Break Me Slowly(2)

His black hair was thick and coiffed perfectly in a rugged yet professional way that made my heart beat harder.

The driver stayed behind the wheel this time while the sinfully corporate-looking man walked toward me on the sidewalk. Those intense eyes never left my face.

“You should watch where you’re going.”

“I…” I looked up at him. Even in Megan’s four-inch heels, he towered over me. Jesus, he had to be pushing six-three.

He was close enough that I could smell him. Crisp and clean and amazing. He radiated power and confidence, from his broad shoulders to his lean hips. Who knew suits could look so good on a man. Every stitch molded over him perfectly. His strength was very apparent even through the layers of expensive fabric.

“Are you all right?” His voice was deep, but this time, there was a slight rasp when he spoke.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” A tremor slipped out and coated my voice.

“Can I offer you anything?” He looked down my body. Heat rushed over me. Shifting my weight, I tried to get a grip on my hectic heart rate. I knew I was staring—primarily at his mouth. It was thick and firm.

His gaze slid over me again. When it focused on my breasts, I inhaled sharply. Men had looked at me before, but none as blatantly as this. That heat that was pulsing? It surged so hot that my bloodstream caught fire.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, then realized he was really looking at the soy latte splattered all over the front of me.

Damn!

“I—I’ve got to go. I’m late.” And now I needed to find a new shirt.

Anger decided to spark just then, and irritation that this man—this sexy, sleek man—had interfered and made me feel all…weird.

Even though it was I who had walked into the street—and I who was lingering like a goon, undressing him with my eyes. Still! This morning was turning to hell quickly, and standing in the middle of downtown Chicago looking like a rumpled mess and being stared down by Mr. GQ was not helping.

“I must insist on giving you a ride.”

I glared at him. Hating how cool and calm he was. Hating that he was standing there like chiseled perfection while my hair was frizzing by the second and the sugar from my coffee was sticking to my chest. A moment ago I had been keenly aware of all his earth-shattering attributes. I had never paid any man such attention before. But that was drowned out by the awareness of my own shortcomings and general lack of grace.

I was a twenty-three-year-old virgin, a fact I rarely gave thought to, but for the first time, I felt like it was written all over my face. The second dose of heat that burned through me was much different than the first.

Shame.

Embarrassment flooded me and I just wanted to get away from this moment. Adrenaline was crashing. I needed to run. From him. From this whole situation.

“I don’t take rides from strangers.” The Walk light was now flashing across the street.

“What is your name?”

My gaze landed back on him. “Katelyn.”

“Well, Katelyn, I really must insist on giving you a ride.” The way he said my name made a shiver roll across my back.

“No need, I’m just right there.” I pointed to the university and moved in step with the foot traffic and crossed the street.

Careful not to look back.

~

I snatched a shirt from the campus bookstore on my way in. While it didn’t go with my heels and pencil skirt, it was dry. When I walked into Professor Martin’s office, he eyed me with confusion.

“Well, I admire your school spirit,” he said, his belly rumbling with each word. A brown sweater vest atop a tan button-down and chocolate corduroys completed Professor Martin’s look. The only contrast to his obvious obsession with earth tones was his half-bald head and white mustache. He sort of looked like Santa’s second cousin.

“I’ve heard wonderful things about you, Miss Gunn.” He gestured for me to sit. The room had rich wood furniture, like the big desk he sat behind and the matching chairs in the corner, and was decorated in different hues of chestnut. Go figure. From the carpet to the paintings—brown, brown, and more brown.

“Thank you so much. I am excited to be your assistant this year.”

“Tell me, what is your long-term career goal, Miss Gunn? Academia or workforce?”

I folded my hands in my lap. “Well, I’d like to be a social worker.”

He sat back and nodded. “I see. That can be difficult. Takes a tough skin to see what goes through there sometimes.” He smiled. “But they need all the good people they can get.”

I couldn’t help but smile back. Professor Martin was nothing like what I’d expected. He was just so…jolly.