Page 28

Shawna spends a week helping me find the perfect dress for the fundraising gala. It’s green, of course, to accentuate my hair and eyes. Dark to highlight my pale skin and freckles. The neckline plunges in a deep V between my breasts that Shawna convinced me was the right amount of sexy.

A soft gold pattern overlays the top, but the bottom is the most beautiful of it all. Voluminous skirts billow out from my hips, making my waist look small. The layers are split to reveal a long slice of leg on the right.

Shawna would not let me hold back on this. I’m going to my first university-wide event as someone who has something to say, to pitch for donors to help support. And I’m showing up with Waylen as his plus one. Whatever that means beyond my want to make a good impression, I’m not so sure yet.

As much as my bestie has bolstered my confidence, the way Waylen’s eyes bug when he picks me up at her place—because I did not want my mother to ruin this moment—solidifies how sexy Shawna said I should feel.

I do feel sexy now. She’s done a good job to get him to look at me like this.

“You are stunning.” His voice is low, dark, almost like he wants to devour me.

My skin heats, and I smile at him in his black suit and matching green tie. How did he know? His hair has more curl to it tonight, styled with care—probably his daughter’s work—and he’s shaved the typical scruff from his face.

He looks ten years younger.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.”

His smile is devious, and I know I’m in trouble tonight. Waylen takes my hand and escorts me out to his sleek, black car. It’s a sports car, although I couldn’t tell you what kind it is.

When he hands me down into my seat, I feel like a posh socialite. Like one of those girls who stumbles into a billionaire romance novel. That’s not what this is, but I can appreciate the vibes, right?

Especially when Waylen slides behind the wheel and waggles his brows at me. We take off fast, and I let out a squeal of delight. The university isn’t far from Shawna’s apartment, but I warm to him when we’re at a light and he tentatively puts his hand on my knee.

His palm is hot on my skin, nearly searing me with desires I’ve been quelling. I’m aware of it for the entirety of the seven-minute drive.

Waylen opens my door and helps me out, which earns me his arm around my waist to keep me steady. We share a small laugh, remembering the way it feels when we’re pressed together. Alone.

I step back a little and smooth one of the curls from his forehead, tucking it back in place. My fingers find his collar next, straightening it and his tie to ensure he’s pristine.

Happiness flares in his eyes. Like pure joy at the little details I’m focused on.

Is it because it symbolizes my care? It’s such a small thing.

Waylen takes my hand and tucks it into the crook of his arm as he escorts me into the main ballroom of the student center. It’s done up beautifully in golds and reds, our university colors. Round tables start in a circle around a dance floor. A small stage up front for speeches and the auction.

The room is already half full with people. I don’t recognize most of them, but I spot a few teachers and students from the program. A few of the staff from the center.

My grip on Waylen tightens when I spot Nick across the room. He’s in a tight blue tux that matches his eyes, which I catch as Waylen walks me to a table with our names on it. Nick is in professor mode, as I like to call it. Giving nothing away, especially at a distance.

Waylen turns me back to him. “Would you like a drink?”

“Yes, please. Nothing too strong. I don’t want to make a fool out of myself.”

“You won’t.”

I smile and hold onto the back of my chair. I don’t want to sit yet. I’m too nervous. It gets worse when I spot Matteo too.

I should have known they would be here. It only makes sense. And I’m trying not to be nervous about it. Especially since neither of them have another woman on their arms.

Well, shit.

As long as nothing gets too personal, everything should be fine. Right? It’s not like I’ve promised any of them exclusivity.

It’s not like any of them have even asked.

I avoid looking at anyone in particular until Waylen returns. He hands me a flute of champagne with a slice of strawberry in it, and I smile at him. Very romantic.

His arm comes around my waist as a couple approaches. Someone that knows Waylen to be sure. He shakes their hands.

“Richard, Theresa, this is Olivia. She’s working on her thesis with us, running her own experiment in the center.” I note that he doesn’t call me his student. Naughty man. I get it though. “Something I’m fully behind.”

Ah, time for the professional wooing to begin. I explain my project, putting both a personal and professional spin on it that I’d practiced all week. I watch their interest bloom, shifting away from the indifference I usually get from people.

The same thing happens with the next group Waylen introduces me to. And the next.

I feel like I’m making headway. People are getting it. They’re interested. They’re asking the right questions.

This is going way better than I ever imagined.

“And I might also like to use my results to offer a new perspective for the doctors who try to blame everything on our fat in order to not have to deal with or treat us properly.” When I finish my initial spiel, one of a group of four men looks me up and down.

It tightens my muscles.

“How is anyone supposed to take your findings seriously when this is an obvious passion project stemming from a chip on your fat shoulders?” The twist of his mouth makes me stiffen further.

This is exactly what I’m combating, and I’m ready to show him my recent results from the blood test that Waylen performed. But I don’t have to say anything.

“Imagine thinking that was an appropriate thing to say out loud.” Waylen’s hands curl into fists as he takes a single step toward the man. “She’s perfect. You’re just not used to seeing it.”

I’m stunned. He shut that down completely. Defended me perfectly. He didn’t even hesitate.

“Why don’t we get another drink?” Waylen slides an arm around my back and steers me away from the group.

God, I’m a bit more taken with him. His earlier apology and the change I’ve seen in him have me even more smitten. If we weren’t here, in public, in front of Nick and Matteo, who I knew kept their own tabs on me as I worked the room with Waylen, I would have kissed him.

He must see it in my eyes because he grins at me. “We’ll have time for that later.”

I laugh softly. “Will we?”

His eyes glow, and I can see the dirty plans he’s concocting already. Ones he’s probably been thinking about since I put the brakes on our physical intimacy.

My cheeks grow hot, and he presses me closer before someone snags his attention.

“Go on. I could use a break from talking, and I can hold my own.”

His hand tightens at my waist before he releases me, pulled away by some other doctor or donor or professor. It doesn’t matter. I need the moment to breathe.

I grab myself another flute of champagne without the fruit and sip at it, walking in a slow circle on the outside of the party when Nick shows up at my side.

Boy, does he look hot in that tux. It’s almost better than his professor costume. Not nearly as good as when he’s nude.

His hand slides across my back as he leans in close and kisses my cheek.

“Hello, Liv.”