2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Harrison
I ground my teeth together. My students know better than to leave their phones on during class; anyone whose phone disrupts us is ridiculed and made to read any text messages aloud. Scanning the crowd, my eyes landed on a woman—most definitely not an eighteen-year-old—fumbling with her bag. Her curly red hair was pulled back from her exquisite face, and her tailored blouse and black pants indicated a level of professionalism not often seen in college students.
The reporter.
I sighed. When the university asked if I would be okay with having a reporter attend class to write an article, I was apprehensive. But I did have big news to share with the entire community, and this magazine was the ideal place to do it. After all these years, I’d been invited on another dig in just a couple of weeks. Getting out in the dirt again appealed to a core part of me, and I couldn’t turn it down. They’d expressed concerns, but I was more fit at forty than I’d ever been in my twenties. I’d made sure of it.
“Read it! Read it!” the students chanted as the woman froze with her phone in her hand.
Her mouth dropped open. She was stunning, but rules were rules. “Ms. Vargas, I presume?” I asked as her gaze locked on me.
She nodded. “I’m so sorry.”
A voice in front of her piped up, “Not good enough!”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I explained. “If someone leaves their phone on during class, they have to read the message aloud.”
“But . . .”
I shrugged. “I don’t think the kids will let you out of this one. Many of them have had to do it.” Trying to keep myself from smirking, I wondered if she would actually read the message to the group. I’d probably let her out of the deal if she protested enough.
She sighed and glanced down at her phone. “An Elvis movie marathon sounds great! Let’s plan it ASAP. How about the one where Ann-Margret does her signature . . .”
I raised an eyebrow, wondering whether to let her off the hook, but my curiosity overwhelmed me. “I very much doubt it cut off there. What is Ann-Margret famous for?” I suppressed a chuckle, since it was probably her dancing.
The woman cleared her throat. “. . . boob-shaking dance?”
Laughter echoed all around the room, and I snorted. The message did not disappoint. “Please silence your phone and enjoy the Ann-Margret boob-shaking. It’s pretty intense. She really does put all she has into it.” I wondered if Ms. Vargas was blushing, but it was hard to tell from so far away. I wonder what color her eyes are.
She laughed and put her phone back in her bag. “Done, and thanks.”
“Who’s Ann-Margret?” came a voice from the front of the room.
I laughed again. “Look her up, Mike. Okay, as I was saying, finals review . . .”
After class ended and as I was packing up my briefcase, I heard footsteps increasing in volume, echoing through the now-empty hall. I glanced up, and the reporter’s face came into view.
Green. Her eyes are a gorgeous shade of green.
“Mr. Keeler, I’m so sorry about before.” She reached out her hand.
“Harrison, please,” I said, shaking her hand, and a pulse of electricity shot through me before I let go. A wave of desire coursed through my body. She was even hotter up close.
“Harrison, I’m Katarina . . . Kat for short. Thank you for letting me sit in today. It was very interesting.”
I nodded. “You’re welcome, and sorry about the thing with your phone. I never would have heard the end of it if I’d let you break the rule.”
She smirked. “But finals are next week. You wouldn’t have had to deal with it for very long.”
I laughed. “Students talk, Kat, and I have a reputation to protect.” My stomach growled, and I glanced back at her. “Hungry? We can grab some food and you can ask me questions for your article. I assure you I’m even more agreeable once I’ve eaten.”
Kat laughed. “Me too.”
“Class is over though, so if you must answer that text, feel free to do so. Elvis movie nights are a big deal.”
She grinned, and my breath caught. Kat shrugged. “It can wait. It was just my sister.”
There was something about this woman, and the next sentence slipped out, the desire to know burning too brightly in the back of my mind to ignore. “Ah, that makes sense. I doubt your husband or boyfriend would dare send you something like that.”
Kat pursed her lips. “Wouldn’t know. I don’t have either, but what I do have is a sense of humor, so it may have been fine.”
Smiling, I gestured toward the top of the stairs. “Shall we?”
She nodded and climbed up first, and my eyes dropped to her ass in those tight black dress pants. I scolded myself. I shouldn’t be checking her out—not so soon after my divorce, anyway—but I found myself unable to stop. She was sexy, and probably ten years too young for me. I wasn’t sure how much that mattered anymore, but I’d been out of the dating scene for a long time. Not that this was a date. It was an interview. I needed to get it together, but just watching her, I wanted her. I shook my head, realizing how ridiculous that was. After my divorce, I’d insisted I needed time.
As I climbed the last stair and stood next to her, I glanced at her. “So, there’s pretty much anything you could want. It is Chicago, after all. Anything you’re in the mood for?”
The grin came back across her face, hitting me in the gut. “You know, I could really go for some deep-dish pizza. Is Fazini’s still open?”
I smiled back. “It is.” We made our way out of the building to walk the two blocks to the famous pizza place. “So, you know Chicago?”
“Mm-hmm. I actually went to this school, at this very college.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Really? You must never have taken this class then.”
“Of course I did.”
I stumbled. “But I’ve been teaching here for fifteen years. Surely, I must have taught you.”
She laughed. “You flatter me, but I just miss the cutoff. I’m 35, so I took that class seventeen years ago. Back then, it was . . .”
“Professor Hodges. I had him too.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Oh, funny. But you went exploring with your degree, at least for a little while. I just write about people discovering things.”
I shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with that. And anyway, my exploring isn’t over.” I clamped my mouth shut, not meaning to reveal that information so early in the conversation.
We stopped in front of Fazini’s as she turned to me with a grin. “Is that so?”