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“Most people think my brother doesn’t have a temper.” He was too cold to be considered temperamental.
“I’ve known him a long time.”
“You haven’t known me very long, but you’ve already sussed out one of my secrets.”
He shrugged, those big, muscled shoulders rolling and pulling his dark T-shirt taut across his perfectly defined pecs. “What can I say? I’m good.”
“No arguments here.” She gave him a look, doing her best to let him know she didn’t just mean his interrogation techniques.
His eyes widened and then narrowed. “Save that for your college boyfriends.”
“I don’t have any.”
“You don’t have any male friends?”
She didn’t have very many friends at all, but that wasn’t what she meant. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“So, get one.”
That had her laughing out loud. “Right, like that’s going to happen.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard. You’re wicked smart. You’re sexy.” He did that shrug thing again.
She wasn’t sure if it was the shrug, or his words, but her heart felt like it had started practicing for the Grand Prix. “You think I’m sexy?”
“Don’t let it go to your head. I’m sure a lot of guys do.”
“Now I know you’re just being nice. Guys do not think geeky Ph.D. students are sexy.”
He reached for the handle on her rolling case. “If you say so. You’ll have to sleep in Roman’s room. I’m in the guest room.”
He started walking down the hall toward the bedrooms, tugging the overloaded case like it was filled with nothing more than air.
“Why are you staying here?”
“I gave up the lease on my apartment, but the condo I bought and was supposed to move into won’t be ready for another two weeks.”
“The builder is running behind?” she asked, wondering who in their right mind didn’t keep their commitments to a man like Maxwell Baker.
“Yeah, but we negotiated a twenty-thousand-dollar drop in my condo price because of it. It’s all good.”
She’d just bet they’d negotiated.
He deposited her suitcase at the end of Roman’s king-size bed. She dropped her backpack with her clothes in it on the corner of the mattress closest to her.
He looked at the backpack and then at her suitcase. “Let me guess, clothes in the pack and books in the heavy-as-hell case.”
“I told you. Geek.”
“Serious student, anyway. How close are you on your thesis?”
“I’ve still got some research to go through, but I should be ready to present and defend by the end of October.”
“That’s still a few months out.”
“It’s a doctoral thesis, not a term paper, or so my adviser keeps saying.”
“Sounds like a hardass.”
