The Beauty Queen's Makeover

Chapter Two

“Hello, Professor Harrison.”

Kathryn stood just inside the office doorway and felt Nate’s warm hand on the small of her back. With an effort she controlled a shudder. The contact was supportive—a gentlemanly gesture, in no way threatening. But ever since that terrible night in college, she couldn’t trust even the most innocent touch of a man. Ted Hawkins had stolen that from her.

Then she felt the professor’s gaze on her and tensed for his reaction to her altered appearance. She realized her mentor had changed, too. His dark hair was graying now and his face was thinner, the lines beside his nose and mouth were craggy, as if carved and weathered. If his formerly warm, sparkling brown eyes were the window to his soul, it was fading fast. He stared, almost as if he didn’t see them.

The man she remembered would have stood and greeted them affably—and been delighted that her vocabulary included that word. She’d deliberately not worn her sunglasses, to get through the awkwardness as quickly as possible. The man she knew would have observed the scars on her face and known just the right thing to say. That man was gone.

His white, long-sleeved shirt was rumpled, the trademark bow tie askew. Absentminded professor was a cliché, but he certainly looked the part. More troubling was the fact she’d never known him to be forgetful, distracted or inattentive. He’d always been sharp and insightful, with a wealth of obscure information at his fingertips. Whatever had compelled him to ask for help must be serious—something was taking a terrible toll on this man.

Then she realized he was studying Nate. She glanced at him and saw tension in the line of his broad shoulders, the muscle contracting in his lean cheek.

He moved in front of the desk and held out his hand. “Nate Williams, Professor.”

“I know who you are,” the older man said a little impatiently. Then he looked at her and smiled. “Kathryn Price.” As if he finally remembered his manners, he held out his hand indicating the two chairs in front of his desk. “It was good of you to come. Please, sit down.”

“Thank you.” Kathryn sat.

Nate remained standing and gripped the back of the chair beside hers. When he spoke, the warm, melted-chocolate tone was missing from his voice. “What’s going on, Professor? Why did you send for us?”

Nate had morphed from the good-natured, self-confident hunk who’d single-handedly brought her sense of humor back to life into an ultraserious man who tweaked something in her memory. But, again, whatever it was wouldn’t shape up. She’d thought this setting would be familiar and possibly trigger memories of him. She’d been wrong.

At least some things didn’t change. This office—a gazillion books filling the shelves, scattered papers on the desk, photographs on the walls—was just as she remembered.

“What’s going on?” the older man repeated, glancing first at Nate, then her. “My job is in jeopardy.”

“No. That’s impossible.”

“Unfortunately, my dear, it’s all too possible.”

Kathryn leaned forward. “But why? You’ve been at Saunders for years. What about tenure?”

“Tenure can’t protect any educator against charges of impropriety. The Board of Directors is investigating me, looking for anything they can find and make stick.”

“Why would they do that?” she asked.

“Rumors. Innuendo. Maybe a little jealousy of my rapport with students.” He waved his hand dismissively.

“Will they find any evidence of impropriety?” Nate asked, his tone more gentle.

“Of course they won’t.” Kathryn frowned at him. He’d said where there’s smoke, there’s fire. If Nate believed the professor was guilty, why would he have come back to help? “I can’t believe you asked him that.”

“He’s right to ask,” the professor said.

“It’s a defense attorney thing. Some don’t want to know.” Nate briefly met her gaze as he leaned his forearms on the chair back. “Others do so they don’t put a client on the witness stand and risk perjury or self-incrimination. I prefer to know the good, bad and ugly up front because I don’t like surprises.”

The professor glanced away as he said, “They’re looking for a way to get rid of me. I think some of it is about my age.”

Kathryn met Nate’s gaze. “Age discrimination is illegal, though, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

For the first time since she saw him, Professor Harrison smiled. “Smart girl.”

“Thank you.” Kathryn glowed at the compliment. Not everyone had looked past her face to give her IQ the benefit of the doubt. From now on, she thought, brains were going to have to be enough.

The professor leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. “No one has come right out and said anything directly about my age. They’re saying I’m unprofessional. Can’t be such a ‘pal’ to the students. Can’t hold their hand. They’re in college now. Teachers have to keep a certain distance. Liability issues and such.”

“They’re wrong.” Kathryn’s heart went out to him. “It’s a style thing. If I remember right, your approach was that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Many students owe you a lot.”

“I’m one of them,” Nate said. “I wouldn’t be where I am today if not for you.”

“So you’re happy with the way things turned out?” the professor asked.

“Of course,” Nate said automatically. “But I still don’t understand why you sent for us.”

The professor sighed as his faded brown eyes regarded them gravely. “I was hoping some of my former students would come back and put in a good word for me.”

“We’d be happy to,” Kathryn said, glancing up at Nate, who nodded agreement. “But how will that help?”

“A good question. Especially with Sandra Westport stirring up a hornet’s nest.”

“Sir?” Nate said, clearly puzzled. It was one single, respectful form of address to get the older man back on track.

“I’m sorry. That’s another story. I was hoping you could simply tell the board that my method of teaching made a difference. That the career path you’ve chosen is of benefit to mankind and might not have happened but for my guidance and educational support.”

“You want us to make them believe you have wings, a halo and walk on water?” Nate said wryly.

A smile pulled at the corners of the professor’s mouth. “Is that so very far from the truth?”

“Just a little,” Nate said, holding up his thumb and forefinger close together.

“I wouldn’t dream of putting words in your mouth. But, I do hope I’ve been of some help in setting you on your paths. One likes to think it made a difference.” He looked sad, suddenly, and miserable. “I’ve dedicated my life to teaching. Being around young people has always been very important to me and it’s all I have now.”

“That can’t be true,” Kathryn protested.

“But, it is, you see. My wife died not long ago. And I haven’t always been…” He had a faraway look in his eyes as he sighed. “I feel as if I’ve lost so much. I don’t think I could bear it if my job—my career were taken away, as well. There’s so much more good I can do. I’m hoping that they’ll see what I’ve accomplished and show leniency and compassion.”

Nate frowned. “No one knows words like an English professor,” he commented. “You’re the best teacher I ever had. I swear you made me memorize the Ninth Collegiate Dictionary from cover to cover.”

Another fleeting grin from the old man. “You’re exaggerating, my boy.”

“Only a little. But I know firsthand your intricate understanding of words and knack for choosing just the right one. You were forever after me to put a finer point on whatever I was trying to convey.”

“And what is it you’re trying to convey now, Nate?”

“That leniency is an odd choice of words for a man who’s above suspicion.”

“You always were too bright for your own good,” the professor mumbled.

“What do you mean?” Kathryn asked, his words giving her a bad feeling.

He shook his head. “Just that no one is perfect. Everyone has regrets, things they wish it were possible to go back and change.”

Kathryn knew he was right. If she had it to do over, she’d never have dated Ted Hawkins in college. Professor Gilbert had tried to warn her, but she hadn’t listened. Then it was too late. The thought made her shiver, making her angry with herself. She tried so hard to bury all this. Yet here she was acting as if it had happened yesterday.

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty,” Nate commented, echoing her thoughts. “And regrets are not an actionable offense.”

“He’s right,” Kathryn agreed, shaking off her own demons.

“I like being right.” He grinned down at her, then it faded. When his glance went to the older man, he shifted nervously. “But without knowing specifics of the allegations, I’m not sure what I can say in your defense.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t be more specific,” the professor protested. He looked down at his hands, folded on his desk. “It’s all very complicated. But there’s someone involved—a…a benefactor who wishes to remain anonymous.”

“Like the Lone Ranger?” Nate asked.

“Hardly that heroic,” the professor said. “No mask. No silver bullets or white stallions. This person simply helped students. Made it possible for some to receive an education who might not otherwise have been able to attend college. That sort of thing.”

“And he doesn’t want to be thanked?” Kathryn asked.

“I never said it was a ‘he.’” The professor’s tone was sharp. “I’m sorry. I simply cannot say anything else. I won’t break a confidence.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at Nate. “And I understand you’ve become very adept at getting people to let unintended information slip.”

“It’s my job to ask questions,” Nate said, the words clipped. “That’s what attorneys do.”

“And isn’t it lucky for the professor that you are one,” Kathryn said, wondering what was going on between the two men. “He might need legal counsel if this goes any further.”

“If Sandra Westport has her way it will go very far.”

“You mentioned her before,” Kathryn commented. “What is she doing?”

“Her husband, David, was one of my students. They met here at Saunders and fell in love. Now they own a store in Boston and she’s a journalist for her small, hometown newspaper. Unfortunately her nose for news has her sniffing my way.” The professor sighed. “She’s inordinately curious about what she calls ‘the mysterious patron.’ This is a very sensitive time for me. While my job is in jeopardy, it would be better if she ceased her inquiries. The uproar she’s creating is channeling suspicion toward me. Not that she’ll find anything,” he hastily added.

“Maybe Nate could help,” Kathryn suggested. The words popped out before a cohesive thought had formed in her mind. But the idea had merit. He was an attorney. It was his job to sway opinion. “Maybe he could talk to Sandra Westport and convince her to drop her investigation.”

Nate met her gaze, then nodded at the professor. “Of course. Whatever I can do.”

Kathryn sighed. “You’re a wonderful role model and mentor, Professor Harrison. You’re the first person who challenged me. The first who made me consider the possibility that I’m more than just…” She stopped and looked down.

“A pretty face?” the professor said gently.

She met his gaze. For the first time since entering his office she saw the kindness and compassion in his expression that she remembered from all those years ago.

“Yes,” she admitted. Absently, she touched her fingertips to the groove on her cheek. “Boy, that sounds conceited and so stuck-up. And ironic.”

“I never knew you to be vain,” the older man said kindly. “The young woman I knew was honest and self-aware and to the best of my knowledge never said an unkind word to anyone.”

“Th—there was an accident—” Her voice caught and she stopped. “My face—isn’t the same.”

“No. Neither is mine.” He glanced up. “For that matter, neither is Nate’s.”

“Some of us are just late bloomers,” Nate said, an edge to his voice as a muscle in his cheek jumped.

“The point is,” the professor said, meeting her gaze again, “appearance is not a person’s defining essence. It’s simply one part of the whole, which is constantly changing.”

She smiled ruefully. “You’re just giving me philosophical spin.”

He shrugged. “Philosophy is attitude, and that can make all the difference. For what that’s worth.”

“It’s worth a lot. Unlike anything I might have to say to the board on your behalf.”

“You’ve always underestimated yourself, my dear.”

She shook her head. “You sent out a call for help to your former students who made something of themselves. But I have to ask—why me?”

“How can you say that?” Nate protested.

She glanced up at the man still standing beside her. “You said it yourself—this is the face that launched a thousand lipsticks. That’s not a cure for cancer or a plan for world peace. It’s superficial and unimportant.”

“Not to the cosmetics industry,” Nate commented.

“How very defense attorney of you,” she said wryly. “But the fact is I don’t know if I can help. I’m not sure that anything I say will carry any weight. I’m not noble. I’ve done nothing very important with my career, or my life. For that matter, I don’t even have a life. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

The professor smiled. “Then I would say your return to Saunders University is fortuitous.”

“How do you mean?” she asked.

“At the risk of a clichéd metaphor, roots are the best place to dig for bits of yourself. Your roots are here at college. Unless I miss my guess, this is where you truly began to blossom.”

Nodding absently, she thought about what he said. “Maybe. But I wish it wasn’t your misfortune that brought me back.”

“Every cloud has a silver lining.” When the professor laughed, he sounded out of practice. “I seem to be in rare form today—clichés everywhere.”

Kathryn stood. “Don’t worry, Professor. Nate and I will do everything we can to help you.”

And helping the professor was the blind leading the blind, Nate thought. He pulled his BMW into a space in the hotel parking lot and turned off the ignition, then went around to the passenger side to open Katie’s door. It was a miracle she was still there—a miracle the professor hadn’t let the proverbial cat out of the bag. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with his own troubles, he could easily have expanded on Nate’s talent for eliciting information. Or how much he’d changed since college. Fortunately, he’d done neither.

“Here we are,” he said, after he’d opened her door and held out his hand.

She looked at it for several moments before tentatively accepting. “Thank you.”

“Although I’m not exactly sure where ‘here’ is,” he admitted. “And I don’t mean that literally.”

“I knew that. The professor wasn’t much help,” she said, falling into step beside him.

“If anything, he created more questions than he answered,” he said ruefully.

“At least we know what the problem is and what we can do to help.”

“Yes.”

To give the college board of directors a testimonial on how the professor influenced him on a career path to benefit humanity. Nate supposed a defense attorney fell into that category, although some compared him to a shark. He had the reputation of being less concerned about the merits of a case than a defendant’s ability to pay for his billable hours. He also had a reputation for winning.

His services were sought after and he was in a position to pick and choose his clients. He picked the ones who could afford him. Long ago he’d realized knowledge was power and knowledge of the law was the power to make a difference for the less fortunate. Like his grandmother. Lately he’d had a nagging feeling the woman who’d raised him after his parents died wouldn’t approve of the man he’d become. And now he wasn’t so sure the slick lawyer he’d become could convince anyone that what he did was a help to humanity. But he’d try. For the professor.

“So what do we do now?” Katie asked.

Their footsteps clicked on the lobby’s marble floor as they walked to the elevator. He pushed the up button. “We need to arrange to give our testimonials to the board. Earlier today I tried to see the administrator, Alex Broadstreet.”

“And?” She looked up at him expectantly.

He shook his head. “He blew me off. Technically his secretary did, but he’s calling the shots.”

“Judging by the expression on your face, you’re not a happy camper.”

“Let me count the ways,” he said grimly. “I was hoping this was all a misunderstanding and could be resolved with a simple conversation.”

“Of course now we know that’s not going to happen.”

“No. In fact when I bumped into you earlier—”

“Literally.”

He smiled. It was the best collision he’d had in a long time. The elevator arrived and they stepped inside. “Yes. I’d just come from trying to see Broadstreet.”

“Is there a problem? Other than the obvious, I mean.”

“I live two hours away. On the other side of Boston. I’d planned to resolve this and drive home tonight.”

“Pride goeth before a fall,” she said.

She didn’t know how right she was. He wasn’t used to failing. But a recent case and now this were giving him lessons in humility. Still, seeing her again made him wonder if this fall wasn’t a blessing in disguise.

“Is that a nice way of saying I’m arrogant?” he teased.

“If the shoe fits…” She shrugged. “Are you?”

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t have to use the shoehorn on that one. Or I could plead the fifth—don’t want to incriminate myself.”

“So you didn’t meet your objective today. Couldn’t you call for an appointment and come back?” she suggested.

“I could. But my gut tells me that he’s going to dodge phone calls. I think being on site and in his face is the only way I’m going to get anywhere.”

“You may be right. This whole thing is weird and seems awfully cloak-and-dagger.”

“It does feel as if they’re trying to keep it quiet and railroad the professor without due process.”

“I did promise we’d do everything we can to help him,” she said. “And you promised you’d try to get Sandra Westport to drop her investigation,” she reminded him. She shook her head. “But two hours is a long drive. You might want to stay over.”

His thoughts exactly. He could almost thank that jerk Broadstreet and snoopy Sandra Westport for being collective pains in the backside. It gave him just the excuse he was looking for.

“Good idea.”

When the elevator doors opened on her floor, she looked up. “Thanks, Nate. You don’t have to walk me all the way. Goodbye.”

“My grandmother taught me always to see a lady to her door.”

“It’s really not necessary.”

He thought he’d gotten her past nerves, but obviously he’d been wrong. “Please, Katie—let me see you safely to your room. And I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Okay.” She walked quickly down the hall and stopped in front of Room 327. After sliding her key card into the slot, she waited for the blinking green light, then depressed the handle to open the door a crack. “Well, goodbye, Nate. It was good to see you again.”

Nervously, she stepped inside and started to close the door. He put his palm up to keep her from shutting it and a flicker of something that looked like fear flashed through her eyes. He dropped his hand. “Wait, Katie. There’s something I wanted to ask—”

“Yes?” She met his gaze and the pulse in her throat fluttered wildly. Was she uneasy around him? What had he done to make her so edgy?

“I’m alone.”

She looked up and down the hall. “Yeah. I sort of figured that out.”

“And you’re alone.”

“And you know this—how?”

“You told me so earlier—when we were sitting on the bench.”

“Right. I forgot,” she mumbled. “Do you remember everything?”

When it was as important as her marital status, he did. “I try.”

“So, what’s your point? I’m sure you have one.”

“I do.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “The thing is, I hate to eat alone.”

“Oh.”

She said it as if she hadn’t considered the possibility he would ask her to dinner. Definitely not a flirt. With his geek days behind him, aggressive women had been something he’d learned to deal with. He was out of practice with the reluctant kind.

“Would you have dinner with me?”

“I’m pretty tired,” she said. Funny, she didn’t even pretend to think about it.

“We could order room service. Your room or mine,” he suggested.

Instantly she tensed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He’d thought it an excellent idea. But the expression on her face backed up her statement. He remembered her looking like that the night she’d broken up with Ted Hawkins. Pale and shaken and afraid.

“Okay,” he said, unwilling to push. “We can talk tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” she said vaguely. “Goodbye, Nate.”

He frowned at the closed door. There was something very wrong with her and he couldn’t shake the feeling that Katie Price had scars on her soul even more harmful than the ones on her face. Which was why he was determined not to let her push him away.

He wouldn’t give up on her.

Chapter Three

Kathryn sat in one of the two chairs at the small circular table in front of her window and sipped her morning coffee. Her room had a view of the clock tower at Saunders University. The spire pushing through the thicket of trees was like a sentinel. Or a lone survivor. Like her.