Spiral of Bliss 01 Arouse by Nina Lane Page B

his research, we discussed the different things to do in Madison and Chicago.
    We went back to the sofa for coffee and chocolate cake. As Dean put a cup on the table in front of me, he reached out to push a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His fingers brushed my cheek, and a tingle skimmed through me.
    My reaction to him was both exciting and unnerving. String figures aside, he was experienced in ways that were foreign to me, his confidence born of an assurance I couldn’t imagine and didn’t know if I could handle.
    And still, I wanted to try.
    “So.” I pleated the folds of my skirt. “You don’t have a girlfriend?”
    “Yeah, I have a girlfriend,” Dean said. “She’s just out of town right now.”
    He grinned when he caught the look on my face. “Liv, of course I don’t have a girlfriend. And I’m very glad I don’t because otherwise I wouldn’t be here with you.”
    “Oh.” A blush warmed my cheeks. “That’s nice. Thanks.”
    He still looked amused. “You’re welcome.”
    I gathered my courage and pressed forward. Better to know now what I was getting into. “But I’m sure you’ve had a lot of girlfriends, right?”
    “I’ve had girlfriends, sure.”
    I certainly didn’t expect a different answer, but my heart still shrank a little at his admission. “Any serious ones?”
    “Depends on what you mean by serious.” He sat across from me. A shuttered darkness concealed his eyes. “There was a woman in grad school. Helen. She was a close friend of my sister’s. Still is. She also became close to my mother. They stay in touch.”
    “Was that how you met her?” I asked. “Because she was a friend of your sister’s?”
    “I’d known Helen for a couple of years through my sister. Then we both ended up at Harvard for grad school. She studied art history.”
    “How long were you together?”
    “About three years.”
    “Why did you break up?”
    “Different goals.” A tense undercurrent threaded his voice. “Among other things.”
    I wondered how two PhDs—in history and art history, no less—could have different goals. “And she lives in California now?”
    “She took a job at Stanford while she was still finishing her dissertation. Not far from where my parents and sister still live.” He reached out to refill our coffee cups. “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about them right now.”
    “What do you want to talk about?” I asked.
    “You.”
    My stomach tightened. I tried to smile.
    “Not much to talk about there,” I said.
    “Not true.” He leaned his elbows on his knees and studied me, those penetrating eyes seeming to look right into my soul. “What’s your key, Olivia?”
    “My key?”
    “An old friend once told me that everyone has a key to unlocking their secrets. What’s yours?”
    “Um… I’m pretty sure I don’t have a key.”
    “I’m pretty sure you do.”
    “Well, if everyone has one,” I said, “what’s yours?”
    “Ah.” A twinkle flashed in his eyes. “You have to discover that yourself.”
    “Then you have to do the same with me.”
    “Challenge accepted.”
    My anxiety ratcheted up a few notches at the idea that he would probe for information about me. I was well-protected with several layers of scar tissue, but that night of the museum lecture I’d realized how difficult it would be for me to withstand Professor Dean West. And now I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to.
    “String figures and medieval knights,” I said softly.
    He lifted an eyebrow in question.
    “The keys to unlocking you.” My heart beat faster as something indefinable crossed his expression.
    I knew I was right. I just didn’t know how those keys worked.
    We looked at each other for a minute across the expanse of the sofa. I trailed my gaze to his mouth, remembering the warm touch of his lips against mine, the gentle way he held my face. Never had I been kissed with such heat and thoroughness. I wanted him to kiss me like that again.
    Dean moved closer to me,