A Lesson in Chemistry With Inspector Bruce Read Online Free PDF

was nearly the last one to turn in her self-evaluation. “Are you going to deliberately call on our areas of weakness?” She tilted her head and peered at the chart, those luminous eyes of hers large and wide.
    Without looking up, he answered her. “Often, Miss Rose. How better to overcome a weakness than to confront it?” He opened her note.
    I look forward to your refresher course, Mr. Bruce. I am particularly competent in the area of organic chemistry, but I believe I will fail the oral exam quite miserably, and I’m afraid there is really no help for that.
    —Fiona A. Rose.
    He frowned.
    “Mr. Bruce, you might try a rubber dressing, which you could press onto the dusted fingerprints, then lift them off of whatever surface they’re on.” He reread Fiona’s message, even as she continued to speak. “You might also consider using a camera fitted with a very short depth-of-field lens and one of the new high-speed films. You could develop the negatives and make prints with an available light enlarger.”
    He looked up in time to catch a glimpse of Miss Rose exiting the open door. He grabbed a few unread notes, stuffing them in his pocket. “Until Thursday, then,” she called over her shoulder. Archie swept textbooks and seating chart under his arm and dashed out of the classroom.
    FIONA CLIMBED INTO the hansom and smoothed her skirts. “Miss Rose, may I have a word, please?” Her instructor stood at the open door of the cab. “I did not mean to unduly frighten you with my ‘confronting your fears’ remark. I’d like to make it up to you, if you’d give me a chance.”
    The ends of her mouth twitched. “You did not frighten me, Mr. Bruce.”
    “I didn’t?” His liquid brown eyes flashed a hint of devilment or disappointment—either way it was quite disarming. “Well, then, I’m relieved to hear it.” He exhaled.
    She moistened her lips. There she was doing it again—a nervous habit whenever she was forced to make eye contact with someone who disturbed her. In this case, a young gentleman who made her stomach flutter.
    “I might know a technique or two for overcoming your fear of the oral exams. I suffered from something similar at university.” Mr. Bruce removed his spectacles, hanging an armature over a coat pocket. “But more importantly, I would like to discuss both your fingerprint transfer ideas—at length if that is possible. Might I take you to dinner, tonight?”
    Fiona studied her handsome instructor. Oh, yes, he had gone from merely attractive to the most desirable man alive in little more than two hours. And how exactly had that happened? Could it be residual, latent attraction—left over from three years ago? “I’m afraid I’m expected home for supper, but we could share this cab if you’d like. Which way are you headed?”
    He smiled a slow, close-mouthed smile—one where just the ends of his mouth turned up. “Chelsea, and you?”
    “I’m right on your way, Mr. Bruce—Knightsbridge.”
    He gave instructions to the driver and climbed into the cramped confines of the hansom. Fiona lifted her book bag onto her lap and he sat down beside her. “Nicely chummy-chuffy,” he murmured in a soft voice.
    She turned to him, tried to speak, then quickly turned away. “I’m sorry, it’s just that your proximity is so, so . . . proximate.” She flashed a shy smile.
    “Proximate. Is that a word, Miss Rose?” His eyes danced with light from the low rays of the sun, as the hansom traveled down Great Russell Street.
    “I have a tendency to make words up—there now, you are warned.” She forced herself to look at him. “And I shan’t apologize for it.”
    He was pensive for a moment. “Proximate might not be a word, but I believe proximitous is.”
    “Prox-im-i-tous,” she sounded out the syllables. “Use it in a sentence, please.”
    “I’m sorry, it’s just that your proximity is so . . . proximitous.”
    How could one ignore those teasing, luminous dark eyes,