Chapter 7
~
June
My phone vibrated on the study table with an incoming message.
Chloe: Need help with this assignment. James is useless.
I couldn’t help but smile at the text, pausing in my note-writing to respond.
Me: Don’t say that, poor guy is trying his best.
Chloe: His best isn’t going to get us a passing grade.
Me: What about your best, Chloe? Last I checked this wasn’t a group project.
Chloe: No need to focus on the technicalities. So are you going to help us or not?
Me: Whatever. We can meet up on Friday after class but you owe me.
Chloe: You have the promise of my first-born.
I shook my head and put my phone down before finishing up on the last paragraph I was writing. When I was done, I got up to return the book I was reading back to its shelf.
Just as I slipped it back into its slot, I heard someone clearing their throat politely behind me. I spun around and came face-to-face with Ronan. Well, it was hardly face-to-face. He was so tall that I had to tilt my head back to make eye contact.
“Professor Locke,” I whispered in greeting.
“Ronan,” he corrected with a charming smile, keeping his own voice as low as could still be audible. “It’s good to see you again. I had a feeling I’d catch you here.”
I was suddenly very aware of just where “here” was.
We were standing in the narrow aisle between two bookshelves that almost touched the ceiling.
No one else was in this particular section, and with the atmospheric quiet wrapped around us, it felt a lot more intimate than I’d realized. Like we were in our own little world.
I took a small step back, creating a bit more distance.
“I guess I’m just that predictable,” I responded, surprised and more than a little curious to find out why he’d tracked me down.
“Less predictable than… dependably hardworking,” he said.
“That’s a flattering way to describe it,” I said.
“It’s an honest observation,” he replied. His hands slipped into the pockets of his cardigan. His tall, lanky frame oozed with such an easy confidence that it was impossible to not feel self-conscious in front of him.
But it was also difficult to not fall into a pattern of back-and-forth when talking to him. If Lucas was good at bringing out my intellectual passion, then Ronan was good at bringing out a playfulness that no one else except Madison had really been able to coax out of me.
“In fact, that’s part of the reason I came to find you. I have some good news. Our conversation over dinner the other night got me thinking; I have a few contacts on the board at Muller & Co., and I know that they’re currently looking for new talent. You immediately came to mind,” he said.
I remembered the look we shared as I was getting into the cab that evening. The looks that lingered over the rim of our wine glasses, the suggestive lilt to his otherwise frivolous words.
Then there was Lucas’s warning. At the time, I’d written our exchange off as inconsequential but now I vaguely wondered if there wasn’t another reason that Ronan had been thinking about me. Did I want that to be the case?
I chose not to say anything about it. What I did choose to point out however, amused, is that I’d had this conversation before.
“It’s funny.” I folded my arms, tilting my head to the side with a smile.
“Oren came to speak to me a while ago with basically the same proposition. Said he had a potential lead for me with the company as well. I should’ve started networking much sooner if I knew it was going to reap this many benefits so quickly. ”
I was mostly joking, but the moment I mentioned Oren’s name, something in Ronan’s eyes seemed to shift. His smile faltered.
“Oren means well,” he said, his tone ever smooth and confident in the way that I’d now come to expect from him. “But he’s still very young. I have the advantage of experience that confers many more… benefits.”
There it was again, a suggestion beneath a statement. An invitation to see more into it if I dared to. A completely inappropriate curiosity about what other sorts of benefits he might have been afforded by experience loomed in the back of my mind.
But with everything that’d been going on with Lucas, the last thing I wanted to do was read more into this than I needed to. He was offering me an opportunity and a legitimate one at that.
In the muted lighting of the library, his eyes looked like molten gold. Within this proximity, I could see the otherwise imperceptible fine lines of crow’s feet in the outer corners of his eyes, the graceful sweep of gray hair at his temples and in some parts of his beard.
I could smell his cologne, a heady mix of earthy woods and warm spice. His scent was just as sophisticated and inviting as the heat in his eyes, the attractive signs of maturity I could now notice that I hadn’t before.
Focus, June.
“I appreciate the consideration,” I said simply, trying to strain all unnecessary emotion from my voice.
But Ronan’s gaze burned into mine with an almost roguish amusement. As though despite my attempts at covering up my attraction to him, he could see straight through my charade and was poking at the mask.
“I’d like to invite you out to discuss this in more detail over drinks. Next Friday, The Blind Tiger at, say, seven?”
I hesitated even though my immediate response was to say yes. Was that because of the potential for a career boost or because being this close to Ronan made the air between us feel like it was crackling with electricity? I didn’t know.
But this was the year I was supposed to be taking chances. Overthinking didn’t fall into the equation.
“The Blind Tiger at seven,” I confirmed. An off-campus bar, and not exactly the cheapest option.
He inclined his head in greeting. “See you then, June.”
With that, he promptly turned and left, leaving me bubbling over with questions I didn’t really want the answers to.