GAME MISCONDUCT (The Dartmouth Cobras) Read Online Free PDF Page B

reflected in Callahan’s eyes.
    The ocean always mesmerized her.
    “Tell me, princess, did it get you off?”
    But the ocean didn’t have a big, stupid mouth.
    Her chin jutted up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Sure you don’t.” He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “So soft. I can imagine you in that position . . .” When she jerked away, he laughed. “But you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
    Oh, god. She watched him turn away, unable to force her eyes off him until he disappeared inside the forum. Her mind locked on “the position” he’d implied. The bunny’s position? Or the position of the woman he’d shared with Max? Neither option seemed as deplorable as it should have. Or likely to happen.
    So not fair. The only man in history to reject Silver, hitting on her .
    No, mocking her. He couldn’t seriously think she’d ever . . .
    Her nipples drew into hard little points and poked through the openwork details of her lace bra. Her body wasn’t in accord with her mind. Then again, the intelligent arguments her brain came up with were weak.
    Sex in public isn’t my thing.
    Not that she knew what her “thing” was.
    Couldn’t you consider trying something new? For Max?
    She should have, but it was too late.
    Is it?
    Neither her brain nor her body had an answer. She hadn’t spoken to Max in months. Maybe she should call him and apologize for the way she’d behaved. Maybe then they could discuss . . .
    Get a grip. You have a man.
    Who was an hour late. So much for their dinner reservations.
    Heaving out a sigh, she smoothed her hands over her sides to make sure the dress hadn’t inched up to reveal more of the generous thighs Sloan had admired. Then did up her jacket. The way things were going, he might be the only one who got to see them tonight.
    Change direction of thoughts. Sloan isn’t interested in my pudgy legs. I’m trying to impress Paul. Who’ll be here . . .
    The door of the forum slid open. Her father’s secretary walked out.
    “Hi, Anne.” Oriana stepped into the pinched-nosed woman’s path. “Is Paul—?”
    Anne looked over the red rim of her spectacles and sniffed. “He’ll be along shortly. Excuse me.”
    The secretary hurried to her bus stop. Her behavior might have seemed rude to some, but it didn’t bother Oriana. Her father kept Anne busy. She had to get home to her kids.
    Never mind that she would have found time to talk if Silver stood in her place. Because Silver wouldn’t be standing here, waiting. No one kept Silver waiting for anything.
    Then again, Silver wouldn’t let them if they tried. Her little sister would have stormed into Daddy’s office after ten minutes of sitting in the limo—not standing on the curb because the limo driver wouldn’t dare tell her he had other places to be—and ranted until both the man of the hour and Daddy were tripping over each other making apologies.
    Oriana couldn’t do that.
    A couple strolled by with steaming cups of coffee. The aroma lingered in the crisp, maritime breeze, fragrant tendrils of temptation, coming from the couple as much as the cups. A little café around the corner ground their coffee beans fresh for each pot right in front of the customers. The whole place smelled so earthy and rich, the caffeinated kick struck the second the door cracked open. Still her favorite haunt before and after exams, even though Max never . . .
    Stop.
    Coffee. Coffee would be lovely. A new plan formed and she smiled.
    Maybe she couldn’t do ranting. But she could do thoughtful.
    Fifteen minutes later, cardboard tray in hand, Oriana strolled into the forum and made a beeline for the elevator. The echo of her heels on the glistening, black granite floors sounded like the tick of a giant clock. High rounded arches and marble columns gave the appearance of a cathedral; the huge black and white portraits of hockey greats like Gordie Howe, suspended from the pristine white ceiling looked