Gabriel's Inferno

professional bow tie-tier, just for that purpose. Someone with artificially blond hair and high heels. And very long finger nails.

She slid the Starbucks card back toward him defiantly. And to her great surprise, his face hardened and he pocketed it.

“I won’t play gift card ping-pong with you all evening,” he snapped.

“But the bursary can’t be returned. The money isn’t from me. I simply alerted Mr. Randall, the Director of the philanthropic organization, of your accomplishments.”

“And poverty,” Julia muttered.

“If you have something to say to me, Miss Mitchell, please do me the courtesy of speaking at an audible level.” His eyes flashed to hers.

Her eyes flashed back. “I don’t think this is very professional, Professor Emerson. You’re passing me thousands of dol ars through a bursary, however you managed to do it. It looks like you’re trying to buy me.”

Gabriel inhaled sharply and counted to ten just to avert a verbal explosion. “Buy you? Believe me, Miss Mitchel, nothing could have been further from my mind! I am deeply offended at being so maligned. If I wanted you at all, I certainly wouldn’t have to buy you.”

Julia’s eyebrows shot up, and she glared at him. Harshly. “Watch it.”

He squirmed under her glare, which was a rare experience for him.

She reveled in it.

“That is not what I meant. I meant I would never want to treat you like a commodity. And you are not the type of girl who could be bought, are you?”

Julia eyed him frostily before looking away. She shook her head and began staring at the doorway, wondering if she should make her escape.

“Why do you do that?” he whispered, after a few minutes.

“Do what?”

“Provoke me.”

“I don’t…I…I’m not provoking you. I’m stating a fact.”

“Nevertheless, it is extremely provocative. Every time I try to have a conversation with you like a normal person, you provoke me.”

“You are my professor.”

“Yes, and your best friend’s older brother. Can’t we just be Gabriel and Julianne for an evening? Can’t we have a pleasant conversation and an even more pleasant dinner and all the rest? It might not seem obvious to you, but I’m trying to be human here.” He closed his eyes in frustration.

“You are?” It was an innocent question asked in good faith. Julia clapped a hand over her mouth as she realized how it sounded aloud.

Gabriel’s dark blue eyes opened slowly, like the dragon in the Tolkien story, but he did not take the bait of her impertinence. And he did not breathe fire. Yet.

“You wish to be professional, so act like it. A normal graduate student would receive an award letter, be profoundly grateful for her good fortune, and accept the money. So act professionally, Miss Mitchell. I could have hidden my connection to the bursary from you, but I chose to treat you like an adult. I chose to respect your intelligence and not engage in deception.

Nevertheless, I took great care to hide my connection to the bursary from our department. The philanthropic organization does not have my name attached to it publicly, so it can’t be traced back to me. And Emerson is an extremely common name. So no one will believe you if you reveal that I’m behind the bursary.”

He withdrew his iPhone from his pocket, opened up the notepad application, and began writing with his finger.

“I wasn’t going to complain…” Julia began.

“You might have said thank you.”

“Thank you, Professor Emerson. But think of it from my point of view — I don’t want to play Heloise to your Abelard.” She looked down at her silverware and began adjusting the pieces until they were all lined up symmetrically.

Gabriel quickly remembered seeing her do that once before, when they were dining at Harbour Sixty. He placed his phone on the table and looked over at her with a pained expression, made doubly painful by the guilt he felt over what had almost happened in his study carrel. Yes, he’d come close to succumbing to Miss Mitchell’s considerable charms, and risking Abelard’s fate, for Rachel would no doubt castrate him if she discovered he’d seduced her friend. Miraculously, however, his self-control proved to be superior to that of Abelard. “I would never seduce a student.”

“Then thank you,” she murmured. “And thank you for the gesture of the bursary, even though I can’t promise to accept it. I know it’s only a small amount to you, but it would have meant airline tickets home for Thanksgiving and Christmas and spring break and Easter. And money for many more extras than I can afford now. Including steak, on occasion.”

“Why would you use it for airline tickets? I would have thought you’d use it to secure a better apartment.”

“I don’t think I can get out of my lease. And anyway, going home to see my dad is important to me. He’s the only family I have. And I would have liked to see Richard before he sells the house and moves to Philadelphia.”

Actually, it would be worth it to accept the bursary so I could visit Richard and the orchard. I wonder if my favorite apple tree is still there…I wonder if anyone would notice if I carved my initials into the trunk…

Gabriel scowled obliquely, for a number of reasons. “You wouldn’t have gone home otherwise?”

She shook her head. “Dad wanted to fly me home for Christmas, rather than taking Greyhound. But the prices on Air Canada are outrageous. I would have been ashamed to accept a ticket from him.”

“Never be ashamed to accept a gift when there are no strings attached.”

“You sound like Grace. She used to talk like that.”

He shifted in his seat and involuntarily scratched at the back of his neck. “Where do you think I learned about generosity? Not from my biological mother.”

Julia looked at Gabriel, meeting his gaze without blushing or blinking. Then she sighed and put the award letter back in her bag, resolving to spend more time thinking about how best to deal with it once she was no longer in The Professor’s magnetic presence. For she saw that arguing with him would get her nowhere. And in that respect, as in several others, he was exactly like Peter Abelard, sexy, smart, and seductive.

He peered over at her. “But despite all I’ve tried to do, which isn’t much I’ll admit, you’re still going hungry?”

“Gabriel, I have a tenuous relationship with my stomach. I forget to eat when I’m busy or preoccupied or — or sad. It’s not about the money — it’s just the way things are. Please don’t trouble yourself.” She readjusted her cutlery once again for good measure.

“So…you’re sad?”

She sipped her beer slowly and ignored his question.

“Does Dante make you unhappy?”

“Sometimes,” she whispered.

“And other times?”

She looked up at him, and a sweet smile spread across her face. “I can’t help myself — he makes me deliriously happy. Sometimes when I’m studying The Divine Comedy, I feel as if I’m doing what I was always meant to do. Like I found my passion, my vocation. I’m not that shy little girl from Selinsgrove anymore. I can do this, I’m good at it, and it makes me feel…important.”

It was too much. Too much information. The quickly drunk beer, the rush of blood to the head, his scent clinging and heavy in her nose from his sweater. She should never have said all those words to him, of all people.

But he only watched her somewhat warmly, which surprised her. “You are shy, it’s true,” he murmured. “But that’s certainly not a vice.” He cleared his throat. “I’m envious of your enthusiasm for Dante. I used to feel that