Page 2 of Falling for the Enemy

“I’m good at that, too.” Dex joined us. “Bellas are good for quiche and oysters are good with pasta.”

“Not sure the mushrooms in our lab would be good in either of those dishes.” My phone rang. I pulled it out of my coat pocket. “Ugh, it’s Sinclair.”

“Is that the grumpy professor you always complain about?” Ella asked.

I laughed. The grumpy professor. How fitting. “Yep, and I’ll bet he’s calling to complain.” I stepped away from the group. “Hello,” I said dryly. Jack Sinclair was an associate professor inthe botany department, too, only he had three years on me, and he had an attitude as big as a redwood tree.

“When are you coming to take these rug rats off my hands?” he asked.

“I’m not sure if grad students can be classified as rug rats.” I waved to the others to let them know I was off to work.

“I beg to differ. How do you stand Norman? He hasn’t stopped whining since he pulled on his lab coat. ‘I’m not getting stuck washing beakers.’” Jack was putting on a pretty fair imitation of Norm’s squeaky tone. “I thought I was going to have the good microscope today. Who drank the last bit of coffee? I said dibs on the last cup.” He finished his impersonation.

“That was pretty good, and yes, he’s a lot, but he came with the job.”

“Well, I can’t listen to one more gripe session.”

“And if you’d stop your own gripe session and let me off the phone, I could get over to the university.”

“Fine,” he said brusquely. “And you owe me.”

“What? Did you forget that you owed me first? I took over two lectures when you were out sick.”

“Just get over here, Lo, before I send Norm out a window.” Jack refused to call me Associate Professor Lovely. He said that name didn’t fit, so he called me Lo. I’d let him know that his name, Jack, fit him perfectly, because after I said it, I always said “ass” in my head. And that was one of the friendlier conversations we’d ever had. I had no idea why. It just happened with some people. You met them and there was instant friction and dislike. Anddislikewas a gentle word for it. Nonna always reprimanded us if we used the word “hate,” but it was the most precise word I could come up with to describe my feelings for Jack Sinclair.

I headed to the car, an old, rattling sedan I’d found online. Traveling the world had been exciting, but working for lowbudget research teams had not exactly been lucrative. I had to admit it was nice having a job with a decent, regular paycheck. I climbed in the car and looked back toward the bakery. The plum-and-white striped awning looked shiny in the early spring sunlight. People were standing out on the sidewalk chatting, laughing and nibbling flaky croissants. Isla’s dream had finally come true, and I couldn’t have been happier for her.

Chapter Two

AVA

One of my grad students, Ian Lowell, was downing a high-energy drink outside the building as I walked up to the botany lab. Ian was in his late twenties. He’d taken care of his ailing mom after high school. After she died of cancer, he restarted his education and was now a year from his master’s degree. He was highly intelligent. He scrubbed his short hair with his hand and pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on.

“Glad to see you. I’ve been standing here waiting for Norm to come flying out the lab window. Professor Sinclair looked as if he really wanted to pick him up and toss him out.”

“You’d think Norm would get the hint when he’s pushed too many buttons.” I opened the door, and the usual smell of sanitizer, chemicals and that odd odor that always pervaded science labs hit me. It was quite a different scent from the one emanating from Isla’s Bakery. I was sorry that I missed out on a croissant, but since the baker and I lived in the same cottage, I was sure I’d have a croissant waiting for me when I got home.

I reached the lab just as Jack was rushing out. “They’re all yours, and next time call a babysitter.”

“I’m sure a fourteen-year-old babysitter would do a lot better job than you,” I called to his back. He had annoyingly broadshoulders and a posture that was just a little too cocky for my taste. He waved his hand to let me know my insults meant nothing to him.

Ian snickered as we walked inside. “Good one, Prof.” The students called meProf, which I considered a much better nickname thanLo.

Norman Plimpton was also in his late twenties, but his smooth pink skin seemed to suggest that he had yet to shave. He was still living with his mom, which was not a bad thing, only it seemed she babied him so much that he hadn’t really grown into adulthood. He was oddly thin everywhere but his belly, like an elderly man. Norm was hunched in front of a microscope. I was glad he was occupied. I didn’t feel like hearing his complaints yet. The other two members of our team, Robyn Rylie, a pretty, athletic twenty-something, and Evan Seaver, also a twenty-something who liked to keep mostly to himself, were classifying and cataloging some fungi specimens we’d received last week.

“You’re here, Prof,” Robyn said cheerily. “Thank goodness.” She had blue eyes and a button nose, and I was fairly certain that reclusive, subdued Evan had a major crush on her. It was never ideal in a lab situation, but since he was quiet about it, it didn’t interfere with our work.

I walked over to the table, where petri dishes contained specimens. “I thought Professor Sinclair was going to blow a gasket.” Robyn whispered as if Jack were still in the lab.

Evan smiled to assure me he felt the same way but preferred to keep his opinion to himself.

“Well, I’m back now.”

“How did the grand opening go?” Robyn asked. She looked down at my hands. “Thought you might bring us a few treats.”

I showed her my empty palms. “Sorry. The whole town showed up for free croissants. I’ll bring something tomorrow if there are leftovers.” I glanced at the worktable. About half thespecimens had labels. “You two are making good progress on this project. Well done.”

“Oh,” Robyn said as she sat up on her stool. “Almost forgot. Professor Brimley was looking for you earlier.” Her eyes rounded. “Do you think it’s about the Costa Rica grant? I’d sure love to go out to an exotic location to search for fungi. Having the samples delivered to us like this in the lab—it’s just not very exciting.”

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