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

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hips, she left, belly in full force flutter. Impossible or not,
there was something delicious in being pursued by a guy like him,
in walking away. In leaving a man slack-jawed and wanting. Her feet
patted away little white tufts all the way to her car.
     
     

Chapter Three
     
    Unbelievable !
    Elliott shook his head as she rounded the
corner and out of sight. He stabbed his hand out, her paper
clutched in it, as if to ask, “Did you see that”? But no one was
there to see him do it, let alone answer. Hell, he doubted if one
other person still haunted the building at this hour. He’d be long
gone himself if not for half a stack remaining of grading a week
behind Bernie Shope’s strict deadline.
    He’d finally gotten her out of his head and
worked. Then, poof. She’d appeared outside Shope’s door distracted
and glaring. A whole array of reactions had sung through him.
Disbelief. Elation. Then, boom, disappointment—the gut punching
kind—when she caught sight of him and stared, aghast.
    She’d completely ignored him, too. All the
while letting him hear her plan a date, every word. Was it with
whoever called her earlier? No. He’d bet money her affectionate
“babe” earlier had been fake. So, someone else then. Someone she
really wanted to see. Fine. Good. She’d shot him down. But, then,
to leave and not even give him her name?
    Unreal! Elliott snorted. That’s what he got.
He’d acted on a naïve, romantic impulse buying her those books.
Sitting down next to her in the first place was a disaster. His
people watching, turned crush, turned what, he didn’t know. He’d
actually meant to save her today? Like an idiot. Joining her should
have been the nice thing to do. The honorable thing to do. His
version of a coat over a puddle.
    Elliott shook his head skyward. The stack of
papers at his hip, shifted. If he hadn’t freaked her out before,
she certainly was now. Why hadn’t he played it cooler? Acted like
he didn’t even recognize her? Played hard to get.
    Elliott stood and instantly regretted the
sudden movement. The tower of papers leaned, wobbled. Too late, he
turned to catch reams of ungraded papers. They crashed to the
floor, scattering on impact. With them, his evening’s plans. Why
couldn’t Shope be a stickler for staples instead of paper clips?
“Shit.”
    He’d be up half the night just putting the
papers back in order.
    If he hadn’t seen such a difference in her
whenever her friend was around, he might not have developed the
dumb crush to begin with. But he had. He’d witnessed firsthand,
again and again, how her hard edges melted away. And found the
transformation far too attractive. He began looking forward to
witnessing it each week, like being in on a secret. All pretenses
receding, right there where only he seemed to witness, revealing a
vulnerable depth that whispered to him across the crowded room.
    Like a poem. No, like music. Hard, forceful,
then softer. Like really good blues. Didn’t matter now. She’d never
show her face again at The Book Exchange. Not when he might be
there. Where else could he possibly see her again anyhow?
    Michelle’s curvy shadow fell across the
floor. Had he thought everyone gone at this hour? “It looks like
you could use a drink.”
    Elliott looked up. A drink was sounding
better and better. Michelle certainly wouldn’t walk away
from him. Quite the opposite. She’d been jumping at every last
whiff of a chance for the last six months. Giving in didn’t sound
so bad after such a set down. Drinks with Shope’s niece might be
risky but his fellowship application couldn’t be on the line over
one beer, could it?
    He’d just explain to her how he couldn’t
cross any lines, that he had a career at stake. She’d
understand.
    Besides, Shope wasn’t his future’s deciding
factor. The guy wasn’t the type to give a raving review to any
assistant. In fact, Elliott had never counted on one. So, how much
damage could one beer really cause? Or