14. Kat
14
KAT
I ’m never this nervous.
I regularly give lectures to over a hundred students. I’ve interviewed in front of panels, given talks at conferences in front of hundreds, if not thousands, of people.
And nothing has made me more unsettled than the idea of heading over to Blake’s office in a few minutes.
My hormones were on high alert all through dinner last night. Actually, that’s a lie. My hormones have been working overtime practically since I met Blake. And if there was any question about whether I was attracted to him, it was settled as soon as he pulled me into his arms for a hug.
I pull in a deep breath and straighten my spine. Focus, Kat. This isn’t a real relationship. Not only that, but it’s a situation that’s helping us out.
If we up the ante and turn this into something real, it has the potential to end badly. Which puts me right back in a position of having to turn down Adam’s advances while balancing it with my goal of promotion. The same tricky situation that landed me in this spot in the first place.
Besides, we’re not meeting to talk about relationships or how good Blake smells or what I wish he’d do with his hands. We’re meeting to work on the curriculum for this new course. The thing we were supposed to do last night.
But despite not getting around to doing the one thing we had on our agenda for last night, I had a good time. A great time, even.
Blake is easy to talk to. So much so that I almost over-shared, although I’ll blame that one on the alcohol.
God, that margarita was good. I’m craving another one already. Maybe I can get Angela and Naomi to come to Mod Mex instead of meeting at my house Friday night.
“How are things?”
I look up from my desk, startled to see Dean Kashman at my office door.
“Hi, Adam. Good. How are you?” I mentally groan as he steps into my office and takes a seat.
“Good, good. How are things coming with that course you and Grantham are working on? Will it be ready for next semester?”
Who develops an entire new course in a few months? It’s nearing the end of October already. The likelihood of getting this hammered out as an outline by Christmas is fair, but having it ready to go in January? That’s about as likely as me quitting my job to play the harmonica full time, or something like that.
Which is to say, between zero and none.
“Probably not,” I say. “Next fall is a better bet. We want to make it a success.”
Adam nods thoughtfully, and I mentally pat myself on the back.
Good answer.
“Well, then. Keep up the good work.” He stands to leave but turns back just before he reaches the door. “If you’re available, I’m having a few faculty over to my house. Cocktails and finger foods, conversation. That type of thing. Next Wednesday night, if you and Grantham are available.”
I get the message loud and clear. I’m invited with Blake. And while I’m excited to be asked, I’m also pissed off. Because Adam’s been having these little gatherings for as long as I’ve known him. People he invites—white men, typically, and their female partners—tend to end up on the short list for promotion or tenure or an endowed chair.
I’ve never been invited. But clearly, now that I have a man in my life, I’m worth socializing with. Or maybe it’s Blake who’s really invited, and I’m just coming along as his partner. The thought is infuriating, so much so that I almost don’t want to go.
But promotion is what I’m after, and I’ll do whatever it takes.
Within reason. I’ll tolerate Adam and his smarmy smile and off-color jokes, but I won’t go out with him. No way in hell.
I grit my teeth, careful not to let my smile falter. “I’ll ask him. We’ll let you know.”
On the plus side, the anger is now overshadowing my nerves as I head to the Econ department to meet with Blake.
I practically stomp down the hall, enjoying the loud click-clack of my heels, until I realize that if I stomp too hard, I could break the heel off, so I slow down. I paid way too much money for the red-bottomed shoes to take my anger out on them.
“Ready to plan?” I ask as I walk into Blake’s office without knocking and then shut the door behind me. “And then I have to talk to you about something. I’m too mad to do it right now.”
He looks up from his desk, where he’s writing something with a red pen, one eyebrow quirked. “Sure. Grab a seat.”
I choose the one closest to the door and sit. Pulling out my legal pad, I say, “I had a few ideas. Do you want me to run through them?”
He caps his pen and looks me in the eye. “In a minute.”
I get the sense he’s about to say something I won’t like. I mentally cross my fingers that he’s not going to pry into why I’m pissed off, especially when I already told him I wasn’t ready to talk about it. I was hoping he’d let it go and let me be angry before he asks me about it, but maybe not.
Blake leans back in his chair, the one I know he’s obsessed with after having the department buy him a new one.
My requests for a new desk chair, on the other hand, have been ignored for the last three years .
Blake clears his throat. “So. I might be off base, but I sense there’s some attraction between us.”
The blunt way he puts it all out there throws me off at first. I open my mouth to deny the accusation, but I can’t even summon the lie. And now that he’s put this out there, the anger at scoring an invite to one of Adam’s gatherings only because I’m with Blake is pushed to the back of my mind. For now.
“Let me clarify.” Blake pushes a hand through his short, dark hair. “I’m attracted to you, Kat. That one night we had together was mind-blowing. Truly.”
My pulse thuds so loudly I’m sure he can hear it, while a thrum of arousal courses through me. I swallow hard, hanging on his next words. Having him be so forthright about things is refreshing, sure, but somehow, it’s also nerve-wracking. What is he asking?
“I’m sensing that it’s not one-sided. Is that a fair assessment?” He studies me with that intense gaze of his, so confident and self-assured that I want to throw myself at him right now, consequences be damned.
“I suppose that’s not entirely incorrect.” Evasive? Maybe. But damned if I’ll be the one sticking my neck out first.
Plus, we can’t date, not for real. There’s too much on the line to be dating a coworker .
“Kat.” He frowns. “Cut the shit.”
My eyes widen for a fraction of a second before I hide my surprise. Damn, he’s blunt. It’s freaking intimidating.
“Fine. Yes, I’m attracted to you. Just maybe not your personality all the time.”
This garners me a smile. “Fair enough, although I think you like some parts of that personality.”
A blush creeps over my face at his words. “Okay. So we’re attracted to one another.”
Blake gives me a brief nod. “Yes. But I want to get it out in the open that I don’t do relationships. I don’t do more than one night.”
“Why?” The question pops out before I can stop myself.
He levels me with a stare. “Because of my career. Because I don’t want to. Pick any reason you want.”
I draw myself up as tall as I can while still seated. “Good. Well, that works out well because I’m focused on my career, too. So I’m glad we got that sorted. Can we work on the curriculum now?”
I look down at my legal pad, wondering why it feels like there’s something he’s not telling me.
“It’s a good start.” Blake taps the legal pad with his pen.
I have to agree with him. We’ve managed to outline a good chunk of the semester in the last few hours. I’ll need to do a little more research to flesh out some of this, but this is more than I thought we’d get done.
And I’d like to point out that I managed to sit next to Blake through all that time, only occasionally imagining his hands on me. Now that I know exactly where he stands, I can concentrate on work without thinking of him like that .
I just need the rest of my body to get the memo.
I stand and stretch. “This was good. I’ll get some more research done, and we can revisit the outline soon. Maybe next week?”
“Sure. Send me an email with what you’re working on so we don’t duplicate effort.”
“Will do.” I turn to leave, ready for a few minutes alone in my office.
“Kat?”
“Yes?” I look back at Blake, who hasn’t moved from his seat.
He scratches the side of his face. “You were mad about something when you got here. Did you need to talk to me about something?”
Shoot. I’d almost forgotten. “Yes, thanks for reminding me. Adam Kashman invited us to dinner. Me, technically, but it was clear he wanted you there. Both of us.”
“When?”
“Wednesday night.”
“Next week?”
It’s Thursday. Is he asking if we’re going back in time to yesterday?
I decide to leave the sass out of it. “Yes. Next week.”
Blake picks up his phone and swipes through it. I assume he’s checking his calendar.
“Sure. I’m supposed to meet up with my friends, but this seems more important.”
I wave my hand in the air in a dismissive gesture, not wanting to be demanding. “Oh, if you’re busy, it’s no big deal. We can go another time. He does this like once a month.”
Blake’s finger pauses on his phone as he looks at me, his face dead serious. “This is important to you. To your career. Right?”
“I guess.” Very important, in fact, for reasons that he probably won’t understand.
He tilts his head, his gaze never leaving my face. “Why were you angry when you got here?”
“What? ”
“When you got to my office. You said you needed to talk to me about something, but you were too mad to do it right then. And I’m assuming the dinner with the dean is the thing you wanted to talk about, yes?”
Damn him. How does he remember every little detail?
“Yes. I was just…” I blow out a long breath. “Adam’s been doing this ever since I’ve known him. Dinner with select faculty. It’s like an honor to be invited. The people he invites tend to end up with better committee assignments, on the shortlist for promotion, and things like that.”
He rubs his hand over his jaw. “So yes. This is very important to your career.”
“Yes. And it bothers me that until I was dating you, I’ve never been invited to one.” The anger boils up again. “Like I’m not good enough on my own. Like I need you there with me to prove I belong. I don’t know. It’s probably not worth being angry over, but it’s the same thing over and over. Older, white men get promoted, and everyone else gets left behind. And I’ve got more than one strike against me.”
“Kat.” Blake stands and crosses the room to me in a few long strides. He places his hands on my upper arms, strong but gentle, and looks into my eyes. “You have every right to be angry about that. I’m the one who should be coasting on your coattails, not the other way around. I’m absolutely coming to this dinner with you. And we’re going to show them that Kathleen Fucking Milas isn’t someone to mess with.”
He folds me into his arms, hugging me close against his chest. The beat of his heart calms me, and a laugh bubbles up.
“What’s funny?” Blake asks, not letting go.
“You called me Kathleen Fucking Milas.”
“Yeah. Because you’re a goddamn force to be reckoned with.”
I pull back enough to see his face. “It’s what my parents used to say. When I would worry that I wasn’t good enough or something. They were always my biggest cheerleaders while I was growing up.”
Until they let me down. But right now, we’re going to focus on the positives.
“Well, then.” Blake gives me another squeeze and lets go. “You give them a call and let them know they’ve got some competition for the title of your biggest cheerleader.”
“Thanks, Blake.”
As a smile spreads over my face, I realize that no matter how much I want Blake, like want him, I want him as a friend, too. I want this man in my corner, to bounce ideas off of him, to eat gelato in the food court. If I can only have one, I’d rather have his friendship than a physical relationship.
I just wish I didn’t have to choose.