“How’s the paper coming?” he asked.

“Fine. Right on schedule.”

He fell silent and studied her face, while she looked back at him. He was wearing a gray T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, exposing his muscular arms. His jeans and moccasins might have passed for student wear, but despite his clothing he looked about as much like a student as she looked like a fan dancer. He wore his aura of danger like an ornament, and like an ornament, it drew attention. Out of the corner of her eye Cindy saw a couple of girls at the next table staring at him and conversing in hushed whispers. She could guess the subject of their conversation without trying very hard.

“I wasn’t going to come here,” he said suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“When I called the apartment Paula told me you were here, but I was going to wait until you got home.” He shifted restlessly in his chair. “These places make me jumpy.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Schools, churches, libraries. I was always getting thrown out of them.”

The reference librarian chose that moment to advance on them and glare at Fox.

“You’ll have to keep your voices down or go outside,” she said sternly. “People are trying to work here.”

“See what I mean?” Fox asked Cindy as the woman walked away. “They see me and freak. You’d think I was going to set fire to the joint.” He stood, shoving his chair back into place with a loud scraping noise and staring defiantly at the librarian when she looked up.

“Let’s get out of here,” he concluded, lifting her back pack and shouldering it.

Cindy gathered the rest of her things and followed him down the narrow aisle, then out through the double doors to the hall. Once out of the room Fox expelled a breath, as if he’d been under some tension that had just been released.

“The last time I was in a library was ten years ago,” he said, glancing at her. “I was looking up some deeds for my uncle.” He smiled and tugged on a strand of her hair. “What were you doing ten years ago?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Studying geometry, probably. Or algebra. Math was never my strong point. What were you doing besides looking up deeds?”

He thought about it for a second. “Raising hell, I guess. Making a fool of myself. That was my usual occupation in those days.” He pushed open the outer door and they stepped into a flood of sunshine. “Have you got Paula’s car?”

Cindy nodded. “It’s in the row next to the concrete abutment,” she said, pointing.

“I have to go back to my place and check the mail. I’m expecting some legal papers that can’t wait.” He eyed her speculatively. “Do you want to come along?”

“To your house?”

“Yes.”

Cindy hesitated.

“You’ll be safe with me,” he said quietly.

“I know that,” she replied, making her decision. “Should I leave Paula’s car here?”

Fox shook his head. “Better follow me. The car will be okay in the lot at my building.”

Cindy did as he said, trailing him out of the university lot and following his sports car along the boulevard lined with palm trees that ran parallel to the school. He drove for about two miles and then pulled into a condo complex with its buildings scattered along the edge of the water. He parked behind a sparkling white highrise, and Cindy pulled into the space next to his. When he got out of his car to meet her he said, “I’m on the fourth floor.”

Cindy walked at his side, observing the scenery, which was gorgeous. Rich plantings abounded, with many palms and flowering shrubs contributing a riot of color.

“Did you think I would call you while I was gone?” Fox asked suddenly, and Cindy looked at him. He was watching her with that alert expression she had already come to know. It meant that the casual question carried more import than the listener could guess from his offhand tone. Was this a test?

“I know you were busy,” she said carefully. He looked away and dropped the subject. Cindy couldn’t tell anything from his demeanor. She was getting mixed signals from him; on the one hand, he seemed to want her attention very much, but on the other, he acted as if any sign of possessiveness would cause him to bolt. He was a complex man and she knew that he would always defy easy categorizations.

Fox pushed open the outer door for her, and they entered the lobby. It was lush, with pearl gray carpeting interspersed with walkways of rich terrazzo tile. Vivid contemporary paintings were mounted on a background of beige grass cloth walls, and hanging baskets of ferns were everywhere.

“Drew, this place is something else,” Cindy said, staring unabashedly.

He flashed her a delighted grin. “Yeah, I know. Everybody who lives here is blue chip, except for me. You should have seen the looks on the faces of the other happy home owners when I moved in with my three duffel bags of T-shirts and jeans.”

Cindy got a sample of what he meant as a middle aged couple passed by on their way out. They were extremely well dressed, and the woman wore so much gold jewelry that it was amazing she was able to move at all. They both nodded stiffly at Fox, their expressions glacial.

“My next door neighbors,” Fox said out of the corner of his mouth to Cindy. He waited until they were out of earshot and added, chuckling, “They haven’t decided whether I’m a hit man or a white slaver.”

Smiling, unable to resist his relishing their confusion, Cindy said, “Why don’t you just tell them what you do?”

“And ruin all the fun? No way,” Fox replied, pressing the button for the elevator. “Besides, they would hardly regard my real line of work as any better than their imaginings. The fact that they inherited all their money and don’t work at all doesn’t prevent them from looking down on those who do.”

“Are you going to tell me how you wound up in this place?” Cindy asked archly, as the elevator arrived and they got into it.

“Dying of curiosity, aren’t you?” Fox asked, shooting her a sidelong glance.

“Yes,” she admitted, and he laughed, throwing his head back in a boyish gesture that made her want to kiss him.

“I’ll tell you,” he replied, pointing to his door as they got off the elevator. “About nine months ago I got a call from an oil company representative. The suite in this building was being used by one of their vice presidents, who had just absconded with one-and-a-half million of the company’s funds. They were understandably anxious to locate him, and they offered me a percentage of that figure if I could bring him back.”

He shrugged as he unlocked the door. “It wasn’t my usual thing, more a missing persons case than anything else. The guy hadn’t jumped bail; he’d just left. But I was intrigued and went after him. I finally found him a few months later in Rio, with a phony name, a phony passport, and a Brazilian mistress. When I turned him in the company offered me this place in lieu of the fee. The crook wasn’t going to be using it anymore, and it was worth about what they owed me, give or take a few grand. At first I thought I’d sell it, but I decided to stay when—”

“When you saw the effect your presence was having on the uptight tenants,” Cindy finished for him, and he smiled at her.

“Smart girl,” he said, and bowed her inside.

The apartment ran from front to back, with the entry hall leading straight ahead into the living room, and the kitchen and dining area on the left. To the right, off the living room, were the two bedrooms. The kitchen was galley-style, gleaming with space-age appliances, and had a counter that bordered the dining room directly next to it. The living room featured polished hardwood floors and a brick fireplace with an oak mantel. Through the sheer drapes Cindy could see a balcony that ran along one end of the suite, with access from both the living room and the master bedroom.

Fox was standing next to her, waiting for her reaction.

“What can I say, Drew? It’s spectacular.”