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Savannah
Damn Professor Holmes. If he wasn’t the best teacher out there, she’d probably have dropped his class at the beginning of the year.
And it didn’t hurt that he was sexy as hell. Younger than all the rest of her professors, smoking hot, and totally unaware of it. Or maybe he was and he hid it well.
Screw that. It made it worse. Because every time she challenged him in class, he’d turn those steady brown eyes on her and she’d have to squeeze her thighs together tight in her seat. He didn’t look like he was listening to her so much as devouring her soul whole. His voice was so low and smooth it was like he was trying to hypnotize her.
Then the asshole gives her a B+?
Savannah swung behind the counter of the bar where she worked evenings most days of the week. If she wasn’t working, she’d have done a shot of tequila. Or two. Anything to get out her frustration.
Not only did she have to do the paper over again, but she had to do it better. And in what spare time? She had to work the entire weekend, she had other papers. She had a life—sort of. Either way, she didn’t want to rewrite the paper. But she couldn’t afford to get anything less than an A+.
“What crawled up your ass?” Spencer asked.
Her gaze whipped up. “God, Spence. I didn’t see you there.”
“Too busy slamming things around.” He nodded, stepped back to let her through. “Spill it.”
Savannah grabbed four shot glasses, filled them, regretted again that she couldn’t have one of her own and sighed. “Professor Holmes is being stingy with his A’s again.”
Spencer grinned. “Professor McHottie? It’s been a while since you talked about him.”
“It’s been a while since he’s pissed me off.”
Which was entirely untrue. He pissed her off pretty much every week, but she kind of enjoyed their debates. At least he was stimulating her mentally.
She rolled her eyes. He was stimulating her other ways, too, but she tried not to think about that. He was her teacher. And she hated him on a regular basis.
“But, like…” Spencer shrugged. “Doesn’t him pissing you off make it even hotter?”
“Make what hotter?”
Spencer frowned. “Your corner table is eyeing you. Better get them their shots before they freak.”
Savannah brought the shots to her table and gave them her most charming smile. The one she usually reserved for Professor McHottie when she needed him to up her grade. Sure, it was a low move, but come on—the guy knew she deserved it.
So she took it easy with this paper. Sue her—she had things to do. She’d been running on four hours of sleep when she wrote the thing and she’d still killed it. Why couldn’t he just take his dumb red felt pen and write A+?
“Are you ready to order?” Savannah asked the group of girls.
It was clearly party night for them, as they were dressed in their skimpiest clothing, with a ton of cleavage and probably a ton of ass. None of them had gotten up yet, but she’d no doubt those skirts barely covered their butts.
To each other own. If Savannah had more time, she’d probably be out living it up, too. She might even have a boyfriend.
“We need more time,” one of the girls said loudly. The others nodded in agreement. “More time!”
Savannah smiled at them again. She needed good tips, so regardless of how out-of-control they got, she’d grin and bear it.
Once she returned to the bar, she dodged Spencer as he poured two beers from the tap and slid them across the counter.
“Where were we?” he asked. “Oh yeah, Professor McHotness and all his…attributes.”
“You were talking about that, not me.”
Spence rolled his eyes. “What? You’re telling me you don’t think he’s the finest thing you’ve seen since Channing Tatum?”
Spence had great taste. Too bad he played for the other team. “I mean…sure, he’s cute. In a scholarly way.”
“Cute?” He choked on a laugh. “Cute is puppies and rainbows and those red shoes you wore last week. The ones with the straps—”
“Yeah. Those were cute.”
“Professor McBigPackage is not cute. He’s…divine. He’s couture. He’s Swarovski. He’s…perfection.”
Savannah nodded at a couple who sat on the other end of the bar. She slid them menus before returning to Spence. A loud pop song started up and she raised her voice to be heard over it. “If you like that sort of thing.”
“You don’t?”
“I didn’t say that. It’s just…”
Spencer frowned. “What? You’re not a kid. Neither is he. Do him.”
“He’s my teacher. There are still boundaries.”
“Why? He’s obviously not playing favorites and giving you the best grade in class. He can be grown-up about it.”
Savannah bit her cheek. “Technically I do have the best grade in class. Or I will after I redo this paper.”
“So he’s playing favorites? Because he could do far worse, honey. You’ve got legs for days and more class than those four put together.” He nodded to the group of girls in the corner.
“I bet you ten dollars one of them falls off her chair by the end of the night.”
Spence shook his head. “Hell no. It’s guaranteed one of them will fall of the chair. I’m not taking that bet. I need my money—I’m saving up for a new jacket. Anyway, if Professor McSweetAss isn’t looking your way, he’s blind.”
She laughed. “You sure do know how to charm a lady.”
“You’re changing the subject. You can’t tell me you don’t think he’s finneeee.”
“Sure. He’s all right.”
Spence crossed his arms. “All right? Try again.”
“All right!” Savannah laughed and reached for more shot glasses because she knew she’d need them soon. “He’s fine. Okay? He’s so fucking hot, I dream about him with his scholarly glasses and a book of Shakespeare, trying to get me all worked up with iambic pentameter.”
“That’s hot. You’d totally do him.”
“Yes, I’d totally do him. If the semester was over and I ran into him out on the street somewhere, I’d say, ‘Professor Holmes, you’re great in the class room, but I bet you’re even better in the bedroom. I’m sure you have a lot to teach me.’”
Spence’s eyes lit with laughter. “There’s only three weeks of classes left. You should do it before then.”
“Uh huh,” she said with a challenge in her eyes. “It’s happening next time I see him.”
Spencer grabbed her arm and pulled her to his side. “I’m glad you said that, because now’s your chance.”
Her head jerked up, and she spotted him. Professor Holmes. He sat in a booth in the corner, his hair mussed from the window outside.
As if he felt her eyes on him, he turned. His gaze locked on hers.
Then his lips curved into a slow smile.