Page 8 of Tempting the President (Oro Nero MC)

IT’S BEEN A WEEK SINCE I made the worst decision of my academic career, and I still can’t sit in my office without thinking about strong hands and whispered commands and the way Patrizio Steele looked at me like he could see straight through every professional facade I’ve ever constructed.

Which is ridiculous, because I’m a grown woman with a PhD, not some romance novel heroine who gets derailed by one admittedly spectacular encounter with a devastatingly attractive man.

Except apparently that’s exactly what I am.

I’ve been trying to avoid him by changing my routine completely. Taking different routes to class, grading papers in the faculty lounge instead of my office, even switching to a different coffee shop three blocks away instead of the convenient Caffeinated Pages on the ground floor of his building.

The problem is that Patrizio Steele seems to be everywhere I try to hide.

Yesterday he was coming out of the university administration building just as I was going in.

The day before, I spotted him through the window of the coffee shop I’d fled to, talking to someone on his phone while leaning against what was probably a very expensive car.

This morning, he was standing in the lobby of my apartment building (yes, mine!) when I came down to check my mail, looking like he belonged there more than I did.

Every time I see him, he gives me that slow, knowing smile that suggests he’s perfectly aware I’m running from him and finds my attempts at avoidance deeply amusing.

“Triple shot cappuccino, extra foam, no sugar?”

I look up to find a pretty blonde barista approaching my table with a refill and a smile that lights up her whole face. Something about her makes me think of the cool girl in high school who was somehow friends with everyone without trying.

“On the house,” the younger woman adds, setting the cappuccino down with a flourish.

My eyes widen. “Are you sure?”

“You look like you need it. That page has been staring back at you for twenty minutes, and I don’t think either of you is winning the standoff.” Her eyes twinkle with good humor.

I wince and offer a sheepish smile. “Was I that obvious? I hope I haven’t driven away your customers with my doom cloud.”

“Rough semester?” she asks, tucking the empty tray under her arm. Her gaze flicks to my stack of ungraded papers and the red pen I’ve been tapping against the table for who knows how long.

“Something like that.” I don’t want to lie...but I don’t want to admit the truth either, which is how my unhealthy obsession over a certain student’s older brother has turned my brain into academic mush.

“I totally get it. College can be brutal. What are you taking up?”

I’m flattered and embarrassed by her mistake. “Actually...”

Ten laughter-filled minutes later, and George and I have gotten things straight about each other.

She’s twenty-five, no boyfriend since birth, and divides her time between her job and night school.

A business major with a minor in literature, which explains why she kept eyeing the worn copy of Jane Austen peeking out from my bag.

She treats Caffeinated Pages like her own living room, moving between tables with the ease of someone who knows exactly where she belongs in the world.

George, on the other hand, is still shaking her head in amazement that I’m a bona fide college professor...who also happens to have the same taste in books as she does.

“Have you read Eina L. Haze’s newest?”

Why, darn it?

Why is it that everyone seems to know what I’ve done my best to hide my whole life?

“I think I should make one thing clear,” I say awkwardly, unconsciously dropping my voice to a whisper even though no one is close enough to overhear. “I read those books for research, not for fun.”

“Oh, I see.” Her eyes sparkle with amusement, making me suspect she doesn’t believe me for a second.

Phew .

“That’s just so cool, Prof. I mean, it just goes to show how you really can’t judge a book by its cover.”

“Uh, yes.” Why do I feel like I’m missing something again?

“I mean, I’m familiar with the titles you’ve read recently since they’re the same books I’ve also read.”

Claimed by the Alpha. Dominated by the Biker. Submission to the MC King.

I try not to wince as George rattles off the exact same titles that got me in trouble with a certain man I’m still doing my best to forget.

I think...I think it’s time I deleted those books from my device.

“Oh, and of course, Taken in the Hallway! You borrowed that more than once, didn’t you? It’s my absolute favorite, too!”

“It’s not my favorite.”

I can’t believe I’m lying about this again.

“It’s just for research,” I insist, feeling my academic reputation crumbling by the second.

“Oh, right. I keep forgetting.” George looks at me curiously, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “What made you realize you also want to write your own MC romance?”

What did she just say?

George smiles at me knowingly. “It’s because of Mr. Steele, isn’t it?”

My coffee cup freezes halfway to my mouth. “Mr. Steele?”

The younger woman nods eagerly, her eyes lighting up with genuine enthusiasm. “I saw you with him the other time, and when I told him you two look good together—”

“George!”

But she only laughs, completely unrepentant. “Well, it’s true. You two look perfect together, and that’s when he asked if I knew you in any way, and even though I told him I only knew you as one of our regulars—”

I let out a gasp. “Are you the one who told him how I like my coffee?”

“How do you know—” It’s George’s turn to gasp this time, a look of delighted scandal crossing her face. “Did he make you coffee?”

So what if he did?

“Do you know that he never makes coffee for anyone, not even his baby sister?”

It doesn’t have to mean anything.

It doesn’t!

She looks at me meaningfully, but I just gaze back at her, determined to play dumb.

“You know what that means, don’t you?”

“Nope.” I take a deliberately casual sip of my cappuccino, trying to look like a woman whose heart isn’t suddenly racing.

“Mr. Steele likes you!”

Oh yes, I mean, no!

“And you like him back—”

“I do not!”

But George just laughs, the sound warm and genuine. There’s something about her laugh that makes you want to join in, even when you’re the target of her teasing. “Almost everyone here would kill to date Mr. Steele—”

She suddenly stops speaking, and I look at her warily. “What?”

“It was the way you looked at me.”

What does she mean—

“You looked really jealous—”

“I was not!”

“When you thought I was one of the girls who’s after Mr. Steele—”

“You’re mistaken!”

“Which I’m not, by the way,” George quickly clarifies, her expression softening with sincerity, “so please stop looking at me like I just killed your dog?”

“I never—” Oh, how ridiculous! “How —” Like, seriously!

But the way George is just grinning makes me feel all my sputtering is for naught.

“You’re imagining things,” I insist huffily.

“You don’t have to hide anything, Professor.” She leans in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “The best romances are the ones we never see coming.”

Argh .

If only George’s tone isn’t so sweetly earnest, I think I would have attempted shaking some sense into her.

“Mr. Steele is a catch any way you look at it. He ticks all the boxes for a romance novel hero come to life—” Her eyes take on a distant, appreciative look, but it’s more like she’s admiring a piece of art than expressing personal interest.

“If he’s so perfect—” Argh . Why am I still being so grouchy when George’s already assured me she isn’t into him? “—then why don’t you be the one to date him?”

“Oh, Prof.” George is laughing again, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“Says the one who’s been singing his praises for the past five minutes!”

“For you,” she stresses, wiping down the table with practiced efficiency that doesn’t interrupt our conversation. “I just really think you two look good together, and besides, I already have—”

George breaks off mid-speech, but it’s too late.

“You already have what?”

Because I’m so pouncing on it like any sensible woman desperate to get out of the hot seat would.

“Nothing.” She suddenly becomes very interested in adjusting the sugar packets in their ceramic holder.

Oh no, you are not getting out of this that easy, young lady.

“You wouldn’t have a hard time meeting my eyes like this if it were really just nothing.”

“Oh gosh, look at the time.” George starts backing away, a flush creeping up her neck. “I need to go back to work.”

Yeah, sure.

Not gonna happen.

Duh .

And so I follow her all the way to the counter where she starts to busy herself rearranging stacks of coffee cups that are already perfectly arranged.

“You really have me curious,” I say honestly. “What would make a girl like you not want to admit who you’re crushing—”

It’s my turn to break off when I see the way George has started blushing, the color spreading all the way to the tips of her ears.

“Don’t tell me—”

“I haven’t said a thing!”

Well, she doesn’t have to, with the way she’s now red as a tomato, and all I can do is gape at her.

“It’s not just a crush, isn’t it? You actually think you’re in love, aren’t you?”

My gasp has the few other patrons glancing in our direction, and George now looks like it’s her dearest wish to melt into nothing.

“Professor, your voice!”

“But I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I...I...”

—feel suddenly protective, that’s what.

And so I find myself crossing my arms over my chest. “Who is it, really? Something must be wrong with him if you’re not willing—”

George’s eyes widen. “Mr. Steele!”

I whirl around in shock...and find myself staring at empty space because George has totally pranked me, grrr.

George only grins when I turn back to her with a glower. “I guess I’m not the only one denying about being in love—”

“Oh, please.”