Kiss Me If You Dare Read Online Free Page B

college would even want me? Besides marrying Brad and settling down and possibly continuing to renovate homes on the side, I had no spectacular future plans.
    At the thought of Brad, the ache near my shoulder flared up. I rested my arm in my lap. I’d done too much already today. The doctor had told me to take it easy. Shopping wasn’t exactly a contact sport, but my body would need a few days to recover from the exertion. I gritted my teeth, determined to make it through the interview before giving in to the pain.
    I eased the Jag past a group of students on the sidewalk. They waved as I drove by.
    I found a parking space close to the door and got out.
    A woman stopped at the front bumper. She held a stack of books in one hand. The other was on her hip. Short, kinked brown hair, a few shades darker than her skin, lifted at random in the breeze.
    “I thought you were the doc,” she said, annoyance in her voice.
    “Oh.” I looked at the Jag and a lightbulb came on. “No, he lent me his car for the morning.” I smoothed my skirt and auto-locked the doors.
    She gave me a probing once-over. “Who are you, a recruiter from the naval base?”
    Her attitude got to me. I pulled rank. “No. I’m the professor’s niece from Galveston.” I thrust my good hand toward her. “Alisha Braddock. Nice to meet you. And your name is?”
    I detected a flush creeping up her cheeks. She switched her stack of books to the opposite hand and shook mine in a quick salute. “Portia Romero. Nice to meet you.”
    I gave a final thrust. “I’ll make sure to let Uncle Denton know you’re looking for him. Bye.” I flung a smirk over my shoulder and headed to my interview.
    The nerve of some people. I steamed about Portia Romero’s hoity-toity attitude all the way to the front entrance of Walters Hall. I stopped at the stone steps, took a deep breath, and tried to clear my mind.
    My big second chance at college. A re-do. A turning back of the clock. All I had to do was make the best of the next six months. Maybe the credits would transfer to a college back in Michigan and I could finish school there. As soon as Brad called me home.
    Inside, I scanned the directory. Dean of Admissions, Suite 401. I swallowed hard at the other words that popped off the marquis: Dean of Bible Studies, Philosophy, Theology . . . not exactly my cup of tea.
    I took the elevator. My heart rate increased with the altitude. The doors opened. Stark black marble and a potted plant gave a sober welcome.
    Inside, the acrid scent of just-installed industrial carpet matched its blackberry-pie hue. A tawny counter, the color of flaky crust, separated visitors from staff. I folded my hands on the textured surface and forced them to be still. Near a bank of windows overlooking the campus, an attractive redhead sat behind a desk.
    “Hi,” I said, getting the woman’s attention. “I’m Ti—” I caught my blunder and swallowed. “I’m Alisha Braddock. I’m here for an interview with the dean.”
    A smile lit her face. She toyed with something on the arm of her chair and the whole thing backed out from the desk and wheeled over to the counter. She reached up a hand in greeting. “I’m so pleased to meet you. Professor Braddock is a favorite around here. He’s told us so many wonderful things about his niece from Galveston.”
    “He has?” I leaned over the counter and shook her hand.
    “Of course. And I can see why. You’re beautiful. Just beautiful.”
    I dropped my arm, dazed. “Oh, that Uncle Denton,” I played along. “He shouldn’t have.” For the moment I was glad to be decked out in my dress duds. It felt good to be considered beautiful by a complete stranger, even if she was just trying to butter up the niece of the beloved “Doc.”
    “Dean Lester will see you in just a moment. Go ahead and have a seat.” She nodded to the row of chairs by the door.
    An assortment of Del Gloria College literature was scattered in tidy array on a coffee table. I