Page 30 of The Naughty Professor
“You’ll fall out of that in public,” she said flatly.
“Then the public will get a show.Win-win.”
As I held up the thong, a guy walked past with a shopping bag, muscles bulging under his polo.I raised my voice.“Hey, cutie, you look like you’d appreciate me in leopard print.”
The man flushed crimson and hurried toward the escalator.Lorna whacked me with her purse.“Behave.”
I tucked two thongs and a bikini under my arm.“If God didn’t want me to flirt, He wouldn’t have made men so damn pretty.”
A rack of T-shirts caught my eye next—soft cotton, tight fit, the kind that clung in all the right places.I grabbed a couple without even checking the price.“Felix’s button-ups are dead to me.These babies?They’re life support.”
“Don’t forget pants,” Lorna said, already reaching for a rack of chinos.
“Chinos?!”I gasped.“Honey, no.The pair I’m wearing is begging for a mercy killing.”I rifled through the denim section and pulled out some slim-fit jeans.“These.These are how an ass gets the attention it deserves.”
I had an armful of clothes when Lorna suddenly froze, one hand flying to her chest.Her bangles rattled like alarm bells.“Oh, my God.”
I blinked at her.“What?Did you see another thong?”
“No, no, no.”She pointed a trembling finger toward the escalator.“It’s that bitch.Joan Stanwyk.”
I turned lazily, expecting maybe a tax collector.Instead, I saw a tall, icy blonde gliding down the escalator like she owned the patent on oxygen.Perfect bob, sharp blazer, skirt that said “boardroom chic.”
“Who the hell is Joan Stanwyk?”I asked, unimpressed.
“She’s the one,” Lorna hissed, clutching her purse strap like it was a rosary, “who told me at the faculty mixer last spring that my lipstick looked ‘brave.’”
I choked out a laugh.“Brave?”
“As in clownish!”Lorna spat.“And then she turned around and said I was ‘so authentic for not worrying about aging gracefully.’”
“Oh, hell no,” I said, narrowing my eyes.“Who gave her the right to judge you?It’s not like she’s all that.”
Joan stepped off the escalator and straightened her blazer.She was all poise, all gloss, like a Stepford Barbie who ate men for breakfast.I squinted at her and leaned toward Lorna.“Baby, I bet that woman hasn’t been laid since the Clinton administration.”
Lorna burst out laughing so loudly that two shoppers turned their heads.“Jax!”
Joan’s eyes flicked over, sharp as stilettos.Her lips curved into a smile, and she started walking straight towards us.
“Oh God, hide me,” Lorna whispered, turning half behind a rack of socks.
“Hide?Are you kidding?Baby, you’re ten times hotter than that Botox bobblehead.”
Lorna, despite herself, grinned.But it faltered when Joan stopped right in front of us.
“Well, well,” Joan cooed, her voice dripping fake sugar.“Lorna.What a…surprise.”
“Joan,” Lorna said tightly.
Joan’s gaze slid to me, raking me from head to toe.“And who is this handsome man you’re shopping with?”
Lorna opened her mouth—then shut it again like her brain had stalled.
“Jax,” I said flatly, giving her a single nod.I wasn’t about to waste charm on this woman.
“Jax.”Joan rolled my name around her tongue like it was a new cocktail recipe.“Charming.”
I yawned in her face.
