Page 11 of Irresistible Professor

“Think about it, okay?” Greer urged, her eyes boring into mine with an intensity that was hard to resist. “I still love him, and I know he still loves me. Don’t you want to see him happy? All I’m asking for is your support.”

“Of course,” I murmured. “Um, I need to get back to studying now.”

“I knew I could count on you,” she purred, swirling her spoon in her coffee while I hurried into my coat.

I stepped onto the sidewalk, walking straight into a gust of wind. The sudden blast of cold air made my eyes water and I blinked furiously to clear my vision. I didn’t want to be caught in the middle of whatever drama Greer was stirring up, but I couldn’t ignore the part of me that wondered why I cared so much. Was it just loyalty to Ford, a desire to protect him?

I didn’t have answers, only questions that seemed to multiply with each passing moment.

In the distance, the university bells chimed, and I looked up at the clock tower, feeling more unsure of myself than ever.

Chapter Six

Ford

I shifted in my seat at La Trattoria, the cozy Italian restaurant that had once been my go-to spot for date nights. The flickering candlelight and the faint strains of romantic music playing in the background seemed to mock me. I adjusted my tie, a sense of unease settling over me as I waited for Greer to arrive. I’d let my guard down before, and it had cost me. I shouldn't have agreed to meet her here, not where every corner was haunted by memories. Yet, curiosity is a potent lure, and mine was thoroughly piqued. What could she possibly want after all this time? A part of me wanted closure, but another part knew better than to expect it.

The restaurant was the same as I remembered. Warm brick walls adorned with Italian art and shelves lined with wine bottles created an inviting charm. Couples occupied most of the tables, engaged in hushed conversations and laughter. The delicious aroma of garlic and tomato sauce wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of fresh basil.

I told myself tonight was about moving forward, yet I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the past bearing down on me as the seconds ticked by.

Just then, the door opened, and Greer stepped inside. She was as stunning as ever, dressed in a figure-hugging black dress that accentuated her curves. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders in perfect waves, and her eyes were lined with dark kohl, making them appear even more striking. A delicate gold necklace glinted at her throat, drawing the eye to her décolletage. There was a time when that sight would have sent my heart racing, when her beauty would have been irresistible. She was still beautiful, undeniably so, but the allure had tarnished, corroded by betrayal and lost trust.

As she approached, a different image flickered across my mind: Bonnie's smile—sincere and unguarded. Bonnie, with her big brown eyes filled with ambition and kindness, was like a burst of sunlight piercing through relentless clouds. I found myself craving that warmth, that earnestness, instead of the cool, calculated demeanor of the woman now standing before me.

"Ford," Greer greeted, “darling.”

"Greer." My response came out more curt than I intended, and I braced myself for the charade I suspected was about to unfold. Rising from my seat, I extended the ritual of politeness ingrained in me, pulling out her chair while wrestling with the urge to maintain distance. Greer's presence was a taut string pulling at the edges of my composure.

"Thank you," she purred as I leaned in to offer a perfunctory kiss on her cheek. She fluttered her eyelashes in that familiar way and reached out, her fingers grazing my forearm with an intimacy that seemed both foreign and familiar at the same time. Leaning forward, she offered a view designed to entrap, but I flicked my eyes to the couple seated at the next table.

Greer settled into her chair with the grace of a cat claiming its territory, and I resumed my own seat. A waiter appeared with menus, offering them to us with a polite nod.

"Could we have a bottle of the Montepulciano? Our usual," Greer requested, as though suggesting that this was merely another shared evening together, not the fractured echo of what used to be.

"Of course, Ms. Tolliver," the server acknowledged with a professional smile. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

Left alone, I pretended to study my menu as I waited for our drinks to arrive. The waiter returned after a few minutes and poured the deep red liquid from the opened bottle into our glasses with practiced ease. Greer and I placed our orders and the man retreated to the kitchen.

The stem of the wine glass felt cool beneath my fingers as I lifted it and took a sip, hoping it would wash down the lump in my throat. Across from me, Greer's eyes met mine over the rim of her glass as she drank the heady substance.

"So, Ford," her voice finally breaking the lull, "how have you been? I heard the conference was a success."

Her words tugged at the corner of my lips, coaxing out a smile, but not for the reasons she might have hoped. My mind couldn't help but drift to Bonnie—her laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses at the party, her intelligent eyes sparkling with pride, the way she fit so perfectly in my arms as we danced. "Yes," I found myself saying, the memory still vivid, "it went well."

"That's good," Greer replied, swirling the wine in her glass. The action seemed almost meditative. "I've been doing well too."

"Have you?" The question fell flat, more courtesy than curiosity.

"Since getting back from Europe." Her gaze flicked up to meet mine. "After everything that happened last year, I needed some space...to clear my head. I spent some time in London as well as Paris."

"Space can be good," I said. "I'm glad to hear you've moved on."

A frown creased Greer's otherwise immaculate forehead, and her lips pursed as if tasting something sour. "Moved on? Have either of us really done that, though? You know my intentions were only good. I just wanted the best for you. I don’t know how many times I have to apologize before you forgive me.”

"Greer," I began, unsure why I felt the need to reassure her. "Your intentions...I never doubted they were good. But..."

She leaned forward, her gaze intense. "But what, Ford? How many times must I apologize before you actually forgive me?"

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