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He sighs. "Yes, but I never had a lie-in on my days off. And I had enough of field work while working on my PhD. That's why I became a professor."
"You are an amazing teacher. It's what you were meant to do."
"What I'm meant to do right now is shag you."
I stifle my laugh so I won't wake my roommates. "Are you suggesting phone sex?"
"No. I'm suggesting you get your arse to the Presidential Suite so I can make love to you in person."
"Presidential Suite? Where are you, Alex? I'm at an old motel on the outskirts of nowhere."
"That's where I am too, but I found better accommodations. Give me your address, and I shall pick you up in my chariot forthwith."
"Chariot? Your bum's oot the windae."
I recite the motel's address to him, and we say goodbye. How long will it take him to get here? I have no idea where his "presidential suite" is. This wee town has no luxury accommodations, which means Alex must be exaggerating. He likes to do that.
Ten minutes after our call ended, someone knocks on the door to my room. The two lasses I've been rooming with finally woke up and got dressed a wee while ago, though they keep yawning. I feel wide awake, not only because I got up early, but because I knew I'd see Alex any minute.
I swing the door open and smile. "Alex."
"Were you expecting some other bloke? I wouldn't mind your roommates joining us, but I won't share you with any other man."
From behind me, one of those roommates shouts, "Ooh! I'm in for a threesome with your super-hot boyfriend, Cat."
I glance over my shoulder at her. "No one shares Alex. He's mine."
The Brit in question smirks. "Rather possessive of me, aren't you?"
"Aye." Grabbing my purse, I push Alex backward with my body and shut the door. "You're mine, Dr. Thorne."
He slings an arm around my waist. "And you are mine, Catriona. By the way, I love it when you call me Dr. Thorne. It makes me very randy."
"Better get me to your 'presidential suite' fast, then."
"Not sure I can stand to wait that long."
When we reach his car, the one he hired at the airport, I realize I cannae wait either. So aye, we have a quick poke in the car. I straddle his lap and unzip his trousers, suddenly glad that I decided to wear a skirt and no knickers. After our quickie, Alex drives out to his "palatial accommodations" on the opposite side of town. Aye, he actually called this place palatial. I suppose it qualifies, if a body likes a worn-out mobile home with a creaky twin bed.
"This is your 'presidential suite'?" I ask.
"Yes. Nothing is too good for my girl. Shall I ring for room service?"
I pat his cheek. "You are the most adorable liar I've ever met."
He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it. "I'm sorry I couldn't find better accommodations."
"Donnae worry,gràidh. I'm not a snob."
"You've called me that twice today. What does it mean?"
"Snob? It means—"
"The other word, love. The one that sounds like a different language."
"Oh, that." I lean in to whisper into his ear, "It means 'darling' in Gaelic. Does that fash you?"
"Well, I call you 'darling' in English, so I can't be annoyed because you say the same thing to me."
