Ivory Tower Read Free Page A

to go home and change.”   He cupped my chin and grinned.  “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
      Putting on my best hostess face, I smiled sweetly.  “Okay, but I think I owe you a coffee.  We never got around to it last night.”
      “No, we didn’t.”  His grin turned wicked. “But I didn’t hear anyone  complain.”
      After a hasty attempt at a shower, I slipped into my cotton bathrobe and tackled the coffee, also shoving a handful of frozen waffles into the toaster oven.  I was fishing for butter and jelly in the fridge when I heard rustling behind me.  Pete had appeared, showered and dressed in last night’s clothes.  I hadn’t heard him come in from the bedroom.  He  moved like a cat—   an exceptionally big beautiful cat.  The rustling sound was his attempt to re-arrange the dean search papers we  managed to scatter all over the living room floor before we made it to the bedroom.
      “Don’t bother.” I waved a dismissive hand.  “I’ll fix it later.”
      “It’ll only take a minute.”  He continued piling papers while I set up breakfast on the counter.  We seemed to have finally hit that awkward part of the morning when neither of us knew quite what to say. 
    I watched him stack papers for a while before asking, “Say, are there any women in there?”  I didn’t remember discussing any at the meeting, but there may have been one or two hidden in there.  After all, we’d have needed at least one for EEOC purposes.  And if there weren’t any I needed to be aware of it if I was going to play the role of “token woman playing the gender card” on the committee.
      “Not sure.”  He started flicking again.  “Yes, here.  Do you want to see?”  Scooping up the papers Pete crossed to the counter and plunked down on one of my rickety bar stools.  He placed the relevant documents in front of me.  I examined the thumbnail image of a Professor Waters.  She seemed to be about my age, dressed in a smart blazer with sensible hair.  I skimmed over her qualifications—a Harvard grad with solid publications and tons of experience, specializing in organizational behavior, currently interim dean at a relatively good school. 
    “Shame we don’t hire women,” I said, passing Pete a mug of coffee, “She looks good.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Never had a woman dean in the history of the school— actually, the whole university I think.”
    “But you’re a department head.”
    “ Acting department head.” It still stung every time I said it.
    “Hmmm.”  Pete reached for a waffle and slathered it with butter and jelly while I secured Professor Waters’ bio in my satchel. 
    “What’s this?”  Pete’s attention was focused on another of my papers.
    “Candidate summary sheet.”
    “Why’s this name crossed out?” 
      “Oh, that guy.  He’s dead.  Hey, maybe if I killed off all the guys, we’d finally hire a woman.”
      Pete turned to me, barely concealing a grin.  “Wow.  If this dean search gets any more deadly, we might have to get you some protection.”  He reached into his pocket and slipped out a condom.  “What do you say we try it out and see how safe you feel?”  He tucked the foil packet between his teeth, freeing his hands to loosen my robe.
    “I thought you had to prep for class.”
    He arranged his features into an exaggerated pout and made a show of tightening the robe back around me.  When he was done, he rested both his palms against my neck.  The contact made me momentarily light-headed and I realized he was pressing against my windpipe.  Was he into those kinky sex games?  And more importantly, how would that make me feel?
    Maybe it was the lack of oxygen or simply the thrill of this man in my life all of a sudden, but I was fast losing control.  There was something about him—beautiful, sexy, dangerous … and overwhelmingly tempting.  My body protested from the inside out when he withdrew his hands, and I