Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Maybe it was a good thing the guys had come along when they had. Because that was not how he wanted her, with four college-age young men interrupting them and ogling those beautiful breasts.
But he’d definitely been about to lose control.
That was a first for him. He liked to be in control of his lovemaking. That way, there were no surprises.
But everything about Michaela Killian was a surprise. On Stanford’s wall for academic achievement. A freaking legend whose exploits were taught in economics classes. There was so much more about her to admire than he’d ever thought.
As they headed back along the loop and the terrain suggested they were getting close to the parking lot, he took a gamble. “You know, I’d like you to come to one of the talks I’m giving.” A week ago, he’d worried about her judging him. Now, he wanted her beside him. “I don’t know if you remember when we were at Gareth’s art show that Gideon asked me to give a talk to some foster kids he mentors who are aging out of the system.”
Her ponytail bobbed as she nodded. “I remember.”
“I’m meeting with those kids on Wednesday at six thirty. It’ll be informal. I’d like you to be there. I think you’d be a great inspiration to them.”
In her surprise, she almost lost her footing. “Really?”
“Yes.” If she knew he was asking her out on another date, she’d say no. But if she thought it was because she’d be an inspiration to those kids—and she truly would be, he meant that wholeheartedly—then she couldn’t refuse.
But no mistake about it: Dinner after the book signing had been a date. The cruise was a date. And this hike. If she agreed to go to his talk, that would be a date too.
Every time he was with her, it was a date. A glorious date.
She was blushing again, and he suspected she was flattered. “Well, that would be nice. But you’re the real inspiration.”
She was so modest. Maybe she didn’t even know what an inspiration she truly was.
He was about to say, Then it’s a date, but at the last moment, he decided not to push his luck. “Great. I’ll pick you up.”
“Get me at the office, okay? I probably won’t have time to go home.”
“All right.” He’d rather pick her up at her house, but he’d take what he could get.
And he would taste her again. Because he craved the feel of her in his arms, craved the taste of her. He also didn’t buy her reasoning that she’d brought all his favorite things for lunch only to repay him.
She’d done it because she liked him. Even if she wouldn’t admit it.
And she wanted him too. Her kiss had told him everything.
He would show her how much better it could get.
Chapter Fifteen
That kiss. Well, it was more than a kiss. It was a lot of kisses. And touching. And wanting.
Michaela sat in her car for long minutes after Troy dropped her off at the office. She’d practically jumped out, and when he opened the back of the SUV, she’d grabbed her boots, then her backpack, hugging it to her as if it were a shield.
They hadn’t talked about those kisses or the touches—or how close she’d come to begging him to do more—on the hike back or on the drive down the mountain. She’d talked inanely about how great the hiking boots were, how well they fit, how much hikers would love them—anything to avoid talking about what they’d done on that picnic bench. He’d told her to keep the boots. She’d said she had to pay for them. He’d said he hadn’t paid for them anyway.
And on it went, when really she wanted to say the kiss hadn’t meant anything. But what if he kissed her again to prove his point? Or what if he agreed that it meant nothing? The flurry of thoughts in her head was made all the worse by the tactile memories. How good he tasted, how sexy he smelled, how much she yearned for more.
But it wasn’t a date. It couldn’t be a date. Troy was all wrong for her. They were wrong for each other.
So here she sat in her car, fighting with herself.
The man jumbled her up, and she didn’t need her life all jumbled up. She started the car, pulled out of the parking garage beneath her office building, and saw him still sitting in his SUV on the street out front. As if he’d been waiting to make sure she was safe and on her way.
He waved. She waved back. Then she punched the gas pedal, and he disappeared from view.
She returned home to find her mother on the back patio of their townhouse, enjoying an iced tea. They had a small backyard Flo had filled with hydrangeas, rhododendrons, and azaleas. Hummingbirds flew in and out of the blooms, and squirrels chattered in the surrounding trees.