Play Fling (A Stupid Cupid Book) Read Online Free Page B

up to you. Come out with me. Dinner. My treat.”
    Brooke halted in front of the ajar door, arm
out to open it. Her body stiffened.
    “Brooke?” Millie’s voice sounded far away.
“Hello?”
    The gulp of air she’d inhaled whooshed out as
her mind confirmed what her senses already suspected. Behind
Shope’s desk, Blue Eyes looked up at her.
    His expression flashed surprise then
smoothed. His chair scraped over the floor. He stood and came from
behind the worn metal desk. His lips parted but he didn’t speak.
Hopefully, because Brooke had jabbed a finger into the air, and not
because she’d rendered him speechless. She’d rendered enough for
one day.
    “Dinner sounds great!” she said, faking
enthusiasm.
    “Really?” Millie’s tone improved. “Oh. Good.
How about in an hour or so? After class?”
    “I’m on my way now. I’m just dropping
something off.”
    “Now? Um, okay, but I’m not really ready yet.
Did your class let out early or something? You sound funny.”
    Brooke pursed her lips. Blue eyes closed his
mouth and sat at the edge of the creaky desk, arms crossed. He
could have been James Dean for all the recklessness in his
demeanor. Except for those glasses. She might be able to think
straight, in fact, were it not for those damned glasses. “I’m
great. So, where again?”
    “Alright,” Millie said. “I’ll play along but
only if you promise to spill every last detail the minute you see
me.”
    Brooke giggled. Leastwise, she did her best
version of a giggle. Whether or not it sounded as flirtatious as
she hoped, only Blue Eyes—she had to stop calling him that! —could
say. Not that she would ask. “Ramone’s? Perfect. I love Italian. On
my way now.”
    Millie squealed. “Brooke, I have to say, I
love this game. So, are we really meeting at Ramone’s or does it
even matter what I say right now? Is it a guy? No, wait, it’s your
professor, right? Your ex?”
    Brooke stiffened at the mention of Jason. Her
belly flopped and sank. “You, too. Bye.”
    She hung up, no longer caring what impressed
her audience or not. All she knew was her best friend—and she
hadn’t had any in a very long time—had secretly called her
ex-husband for reasons unknown. Millie hadn’t asked Brooke for a
referral. Generally broke, Millie didn’t own a home to sell. So,
there wasn’t a single reason to call Jason. The whole thing felt
wrong.
    She’d find out from Millie soon enough. The
back of her throat burned a little just thinking about it but she
kept a straight face and gave Shope’s lackey—much better
nickname—her attention.
    The last thing she wanted was him putting a
face to her paper’s name. She handed over the paper-clipped pages,
half turned to leave. “I found this outside on a bench. In the
quad.”
    “Really?” The desk creaked as he shifted,
taking the paper. “That’s it?”
    Brooke couldn’t stand any straighter.
“Yes.”
    “No, ‘thank you for the books’, no ‘hello, my
name is…?’” He actually sounded more amused than wounded.
    She kept her gaze on his mouth. Didn’t help
her legs to firm up and start working. “Mmm-hmmm.”
    “Well, allow me.” He extended his hand and
cocked his head in an I-don’t-bite kind of way. “I’m Elliott.”
    Her toes tingled. The entire afternoon’s
incident flashed hot in her mind. If she stayed any longer, she’d
be stumbling over her tongue, telling him all sorts of things about
the books, about class, about Millie. She could see it now. He’d be
kind enough to fake interest, in what was none of his concern, and
she’d end up falling all over herself for another one of his panty
melting smiles. No thank you.
    Not only was he half her age—two-thirds?—but
he also had graded every one of her papers. Average. By his standards. She’d played the doe-eyed college girl act before. It
didn’t feel good.
    “Nice to meet you,” Brooke managed. One final
glance of him, his eyes, his hands, his broad shoulders and