And that kind of thing tended to come up when you stalked hard enough.
I cleared my throat, hoping I could come up with a response when I had no idea what the woman had said. No way was I going to ask her to repeat herself again. If she started to think I was some kind of moron, she’d regret agreeing to supervise my thesis. She might even hand me off to another professor.
It wasn’t fair. A discussion about this topic usually would’ve set my soul alight. Especially with someone so fucking intelligent. Faye just had those big brown eyes under her glasses, and that graceful neck that made me want to wrap my arms around it as I slid my tongue into her mouth. Sitting this close to her, I could even smell her perfume.
Mother… fucking… lavender.
I shrugged off my denim jacket, wishing I could fan my face.
“Jaz?” she asked again. “What do you think?”
“I’m so sorry, uh, Faye. My mind’s not quite here today. I just… could you…?”
She blinked a few times, but repeated herself without comment. “I said the five poets you’ve chosen come from a similar perspective. Adding Giovanni would give your analysis more diversity.” She examined the list again. “In fact, you may want to remove one or two of the others to allow her more space.”
I managed to keep myself in check long enough to get out a “Right, of course.” Faye specialized in postcolonial literature, while up to now I’d focused more on feminist poetry. I’d chosen her in part because I wanted more of the postimperial perspective in my thesis.
…And in part because I wanted to find out what was under that tweed jacket she always wore.
No, Jaz! Not going to happen, so stop it already!
This conversation would’ve been so much easier if we could do it over email. Maybe she’d be willing to conduct all our correspondence online. It wouldn’t be so bad—she was a busy woman, she had other things to do, this could only make it easier for her.
I opened my mouth, ready to blurt out the half-baked idea, when I noticed the concern that had grown in those glimmering brown eyes.
“Are you doing all right?” she asked. “You seem… distracted. Is something going on in your life?”
“Well…” Tell her you have a family emergency and you have to fly to Timbuktu! “I’m all right. Didn’t sleep so well last night, is all.”
She tipped her chair backward. “Up late studying?”
“Nothing that exciting. I was marking pop quizzes until one in the morning.” I shook my head, recalling how I’d assumed I’d be able to get them done in an hour. “And these were one-page quizzes, not even essays. I don’t know how you all do it.”
As a teaching assistant, I didn’t have to do any actual teaching this semester. However, I did get to grade whatever Dr. O’Neill felt like dumping on me. That left my schedule open to do things when I wanted… but they did have to get done sometime.
“First time TAing, right?” Faye asked. “I doubt O’Neill will make you grade essays. He likes a little more control when it comes to the major assignments.”
“Oh yes, I’ve already noticed his iron fist.”
Were we chatting now? Was I going to have a personal relationship with Faye, too?
Not that kind of personal, of course. As much as I might fantasize, I refused to seriously entertain the idea for a second.
We smiled at each other, and as Faye stood up, she extended a hand. The touch sent a surge rushing through me, powerful enough to make me stop and close my eyes. Ducking my head to cover the effect she’d had, I put my jacket back on and
brushed a stray hair back over the shaved side of my head.
“Go home and get some sleep,” Faye said. “And then think about what I said today.”
“All right.” I dropped my hand to my side. “Sorry about that.”
“Email me anytime,” she said. “Let’s meet again in a week, okay? You can start doing some preliminary research and update me on your progress when we see each other.”
She grabbed the doorknob, and I stared harder at her. If I wasn’t going to set my eyes on those perfect features for a full week, I could at least memorize them in the meantime. Lord knew I’d be revisiting the mental image once or twice before the week was up.
Hell, now that she was extra forbidden, she might just become my biggest fantasy.
She swung open the door—and stopped short.