Free Talk Dirty To Me by Inez Kelley, Ginny Glass Page A

over burgers and coffee, wondering what sexual twist he could titillate her with next?

    A teardrop hit her thigh. She swiped a vicious hand across her wet cheeks. No, she was not going to cry over that asshole. He was cruel and petty and…God, it hurt. How could he do this to her? Was everything a lie? The notes, the sweet kisses, the conversations, were they lies? Her watery gaze fell to the lone rose in a cheap bud vase on her kitchen table. Was that a lie?

    She needed to move, to do something. There was no way she could concentrate on her paper today. There was no way she could calmly and logically write about sex and the modern educated woman. What a joke. He’d made a fool of her and she’d allowed it.

    Determination fueled her and she spent hours cleaning her tiny apartment from ceiling to floor, including weeding through her closet and drawers, a task she despised. Her brain bounced in her skull, tumbling from one emotion to the next. Lysol, bleach and Pine-Sol worked to leave her apartment sparkling, but Nora still felt tarnished.

    Bits of conversations blurred in her mind, blending, weaving, mixing until her head pounded. Logic said walk away—no, run away—as fast as she could, with her tail tucked between her legs. Legs she’d spread for a seductive voice on the phone. Legs that trembled in anticipation as she wondered if Jarod was going to kiss her on the pathway. Legs that had deliberately brushed his last night beneath the table.

    The rose mocked her. She snatched it from the vase and threw it in the trash. Hot tears leaked over her lashes and she succumbed, curling into a knot of humiliated shame. She should have known. There had been enough signs. Jarod taught English Literature, studied the Romantic Classics, of course he would know all about James Joyce’s letters. That right there should have been her first flaming clue upside the head. Of course she’d gotten turned on when he growled at that student. That was the same voice that dirty-talked her to orgasm at night. Why hadn’t she recognized it then?

    The truth turned her tears bitter. She didn’t recognize the signs because she didn’t want to. She’d felt desired and pretty and wanted by two men. Two men who didn’t exist. The sweet-natured Jarod who had delighted her heart was a cruel liar. Spicy, wicked James was nothing but a figment of his twisted imagination. She’d been suckered. The linoleum under her cheek was scented with cool pine but she smelled only deceit.

    Jarod-as-James was right all along. She was never broken. But she was now. At least her heart was.




    MONDAY 7:45 a.m. 


    Will request extension and collect new interviews.

    I hate this damn paper.

    Called off sick from work.

    I can’t face him. 



    Jarod paced, the sharp morning air knifing through his jacket and stinging his eyes. Where is she? If he waited in the parking lot much longer, he was going to be late for his first Monday morning class. Nora hadn’t answered her phone yesterday. He’d called four different times before finally giving up around midnight. He’d left her a voicemail, as Jarod, but she hadn’t returned his call. She didn’t answer when he called at James’s allotted time either.

    Damn his pinched ego. Why had he told her he was busy Sunday? He’d done nothing but sit around the house feeling sorry for himself.

    Ankar Salih whipped his pretentious little sports car into his assigned slot and climbed from the vehicle with a bounce. He nodded politely toward Jarod then clicked his automatic lock. Jarod didn’t think twice before he sprung.

    “Dr. Salih!” He sprinted across the gravel. “I’m looking for Nora MacGregor. What time does she usually come in?”

    Small dark eyes squinted as a frown tugged his mouth. “Why?”

    “We went to dinner Saturday and I couldn’t reach her yesterday. I thought I’d try to catch her before her first class.”

    There was no policy forbidding faculty from dating but a