Just when Sara thought her day couldn't get any worse, her scarf caught fire.

Her classroom erupted into pandemonium. Sara struggled to untangle the scarf from her neck as the air filled with the smell of singed cashmere. Erin let out a startled shriek and frantically waved her hands in the air, presumably in an attempt to snuff out the fire she'd been trying to kindle on her practice candle. In response, the fire tickling the end of Sara's scarf engulfed three more inches of beautiful, hand-knitted cable stitching as the young pyrokinetic's erratic gift flared in response with her panic.

"Someone blow it out!"

"Air will make it burn faster, dumb-ass!"

The warning came too late. The stack of papers on Sara's desk went flying as the class's lone elementalist sent a miniature whirlwind swirling toward her. Dodging an entire stack of homework cost her valuable time, time during which the fire crept dangerously close to her hair. God, not the hair --

"Erin, where's the emergency bucket?"

"What?"

"The water!"

Sara ignored the shouts and stayed calm enough to get her poor scarf unwrapped from around her neck. She dropped it to the floor just as a young male voice shouted in triumph.

All five gallons of water from the bucket in the corner spiraled into the air and cascaded over her head, drenching her, her clothes, and her desk.

Silence fell. Someone in the back of the room snickered and was quickly shushed. Sara glanced at Brandon and found the telekinetic grinning at her. "Did you see my control?"

Did you see the scarf already on the damn floor? But Brandon was so proud of himself, which she supposed he had every right to be. Translocation of liquids was a fine bit of control for a telekinetic, especially for a beginner. She forced a smile before bending over to pick up the charred remains of what had been her very favorite scarf.

She straightened with the wet, stinking yarn clutched in one hand and found her day could still get worse. Much worse. The man leaning against the door frame was tall, blond, and smiling like he knew what she looked like naked. Her fingers tightened around her crumpled scarf as her heart skipped a beat, her body reacting to that smile without her permission or her approval.

Reed Mercier, department golden boy... And all she could do was stare stupidly at him as she dripped water on the floor and wondered how he always managed to appear just after one of her students had turned her classroom upside down.

All the women in the room might be staring at Reed, but he was looking at her -- soaked to the skin, standing in the shambles of her classroom, holding a burned scarf. Soaked to the skin... No wonder he was staring at her like he knew what she'd look like naked. Now he did.

Silence stretched out between them, finally broken by nervous laughter from one of the girls in the front of the classroom. "Hey, Dr. Mercier. Erin's been setting things on fire again."

Doctor, my ass. Maybe the students really had no idea which of their teachers had their doctorates -- in fields where degrees hadn't existed a decade ago, real-life experience often took precedence over theoretical education -- but Sara recognized sucking up when she saw it.

Reed probably did too, but he just leaned one shoulder against the door frame and grinned at Sara as he watched water drip from her soaked clothing to the floor. "Who put the fire out?"

Brandon didn't give her a chance to answer. "I did! And you should have seen it, not even a splash; I held all the water together until it...uhh..." He made a vague gesture toward Sara, and she gritted her teeth with the effort it took not to snap at him.

Reed just turned his smile to Brandon and nodded. "Good job. I'm sure Ms. Patel appreciates it." When he glanced back, his eyes focused on her chest for a moment before returning to her face.

Sara glanced down at her shirt -- her very wet, very clinging shirt, through which her bra was now very visible. And not just her bra... It was cold in the room.

Heat flooded her cheeks as she jerked her head back up and turned to look at her class. The girls might be staring at Reed, but the boys... Oh, they were staring at her. Most of them didn't even bother to look guilty about it.

She crossed her arms over her chest and attempted to adopt a professorial attitude. "Who's going to stay and help clean up?"

Reed shoved away from the door and strolled toward her, his movements slow and graceful. It was probably only her own paranoia that made them look predatory as well. "No need for volunteers. I'll do it."

Four girls' hands shot up.

Sara fought the urge to groan. "Okay, out. Everyone out. If you all clear out in under thirty seconds, no homework tonight."

Reed flattened himself back against the wall as the students almost trampled him in their haste to leave. When the last stragglers rushed out, he grinned at her again. "So...should I hit the janitor's closet?"

She shivered and tightened her arms across her chest, having no intention of moving them while he was in the room. "I can take care of it. I don't have any more classes today."

"Nah. I said I'd help." He walked around her to a table by the window and snatched up a roll of paper towels. "Here, this should get us started."

It was ungracious to refuse his help, but Reed made her feel awkward and disheveled at the best of times, and this was not the best of times. "It's okay, Reed, really. Did you need something?" Or do you just have a sixth sense for when I look like a fool?

"Dr. Kendrick wants to see us." He knelt and tore off long strips of the paper towels to soak up the water. "I think it's about the Montera assignment."

Sara glanced down again, taking in her soaked clothing and transparent shirt. "Right now?" This day really can't get worse...

"Four. Didn't you get the e-mail?"

"No, I haven't had a chance to check today." Her car had broken down that morning, leaving her scrambling for a cab with barely enough time to make it to her classroom. And if I'd had any sense, I'd have called in sick and stayed home.

Reed just nodded. "Think he's sadistic enough to break the bad news to one of us with the winner in the room?"

The thought was unpleasant enough to make her snippy. "Dr. Kendrick is not sadistic."

He snorted. "Guess that means we're splitting dessert, then, sweetheart."

Sara ducked down behind her desk and started to gather up the soppy, ruined homework. "Well, they're not going to double the grant. If they sent both of us, we'd have to split the money and probably write the paper together too."

He shrugged one shoulder and ran his hand through his dark blond hair. Every strand fell perfectly back into place, and she hated him a little more. "You're the one who said he wouldn't be sadistic enough to call us both in to award one of us. It's the only thing that makes sense."

He was right, dammit. Which meant she'd be spending Halloween night trapped in a haunted house with Reed. Half the girls in the department would kill for that chance, and she bet none of them would be thinking about work once they got there. Except for her, and she'd be busy competing with a fucking medium for the best ghost research. He's going to wipe the floor with me.

She threw the last few papers on top of her stack and checked her watch. Half an hour to find something presentable to wear and get back to the departmental offices for the meeting...which wasn't nearly enough time. "Shit."

Reed seemed to have come to the same conclusion. "Want me to swing by his office and see if Susanne can push the meeting back a little?"

Susanne would probably do anything Reed asked of her. Campus rumor linked the dean's blonde, gorgeous assistant to Reed's bed at least once a month. The thought made her frown as she shook her head. "No, that's fine. I'll be there."

"Okay." He scooped up the sodden towels and tossed them in the wastebasket beside her desk. "See you then, I guess."

He'd been so helpful that it felt childish and rude not to be grateful. "Thank you, Reed. I appreciate the help."

He stared at her for a moment, then flashed her a cheeky, irreverent grin. "You're welcome, Professor Patel."