Dragon In The System

A Cerridwen Press Publication

www.cerridwenpress.com

Dragon in the System ISBN 9781419909382 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Dragon in the System Copyright © 2007 Cindy Spencer Pape Edited by Helen Woodall. Cover art by Philip Fuller. Electronic book Publication June 2007

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing Inc., 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously. Cerridwen Press is an imprint of Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.®

DRAGON IN THE SYSTEM Cindy Spencer Pape

Dedication This one is for Glenn, who is living proof that geeks can be heroes too.

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Dell: Dell, Inc. Dr Pepper , Diet Dr. Pepper: The Dr Pepper Company Corporation Dungeons and Dragons, a.k.a. D & D: Wizards of the Coast, Inc. eBay: eBay, Inc. Ford Mustang: The Ford Motor Company Girl Scout: The Girl Scouts of America James Bond: James Bond, 007: Danjaq S. A. Corporation of Switzerland Monty Python: Python (Monty) Pictures, Ltd. Mountain Dew: Pepsico, Inc. Nickelback: Nickelback Productions, Inc. Nikon (microscope): Nikon Corporation Pinky and the Brain: Time Warner Entertainment Company Prince: Paisley Park Enterprises Star Trek: CBS Studios, Inc. The Grinch: Dr. Seuss Enterprises, L. P. Twinkie: Continental Baking Company Wedgwood: Wedgwood, Ltd. Winnie-the-Pooh: Disney Enterprises, Inc.

Dragon in the System

Prologue Long Ago

The ancient dragon circled slowly over the unfamiliar terrain, using an updraft to ease the strain on his aching wings. As his faculties gradually returned, he winced at the deep pain on his right flank. Where on the face of Mother Earth was he? The storm he’d encountered off the coast of Ireland had tossed him off-course and the lightning strike had addled his navigational abilities. At some point, he’d lost consciousness, despairing of ever seeing dry land again. Though dragons required consciousness to fly, they could coast on thermal updrafts in their sleep, which he must have done, for who knew how long. He peered at the forest below. The fauna here was as strange as the land, there wasn’t a sheep or a cow to be seen. In his present damaged state, he wasn’t up to tangling with the grizzled brown bear he’d just passed. Over to the left, he spotted a quick flash of white and he focused his gaze, relieved to see the familiar shape of antlers. Within moments, the stag was a pleasant aftertaste. Now for water. The flat, wooded terrain beneath him began to give way to lush, rolling hills, so green and lovely that for a moment, he could almost believe he was back in Ireland. There was magic here too—he could sense the raw power that coursed through the land. More importantly for the moment, however, sparkling blue lakes dotted the landscape beneath his wings. There were settlements, though unlike any he’d seen. Round huts formed a circle around a central fire. The human inhabitants wore hides and pelts, without a single piece of woven cloth. He was definitely not in Ireland anymore. He chose a small lake away from the settlements and circled slowly downward, watching for humans. It was a myth that the creatures were tasty. There wasn’t much meat on the things and they showed an annoying tendency to fight back, or even initiate a battle. That George fellow in England, for example, had caused no end of unpleasantness between the species. Having determined that his watering hole was blessedly free of humanity, he heaved a great sigh and allowed his weary body to drop into the water. Lying bellydown on the bottom of the pool, with his head resting in the muddy shallows, he let the cool caress of the liquid ease his aching muscles and charred flank. Opening his mouth under the surface, he drank deeply, paused for half an hour or so, then drank again. As the sunlight began to fade into purple sunset, the ancient one roused himself to find shelter for the night. The hilly landscape suggested the possibility of caves and he was relieved to find one that was both uninhabited and spacious enough to house him,

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with a steady trickle of water farther in. Yawning mightily, he belly-crawled deep into the chasm, his talons finding good purchase on the sandstone floor. Perfect. He could stay here for days while he recuperated. He could even sense the comforting presence of a magical ley line nearby, perhaps flowing right under the cave. He could tap into its power to gain strength. Another enormous yawn split his jaws, rattling the sides of the cave. Curling into a large ball, he buried his snout beneath his wing and wrapped his tail around his body. Then, finally at peace, the ancient one slept.

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Chapter One Present Day

Lori was working late in her lab—again. So what if it was Friday night and everybody else on campus, whether student, faculty or staff, had a date? She had better things to do with her time, right? Right. Like getting this research paper finished and published before her tenure review next December. She automatically brushed back the strand of hair that had escaped its barrette— again—and fallen into her eyes. As a result of not watching what she was doing, as usual, her elbow bumped hard into the wooden two-by-four forming the corner of a large wire cage. Lori swore out loud, jumping up and down until the irritating tingle receded from her funny bone. A hiss from inside the cage let her know that the occupant hadn’t appreciated the jolt either. “Sorry, Q,” Lori told the iguana that served as her lab mascot and, too often lately, Friday night date. She bit a big chunk off a half-eaten apple then slid it between the wires to the five-foot-long, bright green lizard. Nodding as regally as a cat, the iguana accepted the peace offering, graciously allowing Lori to scratch the top of his head while he ate. The loud knock echoed through the empty hallway, startling Lori, who narrowly missed whacking herself on the cage all over again. Oh crap, she’d almost forgotten she had a visitor coming. “Dr. Tremain?” called a hesitant male voice. It was a nice voice, though, deep and faintly husky. She spun around to face the open doorway. “I’m Lori Tremain.” She smiled at the tall, slim man framed in the opening. “Hi. You must be Dr. Gordon.” “Eric,” he offered, holding out his hand, which he’d apparently forgotten held a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Lori grinned to herself. Shy and absentminded, in a cute sort of way. Yep, this was definitely the guy from the computer science department. “Come on in,” she told him, ignoring the hand. He seemed to notice his glasses then, because he rubbed them off with the tail of his Hawaiian-print shirt then stuck them back on his face. Somehow, instead of detracting from his appearance, the spectacles made him seem even more attractive, calling attention to the friendliness and intelligence that gleamed in his green eyes. Hmm, Lori thought appraisingly. Not so geeky after all. Maybe she needed to revise her stereotypes. She assessed his appearance again, this time with distinctly feminine approval. He was tall, well over six feet, and slim but his snow-dampened shirt clung to a form that was lean and muscular, not the scrawny body she’d expected from a computer geek. His straight hair was a light golden-brown, liberally streaked 7

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with blond and it was just beginning to recede a little from his forehead, adding a faintly cerebral quality. He’d probably forgotten to get a haircut recently, she figured, considering the damp strands that hung past the rims of his oval wire glasses, with the ends curling just slightly on his collar in back. His big, slightly lopsided grin was engaging and hopeful. They stood awkwardly for a moment in the front section of Lori’s lab, which was divided from the rest by open metal shelving. This front portion served as her office, housing an ancient, cluttered desk, several metal file cabinets and a small round table of chipped wood-grain Formica surrounded by three mismatched vinyl chairs. “Have a seat.” Lori pointed to the blue chair, it was the tallest and best suited to her guest’s lanky frame, then sat across from him in the chrome and orange one, which was patched here and there with silver duct tape. Dr. Gordon obediently folded himself into the seat she’d indicated. His hands were never quite still, she noticed. He tapped his fingers, adjusted his glasses and periodically slicked his hair away from his face. Lori couldn’t help but feel sorry for his obvious discomfort even while she wondered just what a computer science professor wanted from her on a Friday night. “Want a soda?” she asked, trying to break the ice. Without waiting for a reply, she leaned over and retrieved two bottles from the small refrigerator next to her desk, which had been her birthday present to herself last month. “Sure.” He accepted the Diet Dr Pepper with a strong, lean hand that Lori couldn’t help noticing. Yum. What was it, she wondered briefly, about big masculine hands that always got her going? He opened the screw-top lid of the soda and took a long pull while Lori shuffled an overflowing stack of papers out from between them. When he rested the half-empty bottle on the table, she decided it was time to get down to business. “So how can I help you, Dr. Gordon—Eric?” He looked away, fixing those brilliant green eyes on Q. Their colors weren’t that far apart, Lori noted before she could stop herself. Her guest continued to avoid eye contact, but at least he finally spoke. “You’re a herpetologist, right? You study reptiles.” “That’s right.” “What kind of lizard is that?” he asked, pointing. “That’s Q,” she answered, confused by his apparently idle question. “He’s a green, or common, iguana.” “Q, as in Star Trek?” Eric asked, his eyes shifting back to Lori. She liked the way they crinkled at the corners. “Or the James Bond movies?” She grinned back. Okay, so he definitely was a nerd, even if he was kind of cute. “Neither, although some of my friends like to argue the point.” For scientists, after all, science fiction was practically a part of the standard curriculum. “Actually, Q was a lab reject back when I was in grad school. He was too mean to handle, so they were going to euthanize him. I couldn’t stand the thought of them putting him down, so I asked if I could take him home and my boss agreed. At first, he used to bite me all the time, so I 8

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kept threatening to turn him into a barbecue. When we eventually made friends, the name got shortened to Q.” “So you’re into lizards?” he asked, almost eagerly. She nodded. “Lizards, snakes, turtles, frogs. They’re all part of herpetology, but most of my research focuses on lizards. My current study is on the use of chemoreception by leopard geckoes.” She waited for the glazed look as he asked her what the heck was chemoreception, but he seemed to ignore that part of her speech and his eyes actually brightened. “More lizards?” he asked, looking around, probably for more large cages. Lori nodded. “They’re little guys, not like Q.” She used her fingers to indicate a span of about six inches. “Want to see them?” She didn’t know why she offered, but hey, it was Friday night and she had a sort-of-cute guy in her office who seemed marginally interested, in her work at least, if not in herself. She led him around Q to the main part of the lab. Several rows of small glass aquaria topped with heat lamps filled the rough wooden shelving lining one cinderblock wall. Each of the tanks held two or three brown-and-yellow spotted lizards. “Cool,” Eric remarked absently, studying one of the tanks for a while. “But, if you don’t mind my asking, how much can you tell me about big lizards?” “How big?” she asked. They moved around back to the table, where he downed another quarter of his soda. “Really big.” He pointed to Q. “Say, five or six times as long as that guy.” Lori shook her head. “Not much. The only lizards even close to that big would have to be Komodo dragons, or at least one of the other giant monitors.” He raised his eyebrows, so she continued. “Komodos are huge, endangered and pretty much impossible to handle. They’re really rare here, even in zoos. Nile monitors are pretty big too, though,” she added thoughtfully. “And a little more common. I haven’t done too much work with monitors at all, but I’m familiar with them from a basic academic standpoint, of course. What do you need to know?” She wondered why a faculty member from computer science needed to know about reptiles, but shrugged it off. Maybe he wrote educational software in his spare time, or maybe he had a child who wanted a pet lizard. For some reason she didn’t want to examine too closely, she didn’t care for that last idea. Eric shook his head, his straight, sandy hair falling over one eye. Lori repressed the unacceptable urge to brush it back for him. God, she needed to get out more if she was reacting like this to a guy who stopped by with a few questions. “I know this sounds stupid,” he began. He gulped a deep breath before continuing. “But could some sort of giant monitor lizard be living in the steam tunnels under campus?”

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She practically fell out of her chair laughing and Eric couldn’t blame her in the least. He knew how idiotic he’d sounded, but he’d had to ask. On top of everything else, he was unpleasantly surprised to realize that even though he’d expected this reaction, his ego stung. It was bad enough having everyone on campus automatically assume that because you were in the computer science department, you were an antisocial geek. He didn’t need some cute little biology professor laughing in his face. And she really was cute, which somehow made it worse. Why couldn’t Dr. Tremain have lived up to his mental image of her, with the gray hair and starched lab coat? Why did she have to be young and attractive? Well, he conceded, not too young. Tiny lines framed her liquid brown eyes as she grinned and Eric felt his stomach muscles clench. “Giant lizards in the tunnels?” she asked, still chuckling softly. “Is that what the students are claiming these days?” Well, at least her laughter seemed friendly, not condescending or catty. He supposed that was a start. Before Eric could formulate an answer, his stomach growled loudly. Then, just to be sure his embarrassment was complete, he felt the heat of a blush suffuse his face. With his light skin, it had to show. He had to force himself not to close his eyes and crawl under the table. “Umm-look,” he began, risking a direct glance at Lori’s heart-shaped face. She was still listening, he saw, with relief. She hadn’t yet decided that he was a complete nut case. Dark brown eyebrows arched daintily above her big coffee-colored eyes. Wow, her skin was even paler than his, almost translucent. With her long, straight hair and her simple outfit consisting of a white t-shirt and pink denim skirt, she could easily be mistaken for a student. “Look, I know this is going to sound crazy and it’s kind of a long story,” Eric began. Then he added impulsively, “How about if we go get a pizza somewhere?” He checked his watch. “It’s eight-thirty and I haven’t had dinner yet. Have you?” Lori shook her head. “Not unless you count an apple and some pretzels.” Since half of the apple was still sitting on her desk, she really hadn’t eaten at all. “But won’t all the pizza places be full of students? It’s Friday night.” Was it? He guessed so. Still, he stuck to his guns. “What the heck, wanna risk it?” He told himself that he wasn’t asking her out, just offering to feed her in return for her professional advice. A surreptitious glance told him that she wore no wedding or engagement rings on her left hand. That was a good sign. Then an embarrassing memory from a few years back flashed through his brain and he tried to remember if he had any cash in his wallet. Did Campus Pizza take plastic? To his surprise, Lori Tremain agreed readily to his offer of dinner. He was still staring in amazement while she checked the latch on her iguana’s cage, collected her things and locked up her office. He was still in shock minutes later as they walked together through the fluffy falling snow toward the faculty parking lot. It had grown dark while he’d been inside the Life Sciences building and turned even colder. Lori had shrugged on a lightweight

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pink denim jacket that matched her above-the-knee skirt, but bare pink-tipped toes peeked out from the straps of her flat-heeled, white sandals. Obviously, she hadn’t been prepared for the change in weather either. She had great legs, he thought, glancing down at them in the gleam of the overhead safety lights. Of course the rest of the package was pretty nice too. Even though it was none of his business, it bugged Eric a little to think of Lori walking to her car by herself at night. Sure, it was usually safe here at Southern Michigan University, better known as SMU. Kilkenny was a quiet little town nestled snugly in the quaintly beautiful Irish Hills, where the crime rate was pretty much limited to petty theft, bar fights and underage drinking. Still, more serious crimes, including the occasional sexual assault, still happened from time to time. “Where’s your car?” she asked, jolting Eric out of his funk. “Oops,” he muttered, smacking the side of his head with the heel of his hand. “I walked in. I just live over on Sunrise.” It was the nearest residential street to campus, so he hoped she’d understand. “Okay,” Lori shrugged, obviously unfazed by his forgetfulness. “I’ll drive.” She led the way down the mostly empty aisles, finally coming to a stop beside a tiny red Ford. Eric cringed at the thought of trying to cram his six foot three inches into the dinky front seat, but he wasn’t about to let her escape without him after agreeing to dinner. While he stood there, probably looking like an idiot, she clambered into the driver’s seat and motioned him in. “It’s not locked.” “Why not?” he asked rather more sharply than he’d intended. After he folded himself into the passenger seat, he added, “You should be more careful.” She glanced over at him with a twisted grin but didn’t speak. Eric winced, realizing he’d said something stupid again. Lori was a big girl, he reminded himself. Heck, she probably had some bodybuilder boyfriend to take care of her. She didn’t need him telling her how to live her life. He kept his mouth shut as they drove across campus, while the windshield wipers slapped loudly. It was late enough when they arrived at the pizzeria that the worst of the student dinner crowd had thinned and it was still too early for the pre-nightclub rush. A few stragglers, including a couple of fellow faculty members, were scattered about the dining room and a couple even called hello as they made their way to a corner booth. Eric grimaced at the speculative glances. Great. Now he’d given them grist for the gossip mill. Oh well. Being seen with a pretty, single colleague certainly couldn’t hurt his image. He glanced at the menu, relaxing a little when he spotted the icon that told him they did, indeed, accept credit cards. “Want a beer?” he asked. Maybe his questions would seem less insane if she’d consumed a little alcohol. Lori shook her head and another long strand of her dark, silky hair slipped free from a heart-shaped pink barrette. “No thanks. I really can’t stand the stuff. A glass of wine maybe?” Her voice was soft and he could barely hear her above the blaring

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jukebox. It amazed him that anyone over the age of fourteen actually paid money to listen to Kelly Clarkson, but, hey, to each his own. “Sure, anything you want,” he assured her eagerly. “What do you like on your pizza?” “Anything but olives or anchovies,” she replied, sticking out her pointed little tongue. A bolt of pure lust shot straight to Eric’s groin. God, even though he’d just met her, he desperately wanted to feel that tongue on him—right now. “I can’t stand little salt pellets,” she continued. She was clearly oblivious to the direction of his thoughts, thank goodness. “Whether they’re animal or vegetable.” He forced himself to focus on her words. Fortunately, they sounded reasonable enough to him. His stomach growled again. “How about the extra-meat, extra-cheese special?” Lori smiled and it transformed her from cute to stunning. “Sounds great.” God, he was sunk. She was sexy, she was smart and she liked her pizza loaded. Too bad that in half an hour, she’d know he was nuts. Eric debated the possibility of not telling her the truth and just asking her out for a real date. Unfortunately, he honestly did need her professional expertise.

***** After they’d ordered and received their drinks, Lori sipped her white zinfandel slowly and watched Eric. He’d appealed to her right from the start and incredibly enough he seemed to grow on her even more the longer they talked. He wasn’t classically handsome, not by a long shot, but he was attractive in an all-American, boynext-door kind of way—assuming that the boy next door worked out, that is. A few freckles were sprinkled across his nose and there were little lines radiating from the corners of those brilliant green eyes. Apparently he smiled a lot. Right now, though, he seemed nervous. His long fingers played absently with a paper napkin, slowly shredding it. Such nice big hands, she noted again, with a tiny internal sigh. They were large and lean, with short, clean fingernails and calluses that told her he didn’t spend all of his time staring at his computer screen. Down, girl! Remember, this isn’t a real date. Which might be a good thing. She’d had exactly two so-called real dates since she’d broken her engagement over a year ago and they’d both been even more uncomfortable than this. Reluctantly, she forced her brain to concentrate on business. “So what did you want to ask me about?” she asked, wincing at her own lack of tact. His eyes shot upward, away from the red-and-white checked tablecloth. His skin reddened, as if he was embarrassed by what he had to ask. Lori waited, drumming her fingers absently to the irritating drone of Nickelback. She must be getting old, she mused, because the current crop of music sensations annoyed the daylights out of her. “Why do you need a herpetologist? What’s up with this giant lizard?” Eric gulped a good third of his microbrewed ale. Lori watched his Adam’s apple bob with agitation and tried to smile reassuringly. 12

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“This is going to sound completely insane…” She nodded. Hopefully he’d eventually spit it out so they could enjoy their dinner. “So you said. Look, it’s okay. I promise not to call the men in the white coats, at least not ’til after we eat. Go ahead, Eric. Spill it.” “Have you heard about the WYRM virus on campus?” he asked. Lori’s forehead crinkled and she gnawed on her full lower lip while she paused to consider. A virus infecting worms? Or a worm-like virus attacking humans? Was it something one of the immunologists in her department was working on? It didn’t sound at all familiar. Then she remembered to whom she was speaking and grinned. “You mean a computer virus, don’t you? Not some sort of disease spread by night crawlers? Frankly, I’d have a better chance of knowing about the latter.” He nodded, grinning back. “It’s a computer virus. W-Y-R-M, not W-O-R-M. It’s an old-fashioned word for dragon.” He shrugged, as if to say that hey, he hadn’t named the thing. Lori smiled and nodded, then he continued. “Anyway, this virus has been popping up on computers all over campus for maybe a couple of months now. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it in the sciences. I’d have guessed that you rely pretty heavily on computers for your research analysis and writing.” “We do,” she acknowledged. “I just haven’t been paying much attention to anything other than lizards. I’m trying to finish up a paper in time to get it published before my tenure review in December.” Eric groaned sympathetically. “Ouch! I hear you. I just had mine last fall. I wasn’t sure I was going to survive that last semester of kissing up, let alone the frantic dash for publications.” Lori smiled her thanks for the commiseration. “Anyway, what I do know is that the department computer tech came through last week and checked all the hardware for some virus,” she told him. “But like I said, I didn’t pay him a whole lot of attention. My equipment was clean, so that’s all I cared about.” “Understood,” he said. His clear green gaze was sincere, but he was fidgeting with the remains of his napkin again. She resisted the impulse to still his hands with her own, surprised yet again by her unprecedented desire to touch him. She was usually jumpy around strange men. “So here’s the deal. There’s this virus making its way through the campus network. It pops up, seemingly randomly, locks up your computer for half an hour or so, then disappears, sometimes taking some of your files with it. That was bad enough. Then a couple of weeks ago, it started showing up in Financial Aid and Accounts Payable. There was no large chunk of money missing, but after a few days, one of the number crunchers in administration noticed something odd. He dug a little deeper and discovered that the occasional odd cents, more often just rounded off partial cents, were being channeled into some off-shore bank account. Individually the amounts were negligible, but all together they added up to several thousand dollars.” He had her interest now. She propped her elbows on the table and leaned her chin on her hands, waiting for him to continue.

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“So anyhow, I’m the guy they tapped to try to track down the hacker. The university doesn’t want to go public and contact the cops or the FBI because the interim university president wants to be named permanent president. If he can fix this without any negative publicity his chances for the appointment get a whole lot better.” She nodded, sticking her tongue out again. Typical university politics. Yuck. “So we all figure it’s some pissed-off student. We’ve got a few in our department who might be good enough. And whoever this is, he or she really is good. I’ve been working day and night on this for over a week and I only got my first lead yesterday.” He paused and then added matter-of-factly, “And I’m pretty damn good myself. That’s why they stuck me with the job.” Lori nodded. She wasn’t sure why, but she’d have expected him to be good. Eric went on. “So I finally tracked down the physical location where the virus may have been originally inserted. It ended up being an old janitor’s closet in the subbasement of the Admin building. Seems there’s an old phone line down there that never got disconnected, so he’s using a hard-wire modem instead of the Wi-Fi. So anyway, last night, about this time actually, I decided to go take a look.” He drained his remaining ale in a single swallow, then looked up and grinned as a pretty little co-ed brought them their pizza. “Thanks, Megan,” he told the perky blonde. “Refill?” She took his beer glass and nodded happily. As she turned to leave, Lori cleared her throat pointedly. “Hey, Megan.” Megan, looking bored now, turned. Ha! She did have dark roots, Lori noted nastily. Lori handed the girl her empty wineglass. “Bring me a diet soda, please.” She looked over at Eric and shrugged. “Since I’m driving.” Megan grunted what Lori optimistically took to be a vague affirmative and wandered back toward the kitchen. Lori turned her gaze back to Eric. “Okay, so you decided to go check this crook out, at night, alone, in the subbasement of Harrison Hall. And you yelled at me for not locking my car doors.” He shrugged, coloring a little. Lori had never met a man who blushed so easily and she decided it was kind of cute. “Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly. “It was probably stupid, but there you go. When I get caught up in something, I never seem to notice details like what time it is. Otherwise I wouldn’t have called your office at eight o’clock on a Friday night and expected you to be there.” He had a point, she acknowledged. Of course the fact that she had been in also said something about her that she’d rather not examine too closely. She nodded, encouraging him to keep talking. “So I go down there and I realize the lights probably haven’t totally worked in like, twenty years. It’s like something out of a fantasy video game, all damp stonework and

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dimly lit corridors. I’m half expecting something to pop out at me—too many years of playing Dungeons and Dragons, I guess.” Bingo, Lori thought. That’s exactly what she’d assumed. He looked around helplessly for his missing beer. His expressive face was so very easy to read that Lori couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for him. “Megan should be back in a second,” she told him gently. He nodded, apparently remembering. “Megan. Right.” Instead of going on with his story, though, he took off his glasses and polished them, causing Lori to grind her teeth. “So you were down in the creepy subbasement. Then what?” “Right.” He nodded again as he replaced his glasses. “So I found the janitor’s closet, which was covered in spider webs and dust but had a brand new Dell desktop set up on this old wooden crate. No chair or anything, just a big clear patch in the dust on the floor in front of it. It was shut down, so I hit the switch, booted it up. It was encrypted right at the logon though and I didn’t have any code breakers with me, so I just switched it off again, figuring I’d have maintenance come get it, bring it up to my lab so I could figure out who’s been using it. Then I heard this noise out in the hallway, sort of like footsteps, but not quite. There was also this kind of clicking like a big dog’s toenails on the tile. So I go to check it out.” He stopped as Megan returned with drinks and a simpering smile for Eric, who didn’t seem to notice. “Thanks, Megan,” Lori muttered. “Bye-bye now.” “Yeah,” the waitress muttered. “Like, enjoy your food.” Lori was sure she didn’t hear, “I hope you choke on it,” muttered as the younger woman stalked off. Lori grinned and attacked the slice of pizza that had been cooling on a plate in front of her. Mouth full of the decadent blend of meats and cheeses, she motioned for Eric to continue, which he did, between bites. “Anyway, I see a shadow moving about twenty feet or so down the hallway, so I yell, ‘Hey, who’s there?’ and take off after it. As I round the next corner, all I see is this huge tail, heading off into one of the steam tunnel openings. By the time I get there, the door to the tunnel has slammed shut and it’s locked tight.” “Tail?” Lori asked, swiping furiously at a string of cheese hanging most ungracefully from the corner of her mouth. “Like a lizard tail?” He nodded, chewing thoughtfully. “Bi-i-ig lizard tail. Like the tail, alone, was maybe eight or nine feet long.” Lori whistled. “That’s big. Bigger than any lizard I know, probably even a Komodo dragon. Maybe a saltwater crocodile, but we’re nowhere near the ocean.” “That’s what I was afraid of,” he muttered, casting his eyes down to his plate. He played absently with a slice of pepperoni. Finally, she gave in to the urge she’d been fighting all night and put his hand over his to stop him. Sparks seemed to shoot up her arm at the touch.

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“Eric,” she said quietly. “Have you considered that it was probably all a prank? Lizards can’t open and lock doors. Even if they did have hands, they’re just not that smart.” She hoped Q never heard her say that. He’d sulk for a week. Eric nodded. He dropped the pepperoni and turned his hand so that it was holding onto hers. She liked the warm, tingly feeling of her smaller hand clasped firmly in his large one, so she left it there. “Of course,” he said agreeably. “Logic dictates that it had to be. Either that, or some of the kids got hold of a passkey and are playing a round of live action D & D with really good costumes. There are a bunch of logical possibilities and none of them involves a genuine lizard.” He hesitated for a moment then plunged onward. “The thing is, though, it smelled like lizard down there. Sort of musty but organic—kind of like your lab, you know. So I wanted to rule out the possibility. I’m not an animal expert and I’m not from Michigan, so I really don’t know much about the local wildlife.” That made her curious, but she’d ask about his background later. “Nope, no giant lizards. Just lots of clever, obnoxious students.” She cast a quick glance at Megan-thesnippy-waitress, who was eyeing Eric from a couple tables over, swishing her perfect, twenty-year-old backside as she walked. Speaking of obnoxious… “Did you get the computer?” He shook his head. “By the time I got Security down there, it was gone. Room was even dusty again, just like it had always been empty.” “Sounds like this prankster is using the costume to scare people away from his computer setup,” she observed. Mouth full, he nodded and they finished the pizza in relative silence, each darting glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking. Lori was a hearty eater and carried a few extra pounds to prove it, but even she was awed by the sheer magnitude of food that Eric managed to consume. For such a slender guy, he could really pack it away. “Sure you’ve had enough?” she asked, tongue-in-cheek, as he paid the check. “Yeah I guess so,” he replied. “Why, do you want dessert?” Lori let out a laugh. “I’d explode. What I really need is to walk off that fourth slice. Why don’t you show me where you saw the lizard tail?” He looked startled. “Why?” She just shrugged, standing up to put her jacket on. “Just curious, I guess. Got anything better to do?” Okay, so she really just didn’t want to go back to spending Friday night alone. Eric seemed like a nice guy and if she could help put his mind at ease about his reptilian hacker, what the heck?

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Chapter Two As he walked beside Lori back to her car, Eric still couldn’t believe she was taking him seriously. Or at least she seemed to be. He supposed it was possible that she was just humoring him, sort of a sympathy thing. Of course, he’d never been particularly skilled at guessing what went on inside a woman’s head, which was a big part of the reason he was thirty-two and still single. Heck, it wasn’t like he didn’t know he was a geek. He was still pondering the question of why she was here with him, when another, even more puzzling query occurred to him. What on Earth was a smart, pretty young woman like Lori doing all alone on a Friday night? Were all the men in the biology department morons? The light spring snowfall had worsened while they were inside the pizzeria. Thick clumps of snow swirled about their faces instead of delicate flakes and now there was an even dusting of the white stuff on the ground, except for the asphalt road, which gleamed darkly in the glow from the streetlamps, insidiously wet and slick. Eric shivered a little, wishing once again that he’d remembered a jacket that day. “Cold?” Lori asked him solicitously, buttoning up her denim jacket and stuffing her hands into the front pockets of her skirt. “Sometimes I hate Michigan weather. Yesterday was so nice and today we’re all freezing.” She echoed Eric’s shiver and drew closer to his sheltering warmth. “God, I wish I’d worn slacks today, or at least had the sense to put on pantyhose.” Eric grunted slightly at the reminder that her legs were bare under the short skirt, but he too moved closer. “Yeah,” he replied, mentally whacking himself upside the head for his utter lack of eloquence. Way to go, genius. She jumped a little when he opened her car door for her, then looked up at him, her smiling face shining in the warm glow of the streetlight. “Thanks.” Feeling like a million bucks, he closed her door and sprinted around to the passenger side of the car. She was still, he noticed with pleasure, smiling as he climbed cautiously into the undersized passenger seat. “I think there may be a sweatshirt in the back, if you want it.” He glanced behind him. Her car was as cheerfully cluttered a mess as her desk had been. Sure enough, though, there was a faded black and gold SMU sweatshirt jammed on the backseat between a half-empty packet of tissues, a big cardboard box filled with student research papers and a handful of empty soda bottles. With his long arms, he could reach into just about any corner of the tiny vehicle, so he easily snagged the shirt, then shook it out in front of him, checking the size. “Why does somebody as little as you have an extra large?” he queried with cautious curiosity. The word “boyfriend” kept going off in flashing neon lights inside his brain. 17

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Lori chuckled sweetly. “I’m short, not little,” she told him, which made no sense at all. Sure, she didn’t look emaciated, like most of the female undergraduates, but her curves were soft and feminine, not unpleasant. “Besides, I bought that one for my brother. I was going to give it to him for Christmas a couple of years ago, but I forgot about it and accidentally left it in the car. Anyway, it just kind of stayed here, which turned out to be handy. One night that next semester, I was eating dinner right before my night class and I spilled a big, huge glob of spaghetti right down the front of my white shirt. It was one of those total-disaster sort of days. I couldn’t even find my wallet to run to the store and pick something up. Fortunately, when I checked my car, I found this. An oversized SMU sweatshirt works over just about any outfit. So now I just keep it in the car for future emergencies. I’ve used it lots of times when I get cold, or I spill something, or whatever. Then I wash it and put it back in the car.” It made sense in a really twisted, non-linear sort of way. Eric was amazed that he not only followed her goofy logic, he actually found himself agreeing with it. If he kept a spare sweatshirt in his office, he wouldn’t have been cold tonight when he forgot his coat. Of course, with his luck he’d probably forget about the sweatshirt too. He found himself really liking the slightly scatterbrained biologist. Maybe a little too much for comfort. She had a great sense of humor and she wasn’t afraid to laugh at herself. If Eric wasn’t careful, he was going to make a complete idiot of himself. He pulled on the sweatshirt and got a good, solid whiff of her feminine, but not perfumey, scent on the fabric. It hit him like a lightning bolt, shooting straight to his crotch. He twisted uncomfortably in the narrow bucket seat, as his already snug jeans suddenly got a lot tighter. Since it was fairly late in the evening, all of the parking restrictions on campus were suspended, anyone could use any space that wasn’t marked for the handicapped. Lori parked in the administrative staff lot right next to Harrison Hall, the main administration building for the university. It was one of the oldest buildings on campus, three stories tall and made of dignified red brick heavily covered in climbing green ivy. Campus rumor even had it that Harrison Hall was haunted. Eric found the possibility of a ghost fascinating and sort of wished the rumors could possibly be true. He’d always thought it would be cool to run into a resident spirit, but he didn’t say anything to Lori. At this point, he wasn’t about to mention anything that might give her an excuse for changing her mind about exploring the basement with him. The building was mostly dark, but the hallways would still be lit until the doors were locked at ten and brighter lights still burned in one or two office windows. Eric checked his watch. They had forty-five minutes until the building would be locked up for the weekend. He mentioned this to Lori then nodded in admiration as she pulled a small but powerful flashlight out of her glove compartment. She also slipped a cell phone from her briefcase into the breast pocket of her jacket. “All set?” he asked, grateful for the opportunity to unfold his long legs after the cramped ride. He stood, stretching them with a sigh.

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She nodded. “Think so.” Then she suddenly reached into the backseat, rooted around and grabbed a slightly used zip-top plastic sandwich bag. She looked up at him and shrugged, stuffing it into another pocket. “You never know.” Eric suppressed a laugh. Here he’d thought scientists were supposed to be logical. Apparently, his impressions had been completely off, at least when it came to Lori. She wasn’t neat and orderly and her mind seemed to work in great, looping circles, though after talking to her for a while, he’d realized that she was undoubtedly quite brilliant. It made for a charming combination. Taking a bag for possible “evidence” struck him as silly, but the fact that she was taking him even remotely seriously was frankly incredible, under the circumstances. If Dr. Tremain wanted to play at forensics, he certainly wasn’t going to stop her. They encountered no one on the first floor of the old building, although Eric did hear a cleaning person humming along to the radio inside the financial aid office. The stairs downward were narrow, steep and dark, but Lori wouldn’t let him turn on a light. “We don’t want to let the entire word know we’re coming down here, do we?” she hissed. “Use the flashlight and be quiet.” Her sandals tapped on the tiled floor and she impatiently removed them, stuffing them into the back pocket of her skirt, then continued, barefoot. God, she was just adorable. What the hell, he thought, she couldn’t be any crazier than he was. He was the one who saw lizard tails in the first place. Taking the small flashlight from her unresisting fingers, he led the way down the damp and dusty service stairs. When he paused cautiously at the first landing, Lori must not have noticed, because a few seconds later, he felt her small form slam directly into his back. Tiny though she was, Lori was no featherweight. Eric staggered, but using his arms to brace himself, he managed to keep them both from tumbling down the remaining flight of stairs. “Shit!” she whispered loudly. “That hurt!” He turned, his arms automatically circling her shoulders to steady her. “You all right?” “Bumped my nose on your shoulder blade,” she murmured, rubbing the offended extremity. She had a ridiculously cute little upturned nose, Eric recalled, he wouldn’t want to see it damaged. Although he couldn’t see her face right now in the darkness, he had her pressed closely enough to his chest that he could tell where her nose was. It fit quite nicely in the small hollow between and beneath his pectoral muscles. He almost bent down to kiss it, but managed to stop himself just in time. Christ, Gordon, he thought with disgust, you just met the woman a couple of hours ago. Then he noticed that his hands were still resting on her shoulders and had started to rub gently, without his even being aware of it. He dropped them to his sides instantly. “Sorry.” “My own fault,” she muttered. Apparently she thought he meant about the bump and not about the inappropriate fondling. Good, maybe she hadn’t noticed.

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He turned quickly and opened the door to the basement hallway, then peeked out. “Nobody on this level,” he reported. There were no lights whatsoever in the corridor. Lori nodded. “One more floor to go.” He turned and once again led the way downward, this time holding tightly onto Lori’s hand to prevent another collision. She must have thought it was a good idea too—her fingers curled trustingly around his. The musty stairway ended at the subbasement, which then connected the building to a series of vast, underground tunnels linking all of the buildings on the old part of campus together. Steam pipes for heating, water mains and power lines all ran through the tunnel system from building to building. As one of the oldest and most central buildings on campus, Harrison Hall was the hub of the network. On his previous excursion Eric had discovered several locked doors leading away from the central portion of the Harrison Hall subbasement. Earlier that day, he’d accessed a map of the steam tunnel system and learned that the doors opened onto tunnels leading to different sections of the campus. He longed to explore the network, but unfortunately, he lacked the necessary access key. He resolved to get one on Monday. The people who wanted this computer mystery cleared up ought to be able to arrange that. The subbasements had never been modernized. The old stonework corridor was silent and dark and a damp, musty odor hung in the chilly air. Using the narrow beam of the flashlight, Eric led the way down the dank passage to the old janitor’s closet. Upon finding it empty, as expected, he pulled Lori inside, closed the door behind them and then turned on the light, reluctantly releasing her hand to do so. The single bare bulb cast a sickly yellow-white circle of light from the cobweb-covered ceiling. Lori looked around. “You were right about one thing,” she sniffled, stifling a sneeze. “Lots of dust.” Wiping her nose impatiently with the back of her hand, she studied the floor intently. “The only footprints are ours,” she added agreeably, pointing out the marks from his size-fourteen sneakers and her own tiny bare feet. She began to look around the cluttered and dusty space, finally letting out an excited squeal. “Eric, look over here!” Eric turned toward a corner of the room piled with a few dirty cardboard boxes and some old tin buckets—the kind with the rollers and mop-squeezers that weigh about half a ton each. “There’s a mouse in this bucket,” she whispered excitedly. “Alive?” he asked. He didn’t see why she’d be getting excited about a rodent. It was an old building, after all, but, heck, she was a zoologist. Lori giggled. “Not that kind of mouse, silly. Your kind of mouse.” She lifted an old two-button parallel port computer mouse by the cable. “Looks like our hacker has been upgrading his equipment.” Eric nodded. “Probably went for a decent serial mouse, or maybe a trackball. Faster.”

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Lori cheerfully stuck the mouse into the plastic bag she’d pulled out of her pocket and then resumed her detailed examination of the room. Eric guessed that she probably read a lot of mysteries and was really getting into the idea of searching for clues. Her enthusiasm was contagious, however, and he found himself enjoying the search. “Aha!” she cried. “Now what?” He was almost afraid to ask. “Skin,” she whispered, apparently remembering sporadically that this was supposed to be a stealthy operation. Now even Eric was excited. “Skin?” She whipped her keys out of the front pocket of her skirt and pulled a tiny pair of tweezers from the miniature Swiss Army knife she used as a key chain. The lady was full of surprises. Carefully, she lifted a maybe one-square-inch piece of translucent white stuff and added it to the bag. “Reptile skin, Eric,” she told him seriously. “Somebody has had some kind of reptile down here and it was shedding.” She was practically quivering with excitement. “There’s a tiny bit of flesh attached too, like this got snagged on something sharp.” Eric took the bag from her hands and gazed reverently through the clear plastic to the white stuff inside. Sure enough, it resembled the snake sheds he’d occasionally found as a child poking through the wooded parts of Philadelphia’s Fairmont Park. Then the meaning finally sunk in and he heaved a huge sigh of relief. “Then I’m not crazy,” he told Lori, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her around. “I really did see a lizard!” She grinned. “Well, you saw something, but I’m not sure that means you’re not crazy.” Her dark eyes looked up at him, crinkled mischievously, gleaming almost black in the harsh light. A lump the size of a dragon’s egg formed in Eric’s throat. She didn’t move, just kept looking up at him, and he couldn’t help himself. Her eyes drifted shut as he lowered his face to hers and kissed her.

***** It had been quite a while since Lori had been kissed. Her first thought after Eric’s lips had closed on hers was that he was way better at this than she’d have expected. That was also her last conscious thought for several minutes. He was so tall that she had to strain upward to reach him comfortably and her arms just sort of naturally wound themselves around his neck for support. There was welltoned muscle under the thick fabric of his borrowed sweatshirt, she noticed in some distant portion of her mind and his lips were firm but gentle, showing no hesitation as they expertly coaxed hers into opening for him. Eric nibbled gently at her lower lip, pausing to suck lightly at its center. She could smell the warm, masculine scent of his skin, even above the musty odor of the storeroom and it made her insides puddle.

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The kiss continued. Lori gasped softly as Eric’s tongue slid slowly, exploring along her front teeth. She returned the caress, slipping her own tongue alongside his, and he groaned huskily, tightening his hold around her waist. Lori squirmed against him, wanting to get even closer. As he deepened the kiss, she could feel his erection pressing hard into her stomach. What the hell am I doing? Panic struck just as Eric began to slip his big, warm hands up under Lori’s t-shirt. She desperately wanted his hands on her aching flesh, but now that her brain had kicked in, she realized that this was a very, very bad idea. She’d only known him for what—two hours? Heck, he could even be married or something. Whimpering a little, she reluctantly pulled away. Eric groaned again, but probably in frustration instead of pleasure. Nonetheless, he immediately dropped his hands back down to Lori’s denim-clad hips and leaned over her, resting his forehead on the top of her head. “I’d say I was sorry, but I’d be lying,” he muttered thickly. She giggled nervously then swallowed several times in rapid succession. “Are you married?” she blurted, immediately embarrassed for not being able to control her tongue. Eric chuckled wryly. “That’s what stopped you?” He tightened his grip, tugging her closer. She buried her face in his chest as he gently smoothed her tangled hair down her back. “Nope. No wife, no girlfriend, no infectious diseases. What about you?” She shook her head, rubbing her face across the lettering on the sweatshirt. “No. I…uh…haven’t been involved with anybody in a while,” she admitted. And she’d never been this attracted to anybody this fast, she added mentally. “Good,” he said gently. He took one hand away from her hips and lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes and for just a moment it felt like he was looking directly into her soul. “Because I’d like to see you again.” She didn’t pretend to misunderstand him. He wanted sex. With her. She could still feel his arousal pressing against her and she could also feel how tightly he was holding himself to keep his control. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time. Nobody, especially not her former fiancé, had ever once looked at her with that sort of urgent desire. “I don’t know.” She ducked her head back down to burrow into his shirt. She could smell his clean, masculine scent even over the fragrance of her own detergent on the sweatshirt and it left her wanting to taste him all over. He chuckled again and she felt the deep rumble in his chest against her flushed cheek. “How about if we just go out on a real date,” he offered. “See where it goes from there?” “All right,” she nodded gravely, grabbing the lifeline. She knew she shouldn’t. She was no good at relationships and right before her tenure review was the worst time in the world to start one, but she desperately wanted to see him again. “Tomorrow’s good.”

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“Works for me.” He rubbed his nose in her hair, inhaled then sighed deeply. “Dinner?” “Sure,” her voice was breathy, as if she’d been running uphill. Then again, it matched her racing pulse. He kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Okay, now that that’s settled, how about getting out of this place?” “Okay.” She stepped back, out of his arms, missing them almost instantly. Her hand was still shaky as she smoothed her hair back out of her face. “First, I want you to show me the steam tunnel entrance.” Eric shrugged. “Okay, if you want.” He turned off the light in the janitor’s closet and opened the door, peering out into the hallway. “Still nobody out here,” he told her, checking the corridor with her flashlight. He held out his empty hand to clasp hers and a thrill ran up her spine at the warmth and strength of his touch. Hand in hand, he led her down the hallway and around a corner, to where a rusty metal door marked the end of the passageway. Lori tried the knob, both relieved and frustrated to find it securely locked. She took the flashlight from Eric and shone it around the portal. “The handle has been cleaned recently,” she said excitedly. “There’s oil around the lock.” Eric just grunted in affirmation and Lori continued her examination. “There are scratches on the floor here,” she added, getting down on her knees to peer intently. “They look like they might be fresh.” “Great work, Sherlock,” Eric teased as he tugged her to her feet. Then he took her elbow and led her toward the stairway. “Now we’ve got to get going. It’s almost ten,” he told her. “They’re going to be locking up pretty soon.” She bounced along happily beside him. “Let’s take the skin back to my lab. We might be able to figure out what kind of lizard it’s from.” “At ten o’clock?” he asked, sounding surprised “Spoilsport.” She wrinkled her nose at him, even though she knew he couldn’t see it. “I suppose the lab work can wait ’til tomorrow,” she conceded, although she had a key to the Life Science building, of course. “I’ll check it out and let you know what I see tomorrow at dinner.” They waved at a custodian as they exited the first floor of the building. The man barely spared them a glance as he checked each of the office doors, turning off lights behind him. “You want a ride home?” Lori asked as she stood beside her little red car. Eric shook his head. “I’ll walk.” Lori smiled. “It’s snowing and you don’t have a coat on. Get in the car, silly.” He looked down at himself, seemingly surprised, as though he hadn’t realized he wasn’t wearing a coat. Lori’s heart did a little flip. He was almost as scatter-brained as she was. She found that horribly endearing somehow. “Oh yeah,” he muttered. “You

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probably want your sweatshirt back.” Nonetheless, he obediently folded himself into her little red car. “I’ll get it tomorrow,” she told him, gunning the vehicle and heading toward his street. “Right,” he affirmed. “Tomorrow, dinner.” He cocked his head slightly to the side. “Six?” “Okay,” she said affably. There was silence for a few minutes, until she turned onto his block. “Which house?” He pointed to the third one down, a small 1970s-era ranch with pale blue aluminum siding and crisp white trim. The porch light glowed with welcoming warmth. “That one.” After he mounted the steps to his porch, she flashed the headlights, then spun the car around and headed for home.

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Chapter Three Eric sat up on his weight bench and used a ragged gray towel to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. Good grief, she must think he was a complete idiot. He should have invited her out for a drink, or in for coffee, or something. He lay back down and began another set of presses. The “or something” was the problem though. He hadn’t invited her in because he hadn’t trusted himself to be alone with her in his house. There were just too many handy horizontal surfaces. After half an hour of heavy reps on the weight bench, he still had a hard-on just from thinking about Dr. Lori Tremain. For the first time in a couple of weeks, his brain wasn’t hashing over the puzzle caused by the WYRM virus. Instead it was intent on developing a plan to get the pretty biologist into bed. Remembering the kiss they’d shared in the janitor’s closet, his spirits, along with the relevant portion of his anatomy, rose. Judging by the way she’d responded to his kiss, she probably wasn’t too opposed to the idea. Still, Eric reminded himself firmly, she was female and that meant he had no hope in hell of understanding what went on in her mind. For some reason, Eric had an almost zero success rate when it came to figuring out the opposite gender. He liked women and was reasonably successful finding occasional partners for mutually pleasant, no-strings-attached affairs, but he absolutely could not make any sense of what went on in the female psyche. He lay back against the bench and continued his workout. A thought suddenly occurred to him and he sat up quickly, whacking his forehead on the barbell suspended above him. He rubbed at the sore spot absently, cursing himself out loud. He’d forgotten to get Lori’s phone number or address. How was he supposed to pick her up tomorrow at six if he didn’t know where she lived? He got up and padded barefoot into the other spare bedroom, which served as his home office. As he accessed her personnel records, he reflected wryly that there were decided advantages to having a network administrator’s pass codes. He tried, he really did, to limit his snooping to Lori’s phone number. The temptation proved impossible, however and he couldn’t help absorbing as much information about her as possible. She was thirty-three, he discovered. Actually, she was just about six months older than he was. Eric grinned to himself. An older woman, huh? Cool. He kept on reading. Lori, it seemed, had been at the university for almost five years and was, indeed, up for tenure in another eight months. He had lousy timing, as usual. He remembered all too well those last nerve-wracking months. Lori would be swamped and frantic. Not the most opportune time to start a new relationship. Her file looked good though, he noticed happily. There were several commendations, even a nomination for teacher of the year, an award bestowed not by

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fellow faculty but by the students themselves. She’d also been granted a relatively prestigious research award, published a couple of impressive-sounding papers and had been invited to speak at several prominent scientific meetings. Not a single complaint or official sanction marred her record. It didn’t look like the lady was in any danger of being denied her tenure. Eric wondered if he should just wait until after December to ask her out again, but no, that would be terminally stupid. In the meanwhile, some other raving genius could realize what a treasure she was and beat him to the punch. Eric knew he wasn’t God’s gift to women and he figured that he needed every bit of advantage he could get if he wanted to catch the elusive herpetologist. Feeling only slightly guilty, he exited the personnel system and pulled up old copies of the faculty newsletter, running a search for any information related to Dr. Lori Tremain. He found the teaching award nominations, the research award and the publication announcements. There, he was safe. If he accidentally gave away his knowledge of her achievements, he could admit to accessing the newsletter files. That shouldn’t offend her, she might even find it flattering. She’d never need to know about his stroll through her official records. He screwed around on-line for a while, trying to distract himself. An idea about the origin of the WYRM virus occurred to him and he began to access the newspaper files of SMU and other Midwestern universities, looking for any mention of computer viruses, back as far as the 1980s. The University of Michigan’s TIGER was one of the most famous. Eric remembered hearing about it back when he was in college. It had operated much like the present version of the WYRM, popping up at random and “eating”, or irretrievably deleting the file infected. He immediately sent off an email to a colleague in Ann Arbor, asking for more information. A few other localized problems had cropped up from time to time, but Eric found nothing that gave him any further leads regarding his current assignment. He tugged off his glasses and rubbed tiredly at the bridge of his nose. A quick glance at the clock on the corner of his screen told him it was twelve-thirty. Since tomorrow was Saturday, he didn’t have to worry about getting up in time for a morning class, which was a relief, since he didn’t think he’d be able to go to sleep anytime soon. His brain and body were still too tangled up with thoughts of lizards and WYRMs and sexy herpetologists. His stomach rumbled, so he stuck his glasses back onto his face and meandered into the kitchen that was still decorated in its original hues of avocado and harvest gold. A rummage through the refrigerator yielded a quart-sized plastic bowl of leftover kungpao chicken and fried rice, which he had cooked for his dinner a couple of nights earlier. Eric loved to cook, but he didn’t always have the time, so he made large batches of filling entrees that would feed him for a number of lunches, dinners and snacks. Since there was only about a quart left, he stuck the entire bowl into the microwave, one of the few modern additions to his kitchen, and a few seconds later the food’s warm, spicy aroma filled the tiny room.

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Eric carried the bowl, a set of chopsticks and a bottle of a local microbrewed beer through an archway and into his equally retro-styled dining room. The wrought iron and wood-grained dinette set, with its black vinyl-covered chairs, had come with the house. Since the table was easy to clean and the chairs were fairly comfortable, he’d never had any reason to replace the set, but tonight, looking at it made him wince. It was probably a good thing he hadn’t invited Lori to come in. His house was a 1970s decorator’s nightmare. He ate his snack in a few minutes while he glanced through The Evening Star, Kilkenny’s small daily newspaper. It was lousy, as usual, with a plethora of spelling and grammatical errors and a severely biased view of both local and national politics, but he’d discovered that as a member of the community, reading the paper was a sacred responsibility. Local shopkeepers, for instance, tended to get offended if you hadn’t seen their lovely little write-up in the business column and then you got all the worst cuts of meat, or last week’s produce. When he’d finished the comics and his food, he piled his dishes into the aging dishwasher, collected another bottle of beer and headed back to his computer, where he spent the next three hours blowing virtual toy army men into digitized puddles of green plastic slag.

***** Lori, too, passed a restless night. What could she have been thinking, kissing a man she’d only just met? It was utterly unlike her. She might be impulsive about many things, but life had taught her to be careful when it came to matters of the heart. Besides, after her broken engagement last year, she had promised herself no more complications until after her tenure review. And God knew any sort of relationship with the male of the species definitely constituted a complication. She picked up the glass microscope slide containing a tiny piece of the reptile skin she’d found the night before and centered it carefully on the stage of her high-powered Nikon scope. The scale pattern was interesting and annoyingly unfamiliar. Most lizards had relatively small scales, really nothing more than tiny hardened patches in the skin. Unlike the scales of fish, reptile scales weren’t something you could pluck out, like a hair or a feather. For reptiles, the scales were a characteristic of the skin itself. When snakes or lizards shed their outer layer of skin, the scales themselves weren’t lost. The ghostly-looking shed was merely the translucent top layer of the whole epidermis, scale pattern and all. While snakes shed their entire skin surface at once, leaving a snakeshaped “ghost”, lizards shed in a patchy, peeling manner, similar to a sunburned human. This bit of skin under Lori’s microscope had been ready to shed, the outer layer was white and dried, but it must have snagged on a nail or splinter, because a small piece of actual flesh, about the size of a kernel of corn, had been torn away along with the discarded scrap. Almost instinctively, she reached for a pencil and a pad of paper and began to sketch the scale pattern. The individual scales were larger than those of any lizard with which she was familiar, but they weren’t the smooth, regular scales of a snake’s belly 27

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either. Lori had reasoned that if they could identify the reptile, they would be a huge step closer to unmasking the hacker. Large reptiles were relatively common pets, but each individual species was rare enough that the local pet store owners and other reptile enthusiasts would very likely know just who kept a particular rare lizard. If it was a monitor, as Lori suspected and therefore a carnivore, the owner would almost inevitably have to frequent one of the local pet shops for rats or mice to feed his pet. She glanced fondly at Q. One of the advantages of owning an iguana was that they were vegetarians. She’d kept carnivorous reptiles, in the course of teaching and research, but she hated having to feed them live animals. Q, on the other hand, was quite happy with his salads and vitamin supplements. Her leopard geckoes were carnivorous, but they were so small that their diet primarily consisted of crickets. Sacrificing bugs was nowhere near as traumatic for Lori as feeding mice and rats. She finished her sketch and examined it critically. The Nikon had a camera attachment, but she’d left her digital camera at home, so the drawing would have to do. She carefully wrapped the remaining skin in plastic, then placed the neatly labeled sample into the freezer. Lori knew she was a bit of a slob in her personal life, but in the lab she was a total perfectionist. Moving over to her desk, she booted up her computer, humming along to an old Eagles tune that was playing on her favorite web radio station. Following her usual routine, she checked her email, returning a few greetings from friends and family members. She smiled fondly at the jpeg her sister Kelly had attached, exhibiting Kelly’s five-year-old daughter’s most recent artwork. Lori printed the drawing and used a magnet to stick it to the side of an ancient olive-drab filing cabinet. The picture of an improbably vividly colored dinosaur was signed to Aunt Lori with love, from Jasmine. There was also a reminder from Kelly regarding her son Jordan’s upcoming birthday party. Lori obediently checked her personal calendar to be sure the day was noted, which, of course, it was. She’d be there with bells on. Being an aunt was fun. You got all the benefits of having kids, but you never had to be the one to worry about discipline or dentist appointments. After answering a couple of student questions and deleting a handful of “irresistible” offers from e-companies, Lori moved on to more interesting things. She scanned the sketch she’d made and sent the picture to her old mentor at Michigan State. If Dr. Wirtz couldn’t identify the pattern, probably nobody in the United States would be able to do so. Then she closed out her mail and looked up a couple of herpetological web sites. There were some close-ups of various monitor species, but none of them seemed to have the pattern she was looking for. She glowered at the screen while gnawing on the cap of a pen. What the hell was it? Lost in her thoughts, Lori never heard her door open wider, or the sound of sneakered feet creeping up behind her. When a pair of warm hands covered her eyes from behind, she shrieked and nearly fell out of her chair.

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She turned, sputtering, to face her assailant and was greeted by the sound of rich feminine laughter. “God, you’re so easy to terrorize,” laughed the willowy blonde who now sat perched on the countertop next to Q. “You’re so intense when you work that I doubt you’d notice an earthquake.” Lori grinned and smothered a chuckle as she smoothed her hair back. “Bitch. Couldn’t you knock, or maybe just say hello?” The blonde shook her head, sending cascades of thick wavy hair swirling about her shoulders and waist. “Nah. That wouldn’t be any fun at all.” Lori rolled her eyes and laughed “Probably not,” she admitted. “What do you want, Wes? I’m supposed to be working.” Dr. Wesley Iversen crossed her arms over her impressive bosom and glared at Lori. “No, you’re not. It’s Saturday and you need to get out. So shut the computer down and let’s go. I’ll even buy dinner.” “I can’t, Wes,” Lori argued amicably. It was an ongoing battle, but this time Wes wasn’t going to win. Going out on the town with Wesley was always fun, if a little hard on the ego. Her outgoing personality and stunning Nordic appearance attracted men in droves and sometimes they even had friends who politely paid attention to Lori. Somehow, though, that didn’t sound appealing at all tonight. In fact, Lori was almost sure there was something else she was supposed to be doing. “Not tonight. I’ve got tons of work to do. Go away.” “You work too much,” Wesley argued. “Time to chill out, relax a little. You’ll get your tenure. Face it, with the overabundance of stodgy white males in this department, they can’t afford to lose one of their few young females.” She paused dramatically then went on. “Trust me, I’ve been listening to the conversations. The old boys, with the possible exception of our esteemed department chair, desperately want to keep you. Your tenure is not in any danger. Now let’s go get you changed into something a little more interesting, then we’ll drive to Ann Arbor and have a good time. We can crash at my sister’s place so we don’t have to drive home after the bars close.” Great. She’d be going out with not only Wes but with Wes’ equally gorgeous, redheaded sister Wendy as well. Wait a minute! Something was still nagging at Lori’s brain. Something she was supposed to do tonight. Oh crap! Her eyes widened, probably to the size of saucers. Wesley must have noticed because she paused mid-diatribe. “I can’t go out tonight!” Lori gulped. “I’ve got a date!” Wes’s bright blue eyes goggled and she wobbled on her perch. “Really? With whom?” Whom. Perfect grammar, as usual. As far as Lori could tell, Wes was the ultimate proof that life wasn’t fair. Anyone who looked as much like a Norse goddess as Wesley did should have, by all rights, been a brainless twit, or at the very least, a stuck-up bitch. Instead, Dr. Iversen was a certifiable genius, with three bachelor’s degrees, two master’s and a doctorate in animal genetics from Johns Hopkins. When Lori had first arrived at SMU and met Wes, she’d expected to despise the brilliant

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beauty, but somewhere along the way she’d discovered that for all her looks and brains, Wes was unpretentious, fun and had a truly wicked sense of humor, much like Lori’s own. Over the last few years the two women had become close friends. “Eric Gordon,” Lori answered. “From the computer science department.” “Lori!” Wes scolded. “What am I going to do with you? A computer geek? You can do better than that.” Lori felt the instinctive need to jump to Eric’s defense. “He’s not a geek. He’s nice!” Wes snorted. “Nice is for puppies. Nice is not what you look for on a date for Saturday night. Is he hot?” Lori flushed and looked away. Wes raised one eyebrow in a speculative gaze. “Really?” she drawled, her interest apparently aroused. “What does he look like? Skinny, glasses, pocket protector?” “Slim, not skinny,” Lori contradicted. “He’s actually pretty muscular, like he works out or something.” Wes narrowed her baby blues a little but didn’t speak, so Lori went on. “He’s tall, maybe six two or three, it’s hard for me to tell.” Being only five foot one made it difficult to judge the height of normal people. Everybody was tall compared to Lori. “My head doesn’t quite reach his shoulder. Sandy hair, a little long in back, and the prettiest green eyes I’ve ever seen.” She grinned. “And yes, he does wear glasses, but no pocket protector.” Her friend appeared to weigh the possibilities then nodded in reluctant approval. “Any good in bed?” Lori’s pale skin turned an even brighter shade of scarlet. “How should I know? It’s our first date.” She tried to stop there, but she just couldn’t. She had to talk to somebody about her meeting with Eric the night before. “But if he does that anywhere near as well as he kisses, it’s amazing that some woman hasn’t got him chained to a bed somewhere.” Wes responded with a shout of laughter. “Oh man, I have got to hear this! Where did you meet this guy and how on Earth did you end up kissing him before your first date?” Lori told Wes the entire story, leaving out Eric’s theory about a giant lizard in the steam tunnels. Instead, she attributed to him the idea that identifying the reptile would help lead to the name of a pet owner. Wes nodded judiciously. “Sounds reasonable,” she murmured. “You said you have some tissue?” Lori nodded her affirmative. “Want me to run the DNA? I should have some spare time in the lab this week,” Wes offered. “In fact, I have a new grad assistant to train for the summer. Your sample will be perfect to start him out on.”

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Lori agreed happily. Once they had a chromosomal profile, it could be compared to the standards for various species. That would be an even better identification tool than the scale pattern. She fetched the half-frozen sample from the freezer. Wes took it, then immediately moved back to the topic she considered more pertinent. “So you kissed this guy in a janitor’s closet last night?” Lori nodded, flushing in embarrassment. “I know. It isn’t like me at all, is it?” Wes smiled enigmatically. “And he’s absolutely nothing like that slick weasel Warren?” Lori winced at the mention of her ex-fiancé. Wes had never, never liked Warren, Lori remembered. She should have trusted her friend’s instincts all along. “Nothing at all,” she insisted. “Not a rebound thing, is it?” Lori’s eyebrows drew together and she nibbled thoughtfully on her full lower lip. “I don’t think so. That was more than a year ago. Besides, nothing with Warren was ever that—” she hesitated. “Hot?” Wes offered helpfully. Lori grimaced. “Yeah,” she agreed reluctantly. “It was never that hot, or that fast, or that intense with Warren. I never wanted to rip his clothes off in a filthy closet.” Wesley laughed again. “I can’t imagine anyone feeling an urge to rip the ice king’s clothes off anywhere. Ever. Not even the perfect Miss Marji.” Lori wasn’t so certain. As far as she could tell, Marjorie Barnett thought Warren was perfection personified and practically worshipped the ground he walked on. Lori didn’t mind that, she wished the two of them joy of each other, but unfortunately, Marji happened to be the biology department secretary. She was also the niece of the Dean of the College of Business, who was Dr. Warren Chamberlain’s current boss. “Speaking of Marji and Warren,” Wes punctuated this opening with a gagging motion. “Are you actually planning to attend her bridal shower next month?” The invitations, or perhaps more accurately, summonses, had appeared in their faculty mailboxes earlier that week. Lori nodded reluctantly. “It has been pointed out to me that as a candidate for tenure, it would be inappropriate to let my personal sensibilities interfere with my departmental obligations.” She parroted the sanctimonious words in a clipped, East Coast accent, mimicking their department chairman. “In other words, Vandecar told you that you’d better show up,” Wes interpreted. The sticky situation between the department chair’s secretary and one of his junior faculty members was perhaps Lori’s biggest hurdle in her quest for tenure. “You got it!” Lori affirmed, rolling her eyes. “She just wants me to be there so she can lord it over me. Why can’t she get it through her head that I don’t want the bastard? I wouldn’t have him back on a plate. Hell, I can’t think of two people who deserve each other more than her and Warren!”

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“It’s because there’s nothing inside her head except excess hair spray,” Wes informed her friend matter-of-factly. “If you stuck a needle into her skull, the whole thing would implode.” They both laughed and then Wes looked pointedly at her diamond-studded gold watch. “What time is your date tonight?” Lori finished off her soda and tossed the capped bottle across her office into the box she kept for empties. “Two points,” she noted and then responded to her friend. “Six o’clock. Why?” Wes snorted. “Because it’s almost five now. Were you planning on wearing jeans and a sweatshirt?” Lori looked down at her outfit in horror. Winnie-the-Pooh gazed innocently back at her from the front of her well-worn yellow sweatshirt. “Shit!” she cried. “I’ve got to go.” She grabbed her keys and the canvas briefcase she’d left in the office the night before and raced toward the parking lot. Wes slipped the lock on Lori’s lab as she followed Lori out into the hallway. “Hey, Lori,” Wesley called after her departing friend. “What?” “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Lori snorted over her shoulder as she fled. That left an awful lot of leeway. Back at her apartment, she stared into her closet in a panic while she fluffed her hair to speed the drying process and gnawed on her lower lip. What on Earth was she supposed to wear? She had no idea what sort of a dinner Eric had planned. Standing there in her towel, she had a sudden, terrible thought. She’d never told Eric where she lived. How was he supposed to pick her up? Maybe he hadn’t been serious about this date idea after all. After worrying about that for a moment, she managed to reassure herself. Eric certainly hadn’t been faking his arousal down in that basement. She remembered all too well the feel of him pressed against her abdomen. Tightening the turquoise bath sheet she had wrapped around herself, she plodded out into the living room of her small upstairs apartment and rummaged under an end table for a copy of the university faculty directory. She found Eric’s home number, thanking the powers that be that he was listed. As she reached for the receiver, the phone rang, startling her so much that she lost her grip on both the directory and her towel, both of which fell to her feet and landed on her toes. Stark naked, hopping on one foot and swearing under her breath, she answered the phone. “Hello, Lori? This is Eric,” came the warm, masculine voice. Yum! “Eric Gordon.” “Hi,” she replied breathlessly. “I was just about to call you.” “You were?” he queried. “What for?” God, this is awkward, Lori thought. “I wanted to know what to wear,” she explained. “Then I realized that we hadn’t exchanged phone numbers. Thank God for the faculty directory, huh?” “Uh, yeah,” he answered. “The faculty directory.”

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“So what should I wear?” she asked again, patiently. It was obvious that he was almost as nervous as she was, which was such a relief after dealing with Warren, who was never nervous about anything. Lori’s former fiancé had always simply assumed that everything would go the way he expected it to and the people around him generally seemed to fall right into line, just like Lori had at first. “I don’t know,” Eric replied, sounding almost flustered. “Wear whatever you want.” “Where are we going?” she asked. “Is it someplace dressy, or is it casual?” “Oh,” he sighed. “Dressy, I guess.” He named a restaurant in a nearby town that had an excellent reputation. Lori had been there several times with Warren. She didn’t particularly care for its pretentious atmosphere, but at least they weren’t likely to be surrounded by their students. “Okay,” she replied. “I’ll see you at six?” “Sure,” he answered. “Umm, where do you live?” A slight giggle escaped her. “Oops,” she said. “I guess that would be kind of useful.” She gave him directions to the Victorian house she shared, in the old downtown section of Kilkenny. “I’m on the upper floor, but it’s an outside entrance. Just come on up the side stairs and knock.” She had barely half an hour to get ready, but the choice of restaurants pretty much decided on her outfit for her. There were only a few items in her wardrobe that Warren had considered suitable for such a respectable establishment. Quickly, she threw on the little black dress that Warren had picked out and shoved her mostly dry hair up into a semblance of a French twist, held in place with a mother-of-pearl comb. Simple pearl earrings and staid black pumps completed the outfit and she was just putting the final touches on her subtle makeup when she heard a knock at her kitchen door. Hastily grabbing her black coat and clutch bag, she dashed out into the kitchen. He didn’t look at all like a computer geek, was her first thought on seeing Eric. He was clad in neatly pressed tan chinos, a chocolate turtleneck and a heathery brown tweed blazer. He looked like some British country lord out to view the estate. In a word, delicious. Eric mounted the steep flight of wooden steps that led to Lori’s second-floor balcony and he wondered suddenly if he should have brought flowers. Oh well, he shrugged to himself. Too late now. The porch was mostly empty, except for a peeling white rocking chair and a stack of empty flowerpots. White slatted blinds blocked the interior of her apartment from his view. A fanciful brass doorknocker in the shape of a turtle was mounted on the heavy wooden door, so he knocked firmly then waited impatiently ’til he heard the click of high heels on the other side of the barrier. Moments later, the door was open and he stepped inside. The apartment was much as he’d expected, warm, cluttered and cheerful. Lori, however, was not. What had happened to the youthful, perky adventurer from last 33

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night? The woman who stood before him now was dressed in a prim little black number that totally hid her voluptuous curves and turned her porcelain complexion to wax. Her soft silky hair was yanked to her scalp and lacquered firmly in place. There was absolutely no hint of the exuberant personality he’d encountered the night before. “Shall we go?” she asked calmly, slipping her keys into her small black purse. Her plain black shoes tapped loudly on the black-and-white tiled floor. “Of course,” he responded just as formally. He opened the door and, remembering his manners, gestured for her to lead the way. She stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked out over the array of vehicles parked on the street. “It’s the yellow one,” he told her, striding toward his canary-colored mini-SUV and opening the passenger door. He handed her in politely, then walked around and climbed in himself. His car might look like a shoebox on wheels, as his officemate had so kindly put it, but the interior was comfortable and he’d spent a good chunk of the afternoon making sure it was clean. “Nice car,” she offered quietly. “Yeah, well, I like it,” he returned lamely, wishing he had any idea what to say. “My old pickup finally gave up the ghost last year, so I had to get something new.” So much for conversation. They were mostly silent for the rest of the twenty-minute drive. Dinner didn’t progress much better. Eric’s one-pound pork chop was probably excellent, but to him, it tasted like sawdust and Lori only picked at her grilled swordfish. The pricey bottle of wine he’d ordered might as well have been so much kerosene for all he enjoyed it. Lori told him about her efforts with the reptile skin and she relayed Wes’ offer to run the DNA test. Eric thanked her and agreed that finding out the species of the reptile could help lead to the hacker. Then they were silent for another few minutes and Eric wracked his brain trying to figure out what was wrong. They’d gotten along so well, connected so easily last night and today it was like they were utter strangers. Had he done something to upset her? Was that why she seemed so rigid this evening? He made another stab at conversation. “So where are you from originally?” She accepted the gambit with a ghost of a smile. “I grew up in the Detroit area,” she told him quietly. “About an hour and a half from here. I did my undergraduate work here at Southern, then I went to Michigan State for my master’s and doctorate.” Eric nodded. She’d given him her whole life story in two seconds. Now what? Fortunately, Lori saved the moment. “What about you?” “I was born in Pennsylvania, but I grew up mostly in Colorado Springs. Went to school in Boulder, then UCLA. I ended up here about seven years ago.” There, he’d given her exactly the same sort of synopsis she’d provided him. He groped for other topics. “Does your family still live in Detroit?” She nodded. “My folks spend part of the winter in Florida now, but they’re in Troy the rest of the time. I’ve got a sister in Novi and a brother in Sterling Heights.”

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He’d learned enough southern Michigan geography to know that her relatives were scattered throughout some of the more well-to-do suburbs. “Are you close?” She nodded, sighing. “Pretty much. Since I’m the only one who’s still single, they all seem to see it as their mission in life to marry me off. Other than that we get along okay. My sister Kelly and her husband Joe have three kids. Gary and Vanessa have two. The kids are fun.” She looked up at him and for a second, he almost saw a glimpse of the woman he’d seen last night. “What about you? Any family?” He shook his head. “Not to speak of. No siblings, and my father died about ten years ago. My mother and her current husband are in Europe somewhere.” “I’m sorry,” she murmured. He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. It’s history.” There was another lull as the busboy removed their plates and the waitress brought the dessert tray. Lori shook her head miserably, so Eric waved off the waiter and asked for the check. As he was signing the credit card receipt, he noticed Lori stiffen and her eyes went wide as though in panic. “What’s wrong?” he asked solicitously. Her face had gone deadly pale and her hand was shaking as she reached for her mostly empty water glass. “Are you okay?” “Nothing,” she mumbled. “It’s just—someone I used to know.” Eric looked around and saw that another couple had been seated near them and the man was gazing speculatively at Eric’s date. Lori was practically cringing. All of Eric’s male hackles rose. “Who’s he?” “Dr. Warren Chamberlain,” Lori answered. “Chair of the business management department.” That explained the perfectly tailored three-piece suit and the hundred-dollar tie. Those business school types set a great store by their appearance. It was one of the reasons Eric usually didn’t have much use for them. This guy, with his razor-cut dark hair and manicured fingernails, Eric detested on sight. He also realized there was more going on than Lori was telling him. “And?” he prodded. She fixed her eyes firmly on her hands, which were twisting something, probably her napkin, in her lap. “And he’s my ex-fiancé.”

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Chapter Four Ouch! “That’s the current model he’s with now.” Lori made a face and went on. “She’s his boss’s niece and my boss’s secretary.” Eric was no social genius, but he could see that the elegant-looking couple still had the power to make Lori feel insecure and for some reason that bothered the hell out of him. “Do you still love him?” he asked gently, although the thought made his stomach turn, after the way she’d responded to his kiss the night before. Still, he had to know. “God, no!” she cried softly, with a genuine flicker of amusement penetrating her expression of discomfort. “I just can’t stand the way they look down their perfect little noses at me. They always manage to make me feel like a bug under a microscope.” Eric smiled nastily. “So let’s fix that, shall we?” He stood and held out his hand, offering to assist her up from the table. “Just follow my lead, okay?” Lori nodded and accepted his hand. What a mess. Of course Warren had had to show up tonight, it put the finishing touch on a miserable evening. This might not be her first date since the break-up of her engagement the previous summer, Wesley had seen to that, but this was the first time she’d really wanted the date to lead to something more. She wasn’t exactly sure what yet, but she knew she wanted to get to know Eric a whole lot better and after tonight that didn’t seem too likely. As he came around the table, Eric pulled Lori close and to her great astonishment, kissed her hard. All the passion she’d felt the night before flooded through her and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist for balance. His soft cotton turtleneck was warm and smooth beneath her trembling fingers. By the time he pulled back, Lori’s breath was coming in short, labored pants. Eric’s green eyes gleamed down at her and his big hands steadied her while she regained her balance. As her brain regained control from her hormones, Lori became mortified. “What was that for?” she hissed under her breath. Eric grinned unrepentantly. “Ready to go?” His arm remained possessively around her waist as they walked to the door. His other hand teased a small strand of hair that had come loose from its knot during their kiss. To Lori’s further humiliation, their exit took them right past the table where Warren and Marji were sipping aperitifs. Warren’s gaze was censorious. Marji’s was downright petulant. It seemed that a confrontation was inevitable. “Lori,” Warren offered curtly. “How unexpected to find you here.” His polite words were at odds with his castigating tone.

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“Oh hello, Warren,” Lori offered absently, as if she’d just noticed the man. At least that was the tone she’d been striving for. Eric’s arm squeezed her waist—in encouragement, she hoped. Eric held out a hand to the other man. “Hi there. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Eric Gordon, from Computer Science. You must be Warren Chamberlain.” Warren raised an eyebrow, but courtesy wouldn’t allow him to refuse the handshake. “That’s right, Mr…George, was it? And this is my fiancée, Miss Marjorie Barnett.” Eric shook Marji’s hand gallantly, ignoring Warren’s deliberate mistake with his name. Lori had no idea what he was up to, but since it seemed to be annoying Warren, she let him get away with it. For now. “So pleased to meet you, Miss Barnett,” Eric offered, then turned a warm, flagrantly sexy gaze back on Lori. “You’re lovely, of course. It almost makes Chamberlain here look like less than an idiot for giving up Lori.” He dropped a swift kiss on Lori’s hair. “But then, all’s well that ends well, right?” His possessive caresses left no doubt as to his implication. Marji wasn’t quite bright enough to realize she’d been insulted. Warren, it seemed, was for once shocked speechless. Eric helped Lori on with her coat. “Enjoy your meal,” he told the other couple as he began to lead Lori away. “Personally, I’m not sure this place lives up to its reputation. I found it to be unusually—stuffy.” On that note, he quickly shepherded Lori out the door and into the parking lot. Lori’s outrage built in silence until they were about halfway back to Kilkenny. Then it finally exploded. “What the hell was that all about?” she nearly shouted, startling Eric so much that the vehicle swerved momentarily. “Huh?” he returned. “What do you mean?” “I mean back at the restaurant. Why did you kiss me in front of the entire dining room?” “Oh that.” He turned to her and grinned, his teeth visible in the darkening twilight. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” “No!” she shrieked, although she was aware that she was lying. “That was the most embarrassing moment of my life!” Eric snorted. “What, Dr. Perfect never kissed you in public?” “Of course not!” “What a loser. You’re way better off without that stiff,” Eric told her. “I know that,” she muttered, angry to find herself agreeing with this heathen. She had to admit, though, he’d handled Warren and Marji with great aplomb. “Look,” he uttered quietly. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. The idea was to let them see that you have a good thing going without him. Isn’t that what you wanted?” Lori nodded grudgingly. “I guess. I’m just usually a lot more—restrained,” she finished.

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Eric snorted. “You mean repressed,” he grumbled, so low that she barely heard it. “So do you want to go to a movie or something?” Lori didn’t want to let on, but his accusation about repression had hurt. It also ticked her off. “I don’t think so,” she told him coolly. “I seem to have developed a headache. I’d like to go home, if you don’t mind.” “Whatever you want,” he replied levelly. Leaving the freeway exit ramp, he turned toward downtown, rather than toward the commercial strip where the movie theaters and nightclubs were located. When he pulled into her driveway, she was out of the car before he could come around to open her door. Pleased with that minor victory, she allowed him to follow her up the steps to her apartment. She unlocked her door, then turned to him and stuck out her hand. “Good night, Eric. I’ll call you when Wesley gets her DNA results. Thank you for an—interesting dinner.” He started to reach for her hand then seemed to think the better of it. “Oh hell,” he groaned and pulled her into his arms. His lips were on hers before Lori could react. She opened her mouth to refuse, but by then it was too late. He took advantage of the opening to plunge his tongue inside her mouth and deepen the kiss, until she could no longer remember what she had been trying to say. Then, as suddenly as he had started, Eric stopped. “Good night, Lori,” he growled. “You’d better go inside now.” Lori just stood there on the wooden porch, befuddled. Eric opened her door then gently nudged her through it. He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead then softly closed the door in her face. Lori stood staring blankly at her closed front door until she heard the sound of his car start up and then peel out of her driveway and down the street. He was driving too fast, she noted abstractedly. She hoped he didn’t get a ticket—or hurt. She moved through the kitchen and plopped down, coat and all, onto the sofa, buried her face in a cushion, and cried.

***** By Monday afternoon, Lori still hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Eric. She’d managed to grade student term papers and do her weekly laundry on Sunday, but the grading had taken her twice as long as usual because her mind kept wandering. The weather had turned warm again, so Lori sat outside at a picnic table near the campus cafeteria, eating her lunch and mentally replaying Eric’s phone call on Sunday. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he’d said. “I know you were kind of upset last night.” Kind of upset? Typical male understatement. “I’m fine.” That wasn’t even an understatement, it was a flat-out lie. She’d come to a conclusion during the long, sleepless night that had passed since he’d closed her door in her face. She simply didn’t

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have the time or the emotional energy to date anyone seriously right now. Maybe after her tenure review, she could think about it, but right now she had to focus on her job and that didn’t leave much left over for dealing with these terrifying emotional mood swings. She was too attracted to Eric to keep things light, so she couldn’t afford to see him at all. She’d get him his lizard data, then she wouldn’t see him again. “So how about this Friday we try something different,” Eric had offered. “There’s a great burger place down by the river.” “I don’t think so,” she’d told him. “I really don’t have much time for that sort of thing right now. I’ll let you know when the DNA profile is ready though.” Then she’d said goodbye just as abruptly and hung up on him before she could change her mind. She munched on a potato chip, trying to reassure herself that she’d made the right decision. “Wake up, Lori. You’re a million miles away.” The deep bass voice was fondly teasing. Lori looked up and smiled. “Ben! Where were you all weekend?” Lori’s downstairs neighbor smiled widely and plunked his lunch tray down across from hers. “Went to visit my dad,” he told her. “He’s out of the hospital now and settling in at home with the nurse.” “That’s great,” she replied sincerely. “Still causing trouble?” Ben Montoya nodded. His father Raul was way too crotchety to let a little thing like cancer get him down for long. Lori had met the older man once when he’d visited Ben about a year ago and instantly fallen in love with Raul Montoya’s teasing Latin charm. “So how was your weekend?” Ben asked, digging into his chef’s salad, which made Lori feel instantly guilty for her submarine sandwich and all its calories. Lori shuddered. “Weird.” Wise black eyes probed deeply. “What’s wrong, chica?” She sighed. Why couldn’t she have fallen for a great, good-looking guy like Ben? His half-Hispanic coloring and tall, rugged build were the stuff of any girl’s dreams and he was probably the most sensitive man she’d ever met. He was a Ph.D. student doing a dissertation on western European folklore, but he was actually a few years older than Lori, having served in the military ’til a knee injury had necessitated an early retirement. Unfortunately, Lori’s affection for him was strictly friendly, as was his for her. Besides, from the moment they’d met, Ben had been completely hung up on Wesley Iversen. “Lori?” “I had a date Saturday night,” she began slowly. Ben’s black eyes hooded intently and his muscles went rigid. “Did he hurt you?” “No!” Lori was shocked at the idea but touched that her friend would so swiftly spring to her defense. She grinned a little at the thought of siccing Ben on Eric, but

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discounted it. Ben had been a member of the Special Forces. Eric wouldn’t stand a chance and she really didn’t want to see him physically injured. Ben had relaxed a little when Lori grinned, so she reluctantly told him the whole story, starting with the lizard in the tunnels and ending with Sunday’s phone call. Ben listened in silent empathy. “Sounds like you’re really interested in him, chica. Why not see where it takes you?” Lori made a face at Ben. “I told you, I don’t have time for this now,” she reminded him. “It’s too distracting.” Ben shook his head. “Distractions can be good, you know. Don’t let your experience with the slime ball warp you for life.” Lori had discovered only after she’d broken up with Warren that Ben had despised him as much as Wesley had. In retrospect, she realized that the antipathy he’d generated in her two closest friends ought to have told her something. “Life is short. If you see a chance for happiness, even for a little while, grab it with both hands and don’t let go.” Ben had been widowed early in his military career. He didn’t talk about it much, but Lori knew he had genuinely loved his young wife and had mourned her death in a car accident on the Autobahn for a long time. “Which explains why you spend most of your Saturday nights doing laundry with me,” she retorted gently. Ben grinned. “No, my problem is entirely different. I know what I want, but I do draw the line at abducting unwilling females.” His voice was full of dry humor. “How is Wesley, anyway?” Lori smiled. “Stubborn and blind, as usual. Terrified of any relationship that feels too serious.” Ben stared pointedly. “Sound familiar?” Lori flushed. “I suppose so,” she conceded. “I don’t know about serious, it’s awfully early for that, but I know I can’t get this guy out of my mind.” “You’re a scientist, chica,” Ben told her. “What do you think you should do about your unresolved questions?” “Standard scientific method, straight out of Bio 101, formulate a hypothesis, test it, draw conclusions,” she answered wryly. “Hypothesis, I am seriously attracted to Eric Gordon.” Her friend laughed. “That’s not a hypothesis, that’s a given. Try this one. ‘Lori and Eric could have a mutually enjoyable relationship.’ It’s not a bad starting place. Then you experiment, see if it could be true.” Lori nibbled on her lip. “Fair enough, I suppose. I’m just not sure that I’m up to this right now. Maybe it’s too soon after the whole Warren debacle.” Ben reached over and touched her cheek. “So think about it, but not for too long. Follow your heart, chica. It’s got good instincts.”

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At the table behind Ben Montoya, another man sat, seething. He’d overheard the whole conversation. Someone had seen the reptile and someone was getting far too close to breaking the WYRM virus. The little bitch from Biology was helping the interfering Professor Gordon stick his nose into things that shouldn’t concern him. A nasty grin spread across the man’s face. He’d just see about that, he decided. There were a lot of ways to deal with nosy bitches and high-and-mighty systems analysts. In a few days they’d be off his back, or they’d seriously regret it.

***** Eric poured himself a second cup of the sludge that his department called coffee and waited for the photocopier to finish running off his handouts for the next day’s classes. “Hi, Eric,” a husky, feminine voice murmured up close to his ear. Eric jumped, spilling a glob of the scalding black tar onto his bare forearm. “Ow!” he cried. “Damn it, Celia, what did you do that for?” Celia Clemens, a colleague of Eric’s, laughed softly. “Sorry, pal. Didn’t realize you were off in your own little world.” Eric nodded. “Sorry. Still got that virus problem on my mind, I guess.” It was a lie. He’d been daydreaming about Lori Tremain again. He just couldn’t seem to get those big brown eyes out of his mind, but telling that to Celia would essentially be taking his life in his hands. All of campus would know about his unsuccessful date within milliseconds. “So, I’ve got tickets to the symphony concert on Friday, want to go?” “Huh?” Eric asked, shaking his head. “What did you say?” Celia laughed again. Her short pale hair was at odds with her tanned complexion and dark eyes. Eric knew from personal, up-close observation that Celia was not a natural blonde, but she wore it well. “Earth to Eric, come in, Dr. Gordon. I asked you if you wanted to take me to the concert at Harrison Auditorium this Friday.” Eric thought about it for a second. Celia was a good-looking woman, which made her a truly hot commodity in a department dominated by male computer nerds. For some inexplicable reason, she had picked on Eric as a likely escort and after an uncomfortable incident when a male co-worker had asked him out, Eric had seen a need to assert his masculinity just a little. So he’d gone out with Celia a few times, even had a little lighthearted, carefree sex now and then, but things between them had never been serious. Fortunately, she agreed with him and for the last year or so they’d strictly been friends. He considered her offer for this weekend seriously for a moment. Maybe a romp with Celia would take his mind off Lori, he thought. Maybe it was exactly what he needed. “I don’t think so, Cele. Maybe some other time.” Damn, where had that come from?

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Celia regarded him thoughtfully. “Who is she, Eric?” Eric looked up at her in genuine confusion. Was he that transparent? “Nobody.” Celia laughed then lightly punched him in the shoulder. “Whatever you say, hon. Good luck and all that.” “You’re not mad?” he asked, tilting his head curiously. “We were always just friends, Eric,” she answered kindly. “Far better to leave it that way, don’t you think?” Eric nodded in amazement. Then, collecting his copies from the collating tray, he headed back to his office, still in a daze.

***** Across campus, the executor of the WYRM virus grinned down at his monitor. There, the first step was done. If the bitch was smart, she’d take the warning and lay off. If not, there would be more persuasion to follow.

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Chapter Five “Hey Dave, do you understand women?” David Garvaglia, Eric’s officemate, almost spewed a mouthful of Mountain Dew. “What? Hell, no! I’m a man, dude. Ergo I cannot possibly understand women. Simple logic.” “Oh.” Eric pondered for another moment. “So that’s what’s been eating you this week?” Dave asked. “I wondered what bug had crawled up your ass. It figures there’d be a woman involved. What happened, did Celia decide it was time to get serious?” Eric shook his head. “No, Celia just more or less told me to get lost, but that’s not what’s bugging me.” He fidgeted with a paperclip, bending it into all sorts of shapes that the manufacturer had never intended. “More to the point, that’s not who’s been bugging me.” Dave swiveled his chair one hundred and eighty degrees to face Eric and put his combat-booted feet up onto a battered steel two-drawer filing cabinet. “Women problems, huh?” He scratched at his full, reddish-brown beard thoughtfully. “So, tell Uncle Davey all about it.” Eric turned his own chair so that the two men were face-to-face and placed his own sneaker-covered, size fourteen feet opposite Dave’s on the file cabinet, but crossing his ankles. It was their typical brainstorming pose. Their desks each faced opposite walls of their small office and what little space they had was filled to overflowing with books, papers and expensive computer hardware. This one, small black file cabinet was kept bare for the express purpose of serving as a footstool. “Remember I told you about finding that computer in the subbasement of Harrison?” “Yeah,” Dave answered. “So where does the babe come in?” Eric flashed him a snotty look. “Her name is Lori and I’m getting to that.” He finished off the dregs of the so-called coffee and tossed his mug back onto its usual corner of his desk. Then he recounted the events of Friday and Saturday nights, leaving out very little except for his constant frustration since that first kiss. That, he assumed, David would be able to infer on his own. “So I called her Sunday and she blew me off. Then yesterday at lunch time, I saw her sitting with this Antonio Banderas look-alike,” he finished glumly. “When Celia asked me out, I knew I should go, but somehow I couldn’t. I just don’t want to be with Celia. I want to be with Lori.” Garvaglia laughed. “Dude, you have got it bad!” “Shut up, jackass!”

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The insult only made David laugh harder. “Oh man, and I thought this was going to be a boring semester. Boy was I wrong! This is going to be fun to watch.” Eric snorted and threw a wad of paper across the tiny space at his friend’s head. “What’s there to watch? She blew me off. She had lunch with some cover model. It’s over.” “Man, haven’t you learned yet that women are never that straightforward?” The phone rang, cutting off Eric’s disgusted response. David grabbed the receiver. “Yeah, he’s here. Who shall I say is calling?” A wide, nasty grin formed under the bushy beard and mustache. “Sure, Ms. Tremain, I’ll get him.” He covered the receiver with one hand and chortled. “Yo, lover-boy. Seems there’s a Dr. Lori Tremain on the line. You want to talk to her?” “Give me that, you asshole!” Eric reached out one long arm and snagged the phone out of David’s beefy hand. There were occasional advantages to having limbs like an orangutan. “Lori?” “Hi, Eric.” Her voice was sweet and hesitant. “Hi yourself. What’s up?” As usual, he didn’t know what to say to her. “I think I got hit by the WYRM virus,” she told him. Her rich, feminine voice was sending a hot current of lust straight to Eric’s groin. “My leopard gecko data files suddenly disappeared this afternoon.” Damn! Eric winced in sympathy. He knew how important that research was to her, especially this close to tenure time. “Have you tried to recover the file?” “Um-hmm,” she affirmed. “My department computer tech tried too. No luck. I thought that maybe, since you’re familiar with the virus, you might have some suggestions.” Eric looked at his watch. It was four thirty, he was close enough to done for the day. “Will you be in your office in about fifteen minutes?” he asked. She agreed and he hung up the phone, glaring back at Dave’s amused expression. “She got WYRMed,” Eric told Dave blandly. “Guess knowing a professional geek comes in handy now and then.” “Or it gave her a good excuse to make the next move,” David offered helpfully. “Take her to dinner after you finish playing with her hardware. Then take her home and play with her software.” “Have I told you lately that you’re a dickhead?” Eric asked casually, gathering up a handful of his favorite utility disks. David checked his navy surplus diving watch. It blended well with his usual outfit of camouflage jacket, worn jeans and combat boots. Today, the orange t-shirt under the fatigue jacket read, “You’re just jealous because the voices only talk to me”. Eric thought that this particular shirt probably had a basis in fact. Sometimes David really did live in a parallel universe. Dave grinned at Eric as he replied, “Not in the last five minutes, anyway.”

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“Well, remind me next time.” Eric grabbed his backpack and stuffed the disks inside. “Why don’t you go kill someone, or something?” “Paintball isn’t ’til Saturday and I don’t have sword-fighting practice ’til the weather warms up. The only things I’ll be killing tonight are the bad guys in the latest version of Halo. Stop by and see it if you don’t get anywhere with your science teacher.” Dave was into computer games, live-action role-playing, medieval recreations and pseudo-military operations—pretty much all the stereotypical computer programmer hobbies. Eric tagged along once in a while, but he wasn’t seriously into any of it, like a lot of their colleagues were. Strangely enough, for a systems analyst, Eric actually enjoyed real life, at least some of the time. Especially recently, when it brought him into contact with a certain brown-eyed herpetologist.

***** Lori waited anxiously, nervous about facing Eric for the first time since their disastrous date. She was also trying to shoo an openly curious Wesley out of her office. “But I want to meet him,” Wes asserted, swinging her legs from her perch on top of Lori’s lab bench. “Somebody’s got to check up on you. Look what you ended up with the last time.” “Go away, Wesley. The last thing I need right now is competition.” The words were friendly, but there was a smattering of underlying insecurity. “Look what happened the last time I introduced you to my date.” “I hated Warren, he hated me. What’s the problem?” “Oh,” Lori was momentarily nonplussed. “I forgot about Warren. I was talking about Ben.” Wes winced. Ben Montoya was still a bit of a sore spot in the two women’s friendship. “You and Ben were never like that.” Lori grinned. “I know that, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t have hopes those first few days. You gotta admit, he’s a knockout.” “He’s a knockout, fine. What’s your point?” Wes’s sharp tone revealed an uncharacteristic hint of exasperation. “My point is that the gorgeous guy who moved in downstairs took me to dinner and what happened?” Lori’s sandaled foot tapped in a rapid staccato beat. “We went out to dinner, we ran into you and that was the immediate end of all my lovely fantasies about Latin romance. One look at the divine Dr. Iversen and Ben didn’t even see any other woman on the planet. So go away, you can’t have Eric.” Lori had been thinking about Ben’s remarks all day and had decided she did owe it to herself to give Eric another chance. Wes’ lovely features softened. “If he’s right for you, Lori, he won’t pay any attention to me,” she told her friend. “I just don’t want to see you get mixed up with another loser.”

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“Eric is nothing like Warren,” Lori insisted. The foot was still tapping and her fingers fidgeted nervously with the hem of her broomstick-pleated skirt. It was one of her favorites and she’d worn it today in an attempt to cheer herself up. Greens, aquas and purples ran together in a watercolor, sea-toned print. “Yeah,” Wesley acknowledged. “I believe you. But did you go too far the other way? Lori, I know you don’t believe this but you’re so pretty, as well as being smart and funny. You deserve a great guy, one who appreciates you.” Lori smiled mistily at her friend. “Thanks for the morale boost, Wes. You’re a good friend.” She narrowed her eyes but grinned. “But I still want this encounter with Eric to be alone.” She sighed deeply. “Ben talked me into calling him, but I still don’t know how it’s going to go. I really don’t think we need an audience at this stage. I promise, if anything develops, you’ll get to meet him.” The other woman nodded in reluctant understanding and uncoiled her long sleek body from the lab table. “Oh all right, but call me later to tell me how it went.” “Deal,” Lori agreed, nodding crisply. “Now get!” As soon as Wesley left, Lori grabbed a small mirror out of her desk to check her hair and makeup. A brush from the same drawer hastily smoothed her hair and Lori adjusted the tiny dragonfly clip that held back one slippery strand while the rest hung down around her shoulders. She normally wore little makeup, so all she had to touch up was a quick coat of sheer lip-gloss and she was as ready to face Eric as she was going to get. Huge butterflies gamboled about in her stomach and she wished he’d hurry up and get there, so that this anxiety would be over, one way or another. Less than five minutes later, Lori’s stomach lurched as she heard the knock. Wes had shut the door on her way out, so Lori actually got up to let Eric in. Her first look at him, when she opened the door, left her words of welcome hanging, unspoken, on the back of her tongue. He wasn’t gorgeous, not like Ben, or even Warren, but there was something about him that was so elementally male that he made her heart flutter. “Hi, Lori,” he offered cautiously. “Can I come in?” “Sure.” She stepped aside and he moved in past her as she continued her observations. Eric had worn a lightweight denim jacket this time. It was supple and faded from frequent washings and Lori’s fingers just itched to see how soft it was. He still needed a haircut, as his sandy locks were curling against the collar of his gold and purple rugby shirt. There was the very beginning of a hole on the left knee of his snugfitting jeans and it occurred to Lori that the dress code for faculty in his department must be a lot more relaxed than in hers. “Hey, Q, how’s it going?” Eric tapped on the glass of the iguana’s cage softly. Lori grinned. He was talking to her lizard. What a guy! Eric moved over to the computer. “This the machine with the problem?” Lori nodded. “I was retrieving data from my files and suddenly my whole system froze up for like twenty minutes. I rebooted it, but it still wouldn’t start. Finally, it did, but my data files were simply gone.” 46

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“Don’t you have a backup copy on disc?” he asked incredulously, seating himself at Lori’s desk and rapidly tapping keys on the beleaguered machine. “Or a flash drive?” Lori flushed. “Somewhere, I think. Maybe at home.” Eric grinned and shook his head. “Amateurs. Always keep a backup copy. Two is better for critical stuff.” He typed for a while then asked for her file names, which she gave him. “Did you make any changes?” he asked after several minutes. “Any reason you’d have altered your data file while you had it open?” Lori thought for a minute. “I renamed one of the columns,” she told him. “Maybe ten minutes before it locked up.” Eric grinned evilly. “I might be able to retrieve the old version,” he suggested. “If there’s a time-save stored somewhere, you might be in luck.” He spent another fifteen or twenty minutes doing arcane things to Lori’s computer, while she watched in silent admiration. “Hah!” he cried finally. “Got you, you sneaky bastard,” he thumped another key. “Take that!” Lori cried out delightedly as her data file obediently popped up on the monitor screen. “You did it!” Without thinking, she jumped out of her chair and threw her arms around Eric’s neck from behind. “Oh Eric, thank you so much!” Then she plopped a big, sloppy kiss on his right cheek.

***** Eric felt himself flush when Lori’s lips planted themselves on his cheek. He hoped he was reading more than gratitude in the gesture, but he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity either way. While one arm snaked out and wrapped itself firmly around her waist, his other hand rummaged through the backpack he’d set on the floor by his feet. Damn, but she felt every bit as good as he’d remembered. Her soft, silky hair teased his ear and jawline. Trying to keep his mind on the task at hand, he withdrew two brand-new re-writable CDs from his bag. “Backup,” he said determinedly, slipping the first disk into her CPU. He copied the file, then repeated the action with the other disk, still holding her close to his side. When he was done with the second, he scribbled “lizard data” onto each one with a permanent marker, then dropped one into the top drawer of her desk. He handed her the other. “Keep this one at home,” he told her sternly. She nodded back solemnly and slipped out of his grasp to tuck the disk safely into her beige canvas briefcase. Then she unleashed her megawatt smile on him and he felt his brain turn to mush as the blood drained out of it to harden other parts of his anatomy.

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“Scout’s honor,” she promised, flashing what he figured was a genuine Girl Scout salute. “I promise to faithfully maintain backup copies of all of my important files, in case I ever get hit by nasty viruses again.” “Or your hardware breaks down,” Eric reminded her. “Or you, or somebody else accidentally does something stupid. There’s a lot of ways to lose a file.” “And if somebody can do something stupid,” she mused cheerfully, “odds are, it’s going to be me.” Her grin was self-deprecating, which Eric found cute, but at the same time mildly annoying. He didn’t want anybody putting Lori down, even the lady herself. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up. It happens to all of us sooner or later,” he said gruffly. “I’m just glad we got it back.” Lori’s response was obviously heartfelt. “Me too. I can’t thank you enough.” “No problem,” he replied. “All part of the job.” She tilted her head quizzically and he watched the play of her dark hair sliding along her bluish-green three-quarter-length-sleeved sweater. The delicate knit fabric clung deliciously to her womanly curves. “I thought you were a professor,” she told him. “Half-time teaching appointment,” he explained. “Half-time systems admin.” Lori’s eyes widened. “No wonder you’re so good.” He waggled his eyebrows comically. “That’s what all my ladies tell me.” Then he wished he could bury himself alive for making such a stupid comment. Lori apparently took it for the joke it was, thank God. “I’ll bet they do, Dr. Gordon.” Then she cast her eyes back down to her hands. Short, stubby fingernails held only a trace of the pink polish she’d applied for their date Saturday night. Had she been chewing on them? “I’d like to make you dinner, as a thank-you,” she offered shyly. Eric had to strain to hear her. “Sure,” he answered swiftly, not about to miss the chance to get her alone in her apartment. “That would be great.” At Lori’s gesture, he booted down her computer while she quickly refilled Q’s water bowl and gave the iguana fresh greens and chopped vegetables from her small refrigerator. “I’ve got my car today,” he told her. “I had some errands to run earlier, so I drove to campus this morning. I’ll follow you to your place.” “Okay,” she agreed readily, hefting her briefcase. “Is pasta all right?” He grinned, boyishly he hoped. “As long as there’s lots.” Lori giggled and the happy sound was like music to Eric’s ears. “I remember. Don’t worry. I’m not a great cook, but I can manage lots.” To Eric’s delight, she let him hold her hand as he walked her to her car, ignoring curious looks from students and

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colleagues alike. That had to be a sign that she wanted to pursue their relationship. Didn’t it? Lori had not been lying when she told Eric that she wasn’t much of a cook. Thank God he didn’t mind pasta, because boiling the rotini and heating a jar of sauce were pretty close to the limit of her “company” repertoire. Fortunately, she had stocked up on groceries recently and there were reasonably fresh salad vegetables in the fridge and a loaf of good French bread on the counter. “I think there’s a bottle of wine in that cupboard over the fridge,” she told Eric. “Would you mind getting it down?” Her nerves were on edge. He seemed to fill her tiny little kitchen. Eric got out her one and only bottle of red wine and dusted it off while Lori dumped the entire pound of tri-colored pasta into the boiling water, then rooted for a jar of sauce. Once she had that slowly warming in a pan, she handed Eric the corkscrew while she retrieved two green-stemmed Mexican wineglasses from a high shelf, using the small stepstool that she kept in the kitchen. Eric shook his head and grinned. “You could have asked,” he noted. Lori realized that the shelf in question was easily within reach of Eric’s long arms. She shrugged. “Habit. You tall people are handy to have around, but the rest of us learn to make do.” He snagged the glasses out of her hands and poured them full of the rich ruby Merlot. “Here, you look like you could use this.” Lori rolled her eyeballs. Why did it seem like he could see right through her? “I’m not used to cooking for company,” she told him. It was true, even if it wasn’t the reason for her nervousness. “Relax,” he suggested. “You’ve seen me eat. I’m not exactly picky.” Lori smiled. “Warren hated my cooking,” she told him, unexpectedly. Sometimes she wished that her brain knew how to censor what popped out of her mouth. She had certainly not planned to bring Warren into the conversation—at least not yet. “He thought I should take classes so I wouldn’t embarrass him when we entertained.” “We’ve already established that Warren was an idiot,” he reminded her gently. “I could see that the minute I met the man.” Lori grabbed a couple of plates, mostly to have something to do with her hands. Eric took them away from her and placed them directly across from one another at her round, white-painted table. “Nice dishes,” he told her, examining the hand-painted grapevines that decorated the heavy white stoneware. “They’re antiques,” she responded cautiously. “I found them at a yard sale a few years ago.”

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Eric looked around her small but cheerful kitchen approvingly. “You’ve got nice taste. Your place is small, but it looks really…” he paused, apparently groping for a word. “Homey.” His frank approval took her by surprise. Warren had always hated her bright colors, her mismatched dishes and the eclectic mix of antique and modern furnishings that filled out her living space. “Thanks,” she answered warmly. “I’m glad you like it.” She meant it too. She pointed Eric to the silverware drawer then busied herself tearing up lettuce while he finished setting the table. A few minutes later, they sat at her aged wooden table on chairs that had no more in common than a coat of gleaming white paint and dug in. Eric shoveled his food away with his usual abandon, so Lori quit worrying about the quality of the meal. “Look, Eric,” she said at one point, after fortifying herself with a plate full of pasta and her second glass of wine. “I’m sorry about Sunday. I guess I was still a little shaken up after running into Warren and Marji on Saturday night. If the offer is still open, I’d love to go out with you this weekend.” Eric stopped chewing abruptly and stared at her. His green eyes widened behind his small wire-framed lenses. A big smile split his lean face. He swallowed, choked a little, then reached for his wineglass. A moment later, he finally spoke. “Can’t on Saturday. How about tomorrow?” Lori wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or ecstatic. Confused was winning out. “Tomorrow?” Eric nodded. “Sure. My turn to cook. I grill a mean tuna steak.” Just great. On top of everything else, the man could outcook her. “Okay, I guess,” she replied thoughtfully. “But I’ve got an early class Thursday morning, so I won’t be able to stay late.” While she’d decided that she really did want to see more of Eric, she remembered how quickly the passion had flamed between them on their two previous encounters. She thought she wanted to explore the possibilities of a relationship, but she wasn’t ready to leap in with both feet just yet. Time to change the subject. “So do you think my computer problem was caused by the WYRM virus?” she asked, forking up another mouthful of pasta. Eric nodded, his mouth full. Lori pursed her lips. “That’s kind of odd, isn’t it? I mean, my department has had almost no trouble with the virus at all, but just a few days after I help you look for lizards, my computer gets hit. Do you think it’s just a coincidence?” Eric paused between bites. “I don’t see what else it could be. I mean, how would anyone even know you were helping me? The only person I told about you helping me is Dave, my officemate, and he’s certainly not the hacker we’re looking for. If Dave had decided to hack for money, the first we’d hear about it is when he sent me a postcard from Rio. The WYRM hacker is good, but not in Dave’s class.” He took another bite, chewed thoughtfully. “Did you tell anybody?”

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Lori nibbled on her lower lip. “Just my downstairs neighbor Ben. He’s a grad student in the English department, so I don’t see any kind of tie-in there. I sent the scale pattern to my herps professor at Michigan State, but he didn’t recognize it.” She paused and finished her last bite of bread. “Oh and Wesley Iversen. She’s the one running the DNA tests.” “We can probably rule her out then,” Eric agreed. “She’d hardly volunteer to run the tests if she was in league with the hacker.” “So it was probably just a random hit,” Lori concluded, relieved. Eric’s gaze was troubled. “I don’t like it though,” he murmured. “Coincidences bug me.” Lori regarded him thoughtfully. “Yeah. Me too.”

***** After dinner, they took another bottle of wine, this time Lori’s favorite white zinfandel, into the living room, in lieu of dessert. Eric considered the idea of getting her drunk and seducing her, but he decided that when he did make love to Lori Tremain, she was going to be both sober enough to consent with her full faculties and also to remember every sizzling moment. Eric had no doubt now that it was going to happen, he just wasn’t quite sure when. She’d made it clear that she wanted to take things slowly, so he’d already decided that tonight they were both going to keep their clothes on. Lori sat curled up in a tan-and-green rattan chair, with an ivy-print cushion. She looked so perfect sitting there with her legs tucked up under her, he thought. Her cute little bare toes were sticking out from under the hem of her long, gauzy skirt. She’d kicked off her sandals right after dinner. Eric lounged comfortably on a big fluffy sofa, covered with a green-and-white striped twill slipcover and tossed with a bunch of brightly colored throw pillows. “So how’d you hook up with the suit from the business department anyway?” he asked bluntly. “Frankly he doesn’t seem at all your type.” He gestured around him at her eclectic apartment. “I mean, he doesn’t seem like the type to mix Monet and M. C. Escher.” Those were only two of the several artists represented in framed prints on Lori’s walls, but they served to illustrate the general disparity. Personally, Eric thought that both the brightly colored impressionist floral scene and the red-and-yellow lizard design of the Escher print blended perfectly with the warmly chaotic decor. Lori colored prettily. “I think Warren mistook my lack of polished, professional style, in his words, for a lack of seriousness about my career. He liked the idea of passing scientist genes on to his offspring, but not the idea of having a wife who was an actual working scientist. When we got around to the point of discussing long-range plans and children, he made it clear that I was expected to give up my teaching and research in favor of carpools and country-club luncheons.” 51

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“Asshole,” Eric noted simply, honestly. “After all the years you worked to get your doctorate, you’d have to plan on using it for more than bragging rights at dinner parties.” Lori’s brilliant, misty-eyed smile hit him like a kick in the gut. “Thank you. That’s exactly what I told him. After I got my tenure, I’d consider having kids, but even then I didn’t want to stay home, not for too long. Heck, the university’s day care center is in the building right next to mine, for goodness’ sake. I know tons of faculty whose kids are in that program.” She twirled her glass, seeming to study the blush pink liquid intently. “The real issue, of course, wasn’t just kids. What Warren really wants is a wife who will completely subjugate her ambitions to his. He hated the idea of me working for tenure, because it requires a significant commitment of time and effort. He kept saying it wasn’t important and that we should work together to focus on his advancement.” Eric snorted. “Sounds like you were smart to get out when you did. So why did seeing him with the bimbo bother you so much?” A wry grin ghosted across Lori’s heart-shaped face. “Insecurity, I guess,” she confessed. “He was always riding me to dress better, behave more properly, get to know the right people. When I saw him watching me, it made me feel like I couldn’t measure up. That’s his favorite restaurant, you know. It’s the only one in the area that meets his criteria of upscale elegance. It always made me feel like a sparrow at a peacock convention, if you know what I mean.” Eric raised his glass to her in a mocking salute. “Yeah, I do. Here’s to all us sparrows.” He drank deeply then set his glass down on the old steamer trunk that Lori used as a coffee table. “Sorry about the restaurant. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t like the place very much either. I only took you there because I was trying to impress you.” He laughed ruefully. “Way to go, Gordon.” She laughed with him. “The other problem is that anytime I screw up in the great one’s presence, Marji reports it back to my department chair, who adores her. This close to tenure, I can’t afford to piss him off.” Eric agreed. He remembered that stressed-out feeling only too clearly and he’d known all along that the department couldn’t afford to lose him. He pondered, not for the first time, on the strangeness of academia’s system of employment. After a few years in a position, your colleagues got to decide your fate. Either the job was yours forever, if tenure was granted, or, if you didn’t measure up, you were expected to leave by the end of the year and never darken the hallowed halls of their department again. There was no in-between. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’ve won a bunch of awards, haven’t you?” He’d successfully distracted her from the subject of Warren Chamberlain and for a while they simply discussed teaching and students like any two instructors in different fields. Eric was glad that they were through discussing Lori’s ex-fiancé. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to punch the man out or just blank the sucker’s hard drive

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for hurting Lori and for making her so wary of relationships in general. He’d obviously done a number on her self-confidence. Too restless to sit still, he got up and wandered around the room, commenting on a few of her oddball objets d’art and listening to the stories she had to go with each of them. The marble Buddha was from a friend who’d lived in China, the handmade pottery was from a phase she’d gone through herself as an undergraduate and the delicate Wedgwood vase was a family heirloom. There were photographs scattered about too and he admired each of her five nieces and nephews and noted the names and faces of their parents and grandparents. “I suppose they’d seem like a circus to someone who wasn’t used to a big family,” Lori noted fondly. “Lord knows they can be overpowering when they gang up on you, but I wouldn’t trade them for the world.” She’d joined him beside the bookshelf that held a number of the photographs, as well as a jumble of textbooks and lurid fiction. It seemed utterly natural for Eric to wrap one arm about her waist and draw her closer. Lori must have agreed because she snuggled up to him, resting her head on his chest. “Have you ever been married?” she asked softly. Eric shook his head and led her back to the sofa, where he drew her down beside him. Lori tucked her feet up under her skirt again and leaned comfortably against his chest. “Ever been close?” Eric tipped his head back and forth to indicate uncertainty. “Sort of, I guess. We were both in grad school. Jenny was studying French poetry and she was very into the idea of a freewheeling Bohemian lifestyle. We lived together for a couple of semesters, until we both graduated. Then we got job offers in different parts of the country. When we sat down to discuss our options, we realized that we both felt far more interested in our careers than in the idea of sticking together. She went her way, I went mine and we exchanged Christmas cards for maybe the next two years, then even that faded away. No tears on either side, just a peaceful good-bye.” Lori looked up at him, a hint of tears misting in her coffee-colored eyes. “That’s so sweet,” she said softly. “And kind of sad.” Eric grinned. “We were too young,” he assured her. “Neither of us was ready for the real thing.” He didn’t know if he was ready even now, but he was very afraid that Lori was going to make him think about the possibility. She squirmed beside him and the arousal he’d managed to keep at half-mast all evening unfurled completely. She was feeling it too, he thought, gazing down into her face. Her eyes had darkened to almost black and a rosy flush spread across her cheekbones. She peered back at him, breathing rapidly, her full lower lip caught sexily between her front teeth. Eric shifted so his arms could encircle her. When she didn’t hesitate, but instead twined her own arms about his neck, he very slowly lowered his head to hers. He barely heard the tiny catch in her breathing as their lips met.

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Her soft, pliant mouth opened generously and Eric plunged inside hungrily. He wasn’t sure if the soft moan he heard was hers or his own. She shifted to face him fully, coming up onto her knees on the sofa and molding her body tightly to his. God, she felt good. She tasted even better. Her hands had apparently wormed their way up inside his shirt somehow. He wasn’t sure exactly when. Her soft sweater was no barrier at all. He marveled at the play of textures as his hands slipped between the fluffy cotton and the even silkier skin at her waist. Without conscious thought, Eric fell back against the rolled upholstered arm of the sofa, pulling Lori down to lie on top of him. When her thigh settled over the bulge in his jeans, Eric groaned huskily at the pain and pleasure of the position. Lori dropped a series of soft, nipping kisses along his throat and jawline, while Eric concentrated on getting a hand up under her skirt. Damn, there were layers there, he noticed as his hand tangled in gossamer fabric. She must be wearing a petticoat of some sort underneath. Meanwhile, Lori’s busy fingers had pushed his rugby shirt up under his armpits and she was wrestling with him to get the garment off his shoulders. As his hands finally found the soft skin of Lori’s thigh, his lips found the tender hollow at where the side of her throat met her shoulder and he sucked gently, pausing briefly to allow her to tug the shirt off over his head. The cool evening air on his sweat-coated skin broke Eric’s concentration, just for a moment. His hands had already found their way back under Lori’s skirt and were each cupping one rounded buttock and squeezing gently. Lori was twisting lightly, her center rubbing hungrily against his straining erection. It took every ounce of control he possessed to pull his hands back up out of her clothing and cup her chin. She stared at him, eyes glazed with desire. When she spoke, her voice was nothing more than a breathy whisper. “What’s wrong?” Eric smiled tenderly, stroking her flushed cheek with his thumb. “Not a damn thing, in my book. But I got the impression earlier that you wanted to take this a little more slowly.” Lori closed her eyes as though she was in pain and Eric’s gut twisted. “If we don’t stop right now,” he continued. “I’ll have to swing by my place in the morning for a clean shirt.” Lori let go of her death grip on Eric and slowly sat up, tugging her sweater and skirt into place, more or less, as she went. She heaved a deep sigh. “We should stop,” she said so quietly that he could barely hear. “I don’t want to, mind you, but some rational part of me thinks we should.” Eric smiled in his usual lopsided manner. “That’s what I thought,” he told her, taking one hand in his and squeezing lightly. “It’s okay, you know. We’re both mature enough to survive a little frustration.” As if to illustrate this point, he shifted, easing the pressure in his jeans. “I’m sorry,” she offered, her eyes downcast. “I didn’t mean to tease.”

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Eric stood, dropping a swift but passionate kiss on Lori’s lips. “I know. I didn’t either. Things between us seem to have a way of getting out of control before either of us knows it.” He pulled his shirt back on, failing to notice that it was inside out. She nodded miserably and he pulled her to her feet beside him. “It’s all right,” he reiterated. “That’s a good thing. Just think about how incredible it’s going to be when the time is actually right.” He adjusted his glasses, which had been hanging crookedly, as he walked toward the door. “Now give me a chaste little goodnight kiss, then lock the door behind me. I’ll meet you at your office tomorrow at five. Okay?” He turned and put both hands on her shoulders, keeping her at arms’ length. She smiled tentatively up at him. “Okay. But maybe we ought to go out to eat tomorrow. It might be safer.” Her tiny giggle drew a full-fledged laugh from Eric. “Damn, you’re terrific,” he told her, enjoying her surprised look in her eyes at the heartfelt compliment. He leaned over and planted a very light kiss on her flushed and swollen lips. “Good night, Lori.” “Good night, Eric.” Luminous brown eyes followed him down the steps and into his bright yellow car, which shone vividly beneath a streetlamp. He didn’t hear the final whispered, “Good night,” as he drove off down the lamp-lit street, humming to himself in the darkness.

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Chapter Six It was destined to be another sleepless night, with his body once again at the mercy of his frustrated hormones. That had happened a lot since he’d met Lori just a few days earlier. Eric couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman with the same instant intensity that he felt for Lori Tremain. It wasn’t just physical either. The way he wanted to be with her, laugh with her, protect her scared the hell out of him. He was screwing around on-line, trying to decide whether or not he should send Lori flowers, when the little mail icon popped up on the corner of his screen. He clicked yes on the bunch of daffodils he’d been debating over, roses just seemed too clichéd, like something her ex would have sent. Then he surfed back to his in-box, wondering which of his lunatic friends or students was emailing him at one o’clock in the morning. The message he received caused conflicting reactions. First the implied threat made his blood run cold. Then anger heated it right back up again. You cannot stop destiny, the glory of the WYRM will remain forever beyond your grasp. Cease your interference, or become nothing but WYRM food. Damn it, if the hacker knew about Eric’s investigation, then that meant that the virus’s attack on Lori’s computer had not been an accident. Eric recorded the message. Sending electronic death threats, which, after all, was what the term “worm food” usually meant, was a Federal offense. He was meticulously documenting all the evidence he’d accumulated against his opponent. He hadn’t gone to the Feds with this yet, at the request of the interim president, but he’d be singing to the authorities in a heartbeat if he thought that Lori’s safety was on the line. While he tried to track the origin of the email, another incoming message arrived. He finished up what he was doing quickly, prepared to deal with another threat. This message, however, just confused him. Your search puts you in danger, but uncovering the villain is more important than you know. His purpose is deeper and more evil than you can possibly fathom. The message you recently received originated from a computer lab in the Arts and Languages complex of your campus. The signature attached to the message was simply “Drake”. Eric sent an immediate reply to Drake, then swiftly accessed the university network and ascertained that there was no authorized user with that name on the system. It was odd. There were no authorization documents on record, yet sure enough, there was an account listed, with absolutely no information on the user. Clearly, someone had hacked an illegal account, much like the one used by the WYRM originator. Eric sent another email. Who are you? What is your interest in the virus?

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Moments later, a reply was received. You may call me Drake. I am a friend who wishes to see this perpetrator stopped. That is all you need to know. While Eric pondered this new development, Drake sent an instant message, politely requesting the pleasure of playing against Eric in a game of on-line chess. Deciding that a longer period of contact might well provide further information, Eric agreed. Meanwhile, he configured his utility software to try to locate the origin of Drake’s messages. The game turned out to be surprisingly interesting. In fact, after the first several moves, Eric nearly forgot about the whole WYRM problem as he got caught up in the mental challenge. Drake, whoever he was, was a crafty and daring opponent. Toward the end of the second game, however, Eric’s attention was diverted when a message popped up on his oversized computer screen from his utility software, announcing the physical location of his opponent. Drake was apparently operating from the janitor’s closet in the subbasement of Harrison Hall—the origin site of the WYRM virus. Damn, this just kept getting more and more complicated! Between games, Eric fired off a message. Are you the creator of the WYRM? His mind boggled when he read the reply. Yes, I originated the information retrieval portion of the virus. I am not, however, the thief you seek. Someone else has corrupted the WYRM and is the current user. Find him. The chess match ended somewhere between three and four a.m. with one win apiece and one stalemate. Drake thanked Eric politely for providing him with such a challenging match. I look forward to facing you again, Dr. Gordon. Search carefully. I will provide you with any relevant information that comes my way. Good night. Eric sat dumbstruck, staring at the message on the softly glowing screen. What the hell was he supposed to do next? That thought was still bugging him as he finally fell into a brief, troubled slumber.

***** Lori yawned widely as she slid into a seat next to Wesley at the biology department staff meeting Wednesday morning. She wasn’t late—quite. Dr. Vandecar cast her a quick look of reprimand as she sat down only seconds before he called the meeting to order. Lori just smiled back sweetly and took another swig of Dr. Pepper. This was one of those mornings when she wished she could stand the taste of coffee. It was her firm belief that non-coffee drinkers were gravely handicapped in the American workplace. She tuned out Vandecar’s annoying drone as she guzzled her ever-present bottle of diet soda, the only form of caffeine her taste buds could tolerate, and replied to Wesley’s sharp whisper. “I’m sorry, I forgot to call.” “Did he spend the night? You look like you didn’t get any sleep.” Lori flushed. “No!” she whispered fiercely. “He went home after dinner.” At Wesley’s reproving expression, she added archly, “But I’m seeing him again tonight.” 57

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Wes beamed. “Way to go, Lori!” “Drs. Iversen and Tremain, perhaps you have information you’d like to share with the rest of the department?” their boss asked pointedly. Wes smiled wickedly, and Lori flushed, shaking her head guiltily. “Then organizing the picnic won’t be a problem, Lori?” Vandecar asked pointedly. Great. While they’d been whispering about boys like a couple of fifteen-year-olds she had apparently been tapped to put together the department’s annual end-of-theschool-year gathering. It was a typical pre-tenure assignment and one she’d more or less expected, so Lori didn’t even flinch. “No, that will be fine,” she replied calmly. “Wesley was just reminding me of the difficulties we had with last year’s site. Would anyone have a problem with moving the picnic to the state park this year?” Thank God she’d been thinking ahead, having prepared this idea just in case she’d been stuck with the assignment. Last year they had held the picnic at a small city park and ended up having to share the single tiny pavilion with a large and noisy family reunion. An affirmative buzz filled the room. Vandecar nodded in reluctant approbation. After gauging the reaction from the others, he tipped his head at Lori once again. “That sounds like a good idea. See what you can do.” Then the meeting moved onto other topics, much to Lori’s relief. Back in her office, Lori filled Wesley in on all the details of her dinner with Eric, although she glided over the passionate kisses they’d shared just before he left. “I still want to meet him,” Wesley reminded her, tossing her golden curls. “Too bad I have to leave early tonight, or I’d just happen to stop by around five.” Lori laughed. “My lucky day. All that and a picnic to coordinate too. You, by the way, are hereby designated as the food committee. I don’t have time for all of this.” Wes nodded. “No problem. The caterers from last year were fine and they know me. I’ll set it up in your name.” Lori’s thanks were heartfelt, but she’d become so lost in thought that she barely noticed Wesley’s departure. The food would be taken care of, that was a relief. Now all she had to do was reserve the site and arrange for entertainment. Not that that was an easy task, by any means. There would have to be games for the children and she’d need to provide both the equipment and a bunch of prizes. Then there would have to be gag prizes for the annual talent show, where each member of the department’s faculty and staff was expected to perform some sort of skit or musical number. Lori figured that Richard Vandecar would be delighted to be asked to officiate. She’d stroke his ego and delegate the responsibility. She pondered briefly. There was a retiring faculty member to be honored. After he was presented with his plaque and gift, he could serve with Marji and Mrs. Vandecar as talent show judges. Finally, Lori would have to arrange for music and dancing later in the evening. That meant hiring a band or disc jockey willing to work out-of-doors. Yuck. Best of all, she’d have to go through Marji for any cash or purchase orders she needed to make the arrangements. Damn, what a hassle.

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“Dr. Tremain?” a hesitant voice called from her open doorway. Lori smiled and motioned one of her undergraduate animal behavior students in the door. Jackie was a plump, bookish senior who reminded Lori a great deal of herself at that age. “Wow, you look really nice today,” the younger woman told her. “I’d never have the guts to wear orange.” Lori had worn a favorite outfit that day in honor of her dinner at Eric’s place. A vivid orange silk blouse brushed softly against her skin and she wore a cream linen skirt that came to just above her knees. As usual, weather permitting, she’d eschewed stockings, but her feet, this time, were encased in matching orange leather pumps. The shoes had been an extravagance, since they only really went with one or two outfits, but they always managed to give her confidence a boost when she wore them. “You should wear whatever makes you feel good,” Lori advised the student, shrugging off the idea of bowing to the dictates of fashion. “Orange makes me smile, so I wear it. I don’t care if other people think it’s appropriate, or think I look like a pumpkin.” She really didn’t, she realized. Somewhere along the way, she’d grown beyond the need for approval and learned to trust in herself. All of Warren’s diatribes on her wardrobe meant nothing at all to her now. She had her own sense of style and it worked for her. She vowed silently to never let a man undermine her self-confidence again. Cheerfully now, she answered Jackie’s questions about her upcoming senior project and reassured the insecure girl that her work would undoubtedly be excellent. A glance at the clock told her that it was time to get ready for class, so Lori pushed all thoughts of picnics and dinner dates out of her mind and started concentrating on introductory zoology.

***** Eric slumped in his leather computer chair and picked absently at the hole in the knee of his faded gray sweatpants. Another long, frustrated night loomed ahead. Last night had been the same, Eric mused. His dinner with Lori had gone perfectly, he thought with justifiable pride. The tuna steaks had been grilled to perfection, the Chardonnay had been crisply chilled and his side dish of vegetable kabobs over delicately steamed rice had made Lori moan with delight. She’d moaned again when they’d kissed good night. Eric could hardly believe that he’d managed to keep his hands to himself the entire evening, even though that silky orange blouse she’d worn had practically begged to be unbuttoned and she’d kicked off her shoes to reveal that once again, her luscious legs were bare beneath the snug linen skirt. Still, despite all the provocation, Eric had remained a gentleman and he hadn’t laid a hand on her. Instead, they’d talked. For hours. They’d discussed movies and books and music—all those things that people are supposed to know about each other in a real relationship. Then she’d left, after only a single, searing, good-night kiss at Eric’s front door.

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Then today, Thursday, they’d met for lunch. They sat on the grass beside the small pond behind the library, eating lousy sandwiches from the cafeteria. This time, they’d talked mostly about Eric’s progress with the WYRM. He’d mentioned his messages from Drake, but he hadn’t told her about the threatening email. Instead, he’d simply warned her to be careful and asked her when he could see her again. To his disappointment, she’d had dinner plans for this evening, some girl thing with her friend Wesley. Unable to resist, though, Eric had called Lori after dinner, ostensibly to make sure she’d gotten home safely. Just one short phone call had left him hard and aching. The strength of this wanting he felt for Lori amazed him—and scared him a little too. He’d never felt an attraction quite this powerful before and he wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. His discomfort grew as he remembered how she had felt beneath his questing hands the other night. She was so soft, so lush and he just couldn’t seem to get her sweet, feminine fragrance out of his head. He’d frankly tried to solve the problem manually, so to speak, but five minutes later, he was hard again and still wanting Lori—no substitutes. He was really going to have to do something soon, he realized grimly, to push this relationship forward, or he was likely to explode. Eric’s computer gave a small musical ping, announcing that a message from Drake had just arrived, which successfully distracted Eric from his fixation on Lori’s anatomy—almost. They played chess again and this time Eric’s mystery opponent managed to beat him two games out of three. Eric rationalized it away, correctly attributing most of his lack of concentration to his current state of acute physical frustration. Drake was as polite in victory, however, as he had been when they tied and Eric gladly agreed to a rematch in the unspecified future. Before he logged off, though, Drake left Eric with a faintly disturbing message. Weren’t you planning to check the steam tunnels? Do so carefully and you might find it illuminating. Now what the hell did that mean?

***** Lori tossed and turned, punching her pillow ruthlessly as she tried to find a comfortable position. She hadn’t slept well in days. Not since she’d meet Eric Gordon, to be exact. Her response to Eric both confused and terrified her. Lori had never considered herself a particularly sensual person. She’s enjoyed sex on occasion, it was pleasant enough, but the bulk of her experience had been with Warren and that had never been particularly gratifying. She’d always assumed, though, that the fault lay with her. Certainly, she’d never responded to Warren, or anybody else, the way she did to Eric. One kiss, one touch and her entire body went up in flames. Lord, what would it be like when they finally went all the way? The ringing phone startled Lori. Who would be calling her at two a.m.? Was something wrong with one of her family? She picked up the phone in near panic. “Hello?”

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There was nothing but static at first, then a creepy, distorted voice whispered in her ear. “Keep your nose in your own business, bitch, and you won’t get hurt.” “What?” Lori shrieked, but a sharp click indicated that the caller had hung up. She shivered and switched on the bedside lamp for comfort. She told herself that it was probably just a random crank call, but she had a hard time believing it. It was several hours later when she finally fell asleep and the small lamp beside the bed was still burning when her alarm went off the following morning.

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Chapter Seven Lori rubbed her eyes and fought back a yawn. She crossed her arms on the round table in front of her and leaned her chin on her hands. “Good grief, girlfriend, if you’re going to be awake all night anyway, you should at least be having some fun. Why don’t you put yourself out of your misery and just sleep with the man?” Wesley Iversen breezed into Lori’s office in a cloud of lavender gauze. “Wes, you are something else!” Lori laughed at her friend. “If you didn’t have that DNA analysis with you, I’d just have to kick your butt out that third-story window over there.” Since the window in Lori’s office was only about six inches wide, they both understood the futility of the threat and grinned weakly at each other in understanding. Unfortunately, to Lori’s way of thinking, Wes refused to be diverted. “You’ve been seeing him every night this week and you’re exhausted every morning. There’s only two reasons for that and frankly, one’s a whole lot more fun than the other,” the blonde pointed out with simple logic. She glared at Lori then threw up her red-tipped hands in disgust. “Look, I’m not telling you to marry the man, just have sex with him.” Lori shook her head, playing idly with a broken mechanical pencil. It hadn’t been broken, she realized dejectedly, until she’d started fidgeting with it early in this conversation. She flung it violently into the metal wastebasket, wincing at the loud clang. “It doesn’t work like that for me, Wes. I’m sorry. Unlike you, I want the relationship part first and the physical part second.” She sighed, running a hand through her long dark hair, which dislodged the pair of mock tortoiseshell clips that had been holding the unmanageable stuff away from her fatigue-ravaged face. “Look, I know my track record with relationships isn’t perfect, but I simply can’t buy into the whole casual fling concept. It just isn’t me.” “It’s a whole lot easier,” Wes countered gruffly, reaching over to rescue the dangling clips, then setting them carefully aside on the table between them. “Relationships, with a capital R, just mess up your brain.” “Don’t you ever think about finding somebody to love?” Lori asked curiously, feeling more than a little sorry for Wesley. The older woman’s traumatic childhood had left her disillusioned about love and marriage at too early an age in Lori’s opinion, and the scars still showed in Wesley’s utter determination to avoid commitment. “I have no intention of ever giving another human being that kind of power over my body or soul,” Wes declared flatly. “I learned a long time ago that happily ever after is just for fairy tales.” Lori understood. Wesley’s story was tragic, a world apart from Lori’s own happy suburban upbringing. As a little girl, Wesley had witnessed her father’s horrific abuse 62

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of her mother, then, as she grew older, endured it herself. That torture had ended only when Wes had run away from home at the age of fourteen. Compared to other runaways, though, Wesley had been one of the lucky ones. After only a few months on the street, Wes had been found by a tough-minded, middle-aged schoolteacher who’d lost both her husband and only child several years earlier. Longing for family, the woman had taken the brilliant teenager under her wing, put her back into school and seen to it that she went to college. After an experience that would have destroyed a weaker personality, Wesley had gone on to work her way through Northwestern and then Cornell, getting her Ph.D. at the tender age of twenty-three. Lori knew that Wes still sent a good portion of her paycheck back to her “aunt” Alberta in Chicago. “So how was your date last night with Dr. Daniels?” Lori asked, changing the subject out of compassion for her friend. Wesley waggled her fingers. “So-so. Dentistry is so-oo boring, don’t you think? That and golf seem to be his only two topics of conversation. I think it’s time to move on. Brad Peters from Chemistry asked me to the concert tonight.” She grinned lasciviously. “If he’s nice, he just might get lucky.” The Detroit Symphony was performing that night on campus. Lori would have liked to go, but she hadn’t bothered to get tickets. Besides, if there was a chance that she could be with Eric, even the symphony sounded unappealing. She smiled enigmatically. “Really? I was just thinking the same thing about a certain CPS professor.” Lori had accepted the inevitable. She was going to have sex with Eric and soon. Originally, she’d hoped to wait until after her doctor’s appointment, which was scheduled for a couple of weeks later. She’d stopped taking birth-control pills when her prescription had expired several months earlier, after her break-up with Warren. After the last day or two, though, she’d come to the realization that her resolve wasn’t going to last another two weeks. They’d just have to be careful. There was a small pack of condoms stashed in Lori’s wallet. Wes let out a war whoop. “It’s about time. Where’s he taking you?” Lori shrugged, a perplexed look causing a tiny crease to form between her dark arched eyebrows. “I don’t know. A picnic, maybe. He just told me he’d pick me up at noon and to wear jeans.” Since students generally refused to take Friday afternoon classes, there were virtually none scheduled on campus. Therefore, Lori was actually free for the rest of the weekend. Lori had worn denims, as Eric had requested, but underneath the rugged fabric she wore her very favorite shocking pink lace undies. The matching push-up bra did nice things to her shape under her snug purple knit top, if she did say so herself. Wes looked pointedly at the clock. “Five minutes, then.” Lori fussed with her hair, smoothing back a stray lock that had fallen down across one cheekbone. “You could just give me the results, then leave,” she reminded Wesley. “I can explain it to Eric.”

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“I could,” Wes agreed. “But I won’t. This time, I’m actually going to meet your mysterious geek.” “He’s not a geek,” Lori snapped reflexively, to Wes’ obvious amusement. “So you keep saying,” the blonde teased. “I prefer to see for myself.” Eric’s arrival put a stop to their banter. Without knocking he stuck his head into the lab. “Lori?” he called. “Ready to go?” Lori got up from her desk and motioned him inside, nervously wiping her palms on the thighs of her butter-soft denims. “Eric,” she said, almost hesitantly, “I’d like you to meet my friend Wesley Iversen. Wes, this is Eric Gordon.” Eric smiled warmly at Wes, but he didn’t drop his jaw and leer like most men did. “Nice to meet you, Wesley, Lori’s mentioned you a lot. Thanks for running the DNA test for me.” He stuck his hand out in a friendly fashion. Wes grasped Eric’s hand firmly. “I’ve heard a lot about you too,” she returned. “I brought the test results for you this afternoon.” Lori registered acute relief when Eric dropped Wes’ hand immediately after shaking it politely and showed no hint of the usual male response to Wes’ beauty. “What’ve you got?” he asked instead, dropping into one of the chairs that circled the small round table. He reached out one long arm and snagged Lori’s waist, tugging her relentlessly toward him. When she was close enough, he planted a quick kiss on the soft skin of her throat. Wes flashed Eric one of her most genuine grins. Eric didn’t even blink and Lori sighed with happiness and allowed her body to lean more closely against Eric’s warmth. “The DNA profile is quite distinctive,” Wesley was telling Eric as she laid a series of charts and graphs out on the table. An electron micrograph of the actual chromosomes followed. “In fact, it doesn’t match up with any of the common species of lizard, at least as far as I can tell, since my expertise is fish, not reptiles. It’s also not a close relative of the monitors, iguanas, chameleons or any of the boidae.” Lori clarified. “That’s the family that includes all the big, nonvenomous snakes, like boas and pythons.” Eric nodded in comprehension. “The back half of a big snake could resemble a lizard tail, of course. Anything else?” Wes shook her head and her blonde curls tumbled artlessly about slender shoulders. Eric’s gaze never left her eyes and his fingers were still gently rubbing against Lori’s waist. “It’s not crocodilian either,” Lori added. The chromosome number is all wrong for alligators or crocs.” “Right,” Wesley corroborated. “In other words, as far as we can tell from such a small tissue sample and only one week of testing, what we have here is an entirely undocumented species of reptile.”

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***** “I can’t believe this is your idea of a surprise,” Lori hissed at Eric as she brushed cobwebs off her hands onto the seat of her jeans. Eric didn’t bother to respond, he was busy admiring the view. Soft, faded denim stretched seductively over Lori’s generously rounded rear. Unfortunately for him, she noticed where he was aiming the flashlight. “Eric!” He quickly lowered the flashlight’s beam, glad she couldn’t see his grin. “I thought you wanted to explore the tunnels.” Lori gave a sigh that even a dolt like him recognized as trouble. How did women all seem to know the exact frequency of sound most guaranteed to make a man feel like pond scum? “I did,” she huffed. “I just didn’t think that wandering through filthy underground passageways was going to be your big surprise date this afternoon.” After brushing a few more cobwebs out of her long hair, she twisted the silky strands into a loose knot at the back of her head. Eric pondered the physics of the arrangement. How did she get it to stay without any pins? A few moments later, the knot slipped sideways, providing Eric with his answer. It didn’t. Lori brushed it back with an impatient swat and changed the subject on him. “How did you get the keys, anyway?” “You forget who asked me to investigate,” he reminded her. “The keys were easy.” Maybe he’d made a tactical error in bringing Lori down here this afternoon. He’d spent so many years playing Dungeons and Dragons as a kid and even more playing computer adventure games that the idea of actually exploring underground tunnels was like living out a childhood fantasy. Apparently Lori did not feel the same way. She’d probably been expecting something romantic like a walk in the park, or a drive in the country. He’d have to make it up to her, he guessed. Lori’s giggle and a flashlight beam in the eyes brought him out of his thoughts. “You’ve got a spider web hanging off your glasses,” she told him. Revulsion warred with humor in her expression. “Yeah,” he returned less than eloquently. “Well, there’s a spider crawling up your arm.” Lori’s reaction was the last thing he’d have anticipated. Instead of laughing it off, or even examining the little creature, she screamed loudly and dropped her flashlight. Eric covered the distance between them in one long stride. “Get it off me!” she wailed. “I hate spiders!” Eric took her arm and obediently knocked the offending daddy-long-legs onto the floor, where the tiny critter quickly scurried away. Then Eric folded a quivering Lori close to his chest. A few moments later, he felt a chuckle being muffled against his rib cage. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?”

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“What?” he asked in genuine confusion. He couldn’t see Lori’s face in the gloom, but her trembling had stopped, so he eased up on the embrace. “I work with lizards and snakes and all sorts of creepy-crawlies every day. I think bats are adorable. But a single, harmless arachnid completely freaks me out.” She pulled back a little and smoothed her hair, but one of her hands maintained its tight grip on Eric’s waist. He wasn’t complaining. “It’s a total phobia,” she elaborated. “No logical rhyme or reason to it at all. I can control it pretty well when they’re not touching me, but if they take me by surprise, I lose it.” Eric squeezed her closer and kissed her softly on the forehead. “Actually, it’s kind of cute,” he teased and was rewarded by a light punch in the solar plexus. “You okay now?” She nodded. “Just embarrassed.” He kissed her again, this time on the mouth. “Don’t sweat it. We all have our nightmares.” He turned her to face him, holding the flashlight straight up, so that it was indirectly lighting both of their faces. “I’m not going to let anything hurt you, you know,” he said sincerely. In fact, the surge of protectiveness he had felt when Lori screamed had astonished him. He’d never felt such a primitive urge to defend anything in his life. Lori, it seemed, was constantly teaching him new things about himself. “I know,” she answered simply. “I trust you, Eric.” Her words seemed to encompass more than just defending her from spiders and Eric’s heart swelled. Was she finally ready to move forward with their relationship? If so, then he’d picked a really bad time for a tunnel-crawl. Where was a bed when you needed one? Lori stood on her toes to place a sweet, chaste kiss on Eric’s lips. “Now let’s finish this before dinnertime,” she commanded, bending down to retrieve her flashlight. “Where are we?” They’d entered the tunnels from the subbasement of Harrison Hall. There were no obvious tracks in the dust coating the tunnel floor and the loud hum of steam traveling through the massive pipes was beginning to give Eric a headache. “I think we’re almost under the music building,” he told her, checking the map he’d printed out the night before. “There should be a couple of doorways off to the left for that. Then we either head south toward Education, or west toward Business.” “We’re definitely still in the old section then,” she mused. “I haven’t seen any signs of recent habitation, have you?” Eric shook his head as he grasped her arm and headed west. “It’s actually a little cleaner than I expected, but other than that, nothing.” They walked a little while further, until they were about halfway between the music and business complexes, by Eric’s estimation. “Look over here,” Lori cried, excitement causing the pitch of her voice to rise about an octave. Eric winced as the shrill tone echoed in the old stone passage. “There’s something weird about this section of the wall.”

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Eric followed the sweep of Lori’s light. At first, he couldn’t see what she was talking about, but then he noticed a long, smooth, vertical seam in the otherwise irregular pattern of the stonework. He had no idea what it meant, but it was definitely an anomaly. “It’s almost like someone closed off another hallway,” Lori murmured, following the straight line as it formed a rectangle about six feet high and four feet wide. “Umm-hmm,” Eric concurred. His elbow caught painfully on a protruding stone and he swore viciously. “You okay?” Lori asked, barely sparing him a glance. “Yeah,” Eric shook out his tingling hand. “There’s a rock that juts out a little bit.” He shone his light on the offending stone and smacked it lightly with the heel of his hand. “Sloppy masonry,” he grumbled. “Uh, Eric,” Lori’s voice was a quiet squeak. “What?” “I don’t think it was carelessness. Look.” She tugged at his arm and he turned to look in the direction of her light. The fine seam they had noticed earlier was widening perceptibly. Then he heard the low hiss of a hydraulic mechanism over the roar of the pipes. “Hot damn!” he whispered hoarsely, the memories of hundreds of hours of fantasy role-playing flooding his thoughts. But this was real. “An honest-to-goodness secret door.” They stood, transfixed, as the rectangular section of the wall slid open.

***** Lori swallowed hard then felt the saliva return in a rush as excitement and fear coursed through her body. Eric had shifted her so that she stood slightly behind him. She doubted he’d done it consciously, he was as fascinated with the new development as she was. Still, she was touched by his instinctive protective gesture, even if it did somewhat inhibit her view. “Well?” She prodded his waist with one finger. “Let’s go in.” “You wait here,” he ordered. “I’ll check it out.” “No chance, bucko,” Lori contradicted him. “It’s all for one and one for all. Now move it.” Eric played his light down the short passageway revealed by the secret door. About five feet ahead of them, the corridor made a sharp left turn. He advanced slowly and Lori could hear the sound of their rapid breathing as they reached the bend. “What the hell?” Eric mumbled.

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Lori reached out a hand. “This is a natural cave formation,” she said in wonder. Sure enough, where the corridor turned, the chiseled stone block walls gave way to a twisting passage carved out of the natural limestone that formed the local bedrock. They followed the tunnel through several more curves, for maybe a total of a hundred yards. “We’re heading away from the main part of campus, I think,” Eric whispered, after checking his map. “I’d guess we’re under the big student parking lot.” “We’re heading downward too,” Lori observed. “We’re going quite a bit deeper than we started.” Rounding a final bend, they discovered that the passage widened out into one of the natural stone caves that permeated the region. The “room” where they stood was roughly thirty feet in diameter and the arching roof of the cave dripped with stalactites some twenty feet above Lori’s head. “It’s Karsts topography,” Lori told Eric softly. “Natural formations caused by underground waterways millions of years ago. They’re all over the Irish Hills, which were formed where the last glacier stopped, dumping tons of dirt and stone that had been pushed in front of it. I’ve been in some of the caves, but I didn’t know there were any under the campus.” “No one does,” came a deep, mellifluous voice that echoed off the stone walls and ceiling. “I prefer to keep it that way.” Both Lori and Eric jolted as the sound reverberated about them. Eric’s flashlight illuminated another exit to the cave, a second corridor that led farther into the unknown depths. The voice appeared to be coming from that direction, although the bouncing echoes made it difficult to tell. They both trained their lights on the far entrance. “Who are you and what are you doing down here?” Eric challenged. The sight that appeared in the joined beams of the two powerful flashlights rendered both of them utterly speechless. Lori swallowed convulsively and clutched Eric’s arm hard enough to leave bruises. “Who? What? I mean who the hell are you?” Eric stuttered. “You, Professor Gordon,” came the cool, calculated response as the fantastic vision moved slowly toward them, “may call me Drake.” The dragon moved with stately precision into the room, his foot-long talons clicking lightly on the smooth stone floor. The fantastic beast stopped about five yards from the couple and sat back on its haunches, rather, Lori thought, like a very large and regal dog. The canine impression was shattered when the dragon used one supple, leathery wing to stifle a massive yawn. “You must be Dr. Tremain, my dear lady,” it said, nodding with an almost royal condescension. “A good Cornish name, Tremain. I should have guessed.” Her fear subsiding, Lori’s curiosity began to take over. “How did you know my name?”

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What must have been a smile curved the creature’s lips. The iridescent bronzecolored skin curled back to reveal long ivory teeth that gleamed in the flashlights’ glow. Lori knew that she should have been terrified, but she was too fascinated. This was an entirely new species. A reptile species and Lori, a youngish, heretofore undistinguished herpetologist, was here, in person, talking to it. This was by far the coolest thing that had ever happened to her! “I’ve been following the on-line efforts of both Dr. Gordon here and our perpetrator. When the villain specifically targeted your hard drive for the WYRM virus, I suspected a connection. Then Dr. Gordon happened to mention you during the course of one of our late-night chess games,” the beast explained. The dragon’s calm rationality was almost comical under the circumstances. “Eric?” Lori asked. “You-you knew?” Her voice rose to a piercing squeak. Eric shook his head slowly. “I never even dreamed,” he murmured wonderingly. “Drake. Dragon. WYRM. Of course.” He removed his glasses, polished the lenses on the hem of his King Crimson t-shirt and returned the wire frames to his face. “Phenomenal.” Drake sketched a courtly bow. “A pleasure to make your acquaintances, although I wasn’t expecting the fair lady. Welcome to my humble abode.” “You live here?” Lori asked. “Beneath the campus?” Drake nodded his massive head. “I have dwelt within these caverns for the last eight hundred years, give or take,” he informed them. “Only now is that existence threatened.” “Threatened by whom?” Lori asked in utter confusion. She had slowly relaxed her grip on Eric’s arm, but he kept her close with an arm wrapped protectively around her waist. When the mythical figure heaved a great, hissing sigh, Lori was almost surprised that no steam issued from its enormous nostrils. “I believe that this discussion is going to take awhile,” the great reptile noted somewhat dryly. “Perhaps we should make ourselves more comfortable.” He stood then turned his back. His ten-foot-long tail swished impatiently from side to side. “Follow me.”

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Chapter Eight They followed, too awestruck to even consider disobedience. Eric had relinquished his hold on Lori’s waist in favor of clasping one of her small hands in his. Through all of his disbelief and wonder, he felt a warm glow of pleasure that he was sharing this experience—or hallucination—with Lori. “Welcome to my inner sanctum.” The resonant, impossibly deep voice interrupted Eric’s thoughts. The passageway from which the dragon had appeared led to a smaller chamber, comfortably furnished with a huge mound of pillows in the center. A natural niche on one wall held a row of kerosene camping lanterns that illuminated the cave with a soft, flickering glow and a couple of large plastic coolers were stacked in the far corner. The dragon tossed each of them a large cushion and gestured toward a low ledge along the side wall of the cavern. “Please, be seated.” Then it turned its enormous body in a semicircle before flopping comfortably onto the big, pillowed heap. “I apologize for the inadequate lighting, but I haven’t managed to run electricity into my quarters. Which should, I imagine, explain why I use the janitor’s closet when I need power and telephone access.” Eric nodded judiciously, noting the familiar shape of a computer setup piled haphazardly in one corner. Next to it sat a brand-new laptop. “Since I discovered your computer station, you’ve been using the laptop.” “Correct. I knew you were an intelligent human the first time you defeated me in a chess game. I am gratified that you were the one chosen to unravel my little—problem.” Lori was staring at the dragon in fascination. Eric could see the control she was exerting to keep from touching the magnificent bronze scales. Drake seemed to notice as well, because his lips curled up again in that semblance of a smile. Very slowly and carefully, he extended a claw-tipped foreleg toward the herpetologist. “It is very refreshing to meet a human female who doesn’t faint and run away at the sight of me,” he told her, as she gravely shook hands with the creature. Her soft fingers caressed the skin of Drake’s prehensile digits, then curiously ran along the back of one of the razor sharp talons. Eric suppressed a twinge of jealousy as he watched her hands on the dragon’s flesh instead of on his own. “This is incredible,” she whispered. “I know I can’t write it up, no one would ever believe me, but to see, talk to and even touch a totally unknown species…” Her voice trembled then trailed off. She swallowed convulsively then looked up into Drake’s face and spoke again. “Thank you so very much.” “My pleasure, Dr. Tremain,” Drake replied seriously. “And I thank you for not wishing to expose my existence. I fear, though, that you are correct. Few of your people 70

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would ever believe you, even if you were to bring them here to my cave. Most humans, you understand, would not be able to see me, even if I were to stand directly before them.” “Why?” asked Eric. “We can both see you just fine.” Drake nodded then shifted slightly on his cushions. “Which, you may remember, surprised me when I first entered the outer cavern.” The two humans nodded and remained silent as they awaited a further explanation. “Dragons as a species control a good deal of magic,” Drake began in an instructional tone that both academics instinctively recognized. They sat quietly, absorbing the lecture. “Eons ago, especially by human standards, dragons realized that the human race presented a significant threat, one that could eventually lead to our downfall. Humans believed that dragons were inherently evil and many were intent on our extinction. There was that George fellow, over in England, for example. Nasty, smelly, metal-clad barbarian. To protect our species from this emerging menace, a great spell was cast and each adult dragon living at that time participated in the covenant of its execution. From that time forward, most humans have been unable to hear, see or even smell a dragon.” “So why can we?” Lori asked. Her little nose wrinkled pertly as she sniffed, noting the mildly reptilian scent that clung to the cave, Eric assumed. “Centuries ago, there were other races, older than humans,” Drake began. “In Ireland, where I lived, we called them the sidhe.” “Elves, fairies, that sort of thing, right?” Eric interrupted. Maybe there were one or two advantages to having been a D & D geek in college. “Correct,” Drake noted, narrowing his wide golden eyes in reproach at the distraction. There was an almost subsonic rumble as the dragon cleared his throat. Eric shut up. “Now, these other races existed in other parts of the world as well, under other names. The djinn in the Middle East, for example. The Chinese called them demons and the Native Americans referred to them as spirits of nature, but most cultures recognized the existence of some sort of magical beings. The Celts, however, were far more accepting than most other peoples and as a result, there was more—interaction shall we say—between the humans and the sidhe.” “Interaction?” Lori queried. Eric loved the way she nibbled on her full lower lip when she was thinking. It made him want to kiss away the tooth marks. “Indeed,” Drake replied. “The sort that produces children of mixed blood.” Even in the lamplight, Eric saw Lori’s pale skin flush. “Oh,” she uttered sheepishly. “Of course.” “Quite,” Drake noted dryly. “If I might continue?” Lori nodded, looking so unhappy about the rebuke that Eric squeezed her hand in support. Drake sighed then went on. “The great invisibility spell, for want of a better term, applied only to full-

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blooded humans. As the years progressed, the sidhe and their like elsewhere became more and more reclusive, finally withdrawing from the world of men completely. Over the years their bloodlines have become so diluted that there are very few people left in the world who can perceive one of my kind.” “Since you are both clearly of Celtic extraction, you probably have more than one of the sidhe in your ancestry and random genetic mixing has produced two of you with enough of the blood to make you immune to the spell.” “But I’m English, not Irish,” Lori noted. “How can that be?” “Tremain is a Cornish name, dear lady,” Drake replied, as though to a slightly deficient child. “In my time, Cornwall was one of the Celtic Kingdoms. Although the old language and customs may be lost, some trace of magic remains in the population.” “And Gordon is Scots,” Eric added. “Another of the Celtic kingdoms.” Drake nodded with faint approval. Then he speculated. “This region with its rolling hills has drawn many Celts because of its resemblance to Ireland. I would presume that the magical fields rife in the area have also drawn many of those with elven blood, perhaps quite unknowingly. This could explain why there seem to be a disproportionate number of you.” “Others have seen you?” Eric asked in alarm. “Not in recent years,” Drake assured him. “At least, not to my knowledge. My senses are quite acute and I have always hidden myself quickly whenever a human has seemed to sense my presence. Two or three years ago, there was, for example, a young student of Chinese extraction who had a slight scare one evening while walking home. He heard footsteps, felt some warm breath but saw nothing. The last human with whom I spoke face-to-face was the Native American stonemason who so kindly built my secret door while he was lining the wall in this portion of the steam tunnels.” “Descended from a ‘nature spirit’?” Eric asked, finally beginning to believe that all of this was real and not some hallucination caused by bad air in the steam tunnels. That was probably a bad thing, but he couldn’t help it. Drake sure sounded, looked and smelled real to him. So did Lori’s death-grip on his hand. “Correct. Many of their shamans were, of course. The mason who happened to stumble upon my cave in the early 1900s woke me from a magical sleep. Ironically, I believe that he was a direct descendant of the shaman who had enchanted me centuries earlier.” “But how did you get here from Ireland in the first place?” Lori wondered. “Did you come with the immigrants who settled the area?” “No, Dr. Tremain, I was here long before them. By your calendar, I arrived on these shores somewhere in the thirteenth century.” He sighed then shifted. “It’s a rather lengthy tale,” he warned. “You have the time?”

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They both nodded silently. Nothing aboveground was more important at this moment than hearing the dragon’s story. At their affirmation, he began to speak. His deep, melodious voice washed over them like waves on the shore and they listened in rapt attention. “It was my habit to fly along the Irish coastline. I enjoyed sheep and cattle as much as the next dragon, but seals were always my particular favorite. One afternoon as I flew, a storm appeared out of nowhere—a storm of monumental proportions. Caught by surprise, I was unable to seek shelter in time. A bolt of lightning struck me on the left flank.” He pointed to a rough ragged scar of grayish flesh on his hip. Lori’s eyes softened empathetically, as if sensing the great beast’s pain. The dragon shared a look of masculine tolerance with Eric. Apparently even male dragons understood softhearted females, Eric thought. He wrapped an arm casually about Lori’s waist and settled back against the cool limestone wall of the cave to listen. “The storm, which I still believe was magical in origin,” the dragon remarked, “tossed me in great circles above the Atlantic Ocean for hours, perhaps days. At some point, I lost consciousness and glided, unaware, on the air currents provided by the storm. I realize now that I was actually gliding counter to the normal currents of the North Atlantic, but I’ve honestly no idea how. When I finally awoke, I was above what must now be Ohio or perhaps Pennsylvania. I flew on for a while, attempting to get my bearings. When I saw these hills, so familiar yet so different, I began to realize that I was, indeed, a long way from home.” The great golden eyes were clouded, with memory or sadness, Eric wasn’t sure. “I was in need of food, water and rest. A stag provided the food, one of the region’s abundant lakes provided water and I quickly found a small, protected cave in which to rest. I noticed the indigenous people, of course. They were so different from the Celts with whom I was familiar. Bark huts, leather clothing and all that long black hair. I was far too tired and ill to deal with any sort of potential threat, so I simply avoided them, hoping to rest and heal, then find my way home.” “So what happened?” Lori prodded softly. “I had noted the presence of a ley line, a dense field of magical power, beneath my cavern. It had not, however, occurred to me that a shaman tapped into that line would note the magical fluctuation caused by my presence. He came to investigate the disturbance and happened on my sleeping form. By the time I began to gain consciousness, he had begun the spell that entrapped me. Fearing a creature so unlike anything he had ever seen, the shaman cast me into an enchanted sleep. I would wake only when called by one of his bloodline. The great power of the ley line over which I slept enforced the spell and I remained here until wakened by a stonemason some seven centuries later. The man kindly accepted a small token of payment in return for leaving me a form of egress from the cave that had become my prison.” “So you’ve been awake and living here for over a hundred years?” Eric interpolated.

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Drake shook his massive head. “No. Whether there was residual power in the spell, or the stonemason reinforced it, I do not know, but after a few days, I fell back into my slumber. I only roused completely after another nine decades. I have been living here, much as you see now, since the late 1990s.” There was so much to ask, so much to understand. Drake went on to explain that he had crept out of his cave and observed the campus, mostly by night. Once he had understood the abilities of the internet, it had been easy for him to “borrow” his first computer and he’d found the deserted janitor’s closet with its discarded phone line to be an ideal personal office. He’d then used the internet to make purchases, educate himself about the modern world and even establish an investment portfolio. “But where did you get the start-up cash?” Lori asked, clearly unwilling to believe that Drake was a thief. He beamed at her with what looked to Eric like fond approval. “Oh, I had a few personal treasures tucked on my person. It is quite amazing what one can get for genuine Celtic jewelry on eBay.” Eric laughed. “I’ll bet. They sell reproductions for a small fortune at Renaissance fairs.” Lori nodded her understanding. “That’s what you meant by ‘a small token’ for the stonemason too, wasn’t it?” “A small ruby,” Drake shrugged. “I believe it allowed him to retire at a very young age.” Eric wondered what a dragon considered small. “I eventually purchased my own computer as well and returned the one I had borrowed from the laboratory.” “What about food?” Lori wondered, the herpetologist in her showing. “What do you eat?” “Nosy professors,” Drake returned. Eric stiffened as if preparing to defend them both, but Lori laughed with delight, relaxing him. “No, really.” Drake smiled. He’d been teasing her, Eric realized belatedly. “Ah, so humans do have a sense of humor,” he noted. “At first, I ravaged local farms for sheep or calves. The occasional rabid dog or coyote I considered a community service, since that condition has no effect on dragons.” Lori nodded, understanding, as did Eric. “Then I discovered the wonder of on-line meat warehouses.” Drake sighed with relish. “A few clicks of the mouse and the parcel delivery people will bring half a cow, already skinned and cleaned, to anyplace in the world.” He gestured to the coolers across the cave from Eric and Lori. “T-bone, anyone?” Eric realized, rather reluctantly, that he was, in fact, hungry. He’d planned to take Lori out to dinner after they finished exploring the tunnels. He glanced at the luminous dial of his wristwatch. It was after five and there was still one more critical issue to be discussed. “So why did you create the WYRM virus?” he asked Drake boldly.

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The dragon replied with a cunning grin. “I told you that in the beginning, young sir. It was a method of information retrieval. In my first years of consciousness, I had a great deal to learn about the state of the modern world.” He heaved a great, hissing sigh and Eric thought he saw a small curl of steam escape from one large nostril. “My original virus, however, duplicated files rather than deleting them and it left no traces. It was certainly never intended to alter bank accounts.” Drake crossed his forelimbs. Eric had quit thinking of them as legs, although Drake did walk in a four-footed fashion. When he sat though the hands were as dexterous, if not more so, than any human’s. “That, my new friends, is the crux of my current problem. Someone with no real sense of ethics has corrupted my program and is using it for nefarious purposes. I fear, however, that the potential for disaster goes far deeper than a bit of embezzlement.” “Go on,” Lori urged. She was studying the pattern of the iridescent scales on Drake’s flexible, leathery wing. Her unabashed curiosity seemed to amuse the dragon, who shifted his wing slightly to facilitate her examination. “I have been monitoring the activity of the virus. I believe that whoever is currently manipulating the WYRM has discovered the secret of my existence. I also believe that he may have stumbled upon the rudiments of an ancient spell, one that could put all of us in grave danger.” There was a pointed pause, then Drake, apparently satisfied that he had their complete attention, went on. “If a human with magical blood were to complete and cast such a spell, he would be able to enslave certain magical beasts.” Another pause for effect although they both knew what was coming next. “Including dragons.”

***** Lori sat on her front porch, sipping at her diet soda and staring blindly across the tree-lined boulevard in front of her house. She was finding it hard to believe that yesterday had actually happened. She fingered the ancient coin that Drake had pressed into her hand as she was leaving. A token, he had told her, that would assure her it was more than a dream. How had he known that that was how she’d be feeling this morning? The dragon was phenomenally intelligent. Not to mention magical. Of course if his stories were true then she, herself, had some rudimentary inherited magical ability. Wow, she thought dazedly. It was every imaginative child’s fantasy come true! She knew that she was still in a state of shock over the whole incident. Lori was also incredibly frustrated. Her more immediate, adult fantasies had unfortunately not been realized. Instead of a romantic dinner followed by an even more romantic night at either Eric’s place or hers, she’d spent the night alone grading introductory biology exams and preparing Monday’s lab exercise. She had forgotten that Eric had mentioned a previous commitment this weekend. Apparently he had promised to join his officemate David in some pseudo-military paintball war. They

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hadn’t even had a chance to rehash yesterday’s unbelievable events. She stretched, enjoying the feel of the warm sunshine on her bare arms and grinned to herself. Life did, occasionally, hold some compensation. While she was curled up sipping Dr Pepper on her cozy porch swing, Eric was slogging through some swamp with a twenty-pound backpack and being shot at with neon-colored paint pellets. Still, she mused ruefully, she missed him. She had planned on waking up this morning with his strong slim body beside her. After yesterday’s discoveries, she particularly needed Eric because he was the only person she could talk to about Drake. She understood now the urgency of the situation. Dragons could cause a lot of havoc and a dragon enslaved by an unscrupulous villain could hurt a lot of people who would never even see it coming. The thought of the majestic, well-mannered Drake being that way made Lori slightly nauseous. They had to discover the identity of the villain and stop him, before he found the final components of the control spell. The sound of a storm door banging and the mouthwatering fragrance of warm yeast and cinnamon pulled her back to her surroundings. “Breakfast, chica?” Ben sat down beside her on the swing and handed her a paper plate loaded with freshly baked cinnamon bread. “Why am I surrounded by men who can cook?” Lori grumbled through a mouthful of the delicious bread slathered with genuine butter. Her waistline might regret this later, but right now her taste buds were in heaven. “The estimable Dr. Gordon?” Ben asked, taking a more moderate bite of his own serving. “He’s been cooking for you, hmm?” Lori blushed. “Dinner last week. No breakfasts—yet.” Ben smiled and Lori wondered again why she couldn’t have felt an attraction for her devastatingly handsome friend. “So you’ve made your decision?” Lori nodded. “I’m still determined not to get into anything too serious,” she declared doggedly. “Not until after my tenure review. After all, it would hardly be fair to start something if I end up having to leave in December.” Ben nodded sagely. “Sounds reasonable. What does Eric think?” “We haven’t really discussed it yet,” Lori hedged. “He had a previous engagement this weekend. Some paintball tournament.” “Ah,” Ben sighed. “I know the one. A few guys I know asked me to join them, but my knee isn’t fond of running around in damp places. These days I usually leave the war games to the amateurs.” “I didn’t know you were ever into that,” Lori noted, looking at her friend in a new light. “There’s a pretty big overlap between the folklore community and the sciencefiction fan base,” Ben told her. “And an even bigger one between the science-fiction group and the ‘weekend-warriors’. A lot of the same guys are into sword-fight

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reenactment with the Society for Creative Anachronism and the whole medieval recreation scene.” Lori knew Ben was involved with that organization as a part of his folkloric research. She’d even attended a Renaissance faire with him once the previous summer. It had been fun. An idea struck her. “So if someone was to be interested in, say, dragons and magic spells, these people would be a good place to start.” Ben tilted his glossy black head in inquiry. “Why the sudden interest in fantasy, chica?” Lori played absently with a tendril of hair. She couldn’t tell Ben the whole story, or he’d think she was insane. She groped for the right words. “The WYRM virus,” she said, settling for partial truth. “We think whoever is using it is searching for information on dragons and spells. Maybe he fancies himself some sort of wizard.” Ben nodded thoughtfully. “WYRM means dragon,” he agreed. “The sci-fi-fantasy crowd might be a good place to start looking. I’ll ask around, see what I can find out. There’s a sci-fi club meeting on campus later this week. I’ve gone before, so no one will be surprised to see me.” His dark mahogany eyes regarded Lori intently. “You, on the other hand, will be careful. There is a lot of money involved and that makes it potentially dangerous.” Lori thought briefly about the prank phone calls she’d been getting almost every night. They unnerved her, but she wasn’t ready to mention them to Ben or any other would-be protector. “I’ll be careful,” she promised. “But I’m going to pass your information along to Eric.” “Okay,” Ben agreed, finishing his bread and swallowing the last of his morning coffee. “Monday, you can introduce us.” “Yes, father,” Lori conceded with a chuckle. She dropped an arm around Ben’s broad shoulder and gave him a friendly hug as she passed him to head up her stairs and cheerfully ignored his affronted growl.

***** The swamp was as wet and smelly as, well, a swamp in April. Eric used the back of his hand to wipe at his face, but he only managed to smear the clot of mud even more. Oh well, better camouflage. There was a loud splat then a large orange splotch burst onto the tree trunk not far from Eric’s head. “Watch it!” A beefy hand hauled Eric further down into the ditch. “They almost got you there, buddy. Pay attention!” “Sorry,” Eric whispered back, as he and David belly crawled along the muck at the bottom of the ditch. “Man!” David shook his head. “You’re miles away today. Another good soldier brought low by a woman.”

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Woman, dragon, computer virus, spell. Actually Eric had a lot of things on his mind this fine Saturday afternoon that seemed a lot more pressing than capturing the orange team’s flag. “Hey, Dave,” he said a little later, as they huddled inside their team’s bunker eating their soggy packed lunches. “Know any fantasy geeks on campus who fancy themselves wizards?” Dave tipped his hand back and forth. “A couple, why?” “This WYRM thing seems to be pointing in that direction.” Eric chewed on a granola bar without really tasting it. David tossed him a Twinkie, which met a similar fate. “Seems like the idiot is trying to assemble some sort of dragon spell, along with a wad of cash.” “Straight European mythos fantasy, or somebody into the whole neo-pagan scene?” David asked. Eric had forgotten that his friend was an active practioner of the revived Wiccan religion. “Maybe not even European,” Eric admitted. “Could be Chinese, Middle Eastern, whatever.” He chewed thoughtfully for a minute, then added, “Probably not a serious Wiccan though. This whole thing is pretty self-serving and definitely harms.” He referred to Wicca’s primary creed, “And it harm none”. David nodded. “There’s a couple of would-be wizards in the role-playing society, but I can’t see either of them having the computer savvy to run your virus. I’ll check around.”

***** Later that evening when the phone rang, Lori was ready. For the last two nights, she’d been taping her threatening phone calls—just in case. She had enough technological skill to rig her answering machine to automatically record any incoming call, though she’d quickly deleted all but the ones from her midnight caller. “Who is this!” she demanded when she heard the now-familiar voice. “Why are you calling me?” “This is your last warning. Leave the WYRM alone!” the voice hissed. “Or you will suffer the consequences.” Before she could ask any further questions, the caller hung up. First thing Monday morning, she told herself, she was signing up for caller identification! She replaced the cassette on her machine and put this one in a drawer with the others. Then she crawled into her comfy four-poster bed and settled down to read. She’d chosen a fantasy novel, unsurprisingly. It was a classic piece about a mathematics professor who traveled through time and into the body of a dragon. She’d always loved the story. After what Drake had told her about her ancestry, she supposed it made sense.

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The phone’s shrill beeping startled her and her heartbeat and breathing accelerated almost violently. It couldn’t be him again, could it? He’d never called twice in one night before. Still, who else would be calling her at eleven thirty? “Hello?” Her voice was hesitant, in spite of her best efforts. “Lori? Did I wake you?” The warm, sexy tone was reassuringly familiar. “Eric!” she cried. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you tonight.” Her heartbeat was still racing, but it was no longer from fear. Just hearing his voice set Lori’s senses tingling. “Yeah, well, I got killed out of the action early,” he confessed. “My mind just wasn’t on the game today.” She chuckled, hoping that his words were the compliment she took them as. “Kept seeing dragons everywhere, huh?” “Yeah,” he acknowledged, then his voice took on a huskier tone. “That too.” A shiver ran down along her spine. “I talked to my neighbor, Ben Montoya, today,” she began, in a hurry to get the obligatory information out of the way. “He’s the folklorist I told you about.” “Right.” Eric’s voice was suddenly curt. Was he jealous? What a delicious thought. “He’s going to check around in some of the groups he belongs to, see if he hears about anybody who seems overly hung up on dragons.” “Yeah,” Eric replied. “Dave said the same thing.” He was definitely jealous. Lori decided to relieve a little of his obvious discomfort. “Ben sort of sees himself as my second big brother,” she told Eric dryly. “He wants to meet you.” “Whatever.” “He’s the one who told me to quit being a chicken and go out with you.” There was a startled silence at the other end of the phone, followed by a soft laugh. “Tell the guy I owe him a beer.” “When will you be back?” Lori winced at the wistfulness she heard in her own voice. “Not until late Sunday night,” he told her regretfully. “I’ll meet you Monday for lunch.” “Okay,” Lori answered. “I really need to get some work done on my research article, anyway. If I don’t get it sent out in the next couple of weeks it won’t be accepted for publication in time for my tenure review.” She sighed. “That’s assuming it gets accepted at all.” “They’ll accept it,” he assured her. “Have faith.” “Thanks.” She smiled, wishing he were here. “Where are you now?”

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“In a grungy little motel in the middle of Indiana,” he told her ruefully. “Which is better than being in a damp tent out in the swamp. This is one game I’m actually glad I got killed out of.” He paused for a moment. “So where are you right now?” “My apartment, where else?” Lori retorted. “You called me, remember?” “I mean where, specifically?” His chuckle was low and warm. “In bed?” “Yeah,” Lori answered, still confused. “So what are you wearing?” he asked in a low, sexy drawl. Lori flushed and was glad that he couldn’t see her. “My nightshirt.” “What does it look like?” She gulped. “It’s an oversized t-shirt,” she replied. “It comes to my knees. It’s white, with a Pinky and the Brain cartoon on it.” The two lab mice that were forever trying to take over the world were a favorite of Lori and her nephew Matthew. Matt and his sister Ashley had given her the shirt last Christmas. Eric chuckled again and the sound made Lori shiver. “Take it off.” “What?” she shrieked. “I said take off the nightshirt. If I’m going to be sitting alone in this godforsaken motel room talking to you, I want to imagine you naked and in bed.” Lori wasn’t exactly puritanical about sex, but her experience was pretty limited. Still, just the idea had caused her nipples to harden into stiff little buttons beneath the fabric of her nightshirt. The soft cotton felt suddenly rough and coarse against their heightened sensitivity. “Okay. As long as you take your clothes off too.” “That’s my girl,” he told her approvingly. “I’m wearing gray sweatpants.” There was a rustle at the other end of the phone line. “Now I’m not. How about you?” “Just a second.” She set down the receiver and removed her garment. “Okay, it’s off.” “Are you cold?’ he asked. “No,” she answered truthfully. “Actually, it’s kind of warm in here.” “Are your nipples hard?” Lori watched as the blush crept down over the tops of her breasts. “Yes.” “If you’re not cold, then why?” His voice was pure sex and Lori wanted him here, now and inside her, desperately. “You,” she replied simply. “Are you wet?” Lori shrugged, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “I think so.” “Find out,” he instructed. She obeyed, then swallowed hard as even more moisture flooded her at her own tentative touch. “Yes.”

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“Did you know that just thinking about you gets me hard?” His question was rhetorical, so she didn’t answer. “Are you still touching yourself?” “Uh-huh,” she confessed, then gulped. “Eric, I wish you were here.” “Me too, sweetheart. But since I’m not, you’ll have to take care of yourself. Play with those pretty pink nipples for me, will you? Both hands.” She could hear his breathing accelerate. “Pretend it’s me. I can’t wait to do it myself. First I want to touch and caress them with my hands, then I’ll take each one into my mouth. Soft kisses first, then I’ll use my tongue. Finally, I’ll clamp down and suck until you moan with pleasure.” “Oh Eric,” she moaned, just like he’d said she would, only he wasn’t even here. Embarrassment warred with arousal, but arousal was winning. “Eric, I’ve never done anything like this before,” she told him, still fondling her own breasts and feeling the heat pooling in her center. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothed. “Don’t quit on me now. Imagine me taking one hand and sliding it slowly down your tummy. I’ll stop for a second and play with your bellybutton. Now take your own hand and pretend it’s mine.” Her hips bucked up off the sheets and she dropped the phone onto the mattress. “I dropped the phone,” she told him when she’d retrieved it. “Do you have a speakerphone?” he asked with a low laugh. “Not in the bedroom.” “Then use your left hand to hold the phone. Slide your right hand down your body. Tell me how wet you are.” “Very,” she assured him. “I’m soaking the sheet.” He groaned. “That’s my girl. Now slide your fingers around and find out where it feels best.” “Right here,” she rasped. “Oh Eric!” Her fingers strummed rapidly across her swollen clitoris. Her hips jerked in a frantic rhythm. “Now slide one finger as far inside you as you can,” he ordered huskily. “Pretend it’s me.” “I am,” she cried. “I wish it was you!” Tension was coiled tightly in her belly and she could no more stop than she could stop breathing. Her eyes were closed as she visualized Eric’s strong body pinning her to the bed, plunging deep inside her. “Me too,” he moaned. “God, Lori, I’m so hard I’m about to explode.” Lori whimpered as she resumed the rapid motion that would bring her release. “I’m coming, Eric,” she panted as the tension began to peak. Then she wailed. “Oh God!” Her cries trailed off as the convulsions washed through her body. She barely heard Eric’s grunt as he reached his own completion. There was a long silence, then Eric broke it with a groan. “Lori, if you’re even half as good in person as you are on the phone, I’d better take out a life insurance policy.”

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Lori was too embarrassed to speak. “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now?” he asked softly, caressingly. “Umm-hmm,” she replied in a tiny voice. “Thank you.” “Thank you. Next time, let’s do it in person.” “Okay,” she agreed. “I’d like that.” “Good night, sweetheart.” “Good night.” Lori hung up the phone, turned off the light and pulled up the covers, then she fell asleep without even bothering to put her nightshirt back on.

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Chapter Nine As soon as the crowds on campus began to thin, Eric and Lori finished up their fastfood dinner and made their way back toward Harrison Hall. Lori had been nervous about seeing Eric again after Saturday night’s erotic phone call but to her great relief he chose not to mention the incident. When he’d shown up at her office for lunch, he’d greeted her with a warm, thorough kiss, but he’d kept himself in check and they’d managed to keep it light. At his suggestion, she’d walked over to his office at five and Eric had introduced her to his officemate and friend, David Garvaglia. David had been fun, she thought. He was much closer to the stereotype of a computer programmer than Eric was, with his scraggly chestnut hair and unkempt beard. He’d been dressed in camouflage pants, combat boots and a bright yellow t-shirt with blue lettering that read, “Some days it’s just not worth chewing through the restraints”. He was grungy-looking, but at least he was clean. Lori had liked the unorthodox character instantly. David had turned down their invitation to join them for a hamburger, informing them of a fantasy club meeting he was planning to attend. “I’ll keep an eye out for your ersatz wizard,” he’d told them cheerfully. Then he’d turned to Lori. “Don’t keep him up too late. Tuesday is his early class.” On that note, he’d left the room, whistling, and slammed the door behind him. Now they walked hand-in-hand at a leisurely pace. The first daffodils were budding up, Lori noticed, which reminded her of the daffodils that Eric had sent. She squeezed his hand affectionately. A few early crocuses were already in bloom, although typically, residents of southern Michigan could expect at least one good mid-April snow yet to come. She used her free hand to fasten a few more buttons on her pink denim jacket, against the cool evening air. “Cold?” Eric asked in concern. “Want my jacket?” She rubbed her cheek along the shoulder of his buttery-soft brown leather bomber jacket. “No.” She smiled happily. She’d worn a warm cream-colored turtleneck under the jacket this time and instead of the pink denim skirt and hose she’d worn during the workday, she was now dressed in a pair of well-worn blue jeans, accented by pink canvas sneakers. She’d caught Eric’s eyes straying to her denim-covered bottom, so she assumed he approved of her attire. She wondered if he’d like the ivory silk teddy she had on underneath it. They waited until there was no other traffic in the corridors of the administration building before they began their descent to the subbasement. One pair of eyes, however, saw them enter the steam tunnels and fumed. They hadn’t taken his warnings to heart.

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It was time to demonstrate what happened to people who messed with the master of the WYRM. “Do you have any idea who it could be?” Eric asked Drake as he carefully positioned his remaining rook. Playing chess face-to-face with Drake was even more of a challenge than when the dragon had been an anonymous on-line opponent. Lori lounged on a couple of pillows with her chin propped up on both hands, watching them, while she leafed through one of the books on Irish mythology that Drake had collected. “No more than I’ve told you,” Drake replied, moving his queen just in time to avoid losing it. “Nice move, my friend, you almost captured my lady.” “Most of the WYRM’s transmissions come from the language arts building, right?” Drake’s enormous head nodded just slightly. “Those that I have been able to trace. A few have been routed from off-campus locations.” He paused, then countered Eric’s last move. “Check.” Eric looked up, startled. “Damn, I’d missed that.” He focused intently on the board for a moment. “Hah!” he cried eventually. “Checkmate.” He moved a bishop, capturing Drake’s remaining knight and repeated, “Checkmate.” The dragon huffed disgustedly. “So it is. Perhaps human beings are less stupid than I’ve always assumed.” He reached a claw around to try to scratch a particularly inconvenient spot on his back then grumbled. Lori jumped up and rubbed the itchy patch happily. Eric felt almost jealous when the great reptile closed his eyes and practically purred. “Perfect, my dear. Oh thank you.” Eric realized that he must have been glowering when Drake opened one basketball-sized gold eye and actually winked at him. “Your superior still insists on keeping the police out of the matter?” Drake inquired after Lori had resumed her seat. Eric put away the elegant marble chess set then joined Lori on her pile of cushions. When she leaned happily into him, he felt a warm wash of contentment. “Unless we see an indication that someone is in actual danger, yes,” Eric replied. “If I think there’s a risk of violence, I’ll go to the Feds in a minute.” “But we can’t tell them anything about you, or spells,” Lori added. “So it limits the avenues of inquiry that they would pursue.” “You are not considering the email threats to be serious then?” Drake asked pointedly. Lori looked at Eric and crossed her arms, clearly demanding an explanation. Eric groaned inwardly. He hadn’t intended to tell Lori about the unpleasant emails. “No,” he answered stubbornly. “They’re not substantive. Most electronic criminals shy away from physical violence.” Lori nibbled thoughtfully on her lip, ’til Eric reached out a finger and stopped it. She grinned shyly. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Nervous habit.”

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“It’s cute,” he told her, delighted to provoke another blush. “But distracting.” “I concur that your police would have a difficult time accepting the rather unusual ramifications of this particular case,” Drake intoned loudly, drawing their attention back to him. It struck Eric that in just a couple short days he’d begun to regard an actual dragon as just another presence. He grinned unrepentantly as Drake continued. “But I do not share your assurance regarding the lack of physical danger. Our perpetrator actually believes that he will hold the power of one of the world’s last living dragons, if not the very last. That, my friends, is a very potent lure. He may well feel justified in resorting to physical violence to thwart his opposition.” “Don’t you love the way he speaks,” Lori asked Eric later as he walked her back to her car. “I keep expecting him to start quoting Shakespeare,” Eric agreed. “Even though he actually slept through the entire Renaissance.” Once they reached the parking lot, she turned to him. “Come home with me?” she offered breathily. He smiled warmly and drew her into his arms. “Better yet, why not come to my place,” he suggested. “There’s a fresh cheesecake in the fridge and no downstairs neighbor.” Lori smiled brilliantly up at him. “Okay.” “Shall we stop by your place for an overnight bag?” he queried huskily, wanting to make sure she knew what he intended. She buried her face in his chest and his hopes plummeted, ’til he realized that her trembling was actually a giggle. Shy and hesitant, maybe, but definitely a giggle all the same. “It’s in the car,” she told him. “I was kind of hoping…” She shut up when he kissed her. Back at Eric’s house, all the awkwardness she’d been feeling all night came tromping back. Even more embarrassingly, he seemed to notice it too. “Cheesecake?” he offered gallantly as he led her in the door. He plopped her overnight bag in the hallway and took her arm, drawing her into the kitchen. “When did you make cheesecake?” she asked, mystified, as he cut thick slices of the creamy confection and poured homemade raspberry sauce over the top. They were seated on tall barstools on opposite sides of the breakfast bar, which divided the kitchen from the dining room. He grimaced. “Last night, about two a.m. when I couldn’t sleep and was plotting a way to lure you into my clutches,” he admitted, then handed her a slice. She took a bite then closed her eyes in utter rapture. “Good plan. This is incredible. Hanging around you is not going to be good for my waistline.”

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Eric leaned across the breakfast bar and wiped a small smear of raspberry off the corner of her mouth with the pad of his thumb. “Don’t worry. I plan on helping you get plenty of exercise too.” She didn’t know how to reply to that, so she focused on the cheesecake, enjoying every decadent bite. “I have a confession to make,” she told him quietly, when she was finished. Her fingers were still playing nervously with her fork. “I’ve been told that I’m not very good at…” “Sex?” he offered, when her voice trailed off. She nodded miserably. Eric took her empty dessert plate and dumped it unceremoniously into the sink along with his own. Then he came around to her side of the bar and swiveled her stool around so she was facing him, with one of his big hands on each of her shoulders. “Maybe you’ve just had lousy partners,” he suggested. “Lori, the way you’ve responded every single time I kissed you…” He paused, as if searching for the words. She smiled at him, though, pleased that he didn’t seem too worried about her confession. He grinned back, sexy and inviting. “Why don’t we find out for ourselves what we’re like together, hmm? That’s all that matters.” She stood then and placed one small hand on either side of his face. “So why are we still in the dining room?” she asked. He growled low in his throat as she kissed him deeply. “Table’s handy,” he suggested, drawing her tight. “But not for our first time together.” He tore his face away from hers and lifted her into his arms. The sensation of being lifted evoked a startled screech from Lori. “Put me down, you idiot!” she cried. “I’m too heavy, you’ll hurt yourself.” But it felt wonderful, she conceded mentally, to be cradled next to his warm body by his long, powerful arms. “You don’t weigh much of anything,” he argued fondly. “If you were any tinier, I’d be afraid of breaking you in half.” He kicked open his bedroom door, laid her down gently on his queen-sized bed, then switched on a bedside lamp. Lori looked around. “Uh, nice place,” she said. “Very…umm…masculine.” When she’d been at his house before, they’d avoided the bedroom. Eric laughed then sat down next to her on top of his navy blue comforter. “Early American yard sale, for the most part,” he told her. “With the occasional internet purchase thrown in for comfort.” Like the mattress and box-spring combination, she guessed. The luxurious comfort of the bed conflicted wildly with the stark no-frills appearance of the room. An old dark wooden chest of drawers sat in one corner, topped by a fairly large television and DVD combination unit, and an old end table by the bed held an ugly lamp and a CD player/alarm clock. The only other furnishing was a stack of brick and board

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bookshelves that lined one wall and was crammed haphazardly with books, magazines, DVDs and CDs. “Nervous?” he asked as he gently began to play with a strand of hair that fell across her shoulder. Lori looked up at him and smiled. “A little,” she confessed. In reality, her heart was pounding wildly in her chest. “Do you want to go home?” “No,” she assured him and herself firmly. “I don’t want to go anywhere.” Her hands came up to frame his face. “Are you going to talk all night,” she began, a little shakily, but feeling utterly sure that this was right, “or are you going to shut up and kiss me?” “Tough choice,” he whispered teasingly, as he lowered his face to hers. “Let’s figure it out.” Once his lips closed on her waiting mouth, there was nothing more that needed to be said. Lori closed her eyes as they kissed, first allowing, then encouraging Eric to draw her body closer to his, until she lay across his lap while he leaned against the wall where a headboard should have been. Just like before when he’d kissed her, the touch of his lips ignited an instant flame deep inside her belly. She molded her body tightly to his as their tongues danced against one another, darting, tasting, stroking. When he broke the kiss to trail his lips down the side of her throat and up to her ear, Lori buried her nose in the warm hollow between Eric’s shoulder and neck. His crisp, masculine scent shot another bolt of lust straight to Lori’s center. Instinctively, she licked and nibbled at the smooth, warm flesh and was rewarded by his low moan of pleasure. “You have too many clothes on,” he growled into her ear. His hot breath tickled the sensitive skin, now damp from his kisses. His hands slid beneath the sweater at her waist and tugged it upward. She lifted her arms, allowing him to slide the soft cotton up and over her head. Once the sweater was out of the way, he gazed appreciatively at the ivory teddy still shielding her body and his hands went directly to the fastening of her jeans. Moments later, she lay sprawled before him on the bedcovers, posed languorously in the scrap of satin and lace. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he told her, dropping kisses along the lace-edged bodice of the teddy. His fingers slipped just slightly inside the edges, grazing the tops of her breasts. Lori reached up and began to unbutton his flannel shirt. “I’m glad you think so,” she answered honestly. Right here, right now, she felt beautiful. Then she knelt beside him on the bed to push the shirt off his shoulders. He stood, just for a second, to shove his jeans and briefs to the floor. Lori stared in wonder. She’d known he was well muscled, for all of his slenderness, but standing before her, naked and aroused, Eric was nothing less than magnificent. She swallowed hard then leaned forward to drop a kiss on the taut skin of his stomach. A faint trail of light brown hair ran down from between his flat brown nipples and she rubbed her cheek against its

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softness. She inhaled the intoxicating aroma of male musk, which mingled in the air with the pungent scent of her own arousal. Desperate to taste as well, she licked the indentation between his pecs, loving the salty tang of his sweat-dampened skin. “C’mere,” he rasped and drew her up to stand beside him. Sometime or another he’d managed to turn on some music, she noticed. Soft, New Age strains of flute and piano danced on the cool spring evening air. She stood and he drew her close to him, his hands molding the curves of her back, from neck to thighs and back again. When they reached her shoulders, he gently lowered the straps of her teddy, baring her full, aching breasts to his heated gaze. “Yum,” he murmured appreciatively as he bent to take one already swollen nipple into his mouth. “You taste as good as you look.” He whispered the words as he switched his attention to the other breast. Lori moaned at the exquisite pleasure his lips provoked and tangled her hands in his hair for balance. When he sucked deeply, though, the shaft of pleasure was so strong that her knees gave out beneath her and she sagged backward onto the bed, drawing Eric with her in a tangled heap. Lori was humiliated, but Eric just smiled. “That good, huh?” he asked lazily, adjusting their positions so that she lay beside him on the bed. “You okay?” Lori licked her lips, trying to speak. “Never better,” she finally managed. He tossed his glasses onto the night table and reached behind the clock, fumbling for a moment. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of tearing foil. Thank God, he’d remembered protection, Lori thought. She’d forgotten all about it. She watched in rapt fascination as Eric sheathed himself and she felt a brief moment of fear. He was a lot bigger than anyone she’d ever been with. Was this really going to work? Protected, Eric turned back to Lori, propping himself up on one elbow beside her. Then, as if he understood her insecurity, he leaned over and gave her a kiss so full of tenderness and passion it nearly brought tears to her eyes. By the time they came up for air all her fears were forgotten. The soft sound of the music helped soothe Lori’s qualms as Eric began to explore her body with his lips and fingers. He trailed kisses down between her breasts and over her softly rounded abdomen before circling her navel with his tongue. “Does that feel good?’ he asked tenderly. Lori could only whimper. His kisses continued down one leg to her toes, which made her giggle for a second. “Ticklish?” he queried, then proceeded to tickle the bottom of her foot with his fingertips. “I’ll have to keep that in mind,” he remarked cryptically, then his lips began their upward journey on her other leg, this time moving around to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “Open for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, sucking lightly on the crease of her hip. Lori obediently spread her thighs, her hand clutching convulsively at the blanket beneath her. He dropped a gentle kiss in the soft nest of dark curls on her mound. “You smell so good,” he groaned. Then his tongue darted swiftly between her folds, finding,

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just for a second, the aching spot where all her sensations were centered. “And you taste even better.” Then his fingers followed and he explored every moist hollow, every silken crease with lips and tongue and fingertips. “I can’t believe you’re this wet this fast,” he told her. “And all for me.” She knew that she ought to be embarrassed, but there was nothing but the raw pleasure of his touch, the throbbing need for more. “I want you,” she told him, her breath hitching between the words. “Now.” He slipped first one finger, then another up inside her, testing her readiness, stretching gently. Lori’s head thrashed from side to side on the pillow. Then he moved upward and kissed her deeply, hungrily. The taste of her own arousal was so erotic that Lori’s hips bucked upward just as Eric slid inside her with one long, powerful stroke. “Okay?” he asked, holding perfectly still inside her. Lori looked up at him, eyes wide, and wiggled her hips tentatively. She was stretched, but it didn’t hurt, she discovered. “Fantastic,” she murmured, moving sinuously beneath him. He uttered a low, wordless growl as he began to move. His weight was propped up on his elbows and both of his hands clasped Lori’s, holding them to the bed on either side of her head. She rose to meet every thrust, whimpering softly at the intensity of the pleasure. No one had ever filled her like this. She’d never felt so complete. It got even better, she discovered, as his breaths shortened and his pace increased. Each thrust went a little deeper, a little harder. Lori could barely breathe herself and she barely heard her own soft, mewling cries. Incredible pleasure was pulsing through her body, coiling deep in her center. Finally, as he pounded into her, the tension broke and it felt like a series of fireworks going off inside her body, starting in her core and ending in her eyeballs. Colors, sounds and sensations swirled inside her head and she didn’t even hear Eric’s hoarse cry as he convulsed inside her.

***** Eric lay beside Lori’s sleeping form and shuddered with remembered pleasure. Had it ever been like that before? So overwhelming, so heart wrenching? He didn’t think so. He stared at her, softly illuminated by shafts of moonlight through the slats of his miniblinds. His fingers tangled in one of the strands of long dark hair that cascaded over her pillow. She looked right in his bed, he decided. This was definitely where she belonged. He knew she’d enjoyed their lovemaking. The wild convulsions of her orgasm had dragged him over the top and he’d stayed inside her for several long minutes, feeling every twitch and aftershock as he soothed and caressed her. Then he’d only left for a moment to dispose of the condom before taking her back into his arms. They’d fallen asleep like that, still tangled up in one another.

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Eric got up to answer the call of nature that had awakened him, then glanced at the clock as he slipped quietly back into bed. Three fourteen a.m. He really should just snuggle back down beside her and go back to sleep. He had an early class tomorrow after all, and Lori looked so angelically peaceful lying beside him. Then all his good intentions went straight to hell when she opened those gorgeous brown eyes and smiled at him. “Is it morning yet?’ she mumbled. Eric shook his head, his fingers reaching out of their own accord to stroke her satiny white shoulder. “Mmm,” Lori sighed, moving closer to him. “That feels nice.” Then she reached up and drew his face down to hers for a kiss and Eric was lost. Lori took charge this time and in his sleepy bemusement, Eric went right along with it. She rolled to straddle his hips and Eric obligingly flopped onto his back and raised both hands to caress her breasts. God, he loved her breasts. They were full without being huge and the rosy brown nipples were wonderfully sensitive to his touch. They had already hardened into tight little berries before his lips even touched them. Lori leaned forward, offering the delectable globes before him like a feast and Eric dove in, licking, nibbling and sucking like a starving man. Her soft cries were music to his ears. God, she was so responsive. He shifted his hips, trying to ease the pressure in his throbbing groin. His movements brought him into contact with her slippery folds and the wet heat almost finished him before they’d even started. “Lori,” he whispered hoarsely as she writhed above him. She seemed to understand his need, because she lifted her hips slightly then reached one hand down between them. Eric groaned when she touched him and forced down the climax. He didn’t want to come in her hand. Then, just moments after she had impaled herself on his straining shaft, she screamed her own pleasure and Eric gripped her hips and pumped as her warm sheath pulsed around him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he may have remembered that he wasn’t wearing a condom, but his consciousness was entirely focused on the glory of skin gliding along moist, naked skin. She was a little bit swollen from their previous lovemaking, but she was so wet that he moved easily in spite of her tightness. Finally, when she had finished her first orgasm and was building toward her second, Eric rolled her beneath him and, kneeling between her thighs, he lifted her hips. She accommodated him joyfully, wrapping her legs around his back and taking him even deeper than before. He thrust blindly, frantically and Lori urged him on, with little panting cries of, “Yes, yes, yes!” When he felt her muscles begin to contract, the pulsing caress triggered his own release and he jetted into her, longer and harder than he had ever come before. When he collapsed beside her, panting and sweaty, Eric gathered Lori into his arms. She clung to him fiercely, dropping hot little kisses across his chest and shoulders. Eric

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smoothed the hair that tumbled down her back and drew the covers up around them. He couldn’t recall ever feeling more replete in his life. There had been something different about sex this time. Suddenly, the realization hit. That something was protection. For the first time in his entire life, Eric had taken a woman without any form of birth control. No wonder it had felt so good, there had been no layer of latex between them. He hadn’t gone bare in years, not since he’d lived with Jenny, who had had one of those five-year implants. Lori wasn’t on the Pill yet, he knew. She’d admitted that after the first round. His head flopped back on the pillow. Good God, what had he done? He’d always been careful, even as a horny teenager, and now, with all the diseases running around, failing to take precautions was just plain stupid. He knew he ought to talk to Lori about his oversight, but somehow, he couldn’t bear to spoil such a beautiful moment. If there was a baby, they’d deal with it. The thought of marriage to Lori was somehow a lot less scary than it might have been a few days earlier. A little girl with Lori’s big dark eyes would be cute, he thought as he listened to the even breathing that told him she’d gone back to sleep. Then he pictured Lori rounded and pregnant and felt a surge of lust that had him hard as a rock all over again. No, he decided with a silly little smile on his face as he drifted off to sleep, there was nothing to worry about.

***** “Lori, are you even listening to me?” Lori blinked and looked up. Her hands played restlessly in her lap. “Yes, Richard, of course I am. I just cannot understand why you’re so upset about what amounts to a crank call.” Dr. Vandecar sighed. He really was a sexist old goat, Lori thought rebelliously as her boss just stared reprovingly. “I am upset, as you say, because the caller made sense,” he explained, as if to a slightly thick freshman. “You do have a propensity for prying into things that are none of your business. And, as to the other, the semester prior to your tenure review is hardly the time to be caught in an inappropriate relationship. I believe that you were expecting to publish another paper before December?” Lori sighed. She really wasn’t up to dealing with this today. She had enough on her mind trying to sort out the emotions brought on by the events of the night before. “My paper is nearly done, Richard. I expect to send it off to the Journal of Herpetology by Friday. I’m just now having a colleague check it for typos.” Richard nodded. “Good. And the other?” “Which other?” Lori asked acidly. “Yes, suppose I do have a new boyfriend, but I fail to see how going out on a few dates with a fellow faculty member constitutes having ‘an inappropriate relationship’. I’m not stupid, Richard, of course I realize that I need to focus my energies on my career right now and so does Eric. We’re just dating 91

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for heaven’s sake!” Which was a lie, Lori realized, but she was resolved to make it true. She really didn’t have the time right now for anything serious. “If you’re talking about my helping Eric with a few questions about herpetology, I don’t see the significance. He writes computer software and he had a few questions. There’s no deep, dark plot. This crank call is probably just some student’s idea of a joke.” Eric did write computer games on the side, Lori knew. He’d shown her a few, teaching her how to play the adventure scenarios he’d developed. A few of them had sold and were actually pretty popular. That was part of the reason he could afford a new car and a house on a professor’s paycheck. She was sure in her heart, though, that this call to Richard was another attack by the WYRM hacker. She’d have to tell Eric and Drake about this, she knew. The harassment was accelerating. She’d also have to tell Eric that things had to slow down. After she had soothed Richard’s ruffled feathers, she sat at her desk, staring idly at her desk blotter. Maybe once the semester was over, they could pick things up again, at least for the summer. She had to teach summer courses, but her research load would be lighter and she’d have more time to spend with a significant other. She sighed and stared at the calendar on the blotter. Then there was the big potential problem. Last night she had totally lost control and they’d made glorious love without protection. It hadn’t really occurred to her until she’d stood in the shower this morning, after yet another bout of spectacular love-making, trying to let the hot water soak away some of her lingering soreness. For the first time in her life she’d felt the sticky residue of semen on her thighs and it had scared her to death. The timing couldn’t be worse. Her cycle was pretty regular, twenty-eight days, with only the occasional fluctuation either way. Even that was never more than a day or two. While she didn’t always keep perfect track, she remembered all too clearly that her last period had started on April Fools Day, because it had seemed such poetic justice. Today was the fifteenth. Dead center. Yesterday had been the worst possible day for a moment of carelessness. She tried to remember whether or not the morning-after pill had passed through the F.D.A. and was now available. Maybe she should call her doctor and ask. Then she flopped her head down on her crossed arms. No. She couldn’t do it. She was thirtythree years old, not seventeen. She’d made the mistake, she’d deal with the consequences. She wondered bleakly what the tenure committee would think of a pregnant single professor.

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Chapter Ten “Hey, Dr. Gordon, wake up!” “I’m awake.” Eric forced his eyes open wide and regarded the student in front of him. “What’s up, Kyle?” He scanned the computer lab where his senior-level students were busily working away on their final projects. It was later than he’d thought. He guessed maybe he had dozed off. “You look like you pulled an all-nighter, man,” the sarcastic twenty-two-year-old told him. Kyle was only a junior, but he was already a terrific programmer. In fact, Eric personally thought that Kyle was probably as good, if not better, than most of the faculty. “I didn’t think profs were supposed to do that.” “Yeah, well, crap happens,” Eric replied grumpily. Kyle looked at the three dead foam cups in the trash can and eyed Eric warily. Then the student tossed his pile of notes back onto his station. “This is serious, dude. We’re talkin’ women problems, aren’t we?” He perched on the edge of the instructor’s table and raised one eyebrow. “You asking me to flunk you?” Eric snarled, but without rancor. “Go hack something.” “Hey, just trying to be helpful,” the student offered, unoffended and unafraid. Eric wondered why he’d ever bothered being friendly with his students. Then Kyle’s expression turned serious. “Last year, when my life got screwed up…” he began. Eric knew what the kid was talking about. Kyle had come to him asking for an incomplete after his girlfriend had been seriously injured in a car accident. Kyle had refused to go to a counselor, but Eric had provided a sympathetic ear now and then. “How is Melanie anyway?” Eric asked, hoping to change the subject. Kyle broke into a wide grin. “Walking some,” he enthused. She’d spent months of recovery in a wheelchair and still faced a lot of therapy. “She’ll be dancing at our wedding next summer.” Eric raised an eyebrow, wondering about the logic of getting married right after college, but he didn’t say anything. What did he know about love? In his experience, Kyle and Mel had as good a chance of making it as anybody else. “Anyway, Doc, if there’s ever anything I can do…” Kyle’s voice trailed off and he shrugged. Eric grinned. “Thanks for the offer. I just might have some game graphics for you to look at, if you want to try some freelance work this summer. Meanwhile, don’t you have a project to finish?”

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The kid smirked. “Yessir, boss. I’ll let y’all get on back to your nap now.” He strolled cockily back to his workstation, still sniggering. Eric sighed. Even his students could tell there was something wrong. Monday night he’d had very little sleep because Lori was in his bed, last night he’d managed even less because she wasn’t there. This latest development had him flummoxed. What did she mean they had to back it off for a while? She’d dropped that bomb last night at dinner, spoiling his plans for another romantic evening. Instead, she’d very politely kissed him on the cheek, taken her leave and driven home, leaving Eric staring after her like a deer in the headlights. He’d never even gotten around to discussing the possible repercussions of their carelessness the night before. What if she was pregnant? Kyle cleared his throat loudly and Eric realized that class was over. He waved the students out of the room then trudged down the hall to his office, still lost in thought. A former student was waiting there for him and Eric racked his brain trying to place the face. “Ted Nelson,” the student reminded him, standing, as Eric entered the office. “I was in your internet class last winter.” Eric shook the young man’s hand and sat down at his desk. “What can I do for you, Ted?” he asked politely. He offered his visitor a cup of coffee, which Ted refused, but Eric took one for himself. Then he rummaged around on his desk for some aspirin but couldn’t find any. Ted handed Eric a large manila envelope. “I work for the campus newspaper,” he explained. “These photos came in on this morning’s email. I thought you should see them.” Eric opened the envelope and nearly spewed hot coffee out his nose. “What the hell are these?” he yelled. Ted smiled thinly. “If you look closely, I think you’ll see a faint ghost around your head.” Eric looked and in fact saw a slight shadow that shouldn’t be there around his own face in the photographs. “You taught us how to recognize digitally altered photos,” the student told him grimly. “The paper isn’t going to print them, by the way, and I deleted the email, but I thought you ought to know that this was going on.” Eric studied the images in horror. It was him, his face at least. The body wasn’t quite right, but very few people would know about the scar on his left shoulder that wasn’t in the pictures. He wasn’t even sure Lori had seen it. To anyone who didn’t know better, the pictures showed Eric locked in a passionate, naked embrace with a very, very young man, most likely a student. “Thank you for catching this, Ted,” Eric sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Most people wouldn’t have noticed that ghost. It…it isn’t me.” Ted grinned ruefully. “I was pretty sure you were straight,” he told the older man. “And you’ve got too much integrity to be fooling around with a student. I’d have probably hit on you myself, otherwise.” He shrugged and Eric caught the faint trace of 94

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wistfulness in the young man’s gaze. “Besides, I saw you with Dr. Tremain from the biology department the other night. The way you were looking at her didn’t leave a lot of doubt as to your preferences.” “My preferences are pretty much limited to Dr. Tremain these days,” Eric admitted with a short laugh. “I think I know who sent you the photographs though. I’ve been trying to catch a hacker on campus and he must think I’m too close.” “The WYRM virus?” Ted asked. “I knew you’d been asked to look into it.” Eric raised one eyebrow quizzically. “How did you know?” Ted shrugged and grinned. “A good journalist never reveals his sources.” He stood to leave, shaking Eric’s hand as he turned. “If there’s anything I can do to help, just call me at the paper,” he told Eric. “I don’t like slime balls trying to use my paper to smear a good person.” Eric sat at his desk and shook his head. Why, all of a sudden, did his students seem like the grown-ups?

***** He was still in a funk when he met Lori the following day for lunch. At her suggestion, they met outside at the picnic table near the library pond. Also at her insistence her downstairs neighbor, Ben Montoya, was with her. Eric rolled his eyes as he approached. Sure enough, Montoya was the Latin god he’d seen Lori with earlier. How was he supposed to compete with a guy like that? Still, she’d said that Montoya had encouraged her to accept Eric’s invitation, so maybe he really was just a friend. In that case, perhaps the guy could talk Lori out of her current resolve to keep Eric at a distance. The weather had shifted again, back to unseasonably warm. Eric was wearing his favorite Hawaiian shirt, with bright pink orchids splashed across a turquoise background. He felt ridiculous compared to Montoya, who looked like an underwear model in a plain white t-shirt and faded jeans. Still, he saw Lori swallow rapidly as he approached, carrying his sandwich in one hand and a soda in the other. That was somewhat reassuring. When he’d set down his food, the other man clasped his hand in a friendly manner. “Ben Montoya,” the Latino introduced himself. “You must be Dr. Gordon.” Eric eyed Montoya warily. “Eric, please. We’re not in a classroom.” Lori smiled. “Ben’s only a student for a few more weeks anyway,” she told Eric, nibbling on a pita wrap sandwich. “He’ll be teaching at the community college in the fall.” Though there was some cross-town rivalry between the local two-year institution and the university, Eric knew that the standards for faculty were still pretty high at the other school.

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“Congratulations,” he offered sincerely. Lori looked tired too, he noted, even in her sunny yellow t-shirt dress. A tan belt and pumps complemented the outfit and a string of chunky amber beads circled her neck. Ben shrugged. “It’s a good second career,” he stated. “Although it was hard to start at the beginning as a twenty-nine-year-old freshman. Fortunately, Uncle Sam paid for most of it.” Lori explained that an injury had ended Ben’s military career and Eric felt even more inferior. Looks, machismo and brains. Some guys had all the luck. Eric decided it was time to get down to business. “Lori said that you had some leads on the WYRM hacker?” he asked bluntly. Montoya nodded and swallowed a mouthful of food. “There is a computer technician who works for the English department,” he mentioned, “who has been making a bunch of interlibrary loan requests for materials on dragons and magic spells.” “How’d you find out?” Lori asked curiously. “Sharon, at the library. I’ve been researching some related legends for my dissertation defense and she let it slip that there was somebody else on campus looking for old spell books.” Lori laughed. “So you charmed the information out of another susceptible female, huh?” She rolled her eyes in mock disgust. “Montoya, you’re a menace. You leave these drooling puddles of women wherever you go and you never even seem to notice.” His black eyes narrowed wryly. “Apparently only the females in the biology department are immune.” Eric absorbed the friendly banter in silence. To his immense relief, it didn’t seem like Lori was infatuated with the man. He began to relax even more when her warm brown eyes gazed at her friend sympathetically. “She’s not immune, Ben. Just scared.” Ben shrugged and turned to Eric. “Why would this computer person be researching dragons?” His question was straightforward. “And this spell he’s looking for. What makes you connect the two?” Eric cast a helpless glance at Lori, who was, predictably, chewing on her lip. He decided that it might be worth taking Montoya into their confidence. “Are you free this evening?” he asked the other man. Ben nodded. “Lori, shall we show him what we found in the steam tunnels?” Lori nodded helplessly. “I think so,” she told him. “We can trust Ben.” “Fine then,” Eric decided. “We’ll meet at Lori’s office at seven.”

*****

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Lori paced anxiously as she waited for Ben and Eric. The tension between the two men was obvious and Lori couldn’t quite figure out how to diffuse it. Eric was being jealous and Ben was being protective and she didn’t know exactly how she felt herself. She stopped to scratch Q on the head and complain to him. She told the iguana all about her night with Eric, the call to Richard and her decision to slow things down. The lizard just leaned into her fingers, content with being scratched, and Lori began to feel soothed. Just to make matters worse, however, she heard a throat being cleared in her doorway. “Wes,” Lori cried, startled. “I didn’t hear you come in.” “Obviously not,” Wesley replied. “You were too busy wallowing.” Lori nodded. “Yeah, I guess I was.” She had to get Wes out of here before Ben and Eric showed up. “I suppose I ought to go wallow at home.” Wes crossed her arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “You’re a lousy liar, Lori,” she told her friend bluntly. “What’s going on?” Of course, Ben and Eric both picked that moment to come around the corner from opposite directions. Eric hailed her warmly, while Ben’s greeting was significantly cooler. “Wesley.” The single word was clipped and curt. “Ben.” Icicles dripped from Wesley’s tone. “Christ!” Lori muttered. “Why me?” The upshot of the whole uncomfortable encounter was, to no one’s great surprise, that Wesley went with them. Lori just hated being caught in the emotional quagmire between her two friends, and the palpable hurt radiating from Eric for the last few days was even harder to deal with. Strained silence reigned among the four of them as they descended the gloomy staircase that led from the biology building into the steam tunnels. “We haven’t gone this way before,” Lori commented, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Eric shrugged. “We were just exploring before, so we started where I’d seen the tail. This is a short cut.” No one else commented and Lori just sighed as she followed Eric through the musty tunnel. She hadn’t gone home to change, so she was still wearing her yellow dress with low-heeled tan pumps. Eric gripped her elbow as she tripped over an old scrap of two by four. His hand felt good so she let it rest there as he led them through the unfamiliar labyrinth. Finally, they came to a corridor she recognized and Eric triggered the secret door. “Drake,” he called. “We’ve brought you some company.” The impossibly deep voice replied, “Enter!” and Ben jumped, then moved forward swiftly. Wesley just looked at Lori in confusion. “Who’s Drake?”

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“You’ll see,” Lori assured her. The she thought a minute and amended. “Well, maybe.” They ushered Wesley and Ben into the dragon’s inner chamber. While Wesley stared in confusion at the mounded pillows and camping lanterns, Ben gazed rapturously at Drake, unconsciously crossing himself in wonder. “Another one?” Drake asked snidely. “Aren’t there any full-blooded humans on this campus anymore?” Eric jerked his thumb at Wesley. “Apparently.” “Friends of yours, I suppose?” Drake sighed. “I can’t just eat them?” Ben immediately took up a fighting stance and Lori laughed. “Relax, Ben. Drake doesn’t like human. Too stringy.” “What are you talking about?” Wesley asked in confusion. She tried to cross the room to Lori but ran smack into Drake’s invisible shoulder. “They’ve been helping us with our problem,” Eric told the dragon. “Ben believes he may have found our culprit.” Drake apparently grew impatient with Wesley’s touching the “force field” in front of her. “Humans!” he huffed, then began a low, gurgling rumble. When he finished, Wesley looked up at him and screamed, then fell backward in a dead faint. Ben caught her before she hit the ground, lowering her gently to a nearby cushion. “What did you do?” Lori cried, bending over her supine friend. Wesley groaned and began to stir, then slapped away Ben’s hands that were loosening the leather belt on her khaki chinos. Drake sighed. “I simply exempted her from the invisibility spell,” he answered. “I thought you wanted her to see me.” “I see you all right,” Wes responded testily, sitting up. “Now just what in the hell are you?” “Can’t you see, cara?’ Ben answered, still holding Wes protectively. “It’s a dragon.” “No it isn’t,” Wesley grumped. “Dragons aren’t real.” “This one is,” Lori answered with humor. “And you’ve even read its DNA.” Wes’ blue eyes widened. “Oh my God,” she whispered, as first understanding and then belief set in. “I did.” She must have been still in shock, Lori thought, because she let Ben go on holding her. “Isn’t Drake just a little clichéd?” Ben was asking. “That cannot be your real name.” Drake laughed, apparently liking his newest visitors. “Of course not. Draconic names do not translate well to human languages. It would be sort of like that musician, the one they used to call Prince. That silly little symbol thing that could not be spoken.” “An icon,” Eric suggested. “Like a computer icon.” Drake titled his massive head in acknowledgement. “Rather like that,” he agreed. “Only auditory. Each dragon has a specific sound by which he is called.”

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“What is yours?” Lori asked curiously. “Or is it secret?” “Many societies believe that a being’s true name has a magical value,” Ben commented. “Perhaps that is true for dragons.” “It is,” Drake agreed. “But I doubt any human could reproduce the sound accurately enough to harm me.” He produced a low, resonant whistle from deep in his throat. It was beautiful, Lori thought, but eerie. They all agreed that the name Drake would have to suffice. “What about with a computer?” Eric suggested. “Could that be part of the spell to enslave you? Could Zimmerman be trying to discover your true name?” Drake considered that while they all filled Wesley and Ben in on the story to date. Then they explained their reasons for suspecting Jason Zimmerman, the English department’s resident computer technician, including the fact that several of the emails had originated in the language department’s computer labs. “I think he was in one of my classes a few years ago,” Eric added. “The name rang a bell, so I checked my old records. About five years ago, I failed a student named Jason Zimmerman. He was really quite bright, but he never bothered to complete his assignments. Do you think it’s the same guy?” Ben described the man. “He’s about twenty-five, dark brown hair, worn long, maybe some Native American blood. Short, skinny, acne and a big chip on his shoulder.” Eric nodded. “Sounds right.” “Zimmerman,” Drake drawled slowly. “Zimmerman was the surname of the mason who found my cave in 1922. He was also Native American, probably descended from the very shaman who cast me into my enchanted sleep. Perhaps he told the stories to a descendent.” “And the descendent was a hacker who stumbled across a virus,” Lori embellished. “And if he was descended from the shaman he’d have the ability to see dragons.” “And with a grudge against the world, he’d have the motive to want to control one,” Eric added. Wesley summed it all up succinctly. “Lord help us all.”

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Chapter Eleven After they’d all walked Wesley back to her car, Eric allowed Lori and Ben to drop him off on their way home. He’d completely ceased being jealous of the other man. Oh, it was clear that Ben cared about Lori, but after five minutes of watching Ben watch Wesley, Eric had known that Montoya was no threat to him. In fact, he felt a strong sense of kinship. Both of them wanted women who didn’t want to deal with them at this point in their lives. Rounding the corner of Eric’s street, they saw a group of flashing red and blue lights. As Lori’s little car pulled closer, Eric was shocked to realize that the police cars were all in front of his house. Searchlights illuminated Eric’s lawn and uniformed officers were striding in and out of his opened front door. “Wait in the car, chica,” Ben told her, climbing out alongside Eric. “We’ll see what’s going on.” Eric wasn’t sure he liked having the other man take charge, but he couldn’t be bothered to argue, since he agreed wholeheartedly. Together, the two men walked up to the nearest officer. “This is my house,” Eric told the cop. “What’s going on?” “Eric Gordon?” the officer asked, looking down at his clipboard. “That’s right, Officer Cotter,” Eric answered after reading the nameplate on the man’s shirt pocket. “What happened here?” “Your neighbor called in, thought she saw an intruder leaving about half an hour ago,” Cotter reported. “We got here and discovered some pretty nasty vandalism.” Blood drained from Eric’s face. “How bad?” Ben asked, gripping Eric’s elbow. “Pretty bad, Mr.—” the officer commented, eyeing Ben with typical small-town bigotry. “Montoya, Captain Benjamin,” Ben saluted easily. “U.S. Army, retired.” Cotter stiffened, but his demeanor turned respectful. “Just about everything’s destroyed. Furniture, appliances, you name it.” Just then Lori came running up. “Eric, what’s going on?” Officer Cotter turned to Lori. “Were these gentlemen with you tonight, miss?” Lori nodded, brushing her hair back out of her eyes. “Yes,” she answered stiffly. “Since about seven o’clock.” Eric checked his watch. It was now just after ten. “And where were you?”

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“We met at my office with another friend and then we…took a walk around campus.” Hopefully, the cop wouldn’t catch her short hesitation. Eric wasn’t giving Cotter credit for being any too bright. “Can I see the damage?” Eric asked wearily. “And gather up some clothes, if I have any left?” Cotter passed the request through to his superior, a pleasant woman about Eric’s own age called Sergeant Schumann. “Sure, we’re done. I doubt there’ll be any prints anyway,” she told him. “These days, everybody knows they need to wear gloves.” She led Eric through the chaos that used to be his home. Orange spray paint and a baseball bat seemed to have been the weapons of choice. The TVs were smashed in, his stereo and computer were both bashed beyond repair and pretty much everything else, including the walls, was covered in day-glow obscenities. “Nice,” Eric commented dryly. Fortunately, nothing had much sentimental value. Most of that was locked in his safe, which was undamaged except for the spray paint. Everything here could be replaced. “My insurance company is going to love this.”

***** It was late by the time Eric finished up with the police. He’d ascertained that nothing was stolen, at least as far as he could tell, and that just about everything of value had been smashed. Some of his clothes, thank heaven, had escaped unscathed, so he stuffed a bunch into a plastic garbage bag along with his razor and deodorant. His toothbrush was a loss, as the bristles were covered in orange paint. The only thing the vandal seemed to have left alone was the bookshelf in Eric’s bedroom. Maybe he got scared off before he got to that, but Eric tossed his favorite CDs and a couple of books into the bag as well, just in case the goon came back to finish up. “Do you think it was Zimmerman?” Ben asked from the backseat as they drove back to Lori’s place. Nobody had actually mentioned Eric staying there, but they seemed to sort of assume that he would. At least they didn’t appear to be taking him to a motel. Eric shrugged. “Who else?” “Don’t you think it’s time to tell the police?” Lori asked nervously. She had been pretty uptight through the whole deal, Eric noticed. “I already did,” he sighed. “It was hard to explain without bringing Drake into it, but for what good it does, they know about the virus and that I suspect Zimmerman. I also told them he’d been sending me threatening emails for a week.” Lori’s only response to that was a succinct curse. In spite of everything, Eric got a slight kick out of knowing that she worried about him. When they reached the restored Victorian, Ben cast an enigmatic look at Eric. “Upstairs or down?” Eric shrugged and looked questioningly at Lori, who sighed crossly. 101

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“Don’t be stupid.” She grabbed her briefcase and Eric’s backpack, which they had brought home from their respective offices. Eric’s trash bag was tossed over his own shoulder. Ben motioned Eric to a chair on the front porch and Eric got the message. “I’ll send him up in a minute, chica,” Ben told Lori, dropping an arm around her shoulder for a casual hug. “Guy talk.” Lori rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She’d been grouchy all evening and now it was even worse. Eric almost dreaded what she was going to say when she got him alone, so he got a reprieve when she turned and marched up the stairs to her own apartment. At the top of the landing, she hesitated then turned back toward the men. “You don’t suppose that whoever trashed Eric’s place came here too?” “Shit,” Eric growled, angry with himself for not having considered that possibility. “Get back down here.” “Wait.” Ben opened his own door cautiously. “My place is clean,” he called over his shoulder a couple of minutes later. “Come on in here.” “Give me your keys,” Eric ordered, holding out his hand to Lori. Ben disappeared into a side bedroom then reappeared, tucking something into the waistband of his jeans. “You ever handle a pistol?” Ben asked Eric bluntly. Eric grunted an affirmative. “Only targets, but I hit what I aim at.” He’d gone target shooting with David about once a month for the last few years. Ben ducked back into the bedroom and returned with a nine-millimeter automatic. Eric studied it briefly, testing its weight. “I’ve used this model,” he told Ben, then followed the other man’s example and stuck the gun into his pants. “Wait here, chica, with the phone in your hand. If you hear anything funny, hit 9-11.” “This is ridiculous!” Lori expostulated. “Those are real guns.” “We know,” Eric told her. “And we’re not going to take any chances.” He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead as she sullenly handed over her apartment key.

***** She disobeyed orders slightly, of course. Instead of waiting in Ben’s kitchen, she watched them from the front porch, although she did have the cordless phone at the ready. “Stubborn wench,” she thought she heard Eric mutter, but she couldn’t really be sure. Whatever he’d said it drew an answering chuckle from Ben. “Somebody better be planning on mopping up all that testosterone,” she grumbled under her breath. “I’m sure not gonna do it.” “All clear,” Ben called from the upstairs landing a few moments later. The two men turned and stomped down the stairs.

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“My heroes,” Lori growled waspishly, although they did seem sort of heroic, which annoyed her even more. Eric held the nine-millimeter out, butt first, toward Ben, who shook his head. “Keep it, at least for the night. We’ll all feel better.” Lori shuddered but Eric held onto the gun as he hefted his bag of clothing. “Thanks.” Then he held the door for Lori and followed her up the stairs to her living room. “You want me to sleep on the couch?” Eric looked dubiously at Lori’s sofa, obviously measuring its cozy length against his own prodigious height. “At the risk of repeating myself,” Lori snapped, “don’t be stupid. Now put that…thing somewhere where I can’t see it.” She gestured irritably at the gun. “I need a drink.” Eric stepped into her bedroom and came back without either his bag or the weapon. Lori was struggling with the cork on a bottle of wine and losing when he returned. “Are you okay?” he asked, taking the bottle from her hands and deftly pulling the recalcitrant cork. “Fine!” Lori fumed. Of course she wasn’t okay. Someone had trashed Eric’s house tonight and they’d been threatening him all week, which he hadn’t even bothered to tell her. For the moment, she conveniently forgot the phone calls she’d been getting that she hadn’t shared with him. “Liar.” With still-trembling fingers, she took the glass of wine that Eric held out to her. “Okay, so I’m not fine. I’m scared. What if you’d been home, Eric? You could have been hurt.” Or worse. She shuddered as she gulped a huge swallow of the merlot, nearly choking in the process. Smiling, Eric took the wineglass out of her hand and set it alongside his on the faux granite counter. Then, finally, he folded his long arms around her. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispered into her hair. “We’re both okay and the cops are going to catch this guy.” To Lori’s dismay, tears spilled out of her tightly closed eyes and onto Eric’s sweatshirt. His big hands stroked gently up and down her back as she cried and he whispered gentle reassurances while he held her close. By the time she stopped crying, Lori realized that he’d somehow maneuvered them to the sofa and that she was now cradled in his lap. She sniffled and almost smiled. All things considered, Eric’s lap was actually a pretty nice place to be. He handed her a tissue. “Better?” Lori nodded and blew her nose. “Sorry.” She stuffed the used tissue into her skirt pocket. Eric smoothed damp strands of hair off her face and it was one of the most wonderful sensations Lori could imagine.

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“Don’t apologize,” he ordered gruffly. “It’s been a long day. You should get some sleep.” “I don’t want to be alone tonight.” Her face was buried in his tear-dampened sweatshirt, so she couldn’t see his expression. The thought of having nearly lost him put her own fears about commitment into perspective. They might not be able to get serious now, but she wasn’t going to waste any time when they could be together either. Eric hugged her close. “Me neither. But what about wanting to slow things down?” His voice was low and tight with control and it thrilled her to her soul. “I was stupid,” she breathed, finally daring to look up at his face. She grinned. “So sue me.” His answering smile was full of humor and desire. “I think I have a better idea.” He stood, lifting her easily, and carried her toward the bedroom.

***** Their lovemaking this time was hot, hard and nearly frantic. Lori couldn’t get Eric’s clothes off fast enough and he seemed to be in just as big a hurry, shredding her pantyhose as he dragged them down and ripping one of the hooks off Lori’s sensible white bra. His mouth fastened roughly over one sensitized nipple while she still struggled with the button-fly of his jeans, then dragged the denims down around his ankles. Then Eric suckled hard as Lori thrust her hand down inside his cotton briefs. “Pocket,” he muttered hoarsely, dragging himself away from her for a moment. Lori growled in frustration at the desertion, but she saw him rummaging through his discarded blue jeans and got the idea. Seconds later he had found what he was looking for and swiftly shed the rest of his clothes before joining her on the bed, the little foil packet held between his teeth. “Let me,” Lori offered huskily, then opened the condom and lovingly smoothed it down around his straining erection. “Christ!” Eric moaned, then hauled her up his body to ruthlessly capture her lips with his own. Guiding her with his hands, he helped her straddle his hips, then his fingers delved between her thighs, testing her readiness. “Now, Eric!” she demanded, hips wiggling as she tried to impale herself. The need was overwhelming and she thought that she would go crazy if she didn’t have Eric inside her right this minute. When he guided his shaft to her slick opening, she cried out in pleasure, then pushed her hips down hard, taking him so deeply inside her that it actually hurt. She rode him hard, totally insensible to her own cries and whimpers as she reacquainted herself with the wonders of Eric’s body against her own. He craned his neck up and caught one distended nipple between his teeth, biting softly and Lori screamed. Eric gripped her thrashing hips with both of his hands, thrusting upward to fill her completely. Tears were pouring down her cheeks by the time she shattered and

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the climax was so strong, so deep, that she almost blacked out, slumping forward onto Eric’s chest as he gave his own guttural shout and his entire body went rigid while he emptied himself inside her pulsing body.

***** A few minutes later Lori lay half on and half off Eric’s chest while he kissed the streaks on her face left by her tears. He knew that they should get some sleep, but he just couldn’t bring himself to let her go. They’d each made one short trip to the bathroom, but other than that, they’d maintained as much skin-to-skin contact as possible. He wasn’t quite sure yet, but he had the idea that he’d enjoy holding her like this for the rest of his life. They still hadn’t discussed the possibility of her being pregnant and that was bothering him too. Not the idea of pregnancy, strangely enough. That would suit him just fine, he admitted silently to himself, wondering when his own reality had shifted enough for him to welcome the idea of being somebody’s parent. When he’d met Lori, he answered himself. Duh! If she was pregnant, he reasoned, there wouldn’t be any questions about making things permanent. She’d have to marry him. He supposed he could just propose, but he wasn’t sure he had the guts. Lori was still too skittish after her broken engagement and he didn’t want to take the risk of her saying no. He’d bide his time for now, he decided, playing with one long rope of dark brown silk. In time, she’d figure things out. At least she had reconsidered her plan to avoid sex. That was a pretty damn good start. Lori’s breathing had turned deep and rhythmic and Eric himself was just drifting off when the phone rang. Without fully waking, Lori stretched out one pale arm and snagged the receiver off her nightstand. “H’lo?” Eric figured it had to be a wrong number. It was a college town after all, and Thursday was a popular bar night. Someone was probably too drunk to remember his or her own phone number. He watched Lori’s sleepy movements in the moonlight for the sheer pleasure of it. Her reaction to the call startled him into total alertness. “Why are you doing this?” she shrieked into the phone. “Stop calling me!” Eric grabbed the phone out of her hand as she burst into tears. “Look, you sick piece of shit,” Eric snarled into the receiver. “Leave the lady alone if you don’t want to get hurt!” But he was talking to a dial tone. Disgusted and more than a little worried, he set the phone down on the floor on his side of the bed and gathered Lori into his arms. “Ssh,” he murmured, soothing her gently. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here and everything is going to be all right.” Personally, he felt like pounding on someone, but right now, nothing was more important than holding Lori in his arms. “Has he been calling a lot?” he asked softly, dropping kisses on her hair as her sobs receded into occasional sniffles.

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She nodded against his shoulder and her arms tightened around his neck. “Every night for about a week.” Eric swore violently. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Lori sniffled again and Eric mentally berated himself. Because things were so unsettled between them, of course. She couldn’t be sure how he would react. “We have to tell the cops tomorrow,” he told her sternly. “I’m not going to take any chances with your safety, Lori.” “I know,” she said in a very small voice, still refusing to look up at him. “He called my department chair too,” she confessed. “Told him I was messing around with someone, hinted that it might be a student.” “We need to wrap this up in a hurry,” Eric said grimly. “Before someone actually gets hurt.” Personally, he hoped that he’d have the opportunity to land at least one good punch on the asshole who’d threatened his woman. Huh, he thought a little later, after another long, slow bout of lovemaking had lulled Lori back into slumber. His woman. After all the unpleasantness of the evening Eric finally fell asleep with a smile on his face.

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Chapter Twelve The next time the phone rang, the rosy light of early dawn was shining through the window onto Eric’s golden skin. The insistent chirp woke Lori to the unfamiliar but delicious sensation of a hard, warm masculine chest beneath her cheek. She fumbled on her nightstand for the phone, but couldn’t find it. Then she felt Eric snake one long arm down beside the bed and heard him answer warily. “Hello?” There was a short pause. “No, you’ve got the right number, she’s here. Just a minute.” Pause. “Eric Gordon.” Lori sat up with the tangled sheet clutched tightly to her naked breasts and stared. No. It couldn’t be. But his next words confirmed her worst suspicions. “Yeah, I look forward to meeting you too, Mrs. Tremain. Here’s Lori.” Mortified, Lori took the phone he held out for her, unable to look him in the eye. “Morning, Mom,” she said miserably in the receiver, her eyes squeezed shut. “How are you?” “Absolutely wonderful, darling. A bit curious though. Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone?” Lori groaned out loud. “It’s fairly recent.” Ellen Tremain clucked her tongue and Lori could just visualize those brown eyes, so like her own, narrowing speculatively. “So what does he do?” Lori mouthed the words as her mother spoke them. Mothers were so predictable. “He’s an associate professor in the computer science department.” Lori could practically see her mother’s mental adding machine ticking over Eric’s financial potential. Eric was grinning at her like an idiot, so Lori let go of the sheet with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone and stuffed a pillow in his face. That made him laugh out loud. “He sounds nice,” Ellen commented. “I just called to remind you about the birthday party tomorrow. You’ll be bringing Eric, of course.” Oh God, Lori had almost forgotten that tomorrow was her nephew’s birthday. Gift shopping instantly became the day’s number one priority. “I’m not sure he can make it,” she hedged. “Nonsense,” Ellen announced crisply. “He said he’s looking forward to meeting your family and if he’s answering your phone at seven o’clock in the morning, then it’s certainly high time he did. Bring him.” There was no arguing with her mother when she got in this mood. Oh well, Lori figured Eric deserved what he got. Answering the phone had been his idea, after all.

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“I’ll see,” Lori equivocated. “Anything else?” “No, I don’t think so dear. Why don’t you go make your young man a nice breakfast?” Lori grunted, then snorted a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “My ‘young man’ is a gourmet cook, Mother. I wouldn’t be so cruel as to foist any of my culinary efforts on him this early in the morning.” This time she returned Eric’s grin. “Bye, Mom.” She turned off the phone, drew her knees up to her chest and buried her face in her hands. “God, what a way to start the morning.” Her shoulders shook with silent, rueful laughter. Eric was still chuckling too, as he hauled her into his arms. “I’ve got a better one,” he told her, nuzzling the side of her throat. “Better what?” Her brain was apparently still fogged. “A better way to start the day,” This time she caught the blatant suggestiveness of his tone and she stopped laughing. She turned her face up to meet his kiss. Quite a bit later, Eric sighed into his coffee cup in the parking lot of the local convenience store. “I need to get you a coffeemaker,” he told her. Lori grinned and bit into her doughnut with relish. “Sorry. Can’t stand the stuff. Gordon kept an espresso machine at my place, but after we broke up, I pitched it out the window. Feel free, however, to stash one in my kitchen if you like, especially since you’re going to be staying there for a few days.” That, Eric thought, was the one good thing to come out of the whole mess. He wondered how long he could drag out fixing up his house. There was a tiny piece of chocolate frosting stuck to her upper lip and Eric just couldn’t resist the opportunity to lick it off. Unfortunately, they were still in Lori’s little car and he bumped his head on the rear-view mirror. Picking up his own vehicle was definitely on today’s agenda. Damn, he hadn’t thought to check the garage last night. He wondered unhappily if his new car was still intact. Eric nodded. “Yeah, today I have to go see what can be salvaged at my place, then talk to my insurance company. What color carpeting should I get?” As much as he liked Lori’s place, it was a rented apartment and way too tiny for two—or three. The trick, he thought, would be getting Lori to turn Eric’s house into the kind of home she’d made her apartment. At the moment, however, which was perhaps fortunate for Eric’s plans, if not his actual safety, Lori wasn’t quite getting the hint. She shrugged. “I don’t know. What color do you like?” He let it drop for the moment. “What are you doing today?” Frankly, he was a little afraid to let her out of his sight, but he figured she’d be safe enough in her office. “Finishing my paper,” she sighed. “I told Richard that it would be in the mail by the end of the week. Then I have to go buy a birthday present for a seven-year-old.” She

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glared pointedly. “From both of us, since you insisted on answering my phone this morning. You do realize that now you’re expected to show up?” Eric grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” And that, he thought with satisfaction, was, for a change, nothing less than the truth.

***** Lori was trying hard to stay awake on the hour and a half drive to her sister’s house in Sterling Heights. She had finally finished her paper and mailed it at one o’clock this morning. Then Eric had driven her to the twenty-four-hour superstore for a suitable birthday present. Eric had had a field day in the toy department and they had left the store with a huge pile of presents and a jumbo-sized roll of cartoon wrapping paper. The sweatsuit she’d already bought ended up being wrapped in the comics from last Sunday’s paper, because the collection of the toys had completely used up the roll of gift-wrap. Lori looked over at Eric, smiling indulgently. “You know, you’re not supposed to be enjoying this so much.” “What?” he asked. “The drive? There’s not much traffic, since it’s the weekend. I don’t mind if you take a nap.” Lori grinned. After they’d finished wrapping gifts in the wee hours, they’d been awake for another little while and she was not only tired, she realized ruefully, she was also little bit sore. She wasn’t used to such an active sex life as she’d had in the last few days. “No, I meant the whole meet-the-family thing,” she corrected him. “You’re about to be interrogated by my mother and sister, who make the Third Reich look like pussycats. You could at least look properly terrified.” The dog had the balls to laugh. “I’m not afraid, Lori. My intentions are strictly honorable.” That shut her up. What the hell did he mean by that? She lapsed into silence and eventually fell asleep until he woke her to ask for directions as they exited the expressway.

***** To Lori’s further disgust, Eric was sure, he had a really good time. Having never had much of a family life, he was able to appreciate the rarity of the bond that existed between the vastly different members of the Tremain clan. The only thing they all had in common was their obvious affection for one another. A woman who had to be Lori’s sister had met them at the door. They had the same heart-shaped face and big brown eyes. Other than that, though, the sisters were completely different. Kelly Tremain Logan was a little taller than her younger sister and her leaner, toned body suggested regular workouts at a suitably upscale gym. Her sleek

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blonde bob was professionally maintained and, Eric assumed, professionally colored, since Kelly shared Lori’s dark arching eyebrows and sooty lashes. “You must be Eric,” she’d said, eyeing him in much the same manner that he imagined Lori must use to study a particularly intriguing specimen under her microscope. “I’m Kelly. Come on in.” A gaggle of children had erupted into the room at that point, goggling at the mounds of presents in their arms and exclaiming over their aunt in delight. Eric had allowed himself to be led through the exquisitely tasteful modern living room and into a large open family room, where a card table was set up to hold an already impressive pile of gifts. Lori introduced him to the children. “This is Jasmine,” she said, gesturing to the middle of the three girls, an adorable dark-haired tyke of about four or five who had insinuated herself up into Lori’s arms. “She’s Kelly’s youngest and she’ll be starting kindergarten in the fall. Her brother Jordan over there is the birthday boy.” Eric was trying hard to memorize the rug rats, aided by his memories of their pictures in Lori’s apartment. “You can tell Kelly and Joe’s kids, because they’re all J’s. Jessica, with the pigtails, is the oldest. She’ll be nine in October.” The shorter boy with the glasses proved to be Matthew, the son of Lori’s brother Gary. “He’s the future scientist,” Lori whispered proudly to Eric. The baby of the family was a mischievous imp named Ashley, who was already eyeing the birthday cake in a surprisingly calculating manner. “Ashley Tremain, get away from that cake!” came a firm masculine voice. Ashley obediently turned and smiled angelically at her father, who grinned at Eric. “Hi. I’m Gary.” He pointed to his daughter. “Watch that one. She’s a world-class con artist.” Eric shook hands with Lori’s brother. He also had the Tremain brown eyes, but his thinning short hair was a slightly lighter shade than Lori’s. Eric thought he remembered Lori telling him that Gary was an engineer for one of the big auto manufacturers. The other adults had joined them by this time. Lori’s brother-in-law Joe handed him an ice-cold bottle of a local microbrew. “Here,” he said with an empathic grin. “You’re gonna need this.” Then Lori’s mother enveloped Eric in a warm hug. Joe Logan grinned over the top of his mother-in-law’s head. “Told you,” he mouthed to Eric, who just stood there, having no idea how to react. “Mom, behave,” Lori ordered, putting her niece down to tug her mother away from Eric and hug her herself. “He’s not used to lunatic families. Don’t scare him away.” “Of course not, dear,” Ellen told her daughter, pulling back just enough to examine Eric head to toe. He wondered idly if he’d spilled coffee on his shirt or something during the drive. His wardrobe was still rather limited, but his black jeans and purpleand-black rugby shirt were both relatively new and respectable looking. The other men were wearing jeans too, he noticed with relief. Lori’s brother-in-law wore a pink polo shirt with the signature alligator and Gary Tremain had rolled up the cuffs on his faded chambray shirt. Reaching past Lori’s mom, he held out a hand to the one man he hadn’t met yet.

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“Eric Gordon,” he told the man who was most likely the father of the woman he was sleeping with. Awkward. “Doug Tremain.” The older man’s handshake was warm and friendly. Whew, another hurdle over with. They all seemed pretty nice. Eric wondered why Lori had been worried about him. A few hours later, he understood. Keeping up with Ellen and Kelly’s constant interrogation was exhausting. By lunchtime, he’d told them all about his own family background, his education, his career potential and his views on state and federal politics. About the only issue that hadn’t come up was religion, for which he was at least a little grateful. He looked across the room to where Lori was talking quietly to her sister-in-law Vanessa, a slender, freckled redhead, who seemed to be the quietest of the bunch, although her smile was certainly friendly enough. Lori caught his glance and grinned back in commiseration but made no move to rescue him. As if sensing his fatigue, however, Douglas Tremain came up and took his wife’s arm. “Let the boy go, Ellen,” he told his wife fondly. “Joe wants to show off his car.” Kelly rolled her eyes. “You mean his baby,” she corrected sarcastically. Smirking, she gave Eric a little push toward the kitchen, where Joe and Gary were sipping beers. “Go. Bond by all means. It’s a male ritual.” Eric followed Doug gratefully toward the other men, trying hard not to look too relieved. “Figured you needed a break,” Gary chuckled as he and Eric followed Joe past the laundry room to his attached garage. Eric laughed. “Yeah. I should have just brought my last five W-2s. Not to mention a reference list.” Joe laughed, flicking on the overhead light to reveal his pet project—a 1962 Ford Mustang about halfway through the restoration process. “They get better,” he told Eric as the latter made the appropriate appreciative noises over the sweet little convertible. “It’s just that after the last asshole Lori was engaged to…” Eric grunted and held up his hand. “Enough said. I’ve met the man. Trust me, he’s lucky that he still has all his teeth. I’m still tempted to hack his personnel file and add something nasty.” That comment drew agreeable grunts from the other males. “So how serious are you about my sister?” Gary asked casually. Eric sighed and leaned back against the wall of the garage, crossing his arms over his chest. “I get it. Same questions, different setting. Ask your mother.” After a couple moments of suspicious silence, he relented. “At the moment, more serious than she is about me. Thanks to the aforementioned asshole, she’s a little gun-shy. I’m working on it.” “Now that that’s over,” Joe began a little later after another dozen or so questions. He closed the hood on his precious Mustang and nodded. “Let’s go let my kid open his birthday presents before he explodes.”

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The rest of the day was actually fun. Jordan loved his gifts, especially the lastminute one that Eric had grabbed from his office on campus. “I can’t believe it,” Jordan gushed. “This isn’t supposed to be out for a month!” He held up the next edition of a popular motorcycle racing computer game. Eric blushed a little. “So I do a little game engine work on the side.” He shrugged it off, but Lori’s approving look warmed him to his toes. He added to the birthday boy, “That might not be the final cover, but the game will be the same when it hits the stores.” They always sent him a handful of prototypes of the games he worked on. He was just glad that there’d been one new release suitable for a seven-year-old. Too many of the games he’d worked on and played, he realized, were R-rated, at the very least. If he was starting to think about having kids of his own, he’d have to consider editing his game collection, as well as his bookshelves and DVDs. He wrapped his fingers around Lori’s and squeezed. He was glad he’d come. Lori’s family was nosy, but he liked them and he really didn’t mind the inquisition. Hell, he understood them wanting to protect Lori. She was sweet and a little naive and he wanted to protect her too.

***** Lori thought the day with her family would never end. She’d hardly spent two seconds with Eric since they’d arrived and it was now nearly seven o’clock. Eric was off demonstrating his computer game—his computer game—to Joe and the boys, while the women chatted and Gary played a game of pool with their dad. “I like this one,” Kelly observed. “He’s kind of geeky, but he’s way nicer than Warren.” Lori snorted. Kelly’s husband was an electrical engineer, for goodness’ sake. Who was she to talk about geeky? “The kids love him,” Vanessa commented in her usual quiet manner. “And even your dad seems to approve.” Ellen nodded in judicious agreement. “Eric could be the one, Lori. You should try to hold onto this one.” “Jeez, you guys,” Lori defended herself. “It’s not like I’m seventeen. I can handle my own relationships.” Kelly shook her head. “Not hardly. The last time we let you alone, you ended up with Warren the Weasel.” Lori rolled her eyes. She should never have let Kelly hear Wesley’s pet term for Warren. “Look. Things with Eric are still pretty new,” she expostulated. “Give it some time, okay? I’m trying really hard not to rush into anything stupid again. I’ve got tenure to worry about and everything else. I’m not exactly in the market for ‘the one’ right this minute!”

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Ellen clucked. “When the right one comes along, it won’t matter if you’re in the market or not. You’re thirty-three years old, darling. It’s time for you to settle down.” “Having kids is much riskier after thirty-five,” Kelly reminded her unnecessarily. “You might want to think about having a family soon.” Lori groaned. She hadn’t been able to think about much else since Monday night. She wondered idly which wall her mother would bounce off of if she mentioned that little possibility. Probably the ceiling first, she decided waspishly. She tuned out the rest of the familiar lecture in favor of her youngest niece Ashley, whose diaper was looking suspiciously squishy. “Meanwhile, I have your kids to spoil,” she announced, taking the two-and-a-halfyear-old by her chubby little hand. “What say we go get you some clean pants on, kiddo?” Gary took that as his cue to interrupt the women. “Ready to go, hon?” he asked, tousling Vanessa’s carroty curls. “I think it’s time to get the munchkin home to bed.” Vanessa nodded and left to round up their belongings, after thanking Lori for offering to change the munchkin in question. She handed over the diaper bag as Lori and Ashley started off down the hall.

***** After a casual dinner, as he and Joe were playing the race game with Jordan and Matt, Eric watched the interactions between the two young cousins with fascination. If Lori was pregnant, then their kid would be another cousin to these guys, he realized. Too young to play with them much, of course, but still a cousin to be loved and pestered, like the older kids did with little Ashley. As if he’d conjured her up, Ashley appeared at the doorway, yawning, clinging fast to the hand of her “Auntie Wori”. “Your folks are ready to leave, Matt,” Lori told the boy. “You better go say goodbye.” Matthew was spending the night with Jordan as a birthday treat. Matt obediently raced off toward the dining room, followed by Joe and Jordan, doing their duty as hosts. Lori scooped her sleepy niece up into her arms and smiled at Eric. “I told Vanessa that I’d change this one before they leave,” she said and he noticed the diaper bag slung over her shoulder. “Then maybe we should hit the road as well.” Eric looked at her holding the child in her arms and fought down a wave of pure longing. God, they looked incredible together. “Anytime,” he told her, meaning it. The sooner they left, the sooner they could be back at her place—naked. Lori smiled at the invitation that must have shown in his expression. “Lech,” she cracked good-naturedly as she turned toward the bathroom with her squirming charge. Eric grinned at her retreating back. She was right, of course. Who was he to disagree? In the true spirit of lechery, he ogled her gorgeous backside as he followed her down the hallway. Might as well see how this diapering business was done, after all. Who knew when a new skill might come in handy?

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***** Back in the confines of Eric’s car Lori mentally replayed their day and hoped her family hadn’t scared Eric off entirely. Though he hadn’t seemed scared when he’d had her show him how to change Ashley’s diaper. What had that been all about? “They weren’t quite what I had expected,” Eric admitted when she asked him for his impressions. Lori laughed. “No one expects the Spanish Inquisition.” Eric caught her Monty Python reference immediately and laughed, even though she knew her British accent was terrible. He reached across the gearshift to squeeze her thigh. “They weren’t that bad. I had fun.” Lori groaned out loud. He had seemed disgustingly comfortable with her relatives, come to think of it. Was he a masochist, or what? She must have asked that last question out loud without realizing it, because he answered. “No, I just don’t blame them for worrying about you. You’re the baby, they’re used to taking care of you.” “Right,” she grumbled. “Let’s hope you still feel the same way when my dad’s holding you at shotgun point.” Either he ignored that comment, or he didn’t hear it, which she figured was probably for the best. The atmosphere was still strained when they got back to Lori’s apartment. Ben waved at them through his kitchen window as they started up the stairs. Apparently, he’d been watching her place for intruders. Remembering the way she’d screamed during lovemaking last night, Lori blushed and was glad the darkening twilight hid her color from both of the men. She’d have to try to remember that Ben’s bedroom was right below hers. With Warren’s occasional tepid attempts at sex, making noise had never been much of a problem, but with Eric, she forgot everything else in the world. Embarrassment gave her just one more reason to be grumpy as she kicked off her shoes and curled up in her favorite green velvet armchair. “What’s wrong, Lori?” Eric asked tiredly as he sat down opposite her on the couch. “You’ve been crabby since we left your sister’s. What’s up?” Damn, it, did he have to be so—so reasonable? Lori narrowed her eyes. “Nothing.” Ha! Take that. Eric shrugged. “Okay.” He picked up the television remote and flicked on a sports channel. Within seconds, he seemed to be engrossed with a pre-season baseball game. What a man! Didn’t he know that “nothing” meant “everything”? How was she supposed to pick a fight with him if he wasn’t even paying attention? She managed, of course. “Do we have to watch baseball?” “No,” Eric replied, handing her the remote. “Watch whatever you want.” Lori switched off the TV and sneered. “How considerate of you. Especially considering that it’s my TV.”

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Eric pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What did I do wrong, Lori?” he demanded, finally beginning to get a little cross, from the sound of it. “Did I piss off your parents or something?” “No,” she spat. “They adored you.” “So what’s the problem then?” She was glad to hear the hint of impatience in his voice, even if she wasn’t sure exactly why she was determined to start an argument. “They’re already marrying us off, for God’s sake,” she practically screamed. “They’ve been dying for me to settle down and turn into one of them.” “One of who?” “Them,” she repeated with chilling emphasis. “Perfect little country-club yuppies with their perfect hair and perfect marriages and perfect houses and perfect children.” The wire-framed glasses were tossed unheedingly to the trunk that served as a coffee table and Eric’s sneaker-clad feet pushed them aside carelessly as he crossed his ankles in front of him. He folded his arms across his chest too and looked at her intently. “Let me get this straight. You’re pissed at me because your family liked me and I liked them?” She just scowled. That better not be a smile on his face, she thought murderously, or I’m going to wipe it off with that table lamp. “Somehow I can’t see you with a tennis racquet,” he told her with a betraying grin. “And if you ever chop off your hair and dye it blonde, I won’t speak to you ’til it grows back.” She flung a throw pillow at his midsection, hard. “That’s not what I meant. Did you see my sister’s house? Everything matches. Even in the kids’ rooms. I can’t live like that!” Now he looked genuinely confused and if her emotions weren’t in such a tangled mess, she might have taken pity on him and ended the fight. “So who ever asked you to? Just because they’re your family doesn’t mean you have to be the same. I promise you, Lori, if we ever do get married, I won’t expect you to turn into some robot housewife. Yuck!” He shuddered. Finally, she seemed to have gotten to him, because for the first time, he raised his voice. “How many times do I have to tell you? I. Am. Not. Warren!” “No, you’re not. He never yelled at me!” This time she shrieked. Eric looked shocked and then, to Lori’s intense dismay, he started laughing. Hard. In fact, he was doubled over, holding his stomach. She launched herself out of her chair and slugged him. Still laughing, Eric hauled her unceremoniously into his arms and buried his face in her hair until his humor subsided. Lori sulked. “What was that all about?” she groused, when he’d finally finished shaking. “You,” he told her, wiping his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve. “You’re trying so hard to pick a fight and you don’t even know what you’re pissed off about.” She glared at him through narrowed eyes. “Huh?”

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“Warren insulted you continuously,” he reminded her. “You told me that. So did your brother and your mom. Your family hated him, even though he’s the perfect yuppie you think they want to turn you into. You’re just freaked out because they think we suit each other and you’re afraid they might be right.” Damn the man, why’d he have to go and get insightful all of a sudden? Computer programmers were supposed to be social incompetents, weren’t they? She just sniffed at him imperiously. Which was hard to do when he was determined to kiss her out of her bad mood. “Eric,” she tried to complain. He just took advantage of her open mouth to slide his tongue inside and then it was all over. What was it about this man? Why did a single kiss make her forget? The next time her brain came up for air, their clothes were lying all over the living room floor and Lori was on her knees bent over the couch. Eric pressed tight to her back, still hard and still inside her, with his arms clasped tightly around her body. They were both breathing heavily. “We did it again,” he whispered ruefully, nuzzling the side of her throat. “Did what?” Her brain wasn’t really working yet. “Forgot protection,” he answered softly. Lori squeezed her eyes shut and let her face fall forward onto the sofa cushion. “Oh shit,” she agreed. “We did, didn’t we? Couldn’t this have waited until I get my prescription next week?” Eric turned her around, pulling her down into his lap as he sat sprawled on her living room rug, naked as a newborn. “So tell me,” he ordered gently, finger combing her hair. “How’s the timing?” Lori snorted. “A lot safer than it was the last time.” Eric raised one eyebrow in silent question, tipped her chin up so he could see her eyes. She nodded grimly. “Dead center. Couldn’t have hit it better if we were trying.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Would you mind?” he asked with a strange note in his voice that Lori didn’t even begin to want to analyze. She shuddered. “You mean besides the fact that I may not have a job come December and that asking for maternity leave certainly wouldn’t help my tenure review? Or the fact that we’ve known each other for a whole—what—two weeks? What do you think?” His eyes shuttered. In fact, he looked almost—hurt by her response. “Just keep me in the loop, okay?” he asked heavily. “Whatever happens, I need to know about it.” He still wasn’t looking her in the eye and for some reason that made her want to cry. “I’m refusing to worry about it,” Lori insisted. It was a lie, but one she had to keep telling herself if she wanted to stay sane for the next week or so. “Odds are, we’re okay. If not, we’ll deal with it when we know for sure.”

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Eric kissed her then, deeply. Later, as she was drifting off to sleep in his arms, she thought she heard him whisper, “I love you, Lori Tremain,” but she was too chicken to ask him to repeat it, so she just lay there, suddenly wide awake, wondering.

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Chapter Thirteen On Sunday morning, Eric was once again woken by the telephone, but this time it was his cell phone that bleeped noisily from where it had landed on the living room floor. Eric had turned off the ringer on Lori’s phone last night to prevent her from being upset by another threatening call. He must have been almost awake, he thought, or the sound of the signal, muffled by his discarded jeans wouldn’t have roused him. He dropped a kiss on Lori’s cheek and she didn’t even stir, so he closed the bedroom door behind him and padded stark naked out into the living room to find his phone—after he unearthed his glasses. Of course, the call had transferred to voice mail before he uncovered the damned thing. Annoyed, he dragged on yesterday’s jeans without buttoning them and headed toward the kitchen, wishing he hadn’t forgotten to buy a coffeemaker the day before. Oh well, one of Lori’s diet sodas would provide some necessary caffeine, so he popped one open and sat down at the table to check his messages. He glanced at the clock on the cell phone’s view screen. It was noon, give or take a few minutes. Damn, they’d really slept in. There was one call from his insurance company, which must have hit while he’d been recharging the phone yesterday morning. He’d forgotten to check his voice mail before leaving for the birthday party. Hell, it was Sunday, wasn’t it? The office wouldn’t even be open. He decided that he’d return that one first thing Monday. There were also three calls from David, placed at half-hour intervals starting at eleven. Apparently the first two hadn’t penetrated his slumber. He hit Dave’s number on the speed dial. “Yo,” he greeted after David had answered. “Whassssup?” “Not you, apparently,” David cracked. “Sleeping well?” Eric snorted. “None of your business, butthead. What did you want?” “Well, I was at a fantasy club meeting last night,” David began. “I found out some stuff about your would-be ‘dragon master’. Dude, you really need to let me know what’s going on. This whole thing is getting too weird.” “You don’t know the half of it,” Eric sighed. “We might as well get everybody together, there’s been some new developments. Meet me at the office in about two hours, okay? And bring a flashlight.” He hung up then, knowing that his last comment would pique Dave’s curiosity almost unbearably. There was no way that he’d fail to show up now. Draining the soda, Eric stood and headed toward the bathroom. He’d let Lori sleep a little longer while he took his shower. Then they’d round up Ben and Wesley, if possible, and go introduce Dave to the dragon. 118

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***** The look on David Garavaglia’s face when he first saw Drake was priceless. Lori knew she’d remember that stunned, incredulous, vindicated expression for the rest of her life. After talking to him for a while, Lori understood. For years, David had struggled with the fact that deep down inside, despite his intelligent, rational outlook on most of the world, he had believed in magic, in things that couldn’t be seen. It had fueled his interest in role-playing and fantasy. Drake’s existence proved him right. To his eternal disappointment, David had not been able to see Drake at first, but Drake had grudgingly performed the counterspell, as he had for Wesley and David, the lifelong fantasy addict, had finally laid eyes on a very large, very condescending bronze dragon. Drake did, however, humble himself enough to be somewhat amused by Dave’s t-shirt du jour, which read “How do I set a laser printer to stun?” Lori was really beginning to like Eric’s officemate. The real surprise of the morning had been introducing David to Ben and Wesley. It turned out that Dave and Ben had met, when their interests in folklore and fantasy had coincided. “You worked on the Madrigal Dinner last year, didn’t you?” David had asked the other man. Ben had confessed to doing a reading from Chaucer during the campus fund-raising event. “And you showed up in full Viking regalia, complete with a battleaxe,” Ben remembered. “Great costume.” Wesley had rolled her eyes. “Look, if we’re going to go sewer-crawling again, can we just get on with it?” Lori knew that her friend felt a little out of the loop, since she’d studiously avoided all things relating to folklore or English lit since her brief relationship with Ben. “Some of us have laundry to do.” Dave seemed a bit awed by the voluptuous blonde, so he shut up instantly. Ben just smiled enigmatically, which Lori knew irritated Wes even further. Paying attention to the tension between her two friends only seemed to remind her about the tension between Eric and herself, so she focused on David instead. By the time they reached Drake’s cavern, they were chatting like old friends and drawing irritated looks from Eric, along with amused glances from Ben and Wes. Once David had been filled in on the dragon’s story and brought up to speed, Eric grimly related the current wave of harassment, including Lori’s crank phone calls, the doctored photographs received by the campus newspaper and the vandalism to his apartment. Ben gave Lori a quelling glance when he found out about the phone calls. “Haven’t you ever heard of caller I. D.?” Lori flushed guiltily. “I called the phone company Friday. It should be installed first thing Monday morning.” “Either he doesn’t know yet about our involvement,” Wes indicated herself, Ben and David, “or he doesn’t find us threatening. Maybe that gives us an ace in the hole.” The others nodded. 119

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“Meanwhile,” Ben glared pointedly at the two women, “safety should be a priority. Stay together, or at least with others as much as possible, lock your doors and keep your cell phones with you at all times.” David grinned. “Guy comes after me, he’s going to regret it.” Ben smiled back. “Yeah. Me too.” “Oh, all this testosterone is making me sick. I’m just a helpless little ole black belt, whatever shall I do?” Her fake simper made Lori laugh and broke the tension of the moment. “So anyway,” Dave was telling them all, including Drake, a few minutes later. “The entire Fantasy Club thinks this guy has lost his marbles. He keeps telling them all these details about dragons that just don’t exist anywhere in the literature and he’s really onetrack about it. He won’t even talk about science fiction, unicorns, alternate realities or anything else, just dragons and frankly, they’re all sick to death of it. A friend of mine even heard him call himself the WYRM-master. So the other day, I went to this meeting and he showed up, right? Total nut case. I tried to get him talking, but it’s like he’s better than anybody else. He just kept saying that if they wouldn’t be his acolytes, then they’d suffer like the rest of the non-believers. Then he stalked out.” “This is definitely our guy,” Eric muttered. There was a chorus of agreement. “But how do we stop him?” “Or prove anything?” Wes noted. “There’s one other thing,” Dave added glumly. “He mentioned that the spell was nearly complete.” “So what could he do with you if he did manage to enslave you?” Wesley asked in curiosity. “I mean, I understand why you would want to avoid that outcome, but why would he want to do it in the first place? Can you make him rich, powerful, what?” Drake closed his eyes and shuddered. “Haven’t you heard the stories about dragons breathing fire?” Wes nodded. “Do you?” Drake smiled at her. “Let us just say that the campus wouldn’t last long enough for the fire department to arrive. Furthermore, I can fly great distances. Something like a surface-to-air missile. And I do not show up on radar or any other mechanical detection system.” They all paled, silently considering the devastation that such a force could wreak in the hands of a sociopath. “Plus, since you cannot be seen, you could feasibly steal almost any amount of wealth.” “Diamonds, gold, nuclear weapons,” Drake enumerated them with flicks of his lengthy talons. “Presidents, kings, whatever.” “Holy shit,” David murmured. “No wonder people feared dragons so much.”

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Drake nodded. “Oh, we do have our weaknesses—spells like the one this man is trying to acquire among them. A slow-to-nonexistent reproductive cycle is another. Plus, anyone with fairy blood is immune to our own protective spells. There’s more of you,” he indicated Lori, Ben and Eric with the flick of a wing tip, “out there than my kind once thought.” Ben spoke up. “There might also be more of your kind than you thought. I’ve been talking on-line with some people overseas. Contacts left from my, er, previous career. A couple of them are checking out any recent resurgence of dragon legends in remote areas. Turns out there have been some in a couple of places, like Tibet and Afghanistan. Drake, you might want to focus on those areas if you’re looking for others over the internet.” The look on the reptilian face was priceless. The fearsome giant took on, just for a moment, the countenance of an adoring puppy. Fortunately for Drake’s dignity, it didn’t last. “My thanks, Captain Montoya. You do me great service.” The formal speech was followed by a deep bow of the massive head. “So how do you get through the small doors of the corridors to get up to the surface?” Dave asked a question that they all thought should have been obvious, but that none of them had ever asked. “Can you, like, shrink yourself with magic?” Drake grinned, showing every one of his long, pointed teeth in the flaming lamplight. “I have a very flexible bone structure,” he replied, immediately drawing Lori’s attention. The herpetologist in her was endlessly fascinated by this new species of reptile that she could never, unfortunately, write a paper about. Drake must have read her mind, or at least her face, because he held out a wing. Lori toyed with the elaborate joint and skeletal structures that made up one section of the six-foot-wide wing, realizing that they could, in fact, be folded in almost any direction. “Wow,” she commented reverently, if not eloquently. “So why don’t you come up with us, we’ll order a pizza?” He looked again at Drake’s massive size. “Or six.” It had never occurred to Lori that Drake could meet with them aboveground. “What about the risks of being seen?” she asked. “I do go out, from time to time,” he reminded her. “There are not that many of you who can see me and most of them would not believe their own eyes if they did. Most of you tend to see exactly that which you expect to see.” They couldn’t argue with that. Since Lori’s lab was the biggest private office space any of them had, they ascended into the Life Sciences building, watching carefully for the prying eyes of the self-styled “WYRM-master”. Surprisingly enough, Drake did like pizza.

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Lori had forgotten to tell Eric about her gynecologist’s appointment on Monday morning. In fact, she almost forgot about it herself. She was filling up Q’s food dish when Wesley breezed into her office and plopped down at Lori’s desk. “So, how goes living together?” Wesley asked blithely, helping herself to a soda from Lori’s refrigerator. “Don’t you have something better to do?” Lori snapped. “Like maybe standing in front of a moving truck?” “Nope.” Wesley shook her tumbled blonde curls then turned to look at Lori’s desk blotter calendar. “And neither do you so—” She broke off. “Oops, I guess you do. Says here you have an appointment with a Dr. Zurak at nine forty-five.” She checked the clock. “It’s only nine twenty. If you hurry, you can make it.” Lori hurried. The office was only a few blocks from campus and she’d managed to park close to her building this morning. She barreled into the physician’s waiting room at nine forty-three. The routine exam was annoying but uneventful. The only hitch came at the end, while Lori was discussing prescription alternatives with the doctor. “Is there any chance you might be pregnant?” Lori flushed. “A small one.” The doctor, a short, compact woman with iron gray hair and friendly blue eyes, raised one feathery eyebrow but didn’t comment. “Don’t start the birth-control pills until two or three days after your period starts.” She checked Lori’s chart. “Let’s see, your last period started April first and you have a regular twenty-eight-day cycle. So you should start on the twenty-eighth. If you haven’t started by the first of next month, take a home test. They’re about ninety-nine percent accurate. Call the office for an appointment if it’s positive.” Lori was sort of hoping that the examining room floor would open up and swallow her. She was a science teacher for goodness’ sake. She, of all people, understood how reproductive cycles and disease vectors worked. Hell, safe sex was even a part of her regular Bio 101 curriculum. Having to admit to her carelessness was humiliating. By the afternoon, however, Lori was so busy that she managed to forget about the morning completely. She was swamped by preparations for the departmental picnic, students turning in final projects and a stack of exams waiting to be graded. When Wes popped into her office at four thirty, she was on the phone with the disc jockey for the picnic. “There!” she sighed triumphantly, several minutes later. “The picnic is ready. As long as I make an appropriate sacrifice to the weather gods, everything should be fine.” “All finished?” Wes asked. “I’m impressed.” Lori grinned. “Games are set, talent show is ready, the food will be divine and it’s supposed to be seventy degrees and sunny.” She thumped her fist on her wooden bookshelf for luck. “My final exams have been copied and are locked in a file cabinet for

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next week, I only have one more set of term papers to grade and my only grad student just passed his oral exams with flying colors.” She paused, thought and then added happily. “Oh and I sent off my research paper Friday night. I’m actually ahead of schedule for a change.” Wes smirked evilly. “All that and you’re getting some too. My, my, my, what a busy little bee you are.” She lowered her voice so that no one passing in the hallway could possibly hear. “You’ve got a new boyfriend, you’re playing with dragons, solving computer crimes, planning a picnic, bucking for tenure and dealing with the usual endof-the-year rush. What do you know? Maybe you can have a career and a life. Hmmm?” Lori darted a poisonous look at her friend. “Look who’s talking. When’s the last time you let anybody get close?” Wes shrugged off the comment. “We’re not talking about me. I know I’m messed up. We’re talking about you not screwing up the good thing you’ve got going with Eric because you’re panicking about tenure.” Lori looked at the pile of work she’d accomplished that day. She had managed to juggle everything, she realized with a little pride. Even with her doctor’s appointment this morning. “You’re right,” she admitted. Happiness and nervousness were mixed with astonishment. “Well, don’t go getting too smug,” Wesley replied dryly. “The week is young and it’s going to be a doozy. Have you gotten Marji a shower gift yet?” Lori gulped. “Oh God. I’d forgotten that the shower is Wednesday. What did you buy?” Wes’s wide blue eyes took on a decidedly feline gleam. “An incredibly tacky leopard print nightgown, with a matching black feather boa.” “Oh my God!” Lori laughed so hard her eyes began to water. “Warren will absolutely hate it.” “I know,” Wes practically purred. “I also bought the feathery spike-heeled mules to match and a teeny-tiny leopard print thong.” Even in the bedroom, Warren had always insisted on propriety and decorum. The man had absolutely no sense of adventure or fun. “You owe me thirty bucks for your half,” Wes added. “I figured it would be a joint gift.” Lori reached for her purse, handing over the money gleefully. “Have I mentioned that I adore you, Wesley Iversen?” she asked, still laughing. “They all do,” Wesley said with feigned fatigue. “It’s my curse.” Lori looked down at her desk blotter, trying to catch her breath. “It gets worse,” she remarked, all the laughter gone from her voice. “Wednesday the shower, Thursday is the president’s annual cocktail party and Friday is the picnic. What a week.” Wes groaned. “Don’t remind me. I can skip the party, but the shower and the picnic are must-shows. I hate departmental politics.”

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Every spring, the president of the university honored outstanding graduates. The awards were presented at an evening cocktail party held in the student center ballroom. Lori, like Wesley, normally avoided such stuffy campus events, but as a candidate for tenure, she was expected to fully participate in all the faculty events possible. “Besides,” she reminded Wesley, “Ben’s one of the graduates being honored, remember.” “Damn!” Wesley swore. “I suppose I should make an appearance.” That was progress, Lori supposed. A few weeks ago, the mention of Ben’s name would have only increased Wes’ determination to avoid the party. Maybe working with Lori and Eric on the WYRM problem was helping to mend the rift between Lori’s two best friends.

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Chapter Fourteen Eric stood in the living room of his house with his insurance agent, shaking his head. “They did a pretty thorough job,” the agent commented. “I don’t see any problem getting all this replaced. Carpet, paint, even the drywall repairs. You should have a check for content replacement in a couple of weeks. Meanwhile, just send us the bills from your cleaning service and repair crews.” Eric nodded. The cleaning service he’d hired had successfully removed the bulk of the mess. Anything that was salvageable was stacked in one of the spare bedrooms. He shook hands with the agent and walked him to the front door, still wondering what to make of this. It could be considered an opportunity, he guessed. He’d never bothered to make the place really his, after all. He narrowed his gaze at his living room, wondering how it would look filled with Lori’s green and white furniture and eclectic knickknacks. How did you go about asking someone to move in with you, he wondered. Back in his college days, he and Jenny had just sort of crashed together to share the rent. That wasn’t what he wanted from Lori. He was pretty sure now that what he wanted from Lori was commitment. The real-life, grown-up, happily-ever-after, ’til-death-do-us-part kind of commitment. The L-word and the M-word were both getting tangled up in his head. Whoa! It occurred to him that instead of going out to buy a new computer, maybe he ought to go out and buy a ring. The only reason he hadn’t already proposed was that she would probably turn him down. He wandered into the smallest of the three bedrooms, the one that had held all his workout gear. The treadmill was trashed and so was the weight bench, but all of the free weights were intact. There weren’t a lot of ways to damage large hunks of lead and nobody cared what color they were. The room was small, he noticed, now that it was mostly empty, but it was pleasant, with a large, southern-exposure window that looked out onto some flowering bushes that a previous owner had planted in the back yard. They were just starting to green up in the April sunshine and there were buds on them that would soon be blooms. Why hadn’t he ever paid any attention to them before? Lori found him there, still lost in thought. “I bet you’ll be glad to have your home gym back,” she said, smiling. “That’s an amenity that my place doesn’t have.” He’d noticed. Since he’d been bunking at Lori’s he’d been getting a very different kind of exercise. Granted, it was a lot more fun, but he wouldn’t mind being able to work out for real now and then as well.

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“Have you always worked out?” she asked curiously. He supposed that it didn’t really fit with the stereotypical image of a computer geek. “I was sick a lot as a kid,” he told her. “My mom tried hard to keep me inside and out of chills, drafts, puddles, whatever. By high school, I was the skinny, wimpy smart kid who got picked on a lot. I hated that.” Lori nodded sympathetically. He’d bet that with her studious bent, she’d never quite fit in during high school either. “Anyway, then my mom’s old doctor retired and she got this young guy. He took one look at me and my heart murmur and prescribed a membership at the local gym.” He shrugged expressively. “What can I say. Working out is a great way to blow off steam. I’m healthier now than when I was fifteen and by the end of high school, I was in good enough shape to hit back a time or two, which ended the problems with the school jocks.” She wiggled her eyebrows and licked her lips. “Besides, it looks good on you.” He grinned back and kissed her loudly. “Glad you like it.” Then Eric turned his attention back to the surviving equipment. “I was just thinking about moving my weight room to the basement,” he told her. “This room’s really too small for it.” He hefted a box with weight disks piled inside. “It’ll be nice to have a spare bedroom anyway.” That last bit wasn’t exactly what he was thinking, but it was close enough for government work. Lori nodded and picked up another, smaller box. “It’s a nice room,” she commented, looking around. “Some yellow paint would really pick up all that sunshine. Maybe a soft taupe carpet, some cheerful curtains.” Eric agreed. Lori had a real knack for making a place feel like home and he wanted her to feel at home in this one. Besides, he thought with a grin, yellow would be a great color for a nursery.

***** Dinner that night was pizza back at Lori’s place. Eric was still mentally arranging her comfortable furnishings into his newly refurbished house. “When’s your lease up?” he asked. Lori looked up, startled. “June, why?” Most rentals in a college community, even those not occupied by students, ran along the academic calendar. Eric shrugged. “Just wondering.” A few minutes later, he spoke again. “They’re installing the security system at my place tomorrow. I think we should both move in there until this whole business is over.” Lori wondered which business he meant, the computer virus or their relationship. Still, he had a point. She really didn’t want to be apart from him and she was a little bit afraid of Jason Zimmerman, if he really was the culprit, escalating the violence of his attacks. “What about paint and carpet and stuff?” she asked. “Furniture.”

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“Good point,” he acknowledged. “Carpet goes in next week, as soon as the paint is dry.” He’d hired a couple of students to repaint for him this weekend, she knew, even though she supposed they ought to be studying for their upcoming finals. Oh well, it was their decision. That was one of the benefits of teaching college instead of high school. The students were at least nominally adults, capable of managing their own affairs. She wondered idly if the same could be said of her. After moving the exercise gear to the basement this afternoon, she and Eric had gone through his house discussing colors and textures. When he’d insisted on forest green carpet in the living room, she’d begun to get suspicious. His next words confirmed her wayward thoughts. “We could move some of your stuff in,” he said slowly, as if testing her reaction. “If we’re both going to be staying there anyway.” Lori set down her pizza and looked up at him. Since she was sitting with her back to the couch on the living room rug and he was sprawled across the sofa’s length, she had to twist backward to do it. “Are you asking me to move in with you?” Her words were slow and it almost sounded to her as if they’d come out of someone else’s mouth. The idiot just shrugged. “Maybe.” Lori swallowed hard, not sure whether she was elated or insulted. “Look, Eric, could we maybe discuss this when I don’t have to be at a bridal shower for my exfiancé’s current bimbo in—” She checked her watch. “Oh shit, about thirty minutes.” Wesley would be here to pick her up in ten, she realized. Cripes, she didn’t even have time for a shower and after her classes, she’d put on jeans for helping Eric at his house. “Damn it all, Eric, I have to get changed.” She leapt off the floor and fled to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her as she went. Eric and Wesley eyed each other warily across Lori’s living room five minutes later. “I could make this completely uncomfortable and ask Ben to come upstairs,” Eric offered wryly. Wes laughed. She never giggled, Eric noticed. She had a deep, broad laugh that should have been masculine but wasn’t. She reminded him of a young Kathleen Turner and he would have definitely been attracted if he hadn’t been so busy falling in love with Lori. “I’m almost ready,” Lori called from the bedroom. They could hear the sound of drawers being slammed and shoes or something thudding around in the closet. Wes grinned. “Do you really want to be on time for this anyway?” she hollered back. “Take your time.” Eric looked seriously at Lori’s friend. “Watch her, okay? Don’t let the bimbo sink her talons in too deep.”

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Wes sent him a conspiratorial smirk. “Don’t worry. I have dirt on little Ms. Perfect. If she starts getting catty with Lori, all the rest of the women present will suddenly learn the name of Miss Marji’s personal electrologist. Seems she once had a bit of a mustache problem. Then there’s the tattoo on her ass. Wonder if the Weasel knows about it or if he only does her in the dark?” Eric’s smile was admiring. “I knew I liked you.” “Okay, how does this look?” Lori stood in the doorway, almost breathless. “Who cares?” “Great!” Eric’s heartfelt response and Wesley’s dismissal came at the same time and Lori shook her head. “I thought about wearing nice, funereal black, but I figured that might be a little too obvious, or they might mistakenly think I was the one mourning. So I decided to go with the ‘can we get this over with, I have a date tonight’ look.” She twirled, showing off the clingy hot-pink sheath that ended well above the knee. High-heeled black sandals showed off the fact that, as usual, she wasn’t wearing hose. “Perfect,” Wesley applauded. She was dressed in a simple red t-shirt dress that clung lovingly to her generous curves and Eric decided that the tall blonde and petite brunette made a pretty terrific-looking pair. “I’ll have her home early,” she called to Eric as she followed Lori out the door. Once they had left, the place seemed unexpectedly lonely. It wasn’t even seven yet and the evening loomed ahead, boring and empty. Maybe he ought to take advantage of the downtime and go get some new stuff for his house. Just as he was rooting around on the kitchen counter for his keys, there was a knock on the door. “Saw the women leave,” Ben told him, holding out a long-necked bottle dripping with condensation. “Make quite a picture together, don’t they?” Eric took the beer and motioned Ben toward a chair, then sprawled across from him. “Oh yeah! Walking wet dream. Think they know it?” Ben’s grin was rueful. “Wes does, Lori doesn’t. Too insecure.” Eric nodded, agreeing with the analysis, although admittedly, he didn’t know either of them as well as the other man did. “Probably a good thing we don’t want the same one.” Especially since Montoya could kick his butt from here to Detroit. “Oh yeah.” Ben lifted his beer in a toast and they clinked bottles. “Here’s to short skirts and high heels.” The phone rang, interrupting the moment of male bonding. Eric answered. “Finished the background check on Zimmerman,” David told him. “Meet you at the office, so we can go tell Drake?” “Sure, why not?” Eric responded. He had nothing better to do. Ben said the same thing, so a few minutes later they were driving together toward campus.

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Meanwhile, Lori and Wesley were being handed tiny glass cups of really bad punch. Lori looked over the hors d’oeuvres trays laid out in the banquet hall and fought down a wave of nausea. Shaking her head, she sat in one of the uncomfortable straightbacked chairs and smiled falsely at Marji. “Watching your weight, Lori?” Marji asked with false solicitude. “That dress does look just a little snug. I suppose now that you’re back on the market…” Lori started to say something, but Wesley beat her to it. “Odd, Lori. I was sure that Eric said he’d be waiting up for you. And he seemed to think the dress was just fine.” Penny Nolan, the oldest of the handful of female professors in the biology department, came and sat down on the other side of Lori. She eyed the dress. “Looks good. Most women can’t wear pink without looking like a ditsy ten-year-old.” Marji’s green eyes narrowed. Her own dress was a heavily ruffled concoction of pale pink silk with a darker rose print, but she wasn’t quite bright enough to be sure that she had just been insulted. At that point however, one of her bridesmaids leapt into the breach to avoid a scene and the bride-to-be was hauled off to greet some out-of town relative or something. Lori breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Thanks, Penny.” The older woman laughed. “Can’t stand the little bitch,” she whispered to Lori and Wesley. “But Richard thinks she walks on air and she’s his secretary, after all. Whole first semester she worked for the department, she kept leaving the “Doctor” off anything involving the female professors. Like only men can be biologists.” Their little gathering expanded to include the wives and girlfriends of a couple of their male colleagues and Lori greeted them fondly. Barbara Sutton was a pediatrician and Jennifer Ramirez was an instructor in the math department. Lori watched Barb curiously as she answered questions about her very obvious pregnancy. “I can’t wait ’til June,” she confided with a rueful grin. “It’ll be nice to be able to walk instead of waddle.” Lori eyed the other woman’s bulging stomach and wondered how it must feel to have another living person growing inside of you, especially when the event had been planned and longed for. She envied Barb her absolute happiness about the whole thing. Penny shook her short, steel-gray curls. “I envy you young women. In my day, career and kids just wasn’t a possibility.” Was that why Penny and her husband Rob, also a member of the biology faculty, had never had children? It seemed too personal to ask. “Not that we didn’t try, mind you,” Penny went on, answering Lori’s silent question. “Two miscarriages in the first year, then nothing.” She shrugged it off. “Probably all for the best. Rob and I got to go everywhere, do all our research together. It’s been good.” Since she was still happily married after more than twenty years, Lori had to believe her. It wasn’t unusual to see the older couple walking down the halls of the Life Sciences building hand in hand, or to see Rob give Penny a peck on the cheek as

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he left her office. Lori wondered if she’d ever be lucky enough to find a relationship like that. Then she wondered if maybe Eric could be it. “So what’s he like?” Jennifer’s question shook Lori out of her daydreams. “What? Who?” “Your new boyfriend,” Barb prodded. “Us old married types need some vicarious thrills, damn it, and Wes said that you have a new boyfriend. So spill it.” Lori glared at Wesley but complied, describing Eric in glowing terms, punctuated by occasional smart-aleck remarks from Wes. “He sounds great. Are you bringing him to the picnic?” Barb asked speculatively. “Jeff told me you’re putting it together this year.” Wes grinned at that one. “Yeah, Lori. Are you bringing him to the picnic?” Lori’s brown eyes widened. “Oh crap,” she muttered. “I never even asked him.” That drew another round of good-natured teasing and she forgot all about her discomfort about the whole bridal shower thing. They played silly games, ate dry crumbly cake and oohed and ahhed appropriately over the pile of gifts that Marji painstakingly opened without breaking too many ribbons. “Oh, just two kids,” she cooed after deliberately breaking the second ribbon on the very last package. “How perfect.” How very orderly, Lori countered mentally. She wondered idly if Warren already had their birth dates and genders picked out. Heaven forbid that nature should go against the great one’s wishes. She found herself watching Marji with something that resembled pity more than the annoyed resentment she’d harbored since Warren had so easily replaced her. Living with Warren would never be easy, even for someone without her own ideas. Lori was actually even able to smile when the woman thanked her and Wes for the “gorgeous peignoir set”. “I can’t wait ’til Warren sees me in it!” she gushed happily. “Thanks so much for not being jealous!” “Warren and I were never right together, Marji,” Lori said honestly and with more warmth than she might have been able to manage a few weeks earlier. “You two really deserve each other.” Wes managed to wait ’til they had left the building before she laughed out loud over Lori’s parting remark. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the unvarnished truth!”

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Chapter Fifteen David showed up at the office bearing two large cardboard cartons. “What’s that?” Eric asked. He checked the hallway for traffic before unlocking the steam tunnel entrance. David handed Ben one of the boxes. “Uggh!” Ben commented. “Heavy.” Dave refused to answer until they were settled on cushions with Drake in his cave. “Social lubricant,” he announced, opening the larger of the two cartons. “Beer!” Drake grinned his dragonny grin. At least by now Eric had learned that it was a smile and not the sort of toothy display that would lead directly to disembowelment. Dave tossed the mini-keg to the dragon. “Here’s your share, old buddy. Enjoy.” The smaller box proved to contain a twelvepack of a decent English stout. Drake used one lethal-looking talon to puncture the small plastic barrel, then lifted it to his mouth and drank thirstily. Moments later, he sighed loudly and licked the foam off his chops with his long, forked tongue. “Excellent,” he complimented David, whose battered gray sweatshirt read, “Any connection between your reality and mine is purely coincidental”. “So anyway, Jason Zimmerman is the great-grandson of one Harold Zimmerman, who was a stonemason in the 1920s and definitely worked for the college on various projects,” Dave confirmed after taking a long slug from a can of stout. Southern Michigan College hadn’t become a university until the 1950s. “Great-granddad hung around ’til the mid-eighties too—long enough to dandle young Jason on his knee.” “And fill his little head full of dragon stories,” Ben continued. “By the way, I think I’ve figured out most of the spell components that our buddy Jason has put together. He shouldn’t leave the info on his office hard drive, when he’s not the only one in the department who knows how to pick a lock.” He pulled a floppy disk out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Eric who was fiddling around with Drake’s laptop. Fortunately, since there was no electricity in the cave, Drake had ordered a handful of battery packs. “Burn one ounce of dried dragon’s bane…” he read. “What’s dragon’s bane?” “A plant, moron,” David replied. “Wolfsbane, or monkshood, to be specific,” Ben noted in a scholarly fashion. “Also known as mandrake. Very toxic.” “Combined with one half-ounce St. John’s wort…now that, I’ve heard of.” “Commonly used as an antidepressant,” David remarked. “Probably included here because it affects the mind. Go on.” His Wiccan religious beliefs included a propensity toward herbal medicine and the traditional uses of various plants. 131

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Eric listed another handful of ingredients that were supposed to be burned together in a ceremonial brazier, which, Dave explained to him, was probably just a consecrated hibachi in this day and age. Bronze candles were to be placed at each of the five points of the pentagram, signifying the type of dragon. “How many types are there?” Dave asked curiously. Drake shrugged. “As far as I know, one,” he grumbled, belching sulphurous beer breath. “Me. Once there were several—maybe a dozen or more. Green, gold and bronze were the most common in Europe, while several other varieties lived in Africa and the Far East.” “Then there’s a chant,” Eric continued. “It’s not in English.” Ben looked over Eric’s shoulder at the small computer screen. “Latin,” he pronounced. Then he began to read. “Bend thy will, bend thy might, surrender all to master’s command,” Drake translated. “It doesn’t rhyme in English.” The rest of the incantation involved calling on various powers of the universe and enjoining them to help subjugate the magical beast. Finally, there was a blank spot where the dragon’s true name would have to go. “Very effective,” Drake said sadly when Eric had finished listing the gestures and rituals to be completed. “He’s been a revoltingly thorough little villain. All he needs is my true name and I’ll belong to him, lock, stock and barrel.” He held up his now empty keg. “How shall we stop him? I warn you gentlemen now that I’ll simply kill him if it comes down to that.” Eric winced. “Messy. And the cops would probably start looking at us, which wouldn’t be the best of ideas. What’s Plan B?” Ben looked thoughtful. “Didn’t you say he had to be within a certain distance for the spell to work? Couldn’t Drake just leave?” Dave shook his head. “Still too dangerous to leave Zimmerman on the loose. He’d try to find Drake and he might not mind using one of us as a hostage to do it.” Eric concurred. “The way I see it, we need to bust him for the computer hacking. If he’s in jail, he won’t be able to find Drake to enslave him.” He also wouldn’t be able to hurt Lori, or any of the others, which was Eric’s priority. “If I can get him here,” Drake murmured thoughtfully, “we may be able to cast a small spell of our own. One of forgetfulness.” “I thought your spells couldn’t work on anyone with elven blood,” Ben returned. “They don’t,” Drake agreed. “But yours might.” They all stopped talking and stared at Drake. Damn, Eric thought, he’d only had one beer, so he must have heard correctly. “Whose?” “Yours,” Drake explained patiently, much as Eric might try explaining the internet to a particularly slow freshman student. He pointed to Ben and Eric in turn. “You, you and Lori, together. Power of three and all that. You all have the blood, the inherent ability.”

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Eric popped the top on another beer can. Him, casting a spell? “Shit!” Ben nodded slowly. “Possible, I suppose. I’ll see what I can find in the literature, unless you already know the spell?” he queried. Drake shook his massive head. “No, but I’ll find one. You need to figure out a way to get the Zimmerman creature into my cave. Preferably without his spell components.” “I’d like to keep Lori out of it,” Eric mused. “But she’d probably have my head if I tried.” “Yep,” Ben agreed. “Wesley, too. That’s the problem with falling for smart, independent women. They don’t need you to protect them,” he mused. Eric remembered how he had felt the first time he’d seen the handsome Latino sitting with Lori. Was it only a few days earlier? It would have never occurred to him that Ben had his own women problems, like any other guy. David snorted. “At least you’ve got women,” he muttered, stretching out his thick, camouflage-covered legs. “I haven’t had a date in six months.” Drake belched loudly, which, given the size and power of his lungs, meant that the reverberations shook the very walls of the cave. “At least you know that females of your species exist,” he pointed out, one-upping David. “I, on the other hand, haven’t had a female in over eight hundred years.” “Okay, you win,” Eric conceded. “But having them in proximity doesn’t make it easy,” he added glumly. “Especially when they don’t want anything to do with you,” Ben supplied. “Then proximity is pure hell.” For the next hour or so, they sat together, drank beer and bitched about women. Even Drake had a few choice comments to make, although the females involved were probably long since dead. All in all, Eric thought, driving home later, it had only needed a hockey game to be a perfect guys’ night out. He was still perfectly sober, of course, having limited his intake since he was driving. Besides, once Drake had started in on the remaining cans, there hadn’t been many left for the humans. He pulled into the driveway, glad he’d had the chance to get to know Ben a little. Lori’s friend was as hopelessly in love with Wesley as he was with Lori herself. Ben slapped him on the shoulder in newfound camaraderie. “Lucky bastard,” Ben muttered. “Bitch all you want, but at least yours is up there waiting for you.” Eric grinned. “Yep!” His reply was cheerful as he mounted the stairs toward Lori’s apartment. She was definitely up there. And scared to death of commitment, poor thing. “See you tomorrow,” he called back over his shoulder. He was whistling when he used his key, his key, he thought happily, to let himself in. Lori was surprised to see Eric’s car gone when she got back to her apartment. “Want to come up?” she asked Wesley, who declined.

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“I hate playing third wheel,” the blonde replied. “And Eric could be home anytime. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Don’t forget the cocktail party,” Lori reminded her friend. “It would mean a lot to Ben if you showed up.” Wesley cursed under her breath. “I’ll be there,” she grumbled. “Not that he’ll even notice.” Lori just laughed. Her spirits were so much higher than they had been earlier in the evening. She was actually looking forward to telling Eric about Penny Nolan’s catty remarks and sharing some of the other gossip and conversation from the evening. It was kind of fun, she realized, to have somebody other than an iguana to come home to. An hour later, she had revised her opinion and was mentally plotting various methods to kill Eric and dispose of the body. Where was he? She’d tried his cell phone, but then she heard it ringing from the bedroom. He’d obviously forgotten it, since it was still clipped to the belt that he had left attached to the khakis he’d been wearing for work that day. She’d tried calling Ben too, to see if Eric had mentioned anything to him on his way out, but Ben wasn’t home either, although his ancient pickup was parked in its usual place in the double drive. Maybe they were out together. She liked that thought. It would be nice if Eric and Ben became friends. As if she’d conjured them with that last thought, she heard the sound of Eric’s car on the roughly paved asphalt drive. Sure enough, that was soon-to-be Dr. Benjamin Montoya climbing out of the passenger seat, as Lori watched from the living room window. She saw Ben slap Eric on the shoulder in the typical guy fashion. Lori dropped the curtain and darted over to the sofa. She was curled up pretending to read a book a few seconds later when Eric waltzed in. Eric was glad that Ben had reminded him about the cocktail party the following night, or he’d have forgotten all about it. Like most programmers, he supposed he had faint antisocial leanings and he had studiously avoided this sort of event for the last several years. Lori’s neighbor had reminded him, however, that Lori, as a tenure candidate, was probably expected to go and after the first beer, he’d let it slip that he was one of the students being honored. Eric was suddenly glad that his one and only suit had been at the dry cleaners and thus survived the wreckage of his home. Besides, he reasoned, it would be his first chance to attend a university event with Lori on his arm and the idea filled him with pride. She was smart, she was pretty and damn it all, she was going to be his, as soon as he could overcome her doubts and worries. “You look amazing,” he told her, for about the fiftieth time, as they walked into the ballroom. She was, to his pleasure, holding onto his arm, but her other hand was fidgeting with her skirt. “You’re sure this isn’t too short?” she asked worriedly. “Warren would have had a fit if I’d shown up in something like this.”

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“Warren was, is,” he corrected himself quickly, “an asshole. The dress is perfect and you look great.” What the dress was, he decided, his warm gaze sweeping her from head to toe, was Lori. There was just no other word for it. It was short without being risqué and cut conservatively, in a basic sleeveless sheath. The deceptively simple design, however, took on a whole new life when it was beaded from top to hem with iridescent bugle beads in all the blues and greens of the sea. She’d swept her hair up in a silver clip and it was all Eric could do to keep from kissing that adorable bared nape or playing with her dangly silver and aquamarine earrings. He felt like a swallow compared to her peacock in his conservative charcoal suit, white oxford-cloth shirt and the new red striped tie he’d purchased that afternoon to go with it. “Oh look,” Lori smiled. “There’s Ben. And Wes is actually talking to him. Come on.” They headed over to meet her friends, or perhaps, Eric mused, to play referee. Wesley was obviously on her best behavior, however, and she was cheerfully introducing Ben to other faculty members. “So the army’s loss is academia’s gain,” she told a dark, thin man with a neat black beard. “He’s had offers at Indiana State and Colorado, but he wants to stay in Michigan. He’ll be teaching at the community college starting next fall.” “Family responsibilities,” Ben agreed. Eric remembered that Ben’s father had cancer. The loss of his own father, almost a decade earlier, still hurt and he empathized with the other man. Spying their approach, the dark-haired stranger’s thin lips narrowed into a semblance of a smile. “Ah, Dr. Tremain, I’m happy to see you made it. Are you acquainted with Mr.…” “Captain Montoya,” Lori supplied warmly. “Why yes, he’s a neighbor of mine. And, of course, it will be Dr. Montoya after next Saturday.” Ben shook Eric’s hand and kissed Lori on the cheek. “Thanks for coming, chica, Eric,” he said. His dark eyes raked Lori’s vividly clad form approvingly. “You look magnificent.” Wesley echoed the compliment, as if daring the small, prim man to argue. “Oh Richard,” she cooed sweetly, which Eric figured ought to send out instant alarm bells in the brain of anyone even remotely familiar with the real Wesley Iversen, but which the older man seemed to ignore. “I don’t believe you’ve met Dr. Gordon, from Computer Sciences, have you? He’s a particular friend of our interim president. Eric, this is Richard Vandecar, our department chair.” Ah, Lori’s boss, who was such a big fan of Warren the Weasel. Eric shook hands, politely tamping down the urge to wipe his hand off on his trouser leg afterward. “There’s Chuck,” Eric told Lori, just loudly enough for Vandecar to overhear. “Let’s go say hello.” Charles Zalewski was the political science professor who had been named interim university president after the retirement, under dubious circumstances, of his predecessor. He was a big fan of increasing technology in academia and so he and Eric had had long discussions about the campus computer network, even before the

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WYRM virus had become such a problem. Eric liked and respected the man and hoped that the Board of Trustees would see its way to selecting him as the permanent president. “I doubt he remembers me,” Lori was telling him sotto voce. “I’ve only met him once and it was in a huge crowd.” “Well, after seeing you in that dress,” Eric offered, green eyes twinkling down at her, “he shouldn’t be able to forget you. Besides, I just wanted your boss to see you mingling with him. Chuck’s okay. I think you’ll like him.” She did, Lori discovered, almost to her own surprise. Having spent so much time avoiding university politics, it hadn’t occurred to her that she’d actually enjoy the company of someone who excelled at it. “So, Eric tells me that our hacker has also targeted you,” the neat, well-built man of forty-five or so told Lori. “I’m sorry that you got caught up in it and I’m glad the police are now involved.” “I understand,” she told him, smiling. “It would have been nice if it could have remained an internal matter, but once Eric’s house was vandalized…” Of course, the man could have no possible idea of what else was going on and how much of the WYRM issue would remain a strictly private matter. “It was a pleasure to meet you again,” she told him sincerely, as she spotted another group eager to mingle with the president. “Since last year, when you won the outstanding teacher award,” he reminded her and Lori was surprised at his memory for names and faces. His smile reached all the way to his eyes. “Eric tells me you’re up for tenure this year. I’ll be sure to remind Richard that teaching is still the largest portion of a faculty member’s job and that quality instructors are what keep us in business. It’s the least I can do to apologize.” Eric grinned as they walked away. “Told you you’d like him.” There was a band playing, Lori noticed, still in a bit of a daze. She barely blinked as Eric led her out to the dance floor then took her in his arms. “This ought to give them all something to talk about,” he whispered teasingly. She looked up into his eyes and grinned. “Dancing?” “No, this.” Eric’s husky words broke off as he lowered his head to kiss her slowly and deeply. By the time the kiss ended, Lori was too dazed to be embarrassed. “What was that for?” she asked breathlessly, unable to tear her gaze away from his. “Fun,” he replied. “That and your ex was staring at us like we were insects. I figured we ought to make it worth his while.” Lori chuckled softly. “What ex? There’s nobody here but us.” She meant it, she realized happily. She hadn’t even noticed Warren’s presence, although of course he would be here. At this moment, she really didn’t care about anyone but Eric.

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They danced until the band quit playing a couple of hours later. Lori had had all the mineral water and cheese tidbits she could stand and she and Eric had spent a lot of time introducing each other to various colleagues. When Chuck Zalewski had awarded the plaques for the outstanding graduates, they had both cheered loudly for the students, especially Ben. Lori noticed that Wesley was staring fixedly at the man who loved her, her gaze misty and uncertain, which was a rare occurrence with the usually self-assured Wes. It was Eric, however, who noticed a little later when the two of them slipped out together. “What’s up with that?” he asked Lori. They stood on the patio just outside the ballroom, getting some air and watching the stars just beginning to emerge from the dark spring sky. “I have no idea,” she admitted, laughing softly. “Maybe we set too good of an example.” She yawned then and tried to hide it with her hand. “You’re beat, aren’t you?” he asked, suddenly solicitous. “Between work and this WYRM business, you’ve run yourself ragged.” “Not to mention a new relationship,” she teased. “Yeah, I’m tired, but it’s okay. I’m caught up with everything and managing to juggle it all.” She punched him lightly in the shoulder. “It’s just that somebody’s been keeping me up at night.” Not that she regretted Eric’s lovemaking in the slightest. Each time they came together, she learned something new about the way men and women were supposed to connect. He stood slightly behind her with his arms linked loosely around her waist and his chin resting on the top of her head. She leaned comfortably back against his chest. “I could be with you like this forever,” he whispered, his already low tone muffled by her hair. Lori was stunned. Was that a proposal, or an off-hand comment? She stiffened in his arms, suddenly insecure all over again. Unfortunately, at that moment, she was overcome by yet another massive yawn. “Well,” Eric said briskly, disengaging himself. “Time for good little girls to be home and in bed. Let’s go say good night, Gracie.” So they did. They made a point of saying goodbye to both Richard Vandecar and Chuck Zalewski, then Eric bundled her into the passenger seat of his car. She fell asleep on the short drive home, but woke as soon as Eric pulled into her bumpy driveway. “Did I remember to invite you to the picnic?” she asked sleepily as she crawled into bed—alone. “Yes, you did,” he assured her with a kiss on the tip of her nose. His big hands gently tucked the covers around her t-shirt covered shoulders. “I’ll be there. With bells on, if you want. Now sleep.” This time he kissed her on the mouth, sweetly, but without passion. “I’m going to borrow your computer for a while to go on-line.” She smiled contentedly, snuggling down into her soft, fluffy pillow. “Okay,” she sighed. “Come to bed soon, okay?”

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“Soon,” he assured her, as he turned off the light. “Sleep tight, sweetheart.” He closed the bedroom door behind him then moved into the tiny nook that served as Lori’s home office. He wished he were at his own place so he could go work out and burn off some of the frustration caused by putting her to bed without him, but he wasn’t about to leave. He dialed up the campus network server and checked his email automatically, saving the now-familiar threat from the WYRM hacker and deleting a bunch of spam. He replied automatically to one or two routine messages, including one from Dave. There was also a note from Drake, which made him smile. How funny life had gotten lately, he mused. Two weeks ago, he was just an ordinary professor with an ordinary life. Now, he was a computer-detective with elven blood and he was pretty much living with a terrific woman, who might or might not be carrying his kid and who might or might not be willing to marry him, either way. He’d also made friends with one of the world’s last living dragons. He shook his head at the enormity of the whole thing. Maybe it was all a dream and he’d wake up to discover he’d fallen asleep at his desk—something that he used to do before he had any incentive to leave the office at the end of the day. For the last couple of weeks, however, he’d been splitting at five on the dot, because the end of the day meant being with Lori. He shut down the computer and climbed into bed beside a soundly sleeping Lori. Her soft snores assured him that nothing short of an earthquake would wake her, but he unplugged the bedside phone just in case. Then he snuggled up and draped his arms around her sleeping form. God this was good, he thought, as he began to drift off to sleep himself. This was what life was all about.

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Chapter Sixteen Lori’s guts were tightly tied in the proverbial knot as she checked over the lastminute preparations for the biology department picnic. She’d slept soundly all night, but she was still a little bit tired and out-of-sorts. Nerves, she told herself firmly. The caterers were putting the finishing touches on a lavish but simple buffet, two graduate students were setting up the first of the children’s games and the disc jockey she’d hired was performing a sound check on the rustic wooden stage provided by the local state park. “Relax, everything is perfect.” Lori whirled, startled by the sound of Wesley’s voice in her ear. “There you are!” She grabbed her friend’s arm. “You’re late!” Wes had agreed to show up early to help Lori make sure that everything was ready. Wes checked her watch with a smirk. “Yeah, two whole minutes. Chill out, Lori. Everything’s fine.” Lori nodded and brushed a stray lock of silky brown hair out of her eyes. “I know,” she acknowledged wryly. “But I’m a wreck, I can’t help it. Where’s Eric?” Wes led Lori over to the buffet and pressed a chilled bottle of mineral water into her hand. “Tapping the keg,” she replied. “Ben’s helping him, so I think you can safely assume they’ll manage it without your direct supervision.” Lori nodded then took a long draught of the blessedly cool water. “Wait a minute,” she cried, jumping up off the picnic bench Wes had pressed her down on. “Ben’s here?” Wes shrugged. “So I brought a date,” she equivocated. “Sue me.” This bit of news actually succeeded in distracting Lori from her pre-picnic nerves. She sat back down. “A date?” she asked hoarsely. “What gives?” Wes slumped to the bench beside Lori and took a drink from the plastic glass in her hand. Lori suspected immediately that the contents were much stronger than her own water. “We got talking last night at the reception,” Wesley began. “And then, well, we ended up back at my place. Later, we talked a lot more.” “And—” Lori prodded. “And you were right. I have been a chicken. A huge, yellow, cowardly chicken. I don’t exactly have a great track record with relationships, so I’ve tended to avoid them, just fool around. Ben isn’t the fooling around type, though, so I got scared and took off.” “But you really care about him,” Lori intuited. “So this time, you let him catch you.” Wesley nodded. “I’m scared to death, Lori,” she confessed. “Scared to death.”

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“I know the feeling,” Lori commiserated, looking across the grassy parkland to where the two men were standing by the freshly tapped keg. “Oh God, here comes Richard and the little woman,” Wes noted, mockingly using the man’s own phrase to describe his very pleasant wife. “Wonder what she sees in the old goat?” “No clue,” Lori agreed, pasting on her most welcoming smile as she stood and wiped her damp hands on the seat of her khaki shorts. A lightweight sweater in a bright shade of coral at least lent a hint of color to her pale, drawn complexion. Thank God the weather had cooperated today. Seventy degrees and sunny was almost too much to hope for in April, but someone upstairs must have decided to cut Lori a break, because it was looking like a beautiful day. “Good morning,” she called to the Vandecars. She glanced behind her to receive a thumbs-up from the caterer and a friendly nod from the disc jockey. Good, everything was ready. “Can I get you something to drink?” Lucia Vandecar smiled back. “Everything looks lovely, Lori. It was sweet of you to volunteer this year. I’m sure it’s going to be a fabulous picnic.” Volunteer, hell, she’d been drafted. Still, it wasn’t really anyone’s fault and she had managed rather nicely, she thought, patting herself on the back a little, while Wesley made small talk with the chair and his wife. “Lucia, I’d like you to meet Eric Gordon, from the computer science department and Ben Montoya, who will be teaching English at the CC this fall. Ben, Eric, you’ll remember Richard Vandecar and this is his wife Lucia.” The older woman allowed herself to be instantly charmed by the two pleasant young men and even Richard glanced around with polite approval. “Nice job, Lori,” he acknowledged. “Are the games and the talent show all ready?” She smiled confidently. “Of course. Your clipboard is behind the podium, with the speech Marji provided and a list of the acts. Lucia has graciously volunteered to be senior judge as usual and the grad student association is running the games for the kids.” He smiled then and Lori felt a huge surge of relief. She’d passed, at least for the first round of testing. “I hear you got your paper in the mail,” he told her, still smiling. “Congratulations.” Another group of picnickers pulled up then and things got busy. Lori spent the entire afternoon running around like crazy, but it didn’t escape her attention that she had three very active helpers. Whenever possible, Wes, Ben or Eric took over a task, freeing Lori to oversee the whole. By the end of the day, she sat cross-legged on top of a picnic table and sighed deeply. “Done,” she announced, mostly to herself, as the caterers and the deejay loaded their respective vehicles. “Even Richard was pleased.”

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“You did a good job,” murmured a soft voice next to her ear. Big, warm hands began to knead the tense muscles of her neck and shoulders. “Now maybe you can relax for a few minutes.” Lori snorted. “Yeah, ’til next week when finals start.” Eric chuckled and wrapped his arms around her and she leaned back into his comfortable embrace. “Everything loaded up?” she asked. Eric had been overseeing the graduate students who were packing up all the leftover game supplies and prizes. “Yep,” he assured her. “All packed up and everybody’s gone home but us.” “Even Wes and Ben?” “Even the lovebirds,” he told her with humor. “They couldn’t wait to take off. How’s that for an exciting weekend?” She smiled. “Nice. He’s been in love with her for a long, long time. She loves him too, she just wouldn’t admit it, especially when he was a student. Now that he’s just about done, I think it makes it easier for her.” “Your throwing them together on the WYRM thing didn’t hurt,” he added. “Kept her from hiding from him.” They sat quietly for a few moments, enjoying the relative stillness of the now empty park glade in the early twilight. Finally, Eric stood and hauled Lori to her feet beside him. “Come on, slugger,” he told her. “Let’s get you home before you fall asleep this time.” Poor kid, he thought. She’d been running on pure adrenaline for the past couple of days and now she was crashing, hard. He made a mental note to stop for take-out on the way back to her place. Then he led Lori, unresisting, to his car, which had already been packed full of picnic paraphernalia.

***** An hour later, Lori climbed out of her bathtub, put on sweats and padded into the living room, where Eric was typing on her computer. “Anything up?” she asked sleepily. “Just a message from Dave,” he replied, snaking an arm about her waist to draw her closer. “He found a great deal on a new computer system for me.” Of course, she realized, Eric still needed to replace most of his belongings. A few minutes later, he shut down the machine and joined her on the sofa. “I brought this up Wednesday, but the timing sucked,” he began, playing idly with a throw pillow in his lap. Lori plucked it away from him for safekeeping and then smiled when he took her hands in his instead. This time, he played with her fingers, which she considered a vast improvement. “And I know I didn’t say it right.” He paused then swallowed deeply. “I mean, the thing is…I know we’ve only been together for a really short time but…” 141

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She took pity on him. “But it’s been nice, living together like this,” she suggested softly, happily. It still scared her to admit it, but she had to tell him the truth. “It does feel right.” “So you will…I mean…” His grip on her fingers was almost painfully tight and his nervousness helped banish her own. How did he manage to be so sweet and still entirely masculine at the same time? It was a combination that was pretty much impossible to resist. Besides, somehow, without realizing she was doing it, she’d fallen in love with him and it was time to admit it, at least to herself. “Yes, I’ll move in with you when my lease expires, if you still want me to,” she told him warmly. “I’d like that very much.” “I’m glad,” he told her, a trace of rueful humor creeping into his voice. “But that’s not what I was going to ask,” he began, then shook his head, grinning. “Not all of it, anyway.” She tilted her head and looked up at him, confused. His voice was low, now and a little husky. “I was going to ask you to marry me.” Lori’s eyes bugged out. “Marry you?” she cried. That wasn’t what she had expected—not even close. “You’re kidding!” She regretted those words the minute they were out of her mouth. She’d hurt him, she realized instantly. “I mean, I’m flattered,” she temporized, trying to soothe. Tears started to gather in her eyes and even she wasn’t sure why. “But are you really sure…” Eric dropped to one knee in front of the couch. “Lori Ann Tremain, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” She sat there for a moment, sure that her mouth was hanging open and hoping that the tears weren’t going to start falling. Then she reached out and laid both hands on his shoulders. “But…why?” She prayed that he wasn’t just asking because he thought she might be pregnant. Although she could appreciate his sense of honor, she wanted very badly to believe that this proposal was just about the two of them. “Because,” he told her tenderly and kissed her softly on the lips. “I want to wake up beside you for the rest of my life. I can’t explain it, but it’s just…right between us.” He reached up and very gently brushed away the single tear that had escaped to roll slowly down her cheek. His already husky voice deepened even further. “I know it’s been fast but, sweetheart, I know it’s what I want. I’ve never felt this way before in my life. I love being with you, I miss you whenever I’m not and no matter how often we make love, I can’t stop wanting you. I’m pretty damn sure I never will.” “Even when I’m old and gray and fat?” she asked, teasing a little. She hoped that he couldn’t hear the tremor in her voice. “Even when you’re old and beautiful,” he corrected. “And I’m bald and blind, with fake knees and a pacemaker.” Lori sighed. “We’re probably crazy,” she told him.

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He grinned back, tentatively, as though he was starting to believe that she would accept him. “We’re definitely crazy, that’s part of the attraction. Sane people are boring.” Lori laughed then leaned forward to hug him tightly. “Are you sure about this?” He growled in her ear. “Positive.” She wished he’d told her that he loved her, though. That was the only thing missing. After her disastrous engagement to Warren, she was reluctant to commit to another man. No, she told herself firmly. Eric loved her. His happiness at her answer was a good indication that he did. “Then, yes, I’ll marry you.” Eric whooped joyfully then dragged her off the couch and into his arms. “How soon?” This was going to be the sticking point. “After December,” she answered firmly. That would give them both enough time to be really sure and make sure the wedding date came after her tenure review. After all, if the review went poorly, she might have to move and she had no idea what would happen between them then. “If that’s what you want,” he answered slowly. He seemed to be genuinely disappointed and her heart went out to him. “It is,” she interrupted, stopping his lips with the gentle touch of one index finger. “I don’t want to be planning a wedding and worrying about tenure at the same time.” Then she went out on a limb so high it scared her half to death. “But I’ll move in with you as soon as your house is ready.” He kissed her then, long and hard and deep. It was several minutes before he came up for air, then spoke. “Tomorrow I’m buying you a ring,” he growled. “I wanted to have it first, but I forgot.” She laughed in glorious delight. She liked the fact that she could keep him just a little off-kilter. To her, that meant that he cared enough to make her more important than his own well-planned agenda. “It doesn’t matter,’ she assured him. “It will be fun to pick it out together.” Then she regarded him as sternly as her glowing smile would permit. “As long as it doesn’t have anything to do with ‘investment value’.” He laughed back and kissed her again. “Since I don’t expect you to ever sell it, it can hardly be an investment, can it?” His comment echoed her beliefs exactly. Eric was so completely unlike Warren, she realized joyfully, and so very perfect for her. When he picked her up to carry her toward the bedroom, she smiled lasciviously and wormed her hands up under his shirt. “You have too many clothes on,” she complained as he laid her gently on her unmade bed. They’d made love before the picnic, she recalled, with a satisfied grin and hadn’t had time to straighten up before they’d left. “Besides,” Eric had pointed out correctly, “we’ll only mess it up again later.” His touch was so gentle, so reverent, that it almost brought fresh tears to Lori’s eyes. His big hands were trembling when he reached out to lift her tank top up over her head. 143

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“Every time we’re together, I think I couldn’t possibly want you any more, that it couldn’t be more perfect,” he told her, dropping tiny sucking kisses along her collarbone. “But then the next time comes, I need you even more and somehow, impossibly, it gets even better,” he told her. “I can’t imagine ever getting enough of you.” She shimmied out of her sweatpants, then she leaned back, naked, against the pillows, reveling in his closeness, in his fascinated gaze. Her nipples were already hard and aching, even though he had yet to touch them and the heat of his regard already had moisture pooling between her unconsciously splayed legs. “You’ve still got too many clothes on,” she whispered huskily. He straightened immediately and shucked his jeans and shirt. Then he grabbed a condom from the mostly empty box they’d left lying out on the nightstand and sheathed himself before lying down beside her. “Better?” he asked, tracing her collarbone with his tongue and running his dexterous fingers down her spine. “Mmm-hmm,” she answered, giving herself over to the pleasure he always managed to rouse. He trailed his tongue down to one turgid nipple and flicked it lightly. She moaned, half in pleasure, half in pain. Her nipple was apparently still tender from Eric’s enthusiastic attentions earlier in the day. “Sore?” he asked tenderly, laving the offended bud gently with his tongue and lips. “Sorry if I got too rough this morning. I need to take better care of my toys.” Lori smiled and wrapped her own fingers around his pulsating erection. “I wasn’t complaining at the time, was I?” she reminded him, stroking him up and down as he arched into her hand. The latex barrier annoyed her, but she was careful with it and moved her hands down to cup his balls, which were drawn up tight. “Not complaining now either,” she sighed. Eric’s clever fingers had parted the nest of dark curls between her thighs and were expertly stroking the slick, swollen flesh. Her hips rose up off the bed and she arched her back, thrusting her sensitive breast deeper into his mouth. Obligingly, Eric suckled gently, while he slid first one, then two thick fingers up inside her. “You are so wet,” he told her, blowing gently on her dampened nipple, then shifting his body slightly so he could pay homage to her other breast without dislodging his magical fingers. “So hot, so responsive.” “Only with you,” she told him, whimpering slightly. He stopped his stroking and gathered her close, pressing a sweet, hard kiss down on her puffy lips. “Mine,” he growled possessively. “You. Are. All. Mine.” It wasn’t a question, but she answered him anyway. “All yours, Eric. Only yours.” He kissed her again as he moved between her legs and Lori lifted her hips to guide him home. Then he filled her and the rest of the world ceased to exist. “Eric!” she cried, arching upward to meet each of his slow, powerful thrusts. When his control broke and he started slamming into her with everything in

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him, she shattered, screaming out his name again as the world exploded around her. He held her there at the pinnacle for a while, still pulsing around his engorged shaft, still throbbing with pleasure, then with one more frantic thrust, he sent her over the edge again, crying out wordlessly as he reached his own release. Eric woke Saturday morning, hard as a rock and wanting Lori. His fiancée. Damn, that sounded good. She was sleeping so deeply, though, so peacefully, that he didn’t have the heart to wake her, not even with kisses. She needed a day off, he decided, after all she’d been doing lately and he was a little worried that she’d been running herself into the ground. The bedroom phone was still unplugged, he noticed, so he slipped quietly out of bed, drew on a pair of baggy cotton gym shorts and moseyed on out to the kitchen for coffee. At least he’d finally remembered that amenity, he reminded himself with a smile. A brand new French press gleamed on the counter next to an electric coffee-grinder and he quickly heated water in Lori’s bright copper kettle. It was nearly eleven, the kitchen clock told him and Eric plopped himself on the sofa with the television remote and a stack of projects to grade, more content than he could ever remember being. There were no messages on the answering machine, which disturbed him a little. Their late-night caller was either slipping, or else he’d shifted his tactics, which meant that he’d be striking again somewhere else. Eric didn’t like the sound of that. He was restless and made little headway on the stack of student programming assignments. He couldn’t wait to get to the store and get a ring firmly around Lori’s finger. He wasn’t shy about admitting it, he wanted the whole world to know that Lori was his woman. Maybe next weekend they’d go out with a few friends to celebrate and, of course, he’d have to take her down to Detroit to tell her parents. While Eric was busily making happy plans, Lori stumbled out of the bedroom. “Uggh,” she greeted him grumpily, shoving a lank strand of hair back out of her face. “What are you looking so cheerful about?” He dragged her close for a kiss, which she returned half-heartedly. “We’re engaged, remember?” Lori slumped onto the arm of the couch. “Right. Engaged. Again.” She rubbed her eyes and managed a small smile. “Let’s just fast forward from now ’til December, okay? I’m tired of the in-between parts.” He grinned and tugged her closer. “We don’t have to wait,” he reminded her. “We could fly out to Vegas as soon as finals are over.” He wasn’t exactly sure why, but it was horribly important to him to lay claim to her now, as quickly and as thoroughly as possible. Lori shook her head. “My mother would shoot you. Besides, if…” she broke off with a huge yawn. “If what?” he prompted a few seconds later.

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She looked confused, as though she’d forgotten her train of thought. God she was adorable when she was only semiconscious. He resisted the urge to kiss her until she was completely senseless. “If I don’t get some breakfast and caffeine, I’m never going to wake up,” she finished. “Is there any food out there?” Looking critically at Lori’s face, Eric decided that she didn’t need any more pressure from him right now. Her always-pale skin was as dull as he’d ever seen it and the little lines beside her eyes were tightly drawn. She had been pushing herself way too hard lately and he felt guilty for adding to the strain. “I’ll get you some breakfast,” he told her. “You just sit there and vegetate for a while.” He dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead as he headed toward the kitchen and he missed her warm, misty-eyed smile. Eric was such a darling, Lori thought, contentedly snuggling into the corner of the couch. She heard the sound of cupboard doors banging. Warren had never tried to fix breakfast for her and she couldn’t help comparing all of Eric’s warmth against her former fiancé’s coolness. Every instinct she possessed told her that Eric was her natural mate and that she’d only dated Warren in the first place because she’d been flattered by the attention of such an upwardly mobile, good-looking man. Getting engaged to Eric was completely different from getting engaged to Warren, she reminded herself firmly. Warren had wanted her for some sort of social trophy. Eric wanted her for herself. There were only two—no, make that three—things that still bothered her, that kept her from really believing that this engagement would end up in happily-ever-after. The first was job-related. Eric was tenured, he’d have no reason to ever leave SMU. Lori wasn’t yet. If her tenure were denied, she’d be required to leave, to find another position, somewhere else. She wasn’t sure that any relationship could survive that sort of tension. Would Eric be willing to move with her and commit what amounted to professional suicide, or would he expect Lori to find some sort of other job within a reasonable commute, which was extremely unlikely? Lori was too overwhelmed right now to ask, but that was the main reason she’d insisted on waiting until after December. The other problem was that Eric still hadn’t told her that he loved her. Oh, he’d implied it, in any number of ways. She knew he worried about her, knew that what he felt for her was more than a physical attraction, but was it love? Lori had thought she loved Warren, for example, now she knew better. The love she felt for Eric was a rare and precious thing and she couldn’t bear it if he didn’t feel the same. She knew she ought to force the issue, but she was feeling too fragile right now to broach the subject. She’d give him some time, she figured, then, when things settled down a little, they’d have to talk. Then, finally, there was the other issue that she refused to talk about. Her period was due tomorrow. She’d already started getting the early-warning signs, so she was fairly sure that everything was on schedule. She rarely got real cramps, but she did occasionally suffer from a sort of mild, achy tenderness in her tummy and lower back. It was really more of an awareness of those areas than anything else. Furthermore, the 146

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discomfort never started more than a few hours ahead of her actual period. Since she’d woken up feeling bloated and cranky this morning, she figured that her worries on that score should be over by dinnertime. She certainly wasn’t having any morning sickness, she thought jokingly as Eric came back into the living room carrying a plate of scrambled eggs and a toasted bagel smothered in cream cheese. A glass of orange juice was balanced on the plate, as well. The food smelled wonderful and Lori’s appetite was its normal healthy self. A few minutes later, she drained the last of the juice and actually smiled at Eric, finally awake and alert, even without caffeine. “Much better. Thanks.” He kissed her again, this time with a little more urgency. “I’m glad. Now go get dressed, before I peel you out of your robe and we end up spending the whole day in bed.” “Would that be such a bad thing?” she asked curiously, but she stood and turned toward the bathroom as instructed. His grin warmed her heart. “No, it would be a very good thing, but we’ve got some shopping to do. I really want to buy you that ring.” The shopping was going to have to wait awhile, they discovered about half an hour later as they stood in Lori’s driveway. They stared disconsolately at Lori’s car, Eric’s SUV and Ben’s truck. “Every single tire,” Eric spit out, swearing viciously. “Son of a bitch.” Ben joined them in the yard, his curses coming out in a mixture of English and Spanish as he examined the slashed tires on all three vehicles. A scantily clad Wesley, looking tousled but satisfied, watched from the porch. “Tomorrow,” Eric vowed and Ben nodded his agreement. “This ends tomorrow. We’ll meet with Drake tonight, set a trap and spring it. I don’t care if we use the cops, the university or Drake’s fire-breath, but we’re going to finish this once and for all.”

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Chapter Seventeen They didn’t end up meeting with Drake until Sunday. By the time the cops had finished taking the report on the vandalism, tow trucks had arrived to take all three vehicles to the tire center and David had been drafted into chauffeur duty, it was close to dinnertime and they were all too annoyed to think clearly. “So far, there’s been nothing but property damage,” Ben pointed out calmly over Chinese take-out in Wesley’s upscale condominium. “But if he starts to get too worried, I can see this guy upping the stakes. It’s not a big leap from trashed houses and slashed tires to physical violence.” Dave was playing with his laptop, after blessing Wesley for having a Wi-Fi modem. “Looks like he’s getting ready to make a break for it,” he grunted, snagging another slice and washing it down with a beer. “The WYRM’s been speeding up his embezzlement rate. Time to do some serious hacking, boys and girls. If he’s getting this worried, he may be getting sloppy.” “Can you do that from here?” Lori asked curiously. She was curled up in a ball in the corner of Wes’ couch, sipping soda and nibbling on a breadstick. Dave shook his head. “Most of my really good equipment is back at the office and that’s a place he knows about. I’ve probably got enough back at my place, though.” “So far, David and Wesley are the only two of us that Zimmerman, if it is him, doesn’t know about,” Eric noted. “Neither of them has gotten any ‘warnings’. It might be better if we stayed apart, at least from Dave, and didn’t draw his attention.” “Cool,” David interjected wryly. “I get to be the secret weapon.” His t-shirt that day was ridiculously appropriate. In bright red letters on a black background, it read, “I’m sorry. My powers can only be used for good”. “If he was watching Lori and Ben’s house this morning, he saw both of us,” Wes pointed out. She was toying with a beer bottle and Ben was watching her like a hawk. Eric wondered idly if his own protectiveness of Lori was anywhere near as obvious, then decided that it probably was. Strangely enough, he didn’t really care. He wanted everyone to know that Lori was his woman, that’s why he had been in such a hurry to buy a ring. Damn it, tomorrow was Sunday and the jewelry stores wouldn’t be open. Yet another reason to be pissed. “I think we should all stay here tonight,” Ben added thoughtfully. “Wesley has a spare room and this place has security locks on the building, as well as a guard in the parking lot.” Eric shook his head. He wanted nothing more than to spend tonight and every night with Lori, but he knew that Ben was more than capable of protecting both

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women. “I’m going with Dave,” he announced firmly. “Between the two of us, I think we can maybe set a cyber trap for our WYRM master.” Lori looked disappointed but seemed to understand. “Be careful,” she admonished gently. “You guys don’t know where he’s watching.” Eric smiled thinly. “Somehow, I still see this guy as a physical coward. I doubt he’ll try anything.” But Eric hoped he did. Catching the guy in an outright physical assault would be enough to get him arrested and out of their hair. Besides, it would give Eric and David the opportunity to beat the living hell out of the creep. Neither of them had been in Special Forces, like Ben, but they were both in good shape and used to mock combat from their sword-fighting and paintball games. Those “games” provided better training than most people realized. That’s why all the survival nuts started them in the first place. No, Zimmerman wouldn’t try anything on Eric and Dave tonight—that would be just too convenient. Eric desperately wanted to get his hands on the asshole who’d been threatening Lori. “We’ll meet at Wesley’s office at ten tomorrow morning,” Ben told Eric, walking him to the door. “It’s on a different floor than Lori’s, so it isn’t likely to be watched.” “And we sneak down to the steam tunnels from there,” Eric agreed. “Hopefully, Drake will have that spell thing worked out,” Dave added. “Then all we’ll need to do is get Zimmerman into the cave.” Eric pursed his lips. “I wish we could do this without Lori,” he murmured quietly enough that his voice wouldn’t carry back to the women in the living room. “She’s wound so tight these days.” Ben nodded. “Half the problems with her department chair come back to the Warren-Marji connection. It’s occurred to me to kick the shit out of the esteemed Dr. Chamberlain, but Lori would never let me. Besides, I suppose that honor would belong to you these days. However…” Ben’s black eyes narrowed menacingly. “Hurt her again and I’ll mop the floor with you instead.” Eric grinned ruefully. “You mentioned that the other night. Over beer, at Drake’s place.” He realized then that in all the confusion of the day, they’d never told their friends about their engagement. “Hell, man, I want to marry her, not hurt her.” The other two men looked at him in surprise. “Shit,” David breathed. “What’s she say about that?” Eric knew that he was grinning from ear to ear, but he didn’t care how stupid he looked. He feigned a nonchalant shrug. “She said yes. We were going out to buy a ring when we found the cars.” Dave whooped and high-fived Eric. “Way to go, buddy!” Ben grinned broadly and swatted Eric on the shoulder. “Lucky bastard!” He dragged Eric by the sleeve back into the main living area. Lori was red, with embarrassment, Eric assumed, and Wesley was gazing at him speculatively. “Yo, Wesley. Got any champagne?”

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Wes chuckled. “Back of the fridge, behind the beer. I bought it yesterday, to celebrate Ben’s graduation.” She turned that piercing blue gaze back on Lori. “Something you forgot to tell me, Lori?” Lori’s flush deepened and Eric crossed over and perched on the back of the couch, his hands on each of Lori’s shoulders. “Guess we did forget, huh, sweetheart?” he prodded. She nodded. “I was going to wait ’til we got the ring,” she answered softly, looking up and locking her eyes with Eric’s. “And we haven’t even told our families yet either,” she continued, placing one hand in his and turning back to the others. “But yes, Eric asked me to marry him and I said yes.” Wes leapt out of her chair to hug both Lori and Eric, just as Ben returned to the room, carrying five flutes of champagne. Toasts were made and the talk turned to wedding plans. “I was thinking Valentine’s Day,” Lori suggested softly, sipping lightly at her champagne. Eric didn’t want to wait that long. “How about New Year’s? Then we’ll have a couple of weeks for a honeymoon.” Classes didn’t start back up ’til the middle of January. He didn’t want to wait that long either, but he was determined to respect Lori’s wishes. “Okay,” Lori agreed. “New Year’s Eve it is.” They all clinked glasses again. Lori looked at their three friends. “Mark your calendars.” “Wouldn’t miss it, chica,” Ben said warmly, but wrapped an arm around Wesley. Dave picked up Wesley’s Siamese kitten and looked soulfully into the feline blue eyes. “Well, Ralph, I guess that just leaves you and me.” “Really?” Wes drawled. “You’re neutered too?” The room exploded in laughter. Lori looked at Wes and Eric could have sworn he saw her wink. “What do you think, Wes? David and Wendy?” Wesley grinned and Eric was reminded strongly of Dr. Seuss’s Grinch—the real one in the cartoon, not the actor who’d remade the classic. “Oh yeah,” Wesley returned evilly. “Definitely Wendy.” Eric wasn’t sure if he was glad or worried because he didn’t know who they were talking about.

***** Finally, Eric and David were allowed to leave and Ben had been dispatched to fetch overnight bags for both Lori and himself. The two women remained curled up in Wesley’s cozy living room. “So you’re engaged again,” Wesley remarked neutrally. “Happier about it this time?” Lori shrugged. “If it works,” she answered cryptically.

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“Why wouldn’t it work?” Lori fidgeted nervously with the stem of her still half-full champagne flute. “I don’t know. I’m not really good at maintaining relationships.” She’d be devastated if she ever found Eric getting tired of her the way Warren had. Losing Warren had hurt her feelings and her self-esteem. Losing Eric would crush her soul. Wes snorted. “Stop assuming that breaking up with the Weasel was a bad thing. Getting out of that relationship was self-preservation. Eric’s different.” “So is Ben,” Lori pointed out. “And look how long you’ve been dodging him.” “True.” Wes nibbled on her lush lower lip. “I guess that leaves me unqualified to give advice, but I’m going to do it anyway. Quit waiting for him to change. You keep acting like any minute now he’s going to turn into Mr. Hyde. Sooner or later it’s going to piss him off.” Lori nodded reflectively. Was that really how she treated Eric? After a few moments of thought she realized that it probably was. “Can I trust my own judgment?” she asked her friend. “That’s the real issue, I think. Eric seems so open, so caring, that it’s almost too good to be true.” Wesley laughed. “No guy is perfect, Lori. Eric’s going to have his flaws like any other guy and I bet, if you think about it, you already know what they are. You’ve just subconsciously decided that they don’t outweigh the good stuff.” Flaws? Eric? Lori considered the possibility, then smiled. “He’s a slob,” she conceded. “And when he gets on the computer, it takes a nuclear blast—or at least a nearly naked girlfriend—to bring him back to reality.” “And can you deal with that?” Lori nodded again. “Yeah, I think so. We’ll fight about cleaning up the house now and then, but I think we’ll get past it. My big fear is that if I don’t get tenure, I’ll have to leave Kilkenny.” “So what?” Wes asked pointedly. “So Eric has tenure. Why would he want to leave?” “Because you’re as important to him as a job,” Wesley answered simply. “That’s what it comes down to, Lori. Do you trust him to put you first? Because if you don’t, you should break it off now and spare both of you the hurt.” “I know.” Lori’s whisper was agonized. “I want to trust him. I need to trust him. And I’m just not sure I can.”

***** The group that met the following morning in Drake’s cave was grim and determined. There was also a certain sense of relief. During the course of the evening, Zimmerman’s embezzlement activities had peaked. He was apparently running scared, as Ben had predicted. Fortunately, he had also gotten sloppy. Eric and David had

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collected more than enough evidence to link him to the criminal activities of the WYRM virus. “Now all we need to do is to get him here,” Dave announced with a broad grin. “Then we can turn him and the evidence over to the cops.” His long-sleeved t-shirt was worn and frayed and today’s catchy slogan was short and to the point. “You! Off my planet!” Lori just couldn’t keep her eyes off Eric though. She’d spent the whole sleepless night in Wesley’s guestroom thinking about him. She loved him so much, but it was hard to take the risk of trusting someone with her heart after it had been so badly damaged by Warren. She knew she had to make the leap, though. She loved him. He’d shown up this morning with his hair still shower-damp, bearing a big box of doughnuts, a thermos of Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee and, bless his heart, a cold oneliter bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper. Her heart did a flip inside her chest when he looked at her with those bright green eyes, red-rimmed from lack of sleep, and smiled affectionately before planting a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek. “Missed you,” he’d whispered in her ear. He was wearing the same jeans he’d had on the night before, but he must have borrowed the old gray sweatshirt from Dave. It hung loosely on Eric’s thinner frame and the sleeves were way too short, but the words it bore made Lori smile. “Don’t bother me. I’m busy living happily ever after.” She hoped it was prophetic. “Do you have the spell?” Ben asked Drake anxiously. Without that, none of their plans would work. Drake nodded his huge, scaly head and pointed one razor-sharp talon toward his laptop. The small, glowing screen was covered with the arcane phrasing. It was corny, but at least this time the spell was in English, thank heavens. “If this works, my friends, young Mr. Zimmerman will forget everything he has ever known about the true existence of dragons and myself in particular. He will still be cognizant of his criminal activities, he will simply forget the reasoning behind them.” “Perfect,” Eric commented harshly. “Then we can hand him and the evidence over to the cops and this whole mess will be over with.” Drake lifted one talon in caution. “However,” he added gravely, “if the spell should fail, I will be forced to kill him. The knowledge he possesses is simply too dangerous to both dragon and human kind.” They all nodded seriously. Ben spoke for them all. “Understood.” The unleashed power of dragon magic being wielded on an unsuspecting world was too scary to contemplate. It was much like remembering that there were bad guys out there with access to nuclear weapons, only in this case, they actually had the power to do something about it. It was a sobering responsibility. “I will, of course, make sure that there will be no chance of his disappearance being connected with any of you,” Drake added, with his most regal nod. “And I trust each of you, absolutely, to maintain your silence about the events of the last few weeks.”

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Lori smiled. “Of course, Drake, we all understand that. Still, it would be best if we can get Zimmerman here and make the spell work. That way, no one will have to be hurt.” “Naturally,” the dragon agreed. He gazed thoughtfully at the assembled group of scholars. “How do you propose to lure him into our clutches?” They all looked at one another helplessly. Wes snorted. “Honestly. A gazillion degrees between us and we can’t manage the most basic of plans. It’s simple, really. What do we have that Zimmerman wants?” “Drake’s true name,” Eric replied automatically, stating the obvious. “Duh!” Dave responded, slapping himself on the forehead for not realizing that sooner. “So that’s our bait.” “One of us contacts Zimmerman, offers to turn traitor and trade Drake’s true name for a cut of the cash,” Wes extrapolated. Ben gave her a sizzling look of approval that had the others looking away in embarrassment. Lori just grinned. “But how do we get him down here?” she puzzled. “He’ll know that Drake is down here and assume it’s a trap.” Lori shook her head. “He needs to be close to Drake to work the spell. We make that a part of the offer. Our traitor meets Zimmerman, gives him a phony name and then leads him to his intended victim. Once he’s in Drake’s lair, we can hold him down, then read our spell instead.” “When?” Dave asked, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Lori shook her head at his bloodthirsty enthusiasm. The problem, though, was that tomorrow, Monday, was the first day of final exams. For four professors and a graduate assistant, this was going to be an awfully busy week. “Tonight,” Eric’s determined tone brooked no argument. “I want this over. Before the asshole escalates to physical violence.” “He’s right,” Lori concurred. “The sooner the better.” They all nodded in agreement, even Drake. “I should be the traitor,” Ben announced coolly. “I’ll set up the meet. Of the three of us he knows about, I’m the likely defector. Everybody knows that graduate students always need money. Besides, I’ve had the most experience with covert operations.” There was no arguing with that, they all knew. “Dave and I can tail you,” Eric added. They’d done enough sneaking around in paintball games to be pretty good at it. “Lori and Wes can wait here with Drake.” Lori bristled, but Wes spoke up. “Before you decide to circle the wagons and hide the wimmen, let’s get the meet set up. After we know when and where we can decide how to run the operation.” Lori grinned at her forthright, take-charge friend. “We’ll need a Wi-Fi or modem line,” Dave pointed out. Drake’s cave had a number of amenities, but it did not boast either a wireless network or phone service. “I guess we have to head topside.”

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“We can’t use my office,” Ben pointed out logically. As a teaching assistant, he shared his tiny cubicle with two other doctoral candidates. “But the message has to come from me, not one of you guys. I hate to use a public lab though.” “Drake’s closet,” Eric remarked with a grin. “As far as I know, Zimmerman’s never been there.” Having agreed, they all made their way carefully down the corridor, carrying Drake’s computer equipment. Once they had reached the Harrison Hall subbasement, it took them only moments to set it up and get their plan in motion. “He’s agreed,” Ben told them a tense few minutes later, after receiving Zimmerman’s email reply. There was no trace of any emotion in his voice and the lack of it made Lori shiver. He was all warrior now, with none of the warmth or friendliness that Lori had grown to respect. She decided that she liked him much better as a folklorist. Even Wesley was regarding her lover with a certain degree of wariness. “We’re meeting here, in this corridor, at six o’clock tonight.” “We can all be waiting here then,” Lori mused. “The rest of us can hide in this room with the lights off.” Drake, who was standing in the hallway, since his bulk wouldn’t have allowed the five humans to share the small closet, harrumphed. “I suppose I could wait down around the bend in the hallway,” he allowed grumpily. Ben objected. “That would work if Zimmerman came down the stairs from Harrison,” he replied curtly. “But he may be arriving via the steam tunnels. In that case, he’d encounter Drake in the hallway and know that this was a trap.” They were forced to agree. Ben would meet with Zimmerman alone. David would hide in the closet as backup and the others would wait in Drake’s cavern. “You know, that still leaves nearly six hours,” Wesley pointed out after they had moved themselves and the computer back to Drake’s den. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m kind of hungry. I also have work I need to get done today.” They all nodded and muttered agreement. There were exams to prepare and papers to be graded. “We go in groups.” Ben barked out commands like a general. “Wesley and David can go for food, since they are the two least likely to draw Zimmerman’s notice. Once they get back, we can make quick trips to our offices for paperwork. Use your cell phones if you get into any trouble.” Since all of them had phones clipped to their belts, staying in contact would not be a problem. “I need to feed my lizards,” Lori added, then shifted uncomfortably. “And use the ladies’ room.” Too much Dr. Pepper. “While they’re getting food,” Eric added agreeably, “the three of us can practice the spell.” His gesture indicated himself, Lori and Ben.

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“Good idea,” Lori concurred. “We certainly don’t want to mess that up.” She squirmed again and this time Eric seemed to notice. “But I still need to find a bathroom.” Her bladder felt like a balloon about to burst. Eric sighed indulgently and shared a male-superiority kind of glance with Ben. Lori would have smacked him if his grin hadn’t been so cute. “We’re almost right beneath the Business school,” he noted. “There should be a janitor’s lav in the basement.” That made sense, she thought. If they stayed underground, they were less likely to be seen and followed by their quarry. “I suppose I need an armed escort?” she asked dryly, getting to her feet. “Which one of you mighty warriors gets to defend the helpless maiden on her epic journey to the restroom?” She knew it made sense to stick together, but she hated being the helpless one. When all this was over, she was going to make Eric teach her to shoot. Since Wes and David had already slipped out on their food-finding mission, Eric just shared his smug male grin with Ben and Drake. “Not my female,” the dragon muttered acidly. “Come on, wench.” Eric smirked and this time Lori did slug him as he stood and tugged her to her feet beside him. “You carrying?” Ben asked Eric almost casually. Lori was shocked when Eric nodded, then she looked closely and saw that the baggy sweatshirt did indeed hide the automatic pistol tucked carefully into the waistband of his jeans. Being escorted by an armed guard, even if he was her fiancé, was a new and disturbing experience for Lori. She was pretty sure, however, that Eric wasn’t much enjoying the experience either and his next words confirmed it. “Look,” he began as they activated the hidden door and emerged into the steam tunnels, “I’m really sorry about getting you into all of this. I mean, if I’d had any idea…” She wasn’t sure why his words bothered her, but they did. Was Eric having second thoughts about their relationship already? “Any idea of what?” she asked pointedly. “That we’d meet an honest-to-God dragon? Discover we both have fairy DNA in our gene pool? End up engaged? Are you sorry about all of it, or just the pesky little part about trying to stop a would-be wizard with delusions of taking over the world?” Put like that, it sounded so outrageous, they both had to laugh. The sound of his amusement warmed her heart. Maybe he wasn’t too upset about everything that had happened in the past few weeks. “Just the last bit, I suppose,” he answered with rueful amusement. He swung her around so that he could kiss her fiercely. Lori responded to his kiss with everything she had inside her. The minute their lips touched, she wanted nothing more than to find an empty room and drag his clothes off. Judging by his passionate fervor, he felt the same. “I missed you last night,” he murmured huskily when they finally came up for air. “It’s a good thing we’re moving in together. I can’t sleep when you’re not with me.” “It’s only been two weeks,” she reminded him, although she agreed. When his shoulders sagged, suggesting disappointment, she hugged him tightly. “But I couldn’t 155

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sleep last night either.” She wondered fleetingly if he could hear the lump in her throat. Then she wiggled. “Eric? Can we pick this up again after we find the bathroom?” He chucked fondly. “I guess I know where I rate.” He opened the door that led toward the Business Complex. He poked his head and the flashlight through the opening, then turned back to Lori. “Coast is clear, milady.” This part of campus was newer than the administrative or science buildings and there was no subbasement. Lori followed Eric up a narrow metal stairway, then through another steel door into the basement proper. A long, wide hallway was lined with cinderblocks and, sure enough, one of the first doors they came to was a unisex staff restroom, right across from the door euphemistically labeled “Facilities Management”. Lori ducked into the washroom hurriedly while Eric stood guard in the hallway. A few moments later, smiling with pure physical relief, she stood watch while he took advantage of the facilities. “We’d better head back,” she told him reluctantly, accepting the hand he offered as they made their way back down the narrow stairs. “If we take too long, they’ll worry.” Eric grunted his agreement. “I know. Have to wait ’til tonight to get you to myself.” They retraced the rest of their steps in comfortable silence. Later, after they’d all devoured the submarine sandwiches, chips and chocolate chip cookies that David and Wesley had obtained, they split up into smaller groups to raid their offices for paperwork to pass the afternoon. Ben, who already had a stack of work in his backpack, walked with Wes and Lori to the Biology department. “Just drop me off,” Lori suggested. “I’ll feed and water the critters while you two go up and get Wes’ stuff.” Ben shook his head. “Don’t worry, Dad,” Lori teased. “I’ll lock the door behind you and wait for you to come back and get me.” Either Ben couldn’t come up with a reasonable argument, or else he really wanted a few minutes alone with Wes. After a quick visual check of Lori’s office and lab, he reluctantly agreed. “Make sure you lock it,” he instructed sharply. Then, as soon as it was closed behind them, either he or Wesley tested the knob, just to make sure. Lori smiled at her friends’ concern and she actually found herself humming a cheerful little song as she opened the mini-fridge to get the mealworms for the geckos and vegetables for Q. “Ten minutes,” Ben hollered through the door. “Okay,” Lori yelled back. She placed the salad into the iguana’s cage and retrieved his water bowl, still humming. By tonight, Zimmerman would be in custody, tomorrow she and Eric would shop for rings and they’d have the whole summer to work out any kinks in their relationship. She turned off the tap and turned back toward the lizard cage, both hands holding the full glass dish. “Put it down and put your hands up.” Lori shrieked. She tried to do as she was instructed, but her hands shook so much that she dropped the bowl, which shattered on the aged asphalt tile. Water and glass

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flew everywhere. Lori jumped back instinctively, her hands held out in front of her chest, then she looked up into the cold, dark eyes of Jason Zimmerman. It was the first time she’d actually seen the man, she realized with a certain sense of detached irony. She’d been working for weeks to thwart his plans, but she’d never actually laid eyes on him personally. He looked younger than she’d expected, even though she knew from both Eric and Ben that Zimmerman was only in his midtwenties. His stringy, dark brown hair was long and straight. Both his coloring and his high, sharp cheekbones hinted at his Native American ancestry. There was a scruffy goatee on his chin that was just a little longer than the dark stubble that surrounded it and he wore a shabby red plaid flannel shirt and ripped jeans. What scared Lori the most wasn’t the squat black automatic pistol in his outstretched right hand, however. It was the expression in his eyes. She’d seen that expression before in the course of her animal behavior research. He looked just like a domestic animal that had turned wild. Feral. She shivered. She’d always assumed it but now she knew. Jason Zimmerman was not quite sane. Lori moistened her lips, willing herself to speak calmly. “You must be Jason.” She hoped her unsteady knees were going to continue to hold her up, because she was pretty sure that he wasn’t going to let her sit down. “Congratulations, Doctor Tremain,” he sneered. His voice was higher pitched than she’d noticed at first and reedy. “Maybe you’re smarter than you look after all.” Lori had no idea how to respond to the insult, so she didn’t. Why, oh why had she let Ben and Wesley leave her in here alone? “How did you get in here?” she asked, curiosity rearing its head in spite of the danger. Besides, wasn’t it supposed to be a good idea to keep the bad guy talking? It always worked for James Bond. “I waited,” he told her, shaking his head at her lack of understanding. “Your friend didn’t think to check the supply closet.” Of course he hadn’t. The average man, and Ben was bigger than average, wouldn’t have been able to fit in the tiny closet. Zimmerman’s moderate height and extreme slenderness had worked in his favor. “How’d you know I’d be coming here?” she asked, licking her lips again. Apparently, terror leached all the moisture out of one’s skin. Any other time, she’d find that observation interesting. “You feed your damned lizards every day,” he answered tiredly. “You people are just so-o predictable.” He shrugged. “Although I expected Gordon to be here too. Finally wear him out?” Lori shrugged helplessly and Zimmerman laughed. It wasn’t even a good, villainous evil laugh, she thought crossly. This whole detached, observational side of her brain was a little disconcerting. She glared in response to his weaselly giggle. “This is even better though,” he allowed unpleasantly. The grin, Lori decided, was the real thing. He had a truly evil smirk. She shivered again. “You can lead me to the

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dragon. The beast fancies itself as a noble creature. It will provide its true name in order to save the pudgy little damsel in distress.” This time the insult managed to provoke just a little bit of Lori’s fighting spirit. Pudgy, indeed! Eric called her luscious! “What makes you think that?” she asked her captor disdainfully. How long had it been? Would Ben and Wes be back soon? Lori fervently wished that the window on her door wasn’t covered up with paper, so that her friends could see inside. She was a little afraid that their knock would startle the lunatic into using his weapon. Jason shook his head, as though disgusted by her rampant stupidity. Her rational half agreed with him. Why couldn’t she think of something useful to do? Unfortunately, the terrified half of her brain was firmly in possession of the body.

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Chapter Eighteen “Let’s go!” Zimmerman ordered curtly. He gestured toward the door with his gun. Lori nodded mutely. What else could she do? She walked slowly toward the door, constantly mindful of the man and his pistol. As he came up behind her, she could feel the cold, hard metal barrel pressed into the small of her back. “No tricks. No games. No sudden movements,” he instructed. “Now open the door. Slowly.” Lori obeyed. “Anybody in the hallway?” he demanded menacingly. Lori shook her head. “Then move!” He emphasized his point by shoving the gun into her kidneys, so she moved. She led him sedately down the short hallway to the stairwell. Once through the steel fire door, he used his free left hand to twist her arm around behind her back. “Down the stairs, bitch. Very slowly.” Lori complied again, her hopes for rescue rapidly fading away. Maybe it was best if they got to Drake before any of the others arrived. Drake could take care of Zimmerman, she knew, and then at least no one besides her would get hurt. She hated the possibility of being responsible, even indirectly, for the deaths of her friends and the man she loved. They reached the subbasement and entered the steam tunnels. Since Eric had the keys, Ben had left this entrance propped open for their return trip. Zimmerman kicked away the book that had acted as a doorstop and it clanged loudly shut behind them. For a moment, Zimmerman let go of Lori’s arm and she instinctively cradled her sore limb against her breast. The gun never wavered. Then he shoved a cheap plastic flashlight into her right hand and resumed his grip on her abused left arm. “No games, remember!” Lori stifled a nervous giggle. With his high, thin voice, he sounded a little like a kid imitating the bad guy in a really crummy B-movie. When they reached the secret door to Drake’s cave, she stopped abruptly, earning herself a wrenched arm and a bruise on her lower spine from the barrel of the gun. “This is it,” she told him quietly. He let go of her arm and, illuminating the wall with the flashlight’s weak beam, she triggered the opening. She could almost smell Zimmerman’s excitement as he watched the passageway appear and she fought down the wave of nausea that threatened to swamp her. Not noticing, or maybe not caring about her discomfort, he grabbed her arm again and shoved her roughly down the corridor ahead of him. When they moved into the outer cavern, Zimmerman paused, jerking her quickly to a halt. Lori cried out at the pain that coursed through her left shoulder. “Dragon!” her captor called. “Show yourself!”

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Lori heard a scuffling sound and automatically trained the light on the entrance to the inner cave. She felt her abductor’s tense elation as Drake’s massive, scaly bronze head appeared in the dim glow. Enormous gold eyes regarded them narrowly. Eric and David were nearly back to the hidden door before they heard the sound of running footsteps behind them in the tunnel. His hand flew to the weapon at his back as Eric spun on his sneakered heel and Ben Montoya skidded to a halt in front of him. Ben was limping a little, Eric noticed absently, and the Hispanic man’s dark eyes were narrowed into an expression that was downright lethal. Wesley, slightly out of breath and looking more disheveled than Eric had ever seen her, was only a few steps behind Montoya. Eric’s stomach heaved violently. What had happened to Lori? “Where is she?” he snapped, his eyes futilely scanning the passage behind Wes and Ben, looking for any sign of her beloved form. “Don’t know,” Ben growled in frustration. “Disappeared from her lab.” Maybe she just had to use the bathroom again, Eric hoped wistfully. She seemed to have an awfully small bladder. Wesley shot that hope right down the tubes. “There was broken glass and water spilled all over the floor of her lab,” she told Eric, almost frantically. “And Q’s tank lid was lying open. Lori would never leave it like that. Not voluntarily.” “No,” Eric agreed. “Zimmerman?” Ben shrugged helplessly and Eric slammed his hand hard into the cinderblock wall. Why had he ever involved her in this mess? They’d suspected that Zimmerman was close to the edge. Why hadn’t they just let Drake kill the bastard, or at least just turned last night’s evidence over to the cops? “Think about this,” David interjected. “Where would he take her?” He flicked the safety off the snub-nosed automatic that Eric hadn’t even known his friend possessed, although he should probably have guessed, given Dave’s survivalist leanings. “If I’m reading him right, he took her to find Drake.” The others nodded in agreement. Drake’s cave was the logical place to start. “I’m going in first,” Eric announced flatly, brooking no argument. “I’ll be loud and obnoxious and try to distract him. Maybe that way you two can sneak up behind him.” Ben agreed. “Wesley can watch the hallway and make sure that nobody else tries to interrupt.” Wes’s snort indicated that she didn’t believe that logic for a moment, but she didn’t take the time to argue. Eric could only empathize with Ben for wanting to keep his woman safely out of danger. Right now he would gladly trade just about anything to have Lori glaring at him like that, instead of in the clutches of a madman. Eric tucked his borrowed gun back into his jeans and stepped up to the secret door. Once he’d opened it, he stomped loudly down the passage. Ben gave Wes a brief, hard kiss then, kicking off his tennis shoes, followed a few yards behind, weapon drawn.

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David, also in stocking feet, slipped silently across from Ben. When they could see the glow of Lori’s flashlight, they halted while Eric continued into the stone chamber. “Yo, Drake!” Eric called loudly. “What’s up, buddy?” He quickly assessed what he could see in the minimal light. Drake sat in spurious docility, blocking the way to his inner sanctum, which Zimmerman may or may not have noticed. Lori sat slumped against one limestone wall, bracing her right arm on her left knee and keeping the flashlight trained on Drake. Her left arm was cradled close to her stomach. She looked okay and Eric’s knees nearly went out from under him at his relief. He spun slowly, his own flashlight picking out Zimmerman, seated cross-legged on the stone floor, about six feet from Lori. The gun in his hand never wavered, although he looked in Eric’s direction. The black muzzle remained trained firmly on Lori. “Hello, Jason,” Eric said flatly. “Fancy meeting you here.” “God damn it, Eric,” Lori cried softly. “What are you doing here?” Zimmerman cackled snottily. “Trying to rescue the fair maiden, hmm? Too bad you’re too late. One wrong move and there will be nothing left of her to rescue.” Eric growled but held still, raising his hands in a signal of defeat. He was about ten feet farther into the cave than Zimmerman. Maybe, if he could keep the lunatic’s eyes on him, Ben could sneak up on Jason and disarm him. He backed up a couple of steps, pulling Jason’s focus even farther into the cavern. “I’ve already got the name, you know,” Zimmerman told him conversationally. “I had just started preparing the ingredients when you walked in.” In the beam of Eric’s high-powered flashlight, there was an empty black backpack. Zimmerman himself was bent over a small tabletop-style grill, on which he had piled the various herbs described in the notes they’d retrieved from his hard drive. From the hand not holding his gun there was a spark and he lit the brazier with a disposable lighter, which he then tossed casually aside. The sound of it bouncing along the smooth stone floor seemed to reverberate throughout the small chamber. Please let him shoot me, Eric prayed silently. Not Lori. He knew he had to make a move soon. He needed to do something to distract Jason’s attention. Lori’s heart was in her throat and she was trying valiantly not to vomit. Why had Eric shown up now, when there was nothing he could do? It didn’t even occur to her to wonder where David was, since the two men had left together. Zimmerman was completely nuts and now he had Eric in his sights as well. They were both going to die, she thought sickly. The hand that wasn’t holding the flashlight was cupped protectively over her lower abdomen and tears trickled unnoticed down Lori’s cheeks. Sitting here waiting for a bullet, she’d had the time to count. The early-warning signs she’d experienced had failed to develop into anything and as of yesterday, her period was officially late. Suddenly, intuitively, she was sure that she was pregnant. Wonderful timing. If there was a baby, it was going to die too.

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Drake had said very little since Lori and Zimmerman had arrived in his cave. His gaze had remained cool, impersonal and very level. When Zimmerman had asked for his name, Drake had merely studied the talons on one powerful foreleg. “I am called Drake,” he’d said, seemingly offhand. “But is that your true name?” “Why should I tell you?” Drake had asked idly. “I’ll shoot her,” Jason had warned excitedly. Drake had looked up in apparent puzzlement. “So? What is the life of one human compared to my freedom? Perhaps, you should instead be giving me a reason not to simply make a meal of the pair of you.” After an instant of shock, Lori had understood Drake’s ruse and she’d said nothing to imply that she and the dragon were friends. “I know she’s been helping you,” Jason had bluffed. Drake had shrugged, giving the young man a glimpse of his iridescent wings. “The WYRM virus was mine,” he said casually. “Assisting them to detect the pirate who’d stolen it suited my fancy. Now you force me to repeat myself, human and I am rapidly growing bored. Why should I not kill you both where you stand?” “Because together, you and I can own this place. I can pass in the world of humans and with your magic, there’s no limit to what we can achieve.” Zimmerman’s voice kept creeping higher, like that of an over-excited child. Lori just hoped he didn’t accidentally clench the hand that held the pistol. The dragon had sighed, pretending to see the point. “Latin was the first language of my dam and sire. The earliest name I was given was Draconetti, little dragon.” Then Eric had arrived. “Sit over there along the wall,” Jason ordered Eric. “Next to your whore, but not touching.” Eric moved to obey and Lori’s eyes followed his movements as best they could in the crisscrossing flashlight beams. Lord, she loved him so much! She wasn’t prepared for him to stumble. Eric was a little scatterbrained at times, but he was never clumsy. Lori shrieked as she saw him trip, long arms windmilling for balance and dropping his flashlight. When he fell onto the stone floor, Lori felt his long, lean body lying sprawled between her own and the gun in Zimmerman’s hand. “Are you all right?” she cried, dropping her own light to wrap her arms around him. She hadn’t heard a gunshot, thank God! Where was Zimmerman now? “Hey Drake, think we can get a little light in this hole?” asked Dave’s wonderfully sardonic voice. “The creep is down for the count.” Eric sat up and wrapped Lori fully in his strong arms, pulling her tightly against him. She hugged back, knowing that nothing on Earth had ever felt so good, so safe and so right. His voice was low and ragged as his lips moved against her tangled hair. “Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you?”

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A few moments later, the small space was lit by a handful of Coleman lanterns. They were all there, Lori saw joyfully. Ben and Wes and Dave. Ben was sitting on the back of an unmoving Jason Zimmerman. “Is he dead?” Lori asked warily. She wanted him out of her life, but she didn’t think she wished him dead. Ben shook his head. “Unconscious.” Lori smiled her thanks, shifting so that she could more easily see the rest of them, but still firmly ensconced on Eric’s lap. “You okay, chica?” Lori nodded shakily. She was going to be fine as soon as she stopped shaking. Eric’s hands soothed up and down her spine, as though he had to reassure himself that Lori was intact. She thought that was a good idea, since she felt pretty much the same way about him. Drake rumbled deep in his throat. “None of you is injured, I hope.” Eric and Lori both shook their heads. They’d both have a couple of bruises, Lori suspected, hers from Zimmerman’s manhandling and Eric from his pratfall, but that didn’t matter. They were both, or more likely, all three, still alive. She knew she’d have to tell Eric about her suspicions when they got home tonight and she wasn’t at all sure how that scene was going to play out. “Does he have to be awake when they perform the spell?” Wesley asked Drake curiously. Lori was glad her friend was being such a good sport, considering that she knew Wes was still disappointed not to be one of the special few who could see Drake without his direct permission and not to be able to help cast the spell of forgetfulness. She was also pleased to see Wes unconsciously reach for Ben’s hand as he finished tying Jason Zimmerman up with his braided leather belt. Dave had taken care of the man’s ankles with his own belt of olive green webbing. “Unfortunately,” Drake replied soberly. “You know,” Eric began speculatively. “We’ve got this guy on a lot more than cyber crime now. If we arrange things right, we can get him busted for kidnapping, assault with a deadly weapon, maybe even attempted murder.” “But we can’t let the cops know about this cave,” Lori pointed out. “How about the janitor’s closet?” Wesley suggested. “We can set up the computer there and make it look like it was his hideout.” Drake nodded judiciously. “We can carry him there, then perform the spell as soon as he awakens. I can wait in the hallway until we are sure that he has forgotten me.” The dragon willingly contributed some of his computer equipment to the cause, though Eric and David vowed that they would arrange for replacements as soon as possible. Soon, the entire party had relocated to the disused janitor’s closet beneath Harrison Hall. The equipment was carefully wiped clean of all other fingerprints, then Ben held the unconscious man’s hands while he pressed them to the various parts of the computer.

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As Zimmerman began to moan and stir, Wesley and David slipped out of the room and joined Drake in the hallway, with the old oaken door propped just slightly open so that they could listen. “Christ!” Zimmerman groaned, trying to sit up but discovering that he was bound. “You forgot about me,” Ben told him calmly. “I snuck up behind you and knocked you out.” Jason squirmed and swore while the others stood together across the room, the two men protectively flanking Lori’s smaller frame. Then the three linked hands and began to chant. Jason Allen Zimmerman, we call you now by name and by the blood and by the three, we conjure all the same. Of all your crimes and all your deeds, most conscious shall you be, but no recall of dragon in the picture shall you see. All memories of dragon shall be vanished from your mind and never in the future shall you think of dragonkind. They watched in silence as he ceased his struggles, his dark eyes glazing over, as though he’d been stunned. He lay limply for a few moments then twitched a little as he came back to reality. “Where the hell am I?” “This is where you kept your computer, apparently,” Ben answered dryly. “And where you were holding Lori hostage.” “I-I was?” At first he looked confused, then his features tightened and he was very obviously pissed. “Damn you stupid spic! You had to fucking ruin everything!” Lori heaved a sigh of relief. Apparently, he remembered nothing about Drake. They could turn him over to the police now and the nightmare would all be over. Eric held up his cell phone. “I emailed the cops all the evidence we found last night,” he told the others calmly. “And now I’m calling them to pick up this piece of shit.” Wes ducked in the door, with David close behind. “Already done,” she told Eric sweetly, waggling her own phone. “They’re on their way.” “Who are you?” Zimmerman demanded. “My name’s Drake,” Dave answered, seeing if the word rang any bells. “No, it’s not.” Zimmerman concentrated. “I’ve seen you at Fantasy Club. Your name’s Garagiola or something.” Dave chuckled. “Close enough.”

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It was nearly midnight by the time they were through with the formalities. Chuck Zalewski was talking with the chief of police and the other officers, wrapping up the formal charges on the embezzlement counts. The interim president had heartily thanked everyone who had played a part in Zimmerman’s arrest, except for Drake, of course, who was destined to remain the unsung hero of the piece. Zalewski and the chief emerged from the inner office and the chief reached out to shake hands with each of them. Eric shook Lori awake gently, then booted Dave in the butt with his foot. Eric stood to shake the chief’s hand, pulling Lori, delightfully tousled, to her feet beside him. Since most of their cars were still at the tire shop, David drove them all to the house shared by Lori and Ben in his beat-up van. “Eric,” Lori began as soon as they were alone inside her apartment, then her speech was interrupted by a massive yawn. “There’s something we need to talk about.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. “Tomorrow,” he told her gently. Actually, they had a lot of things to talk about. The most important, to his mind, was when he was going to take her shopping for an engagement ring. “It’s really important,” she insisted, but she was exhausted and suddenly, so was Eric. He steered her into the bedroom and began to strip her clothes off. Finally, she took over the job herself, while Eric quickly undressed. Within minutes, they were snuggled together under the covers, sound asleep. They had no chance to talk alone before they congregated in Drake’s cavern the next afternoon. The mood was jovial, if tired, and there were a number of toasts made with in cheap beer or, in Lori’s case, Diet Dr. Pepper. She supposed she was going to have to give it up to avoid the caffeine, but not today. She did, however, refuse all offers of alcohol. Since she drank so rarely anyway, none of her friends remarked on her abstinence. “We’re taking it slowly,” Wesley told the others happily, but her fingers were linked with Ben’s. “But we’re going to try to work it out between us. We care enough to make the effort.” That engendered another toast and then David remembered something else to share. “I found an interesting website about dragons, Drake. It’s headquartered in the mountains of Tibet and I think, just maybe, it could be what you were looking for.” He handed over a sheaf of printouts. Drake looked at the pages with cautious hopefulness. “There are phrases here and there…” he muttered in his deep bass rumble, which echoed faintly off the carved stone walls. “Thank you. This does warrant further investigation.” “We’ll have your new computer set up by the weekend,” Eric added. “Between the various labs and our office systems, we have more than enough spare parts lying around to set you up.” “My thanks to all of you,” Drake sighed, looking around. “I never realized that your species was capable of the sort of kindness and loyalty you five have displayed in 165

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recent days.” He reached out with his forelimb toward Lori and stroked the back of one digit against her cheek, carefully sheathing his talon. “And courage. Especially you, my dear. I owe you my most profound apologies. I never intended for you or your little one to be in danger.” Instantly, five sets of eyes pinned themselves to Drake’s form. The silence was practically vibrating in the enclosed space. Finally Eric spoke, a little hoarsely. “Little one?” Drake chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah. Apparently, I spoke out of turn. Humans may be capable of bravery and loyalty, but sometimes I think you are still as stupid as we dragons used to believe. Can you not even tell when your mate is with child?” Lori wished she could burrow into the ground beneath her feet. So much for the conversation she’d been trying to have with Eric since last night. She hid her face in her hands, unable to look any of them in the eye. “How can you tell?” Wes asked curiously. Drake snorted. “Scent, mainly. Minor changes in heat signature.” Eric stood, dragging Lori to her feet. “We need to go,” he announced crisply as he tugged her with him toward the exit. “We’ll see you all later.” Lori followed docilely, dreading the moment when he got her alone. It was a short walk to Eric’s house, so he took her there. He kept his stride short enough that she didn’t have to run, but kept his gaze focused straight ahead the entire way and didn’t say a word. “It looks good,” Lori offered quietly, looking at the warm, parchment-colored walls and deep green carpet in the living room. The contractors were finished, but the entire first floor was still empty. Eric nodded. “Your furniture should look good in here.” So would she, he thought silently. His house was where she belonged, baby or no baby. He was just afraid that she was chickening out. Lori smiled weakly then followed him through the kitchen to the bedrooms, approving the paint and flooring choices and workmanship. He stopped at the spare bedroom, which had been painted a sunny yellow with white trim. His throat went completely dry as he turned and put his hands on her shoulders. “Nursery?” Lori smiled tremulously and blinked. Was she crying? Eric pulled her closer, into his arms. “Talk to me, damn it,” he rasped, fighting past the lump in his own throat. “Are you pregnant?” He felt, rather than saw her slight shrug. “I’m not totally sure.” She pulled back a little so that they could look into each other’s eyes. “I think so.” A zillion conflicting emotions surged through Eric as he held her tight against his chest. Fear, concern, hope. And above them all, love. Love for this small woman held tightly in his arms and love for the child she might or might not carry. “God, I love you,” he whispered against her hair.

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“You do?” Lori pulled back from him and studied his face intently. “So how come you never said it ’til you thought I was pregnant?” “Huh?” Eric’s confusion was genuine. He’d loved her from the beginning. He’d told her that, he must have at some point or another. “I told you before. I’m sure I did. I asked you to marry me, didn’t I?” Lori looked up at him and giggled. The puzzlement on his face was so honest, so genuine, that she couldn’t help but believe him and suddenly all of her doubts vanished. Eric did love her for herself, not for what she could do for him. If there was a baby, they would both love it unconditionally as well and if there wasn’t, well, maybe once her tenure was secure, they’d fix that. “I love you too, Eric,” she told him, eyes shining. “I love you so much!” He kissed her then and she forgot about everything else, as they lay together on the newly carpeted floor. It was sometime later, as they were gathering up their clothes, that Eric made his next move. “So does this mean we can move the wedding date up?” he asked, tugging on his sweat socks and sneakers. “I’d just as soon do this in the traditional order—or as least as much so as possible. You know, wedding first, then the birth announcements.” Lori flushed. “I guess we should,” she agreed reluctantly. “This is really going to screw with my tenure review.” She’d figured out that the baby would probably be due in January, which would make her eight months pregnant for her review in December. Yikes! Eric leaned over and gave her a hug. “Don’t sweat it. After what you did for the university, there shouldn’t be any question. Chuck promised to talk to Richard, by the way. The president’s office is personally recommending your tenure.” “But what if I don’t?” she asked, facing the last of her fears. “What if I have to leave Southern?” Eric shrugged. “Then we leave. Hell, sweetheart, I’m a programmer. I teach because I like it, but I can double my income in the private sector. Don’t worry about me, I can find a job just about anywhere.” Lori looked up incredulously. “You’d do that? Leave here, everything you’ve worked for, for me?” Eric shook his head in exasperation. “Of course I would! Damn it, woman, don’t you get it? A job is a job. You and eventually our kids, that’s the important part of my life. The rest is flexible.” His hand lovingly caressed her abdomen and she realized that he was actually hoping that there was a baby in there. It warmed her heart and she blinked back tears. “And you don’t expect me to give up my career, to stay home and be a soccer mom?” she asked, just so there would be no hidden pitfalls left to plummet into. “I can go back to work after the baby’s born?”

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He tugged her to him and rolled back down onto the carpeting, with Lori’s mostly clothed body on top. She looked down into those grinning green eyes and saw her future laid out before her. “You can go back to work whenever you want. Take a week, a semester, even a couple of years. Hell, I’ll take a semester or two of leave if you want me to, I don’t care.” He kissed her gently to drive home his point. “All this stuff is minor, Lori. These are just details. I love you. I want you to marry me. I want to have kids with you, now or later, it doesn’t matter. Those are only things that really count. Now will you marry me soon, or not?” Tears of joy trailed down along her cheeks. “Yes,” she whispered, looking deeply into his eyes. “I’d love to marry you. As soon as we can arrange it.”

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Epilogue The Saturday morning in late May was warm and sunny, with a gentle breeze and a few fluffy white clouds dotting the azure sky. The oak grove on the campus of Southern Michigan University was a beautiful place for a wedding and Lori’s mother and sister had pulled out all the stops in their efforts to get the ceremony taken care of before the bride had to wear a maternity gown. Lori smoothed the ivory satin down over her slightly thickening waist and smiled. Her family had been delighted, both about the wedding and about the baby and they had all pulled together to make Lori’s wedding day as perfect as could be. Eric looked magnificent in his formal morning suit, Lori thought dreamily, staring up at her new husband, as they finished greeting the last of their guests. There’d been a big turnout, with most members of both of their departments present, along with Lori’s family from downstate. To Eric’s surprise, even his mother and her Italian count had flown in from Europe. While Lori didn’t think she’d ever be particularly close to her new mother-in-law, at least there wouldn’t be any outright hostilities. Meredith Gordon DeLorenzo had turned faintly green when she’d been told that she would shortly become a grandmother, but her husband Gianni had been delighted, sweeping Lori up off the ground in an exuberant embrace. Then he’d turned and hugged Eric just as tightly, welcoming his mortified new “son” into the family. Lori’s family had watched the entire scene with fond bemusement. “Hey Lori,” Wesley whispered a few minutes later. “There’s someone who wants to talk to you.” She gestured off into the woods. Lori slipped behind the tent that held the buffet and followed her bridesmaid a few feet into the oaks. Wesley and Kelly, Lori’s matron of honor, were wearing gowns of emerald green. Ben, as groomsman, had been stunning of course and even David, the best man, had shaved and even allowed a stylist to actually cut his hair. In fact, he looked positively dashing in his suit. Lori had even pretended not to notice his enamel lapel pin, although she had bitten back a grin when she’d read the inscription. “Don’t worry, I forgot your name too.” One of these days, she thought, he’s going to find a woman who isn’t going to let him get away with that. Eric, Ben and David awaited them inside the verge of the woods. Another friend was there too and Lori squealed with happiness, throwing herself forward to embrace Drake’s dragonny hide. “I’m off to Tibet,” he told them quietly. “I’ve mapped out a route that should keep me out of sight, for the most part. There are just too many of you humans with the ability to see me these days. I’ll email you in a few days to let you know I’ve arrived.”

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“We’ll miss you,” Lori told him softly. “But it will be so nice if you find other dragons there.” “Let us know if we can help,” Eric offered. One arm was wrapped around his bride’s waist and he held the other hand out to Drake. “Bon voyage.” Drake used one long talon to lift a scale on his right shoulder. From underneath, he withdrew a bronze and ruby bracelet. The intricate Celtic design and gleaming patina indicated a vast age and Lori knew that the item was well over a thousand years old. “A wedding gift. There’s a spell on it. If you or any of your descendants are ever in need, hold onto this bracelet and call my name.” Eric clasped the gems around Lori’s wrist, then Lori leaned over and planted a kiss on Drake’s scaled cheek. “Fly safely, my friend. Thank you for everything.” Like getting us together, she thought mistily. Now Drake shook Eric’s hand. “Felicitations, old man. Email me the baby pictures.” Then he slipped deeper into the woods and Lori and Eric returned to their guests. On December 31, a very impatient young man made his appearance, much to the consternation of the other guests at Wesley’s New Year’s Eve party. Leaving their other guests at Wesley’s condo, Wes and Ben, along with David and his date, followed Eric and Lori to the hospital. They were on hand, just before midnight, when Eric burst out into the waiting room. “It’s a boy,” he announced gleefully, his joyful expression assuring the others that even though the baby was a couple weeks early, all was well with both Lori and the child. “Seven pounds, two ounces.” “What are you going to call him?” Wesley asked. Lori had been refusing to tell her for months. “Phillip,” Eric told them, sliding into a chair for a much needed breather. Phillip had been his father’s name and Lori’s insistence on using it for their son had touched his heart. “Phillip Drake Gordon.”

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About the Author Cindy Spencer Pape has been, among other things, a banker, a teacher, and an elected politician, though she swears she got better. Her degrees are in zoology, and she currently works in environmental education, when she can fit it in around writing. She lives in southern Michigan with her husband, two teenage sons, a dog, a lizard, and various other small creatures, all of which are easier to clean up after than the three male humans. Cindy welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.cerridwenpress.com.

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