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“You’re familiar?” he asked with a raised brow.
“Yes, with these three,” I replied while pointing to the list. “This fourth one is new to me, but I’ll take a look and get familiar with it,” I said while angling back toward my computer.
When he didn’t go back to his side of the desk, I looked up at him. Instantly that damn dream I had flooded my mind with naughty images, and I felt my face flush. I knew from living my whole life with the terrible problem, my complexion was beet red. Additionally, the embarrassment of knowing it was happening made the blushing exponentially worse. Nervously, I looked up again to find him studying my every move.
“Are you unwell? Your face is suddenly very flushed. Is it too hot in here for you?” He asked all three questions in a flurry and rushed to the window to let in some cool morning air. Even if I weren’t overheating because of anxiety and embarrassment, I wouldn’t stop him from his task. If I spent another day breathing the bleachy fumes that still lingered in the room, I’d have a migraine for sure.
“Yes, please. If you don’t mind. I think some fresh air in here would be lovely. Can I help?” I asked out of habit while standing. My parents raised us with very good manners. Also, it was my natural inclination to offer help to anyone who was doing something while I was not.
“I’ll do it. These old things are stiff. Some of them haven’t been opened in decades, I’d venture to say,” he explained, and I was speechless. Even though the subject matter was ridiculous, it was the most personable Dr. Chaplin had been since the day I met him in class. The muscles in his back strained against his tailored button-down while he really leaned into prying open the sash. I was transfixed by the site.
After successfully opening two of the four windows, he returned to his seat across from me. “Better?” he asked. “Your color has returned to normal,” he observed quietly but immediately looked down and busied himself with something in his desk drawer.
Interesting. Maybe he was regretting letting his guard down just then. If I was reading his body language correctly, he was unsure of himself and not happy in that space.
I didn’t want to antagonize the guy, so I set about my task. But then realized he still hadn’t told me exactly what he wanted me to do on each web page. I didn’t need to familiarize myself with them on his time. I already knew my way around all but one. That’s where I started and figured I’d wait for him to further instruct me. After about twenty minutes of surfing around the page, I explored all I could without a purpose.
“Dr. Chaplin?” I said before looking up. Once again, his dark-brown eyes were already assessing me when I did.
“Yes, Ms. Farsey?” he said with no inflection in his tone. Was all of this boring to him and he was just going along with the program to make some summer cash? I knew a lot of professors took on interns as a way to supplement their incomes between semesters. Maybe that’s what was going on here? He didn’t want to be here any more than I did. It was just what we had to do to get what we wanted. Lucky me would be the target of his resentment for the next three months.
“Please call me Maye. It feels like we’re still in class when you’re so formal,” I suggested again with a kind, genuine smile. His blank stare made me regret the suggestion immediately. Instead of continuing down that uncomfortable path, I asked, “What do you want me to look for?” I sputtered. “On these websites?”
“You said you were familiar with them,” he began, and I cut him off.
“I am, but there are many things I could be doing instead of just surfing. Are you looking for specific grants for research projects done by a university, for example? Or were you wanting to look at a narrowed-down field, like psychology in this case?”
I waited for him to answer, but he just looked annoyed.
I don’t know if it was the way my morning started, my frustration with my sister, my annoyance with Toby, or what possessed me in the next moment, but I threw my hands up and stood abruptly.
Not taking his attention off me for a second, he saw my little tantrum and shifted in his chair.
“Sit down,” he said firmly, and his dark, commanding voice stole my free will. I plopped angrily back into the chair, and the force of my weight hitting the seat made it roll back about two feet from the desk. In that brief moment, he was on his feet and occupied the space between me and the desk.
My eyes were just about crotch level as he crowded into my personal space, and my heart beat a crazy staccato.
He perched on the edge of the desk and leaned back with his arms behind him. “Do we have a problem this morning, Ms. Farsey?”
“Maye,” I muttered under my breath. He was looming so close there was no way he didn’t hear me.
I couldn’t make eye contact with him, though. If he hadn’t caged me in, I would’ve made some sort of excuse and hurried out of the room. And my God, how had I not noticed how intoxicating he smelled before that moment? The fresh breeze made the scents I gravitated toward in a men’s cologne swirl between us in the crowded room. It was as though he knew my preferences and made a one-of-a-kind cocktail to drive me insane.
Bravely I let my eyes crawl up his abdomen to his firm chest. Praise to the man’s tailor, because his white dress shirt showed every hill and valley of his physique on that side too. I continued my visual trip to his taut neck and angular jaw. His dark eyes reeled me in like helpless prey.
He studied me wordlessly, and I grew bolder and held his gaze for a long moment. Until his lips parted ever so slightly, and he sneaked his tongue out to wet the inviting pair. The sight made me audibly gasp, and I froze with a heady combination of arousal and fear. Thankfully the groan that was trying desperately to claw its way out got caught in my throat or I would’ve died of embarrassment right where I sat.
“Maye,” he finally repeated. He said my name with careful enunciation like he was caressing me intimately with the sound. My heart rate picked up a little more from just hearing him say my name. While I continued the staring contest with him, I imagined him saying my name while he worshiped my body between pronouncing it in different ways. He made the simple name sound sexy and sinful, and I had to shift in my seat.
This couldn’t be good. There was no way in hell I should be getting aroused by my professor. A man who had to be twenty years older than I was. We had nearly three months ahead of us in this tiny space. Alone. But there was an electricity flowing between us today that was undeniable. I wouldn’t dare mention the sensation I was feeling in case it was my lonely libido crying for stimulation.
Yes, that had to be it. It was the only reasonable explanation. I gave my head an abrupt shake and cleared my throat. The combination of gestures snapped him out of the same spell I had been under, and he stood to his full height. Finally, he moved to his side of the desk.
I focused on my computer monitor, though I couldn’t see a single letter or image on the display. My attention was on him shifting around in his chair until he finally sat comfortably.
I wouldn’t even let my mind wander to the reasons why sitting was suddenly uncomfortable for the guy. Definitely not going there.
CHAPTER FIVE
