Page 40 of Unbound Boxset

Her tone reflected pure ice. “I don’t approve of gossip.”

White teeth flashed as he grinned. “Not gossip if it’s the truth. Something tells me you teach…English.”

She pursed her lips. “Poetry. I have to go.” She walked straight through the door and assumed he’d follow. Thank God he did. She locked the door and jingled her keys in her hand. “Let me know about the wall.”

“Sure. Have fun with the ladies.”

Julianna hated his correct assumption. So, she lied. “I’ll have fun on my date.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Hmm. Mrs. Cutter said you always have lunch with the girls on Tuesday afternoon. 1:00 p.m. At The Black Pearl.”

Temper made her turn on her heel. She glared at him behind tinted lenses. “Well, she’s wrong. What else did Mrs. Cutter tell you about me?”

He obviously enjoyed her annoyance. He took his time and uncapped the bottle of water. Removed his ball cap. Then dumped the water over his head.

Julianna’s breath caught. Her body slammed into overdrive at the raw sexual scene before her. Water dripped from his thick blond hair and ran down his face. Over a carved jaw. Slid and dampened perfectly cut lips.

His T-shirt soaked up the liquid and clung to his chest like a women’s night gone wild. Hunger hit hard and deep as she followed the trail down to his belt buckle, where droplets slid under the denim and hid beyond. Her pussy grew tight and uncomfortable. And as wet as that bottle of water. Her mouth fell open like a guppy. She snapped it shut and struggled to look unaffected.

His outright laugh called her an outright liar. He shook out his hair like a dog in heat, then slid the baseball cap back on his head.

“She said you haven’t been on a date in months. Said you like to go to lunch, attend the historical meetings, teach your classes, and stay boarded up in the Cliff House.” He paused and his gaze raked over her, probed under her clothes, and noted her body that refused to be ignored. “A shame, really. Something tells me you play as hard as you work. If you’d give someone the chance, that is.”

Their gazes met and locked. Seconds ticked by and neither of them wanted to lose. Julianna told herself time was the only factor that made her finally turn away. “I don’t have time to play games, Mr. Wolfe. I’m sure you’re a man who’s a master, and you wouldn’t have much fun with an amateur.”

“Jack,” he said softly. “And you’re wrong.”

She ignored him and hurried down the pathway. Absolutely ridiculous. She was living a D. H. Lawrence novel and she’d always been an Austen sort of girl. Her frikkin gardener, for God’s sake. It didn’t get any more cliché than that. And there was one thing she hated more than anything.

Being a cliché.

She pushed away the thought and drove away.