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This time, both of her trim, dark eyebrows lifted. She pressed a hand against the center of her chest. “What? You’re rescinding what might possibly be th
e nicest compliment I’ve received from a student all semester?”
I snorted out a laugh but nodded. “Yeah, I am. It was rude and undeserving. And I apologize.”
Her lashes responded by beating in overtime against the tops of her cheeks. When moisture glistened like a fine sheen over her green eyes, I panicked. Shit, I didn’t want to make her cry.
But wow. Who knew I could actually make the hard-ass, expressionless Dr. Kavanagh cry? She must not be nearly as tough as she put herself out there to be. It made me wonder just how soft she could get.
Which was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
She held it together, thank God, and nodded. “Apology accepted,” she murmured as she motioned toward the door to let me know I was excused.
Wavering another second, I studied her delicate features, still amazed she was old enough to be a college professor. If she didn’t act so hoity-toity and wore such frumpy clothes, I probably would’ve mistaken her for an underclassman and hit on her by now. I wouldn’t have stopped my pursuit either, not until she gave in and let me have a piece of her, because my type or not, there was something about her that drew me in.
“How old are you?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
Shit. Why had I just asked that? It made no difference what age my teacher was.
Lifting her eyebrows with what was either irritation or amusement—I couldn’t quite tell—she murmured, “None of your business,” in a low voice packed with heated sensuality.
It stirred every hormone inside me, even though I knew she hadn’t meant it to.
I shook myself free of the generating lust and muttered, “Right.” It was time to get out of here. Now.
***
“Quotable quotes are coins rubbed smooth by circulation.” - Louis Menand
***
~ASPEN~
Noel Gamble turned away and was about out of the door of my office when he paused and glanced at my quote board. A pincushion of cork for all my thumbtacks to hold up Post-it notes and scraps of paper, my quote board was full of sayings from books I had collected over the years.
Slowing to a stop, he studied some of the quotes I had accumulated. “What’s this?”
No one had ever asked me that before.
I ducked my hot face, feeling suddenly shy. But it felt like he was scanning a piece of my soul. Still unsettled by how he’d asked how old I was, I mumbled, “It’s nothing. Just my quote board.”
He glanced back, and the curiosity in his blue eyes sizzled my insides.
I cleared my throat. “When I read a line from a story I like, I tack it up there.” It was kind of my thing.
“Hmm.” He lifted his hand to slip aside one of the newer quotes to read one of the older ones hidden behind it. When he gave a low chuckle, my hormones jackknifed into immediate awareness. God, his laugh was stirring. “That’s a good one.”
Since I had no idea which one he was referring to, I didn’t respond. Then again, I considered all of them good since I’d taken the time to put them there, so I probably couldn’t help but agree.
He glanced back. “‘Sometimes the questions are complicated but the answers are simple.’”
That had to be the deepest thing anyone had ever said to me. But what did he mean? Was he referring to my assignment? Did he think I’d made it too convoluted? Should I work on my teaching approach?
I cleared my throat. “Excuse me?”
He flushed slightly and turned back to the quote board to tap the Post-its. “It’s Dr. Seuss. Another quote you could add.”
“O-oh. Thanks. That...that’s actually an excellent one.” And it was. It really was. Strange.
