Page 3 of Filthy Professor

She smirked. “But finals are next week. You wouldn’t have had to deal with it for very long.”

I laughed. “Students talk, Kat, and I have a reputation to protect.” My stomach growled, and I glanced back at her. “Hungry? We can grab some food and you can ask me questions for your article. I assure you I’m even more agreeable once I’ve eaten.”

Kat laughed. “Me too.”

“Class is over though, so if you must answer that text, feel free to do so. Elvis movie nights are a big deal.”

She grinned, and my breath caught. Kat shrugged. “It can wait. It was just my sister.”

There was something about this woman, and the next sentence slipped out, the desire to know burning too brightly in the back of my mind to ignore. “Ah, that makes sense. I doubt your husband or boyfriend would dare send you something like that.”

Kat pursed her lips. “Wouldn’t know. I don’t have either, but what I do have is a sense of humor, so it may have been fine.”

Smiling, I gestured toward the top of the stairs. “Shall we?”

She nodded and climbed up first, and my eyes dropped to her ass in those tight black dress pants. I scolded myself. I shouldn’t be checking her out—not so soon after my divorce, anyway—but I found myself unable to stop. She was sexy, and probably ten years too young for me. I wasn’t sure how much that mattered anymore, but I’d been out of the dating scene for a long time. Not that this was a date. It was an interview. I needed to get it together, but just watching her, I wanted her. I shook my head, realizing how ridiculous that was. After my divorce, I’d insisted I needed time.

As I climbed the last stair and stood next to her, I glanced at her. “So, there’s pretty much anything you could want. It is Chicago, after all. Anything you’re in the mood for?”

The grin came back across her face, hitting me in the gut. “You know, I could really go for some deep-dish pizza. Is Fazini’s still open?”

I smiled back. “It is.” We made our way out of the building to walk the two blocks to the famous pizza place. “So, you know Chicago?”

“Mm-hmm. I actually went to this school, at this very college.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? You must never have taken this class then.”

“Of course I did.”

I stumbled. “But I’ve been teaching here for fifteen years. Surely, I must have taught you.”

She laughed. “You flatter me, but I just miss the cutoff. I’m 35, so I took that class seventeen years ago. Back then, it was . . .”

“Professor Hodges. I had him too.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Oh, funny. But you went exploring with your degree, at least for a little while. I just write about people discovering things.”

I shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with that. And anyway, my exploring isn’t over.” I clamped my mouth shut, not meaning to reveal that information so early in the conversation.

We stopped in front of Fazini’s as she turned to me with a grin. “Is that so?”

Chapter 3

Kat

Harrison’s eyes widened as if that had been a secret. This was just the break I needed to steer it away from an article about a washed-up has-been to a comeback piece. Harrison Keeler going on another expedition—now that was something to report.

Clearing his throat, he gestured to the door. “Food first, please.”

I nodded. “Okay, but you’re not getting off that easy.”

He smirked as he opened the door, which highlighted his dimples. Damn. He just had to go being cute. His hazel eyes landed on me as he waited for me to pass through the door.

My eyes trailed down his body. Fuck, I was screwed. Not only was he a legend in the industry, but he was also incredibly hot. It had been too long since I’d been with someone, and he looked like a snack I wanted to unwrap. I entered the restaurant, shaking my head. I need to get a grip. Sure, he’s hot, a legend, and thought I was younger than my actual age, but he was also still the subject of my article. If I thought getting involved with my editor was bad, this could be way worse.

Nodding to the server, I requested the secluded booth in the back, which was miraculously unoccupied at this point. During college, it had been the place to make out where people couldn’t see you from the door. Not that I was planning on making out with him . . .

Although . . .