His gut tightened. “I thought you were dating someone—an attorney, right? Manny or Michael or something?”

She hesitated, then said, “Martin. But it’s not the same.”

“Nothing ever is. It’s always different, sometimes better, other times worse.” Why the hell was he even having this conversation?

As if she knew she’d pushed him too far, she said, “I know this is the night of your first class and I wanted to wish you luck.”

Yeah, right. “Thanks.”

“You’ll do great!”

The woman did know how to stroke his ego.

“Hope so.”

“Believe me, those kids will be enthralled with all that creepy forensic stuff.”

“Yeah?” He checked his watch. Time to go. Where the hell was the leash? He didn’t want to take Bruno anywhere without it. Oh, maybe in the truck!

“Oh, yeah, honey. I’ve heard you speak. You know, I was wondering—”

Here it came, the real reason for her call.

“I know you spend most of your weekends up there at your cousins’ house, but when you’re back in the city, give me a call. I’d love to go out for a glass of wine or dinner or something…. You know, no strings attached.”

The no strings part, he didn’t believe.

“I doubt I’ll have any time before the end of the term,” he said. “Pretty busy.”

“I know, Jay. You always are. That’s the way I like it.”

Again, a fairy tale. She liked a man she could boss around. That’s where most of their problems began and ended. “Listen, Gayle, I gotta run. Take care.”

“You, too,” she whispered as he hung up and whistled to the dog. He was not going to be pulled into the trap of dating Gayle Hall again. Not ever. He’d learned his lesson and had the scar above his eyebrow to prove it.

He double-checked the lock on the back door, then gathered his notes and stuffed them into his banged-up briefcase. He had samples in the case as well. Examples of evidence that he’d share with his class. The science of forensics had become a big deal since the airing of the CSI shows and their knock-offs on television, and Jay figured part of his job was to point out the difference between fiction and fact, between wrapping up a drama in forty-odd minutes, and doing the legwork and lab work that required hours and hours in real life. Even the shows on Court TV were somewhat misleading with days, weeks, months, and even years of detective work wrapped up in under an hour. Though the detectives and criminalists and even the announcers would remind the viewer of the time that passed, the case was always solved within an hour, including time for advertisements. It was all part of the quick response/action/reaction short attention span television programming that viewers had come to expect.