UNEXPECTED compile (10 page)

Whispers rippled through the auditorium. Accustomed to the hushed voices, blatant stares, and condescending comments of students, she lifted her chin a notch. By the expressions on the faces of her classmates, she might as well have a big scarlet
A
emblazoned on her breast.

"I'm in. Thank you for the invitation." She swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. With her brightest smile, she let the door swing shut behind her. Tuition cost big money, and it would be a cold day in hell before she let a bunch of judgmental hypocrites deprive her of an education.

"Then perhaps you'd like to take a seat?" The professor nodded to the empty seat in the front row. “I saved a place for you in case you decided to grace us with your presence today.” Marks’ attention snagged on a gum-chewing jock in the third row. “Mr. Morales? Please spit out your gum. And Mr. Conway, you will remove your hat.”

With an inward sigh and an outward smile, she hefted the backpack to her shoulder and trotted down the steps to the first row. One person sat between her and the proffered seat, his long muscular leg and heavy boot extended into the aisle. At her arrival, he raised to his feet, towering over her. Intent upon her destination, she kept her head down and squeezed past, her plentiful bottom brushing against his hips. The heavy backpack shifted on her shoulder and caught him squarely in the chest. He grunted and pushed it aside. She turned to apologize and found her nose level with an imposing set of pecs beneath a tight brown Henley shirt and the intoxicating scent of soap and fabric softener.

Oh my.
This was not your typical college boy. This was a full-grown man and then some.

With large, long-fingered hands, he pushed his shirtsleeves up sinewy forearms. Her eyes followed the lines of a tribal tattoo from his left wrist to where they disappeared beneath his sleeve. Bulging biceps stretched against the fabric of the Henley. The tattoo emerged on the north side of wide shoulders, escaping his shirt collar and curling around the back of his neck. She had seen the very same tattoo before – up close and personal.

Randy Mackenzie, bouncer at the notorious Felony Bar and all-around bad boy, blocked the aisle to the only free seat in the house. Unwilling to believe her bad luck, she bit her bottom lip and lifted her eyes to a stubborn jaw and lean cheeks covered with stubble. The sensitive mouth above his dimpled chin, a mouth capable of taking a girl to ecstasy with its talented lips and tongue, ghosted a smile.

Curiosity flickered in his eyes as their gazes connected. Flashes of their one night together blazed through her memory. Tangled legs…fingers clutched in bed sheets…the brush of male chest hair over her breasts
…
.calloused hands ripping off her panties…culminating in the empty mattress beside her the next morning.

Heat flooded her cheeks as she recalled the way he slipped out while she was asleep. How embarrassing. Maybe he didn’t remember her. It had been months ago and just the one night. A second more horrific thought rushed in. Oh, God, what if he really
didn’t
remember? Wouldn’t that be worse in a way? To be so unremarkable as to be forgotten?

The corners of Randy’s mouth curled into a knowing smirk.
I’ve seen you naked
, his smile said. Her belly dipped in reply.

Oh, yes. He definitely remembered. But what was he doing in her class?

Professor Marks’ annoyed throat clearing released her from paranoia and nostalgia and hurtled her into the present. How long had she been standing there gaping like an idiot? Seconds? Minutes? It felt like hours. The backpack turned into a two-ton weight. The strap bit into her shoulder.

Just sit down, you idiot
,
and act cool. It’s not that big of a deal.
She sank into the hard theater seat with a whoosh of exhaled breath and let her hair swing forward to shelter her expression from the world and the hunk of sin sitting next to her.

"Is it me or is this awkward?" Randy’s voice rasped into her ear as she struggled to remove her coat. The deep and throaty voice, rich with bass and roughened by life experience, reverberated in her ear as he tugged on the sleeve of her coat and slid it from her shoulders.

“Little bit,” she replied.

“Is that why you never called me?” The heat of his body warmed her shoulder as he leaned to speak in her ear again. “I waited by the phone for weeks.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Right. You practically left a vapor trail on your way out.”

“There were…extenuating circumstances,” he said. “I left a note on the coffee table. Didn’t you see it?”

“No.” Uncertain, she flicked her gaze to his, assessing his sincerity and trying to remember the events of the morning. A lot had happened in the last six months and most of the finer details of their night together had blurred or disappeared entirely, blocked by the humiliation of being fucked and forgotten and a few too many cocktails.

The chair creaked under his weight as he leaned into her ear again, his nose brushing her hair. “But you could have. Called me that is.”

“Phone works both ways,” she replied.

“You never gave me your number.”

“You see my best friend every day. All you had to do was ask her.”

“Maybe I did. Ever think of that?”

No, in fact, she had not. She made a mental note to corroborate his story with Ally. She bit her lower lip and studied his face, unsure exactly what to make of this guy. He returned the scrutiny with unusual gray eyes, dark and brimming with secrets. Engrossed by the gravity of his stare, she didn’t notice Professor Marks, who had been pacing the stage as he lectured on gothic horror in the Victorian era, stop in front of her, his lined face purple with indignation.

"Ms. Eriksson. Mr. Mackenzie. Is there something you would like to share with us?"

“Not really,” she replied. “But thank you for asking.” Snorts of amusement twittered through the room. The hard wooden back of the theater seat bit into her spine as she shifted to meet his stare.

"Please. I insist. Enlighten us with whatever is so very entertaining.” Karly shook her head. “No? And how about you, Mr. Mackenzie? Care to share?”

“We were discussing the underlying themes of homoeroticism found throughout Bram Stoker’s
Dracula
,” he said without missing a beat.

“Were you now?” Professor Marks lifted a wooly eyebrow in surprise. “I see you’ve done your homework, Mr. Mackenzie.” He shifted his gaze back to the students at large. “Would anyone else care to chime in on this topic?”

"Nice save,” Karly whispered. Randy shrugged his broad shoulders as one corner of his mouth quirked. "It's not funny," she chided and bit her lip to hold back her own smile. "He doesn’t like me. I don’t need to give him any more reason."

“Have you been a bad girl, Ms. Eriksson?” The dark eyes glittered with mischief.

“I have been a paragon of virtue, Mr. Mackenzie.” Their eyes met and they shared a smile. Despite the sour ending of their previous encounter, she felt the pull of attraction, an instant reminder of why they hooked up in the first place. The warm feeling turned ice cold when his gaze flicked down to her chest and his face flushed. He frowned and looked away before pointing a finger at his own massive chest.

"Umm...I think you’re having a wardrobe malfunction." He lowered his eyes to his desktop. She glanced down. The center of her blouse gaped open, the center button set free from its closure during the struggle with her coat, baring the exuberant swells of her breasts and the neon green bikini top serving double duty as a bra. With a groan, she buttoned up the blouse.

“Going swimming later?” Randy asked, eyes still averted. “It’s a little cold out, don’t you think?”

"Laundry day," she replied. They both chuckled.

Professor Marks scowled and slammed his hand on the podium. "Ms. Eriksson! Mr. Mackenzie. I will not ask you again. If you cannot be quiet, please leave my lecture."

“Sorry.” They both replied in unison and lowered their gazes to their desktops.

As Randy twisted in the seat, looking for a more comfortable position, the snug fabric of his brown shirt bunched and stretched over his chest and abs. The lazy tension in his movements, like a spring coiled for release, flustered her composure and ruined any chance of concentrating on the lecture. After his shoulder bumped hers a few times, he turned toward her and placed his arm over the back of her chair. The brush of his arm hair against the nape of her neck brought a flurry of butterflies to her stomach.

From beneath her lashes, she stole an admiring glance. Did memory fail her or was he better looking now? Dark auburn hair in need of a trim curled softly over the collar of his shirt. Her fingers twitched with the urge to touch the glossy locks. As if sensing her scrutiny, he cast a sideways glance in her direction. The corner of his mouth twitched as if amused.

Karly jerked as her cell phone dinged with an incoming text message. She fumbled in her backpack to silence the ringer and saw the text from her little sister Emma. With a flick of her thumb, she opened the message to find a picture of an adorable little girl with round blue eyes and reddish pigtails holding a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

*It’s peanut butter jelly time. Smooches, Em*

A huge grin spread over Karly’s face with an incredible feeling of warmth. Eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches had been Emma’s favorite meal as a toddler. Karly’s smile saddened. She missed her. With a sigh, she shoved her phone into the backpack before Professor Marks caught her and focused her attention on the lecture.