Make Me Over_ Getting Real - Leslie Kelly [24]
“Uh, Simone, I’m not even scheduled to conduct the first evaluation until Friday. There’s really no need for you to display your…skills.” He shook his head, seizing on what seemed to be the only logical explanation. “All of you seem to be under the mistaken impression that currying my favor is going to aid you in some way.”
“It’s not your favor I’m after,” she said, putting her hand flat on his chest and batting her heavily made-up eyes.
“I’m your teacher,” he snapped.
“I can teach you a few things.”
“Goddamn it,” he muttered, suddenly having enough of this, “have you all completely lost it?”
Simone pouted, obviously not realizing she’d pushed him too far. “Chill babe, let me help you work off some of that frustration.”
“Look,” he said, trying to maintain his calm, “you’re here to learn. To gain some polish, some social skills. Not to get laid.”
“How do you know?” she countered.
Drew merely gritted his teeth, gave her the kind of withering stare that had intimidated every obnoxious student he’d ever had, then strode past her.
He wished he could confront Mueller, but it was too late. The man had left, whirling onto his next big project, leaving the soft-voiced director, Niles Monahan, in charge. And Monahan had about as much chance of getting a dozen horny women to behave as Drew had of sprouting wings and flying out of this madhouse.
Shaking his head, he drew in a few deep breaths, trying to regain his calm, rational mood. It’d somehow deserted him in the past few days.
He should go to his room or his car—the two places where he could lock himself in, away from the cameras and the women.
But he didn’t. He headed straight for the kitchen.
T ORI HAD BEEN TRYIN’—trying—to figure out how to handle things ever since Mr. Mueller had dropped his bomb Sunday at breakfast. She’d fumed about it and even, to her mortification, cried about it, but couldn’t figure a way around the truth.
Drew was the stakes and a million smackers was the prize.
Her first instinct had been to leave. She’d tell the director she’d changed her mind and skedaddle on home. Because this silly competition stuff just made her feel…nasty.
Drew Bennett would hate bein’ some kinda prey for the women on this here show. Being she reminded herself, mindful of the way the snippy-faced English teacher had made Tori repeat the phrase ing about a half a gajillion times over the past few days.
For sure, Drew would blow a gasket when this romance competition came to light. He’d said as much before, telling her he planned to stay out of camera sight as much as possible, to keep his private life private.
She was tempted to tell him herself, only, the contract she’d signed might get her into trouble if she did. She remembered a buncha legal mumbo jumbo in there, but one thing stuck out—if any part of the so-called secrecy agreement got violated, she had to pay back every penny they’d put into her, including her airfare, her food, her education expenses and who knew what all.
Her next instinct had been to break her promise and get herself kicked out. Because she liked him too much to stay and watch what these greedy, horny women were gonna do to him.
But she wanted him too much to leave and let them do it!
There was no denying it, she wanted him for herself. Not because of any cash prize—because, while she knew for sure he was interested in her, she didn’t for one second believe a handsome, wealthy college professor was gonna go prostrating himself with love for her.
No, money didn’t factor into it. He did. It was all about Drew Bennett. His smile and his laugh and his brains. Not to mention the way he’d made her feel from the first minute she’d set eyes on him: hungry and empty and wanting and needy.
And very special.
“Special,” she whispered under her breath, feeling a little shivery when she said it.
Because he had. From the first word he’d said, the first look he’d given her, he’d made her see herself differently. Not as rough-edged Tori who’d beat up a man soon’s look at him. But as a pretty woman with a brain and a real chance