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“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and I scoffed.
“I’m not a matron.”
“No.” That tone was in his voice again as he pulled a book from the shelf, waved it at me to indicate he’d finally found what we’d been after, and brought it to the desk, laying it down.
I stared at it, only because I didn’t want to see his expression.
“You gave up too easily, Miss Foxboro,” he chastised gently.
My cheeks warmed, and I began to smooth out the paper I’d wrinkled into a ball.
“Well,” I managed, “at least I didn’t eat it.”
A beat of silence, followed by a rumble of laughter, encouraging my own smile, partially glad the tension was broken.
He shook his head. “I doubt it would have deprived the world of any genius if you had.”
“Certainly not any decipherable by the human eye.”
“Such cheek,” he replied with theatrical offense.
“They call it honesty,” I corrected, shaking the paper in front of him for him to take.
We smiled some more, both of us like fools.
“This”—he gently took the paper from my hand—“is the most civil conversation we’ve had to date.”
The moment began to burn, his comment unfair, making me feel unruly and unpleasant.
“Maybe if you weren’t so tyrannical…” I began to turn away, hoping to hide my self-conscious discomfort.
“Me?!” Now his laugh was one of disbelief, and before I could shun him entirely, he slipped an arm around my waist. “I rather think it’s you.”
As he pulled me to him, I caught myself, hands on his chest to prevent our bodies from meeting and catapulting me toward another state of recklessness, though I wanted badly to give in.
“Professor…”
“Millie,” he said tenderly, “it’s Callum.”
He kissed me with such soft affection I nearly began to cry, and my inhibitions melted, forming me to his body. The ache opening in me was more than my body wanting him, it was the dangerous longing of my heart.
“Do you still think I’m a beast?” he asked against my lips.
“You are,” I responded playfully. “But I don’t mind anymore.”
“Good, because it was very hard pretending not to be.”
He grinned with plenty of devilry and took my mouth again more fiercely this time. The slow molten heat of desire filled me until I was on my tiptoes again, pressing close. My eagerness dissolved his caution, and he cupped my backside with both hands, crushing me to him. All at once we began stumbling together, searching for somewhere, anywhere, to stabilize ourselves. He turned us toward the desk, and I threw out a hand to help as he lifted me onto it, only to knock the book we’d just finished searching for onto the floor. It hit spine first and opened to a center page where a folded sheet of paper had been tucked like a bookmark.
I don’t know what terrible urge made us both look down, but there, staring up at us in his wife’s nervous handwriting, was a single word bolded, underlined.
CALLUM
I couldn’t fathom what I was seeing. Callum cleared his throat and broke away from me, leaned to scoop up the text, closed it with a snap, and took it back to the shelf where he shoved it into the spot it hadn’t been absent from for more than a few moments.
The break in the spell was torture, and I was riled by the odd premonitions worming their way through me.
“Are you toying with me?” I demanded, unable to believe the horrible coincidence.
