Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Hold up.
Earth to Win! There would be no perving on the sexy professor. Alistair was off bounds. And let’s remember, I’d been worried sick about him for days. If I found any gray hair on my head, it was his fault and I was going to be pissed.
“Nothing’s wrong, but—”
“Good. Enjoy your day.” His lips curled into a weak approximation of a smile as he closed the door.
I raised my hand like a shield and stepped around him to avoid having my fingers smashed, and accidentally—I swear I have no idea how it happened—dislodged his towel.
Imagine my surprise when I whirled to face him with my best “don’t mess with me” expression locked and loaded only to find myself ogling a naked man.
Excuse me, a naked professor.
Personally, I had no words. I gaped for far longer than was polite as Alistair bent to pick up the towel, and somehow managed not to fan myself, which was a damn miracle ’cause the view was…wow.
His ass was thick and yummy, and his cock was absolute perfection, hanging between a neatly-trimmed thatch of hair. The towel was back in a flash. He refastened it, muttering something about changing into clothes before disappearing into the bedroom.
Gulp.
I set my hands on my hips, then crossed them over my chest, licking my lips nervously. I wasn’t sure what the proper etiquette was, but my guess was that it would be best to pretend it never happened. Good plan.
I paced to the window and opened the drapes, blinking against the flood of sunlight as I surveyed the room. Geez, it looked like a war zone.
No kidding. Books, scattered papers, and three laptops shared space on the dining table with a medley of used mugs, a teapot, and an assortment of cookie wrappers, while the floor was covered with towels and empty water bottles.
First of all, I was impressed that he’d managed to fit this much shit into the one suitcase he’d brought. And second, I had a feeling he hadn’t eaten anything other than cookies for few days. This was bad.
I was raised in a loving Mexican American home where food was life. You’re sad, eat. You’re mad, eat. You broke up with your bum boyfriend who ghosted you for a month and wants to see you now…don’t do that, and eat. All serious conversations happened over a meal. So did joyful ones. If you asked my abuela, food cured everything but stupid, and I believed her.
Alistair Creighton was a brilliant man who did some deep thinking about shit I couldn’t begin to comprehend, but no one’s brain was at its best if all you ate was—
“What the hell is a Jammie Dodger?” I mumbled, fingering the empty red package on the table.
“It’s a delicious biscuit,” the professor replied, tugging at the sleeves of a beige sweater that did nothing to complement his baggy khakis.
Clothes certainly didn’t make a man, but now that I’d seen what was underneath all that cotton and polyester-wool blended nonsense, I was a little confused. Did he not understand how much sexiness he was hiding?
Whatever. The man needed a real breakfast. And to vacate the room so housekeeping could do their thing.
I dropped the empty packet into the trash and pasted a smile on my face. “I’m sure they’re fabulous, but one can’t live on jelly-filled cookies alone. C’mon, I’m taking you to breakfast, Professor, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to. I’m in the middle of an important project, but thank you for the invitation.” Alistair moved to the door and opened it to give me the old heave-ho.
“Nope. I’m not going anywhere without you,” I insisted. “I know you’re very important and that you do very important work, but I can’t stand by while you eat processed crap while I’m feasting on the best bread and cheese and wine I’ve ever had in my life. It’s not right.”
“I appreciate your concern, but—” He furrowed his brow as I flattened my back to the doorjamb and slid down the wall. “What are you doing?”
“Protesting. You come with me, or I stay here with you…just like this.”
“Winnie…”
“Alistair…”
The professor scrubbed his hand over his stubbled jaw and sighed. “All right. One meal.”
I jumped to my feet and clapped. “Excellent. I’ll grab my chapeau, and off we’ll go!”
I led Alistair downstairs to the dining room, monologuing about everything from the hotel’s plethora of crystal chandeliers to the glorious September weather outside. He didn’t say a word until a waiter informed us that the restaurant was closed but would reopen at lunchtime. An hour and a half from now. Shit.
“Oh, that’s dreadful,” Alistair said. “Thank you for inviting me. We’ll try again another time.”
“No, no. I have a better idea. Let’s walk through the park and get a little something at a café.”