Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“Just filling in,” Gio says, completely unfazed. Clueless. “I’m a natural. In fact, hook me up with a lecture hall and I’ll give a speech.”
“Don’t doubt it,” I deadpan, shooing him out of my seat so I can sit.
Rachel clears her throat, clearly sensing the shift in the room. “Um, Professor Adams, I stopped by to ask about the extra credit assignment for next week? Uh. I was wondering if you were willing to extend the deadline?”
She knows my policy on making exceptions: there are none.
“Put that in an email and I’ll get back to you by the end of the day,” I tell her, cutting her off so she can’t linger.
Rachel steals another lovesick glance at Gio.
“Oh. Okay.” She glances at him one last time, her curiosity evident, before scurrying out the door.
Paul, however, remains, torn between staying and leaving.
“Paul,” I say pointedly, raising my brows.
“Right, yep, I’m going,” he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. But just as he reaches the doorway, he pauses, turning back to grin at me. “For the record, Gio is awesome. You should give him a chance.”
I’m startled, caught completely off guard as Paul finally steps out and the door clicks shut behind him.
What on Earth were they yapping about while I was stuck in my meeting?
The door clicks shut.
I turn my attention back to Gio, who’s now lounging in the chair opposite my desk, looking completely at ease—as if he belongs here, as if he hadn’t just derailed my entire day.
“Give you a chance?” I repeat, narrowing my eyes at him. “Care to explain what that’s supposed to mean?”
Gio leans back, his grin widening as he stretches his arms behind his head. “We were just talking. Paul asked some questions, I answered. Nothing scandalous.”
His eyes are practically sparkling as he watches me cross my arms over my chest.
“I doubt that.”
He raises a brow, his expression one of mock innocence.
“What? You think I was out here spreading lies?”
“I think,” I say slowly, “you were probably out here charming the pants off my students—and have not tried explaining to me what you’re doing here.”
He shrugs, completely unbothered. “Seemed like the best way to see you.”
I stare, dumbfounded. “Have you ever heard of texting? Or calling? Or literally any other normal method of communication?”
“Sure,” he says easily. “But where’s the fun in that?”
“You’re not supposed to show up at a person’s office unannounced—I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Right. You were given tickets to my office.”
My mouth gapes. “That is not the same thing and you know it!”
“Isn’t it?”
“No!” I practically shout, eyes darting to the closed door. I lower my voice, pointing a finger at him. “This is completely different.”
He tilts his head, pretending to consider. “Different how? Because I didn’t bring a sign?”
Wow. He thinks he is so cute and clever.
I let out a frustrated sigh, trying to ignore the heat creeping up my neck. It would help if he wasn’t so damn adorable and clueless.
“Gio, I have a job. A very serious, professional job. You can’t just waltz in here and act like…like—”
“Like I want to see you?” he interjects, his tone soft enough to have me blinking at him.
I’m speechless.
He leans back in the chair, crossing his legs, grinning as he watches me struggle to form a response.
“You know, for someone who spends her days lecturing people about sociology, you’re not very good at reading between the lines.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, though my voice comes out quieter than I’d like.
His shoulders move up and down as he regards me. “It means I’m here because I wanted to see you. No ulterior motives, no grand plan. It is what it is.”
The sincerity in his tone throws me.
My emotions are a tangled mess, and I can’t seem to settle on one long enough to form a coherent response.
I’m dismayed.
Pleased.
Confused.
Delighted.
He’s watching me, expression calm but curious, like he’s waiting for me to say something—anything.
I clear my throat, forcing myself to regain some semblance of composure. “You can’t just show up like this, Gio. It’s disruptive.”
“There’s that word again,” he teases. “What am I disruptive to? Your work?”
“Yes,” I say firmly, though the slight waver in my voice betrays me.
He untangles his legs and arms and leans forward, resting those beefy forearms on the desk, closing the distance between us.
“And here I thought professors were supposed to thrive under pressure.”
The way he says it causes me to tingle.
“Pressure is one thing,” I retort, trying to ignore the way his proximity is making my pulse race. “You’re something else entirely.”
“Good ‘something else’ or bad?” he asks, his grin widening.
I narrow my eyes at him, refusing to dignify the question with an answer.
I shiver again.
“If you’re going to stay, you need to behave.”
“Define ‘behave,’” he says, the teasing edge in his voice making it clear he has no intention of doing so.