Learning Curves - By Elyse Mady Page 0,25

you tonight.”

“Okay,” she agreed, trying to repress the wide grin determined to break out across her face. “Okay, that’s good, then.”

He smiled back, and this time her grin wouldn’t be controlled. “Very good.” They stood, looking at each other.

“Miss?”

She turned, startled, and saw that her class was assembled, waiting for her to begin the seminar. She hastily scribbled Cass’s address on a sheet of paper, tore it from her agenda and handed it to him. He tucked it in his coat pocket before he loped off down the hall.

As she took her place inside the classroom, she told herself it didn’t matter that he hadn’t looked back.

Except that no matter how hard she tried to focus on the students’ comments during the next hour, the feeling of disappointment didn’t subside.

The temperature had dropped by the time Brandon climbed off the bus that evening. He’d spent the day trying not to go over and over his brief conversation with Leanne, but the memory of her dark eyes and shy smile crept into his thoughts despite his intentions to the contrary.

Shrugging deeper into his coat, he was glad he’d liberated his gloves and scarf from the back of his closet before he’d set out. He tucked the shopping bag under one arm and rummaged for the scrap of paper with the address for tonight’s dinner.

563 Tisdale Ave., Apt. C.

Leanne’s neat writing sloped across the lined paper, as elegant and controlled as she was, he thought fancifully. He could have ridden his ten-speed, but he’d picked up a bottle of wine and hadn’t wanted to show up hot and sweaty, so caught the crosstown bus instead. Looking up at the street sign, he set off. The houses here were older, many with generous porches and tall, mature trees, all bare now against the dark autumn sky. Once upon a time, it must have been a prosperous neighborhood, but it looked a little tired now. Many of the big brick homes were ragged, narrow metal fire escapes revealing their conversion into apartments and student housing.

563 Tisdale looked like its neighbors. The outside light was on as he walked across the porch, its gray paint faded. Pushing open the leaded glass door, he could see the main hallway had been sectioned off. Apartment C was on the topmost level; he climbed the steep stairs, the bag in his hands bumping against his leg with every step. He could hear lively music and chatter, even though the door was closed. Straightening, he knocked and after a moment, the door opened.

The woman on the other side was tall and striking, with cropped hair and a row of fierce-looking piercings running up one ear. Her eyes were discerning and not particularly welcoming.

“Yes?”

“I’m Brandon,” he said by way of introduction. “I hope I’m in the right place. Is this where the potluck’s happening?”

“Yes.”

Her dislike was palpable and for a moment, Brandon was at a loss.

“I brought food,” he said, holding up the cloth bag in a gesture of appeasement. He liberated the wine bottle and handed it to the woman. Her long fingers wrapped around the neck, the electric blue polish on her nails vivid against the dark green glass.

“Hey Cass, do you know where the salad tongs ended up?” Brandon relaxed a little at the familiar voice.

Cass leaned back into the apartment and called, “Check the shelves in the dining room.”

“You sure? I looked there and I couldn’t—” Leanne strode into the entranceway and stopped short at the sight of him waiting in the hall. Several emotions flitted across her face so quickly he couldn’t identify them before she smiled and beckoned him inside. “You made it.”

The hostess relented a little, opening the door wide enough that Brandon could slip in. Leanne made the introductions, her color a little high but her tone friendly. She wore the same dressy sweater and slacks she’d worn during her seminars but had slipped off her dress shoes to reveal a pair of brightly colored polka-dot socks. A quirky and unexpected touch.

“Brandon,” Cassandra said, holding out her hand stiffly. It was a statement, not a greeting. Leanne shot a wary look at her friend and after a moment, she relented enough to feign a smile.

“I brought a salad too.” Reaching into the bag again, he pulled out a large container of couscous salad. It was just a premade salad that he’d picked up from the deli but Leanne’s smile of pleasure sent a thrill through him, and he felt vindicated in the