5. Kat
5
KAT
M y heart pounds in my chest, and my palms are sweaty.
He turns around, and his blue eyes take me off guard. It’s a rare combination with his dark-brown hair, and in the low light of the bar and the bedroom, it wasn’t all that noticeable.
But in the bright light of the student union, they’re striking, and I’m momentarily speechless.
His eyes widen for half a second before his face creases into a smile, lines at the sides of his eyes appearing. “Kat. Hi.”
The nickname snaps me back into focus. “Um. Kathleen, actually.”
I hated the name as a child. It seemed old- fashioned, or maybe just too adult for an eight-year-old. I still prefer Kat, but at work, I’m Kathleen.
“Kathleen Milas. I teach Anatomy and Physiology in the Biology department.”
A look of surprise crosses his features before he recovers and holds his hand out. “Nice to officially meet you. Blake Grantham. Economics and Game Theory.”
I can’t say I’m not impressed. Game theory is a complex subject. But beyond coming over and introducing myself, I hadn’t really thought through this exchange.
“Shoot, I’ve got to run,” his companion says, shoving the last bite of his panini into his mouth. “Hi, Kathleen. Good to see you.”
He holds his hand out to me as well.
“Good to see you too, Professor Williams,” I say smoothly, shaking his hand.
We’ve been on the same faculty committee for four years. He’s a nice enough guy, although we’ve never gotten to know one another more than in passing.
I’m guarded with colleagues, especially the men. Getting the once-over from people who are supposed to respect you as a colleague wears on you after a while. I’ve learned to just keep a wall up, make sure they know that I’m here to work, not to be eye candy .
It translates into a bit of a reputation for being a hard-ass when it comes to the students, but that’s a price I’m willing to pay.
Plus, I know what they call me behind my back, and trust me, I’d rather be known as an ice queen than Hot Prof.
“Hey, why don’t you take my seat? Blake has time to chat, right?” He speaks around the food that’s still in his mouth as he pulls on a tweed jacket, despite the eighty-five-degree day. “Have fun.”
Blake, at least, doesn’t look as horrified at the impromptu lunch date as I feel. In fact, he has a smile on his face as he studies me.
His perusal is different than I’m used to. He’s focused on my face, his gaze never wandering south, and his expression suggests that he sees me as a puzzle, something that captures his interest, rather than a conquest.
Maybe it’s because he’s already seen me naked.
“Great idea. Why don’t you join me, Kathleen? I’d love some company.”
“Oh, I’m sitting with my”—I gesture over to the table, realizing as I do that Angela and Naomi are walking out of the student union—“friends. But they just left, so I suppose I can join you. ”
So much for them being my backup. Worst wingmen ever. Wingwomen?
Shoot, that was awkward. I’ve officially lost the upper hand. If I ever had it to begin with.
I take a deep breath. Time to regain control. It’s one thing to let Blake take control in the bedroom—it was freaking hot, if I’m being honest. But this is my career. I never would have gone home with him if I’d known we were coworkers.
The last thing I need is this man opening his big mouth and telling everyone about our one-night stand. Especially about the part where I let him have control.
I can just imagine the field day the students would have with that. It may be even more damaging than if they found out about the modeling jobs I took on to pay for college.
“So, Professor Kathleen Milas. How long have you worked at Ardmore College?” Blake takes a bite of his panini.
I fold my hands in front of me, realizing I left the last bite of my own lunch on the other table. I glance over. It’s gone, which means one of the girls must have tossed it. Or stolen it. My money is on Naomi, since she hates wasting food.
“I’ve been here for five years.”
He wipes his mouth on a napkin. “Five years? Impressive. You don’t look—”
“Old enough?” I ask.
I get that a lot. Sunscreen, retinol, and finishing college in three years will do wonders. But at thirty-two, I’m plenty old to be where I am.
He laughs. It’s a deep, rumbling laugh that vibrates through me. “Bet you hear that one all the time, huh? Sorry. They say you should never ask a woman her age. I should have known better.”
My stomach rumbles. I touch a hand to my abdomen, trying to force it to be quiet, but Blake pushes his bag of chips across the table.
“Here. Help yourself.”
I take one and pop it into my mouth, chewing slowly.
Blake tilts his head as he studies me. “So. Five years in. You must have some good advice for a newbie like me.”
I swallow and dart my tongue out to catch the crumb at the edge of my lips. “I’ll do my best. Is this your first teaching job?”
He leans back in his chair slightly and holds his arms out to both sides. “First real job altogether. Age thirty-seven. ”
I laugh despite myself. “First job?”
He shrugs. “Took some time between high school and college, then I took a little break, then grad school and a post-doc. And now here I am.”
I’m curious about the break. Plenty of people take time between college and grad school, but almost all of them have a job during those years, and Blake said that this is his first real job. What was he doing during those years if he wasn’t working between college and grad school? And what was he doing between high school and college?
Blake leans in toward me like he’s sharing a secret. “Do you know the Econ department secretary?”
I know of her, that’s for sure. Everyone knows about Randi. She’s made no secret of the fact that she’s working at the college with the explicit goal of landing a professor.
With her approach to flirting, though, she’s likely to land in hot water with HR before she lands a faculty boyfriend.
I don’t think anyone’s let her in on exactly how much college professors make these days.
“Randi? Sure. You have your first run-in with her?” I reach for another chip.
Despite our one-night stand, the fact that I know exactly what he’s packing under those fitted dark- wash jeans, this isn’t as awkward as I would have predicted. It’s not awkward at all, in fact. Our conversation flows the same way it did that night, like we’ve known one another for years.
Blake rolls his eyes. “You could call it that. I think she’s been in my office four times today.”
I crack a smile. “She’s a campus legend. One of the frats had a competition a couple years ago to see who could hook up with her first.”
He raises an eyebrow as he crushes the foil from his panini into a ball. “How long did it take?”
“All year. She doesn’t sleep with undergrads.”
It pains me that I know so much about the student gossip mill. I try to stay out of all of that. It’s none of my business what the undergrads are doing with their time.
“Interesting.” He looks around the student union, his gaze stopping at the gelato counter. “Want dessert? My treat.”
“Sure.” I’ll have to skip dessert tonight, but the gelato here is worth it.
I follow him to the counter, where he looks to me to order first.
I peruse the options but settle on my favorite. “A small vanilla bean, please. ”
The server scoops it into the bowl and passes it over while Blake studies the flavors, rubbing his chin.
“What do you suggest?”
I take a dainty bite of the sweet dessert. “I stick with vanilla, but from what I’ve heard, you can’t go wrong with any of them.”
He orders a chocolate, and we carry our bowls back to the table. I study him as he digs the little plastic spoon into the gelato and takes a huge bite.
“Oh my God,” he says, holding his hand in front of his mouth. “This is delicious. I’m going to gain five pounds from this stuff. I won’t be able to stay away.”
From what I’ve seen, the man doesn’t need to worry about his body at all. His Oxford shirt is tight across his broad shoulders. Heat creeps over my body, remembering the way he pushed me up against the wall, his muscles pressing into me.
No. We are not reminiscing, and we are not ogling the coworker. Focus, Kat.
“It’s dangerous,” I agree. “I try to bring my lunch so I’m not tempted every time I come in here.”
Also so I can work at my desk while I eat it.
He takes another large bite before he sticks his spoon into the remaining gelato and looks at me while he wipes his mouth. “So. Any advice on Randi? Seems like everyone has a story about her. ”
“No good stories here, sorry.” I take another delicate bite and think. “I don’t spend a lot of time in that building, though. All I know is that she’s perennially on the prowl.”
He pulls on the back of his neck. “I don’t want to be a dick. But I want to find a way to make it clear I’m not interested.”
I shrug. “I don’t think interest matters. She’ll just try to convince you.” I dab at my lips with a napkin. “This is another time it’s good to be in a relationship. You have a prop to explain why you’re off-limits.”
Like at the bar , I silently add, but it’s clear from his expression that he knows what I mean.
And he knows that we’re not talking about that night because we both agreed. No strings.
I peer at my watch. “I should really get going. I have a lot of work to do to get ready for the semester.”
And I need to get away from you before I slip and say something stupid.
Blake nods. “Thanks for joining me for lunch after Jeremy bailed. It’s always nice to get to know a new coworker.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that he’s seeing it my way. We’re pretending the thing in the bar, the thing where I was Kat, damsel in distress, never happened, and that our night of mind-blowing sex was a figment of our imaginations. That he only knows me as Professor Kathleen Milas, coworker .
I nod briskly. “Anytime. Glad to get to know you.”
I offer my hand and give him a firm handshake.
He gives me another grin, one that involves his whole face. “Maybe I’ll see you around campus.”