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“Tell me.” Ian rose once Hazel had eaten most of her food and returned with the wine and takeout cartons so he could put more food on her plate. “Have you thought any more about Meryl’s plans? I haven’t decided yet how deeply I want us to be involved with her.”
“Well…” Hazel held up a hand to halt the shower of pomme frites on her plate. “I mean… How deeply do you want to be involved with her?”
“I’m not sure what you mean. We can work together professionally. We have before and after our marriage.”
“Not professionally. Personally.”
“She’s married to Lester. The man’s a friend.”
“Okay. And that’s weird. But…” Hazel’s eyes were wide as she watched him. “Do you want to get back together with her? Is that what this whole philanthropy gig is all about?”
“What? Of course I don’t want to get back together with her.“ Ian grimaced. “We were a terrible couple. That isn’t what I want at all.”
Hazel set her plate down and folded her hands in her lap.
“Why would you think that?” Ian asked.
Hazel shrugged. “I haven’t known you that long, but whenever I talk about philanthropy and giving back and community service, you fight me tooth and nail about whether it’s even important. You act like it’s a total waste of time! But she comes one morning, and you want to create a whole new arm of your business.”
Ian tented his brows. To be fair, he had given her an awfully hard time about this. “It isn’t a waste that you have values, Hazel. I simply see a tremendous amount of potential in you. That’s all. And I’m considering Meryl’s offer so strongly because I thought that, perhaps, if Cartwright & Benton had something to offer you… you would stay with us.”
He paused, looking into the deep blue-gray of her eyes. “I wouldn’t have to let you go.”
“You…”
Hazel stared at him in confusion. Was she still buzzed? He couldn’t tell. She seemed frozen, and she was squeezing her hands so tightly. Ian reached for his wine and took a drink before putting his hand on her knee.
“You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, and you’re just starting out. I think the world will be shaken to its core when you show us what you’re truly capable of.” Slowly, he moved his hand towards hers and pried one trembling hand into his own.
She squeezed his hand and sucked on her lower lip as she stared back at him. “I don’t think… anyone has ever believed in me as much as you do.”
As weary as Hazel looked, Ian was still entranced by her. Here in his home, such a hard worker, with such big dreams. Even so, she was his student. She was his employee…
She was taking the wine out of his hand and downing it in one motion. She was cupping his face in her hands. Ian couldn’t help himself—with her hands on him, openly inviting his advances? He cupped the back of her head and leaned in to kiss her. Firmly possessing her lips with his own, his other hand moved over her thigh. He squeezed, so eager to have her touch. He couldn’t be near enough to her.
Their lips met over and over. Ian’s world narrowed to the gentle scent of lavender mingled with the aroma of wine and pomme frites. Her skin was so smooth, her thighs surprisingly strong. He felt the press of her soft breasts against his pecs, and his hand moved down the small of her back and caressed her plump backside. She let out a soft moan and arched her back sharply.
Hazel was on his lap before Ian could gather his wits. Her fingers twined through his hair, and his sweet, complex, kind Hazel rolled her hips toward him, making the kind of mewling noise he might have invented in one of his fantasies.
But this was no fantasy. She was here, clinging to him, rubbing against him. Her corporeality flew in the face of his rapidly deteriorating principles.
“Wait…” Ian squeezed her hips firmly and looked at Hazel. “I’m your teacher.”
“So? It isn’t like you’re the kind of professor who gives grades. There’s no quid pro quo, here.” Hazel carded her fingers back through his hair and looked at him adoringly. “If there were something unethical, don’t you think I’d have something to say?”
Ian laughed and kissed her again, hungrily. Part of him wanted to believe this, but there was no mistaking the way she looked at him sometimes, her eager-to-please attitude, the way she lapped up praise. It mattered, at least in some facet, that he was her professor.
The moment she dismissed the thought, however, Ian became unable to hold onto it. Instead, he hoisted Hazel up in his arms and carried her up the stairs to his bedroom. Hazel was occupied with nibbling his neck when they reached the top, and he strolled over to his bed where he dropped her back on his sprawling king-size bed.
