“Eighteenth-century lit, with Professor McGuire.”

He tried to keep a poker face. Ray McGuire’s office was next to Jack’s. At the beginning of the term, he had complained to Jack that the current crop of female students was distinctly unattractive. “But keep your eyes out for this girl named Taryn Moore. She’s the stuff wet dreams are made of.”

Now he understood what Ray had meant.

Taryn got up and put on her jacket. “I’m going to dive right into this paper. Thank you.”

“And if you’re thinking of grad school, let me know. I’ll be happy to write a letter of recommendation.”

Together they walked out of the building. The breeze ruffled her hair, and with the sunlight streaking it in shades of red and gold, she looked like a Pre-Raphaelite siren.

“See you in class,” she said and gave a little wave.

For a long moment Jack stood on the sidewalk, and as he watched her walk away, he felt like a sad cliché. Here he was, just another married college professor coveting a female student. How needy. How pathetic.

No, he wasn’t just another professor. He was the youngest full professor in the English Department, and someone who loved his job and who last year had been honored with an Excellence in Teaching Award. Moreover, he was privileged to teach in Boston, the most collegiate city in America and most desirable venue for college teaching. For every opening in English departments throughout eastern Massachusetts, hordes of PhDs rained down applications. Also, Jack had tenure, so coveted because no other profession granted employees lifetime contracts—and the only way to lose it was to get caught doing something illegal or profoundly stupid.

Like romancing your student.

He pulled out his phone and texted Maggie. He’d managed to snag two tickets to tonight’s Boston Symphony Orchestra performance, and he asked where she wanted to meet for dinner beforehand.

Five minutes later she texted back: No time for dinner. I’ll see you at the BSO. Meet me outside the entrance at 7!

Even though they wouldn’t dine together, at least he’d be spending an evening with his wife. A night at the symphony was just what they both needed.

On that cold February night, only a few people were standing outside the Massachusetts Avenue entrance to Symphony Hall. The program tonight was Schumann’s cello concerto, one of Maggie’s favorites, and she’d been looking forward to this concert for weeks. Almost as much as Jack had been looking forward to a date with his wife.

He stood curbside, waiting for a glimpse of her, but at 7:15 p.m., there was still no sign of Maggie.

At 7:20 he spotted Ray and Judy McGuire hustling up the sidewalk from the CU garage.

“Are you panhandling?” Ray said.

“I should be, given my salary.”

Ray laughed and shook Jack’s hand. “So where’s that beautiful bride of yours?”

Jack glanced at his watch. “She should be here any minute now.”

“Great. See you at intermission.” They climbed the steps and disappeared inside the building.

Ten more minutes passed. Jack’s face was numb, but he stayed at the curb, bouncing up and down to keep warm, fingering the tickets in his coat pocket. Now he was worried. Had she been in an accident? He dialed her phone but got only her voice mail.

He left a message: “Are you okay? Where are you?”

At 7:45, his cell phone rang at last. Maggie. Thank God.

“Jack, I’m so sorry! I have an emergency here, and I really can’t leave right now.”

“Isn’t there anyone else who can cover for you?”

“No. Not for this patient.” In the background, Jack could hear the ominous beeping of a medical alarm. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you at home.” She clicked off.

He stood there in disbelief, shivering in the cold and hollow with disappointment. He thought about calling it a night and just heading home, but that would be a waste of an expensive concert ticket. He walked into the building just as the lights blinked, announcing that the performance was about to start. As he followed the usher down the aisle, Jack was acutely aware that he was the only patron still not seated. The usher pointed him to a row with every seat occupied, except for the conspicuous gap of two. Jack sat down and laid his coat on the empty seat. The woman to his right glanced at him, no doubt wondering why his seatmate was an overcoat.

As the house lights dimmed, he noticed the couple to his left was holding hands. Others in front were whispering last-minute thoughts, one woman leaning into her mate and kissing him on the cheek.

God, how he wanted Maggie there. He wanted her to be holding his hand, whispering in his ear, kissing his cheek. Instead she was across town, huddled over a patient who needed her. But I need you too. And I miss you.

The hall burst out in applause as the conductor walked onto the stage. Jack could not focus on the music. He scarcely registered the performance and was only aware that the Schumann concerto was over when the audience again applauded.

He grabbed his coat and pushed his way out and up the aisle for the exit.

It was nearly eleven o’clock when he pulled into his driveway and parked beside Maggie’s Lexus in the garage. The house was dark except for one dim light in the kitchen. She was no doubt already in bed, he thought, so he was surprised to find her sitting at the kitchen counter with a glass of wine. She looked exhausted, her face ashen, her eyes sunken deep in shadow.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “What happened?”

She swallowed more wine. “One of the residents was too ill, so I had to pinch-hit. The patient’s fine, but I really couldn’t get away. So how was the concert?”

“It would have been better with you there.”

“Sorry.” She took another sip of wine. “Feel like snuggling?”

Her code for lovemaking. “You mean now?”

“Yes, now.”

He squeezed her hand, and together they walked up to the bedroom.

Afterward, when Jack lay beside his sleeping wife, he wondered if this was how it would be from now on. If sex was something they did instead of dealing with the real issues between them.

He stared up into the dark, listening to her breathe softly beside him. And an image floated into his mind. A woman with tawny eyes, her windblown hair streaked with sunlight.

CHAPTER 10

TARYN

Liam must have ratted her out. That was the only reason she could think of for why she’d been asked to visit room 125 in Dickinson Hall, where the placard on the door read: OFFICE FOR UNIVERSITY EQUITY AND COMPLIANCE, DR. ELIZABETH SACCO, TITLE IX COORDINATOR.

The email Dr. Sacco had sent her yesterday hadn’t mentioned why Taryn needed to visit her, but of course it was about Liam. One of his neighbors, probably one of the blondes, must have told him she’d been slipping into his apartment while he was out. Or he’d gotten tired of all her phone calls and texts, so he’d filed a complaint about her. It hadn’t had to come to this. All he’d had to do was sit down with her, talk to her. She’d remind him of all their years together, their good memories, the many ways their lives were joined. They’d wrap their arms around each other, and everything would go back to the way it used to be between them. This was just a misunderstanding; that was what she’d tell Dr. Sacco.

Taryn knocked on the door and heard: “Come in.”

The woman sitting behind the desk greeted her with a neutral expression, and it bothered Taryn that she could read so little in that face. Dr. Sacco was in her forties, with neatly clipped blonde hair and a navy-blue blazer that would look at home in a bank or a corporate boardroom.

“Taryn Moore, right?” Dr. Sacco said, brisk and businesslike.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Have a seat.” She gestured to the chair facing her desk, and Taryn sat down. Lying on the desk were half a dozen file folders, and Taryn quickly scanned the labels, searching for Liam’s name, but Dr. Sacco swept up the files so quickly that Taryn couldn’t get a look at them before they went into the out-box.

“Thank you for coming in today, Taryn.”

“I’m not sure why I’m here. Your email didn’t say.”

“Because we need to keep this matter confidential. I’m the coordinator for Title Nine Equity and Compliance. Are you familiar with what my office does?”

“Sort of. I looked it up online before I came.”