Page 43 of The Love Operation

Benedict’s expression shifts, like he wasn’t expecting this, like something clicked between us at the same time. Then his voice lowers. “Biceps brachii,” he says, trailing his fingers lightly down the front of my upper arm.

I shiver. “Right.”

He smiles, then moves his finger slightly to the side. “Brachialis.”

My breath catches. We’re supposed to be labeling the muscles on our blank handout, not pointing them out on each other.

But his fingers move slower now, softer.

This isn’t just studying.

His touch slides across the soft skin inside my elbow. “Extensor carpi ulnaris, extensor digitorum . . .” His voice is silk smooth. He turns my arm slightly, guiding me through it, dragging his fingers over my skin, mapping every muscle.

My entire body is a live wire. I’m breathless.

Professor Choate stands back at the front of the classroom, ending the partnering session. Turns out we don’t have enough time for what he planned.

I pull my arm away gently. “Congratulations,” I say. “You got them all right.”

Seconds later, Benedict leans over to me. “You want to study again with me tonight?”

I don’t look at him. I can’t. But I do say “Yes.”

“Dr. Wren!” I stare down at the suds on my arms and then up at the circulating nurse who’s apparently calling my name and looking very concerned. “Are you okay? I called your name like five times.”

Her words send a chill down my body.

“Yes. Yes. I’ll be right there.”

I was too deep. I’m going to have to be more careful.

Just like I’m going to have to be careful tonight when Isaac comes to my house, with only Tad Cooper as chaperone.

While I’m not worried about anything happening between us, I am wondering why Delenn’s words won’t leave my head.

I’m surprised you haven’t figured out a way to date him anyway.

Chapter 10

The Wrath of Zeus

At 6 p.m. my doorbell rings, and nerves flutter through my stomach like a candy wrapper blowing down the street.

I had enough time to take a quick shower and re-dress in a smart but effortless ensemble: black tailored pants and a fitted midnight-blue top that plunges just low enough to show him that I’m a woman, but not low enough that he forgets who’s in charge here.

I exhale through pursed lips and regard Tad Cooper on my shoulder. “We can handle this,” I tell him. His large eye looks like an omniscient marble this close to mine, and I smile, which is good—it means I’m not actively scowling when I open the door.

Isaac looks incredible. He’s in black slacks from his suit, but no coat or tie, and his sleeves are rolled up, exposing those delicious forearms. His smile doesn’t need instructions to interpret. He’s happy to be here. Really happy.

That tapeworm swirls in my belly again, but it’s not entirely unwelcome because I realize that I’m happy to see him too.

And then, out of nowhere, Isaac hurls a huge bouquet of flowers at my face.

Pretty hard.

“Whaaaaaat is that?” he shrieks, backing up, hands in the air like I’ve just brandished a weapon.

I sputter, trying to recover from the layer of pollen now coating my skin. My fingers swipe my cheek and come away yellow.