“I apologize again for startling you,” he added.
She smiled, and that something inside him that had stirred to life began to quiver and hum like a finely strung wire. “Think nothing of it,” she told him, clasping the heavy book possessively to her breasts.
The book, Rory thought vaguely as he watched her complete the gesture. There was something about that book…That was what he had wanted to ask her about initially, wasn’t it? Volume fifteen of the Stegman’s? Yes, of course. Now he remembered. Miss Thornbury had been about to shelve it. And now she had it clasped to her breasts. Clasped affectionately to her full, ripe—
Oh, he was never going to be able to look at Stegman’s Guide to the Peloponnesian War the same way again.
“Is that volume fifteen?” he asked softly, dipping his head toward the book in question.
She glanced down at it, then back up at Rory. “Why, yes. As a matter of fact, it is. I was reading it on my lunch hour again and was about to put it back where it belongs.”
“Actually, Miss Thornbury, where it currently belongs is on my table.”
She offered him a faintly puzzled expression. “Your table?” she asked.
He nodded again, more resolutely this time. “You see, I was using it last night for my research, and I placed it with the other volumes I’d consulted, on my table, because I knew I would need it again today. I’m sure that’s where you found it in the first place.”
She seemed to give his remark thorough consideration. “Yes, I did find it on a table, now that you mention it,” she said, “but I didn’t realize you were using it.”
“Well, now you do,” he replied mildly.
He told himself to remind her that the table from which she’d taken the Stegman’s was Professor Rory Monahan’s table, and to reiterate how essential it was that she never, ever touch a single volume of any book she might find there. He told himself to stress most forcefully how important his research was, and how it was imperative that he have a place where he might be able to pursue that research unhampered.
Unfortunately, Miss Thornbury chose that moment to extend the book toward him, and when she did, the faint scent of lavender seemed to come at him from out of nowhere, and Rory could no more form words in that moment than he could have changed lead into gold.
So he only took the book from her and tried not to notice how warm it was from being pressed against her, or how rosy and plump the upper swells of her breasts were where she had held it. Somehow, he managed to mumble his thanks under his breath. And then, without a further word, he spun on his heel to return to his desk. To his studies. To his research.
He told himself he was not fleeing in terror from an attractive woman. And he assured himself that there was nothing more important than the work that he needed—and intended—to pursue that afternoon.
Nothing.
However, Rory very much feared that for the rest of the afternoon he would be able to think of little other than Miss Thornbury’s…assets. And suddenly the word research took on an entirely new meaning.
Four
Well, that had gone very well, Miriam thought as she watched and marveled at Professor Monahan’s speedy retreat. Very well indeed. She’d had no idea about the power one could wield with no more than a slim skirt, a snug top and a tube of really red lipstick. Had she realized how easy it was to turn the tables on a man, she might have tried to do it a long time ago.
Then again, there hadn’t been many men in her life upon whom Miriam had actually wanted to turn the tables. Oh, certainly there had been the occasional romantic interest—one or two of them had even become somewhat serious over time. But eventually, all of those romantic interests had fizzled out and wandered off. And in the long run Miriam had been left feeling surprisingly unhurt by the failure of any of them. Really, she supposed she’d just never felt for any of those men the kind of…well, whatever it was she found herself feeling for Rory Monahan.
And just what precisely was she feeling for Rory Monahan, anyway? she asked herself. Before today she had thought she was just more or less infatuated with him. She had thought she was experiencing a crush on him, albeit a rather substantial one. Though, granted, she had hoped she might broaden that infatuation, that crush, into something more, for both of them.
After the interlude they’d just shared, however, she was beginning to think that her feelings for the good professor already went much, much deeper than simple infatuation or a mere crush. Recalling the way he had looked upon her just moments ago, with such heat and such fire building in his eyes…Remembering the way he had clenched his fingers tighter on the bare flesh of her thigh…
Well, something equally fiery and hot had sparked to life inside of Miriam. Something very significant. Something totally unrecognizable. Something she’d never come close to feeling before.
And she very much suspected that it was her Inner Temptress awakening.
Goodness, she thought. Metropolitan magazine was right. Where Professor Monahan was concerned, she had indeed gone from invisible to…well, something visible, she told herself, if not irresistible. And she had done it in fewer than “seven seductive steps.” Because she’d only used two seductive steps so far—the one about opting for brighter, snugger clothing, and the one about donning really red lipstick. And look at the results she had already achieved. At this rate it might not even be necessary for her to go as far as seductive step number seven, which involved—
Well. Miriam would just as soon not ponder what seductive step number seven involved right now. Not here, in a public place. A public place that was supported by the tax dollars of hardworking citizens.
Instead she pondered the amazing results she had already achieved with regard to her…temptressing…of Rory Monahan. Because she had definitely become visible to him, she thought with much satisfaction. He had definitely seen her. He’d also felt her, she recalled as a rush of heat raced through her. And the article had said nothing about going from invisible to malleable, in any number of steps, so that was really an accomplishment.
And she congratulated herself, too, for using her own ingenuity to supplement seductive steps number one and two. After all, she had been the one to theorize that if a woman wanted to draw a man’s attention, then she must have something that the man in question wanted. And what could Rory Monahan possibly want more than volume fifteen of Stegman’s Guide to the Peloponnesian War, hmm?
Well, if things worked out the way she hoped, Miriam thought, there would indeed be something that Rory Monahan wanted more than volume fifteen of the Stegman’s. He would want all the volumes of Miss Miriam Thornbury, along with all assorted indices, appendices, tables and charts.
She smiled as she began rehearsing in her head how she would go about applying seductive step number three with regard to her temptressing of Professor Monahan. That particular step involved repartee, so she knew she would have to do some practicing before she actually put the step into motion. And truly, there was no reason why she had to rush into repartee today. She had already made herself visible to Rory Monahan this afternoon. If she used repartee now, it might very well be too much for him. She didn’t want to overwhelm the poor man, after all.
Plus, she needed to prepare herself, in case the results of that foray ended up being as successful as her results today had been. Should Rory decide he wanted to…oh, grip her thigh—or some other part of her—again, Miriam wanted to be ready for it.
My, my, my, she thought with a smile—and a nervous stomach. She had never been much of a magazine reader in the past, but suddenly she couldn’t wait to get home to see what words of wisdom Metropolitan had to impart to her today.
Miriam gave Rory Monahan as little time as possible to recover before she launched into the next phase of her plan. And it wound up being a very good next phase, too, one she should have thought of undertaking a long time ago, and as much more than just a next phase. Because two days after Miriam had awakened her Inner Temptress, she read in
the Marigold Messenger that the final section of summer adult extended education classes would be starting at the Marigold Community College. And one of those extended education classes just so happened to be an intensive five-week session taught by Professor Rory Monahan, a session called “Introduction to Classical Civilizations II.”
Miriam could not believe her good fortune upon reading the announcement. Not only could she enroll herself in a class that Rory Monahan would be teaching, but she’d always wanted to learn more about classical civilizations, anyway. It was a definite win-win situation. She stopped by the community college on her way to work that very afternoon to register for the class that, very conveniently, began the following Monday night. Then she rearranged her workload at the library so that Lucy Chin, one of the assistant librarians, could cover some of her hours.
Intensive, Miriam reiterated to herself now, as she strode toward the classroom where her session would be meeting. That was what the course description had called Professor Monahan’s class. Intensive. Oh, yes. She hoped it would be very intensive indeed.
She ducked into a nearby ladies’ room before entering the classroom, to drag a brush through her hair and reapply some of the really red lipstick that had worked so successfully on the good professor the week before. She also ran a hand over the snug, sapphire-blue Capri pants she’d purchased over the weekend to compensate for her wardrobe’s current—and profound—lack of perky, peppy, fun fashions, which was what Metropolitan magazine assured her she must wear. Miriam contemplated her sleeveless, sapphire-blue blouse, too, as she studied her reflection in the mirror, and, very daringly, decided to unfasten the top button before heading off to class.
My, but she was audacious. She hoped Professor Monahan wasn’t too awfully overcome by her taunting behavior. Or, rather, by the taunting behavior of her Inner Temptress. Because that was who was behind the unbuttoning, Miriam told herself. Normally Miriam would never do such a bold thing. Her Inner Temptress, however, had no such qualms.
Only as Miriam was turning away from the mirror did she begin to have second thoughts about what she was doing. Did she really want to come across as such a…such a…such a taunting temptress? Especially since that wasn’t her natural state at all? What if she did finally manage to snag Rory’s attention, and more, only to realize that he had fallen for her Inner Temptress, instead of her Real Self?
It was entirely possible that such a scenario might occur, she thought. After all, he’d never paid her much heed before the day she’d awakened her Inner Temptress. Oh, certainly he had always greeted her politely when he encountered her at the library, and he had always paused long enough to make small talk with her. He had also usually, and very chivalrously, walked her to her car on those evenings when the two of them left the library together alone.
But that had probably just been because his car was invariably parked close to hers, she told herself now. Or simply because he was a gentleman who would perform the same service for any solitary woman. It wasn’t necessarily because he was interested in Miriam specifically.
Though she was confident that he did like her. At least, he liked her when he gave her some thought, she amended with a heavy sigh. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to give Miriam Thornbury much thought once she was out of his direct line of vision. He had certainly seemed to like her Inner Temptress much better. Certainly he had noticed her Inner Temptress more.
Then again, Miriam argued to herself, it was her Inner Temptress, wasn’t it? Therefore, it must be a part of her. Somehow. Somewhere. Some way. Right?
Right?
Ignoring, for now, the sick feeling that was squishing around in the pit of her stomach, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin and hoped that she appeared more confident than she actually felt. Then, throwing caution to the wind, and her hair back over her shoulders, Miriam reached up to unfasten a second button on her blouse.
Well, what could she say? she asked herself. Her Inner Temptress made her do it.
Rory had just completed his first time line on the chalkboard when he turned to face the students in his intensive, five-week, “Introduction to Classical Civilizations II” session. He didn’t normally teach night classes during the summer—that was time he liked to reserve for his research—especially the classes in the adult extended-education program. But the regularly scheduled professor had, at the beginning of the summer, been presented with an opportunity to spend a full three weeks at the end of July studying Hippodamus of Miletus—in Piraeus, no less. How on earth could Rory have refused to fill in for her, by teaching her class, so that she could take advantage of such an amazingly fortuitous circumstance? Provided, of course, she shared all of her notes and photographs with him upon her return.
Now as Rory spun around to face his class, he realized it might not be such a bad thing to teach this session. It was one of his favorites in spite of its lack of in-depth analysis, and nothing brought him greater joy than imparting the fascinating details of Classical life to people who were unfamiliar with those details.
Teaching, Rory thought, was almost as gratifying and fulfilling as learning was, and he always looked forward to both. Especially when the faces gazing back at him from the classroom were so rapt and eager and focused…
And luscious and tempting and ripe and red and…
And good God, was that Miss Thornbury and her ripe, red, tempting, luscious mouth sitting there in the very front row? With her calves showing? And two buttons of her blouse unfastened? Was it?
Oooh, it was going to be a long five-week session, Rory suddenly thought. And intensive, too. Very intensive indeed.
He sighed as he tossed the stub of chalk into the tray behind himself, then pushed away from the blackboard to take his place behind the dais he’d set on the table between him and his class. Not that a dais was going to do him any good with Miss Thornbury looking like…like…like that.
He gripped the dais fiercely, anyway, cleared his throat and said, “Good evening, class. I’m Professor Rory Monahan, and this is ‘Introduction to Classical Civilizations II.’ I hope you’ve all come to the right place.”
One person, Rory noted, stood and gathered her things together, having evidently realized she was indeed in the wrong place. But it wasn’t Miss Thornbury. And that, Rory discovered, was a development about which he had mixed feelings. On one hand, it would make his going infinitely smoother if he didn’t have to be distracted by Miss Thornbury’s mouth—or, rather, by Miss Thornbury, he hastily corrected himself—seated there in the center of the front row. On the other hand, an oddly pleasant sensation spiraled through him at seeing Miss Thornbury’s mouth—or, rather, Miss Thornbury, he hastily corrected himself—seated there in the center of the front row.
What to do, what to do…
Well, what could he do? Rory thought. He must teach the class, as he normally would teach it. He couldn’t exactly ask one student to leave because she was too ripe and luscious and tempting, could he? No, that would be frightfully impolite. Not to mention it would open up the community college to a sexual harassment lawsuit the likes of which Marigold, Indiana, had never seen. And Rory didn’t want to harass Miss Thornbury sexually. No, what he had planned for Miss Thornbury, sexually speaking, was in no way harassing. Fun, by all means. But not harassing.
And good heavens, where was his mind tonight? Certainly not on anything classical—that was clearly evident. He had no plans for Miss Thornbury, Rory reminded himself, sexual or otherwise. She was far too distracting. Among other things. He’d never be able to focus on his studies and his research if he began planning things with her.
Then again, would that necessarily be such a bad thing? he asked himself.
He was utterly shocked by the question when it unrolled in his head. Of course it would be a bad thing to be unable to focus on his studies and research. Why, the very idea. Rory’s studies and research were everything to him. Life without the quest for knowledge would be…would be…
Well
, it would be meaningless. What other reason was there to exist, if not to seek and gain more knowledge?
Inescapably his gaze wandered back to Miss Thornbury, over her shins, her calves, her arms, her two unfastened buttons and, inevitably, her mouth. And he began to think that there might be one or two things besides the quest for knowledge that would give his life meaning, and make it more enjoyable.
Nevertheless, he cautioned himself, he wasn’t the sort of man who could make the kind of commitment to a relationship that a woman like Miss Thornbury would demand and deserve. It wouldn’t be fair to promote a liaison with her, because regardless of how…incandescent…such a liaison might be, in the long run Rory would need more than just a ripe mouth and tempting calves. He would need knowledge. That would override any potential relationship that might develop between him and the luscious librarian. And that, Rory thought, simply would not be fair to Miss Thornbury.
He cleared his throat again, and tried to proceed in his usual fashion once more. “I’m Professor Monahan,” he began again on behalf of his eight remaining students. “And in this particular session, we’ll be covering the period between 735 B.C.—we’ll begin with the Messenian wars between Sparta and Messenia—and 554 A.D., with Emperor Justinian’s attempts to reclaim the Roman Empire from the Byzantines. Yes, it’s a lot to cover, and very exciting stuff to boot,” he said with a smile, “but if we all work very hard, pay attention and complete our assigned reading, we shall all be better people for it by the end of the term. Now then. Let’s get started.”
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