No. He had to be imagining things.

“I’ve got a compilation CD in my car, Devin,” said Selei. “I’ll lend it to you.” He left the room in the wake of the other students, who were making a rush to the kitchen for dessert.

Casually, Devin wandered over to Rachel and Mark. “What’s pavlova, that it causes a stampede?” he asked.

Beryl and Kev’s hometown was Matamata. “Near Hamilton,” Rachel had said, “where I grew up.” Mark’s birth mother had been from Hamilton.

“A cake-size meringue smothered in cream and strawberries,” said Rachel.

And she was thirty-four. Around the right age.

“New Zealand and Australia still squabble over who invented it,” Mark added. “It was made in honor of some ballerina who toured Down Under a couple of centuries ago.”

“Actually, it was only eighty odd years ago,” Rachel corrected. “Anna Pavlova, in 1926…Devin, why are you looking at us strangely?”

“I was thinking how odd it was to fight over ownership of a dessert.” He reached for Rachel’s empty plate, telling himself this was all coincidence. “The food was great, thanks.”

“Here, I’ll take that.” Mark stood and stacked the plate on top of his own, still half-full with carrots and broccoli. “You want me to get you some pav? Rachel?”

“I’ll come with you. Devin, stay and enjoy the peace for a few minutes. You’ve earned it.”

He sat on the couch, trying to think. The math worked, but Rachel wasn’t the type to have had a teen pregnancy. Why was he so emphatic about that? Devin smiled. Because he couldn’t imagine anyone taking advantage of her.

But he was thinking of the grown woman. What would she have been like at sixteen, seventeen? The corners of his mouth lifted again. A Goody Two-shoes without a doubt. Earnest and probably naive. But still uniquely Rachel.

Devin couldn’t categorize her. Yes, she was conservative, at least compared to him, but she surrounded herself with people who were outsiders, or rebels like baby Goth. Yes, Rachel was sensible and pragmatic, but last night she’d surrendered-briefly-to passion and spontaneity.

Searching his mind for facts, not feelings, Devin came up with very few. Busy protecting his own privacy, he’d never appreciated that she was doing the same. What did he know about Rachel, really? Only what she’d wanted him to.

No wonder he couldn’t get her out of his head.

He remembered how opposed she’d been to his friendship with Mark a few weeks back; in hindsight, her concern had an almost hysterical quality. But then, she looked out for new students. Hell, she had a houseful right now.

Through the open doorway, Devin watched her cluck over her brood like a mother hen. This woman wouldn’t have given up a child. He was wrong. Things could stay simple. Simple was how he needed them.

TWO HOURS LATER Rachel was on the doorstep saying goodbye to students when Trixie came out with Mark.

“I’m taking him to the new health food store in Grey Lynn and stocking him up on whole foods.” Rachel noticed he was carrying Trixie’s bag of clean laundry. Mark caught her eye and grinned self-consciously.

Whatever his cockeyed scheme was, it wasn’t serious. From their conversation, she’d learned that Mark wasn’t planning to leave school. He probably wanted to date Trixie, and hoped Devin would get some pointers from Rachel. Unfortunately, he was doomed to disappointment. Trixie might consider dating a younger man but she stuck to her own kind. Hopefully, the crush didn’t run too deep.

“Drive carefully,” she said to Trixie.

“Yes, Mom. C’mon, Mark, let’s leave the lovebirds to it.”

Rachel blushed. Why did Trixie keep doing this to her? “Our relationship hardly warrants that description,” she began, and was pulled back into a hard male body.

“Yet,” said Devin. His breath on her nape sent a shiver down her spine. “Thanks, guys, we’d appreciate it.”

Rachel finished waving them down the street before she turned on him. “You’re taking far too much for granted, mister.”

“You just don’t like someone else taking charge,” he said mildly. “But what’s that got you in the past? Guys like Paulie you can’t respect.”

“I respected Paul,” she said defensively.

“Notice how you put that in the past tense?” Devin rubbed his thumb between her eyebrows, making her aware that she was frowning. “Besides, if I let you dictate the pace you’ll end up thinking about it for another month, laying down rules and parameters and basically taking all the fun out of it.” Devin slid his thumb down her jawline, then brushed it across her mouth. “Do you really want me to let you do that?”

His broad chest was very close. In answer she stepped forward and laid her cheek against it, then felt his arms close around her. The trouble was, around this guy she couldn’t think. He smelled so good-rugged, clean, masculine. “You have pheromones in your aftershave, don’t you?”

A chuckle rumbled under her cheek. “I haven’t shaved for a couple of days.”

She checked; he was right. Funny how she’d stopped noticing him as scruffy and disheveled. Lifting a hand, she ran her fingers through the stubble. It highlighted his mouth, wide, firm and tempting.

And his hair was soft, too. Somehow all those vibrant red highlights made her expect it to be springy, but it was baby-fine. “It’s getting long again,” she commented. She could lose her hand in all that rich, wild color.

“You think I should get another haircut?”

She hesitated. “No.”

Something started to hum between them, like the charge in the air before an electrical storm. He freed her hair from the ponytail. “You smell good, too. Like roast lamb and gardenias.” He kissed her, and she closed her eyes, suddenly weak with desire. “And you taste of strawberries,” he said when he came up for air.

“I might have eaten a couple in the preparation,” she admitted, smiling.

“Is that why you served yourself so little, or did you go short so the fledglings could have second helpings?” He looked at her with a frank affection he didn’t bother to hide. He had no business looking at her that way, as though they had the possibility of a real relationship, a future. It took her dangerously close to needing him, and Rachel had spent her life making sure she didn’t need anyone.

“You have the most expressive face of anyone I’ve ever met,” he said. “And you’ve just gone AWOL on me. Why?”

Rachel swallowed. “That’s silly,” she said, and kissed him.

The kiss was different, distant. Devin let her go. He’d had enough casual sex to last him a lifetime, and it wasn’t what he wanted from her. The realization was a shock; now he was the one who needed some time to think.

“I didn’t get to eat much, either,” he admitted. “How about we grab a cold lamb sandwich?”

“Good idea, there’s still plenty of meat on the bone.” She didn’t seem the least disappointed by his withdrawal, dammit, leading the way to the kitchen, hauling out the leftovers, the bread, the chutney. The librarian never reacted how he expected. It was one of the most infuriating and charming things about her.

“Put the kettle on,” she said. “We’ll have tea.”

“I’ll make iced. It’s too hot for the Kiwi version.”

“Trixie left some wine in the…sorry, I forgot. Yes, iced tea would be lovely.” She started building the sandwich-meat, mustard, tomato. “Do you miss alcohol?”

Devin preferred to have the subject out in the open. “For years I thought alcoholism was a problem I could be cured of, so I could go back to drinking.” He found ice in the freezer, a lemon in the fruit bowl. “But when it finally came down to life or death…well, it clarified my priorities. No, I don’t miss it.”

“And you’ll always have your music.”

He concentrated on stirring in the sugar. “I haven’t had an idea in months. I’m beginning to think I can’t write songs sober.”