Don’t Pet the Teacher

They call us the Firework Girls.

I’m Isabella. My comfort zone consists of a bank of test tubes and a Bunsen burner. But having to take a philosophy class to graduate from college—well, that’s causing a different kind of burn altogether. I mean, the hottest professor at Hartman is looking right at me.

Can you blame me for looking back?

Forbidden Heat Excerpt:

While listening to Jack’s story, I take another sip. Over the rim of my raised glass, just down the hall, I see Shane Brooks watching me.

And he’s alone.

He doesn’t seem to know I’ve spotted him, for his eyes are traveling down the length of my body, wrapped in form-fitting velvet, and back up again. He looks hungry, and slightly stunned.

I slowly lower my glass, granting him full view of my cleavage, which he lingers on for a moment before finally, slowly, meeting my eyes.

This time neither one of us look away.

One heartbeat. Two.

I lose count as the moment lingers on.

“Ah!” Jack says suddenly, snapping me out of my trance. “Here comes our brigade.”

I glance toward the Ladies room exit to see Chloe and Ashley emerge.

Jack offers me his arm and I take it automatically, my eyes darting back to Professor Brooks, who’s still watching me.

A soft ding sounds through the hall, indicating we have only two minutes remaining of the intermission.

“Fair ladies,” Jack says, putting on a grand persona, “may I escort you back to your seats?”

“Only if I can have the rest of your champagne,” Sam says, taking Jack’s glass and downing it. He smiles easily, leading us away.

Still gripping Jack’s arm, I glance back over my shoulder.

Shane Brooks is watching my every move.

*  *  *

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