Chapter Two
Amber
I haven’t looked twice at a man in more years than I care to remember.
Oh, I dated when I could, my mom watching L.J.
, but anyone I went out with freaked out at the mention of my having a kid or never called me again.
Lately, I’ve been too busy being a mom and keeping my head above water financially and emotionally to worry about meeting anyone.
But I am looking now because Shane is a very attractive man.
We settle into an outside table and chairs with hamburgers and French fries in front of us. I take a sip of my soda, aware of his heated gaze on the purse of my lips around the straw. We certainly share an immediate attraction, I think, dropping my stare to the food in front of me.
I don’t have to look at him to be aware of his handsome face covered by a scruff of beard, warm brown eyes, and what look like soft, kissable lips.
I squirm in my seat, unaccustomed to my body’s reaction to the man.
Any man. It has been so long since my sex pulsed in delicious response to the opposite sex.
Have I used my battery-operated boyfriend?
For sure. But even those moments are few and far between with a little boy in the house.
But this man with his nice body, his short-sleeve tee shirt pulling tight over his muscular frame, has me thinking about doing other things in my bed.
Adult things I haven’t experienced in far too long.
“So the campus is a circle with roads situated like spikes that lead to different areas and buildings,” he says.
His statement brings me out of my surprisingly sensual musings, and I meet his gaze, doing my best not to blush. I hope.
As he describes the town, I am drawn by the rasp of his husky voice. “You turned down the wrong street the first time,” he says, an amused tilt to his lips.
Clearing my throat, I nod. “Picking the wrong street would explain things. I’ve also been a little distracted.”
And I’m not just talking about being preoccupied right now with thoughts of him. And my vibrator. Oh, good God, I think to myself. Just stop! Focus.
Forcing my mind back to the mundane, I go on to explain. “The movers just dropped the boxes off that need to be unpacked, and my son left to spend a few weeks with his grandparents. I’m not used to being without him.” Glancing up at him, I meet his curious gaze.
“You have a son?” He blinks, and I realize he has long, thick lashes, the kind I have to use mascara to obtain.
“I do.” Maybe I’m testing him, tossing this bit of information out when we are just having a friendly dinner.
But I’d rather know than find myself interested in the man only to discover he is just like every guy I’ve dated before him.
Not that I am dating him. Oh, my God, this man has me so internally flustered.
Still, my son not only comes first, he is everything in my world, and any man in my orbit needs to know it. “He’s ten, and he’s a great kid,” I can’t help but add with a grin.
“Are you married?” Shane asks bluntly, his gaze scanning my fingers, no doubt in search of a wedding ring or telltale tan line.
I shake my head.
“Divorced, then?”
I don’t mind the questions. I opened the door, and of course he is curious, but people do tend to judge me.
There were the moms at the preschool, where I was the youngest one dropping off my little boy, which happens when you get pregnant at the age of twenty.
They stared and whispered as if I did something wrong.
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, catching the way I nearly succumbed to awkwardness at the truth of my life. Instead I square my shoulders and own who I am. “No. I’m a single mom.”
His eyes open wide. “Kudos to you. My mom raised me alone, and I know how hard it must be for you. Forgive me for saying so, but you must have had him when you were young.”
“I did,” I murmur and take a bite of my burger instead of explaining further. My life is complicated, my past painful, and I’m not going to elaborate with a stranger.
He leans in closer, and I catch a hint of delicious-smelling aftershave. “I didn’t mean to strike a nerve.”
“You didn’t.” I begin to shake my head and decide to tell the truth. “Well, maybe you did. People can be judgmental. But clearly, you’re not, so we’re good. Now can you tell me more about the shopping around here?”
His gaze settles on mine for a long moment before acknowledging my subject change with a nod of his head.
“There’s an Acme on the west side of campus, and if you go farther into town, there’s a Stop & Shop.
For the rush things you might need, there’s a store on campus that sells everything from college gear to quick snacks and basic toiletries.
And for real shopping, you get on 95 and head south to the mall.
” He follows up that summary by picking up his drink and taking a long sip.
I grab my cell and type shorthand information about everything he said into my note app. “Well, that helps. A lot. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We eat, finishing up the remainder of our meals in companionable silence until my phone buzzes, and I glance down.
Carrie’s text shows on my screen. Shower time. L.J. will FaceTime you in about thirty minutes.
I glance at Shane. “I need to get going. My son is going to FaceTime with me soon, and I don’t want to miss the call.”
“I get it. You’re a good mom.” He smiles at me, the beauty in his expression taking my breath away.
“Thank you. I try to be.”
Because we ordered and brought our trays outside, I start to gather things together.
“I’ve got it,” he insists.
“Okay … well, thank you for getting me to the right place. And for dinner.” He paid despite my protests.
“You’re welcome.”
A pause ensues, the first truly awkward silent moment since we met. I don’t know what to say, and he seems equally uncertain. Will he ask to see me again? Take my number? I realize we haven’t even exchanged last names.
And I’m not even sure if I want to get involved with a man now. Although my best friend from Tampa, Layla, insists it’s time I try dating again, I’m not ready. Considering I just moved to a new state, a new guy is the last thing I think I need.
And since Shane, despite the occasional intense and lingering looks my way, doesn’t seem inclined to make a move, I decide to wrap things up. “Well, thanks again, and it was nice meeting you.”
Feeling like a dork, I wave a hand in the air, turn, and walk away, hoping I am headed in the right direction this time. And doing my best not to turn around and look back to see if he is watching me.
* * *
Shane
I watch the sexy sway of Amber’s hips as she walks away, damning myself for letting her go without exchanging numbers.
Despite the fact that I know it is for the best. With the summer session beginning, I have two months to work on my paper in between teaching Intro to Economics as a substitute for a fellow professor, a friend who is on sabbatical.
I always throw myself into my work, determined to be successful in a way my father told me I’d never be.
My father, and I use the term loosely, is a lawyer at a major Boston law firm, who divorced my mother when I was five years old and married the partner’s daughter in the firm where he worked, starting a new life and a new family. Leaving my mother to raise me essentially on her own.
Sure, there was alimony and child support, but my mom was a single parent, there for me when I was sick, picking me up after school, attending every major event in my life when my father didn’t.
Yet despite being a mostly absentee parent, Zachary Warden, a top corporate attorney, expected his only son to follow in his footsteps if I wanted him to pay for college.
My decision to become a college professor was a disappointment to Zachary, one he never let me forget.
Not even when I graduated summa cum laude from Yale with an MBA and a minor in economics.
And my father didn’t pay for my education.
Instead, I took loans and worked my way through college, determined to live life on my own terms, preferring to bury myself in academia rather than legal briefs or corporate mergers.
I enjoy teaching students and watching them succeed.
Earning tenure will be the final step I need to ensure the future I’m working toward.
Succeeding is important to me and not to prove something to my old man, with whom I have no relationship to speak of.
I have a goal, and I’m determined to reach it.
Tenure and job security mean everything to me, and I nearly had my dreams derailed thanks to a student who reported me for coming on to her when I was an adjunct professor at another school.
Not only hadn’t I made a pass at her, she approached me in my office, practically stripping before I could stop her.
I turned her down. Not only because of the no-student-teacher-fraternization policy, but because I had no interest in the younger girl.
Even after I was proven innocent thanks to another student, who did the right thing and told the truth about her friend’s retaliatory behavior, the incident left a bad taste in my mouth for how my fellow professors treated me during the scandal.
They ostracized me until I was exonerated. I don’t need colleagues like that.
Seeking a new start, I came to Linton when a friend here told me of a job opening, and I don’t regret the move.
Though I date on occasion—I am a normal man, after all—I am always careful to choose women who aren’t involved with the school.
Women who are busy with their own careers and aren’t looking for a man who would shower them with attention.
I don’t have much time to give. Still, it’s been awhile since I’ve been with anyone, my paper and my teaching taking up all of my time.