Page 861 of One More Kiss

A rush of the outdoors enveloped her; Lu stood and turned to find herself face-to-face with the handsome man from outside, now wearing a stern, formal expression compared to the effortless smile he’d so easily worn outside.

“Miss Lucinda Danvers, meet Max Fischer, straight to our humble little school direct from Hollywood.”

Lu’s forehead wrinkled, adding to the headache she’d developed from her lack of coffee plus listening to the dean ramble for the last ten minutes. She glanced at Max—who nodded at her, like he’d never seen her in his life—then back to the dean. She shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came.

“Oh, I’m sorry Lucinda. You must be confused. Max here is replacing Dr. Anderson. He’s our newest tenured professor. You understand, of course, best person for the job and all.”

Lu dug her fingernails into her palms and bit her tongue.

Dean Clark snapped his fingers again, an old habit of his Lu was now quickly becoming annoyed with. “Right! Max here will also be your co-producer on the play. Should make for an excellent pair, you two!”

Not in this lifetime, if Lu had anything to do with it.

* * *

To saythe expression on Lu’s face registered shock would be a gross understatement. Dean Clark had asked him here this morning to meet one of his colleagues but apparently had not told his colleague of the nature of this meeting.

Max extended his hand in her direction, but she remained rigid, arms now folded tightly across her chest.

Moments ago, they’d shared a drink.

Now, her sharp glare said the only thing she’d share with him would be a dagger to the back.

How appropriate.

How Shakespearian.

Et tu, Lu?

Max pulled his hand away, and stretched his arm to scratch the back of his neck.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Danvers. I’ve heard so much about you.” Max glanced at the dean, whose ear-to-ear grin conveyed he sensed none of the tension simmering under Lu’s skin.

“I bet you have,” she spat at him, bitterness lacing her words. Max thought to ever kiss her would mean certain death, with the poison lingering on her tongue and her full, red lips.

Never had he been so utterly terrified and thoroughly attracted to someone simultaneously.

An unnatural feeling, as Max had never lacked for companionship whenever he desired back in Los Angeles, especially when he mentioned to a fledgling starlet he worked at a film studio.

He suffered no doubt Miss Danvers would be unimpressed by his credentials.

She nodded curtly at him, then at Dean Clark. “Thank you both. I must be going. I have another appointment this morning.”

She turned to face Max directly now, and he was man enough to admit her height, nearly the same as his own in her heeled shoes, as well as her fixed gaze, intimidated him in a way he could say no other woman had.

He reached out slightly to take her hand again but drew it back to his side as she cleared her throat.

Right.

She turned and bolted out of the dean’s cavernous space, rushing past the secretary’s desk and out into the hallway.

Against his better judgment, he followed, to be stopped by Doris.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you.” Her hair bobbed as she shook her head at him.

“I’ve never been a wise man, Mrs. Brown. But thank you for the advice.”

As he pushed open the door to the hallway, Doris called out, “Don’t forget the faculty mixer tomorrow! Attendance is required and you haven’t responded to the invitation!”

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