Page 42 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

He tilts his head, pretending to consider. “Different how? Because I didn’t bring a sign?”

Wow. He thinks he is so cute and clever.

I let out a frustrated sigh, trying to ignore the heat creeping up my neck. It would help if he wasn’t so damn adorable and clueless.

“Gio, I have ajob. A very serious, professional job. You can’t just waltz in here and act like…like?—”

“Like I want toseeyou?” he interjects, his tone soft enough to have me blinking at him.

I’m speechless.

He leans back in the chair, crossing his legs, grinning as he watches me struggle to form a response.

“You know, for someone who spends her days lecturing people about sociology, you’re not very good at reading between the lines.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, though my voice comes out quieter than I’d like.

His shoulders move up and down as he regards me. “It means I’m here because I wanted to see you. No ulteriormotives, no grand plan. It is what it is.”

The sincerity in his tone throws me.

My emotions are a tangled mess, and I can’t seem to settle on one long enough to form a coherent response.

I’m dismayed.

Pleased.

Confused.

Delighted.

He’s watching me, expression calm but curious, like he’s waiting for me to say something—anything.

I clear my throat, forcing myself to regain some semblance of composure. “You can’t just show up like this, Gio. It’s disruptive.”

“There’s that word again,” he teases. “What am I disruptive to? Your work?”

“Yes,” I say firmly, though the slight waver in my voice betrays me.

He untangles his legs and arms and leans forward, resting those beefy forearms on the desk, closing the distance between us.

“And here I thought professors were supposed to thrive under pressure.”

The way he says it causes me to tingle.

“Pressure is one thing,” I retort, trying to ignore the way his proximity is making my pulse race. “You’re something else entirely.”

“Good ‘something else’ or bad?” he asks, his grin widening.

I narrow my eyes at him, refusing to dignify the question with an answer.

I shiver again.

“If you’re going to stay, you need to behave.”

“Define ‘behave,’” he says, the teasing edge in his voice making it clear he has no intention of doing so.

His eyes say it all and eyes don’t lie.

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