Page 2 of Single Malt

Shit.

Even though I hated to admit that I hadn’t heard him, I wasn’t going to make the mistake of trying to answer a question I hadn’t processed correctly. I didn’t, however, feel like I had to tell him exactlywhyI’d been so distracted.

“I’m sorry. My mind got away from me for a minute.”

“No apologies necessary,” Dr. Josephs said with a wide smile. “I often have similar experiences when, in the middle of a conversation, I’ll suddenly come to a new understanding of symbolism inThe Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. By the time I emerge from that near-trancelike state, fifteen minutes have passed, and I find myself alone, waxing eloquent about James Joyce.”

Strange, but a nice guy.

“Thank you. Now, if you don’t mind repeating the last couple things you said, I’ll have an answer for you.”

For the next twenty minutes, Dr. Josephs and I kept on topic, and by the time he excused himself to speak to the head of the English department, I was feeling pretty good about how the whiskey had been received. The only people who hadn’t liked the whiskey were the two professors who had told Dr. Josephs that they weren’t really big fans of alcohol in general. That balanced out the three wine drinkers who’d been pleasantly surprised that they’d actually enjoyed something new and non-fruity.

All of that meant that I was one step closer to closing the deal, and I should’ve been thrilled.

Iwasthrilled.

I was also trying to find that blonde again, something that was made increasingly difficult by the number of people who decided that they wanted to know who the unfamiliar face was. Normally, I’d have been thrilled at all the networking, but now, it was just annoying.

By the time everyone had gathered near the insanely large grandfather clock to watch the last five minutes of the year count down, I’d seen the blonde three more times. Once, I’d been close enough to see that she had heart-stopping clear blue eyes, and I thought she smiled at me that time too.

Then, suddenly, she was a foot to my right, draining a glass of champagne and giving the entire room a bored sweep. Bored until her eyes met mine. She raised a single eyebrow, and that was all it took for me to close the distance between us. Even though the room wasn’t loud, I still leaned close to put my mouth next to her ear before speaking.

Damn, she smelled good.

“If I kiss you at midnight, will your partner hit me?”

She looked up at me, lips twitching with amusement. “Partner?”

I shrugged and grinned. “I make no assumptions about a person’s sexuality.”

She considered me for a moment. “And how do you knowIwouldn’t hit you if you kiss me?”

I wasn’t surprised at the sharp wit. Stanford, after all. I was surprised, however, by how much the banter turned me on.

“If you say no, I’ll respect that.” I took in her full expression, her body language, and then took a little risk by brushing my arm against hers. When she didn’t step back or tell me to leave her alone, I knew I’d read her correctly. “But I’d really like to kiss you in twenty seconds.”

She waited ten of those twenty before placing a hand on my arm. “All right. You better be worth it.”

My smile widened. It’d been a long time since someone had issued a challenge that I’d wanted to rise to this badly.

“Five.”

I placed my hand on the side of her neck, ran my thumb along her jaw.

“Four.”

I didn’t take my eyes off hers.

“Three.”

I leaned down, moving slowly, giving her time to change her mind if she wanted to.

“Two.”

My mouth hovered over hers, and it felt like no one else was in the room.

“One.”