Page 23 of Tempting the President
“When you thought I was one of the girls who’s after Mr. Steele—”
“You’re mistaken!”
“Which I’m not, by the way,” George quickly clarifies, her expression softening with sincerity, “so please stop looking at me like I just killed your dog?”
“I never—”Oh, how ridiculous!“How —”Like, seriously!
But the way George is just grinning makes me feel all my sputtering is for naught.
“You’re imagining things,” I insist huffily.
“You don’t have to hide anything, Professor.” She leans in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “The best romances are the ones we never see coming.”
Argh.
If only George’s tone isn’t so sweetly earnest, I think I would have attempted shaking some sense into her.
“Mr. Steele is a catch any way you look at it. He ticks all the boxes for a romance novel hero come to life—” Her eyes take on a distant, appreciative look, but it’s more like she’s admiring a piece of art than expressing personal interest.
“If he’s so perfect—”Argh. Why am I still being so grouchy when George’s already assured me she isn’t into him? “—then why don’t you be the one to date him?”
“Oh, Prof.” George is laughing again, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You really like him, don’t you?”
“Says the one who’s been singing his praises for the past five minutes!”
“For you,” she stresses, wiping down the table with practiced efficiency that doesn’t interrupt our conversation. “I just really think you two look good together, and besides, I already have—”
George breaks off mid-speech, but it’s too late.
“You already have what?”
Because I’m so pouncing on it like any sensible woman desperate to get out of the hot seat would.
“Nothing.” She suddenly becomes very interested in adjusting the sugar packets in their ceramic holder.
Oh no, you arenotgetting out of this that easy, young lady.
“You wouldn’t have a hard time meeting my eyes like this if it were really just nothing.”
“Oh gosh, look at the time.” George starts backing away, a flush creeping up her neck. “I need to go back to work.”
Yeah, sure.
Not gonna happen.
Duh.
And so I follow her all the way to the counter where she starts to busy herself rearranging stacks of coffee cups that are already perfectly arranged.
“You really have me curious,” I say honestly. “What would make a girl like you not want to admit who you’re crushing—”
It’s my turn to break off when I see the way George has started blushing, the color spreading all the way to the tips of her ears.
“Don’t tell me—”
“I haven’t said a thing!”
Well, she doesn’t have to, with the way she’s now red as a tomato, and all I can do is gape at her.
