Sallinger, Elene - Reflection (The Chrysalis Series)

Sadly, he was right.

Bridget stared at her iPhone in shocked dismay. He was refusing to let her cancel their date. She’d called him the night before and left him a voicemail when he hadn’t picked up, saying that after some thought she’d decided to pass on the picnic. She’d had a moment of regret, but she’d let it go.

Fixing herself a light dinner of crab salad and toast, she snuggled on the couch with Daisy and completely missed every minute of her favourite programme as she’d rationalised her actions over and over. She’d spent the better part of her adult years alone and she was no lonelier than the next person. Right? She had a full and satisfying life with friends and activities. She loved her career. Loved her dog. Loved –

A quick glance at Daisy, who was eyeing her with one ear cocked and a look that said “Who are you trying to convince?”, and she’d given up and gone to bed. At no time had she ever once considered that he’d refuse. Could a person refuse to let a date be cancelled?

Well, apparently he thought he could. She’d turned her mobile phone back on after class and seen the voicemail indicator. Checking it had turned up a few messages regarding work, then she’d heard Connor’s voice. Unlike some people who sound differently over the phone, that deep, growly tone of his came through exactly the same as it did in person. It set her pulse racing exactly the same

way too. His message, however, had left her dumbfounded.

‘Sorry, Bridget,’ he’d said. She could almost hear him smirking. ‘I know what you’re trying to do and you’re not getting away that easily. I will haunt that coffee shop until you show up. I remember where you jog too. So we can do this the easy way or the hard way. You can make me suffer the indignity of haunting you like a stalker or you can show up at one o’clock like we agreed and let me show you one of my favourite spots on the planet.’

There had been a long pause and she’d almost disconnected. When he’d resumed speaking, the smirk was gone and he sounded earnest instead.

‘Bridget. I understand your caution. I respect it. I’ll even give your friend, Mona, my social security number and driver’s licence, just don’t stand me up. Please.’

He’d disconnected at that point.

She had no idea how to react. He thought he understood, but he had no real idea. He thought it was the typical caution of a single woman with a new man. He had no idea what he was really getting into.

She smiled at his offer to give Mona his personal info. Little did he know that Mona was already his biggest fan. She’d joined them briefly during their coffee date and they’d had a discussion on the merits of Colombian coffee versus Robusta. Something Bridget hadn’t even realised existed. Coffee was just coffee to her, meant to be drunk with lots of cream and sugar.

Connor, however, took his very seriously. He gave Mona credit for not skimping. She only sold Arabica coffee, which they both agreed was more richly flavoured, and didn’t sell out to simply give patrons a bigger caffeine shot. She thanked him and quite loudly informed Bridget he was a keeper before laughing at her friend’s embarrassment and moving on to other customers and the duties of running her cafe.

‘What are you thinking about, Ross? Me, I hope.’ The low, elegant voice of her boss and Dean of the School of Sciences, Dale Whittier, scraped across her skin like nails. She instantly tensed as he continued, ‘We do have your tenure review at the end of the semester, after all.’

Jerking her head around to face him, she controlled her instinctive shudder. From the moment he’d come onboard at Pinewood, he’d made subtle insinuations to her that skipped just to the edge of harassment but never quite crossed over. He’d hover a tad too close. Brush her in ways that if she addressed them would make her look over-reactive and paranoid.

To look at him, one would never suspect him of something as low as sexual harassment. He was handsome in a distinguished sort of way. Tall and lean, with salt and pepper hair. He dressed like the academic he was with lots of tweed and sweaters paired with cords, but he was never lacking in female company. Their department mixers often saw him with one beautiful female or another.

Rumours abounded of affairs with students as well as faculty members. He certainly wasn’t so lacking in companionship as to make him desperate. Still, he rankled her. She was always left feeling as if she had a trail of slime over her body wherever his eyes had been. And they were everywhere, including her chest at this very moment. His scrutiny made her want to cover herself from his sight.

‘Did you need to speak with me, Dean?’

She’d learned to be very careful in how she interacted with him. Remarks like “Did you need me?” or “Do you need to see me?” – simple things she would have said to anyone else – had been met one too many times with “Yes, very much so” and a lingering, implication-filled silence.

She’d learned to give him no openings.

His icy blue eyes met hers and she controlled the need to look away from him. You didn’t show weakness to predators. Ever.

‘Yes, Ross. I wanted to let you know I’ve called a staff meeting Monday morning at 8 a.m. I expect you there.’

‘What’s happened?’ she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

‘Just show up, Ross.’ He raked her over one last time before turning and leaving her alone.

Feeling like she needed a shower, Bridget ran through all the reasons she stayed here at Pinewood when she felt like a mouse in the lion’s den. Sure, she was only weeks away from gaining tenure, but was it really worth it when Dean Whittier was so repulsive despite the pretty package? Yes. She loved teaching chemistry, loved her students and the life she’d built, but how many more veiled suggestions could she really take?

‘Professor Ross?’ Her mental debate was thrust aside, however, at Skyler’s timid greeting.

Lurching to her feet, she rushed to Skyler, practically pulling the girl into her office. She was dishevelled and looked stunned. Her blonde hair was falling out of the elastic band she’d used to pull it back and her brown eyes were almost vacant.

‘Are you OK? Talk to me, sugar.’

Skyler fell into the visitor chair that Bridget guided her toward.

‘Skyler?’ Bridget knelt beside her and took her student’s hand. It was ice cold.

For several moments, she just sat there staring over Bridget’s shoulder and then it was like a veil fell down over her face. It hardened and her eyes snapped to Bridget’s.

‘Professor Ross, I need to know if I can take the mid-term on a different day. I’ll take it early if necessary.’

‘Why?’ Bridget stood and moved to lean against her desk. Her Spidey senses were jangling a mile a minute and she knew in her gut there was more going on here, but it was up to Skyler to confide in her.

She looked directly into Bridget’s eyes, replying, ‘I have a medical appointment I can’t change.’

‘Skyler.’ Bridget’s tone was sharp. ‘You can be honest with me.’

A wave of pain flowed across Skyler’s face, distorting her features, but she schooled them quickly.

‘I am, Professor.’ Her words were tinted with a bitterness that made them crack.

At a loss, Bridget said, ‘Bring me confirmation of the appointment and you can take the mid-term the day before.’

‘That’s fine.’

‘Very well. I’ll see you at 10 a.m. Don’t be late.’

Skyler sat for several more moments before her eyes welled with tears. She nodded once and then left without another word.

Bridget watched her leave with a sinking feeling in her stomach.