Page 21 of Tempting the President
Which is ridiculous, because I’m a grown woman with a PhD, not some romance novel heroine who gets derailed by one admittedly spectacular encounter with a devastatingly attractive man.
Except apparently that’s exactly what I am.
I’ve been trying to avoid him by changing my routine completely. Taking different routes to class, grading papers in the faculty lounge instead of my office, even switching to a different coffee shop three blocks away instead of the convenient Caffeinated Pages on the ground floor of his building.
The problem is that Patrizio Steele seems to be everywhere I try to hide.
Yesterday he was coming out of the university administration building just as I was going in. The day before, I spotted him through the window of the coffee shop I’d fled to, talking to someone on his phone while leaning against what was probably a very expensive car. This morning, he was standing in the lobbyof my apartment building (yes, mine!) when I came down to check my mail, looking like he belonged there more than I did.
Every time I see him, he gives me that slow, knowing smile that suggests he’s perfectly aware I’m running from him and finds my attempts at avoidance deeply amusing.
“Triple shot cappuccino, extra foam, no sugar?”
I look up to find a pretty blonde barista approaching my table with a refill and a smile that lights up her whole face. Something about her makes me think of the cool girl in high school who was somehow friends with everyone without trying.
“On the house,” the younger woman adds, setting the cappuccino down with a flourish.
My eyes widen. “Are you sure?”
“You look like you need it. That page has been staring back at you for twenty minutes, and I don’t think either of you is winning the standoff.” Her eyes twinkle with good humor.
I wince and offer a sheepish smile. “Was I that obvious? I hope I haven’t driven away your customers with my doom cloud.”
“Rough semester?” she asks, tucking the empty tray under her arm. Her gaze flicks to my stack of ungraded papers and the red pen I’ve been tapping against the table for who knows how long.
“Something like that.” I don’t want to lie...but I don’t want to admit the truth either, which is how my unhealthy obsession over a certain student’s older brother has turned my brain into academic mush.
“I totally get it. College can be brutal. What are you taking up?”
I’m flattered and embarrassed by her mistake. “Actually...”
Ten laughter-filled minutes later, and George and I have gotten things straight about each other. She’s twenty-five, no boyfriend since birth, and divides her time between her job and night school. A business major with a minor in literature, which explains why she kept eyeing the worn copy of Jane Austen peeking out from my bag. She treats Caffeinated Pages like her own living room, moving between tables with the ease of someone who knows exactly where she belongs in the world.
George, on the other hand, is still shaking her head in amazement that I’m a bona fide college professor...who also happens to have the same taste in books as she does.
“Have you read Eina L. Haze’s newest?”
Why, darn it?
Why is it that everyone seems to know what I’ve done my best to hide my whole life?
“I think I should make one thing clear,” I say awkwardly, unconsciously dropping my voice to a whisper even though no one is close enough to overhear. “I read those books for research, not for fun.”
“Oh, I see.” Her eyes sparkle with amusement, making me suspect she doesn’t believe me for a second.
Phew.
“That’s just so cool, Prof. I mean, it just goes to show how you really can’t judge a book by its cover.”
“Uh, yes.” Why do I feel like I’m missing something again?
“I mean, I’m familiar with the titles you’ve read recently since they’re the same books I’ve also read.”
Claimed by the Alpha. Dominated by the Biker. Submission to the MC King.
I try not to wince as George rattles off the exact same titles that got me in trouble with a certain man I’m still doing my best to forget.
I think...I think it’s time I deleted those books from my device.
