Windswept Read Online Free

another place, another college, and could concentrate on what she loved to do: teaching, research, and writing. But first, department promotion rules required she publish at least two more articles; the informal grapevine, however, claimed a book contract would clinch the deal. And she only had a couple of years to do it. Windswept could have given her all that and more. Assuming she could conquer department politics, especially those involving Full Professor Glover.
    She had two tasks now. First, convince Davis Jamison of the worth of and need for the inventory. She’d send him a persuasive, comprehensive letter delineating all the reasons why he should give her immediate access to the papers. She’d talk to some archivist friends for more reasons not to let old records deteriorate. Call on a couple of her former professors to bolster her arguments. Just knock his socks off with the need to settle it now. If he had so much to do, she could reduce his workload by handling this matter for him.
    Second, come up with another research topic, another plan, just to be on the safe side.
    “You can do it,” she muttered to herself. “Let it percolate in your brain for a while. Think about it all the way back to Grand Prairie and you’ll have ideas coming out of your head. And you have friends to be with tonight and a party tomorrow to get your mind off your troubles.”
    The doors opened. She threw her shoulders back, pulled her jacket straight and strode off the elevator, head high.
    ***
    Feeling a jolt of awareness to the soles of his boots from their brief locking of eyes, Davis watched the door close behind Barrett. He regretted for a moment she lived so far away. His first impression had been correct; he would have enjoyed her company on a personal basis.
    And the reaction he’d seen in her eyes told him she was not immune to the attraction, either.
    She would certainly be a contrast to his usual companions, fashionable trust-fund society types or driven women in corporate careers. The former had never worked a day in their lives and had read few books of any consequence--or few books, period. The latter read the Wall Street Journal , Business Week , and Forbes .
    All of them were useful for socializing, for maintaining an appearance, even for some relaxation--all he wanted from any woman these days. Most of them were not interested in or capable of carrying on a complicated conversation about anything other than their main pursuits; the good professor, he was sure, could converse on a number of subjects--and would probably talk his ear off in the process.
    He shook his head. He didn’t have the time to daydream about what wouldn’t be. He had just returned from a trip, first to Washington and then to Louisiana. He had work to do.
    Intent on plowing through the pile of accumulated papers, phone messages and e-mail, Davis returned to his office, taking off his coat on the way. When he sat down, however, he picked up her file folder first and turned to the pages at the back where Barrett had included her curriculum vitae.
    Her full name was Elizabeth Barrett Browning. No wonder she went by Barrett--probably had been teased all her life about having the name of the poet. He himself did not care for his own first name, but he was named after his grandfather, so what could he do except go by his middle one as she did?
    She had done her undergraduate work over at Rice University and received her masters and doctorate from the University of Virginia. Now she was an assistant professor for women’s studies at the University of Texas at Grand Prairie. He noted her degrees, honors and publications. She certainly appeared to have the qualifications to work on the Windswept papers, but then Granddaddy wouldn’t have picked her if she hadn’t.
    He sat back in his chair and rubbed his right forefinger along his mustache--a habit that always helped him think. Suppose he agreed to his grandfather’s deal. She’d have to work in his