At the steps to my high school, Rhett turned to face me, eyebrows raised. Peeling paint covered the wide double doors, but they seemed smaller than I remembered. Everything did, from the size of the parking lot down to the building itself. I stared up at the banner strung between the windows on the second floor. Welcome back, Alumni.

“Nervous?” Rhett asked, as if he couldn’t tell by the dampness of my palm in his.

“Yes.” My voice cracked on the single syllable.

“Don’t be. You look amazing. And I guarantee you’re more successful than any of the people inside. Besides, you’re with me, and we both know how awesome I am.”

“You are.”

“That was a joke. You’re supposed to laugh,” Rhett said.

“Oh. Sorry.” Twenty-three bricks above the door. Fifteen steps to the threshold. Nine windows on the front facing wall. “This is bad. Everything is odd.”

“What do you mean?” He tilted his head and took a step closer.

“The numbers. They’re all wrong.” The only things on my body shaking worse than my hands were my knees.

Understanding lit his eyes. He nodded. “I see.” His focus turned to the building. “I think you’re missing a few things.”

“No. I’m sure.” I shook my head and tried to back away.

The grip of his fingers tightened around my hand. “Two lampposts. Two doors. Eight chimneys. Eight is good, right?” I nodded, relaxing the smallest bit. He glanced over his shoulder at the parking lot. “Off the top of my head, I see eight blue cars in the front row. And there are eight birds sitting on the fence around the track. If that’s not a good sign, you can slap me and call me Nancy.”

Laughter burst out of me. Pervasive warmth spread through my body. He got me, in a way no one ever had, not even Dr. Mortensen. As long as he stood beside me, I had nothing to fear from Walt or any of the others. He took my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my face up to meet his eyes.

“You’ve got this, angel. You’re Dr. Bronte Hollander, award-winning researcher and kick-ass mathematician.” He winked, sending a heated shiver down my back, and pulled me closer to whisper in my ear. “And a devil in the bedroom.”

“Rhett.” Embarrassment rushed into my cheeks. I pushed on his chest playfully. He grunted then drew me into his embrace and placed a kiss on my forehead. In his arms, I felt safe and loved.

“Someone’s coming. We’d better get inside,” he said, releasing me and moving toward the door.

We were one of the last couples to arrive. A woman handed me a name badge. I cringed at the picture next to my name. Fat. Frizzy-haired. Thick glasses. Special.

“I’m sorry.” Her mouth twisted. She glanced from me to the picture and back again. “That can’t be right. What was your name again?”

“Bronte. Bronte Hollander,” I said for the third time.

“They must have gotten the wrong photo on here.” She tried to retrieve the badge from my hand.

“Nope. No mistake,” I replied. “That’s me.”

The woman tilted her head and looked me over. “Well, you sure have changed.”

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Rhett took the badge and dropped it into his pocket. He leaned down to whisper in my ear. “It’ll be more fun this way. Let them guess.”

“And who are you?” The woman leaned forward, revealing her ample cleavage, a simpering smile on her face.

“I’m with her,” he said. He took my hand. “Come on, angel. Let’s hit the dance floor.”

As we walked down the hall toward the gymnasium, music vibrated through the walls. Rhett paused long enough to gaze into my eyes before swinging open the door. “Ready?”

I nodded and placed a hand on my belly to curb the sudden lurch of my stomach. I drew in a deep breath. Rhett placed a steadying hand on the small of my back. At his touch, the rational side of my brain kicked into dominance. Like Rhett had said, I had nothing to fear. My career was on the upside, my acne had long ago subsided, and I had the best-looking man in existence on my arm.

Streamers and balloons draped across the room. We found a table near the dance floor. A quick glance around revealed nothing but unfamiliar faces. The tension in my neck began to ease. When Rhett rested an arm along the back of my chair, my heart skipped a beat and I forgot to worry about my classmates. He was here with me—me—the most unpopular girl in the graduating class. I’d wasted too much time worrying about everyone else when I needed to be enjoying his company.

“Want to dance?” he asked, as if reading my mind.

“You bet.”

The music slowed. I followed him to the dance floor and rested my hands on his shoulders. He placed his hands on my waist, low enough on my behind to bring a rush of heat to my face. Sometimes I forgot how tall and athletic he was. We moved from side to side. He guided me easily around the floor, pulling me closer with each step. I could feel his heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest. The scent of his cologne tickled my nose. Although I’d never had a sense of rhythm, I melted into the tempo of the song. Rhett hummed the melody in my ear. The sound of his rich tenor sent a pulse of desire coursing through my body and straight into my panties.

“How long do we have to stay?” I asked, eager to get him home, out of his suit, and into bed.

He pulled back to look at me with narrowed eyes. “Why?”

“I’d like to have sex,” I said. “A lot of it. Preferably with me on top.”

“You’re something else.” The corners of his eyes crinkled in a way I’d begun to adore. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Sex,” I repeated. “Didn’t you hear me the first time?”

“I heard you.” Laughter shook his chest. “Well, I’m not going to turn that down. You need to stay an hour. Then we can go, if you want.”

“Why an hour?” I let my hands slide down his chest, enjoying the hard muscle between the sleek fabric of his charcoal suit jacket.

“Because fifty-nine minutes are too short and sixty-one seem like too many.” One side of his mouth curled upward. On impulse, I pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“Are you teasing me? You know I don’t get that sort of thing.”

“Seems to me you understood my meaning just fine.”

The song had ended, and we’d stopped dancing. We stood there, my hands on his chest, his gripping my ass. I couldn’t look away from his eyes, their dark intensity, or the chiseled angles of his face. He exhaled through his nose before giving my bottom a final squeeze, sending tingles down my legs.

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. Do you think the punch is spiked?” he asked.

“Probably.” Feeling bubbly inside, I floated at his side. “I’m going to visit the ladies.”

“I’ll meet you at the refreshment table.” He bent and dropped a kiss on the tip of my nose before tapping it with his finger. “Hurry back.”