“So much for that theory,” I said, disappointed that we still had no clue as to who had attacked Minka. “But I can’t believe you brought an entire team here just to guard one artist.”
“Unfortunately, that one artist was caught in flagrante delicto with the daughter of the prime minister of a small European nation that I’m not at liberty to name. It’s grown quite political and sordid and I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent one of their army battalions to do him in.”
“Oh, I see.” I didn’t, but I also didn’t have time to force the issue. I was late for class. Besides, I was still angry. Yes, he hadn’t known he was coming to San Francisco until he was on the plane. But what was his excuse for not calling during the rest of the four weeks? And didn’t that make me sound like a shrew? “I’ve got to go.”
“Wait.” His jaw clenched. “Damn it, Brooklyn, I wasn’t going to come to San Francisco.”
I frowned. “You said that already.”
“Yes, I guess I did.” He began to pace in front of me, gesticulating as he explained in a loud whisper, “Gunther Schnaubel is a royal pain. He doesn’t follow the rules. He’s asking for trouble and he’s going to get himself killed if he’s not more careful.”
“So you needed all your men here.”
“Exactly.” He looked relieved. “I knew you’d understand.”
“Of course.” Even though I didn’t. I mean, I understood why he was here, but I didn’t understand why he hadn’t called. Oh, I suppose I could’ve called him, but the strategy of calling men never seemed to work for me. I guess I was an old-fashioned girl when it came to that sort of thing. But none of it mattered right now. I had a class to teach.
“I’m glad we talked.” I checked my watch. “Now I really have to get back to my class.”
“We’re not finished here.”
“No, of course not. But I do have to go.”
The bathroom door flew open, and Alice stepped out into the hall. “Oh,” she said, and looked from me to Derek, then back to me. “You’re still here.”
“I’ll just be another minute,” I said, feeling my cheeks redden. “Can you tell everyone?”
“Sure can,” she said, smiling as she walked away.
“What time is your class over?” Derek asked.
“Ten o’clock.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“You don’t—”
“I do.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. That first rush of fury was draining away as I looked at him. After all, we weren’t a couple. We were kissing buddies. Occasionally. Not exactly a declaration of couplehood. “This is crazy, Derek. You don’t owe me an explanation. We’re not—”
“Christ.” He raked his hand through his hair in aggravation. “I hate this.”
“Oo-kay.” I wasn’t clear on what it was he hated.
“I don’t apologize,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Why should you?”
“There,” he said, pointing at me. “Right there. You’re doing it again.”
I looked at him sideways. “Doing what?”
“Making me feel like I ran over your dog.”
“I don’t have a dog.” I was completely lost now. “What are you talking about?”
He laughed. “You’re right. I’ve gone insane. But it’s your fault.”
“Mine?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t drag me into this,” I protested.
He laughed again. “Damn it, I’ve missed you. I didn’t want to. I was determined not to see you again.”
“Well, thank you. That’s really flattering. I’m so happy we had this conversation.” I folded my arms across my chest. “And guess what? You don’t have to see me again.”
“Ah, but it seems I do.” He urged me back into his arms and I almost whimpered. It wasn’t fair. He kissed my neck, kissed my shoulder. “Damn it, you’re even more lovely than I remembered. What was I thinking?”
“I have no idea.”
He laughed, and the sound went a long way to refresh my spirit. “God, you’ll be the death of me. Go teach your class. I’ll be waiting.”
Breathless, I rushed off, but made the mistake of turning around. He stood in the same spot, watching me, his eyes as dark as cobalt, his lips twisting sardonically. It was disconcerting and a complete turn-on. Part of me wanted to rush back and kiss him and another part of me wanted to slap him silly.
I couldn’t believe I’d mentioned Layla to him. For one thing, I sounded like a jealous cat. But also, I was annoyed with myself for revealing what I was angry about. Women were never supposed to tell a guy what was actually bothering them, right? It was in the Official Rule Book. If a guy doesn’t know what’s bothering you, then why should you tell him?
I jogged down the hall but slowed when I heard two women arguing in one of the empty classrooms near mine.
“Keep your hands off my husband.”
“Honey, it’s not my hands you have to worry about.”
“I know what you’re doing, and it stops now.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, really,” she said, then lowered her voice to add, “Or you’ll be sorry.”
“Oh, threats?” The woman laughed and I realized it was Layla. Her voice dripped with cynical delight.