Julia’s revelation presented Gabriel with an interesting situation. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten his human biology. It was more like given his lifestyle, it had never been an issue. Hormonal women, or women on their cycles, did not frequent The Vestibule looking for sex.

Rarely had he entertained the same woman in his bed more than once.

Even then they had not discussed such intimate subjects. He wouldn’t mind discussing such intimate subjects with Julianne. He wanted to be able to read her moods, even if they were weepy or short-tempered. The thought both perplexed and pleased him.

“I should let you get dressed. But there’s one more thing we have to talk about.” Gabriel gave her a serious look, and Julia immediately steeled herself.

“I spoke with my lawyer again.”

“And?”

“He advised me to stay away from you. He said that the university has a zero-tolerance policy with respect to fraternization that covers both students and faculty.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that both of us would be at risk if we were to be involved while you’re in my class. You could be expelled, under certain conditions.”

Julia closed her eyes as a groan escaped her lips. Why is the universe always conspiring against us?

“We knew that the policy was in force, and we knew that it was serious. We just need to maintain the status quo and continue being discreet for a couple more weeks. As soon as Katherine turns in your grade for my seminar, we will be free to see one another.”

“I’m afraid.”

Gabriel reached up to touch her cheek. “What are you afraid of?”

“If anyone sees us together or suspects something, they can file a complaint. Christa wants you, and she hates me. Paul doesn’t like how you’ve treated me, so I’m sure he’d be eager to claim that you’ve harassed me. And Professor Singer…” Julia shivered. She didn’t want to consider what Professor Singer thought.

“I’m not going to let them expel you. No matter what. It’s never going to come to that.”

Julia tried to protest, but he silenced her with his lips, murmuring reassurances into her mouth as he tried to demonstrate how deeply he cared for her without using words.

They enjoyed a beautiful day together. They laughed and kissed and spent hours talking. Gabriel took several pictures of Julia in various casual poses until her embarrassment got the best of her and he was forced to put the camera away. He resolved to take a picture or two while she was asleep that evening, for Julianne had the face of an angel when she was at peace.

And he knew that a sleeping Julianne would make a captivating subject.

After dinner, they found themselves dancing in front of the fireplace.

Gabriel had prepared a compilation of several sultry songs by Sting, but Julia couldn’t concentrate on the music. Her head was in a haze as it always was when he kissed her. She was so caught up in the physical feelings and emotions it almost made her dizzy.

His hands were in her hair, tangling and caressing at the nape of her neck. They moved to her shoulders, where they slowly traced the slope of her skin. Then they slid down to her waist, and gently, teasingly, moved slowly upward to the sides of her breasts. Two strong hands gently cupped her breasts, moving and massaging them softly.

Julia pulled back.

Gabriel kept his hands where they were and opened his eyes. He looked puzzled at first. She’d retreated, and he could feel her heart racing against his fingertips.

“Julianne?” he whispered.

She shook her head, her skin flushed and her mouth open. She didn’t break eye contact as she moved closer. Gabriel moved his hands a little, just to gauge her reaction. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them he saw something completely new in their brownish depths — heat.

The sight of Julia’s sudden and intense arousal hit him sharply, not just in his own heightened state of excitement, but emotionally as well. She’d never looked at him this way before, all anxious and animated, as if no one had ever touched her before.

Gabriel rumbled slightly in his chest at the thought. He motioned to her with his eyes to come in for a kiss, and he melded his lips to hers, caressing her breasts more forcefully and trailing a thumb against the nubs that began to poke through her shirt. Julia gasped in pleasure into his mouth, and that spurred him on further. Soon he was groaning against her lips and pressing their bodies more tightly together.

More!  his body ordered him. Closer. Faster. Tighter. More. More. More.

“Ugghhhh,”  he groaned, breaking free from her lips and moving his hands to the safe space of her shoulder blades.

Julia pressed her cheek to the planes of his pectorals, her emotions swirling. Eyes closed, she grew unsteady on her feet, but Gabriel reached down and caught her by the waist.

“How are you?”

“Happy.”

“Passion will do that to you.” He gave her a half-smile.

“So will your fingers,” she whispered.

He placed her in his red chair by the fire. “I need to take a shower.”

Julia tried to regain her composure. Gabriel’s seductive skills left her heady and wanting, wanting things for which she was not ready. Yet.

Professor Emerson is a breast man, she thought to herself with no little warmth.

After he’d been gone for quite some time, she wondered what had happened to him. She wondered why, all of a sudden, he felt the need to take a second shower. When the answer to her silent question dawned on her, she smiled to herself.

Chapter 23

Julia’s weekend with Gabriel was perhaps one of the happiest of her life.

She carried memories of it like talismans all week — through his seminar on Wednesday and Christa’s persistent attempts to demean and embarrass her, and through Paul’s well-meaning but unwelcome encouragement to file a complaint against Professor Singer.

Gabriel’s week was the week from hell. It was difficult for him to keep his eyes off of Julianne in his seminar, and the exertion made him irritable and short-tempered. Christa had almost arrived at the end of his patience, begging for extra meetings in which they could (allegedly) discuss her dissertation proposal. He rejected all her requests with a dismissive wave of his hand, which only made her redouble her efforts.

And Professor Singer…she sent an e-mail to Gabriel: gabriel,

It was good to see you again. I’ve missed our little talks.

your lecture was technically proficient but I’m disappointed that you would present something so closed-minded.

you used to be adventurous. And free.

Perhaps the professor doth protest too much…

you need to embrace your true nature

and undergo a little training.

I can give you just what you need.

I can give you exactly what you crave, Mme. Ann

Gabriel glared at Professor Singer’s dominatrix-like provocation, clear even in her lack of capitalization of his name and pronouns. His revulsion at her words and her person clarified for him how much he’d changed since their last encounter. She held no allurement for him, no attraction at all.

Perhaps even in the time before Julianne returned to him he’d begun walking Sylvain Reynard

toward the light, a journey that had been nurtured and encouraged by her presence. The thought pleased him.

He was careful not to reply to or delete the e-mail. Instead, he did exactly what he had done with her previous correspondence — he printed it and placed it in a file in his office. He was unwilling to launch a complaint against her since their initial involvement had been consensual. But he was not above threatening her with her own words, should the need arise. He only hoped her fascination with him would continue and that she would forget all about Julianne.

In an effort to divert himself, Gabriel spent most of his free time that week either preparing for Julianne’s birthday or fencing with the fencing club at the university. Either option was far healthier than his previous habits for blowing off steam.

Every night he would lie awake staring at the ceiling, thinking of Julianne and wishing that her warm, soft body was next to his. He was beginning to have difficulty falling asleep without her, and no amount of tension release (in any form) was eliminating that difficulty. Or his hunger.

It had been a long time since he’d been on a formal date — since Harvard, at least. He cursed himself for his previous foolishness in thinking that his predations at The Vestibule were an adequate or preferable substitution for something real. Something pure.

He missed sex, it was true. Sometimes he wondered how he would be able to keep to his regimen of chastity, whether his hunger might overtake him and he’d work his seductive skills on Julianne’s sweetness. He had no intention of straying from her. He didn’t miss the alienation that came from going home alone from a lover’s apartment and washing her traces from his body as if they were contagions. He didn’t miss the self-loathing he felt when he reflected on past assignations, conquests of women who he would never have introduced to Grace.

Julianne was different. With her he wanted passion and excitement, but also tenderness and companionship. And that realization, although new, continued to both frighten and excite him.

On Saturday afternoon, Julia eagerly read and re-read the e-mail that gave her details about her birthday celebration.

Happy Birthday, Darling.

Please do me the honor of gracing me with your presence at the Royal Ontario Museum this Saturday evening at six o’clock.

Meet me at the Bloor Street entrance.

I shall be wearing the suit and tie and the incredibly wide smile as you walk through the door.

I look forward to the pleasure of your company with great anticipation.

Yours with affection and deepest longing, Gabriel

She complied eagerly, wearing the iris-purple dress that Rachel had bought, along with sheer black stockings and Christian Louboutin heels.

It was too far (and too painful) to walk in those shoes from her apartment to the museum, so she took a cab. She arrived promptly at six, her eyes shining and her cheeks pink with excitement.

I’m going on a date with Gabriel. Our first real date.

It almost didn’t matter that he’d insisted on celebrating her birthday; the thought of having Gabriel to herself for a romantic evening shoved all apprehension aside. She missed him, despite their furtive texts and e-mails and occasional leisurely phone calls.

The museum had undergone a substantial renovation, and a crystal sculpture shaped like the hull of a ship jutted out of the original stone wall.

Julia didn’t like the juxtaposition of modern and Victorian; she preferred one or the other. But perhaps she was in the minority.

As she approached the entrance, she discovered that the museum was closed; its posted hours indicated it had been closed for thirty minutes.

Nevertheless, she walked up to the door and was surprised that she was greeted immediately by a security guard.

“Miss Mitchell?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Your host is waiting for you in the gift shop.”

Julia thanked him and wended her way through the shelves of arti-facts, toys, and tchotchkes. A tall man, impeccably dressed in a navy blue pinstripe suit with side vents, stood with his back toward her. As soon as she saw his form, his broad shoulders, and brown hair, her heart jumped in her chest. Will it always be like this? Will I always feel breathless and weak-kneed whenever I see him?