by Anthology
Until he broke my heart and became a charm on my necklace instead — the very first one, and the inspiration for my jewelry — a cold, metal reminder that mistakes can make us better.
But I was safely on the other side now. I was over Bryan, over the anger, over the whole thing. I was totally fine, thank you very much. Except, as he neared the whiteboard with the name of the class, Experiential Learning, scrawled in blue marker on it, I was being educated on a new definition of the word unfair. Because I so wanted to be the girl who didn’t even notice he was here, but instead I catalogued every detail, from the slightest trace of stubble on his jawline, to the way his brown hair still invited fingers to be run through it, to how the checked navy blue shirt he wore had probably never looked quite so good as when it hugged his arms and stretched across his chest.
Bryan froze when he saw me. His green eyes hooked into mine for the briefest of moments, and maybe for real, or maybe just in my imagination, I saw a tinge of regret in them. But then he recovered a second later, and flashed a quick, closed-mouth smile to the class. Of course it wouldn’t bother him to see me here. He didn’t care about me then. He wouldn’t care about me now.
But I could pull off indifference too, so I looked away first. There. Two could play at this game.
Bryan stood next to the professor at the head of the classroom, along with the other business school alum who would be matched with my fellow graduate students for this mentorship program. In his trademark three-piece suit, spectacles and a silk handkerchief, Professor Oliver was his usual peppy self as he introduced the mentors. One of the gals ran a venture fund she’d started herself, another had been a superstar skateboarder then launched a line of skatewear that was now hugely popular with teens, one of the guys oversaw a firm that had designed some of the most successful iPhone apps, and another founded a health video service.
Then there was Bryan Leighton, five years older than me, and I already knew what he did for a living. I knew other things about him too. I knew what his lips tasted like. How his arms felt under my hands. How his kisses went on and on and I’d never wanted them to end. And like a snap of the fingers, I was back in time, no longer a graduate student, no longer in the first row of the classroom. I was just a girl fresh off high school graduation, wrapped around her brother’s best friend. Bryan was running his hands through my hair, and kissing my neck, and I shuddered. Everyone else, everything else faded away. He was the only one there.
I could have stayed trapped like that, beholden to the memory of the way he felt, the things we said. The words only I said.
I gripped the charm to break away from the past. I let a tiny kernel of latent anger in me start to come out of hiding. I needed that anger, because I needed to focus on the present, and there was no room for him, or those kind of memories, in it. I was a different person now. I was a savvy twenty-three. I’d already earned my bachelor’s degree from NYU, and now I was finishing my master’s degree from the same school and growing a business, all while paying the rent in a Chelsea apartment. I wasn’t that lovestruck teenager anymore. Besides, there was just a one-in-five chance I’d be paired with him. Wouldn’t it make the most sense for my professor to match me with the skatewear gal since we were both in the fashion business? I was a jewelry designer after all, with a line of necklaces already selling well online and in several boutiques around the city.
Professor Oliver rocked back and forth on his wingtips, full of energy, while he rattled off names of my classmates, then the mentor they’d work with. The first student was paired with iPhone guy. Okay, there was a one-out-of-four chance now. I crossed my fingers. Venture Girl was partnered off next with a different student. One in three. I made a quick wish on an unseen star. Professor Oliver read off the names of another student and the health video service guy. I took a deep calming breath. Clearly, the professor was saving me for the skateboard gal. She looked so cool too, so hip with pink streaks in her black hair and cat’s eye glasses. Yes, she’d be a perfect mentor and I’d learn so much about a business that wasn’t that different from mine.
I held my breath and hoped. But Professor Oliver called out someone else’s name for skateboard gal. My heart dropped, and I felt my insides tighten.
“And that means, Ms. Harper, that your business mentor for this semester will be Bryan Leighton. Allow me to officially introduce you two.”
Bryan held out his hand, as if it were the first time he was touching me.
“It’s a pleasure.”
“All mine,” I said, wishing there weren’t some truth to my words.
I love hearing from readers! You can find me on Twitter at LaurenBlakely3, or Facebook at LaurenBlakelyBooks, or online at LaurenBlakely.com. You can also email me at [email protected].
Check out my contemporary romance novels!
The New York Times and USA Today
Bestselling Seductive Nights series including
Night After Night, After This Night,
and One More Night
And the newest installment, the standalone
romance Nights With Him, also a New York Times and
USA Today Bestseller! (Michelle and Jack’s romance)
Caught Up In Us, a New York Times and
USA Today Bestseller! (Kat and Bryan’s romance!)
Pretending He’s Mine, a Barnes & Noble and
iBooks Bestseller! (Reeve & Sutton’s romance)
Trophy Husband, a New York Times and
USA Today Bestseller! (Chris & McKenna’s romance)
Playing With Her Heart, a
USA Today bestseller! (Davis and Jill’s romance)
Far Too Tempting, an Amazon
romance bestseller! (Matthew and Jane’s romance)
Stars in Their Eyes, an iBooks bestseller!
(William and Jess’ romance)
My USA Today bestselling
No Regrets series that includes
The Thrill of It
(Meet Harley and Trey)
and its sequel
Every Second With You
My New York Times and USA Today
Bestselling Fighting Fire series that includes
Burn For Me,
(Smith and Jamie’s romance!)
and Melt for Him
(Megan and Becker’s romance!)
Lauren Blakely writes sexy contemporary romance novels with heat, heart, and humor, and her books have appeared multiple times on the New York Times, USA Today, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and iBooks bestseller lists. Like the heroine in her novel, FAR TOO TEMPTING, she thinks life should be filled with family, laughter, and the kind of love that love songs promise. Lauren lives in California with her husband, children, and dogs. She loves hearing from readers! Her bestselling series include Caught Up in Love, Seductive Nights, and Fighting Fire. She recently released Nights With Him, a standalone novel in her New York Times Bestselling Seductive Nights series that became an instant New York Times Bestseller. Her latest book in that series is Forbidden Nights.
Come Monday
Wild Irish, Book 1
by
Mari Carr
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Dedication
This story is dedicated to my husband, Andrew. His amazing support of my “hobby” that sort of turned into a second career has been more deeply appreciated than he can possibly know.
Monday’s Child
Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
Thursday’s child has far to go,
Friday’s child is loving and giving,
Saturday’s child works hard for a living,
But the child who is born on the Sabbath day,
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.
~Traditional nursery rhyme
Chapter One
Keira Collins stared at the paper in her hands and bit back the growl of frustration that bubbled beneath th
e surface. She’d received another C-plus. Professor Wallace had finished handing out the graded work and was beginning his lesson on the importance of dialogue in fictional writing.
Screw him and his damn quotation marks.
She’d only taken this creative writing class on the advice of her advisor, who claimed she needed another English credit to fulfill the college’s stupid general education requirements. So far she’d taken two years’ worth of what she called “High School, the Sequel”, all without setting foot in a single class in her major program. She wanted a degree in business technology, not to be the next freaking Nora Roberts.
The worst part of this class was, she knew her papers were perfect. English had always been one of her best classes in high school. She knew how to write a complete sentence—unlike Roy Decker. She glanced at the nineteen-year-old frat boy next to her to try to see what grade he’d gotten. She’d been paired up with Roy as critique partners the first week of class back in January. All that basically meant was she practically rewrote every word of his papers while he stared at hers and said, “This is real good.”
Roy caught her gaze and flashed his paper toward her with an enormous grin, another C-minus, which apparently delighted the slack-ass boy to no end.
Great. They’d both gotten C’s…again.
Her temper rose and she shot daggers at the back of her professor’s head as he wrote the proper way to punctuate dialogue within a sentence on the white board. She’d tried—really tried—to use the man’s asinine comments to improve with each paper, but it was clear she was beating her head against a brick wall—a six-foot-two-inch brick wall with light brown hair and soulful, deep brown eyes.
Crap, why did her teacher have to be so hot? He made her think completely inappropriate thoughts and she’d be damned if she became a cliché—the college coed who falls in love with her professor.
She’d refused to question Professor Wallace personally about her papers because the idea of being anywhere alone with him intimidated the hell out of her. When he looked at her, she felt as if he saw way more than just the surface and she was uncomfortable under his all-knowing gaze. Usually she kept her eyes averted as she took notes from the man’s lectures lest she unwittingly reveal her less-than-scholarly interest in him.
But now it was mid-April, just two weeks from the end of the semester, and she’d finally hit her limit on all these damn C’s. He was younger than most of her college professors—somewhere in his mid-thirties, she guessed, which should make him more approachable, not less. At twenty-seven, she was just old enough to feel completely out of place on campus as she watched the barely-out-of-their-teens student body discussing last weekend’s wild parties. She should be old enough, mature enough to face Professor Wallace without babbling like a child. But there was something about the man. She didn’t have trouble telling anyone what she thought and she considered herself a fairly independent, outspoken woman…with everyone except him.
He turned back toward the class and caught her eye. In the past, she would have scrambled to avoid that intense look. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and held his gaze. He stumbled momentarily over his words and she felt a small, petty smile curve the side of her lips.
She’d shaken Mr. Unshakable. Caused Mr. Perfect to lose his implacable cool.
He recovered quickly, finishing his thought, but his eyes refused to move from hers and she felt the moment stretching into a battle of wills. For several minutes, he continued to speak as if she were the only person in the room while she merely stared, not bothering to write down a word of his lecture. She’d pay for that stubbornness later, but right now the only thing that mattered was winning this war.
“Um, Professor Wallace.” Roy’s hand went up, forcing both of them to break their concentration.
“Yes, Mr. Decker.”
“It’s time for class to be over.”
Professor Wallace grinned and Keira sucked in a deep breath at the sight. For a moment her confidence, her determination wavered and she considered avoiding the coming confrontation once again.
“So it is. I want you to bring rough drafts of a five-page short story to class next time. There must be a lengthy dialogue included in the story. Class dismissed. Miss Collins,” Professor Wallace added as she rose. “Please follow me to my office. I’d like to speak to you about your paper.”
Shit. Double shit.
She’d gone too far apparently, tempted the bear from his den and he had taken the decision to discuss her grade out of her hands.
She stiffened her spine and watched the other students file out as she gathered her things. Once the room was empty, the professor gestured for her to precede him down the hall. She knew where his office was, having stood outside the closed door on more than one occasion debating whether or not to knock and question his grading practices. She’d never managed to work up the nerve. She was starting to think she wouldn’t have held on to it tonight either.
They approached his office door and he unlocked it, again motioning for her to lead the way. As she entered the room, she heard the door close behind them.
She turned and glanced at the closed door. He followed her gaze.
“I want to ensure that we aren’t disturbed.” His words, though spoken lightly, sent a shiver of fear through her. His voice was deep, sensuous, and she found her thoughts drifting to places best left unexplored.
“How old are you, Miss Collins?” he asked.
She was taken aback by his unexpected question. “I’m twenty-seven. Why?”
“You’re considerably older than the other students in the class.” His reply was succinct, but far from an answer.
She didn’t think it was any mystery that she was older than most of her classmates.
“I don’t consider seven, eight years such a vast gap.”
He grinned at her and again she felt overwhelmed by the power of his close proximity. Every time the man got within five feet of her, her body shifted into overdrive. Her nipples were erect, her breathing stilted, her stomach tied in knots.
“I agree. It isn’t,” he assured her, and she realized at that moment he wasn’t completely unaffected by their nearness either. He seemed slightly nervous as well. “You don’t live on campus, do you?”
As he spoke, his eyes covertly traveled down her body and she was struck by the fact that his wayward glance didn’t bother her, as it did when patrons of the restaurant where she worked did the same. His look seemed to be more appraising, almost clinical, while with other men the look couldn’t be called anything more than a leer, an unsavory study of her body. She’d long ago accepted that men found her pretty. With waist-length, wavy black hair, porcelain skin and ice blue eyes, she’d fought off more than her share of unwanted attention. Of course, it helped that she had four enormous, overprotective brothers at her back.
“No, I don’t live on campus,” she replied. She still lived at home with her father and siblings, still worked as a waitress at the family business, still did everything the same as she had when she was a teenager. She sighed as she considered his question and how dull her life truly was.
Her mother had passed away midway through her senior year and the raising of her six younger brothers and sisters had fallen to her. Not that her father had ever charged her with that duty. As the oldest, she’d simply assumed the role because, well, there hadn’t been anyone else and because she loved her family almost to the exclusion of everything else. She wondered sometimes if she’d almost lost her own identity in that love.
She glanced at the clock that hung on his wall. Five fifteen. She only had forty-five minutes to weave her way out of this unusual conversation and bust ass across town to be at work by six.
“You have some concerns about your grade, I believe.” His astute comment, on the heels of his strange questions, left her reeling.
“Um, yes,” she began, struggling to speak her mind under his intense gaze.
What would he look like without any clothes on
?
That inappropriate question sent a flush of heat to her face and she watched his gaze narrow, his lips twitch slightly. He couldn’t know what she was thinking. Could he?
“I don’t understand why you keep giving me C’s.”
“I don’t give grades, Miss Collins. My students earn them.”
She rolled her eyes at the old teacher line and was surprised when her reaction provoked a light laugh from the man.
“I used to hate it when my teachers used that answer on me as well,” he admitted.
“My papers are grammatically correct. I include paragraphs, proper punctuation and I know the spelling is flawless.”
“And this, to you, indicates A work?” he asked.
“Yes.” She looked up at him, wondering how they’d gotten so close. She could have sworn when they’d begun this conversation, he’d been halfway across the room. Had she moved? Had he?
“I’ve given you suggestions on every paper.”
She scoffed. “The same suggestion on every paper and it doesn’t make any sense. You say my writing lacks emotion. I’ve tried to address that, but you still say the same thing, every time. And you gave Roy Decker the same damn grade. His paper sucked.”
“Miss Collins, this course is over in two weeks. Why are you only now questioning your grades? That comment?”
Frustration and weariness won out in her fight to maintain her anger. She still had an eight-hour shift to work. “I guess I thought I could figure it out on my own, but I can’t. Fact is, I don’t understand what you want from me.”