3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Kat
Harrison’s eyes widened as if that had been a secret. This was just the break I needed to steer it away from an article about a washed-up has-been to a comeback piece. Harrison Keeler going on another expedition—now that was something to report.
Clearing his throat, he gestured to the door. “Food first, please.”
I nodded. “Okay, but you’re not getting off that easy.”
He smirked as he opened the door, which highlighted his dimples. Damn. He just had to go being cute. His hazel eyes landed on me as he waited for me to pass through the door.
My eyes trailed down his body. Fuck, I was screwed. Not only was he a legend in the industry, but he was also incredibly hot. It had been too long since I’d been with someone, and he looked like a snack I wanted to unwrap. I entered the restaurant, shaking my head. I need to get a grip. Sure, he’s hot, a legend, and thought I was younger than my actual age, but he was also still the subject of my article. If I thought getting involved with my editor was bad, this could be way worse.
Nodding to the server, I requested the secluded booth in the back, which was miraculously unoccupied at this point. During college, it had been the place to make out where people couldn’t see you from the door. Not that I was planning on making out with him . . .
Although . . .
I shook my head. Stop it.
We settled across from each other in the booth, and he leaned toward me,tilting his head. “The make-out booth, hey?”
My face grew hot as I sputtered. Of course he knew. He’d gone to this school too. How stupid of me. “I mean, it is good for privacy, and it seems like you have a secret to spill. Were you a frequent patron of the make-out booth?”
He smirked. “Were you? Feels like we’ve both admitted it now.”
I crossed my arms, my cheeks heating, and said, “I’ve admitted nothing.” In reality, though, he was right. I had made out with a few college guys in this very booth. I’d never made out with a professor in it. Not that I was planning to now, right? My gaze dropped to his lips as I wondered what he’d done in this booth. How far had he gone with a girl here?
With a chuckle, Harrison shook his head and crossed his arms, mirroring me. “The fact you know of it and requested it is an admission in itself.”
I sighed. “Okay, I admit it. The allure of making out with a guy who bought me deep-dish pizza was too strong to resist.”
“That’s all it takes, huh?”
I blew out a breath. “Man, you just call me on all my bullshit.”
He shrugged. “Professor. It’s hard to turn it off.”
“Didn’t say it was a bad thing.” I leaned forward. “But who is doing the interviewing here?”
Taking his time, Harrison let his eyes caress my face, his gaze dropping slowly to my lips. “That’s a good question.”
My breath caught in my throat. “So, what’s the secret?” I blurted out, unable to help myself. I needed to get some control here. This conversation was turning too heated, and I needed to try to find some semblance of professionalism, even though it seemed like we’d breezed way past that already.
“I said food first.”
The reprimand shot a zing right to my core. Holy hell. I didn’t think I liked being challenged or commanded, but coming from him, it turned me on. “Okay, Professor.”
His eyes widened, and his chest heaved. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who liked how this exchange was going. He cleared his throat. “So why is your sister so fascinated with Ann-Margret’s boobs?”
I snorted. This was not at all the guy I’d been expecting today. He could set me on fire with a glance or a tone of voice, but then make me laugh with a direct joke. “Well, I don’t think it really is about her boobs themselves . . .”
“Really? That was her whole shtick there for a while.”
“Okay, fine, it is. That woman shakes them so hard with no bra on. It’s fascinating, painful, and amusing to watch. That’s all.” I held up my hands. “Have you seen that one?”
“I mean, she and Elvis did a few together—they were having an affair—but I think you’re referring to Viva Las Vegas , in which case, yes, I’ve seen it. But she does that in many of her movies, and on talk shows too.”
I laughed. “This must be the most bizarre way to start an interview that I’ve ever had.”
He shrugged. “You started it.”
“You resurrected it and made me read that text in front of the entire class.”
Harrison smirked. “I had no way of knowing what your text said. Although, that is one of the more embarrassing and best ones.”
I laughed. “I guess I did start it originally by me texting her about Elvis before I came in.”
“As one does?” he said as our pizza was placed in front of us.
I carefully picked up the thick slice. “When he reminds you of your dad, absolutely.” Sinking my teeth into the delectable slice of pepperoni deep-dish, I moaned. It had been too long, and this was exactly how I remembered it. I sighed. “You know how things often aren’t as good in real life as you build them up in your head to be? This pizza still is.” I took another bite as Harrison dug in.
“You’re right. It’s been a while since I’ve been in here too.”
“But you live here. You can come whenever you like.”
“The place is usually crawling with students, and besides, I work hard for this body.”
After nearly snorting a pepperoni, I glanced back at him. “Well, thank you for putting it in jeopardy for me.”
He laughed. “Wanting to do a story about me twenty years after my discovery was intriguing. And the timing couldn’t be better.”
I leaned forward. This was it. The thing that could turn this piece around. After meeting him, I didn’t want to write a has-been piece. He was way more fun than I’d even imagined. The scent of cedarwood and mint hit me as I leaned closer, the desire to be near him having to do more with my attraction to him than the secret. “So, are you ready to tell me about that? Should I take notes?”
He smiled. “Let’s finish eating first,” he said, before taking a giant bite of his pizza.
I pursed my lips. “Tease.”
Harrison swallowed and grinned. “Maybe I don’t want you to rush out of here just yet. You get what you want and you’ll run away. It makes me feel cheap.”
Holy crap, he’s funny. And people thought archaeology was boring. His lecture had been amusing and animated, so it was plain to see he was a great professor. “Do you miss it? Digging in the dirt, getting filthy, the discoveries?”
His hazel eyes locked on mine. “Has the interview started? Anyone would think you haven’t been listening to what I keep saying about food. Do I need to keep you after class?”
My throat went dry, thoughts of what he would do to punish me running through my head. How would he be in bed? Did I want to be punished by him? I really did. “I am being a bad girl, aren’t I?”
He leaned forward, his nose practically touching mine as he whispered, “So bad.”
I swallowed, my body heating as the server came to refill our waters, but Harrison’s gaze never left mine, even when I leaned back. I wanted to do all sorts of wicked things with this man, which seemed insane considering we’d just met. But his heated gaze went right through me, and I wanted him.
Needing to steer this back to professional again, I shook my head, breaking eye contact. “I didn’t intentionally start the interview . . . I was curious, but depending on your answer, maybe we are. Why did you give it all up, anyway?”
Picking up his slice of pizza, he sighed. “I was afraid . . .”
“Of what? Off the record.”
He shrugged, then took a bite and chewed it slowly before continuing. “That there wouldn’t be anything else to discover. That I’d lose my girlfriend at the time if I kept traipsing about the world. Traveling was never really her thing. So I settled down, married her, and found the most stable job I could think of that was still in the area of what I loved.”
I sat up straighter at the mention of a wife. I’d been allowing myself to be attracted to him, and that should have been the cold bucket of water over the head that I needed, but he’d been flirting with me too. I hadn’t been imagining the innuendo, the tone in his voice and his heated gaze. My eyes dropped to his left hand.
No ring.
He must have noticed me looking because he flexed his hand. “Didn’t last, anyway.”
My eyes shot back up to his. “Oh, divorced?”
He nodded. “I was unhappy . . . for a long time. After staying in one place for so long, I told her I couldn’t do it anymore, and we called it quits.”
Even though I ached to ask how long ago it was, I let it go for now. It must not have been long if he was still in the same place rather than traveling again. I pursed my lips. “But you’re still here, teaching?”
“That’s about to change . . . on the record?”
“If you like.”
Harrison hummed, the sound again shooting right through me. “How long are you in Chicago for?”
My mouth dropped open. Was he going back to coming on to me now? The shift into professional didn’t seem to last long. “Uh, I was planning on driving back today. I don’t live that far. I’m from Wisconsin.”
Nodding, Harrison said, “It’s going to be too noisy in here soon. How about somewhere quieter for the actual interview? My apartment?”
The water I’d just sipped got stuck in my throat, and I coughed. “Your apartment?” I repeated, my body heating all over. Was that what I wanted? The subtext was clear. He was attracted to me, and the shameless flirting could lead to more if I wanted it to. He was letting me decide.
“If you want to, or we could do the interview over the phone. We could have done that in the first place.” His heated gaze locked on mine as it hit me.
He was giving me an out.
I would get my interview regardless. Harrison wouldn’t pressure me into anything. He was shooting his shot. My mouth went dry again, a million thoughts racing through my head, but I kept coming back to one.
I wanted to.
“Okay,” I said. “Your apartment it is.”
His chest heaved as he reached for his wallet.
I placed a hand on his arm. “Oh, please.”
“I can’t let you pay.”
I laughed. “This piece is a business expense, but anything after this won’t be.”
He laughed and nodded as I paid. Harrison stood, reaching his arm out to me. “My apartment isn’t far. We can walk.”
My eyes widened as I slipped my arm into his. It had been a while for me. I wondered how long it had been for him. How long ago was his divorce? Maybe I should have asked. “Should I do the interview before or after?”
Harrison froze, and I realized I’d voiced that thought out loud. He glanced at me, clearing his throat. “Before or after what?”
My gaze dropped to his lips as I bit my own. Surely I wasn’t misreading this, was I? What the hell was I doing? I couldn’t let something physical interfere with my job, not again.
As the wheels spun in my head, Harrison turned so we were facing each other, his gaze flickering over my face. That look sent heat spiraling through me. Holy hell.
“Maybe this is a mistake,” I whispered.