He studied each paper she handed him. Before he’d realized it she’d drawn him into the project. Three hours later they were both on their computers polishing the questionnaire. Ten questions on what attracts one person to another.

When they stopped at noon, he had to acknowledge that Miss Clark had a brain under all that red hair. She might drop down some wild rabbit-trail now and then, but her ideas, hypotheses, and theories on a subject he’d thought would be boring were actually very interesting.

The theory that people were attracted by smell surprised him. He would never have thought of smell until she explained many studies found attraction to someone’s smell was a strong factor.

As they walked downstairs to the coffee shop that served sandwiches, curiosity got the best of him. “Why haven’t you gotten your doctorate?” He leaned down a bit as he asked and discovered she smelled of chocolate.

“I started the program once at UT and a few years later at A&M, but life got in the way. It had always been my goal, but there were so many other paths to follow. At forty-three I feel like it’s too late.”

He didn’t ask more. When they entered the coffee shop area, he relaxed. After months of doing little more than nodding at each other, they were actually talking.

Lucky for him, he wasn’t the least bit attracted to her, even if she did smell like chocolate. She wasn’t his type. Correction, he didn’t really have a type. Women, in general, confused him. The games they played irritated him. Why couldn’t they just come out and say what they wanted?

Benjamin ordered at the counter and they sat by the window so they could watch the rain. Some called Clifton College a suitcase school because most students went home on Friday.

On weekdays there was always a line of students to pick up coffee before class, but on Saturday, they were the only two customers. The coffee shop and the library usually kept shortened hours over spring break.

“I’m glad it’s raining.” He broke their first silence all morning. “That way I don’t feel bad about not working with my dad.”

“Your dad still farms?”

“He does, but every year I take a bit more of the load. When I first came back, I was just free labor now and then, but the past few years I feel myself taking over more. It’s not that he’s slowing down. It’s more like he’s losing interest.”

“What about your mother?”