I'm halfway to the door that leads out of the building when I realize I've made my first mistake not ten minutes after meeting Dr. Griffin. I hurry back to her office and open the door just enough to poke my head inside. Lana is sitting in the chair where I'd sat a few minutes ago while Dr. Griffin is studying papers on her desk.
"Sorry," I say. "Forgot to ask where the ruddy bookstore is."
Dr. Griffin looks up from her computer, seeming mildly startled. "What?"
"I don't know where the bookstore is."
"Didn't you get a map in your welcome packet?"
"Possibly. But I sort of left that in my flat."
She gives me a teacher-like look of stern disappointment. "Lana can get you another one."
My sexy adviser goes back to studying her computer screen.
I get a map from little Lana and leg it to the bookstore.
Chapter Two
Dr. Griffin
I will never tell Nick Hunter my first name. Dr. Griffin will do just fine because I suspect telling him my first name would lead to lots of flirting and innuendo, not to mention sexy smiles. He'd probably mold my name into dirty syllables simply by speaking it in that steamy British voice. Yes, all right, he's hot. But I do not have sex with students. Not that I was even thinking about that.Ugh. Of course I was. How could I not? The man is ridiculously hot, and I'd love to spend one night with him, if only to find what a "special" massage is. I can't do that, though. I'd lose my job if anyone found out, so I'll stick to fantasizing about Nick Hunter.
He's forty years old and a college senior. Maybe that shouldn't bother me, but it does a little. I'm forty-two, so I can hardly criticize him for his age. Why did I do exactly that? I acted snippy because I'm attracted to him. I've had bad experiences with immature men of a certain age, meaning men over thirty-five. Nick dresses like a frat boy and acts like he doesn't take anything seriously. Sure, those faded blue jeans look sexy on him, and I can't help liking the stubble on his face even though I normally don't like that kind of thing. His cowboy boots give him a strange bad-boy appeal. A Brit wearing western boots? Somehow it works for him.
But I don't get his shirt. It's dark red and has the word ARSENAL printed in capital letters on it under a drawing of what looks like the London skyline.
God, I love his eyes. When he leaned over my desk, I got a good look at those baby blues.
No, I don't love his eyes. He's a student, which means I notice nothing except his GPA.
Ten minutes after Nick Hunter left my office, my cell phone rings while I'm engrossed in creating lesson plans for the summer semester.
I answer my call with my usual greeting since I didn't bother to glance at the caller ID. "Dr. Griffin, professor of mathematics, speaking."
"Jeez, you'll never get a date if you say that to everyone."
"Dating isn't a priority for me."
"No, really?" says the snarky female on the other end of the call. "I know you've been burned before, but come on. You should at least try to get some."
"Sure, I'll 'get some' food at lunch, and I'll 'get some' work done."
"You are so not funny. Getting laid, that's what you need."
I groan. How many times have we had this conversation? No matter how often I explain, she refuses to listen. "Sweetie, please stop encouraging me to have casual sex with random men. It makes me worry about what you're getting up to."
"Did I say anything about random sex with random guys? I want you to find somebody so you won't be alone now that I'm gone."
"You aren't gone," I say, quashing the impulse to snort derisively. "Despite sharing an apartment with Tricia, you turn up at home every other day looking for food or clothes or DVDs."
"Jeez, Mom, DVDs are so last century. But your broadband is better than what we get." She sighs with the kind of long-suffering melodrama only an eighteen-year-old can pull off. "At least answer your phone like you want to talk to people. Please, for me? Please, please, please?"
"I'll try." My lips are curling up at the corners. I can't help it. My daughter always knows how to make me smile. "Was there a reason you called? Because I do have work to do."
"There's a reason." She pauses, then switches to a stage whisper. "I heard there's a new student, and he's a hot British guy."
"He's too old for you, Felicity."