RACHEL CAME BACK TO WORK two days later, all cried out. The aftereffects-sore eyes and red nose-led credence to her flu story, which only made her feel more guilty. A childhood of enforced deception had given her an antipathy to lying.

She was in an intolerable situation, aching to see her son but with no excuse to do so. Instead she had to depend on the occasions he chanced into the library during her shift, and not surprisingly, after her babble on Tuesday he tended to give her a wide berth.

Friday afternoon she’d just begun an informal workshop on finding and searching business resources when Mark and Devin came in together and joined the seven students already standing in a circle around her. Ignoring Devin, she smiled a welcome at Mark and summarized her intro. “Okay, everyone, let’s move on to search strategies.” Act cool, she told herself, he needs to think of you as normal.

As she distributed the handouts, Devin murmured provocatively, “Your hair’s much nicer down.” Rachel turned her back on him. She hadn’t seen him since the kiss three days earlier, and he wasn’t a bit repentant. But a slap on the wrist would have to wait for privacy.

She got the opportunity twenty minutes later, when she dismissed the group. To her surprise, Devin had asked some intelligent questions, made notes, acted like a regular student right down to calling her Ms. Robinson. “Can you stay behind a moment?” she asked him.

“Sure. Mark…go ahead, buddy, I’ll catch up to you.”

Rachel forgot her prepared lecture on respecting people’s boundaries. “How do you know that boy?”

“Who, Mark? He’s one of my classmates…nice kid. But no need to be jealous. You’re still my number one sparring partner.” He eyed her folded arms. “I expect you want an apology for that kiss.”

“That would be nice.”

“I know I should be sorry. Will that do?”

A smile trembled on her lips. If Mark hadn’t been involved she might have enjoyed this outrageous man. “About that teenager,” she said. “Wouldn’t you rather hang out with people your own age?”

Devin raised a hand to his impressive chest in mock horror. “Why, Mrs. Robinson, are you coming on to a student?”

“Are you ever serious?”

He considered her question. “Oddly enough, all the time I’m not teasing you. You know, maybe we should go on a date, explore this little attraction we’ve got going.”

“So little I’m completely unaware of it,” she retorted.

“Really? I thought you were a clever woman.” He leaned closer. The man had charisma; she gave him that. The innate confidence that came from a lifetime of being desired. Lucky him.

Surprise came into his extraordinary eyes. Rachel thought it was because she’d held her ground. Until he sniffed. “Your perfume,” he said, “it’s sexy as hell.”

He smelled good, too. She banished the thought. “What were you expecting, lavender water?”

Devin blinked.

“But you’re right,” she added coolly. “I am clever. Too clever for you.”

He grinned, sending his charisma wattage through the roof, then to Rachel’s relief straightened up. “Maybe you’d enjoy slumming,” he offered.

“I won’t lower my standards.”

“The professor being such a class act.”

Rachel’s cheeks heated, but she held his gaze. “Speaking of classes, don’t you have one?”

He glanced at his watch. “Damn, it’s still hard working to a timetable. One more thing…don’t mention the donation to the university to anyone.”

It occurred to her that he’d bought himself a place here. Lovely.

He misread her disgust. “Please.”

Before she could answer, Mark came back into the library. With a cursory nod to Rachel, he said, “Hey, Dev, we’re late.”

“You were supposed to go on ahead…never mind.” Devin turned back to Rachel with a rueful smile. “I’d better run. I’m teaching that boy too many bad habits.” With a casual wave he left.

She watched them leave with a disquiet that turned into real alarm when, on her break, she took the opportunity to research Devin on the Internet. Though his musical achievements proved substantial, Devin Freedman was a man who comfortably juggled the seven deadly sins and still found time to break a couple of commandments.

The hair rose on the back of her neck when she read he’d admitted to using recreational drugs. He was also an unrepentant drunk. When, two years earlier, a writer for Rolling Stone magazine had asked if he had a problem with alcohol, Devin had replied, “No, we’re very happy together.”

He’d collapsed on stage eighteen months ago amid frenzied rumors of a drug overdose, then effectively vanished from the media…resurfacing in New Zealand before Christmas, pulling a Marlene Dietrich “I vant to be alone.”

There were a couple of pictures of him, Stetson pulled low, mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes, palm outstretched to the camera. Otherwise nothing but speculation about the guy nicknamed the Prince of Excess.

Rachel shut down the Internet connection and stared unseeing at her screensaver, a model of the mountain bike she wanted to upgrade to. Her own experience of him did nothing to reassure her.

Beneath the banter he was self-indulgent and arrogant, a man who did what he wanted when he wanted, with no thought for other people.

And her son was under his influence.

“SO, MARK…HI!” Even to Rachel’s ears, her tone was too tinny; too bright. She’d been waiting five days for this opportunity to talk.

The teenager glanced at her, startled. “Hi.” He returned to scanning the library shelves.

“Need some help?”

“No, I’m okay, thanks.” He’d been taught nice manners; she’d already noticed that. It warmed her…and it blistered like acid.

“Are you sure? After all, that’s what I’m here for!” Rachel laughed and it was a silly, high sound. She felt like a thirteen-year-old trying to impress a crush.

“Here it is.” Mark took a textbook off the shelf. “Well, see you.”

She fell into step beside him. “So, how are your classes going?”

“Um, fine.”

“Do you spend much time with Devin Freedman?” She hadn’t intended asking so baldly, but he’d picked up speed.

He slowed at that, his gray eyes suspicious. “A bit…why?”

“What about out of school?”

He stopped at the bank of high-backed chairs that made up a study corner. “Look, if you want his autograph I think you should ask him for it yourself.”

“His auto-” This time Rachel didn’t have to force the laugh. “Oh, no, I’m not a fan.”

“She’s a friend, aren’t you, Heartbreaker?”

Rachel jumped. One of the chairs swung around to reveal Devin.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

“What…friend or heartbreaker?”

“Both.”

He chuckled and the light flashed off the heavy silver link chain around his neck. Today he’d accessorized his faded jeans, olive T-shirt and scuffed brown cowboy boots with way too much jewelry-silver hoop earrings and three rings including a skull with diamond eyes. Mark looked from one to the other, then plunked himself into a chair. “Oh, you guys know each other. That’s cool, then.”

About to tell Devin to take his boots off the coffee table, Rachel paused. “Sure, we’re friends,” she said. Advising Mark to be careful around the rocker would sound less hysterical if he thought it came from personal experience. “So, Devin-” she paused, trying to think of something “rock n’ roll” to say “-how’s it hanging?”

The twinkle in his eyes became more pronounced. “It’s hanging fine, thanks for asking… What are you up to?”

The blush she’d managed to hold back through his innuendo heated her cheeks. “The usual. Actually, I’m due in an acquisitions meeting so I’d better go.” She looked at her son. “Bye, Mark.”

His nod was friendly. “See ya.”

She waggled her fingers at Devin, who waggled back. “Definitely up to something,” he said.