I tried to move forward, to put space between us, because my whole body had just come alive at his touch, but my body wouldn’t obey, not when his thumb slowly brushed up my spine,like it was accidental. It wasn’t. Nothing this man did was accidental.
“What are you doing? We’re supposed to be mingling,” I hissed, keeping my smile plastered on for anyone watching because he’d effectively moved me from the cluster I’d been part of.
“I am mingling.” His voice was soft and soothing. “It just so happens, the most interesting person in the room is already standing next to me.”
My breath caught, and my head turned before I could stop it. He shifted — barely — and the distance between us closed in a way I couldn't entirely account for. His eyes were on mine, and for one brief, reckless second, we were inches apart, and the noise of the room fell away. I realized I'd tilted my face up.
“Savannah.”
My father's voice. That was all it took to break the spell, and I stepped back. Dante’s jaw clenched once, his mask snapping back into place.
I pasted on my polite smile, heart pounding, and turned toward my father before anyone saw I’d almost —almost— let myself fall.
“Savannah?”
I turned from my dad as a familiar voice spoke my name, and smiled broadly at Professor Yates. “Professor,” I greeted him warmly. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”
“Yeah, it’s really not my thing,” he admitted, looking down at his dark corduroy trousers, white shirt, and dark brown blazer. He looked more like he was ready to teach a class than be at a faculty event. I liked that even more about him. He was here on his terms, no one else’s.
“You look nice,” I assured him.
“Sav, you’re being rude,” Dante murmured beside me.
I turned to him and, seeing the dangerous glint in his eye, I couldn’t stop the frown from forming. “This is Professor Yates, he’s my... heusedto be my art professor.” I turned back to the professor. “Professor, this is—”
“Dante Spence,” the professor said with a wide, beaming smile. “Nice to meet you. I have to say, that throw to Slater on third and ten in the last two minutes of the third quarter wasexceptional.”
Oh, yay, yet another football fan for his already overinflated ego.
Both of them looked at me, one in surprise and the other with way too much amusement, and I realized I’d spoken out loud.
“Um.” Yeah, I had no defense.
“She gets cranky when I get all the attention,” Dante said with a smug grin, moving a fraction of an inch closer to me, his fingers brushing over mine. “How are you this evening, Professor?”
“Oh, call me John,” Professor —John— said. I knew I was gaping, and he saw it, a slight flush on his cheeks. “You’re a student, Savannah,” he explained almost apologetically. “Dante here is—”
“A third-year student at Wrighton, same as me,” I snapped with more emotion than I should have shown.
“I think what the good professor is trying to say, Sav, is that I’m not one ofhisstudents.”
“And neither is Savannah,” my father said, smoothly slipping into the conversation.
Dante’s glance briefly shifted to me, and I held my breath in case he called me out.
“And it is better ifallstudents avoid calling professors by their first names,” my father added.
“Agreed,” Dante said smoothly. “It’d be like me calling you Maxwell or Max, right, Dean?”
I knew they hadn’t, but I was sure everyone in the room had frozen because of his casual audacity. You simply did notjokewith the dean of Wrighton University.
I swallowed, but then my nerves took over, and I laughed. The spell of ‘I can’t believe you said that’ broke, and Professor Yates laughed too.
“Good point, Dante,” he said good-humoredly. “Sorry, Max.”
“‘Dean Cole’ works just fine,” Dad said with a cool smile as he appraised both men in front of him. “Savannah, come now, I want you to meet someone.”
“Comenow?” Dante murmured, his tone curious but commanding enough to stop my dad from walking away. “Is your daughter a pet, Dean Cole?”
