Page 37 of And I Love Her

Chapter 8

Aknock on Callie’s open office door startled her out of her reverie. “Dr. Prescott?”

Dropping her salad fork, Callie swiveled around to find her student Rebecca standing beside her.

“I just wanted to drop my paper off.” Rebecca extended a red folder, glancing past Callie to her computer screen.

Callie fumbled to hit the sleep mode button, blacking out theFatal Glorymovie playing onscreen. Clearing her throat, she took the folder with a sharp nod.

“Thank you. Anything else?”

Rebecca shook her head.

“Have a good weekend.” Callie placed the folder on the stack of student papers.

“You too,” the girl said as she left.

Callie groaned aloud and pressed a hand to her forehead. All she needed was for her students to think she sat in her office gawking at Blaze Ripley movies. Even though that was what she’d been doing for the past hour. After a night of reliving her date…well, her “hang out” with Jake and the kiss that had fired her up so fast it was like he’d set a lit match to dry tinder, he was imprinted in her mind with indelible ink.

Thatkiss. Heat spread down her spine. She touched her lips, convinced they were still tingling from the pressure of his mouth. She’d last been kissed a few weeks…okay, a few months…well, maybe it was a fullyearago when she’d gone out with a Greco-Roman history professor from San Francisco State. They’d dated for all of three weeks before drifting apart out of sheer boredom.

Callie used to think it would be perfect to be with a man who had all the same interests that she did, which was part of the reason she’d stayed with Brian for three years in grad school.

Then one day they’d been sitting at the breakfast table, arguing over whether Caesar said the Latin phrase“Alea iacta est”or the Greek-derived“Alea jacta esto”after crossing the Rubicon, and Callie tried to imagine having similar debatesall the timefor the rest of her life instead of…well, kissing or touching or smiling at each other over their coffee cups.

Then she realized she and Brian hadn’t had sex in over two weeks, and the act didn’t exactly send her shooting into the stratosphere anyway…so was he really what she wanted in a partner?

A month later, she’d moved out of their apartment, and he’d written a well-received paper supporting the hypothesis that Caesar said “The die is cast” rather than “Let the die be cast,” and they both agreed they were better off as friends.

Nice and tidy. Exactly the way she preferred things.

Callie pressed the space bar on her keyboard, bringing up a paused image of Jake as Blaze Ripley. Halfway through the firstFatal Glorymovie, she still didn’t know what the story was actually about—except that Blaze was after some guys who’d done something bad—but she had to admit the special effects and all the high-speed chase scenes were well-done.

Jake stole the show, though. With his piercing blue eyes and chiseled male intensity, he barked orders, gritted his teeth, and made dryly humorous comments through a twist of his beautiful mouth. He was a sight to behold with his gorgeous, tousled dark hair and his body clad in worn, sweat-drenched T-shirts that showed off his bulging muscles.

But there was more to him than just masculine beauty. He was a captivating onscreen presence, able to articulate an emotion through subtle shifts in his expression and leaving no doubt as to the truth of his quest. He made everything, even the outlandish action scenes, grippingly believable. In addition to being hot, Jake Ryan was a damned good actor.

Callie closed the movie. She’d watch the rest of it at home tonight. She’d admired Jake from afar in high school, but she hadn’t known much about him. She certainly hadn’t known about his love for movies, and she’d been touched by the almost reverent way he’d spoken about films and the Vitaphone as if they’d been one of the best parts of his youth.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her thoughts. She couldn’t sit here mooning over studly Jake Ryan. She had work to do, and he was just in town for a few weeks before going back to his glamorous Hollywood life, which more than likely involved plenty of beautiful young women. She’d be an idiot to think their kiss would amount to anything more…and she’d never been idiotic in her life.

Well, except for the “button fly” remark. And Jake’s fly did have her curious about what was underneath those buttons. She grew hot just thinking about sliding her hand over the bulge she’d felt pressing against her last night.

Stop it.

Shaking her head to get him out of her thoughts, she opened the Word doc containing her book proposal and picked up the phone. “Calista Prescott.”

“Linda Weber, Cambridge Press, Dr. Prescott.” The caller’s tone was clipped. “Thank you for rescheduling our call so soon.”

“I apologize again for missing it yesterday.”

“I’ve read your revised proposal and have to tell you I don’t love it.”

Callie’s heart plummeted. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I appreciate your insights into the goddesses’ origin stories, but it’s all very dry and academic. We need something more contemporary and engaging to appeal to the buyers of the new imprint.”

“Like what?”

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