“You’ve got so much to think about now, eh, Jack?” Charlie said.

“It’s just starting to sink in, all the things we’ll need to do. New paint and curtains in the spare room. Furniture, baby clothes. Heck, I’ve never even held a baby. The whole thing’s a little scary to me.”

“If only my Annie were still here, she’d set you straight on everything. Burping, swaddling, feeding schedules. Look at the fine job she did with our Maggie here. She must be smiling down at us right now.”

Maggie leaned her head on Charlie’s shoulder. “I know she is, Dad.”

“So what’re you going to name him? I hope you’re not thinking of fancy names for the kid like Ethan or Oliver.”

“What’s wrong with Ethan or Oliver?” Jack said.

“Better to choose a good solid name for a good solid lad. There’s nothing wrong with Joe or Sam.”

“What if it’s a girl?”

Charlie shook his head. “No, it’s going to be a boy. I have a very strong feeling about this.” Gently he placed a palm against Maggie’s abdomen. “And I’ll make damn sure I live long enough to see him come into the world.”

“Nothing would make us happier,” Maggie said.

“Now, you know what’d also make me happy?” Charlie looked at Jack. “Getting some food into my girl here. She’s eating for two now, so let’s make sure she and my grandbaby are properly fed.”

Jack bowed, gesturing toward the dining room. “My lord and lady, medium-rare steaks await you both.”

Charlie walked his daughter to the table, treating her as if she were the fragile member of the family, not him. In truth, the news of the baby seemed to have breathed fresh vigor into Charlie, and his laugh was louder, his appetite heartier, than Jack could remember. By the time Jack finished pouring wine and dishing out salads for everyone, Charlie had already devoured a third of his rib eye and had added so much butter to his baked potato that it was swimming in a melted puddle of it.

Maggie shot her husband a joyful glance. Tonight it seemed impossible that Charlie was sick. If only this moment could last forever, Jack thought. All of us alive and happy. Everything right with our world.

He sliced into his steak. Even that was perfect.

“Oh, Jack, I almost forgot to tell you,” said Maggie. “One of your students dropped by to see me at the clinic today.”

“Oh? Who?”

“A girl named Taryn Moore.”

Jack sucked in a gasp, inhaling wine. For a stinging moment he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak.

“Are you okay?” said Maggie.

He shook his head and gestured that the drink had gone up his nose. His sinuses felt as if they’d been cauterized, and he tried to swallow but instead coughed and gagged at the same time.

As tears ran down his face, he waved her away.

“Jack, breathe. Breathe.”

He finally managed to suck in a breath. “Went down the wrong pipe,” he gasped and sank back, wiping his face with a napkin. “Hate it when that happens.”

Charlie pushed a water glass to him. As Jack reached for it, he saw Charlie watching him, those ice-blue eyes fixed on his.

Jack took a sip of water and felt the spasms in his throat ease. “Sorry.”

“You scared me,” said Maggie. “The good news is it was only wine you inhaled and not steak.”

Yeah, great news. Taryn Moore is stalking my wife.

He settled back in his chair and picked up the steak knife, but he’d lost his appetite. He wanted only to slink away from the table, away from Charlie’s watchful gaze.

“So what’s that you were saying, Maggie?” Charlie asked, slicing off another bite of steak. “About Jack’s student?”

“Oh, right. Taryn Moore. She asked me to say hello. Do you remember her, Jack?”

He nodded, trying to appear calm. Taryn hadn’t just randomly chosen his wife as her doctor. She’d specifically chosen Maggie just to let him know she was not finished with him. That more trouble was coming.

He sipped his water. “Yeah. I think she’s in my seminar.”

“You think? You have only fifteen students in that seminar.”

“Yeah, Taryn . . . uh . . . Moore. I know which one she is.”

“I should think you’d remember. She’s hard to miss. She’s fashion-model gorgeous.”

“Is she, now?” said Charlie. His gaze was still on Jack.

Jack made a noncommittal shrug. “I suppose she’s not bad looking. Kind of quiet.” He downed more water.

“Really? She didn’t strike me that way at all,” said Maggie. “In fact, she seemed pretty high spirited. And you’ll be happy to hear she thinks you’re the best professor she’s ever had.”

As he reached for his glass of wine, he had a terrible thought. “She’s not going to be your regular patient, is she?”

“No. She only came by for a physical. She said she needed it for grad school.”

As far as Jack knew, the university did not require a physical exam to apply to graduate school, so there was no good reason for her to visit Maggie. Her only reason is me. She’s tormenting me.

“Speaking of names for the baby, don’t you think Taryn’s a beautiful name, for either a girl or a boy? I looked it up, and it’s Welsh for thunder.” She pressed a hand to her belly. “Maybe what we have here is a baby Taryn. What do you think?”

Yeah, great!

“I’m not crazy about the name,” Jack said. In fact, it would be a lifelong punishment: having his child named after his mistress. It suddenly occurred to him that although he and Taryn had been as intimate as two bodies could be, he actually knew very little about her. She could be insane. She could be dangerous.

This much he did know: if she wanted to, she could destroy him.

CHAPTER 32

JACK

“Professor Dorian?” said the voice on the phone.

“Yes?”

“This is Elizabeth Sacco from the Title Nine Office. I’m wondering if we might talk again soon.”

“Again?” He could not keep his voice from leaping an octave higher. “What is this about?”

“I’m afraid there’s been another complaint against you. Do you have some free time today or tomorrow so we can discuss the matter?”

He felt his face flush in panic. “What kind of complaint?”

“I think it’s better if we have this conversation in person.”

It’s Taryn. It has to be her.

It was eight thirty, and his office was just a few buildings away from Sacco’s office, but he needed time to absorb this fresh blow and prepare himself for the possibilities. “I’m free today. I can be there around ten. Would that work?”

“That would be fine. This shouldn’t take long.”

Yeah, he thought. It didn’t take long to say you’re fired.

At five minutes to ten o’clock, and for the second time that semester, he stood at the door through which he’d hoped never to pass again: OFFICE FOR UNIVERSITY EQUITY AND COMPLIANCE, DR. ELIZABETH SACCO, TITLE IX COORDINATOR.

He strolled in, trying to look casual, but his nerves were sizzling. The same female receptionist greeted him with her quietly damning smile and led him into Elizabeth Sacco’s inner office. Sacco shook his hand and sat down at her desk as he took the seat across from her. No exchange of niceties, nothing about the latest snowstorm or how great the Celtics were doing.

“I realize this is probably getting old,” she said. “Meeting like this.”

“No problem,” he said, trying to feign nonchalance. “You said there was another complaint?”

“Yes. I just want to run it by you, to get your response.” She sounded so reasonable, so nonconfrontational. Was she putting him at ease, merely to lay a trap?

“Okay.”

“We received an anonymous call yesterday. The caller claimed you’re involved in a sexual relationship with a student.”

He felt as if a grenade had gone off in his chest. He managed to keep his voice steady as he said, “Wow. That’s a pretty serious charge. Did the caller give any specifics?”

“I have no other details, only what the caller said.” She checked her notes. “Quote: ‘I think Professor Dorian is having an affair with an undergraduate female student.’ That’s the full statement. Nothing else, no details, no names, no places. After making that statement, the person hung up.”

“And how am I supposed to respond to something like that?”

“Yet it’s not a complaint I can ignore. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure what to do with this.”

“Then maybe it should be ignored.”

“Still, I have to document your response.”

“You said it was anonymous?”

“Yes. We get anonymous complaints every so often, from callers who are afraid to identify themselves. And we have no choice but to follow protocol and inform the accused. So tell me, Professor, is there any truth at all to this complaint?”

His mouth went dry. The last time he’d sat here, the accusation against him had been blatantly false and easily refuted. Not this time. This time he was guilty as hell, and the consequence of a sexual relationship with a student would be immediate termination.

“Professor Dorian?”

“I’m guessing this must be some disgruntled student trying to get back at me again. Maybe someone I gave a bad grade to. And this is how she’s retaliating.”