noticed Phyllis Langford sitting between an English professor and the head of the Psych Department, up near the front of the hall, and slid into the back corner seat. She was the reason he was there, the person he needed to speak to. He had no concrete ideas of what he was going to say to her, no suggestions to present. He only knew that, through her, he had to find some degree of absolution. He had to reach an understanding of his role in this whole baby thing, otherwise he’d never get rid of the guilt.
Will announced all the shows scheduled at the Performing Arts Center during the holidays. Mentally planning his crews, Matt felt a twinge of unease as Sophie Curtis topped the list on every show that mattered. As stage manager of the most recent show she’d worked, the girl had missed several cues, failed to get the props onstage in time, pulled the curtain too soon and left the house lights lowered for the first five minutes of intermission.
Matt couldn’t remember when he’d last seen her smile. She barely resembled the vivacious blonde of a year ago.
Will Parsons was speaking about a new promotional video the college was making. Matt would help with the shooting of some of the inside segments—and probably have a hand in the editing process, as well. He’d designed a couple of gobos—metal pieces placed in front of lights to throw shadows for special effect—they’d be using.
He was still finishing a note to himself when the meeting ended and his co-workers started filing past. A few nodded at him politely. The dance director smiled. No one stopped to speak.
He relaxed a bit.
And waited.
Phyllis Langford walked right past him, engrossed in conversation with her department head. She was wearing a navy suit today, with a navy-and-white polka-dot blouse. She looked great.
And not the least bit pregnant.
“Hi,” he said, stepping up behind her.
Swinging around, she knocked into him, her purse walloping him in the ribs. “Matt! Hi,” she said, smiling at him for a second. He hated how quickly her face sobered. “Did you need something?” she asked much more hesitantly, glancing at her superior.
Matt glanced at the older man, as well, wondering if Phyllis had any interest in him other than a professional one.
Wondering, too, if his baby was going to prevent her from pursuing that interest.
“I’d like to see you for a second, if you’ve got the time,” he said. She was the entire reason he was at the damn Friday-afternoon meeting. A carefully planned, casual running into each other, just to see how she was doing. He hadn’t spoken with her in almost two weeks.
Excusing herself to Dr. Ellington, Phyllis followed Matt out into the hall.
“What’s up?” She appeared to be very carefully keeping a distance between them as they walked out of the building and across campus toward the faculty lot where they’d both parked. Matt was grateful to her for that distance.
“Just wanted to make sure there were no problems.”
She frowned. “I told you I’d call if there were.”
“I know.”
“So?”
“I’m just making sure.”
“Matt, the whole idea is that I’m on my own here. That means you don’t check up on me.”
He nodded. Glad to hear she still seemed confident in her decision. And then he remembered the good Dr. Ellington.
“Have dinner with me this weekend,” he said before he could weigh the consequences of his words.
“No.”
“We can go to Phoenix, someplace no one we know will see us together.” Her refusal made him more determined. He was doing this for her. And for him, too, he guessed. Somehow he had to find a way to live with himself. He couldn’t allow the pregnancy to throw her whole social life, her career plans, off course.
“No.”
“I have something to discuss with you,” he said, thinking of ways she could have his child and still date and attend conferences and do all the things she’d done before. He hadn’t thought of one, but maybe together they could come up with something….
“What?”
There was no way she could be pregnant with his child and continue with her life as it had been. He just had to accept that fact—and accept his share of the blame.
“My family medical history,” he said, coming up with the idea at the last minute. “You should know my medical background. Your doctor should have it.”
“She did ask…” Phyllis said, and then stopped. Stopped speaking. Stopped walking. She looked up at Matt, her eyes serious, her lips firm.
“All right, one dinner, but that’s all,” she said. “And then I’m on my own.”
“Agreed.”
Matt meant what he said. But he didn’t feel good about it.
CHAPTER THREE
THINKING IT WOULD BE easier to talk if they weren’t facing each other across a table the entire time, Matt suggested he and Phyllis drive up to Tortilla Flat on Saturday, have a late lunch there, and then return to Shelter Valley. That gave them about five hours to reach some kind of accord.
And then get out of each other’s lives.
Phyllis surprised him by agreeing immediately to the date that wasn’t a date.
Things were awkward at first as she climbed into his Blazer late Saturday morning and they headed out. She was wearing a pair of designer-looking jeans and a thick black velour sweater that only accentuated the slimness of her small-boned frame.
It had been so long since he’d been out with anyone for any kind of social occasion that he’d more or less forgotten how to do it.
“It’s a little disturbing to think that we made a baby and know so little about each other, huh?” She broke the awkward silence, apparently reading his mind.
It was disconcerting how she always seemed to know just what to say to get him started. She’d done that in his office the day she’d come to tell him about the pregnancy. And then again on the phone. Hell, she’d probably done it that day they’d worked together in the Performing Arts Center; he’d just been too busy listening to his libido to hear.
He was going to be damn glad when this day was over and he could go back to being the only one privy to the thoughts of Matt Sheffield.
“So how long have you been a professor?” he asked, taking her comment as a cue.
“Eight years, though I didn’t start out with a full professorship.”
“You like it?” Matt turned the utility vehicle onto the highway that led to Phoenix and beyond.
“I love it,” she said, staring out at the road. He caught a glimpse of the smile on her face as he glanced over.
“Me, too,” he said. They had something in common. He didn’t know if that made the job ahead of them easier—or not.
She turned her head to look at him. “How long have you been teaching?”
This was why he avoided social occasions. And relationships. The questions inevitably led to places that were off-limits.
“Twelve years, on and off.”
“Always at a college level?”
He shook his head, reluctant to remember. “I started out teaching theater technology to junior-high and high-school students.”
“You said you’ve been teaching on and off. What did you do in the off parts?”
“Went to school, for