Our Little Secret Read online

  I had nothing to lose. “I just, well, you willingly teach about finances and business management?”

  He laughed. “I don’t just teach it. I have a doctorate in finance.”

  That surprised me. “You do?”

  His sexy smile was making me think things I had no business thinking. “I do. Why is that hard to believe?”

  “For starters, you’re awful young.”

  “I’m not so young. I worked hard. I didn’t take a gap year or any of that stuff. I focused. I had a goal and I hit it.”

  I nodded. He was driven. “I bet you have a real thing for math.”

  “It’s not the math that gets me,” he said. “It’s figuring out the problem. It’s about making something grow.”

  “Gardeners make things grow,” I teased.

  “I can’t buy a yacht with a tomato,” he answered easily.

  I laughed. “Good point.”

  “You don’t like business?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “I don’t not like it. I just find it to be boring.”

  “Boring?” he asked with feigned shock. “How can you not love solving a problem that only you can see the answer to?”

  I wasn’t sure if it was a rhetorical question. “Uh, I don’t know. I don’t see the excitement of money.”

  “You’re an art teacher,” he said, as if it was a bad thing.

  “I am.”

  “Are you an artist as well?” he asked.

  I took a drink before laughing. “You say that like it tastes bad on your tongue.”

  His eyes flashed. “Not at all. You just don’t look like an art teacher.”

  “What does an art teacher look like?” I asked with amusement. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

  His eyes raked over my body. I felt like he was actually touching me. It was unnerving. The damn jeans were so tight I was certain he could see the goosebumps that had popped up under his gaze. The sheer sleeves weren’t exactly providing a lot of coverage either.

  He looked past me and nodded. “Like that.”

  I turned to see what he decided I should look like. I smiled and turned back to him. “She’s pushing seventy,” I said.

  “She’s an art teacher, right?”

  I nodded. “She teaches art history.”

  “Called it,” he said with a satisfied smile.

  I raised an eyebrow as I sipped my drink. “Do you think you look like a business and finance professor?” I asked coyly.

  He flashed a grin. “I’m not trying to look like a professor.”

  “What are you trying to look like?”

  “Success,” he said with another cocky grin.

  It was my turn to give him a very thorough onceover. “I think you look like a CEO of a Fortune 500 company. Are you?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  “Is that your goal?”

  “To be a CEO?”

  I nodded. “You said you are dressing for success. What does success look like to you?”

  He paused. “I enjoy teaching,” he said. “I like the idea of teaching others how to be CEOs and successful business owners. That isn’t my dream. I don’t want to be stuck behind a desk. I don’t want to deal with other people trying to take me down. I love business and I love dabbling in investing, but I have no interest in making it my life’s work.”

  “You have a passion for teaching,” I said with a smile.

  “Does that surprise you?”

  I shook my head. “No, but can I ask you another question? It might be personal. If you don’t want to answer, no pressure.”

  “I’m a Virgo,” he said with a laugh. “I’m six-three and weigh about two-hundred pounds. I’m single. Never been married and no kids. Does that answer your question and any follow-ups you might have?”

  I burst into laughter. “Uh, not the questions I had, but thanks. Don’t expect me to return the favor.”

  “You’re single?” he asked.

  He was flirting with me. I suspected he had more than one or two drinks in him. “I’m single.”

  “Divorced?”

  “Never married and, before you ask, no kids. Can I ask my question now?”

  He shrugged. “I think we’ve got all the important stuff out of the way. Hit me with it.”

  “Why the suits?” I asked. I hoped it wasn’t blunt, but it was a valid question. At least I thought it was.

  He touched his hand to his jacket. “Because you dress for success. You dress like you are the CEO of a big company. You have to put it out there.”

  “Are you referring to the universe?” I teased.

  “I am, I suppose. I thought you artsy types were into the metaphysical stuff?”

  “Uh, that’s pretty stereotypical.”

  “You’re going to tell me you didn’t expect me to be different than what I am?” he asked.

  “As in?”

  “You didn’t think I taught finance. I bet you thought I was a lawyer.”

  I grimaced and gave a little nod. “I suppose I was thinking lawyer or doctor. But I really was leaning toward the CEO type teaching a class here and there.”

  “I guess we are both guilty of making assumptions.”

  “Okay, so tell me why you’re in my building again?” I asked.

  “Your building?” he teased. “I missed your name on the door.”

  “Funny. Are you trying to see how us artsy people live?”

  “I’m just a little lazy,” he said. “Nothing nefarious. Plus, it’s much quieter in your building. I swear the tapping on the keyboards of a hundred laptops can sound like a gong. I don’t hear paintbrushes or pencils scratching over paper. It’s quiet. Clean. A little stinky, but I like the vibe.”

  I laughed again. He had a very dry sense of humor. I liked it. “We try to cut down the stink, but there are days when the chemicals will sneak up on you.”

  “Maybe that’s why I’ve always gotten the impression the art people were a little off,” he said. “You’re all over there inhaling paint thinner.”

  “Are you saying you think I’m a little off?”

  He leaned close. “I haven’t decided yet,” he said in a low voice. “I’m still evaluating the situation.”

  More goosebumps spread over my skin. Why in the world was I so attracted to this man? He was nothing like I imagined he would be and nothing like the type of man I was usually drawn to. In fact, he was the complete opposite of what I thought I liked.

  6

  Lukas

  She was funny and gorgeous and proving I was wrong about everything I thought about art teachers. If someone would have told me I would be this attracted to art, I would have laughed in their faces. Now, I wanted to know all about it. I wanted to know what made her tick, and clearly, art was the key to her soul.

  “Can we sit down?” I asked. It was a bold move. Asking her to sit was essentially asking her to give me her full attention.

  “Yes, please, these heels are not my usual thing,” she said.

  “They look good on you,” I said.

  The flirting came naturally. Usually when I saw a beautiful woman, I struggled a bit because beauty didn’t mean personality. She was gorgeous and I liked talking to her.

  “Thank you,” she said as we moved to the area set up with about fifteen tables. “The cost of beauty means sore feet.”

  “I’ll grab us another drink,” I said once she was seated. I was hoping she wouldn’t run away on sore feet.

  “Thank you,” she said with a smile.

  I quickly got us two more drinks and was on my way back when Brad appeared out of nowhere. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m taking River a drink,” I answered.

  “Who’s that?”

  “The art teacher that shot you down,” I said with a great deal of satisfaction.

  “I didn’t really try,” he scoffed. “I knew you were into her. I was just breaking the ice for you.”

  “Yeah, sure, if you’ll excuse me, she�
��s waiting.”

  “I told you this was going to be fun,” he said as I walked away.

  I handed her the drink and sat down. “So do you just teach art, like, what it is and who did what?” I asked her.

  “I teach painting basics, an advanced painting class, and drawing,” she answered.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but do you teach what you know from experience or what you have learned from a book?”

  Her eyes flashed with laughter. “You are very blunt.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “You didn’t offend me,” she said before sipping her drink. I couldn’t help but be drawn to her lips wrapped around the straw. “I think you have asked a very valid question. I’m actually glad you did ask it. Yes, I have personal experience. I love painting.”

  “Are you an artist?”

  “Anyone can be called an artist,” she said.

  “Is your work on display anywhere? Like a museum or in a gallery?”

  “Oh, you think an artist is only someone if they have prestige,” she said with a smile.

  “No, I mean, I think I’m sticking my foot in my mouth in a big way. I know nothing about art. Absolutely nothing.”

  “I’m kidding,” she said with a laugh. “I like watching you squirm.”

  “I’m glad I could entertain you,” I said.

  “I think I can call myself an artist,” she finally said. “I paint. That’s my passion. I don’t have anything in a gallery. Honestly, I’ve never tried. I like painting for myself. I like the way I feel when I’m painting. I don’t think I’m quite in the realm of the greats. It’s something I love to do.”

  “I know little about art,” I prefaced. “Is your art the stuff you have to stare at for fifteen minutes to understand it?”

  “There are many types of art,” she said. “My favorite is something called impressionism. Monet and Renoir are famous in the art world for impressionism.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve heard of the names, but I couldn’t tell you anything more. What is impressionism?”

  I knew of the Mona Lisa. That was the extent of my art knowledge. I had never actually cared, but I enjoyed listening to her talk about art. I could tell by her body language and the way her eyes lit up that she enjoyed talking about art as well.

  “It is basically an image or scene that is slightly blurred,” she explained. “You know what you are looking at, but the lines are muddied. The colors flow. It’s all about using colors that bleed and swell and create a beautiful picture.”

  “I guess I’m going to have to see this art,” I said. “It sounds interesting. Is this something you’ve always enjoyed or one of those things you stumbled into?”

  “I have always loved art and creating,” she said. “It was more than a passing fancy. I got an art easel for Christmas when I was three. I don’t think I ever stopped painting.”

  “And drawing?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “It pays the bills teaching doesn’t. It’s not my passion but I am good at it. I do side jobs here and there. Illustrating and stuff like that.”

  “Interesting.” I nodded.

  She laughed. “You’re just saying that.”

  “No, I’m serious. I wish I would have paid more attention in school. Then we could have a real conversation about art.”

  “What about you?” she asked. “What are your hobbies? What do you wake up thinking about?”

  I knew what I was going to go to bed thinking about tonight. “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not sure I have that same kind of passion for anything. I think my first thought is about what I’m going to do for the day. Then I think about the stock market.”

  She laughed. “Are you one of those day traders?”

  “Not really,” I said. “I like to do my own investing, and after a lot of research, I might do a little stock shopping.”

  “Because you want to get rich quick or because you like the game?” she asked.

  She already knew me well. “I like the game. I get an adrenaline rush when I make a good buy.”

  “Why?” she asked. “What’s the rush?”

  I thought about my answer. “I see a stock I’m interested in. Then I do my research into the company. I guess you could say I do my due diligence. I see it as a test. If the stock does well, I win. I know I’ve still got it.”

  “If it tanks?” she asked.

  I laughed. “Then I fail. I believe in learning from my mistakes. I do more research and try to figure out where I went wrong. I’ve been called anal retentive before.”

  Her sweet laughter rang out. “Let me guess, your buddy said that?”

  “Yes. He thinks I’m a stick in the mud.”

  “A stick in the mud,” she said with a laugh. “You look so footloose and fancy free.”

  “I think you’re insulting me,” I joked.

  “Not at all.”

  “Are you a free spirit?” I asked.

  “Like do I dance naked in the forest under a full moon?” she said with a sexy smile.

  That was about the last image I needed in my head. I could see her with her head back, arms spread, and full breasts bared in the moonlight. I cleared my throat. “If that’s your thing, sure.”

  “You’re stereotyping me because of the artist thing, aren’t you?”

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to. Talking to you makes me think you are very laidback. You have a quality about you that is very calming.”

  “Did you just call me boring?” she teased.

  “You have a funny way of reading between lines that aren’t there,” I quipped.

  She used the straw to stir her drink. “I’m a stick in the mud, too.”

  “You are?”

  “Yep. I did not want to come to this thing tonight. My friend insisted I come.”

  “Why didn’t you want to come?” I asked.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Hanging out with a bunch of teachers didn’t really appeal to me.”

  “You’re a teacher,” I reminded her.

  “I know and I’m not exciting.” She laughed. “Parties or mixers or whatever you want to call them are not my cup of tea.”

  “What would you rather be doing?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Painting in my pajamas with some music playing with a little wine.”

  That was another image I was adding to the little file I was mentally creating about her. “I have a confession,” I said.

  “Uh oh,” she groaned. “You are married.”

  “Definitely not. Brad had to practically drag me here. This isn’t what I would normally consider fun.”

  She looked around the room. “I don’t know if anyone here thought this was going to be a good time.”

  “Why do you think they all came?” I asked.

  “Why did you come?” she countered.

  “Because I never do and I didn’t want the rest of the faculty thinking I wasn’t sociable,” I said. I wasn’t going to tell her it was because I was hoping to make connections. I needed some of the tenured professors to give me their approval when it was my turn to take a run at it. “Now, your turn. Why did you come?”

  “Same reason,” she said with a sigh. “I’m one of the younger professors. I want the rest of them to know I take this seriously. I’m not just playing professor. I barely know anyone here. I guess that’s why I didn’t recognize you.”

  “And here we are,” I said and held up my drink.

  She held up her glass as well. “You know, there’s a karaoke station set up and being ignored.”

  “Probably for good reason.” I laughed. “I don’t think anyone here would be here if they had a chance at a music career.”

  “But we are here and we’ve got drinks, so why not make the best of this night?”

  “Are you actually suggesting you want to do karaoke?” I asked.

  “Why don’t I get you another drink and you might not be so reluctant?” she said.

  I shook my h
ead. “I don’t think so.”

  She got to her feet and tapped my hand. “Sit tight. I’ll get us another round. Don’t run away on me.”

  “Not a chance,” I said.

  I watched her walk away, as in I really watched every little sway of her hips as she moved. I checked out her ass and I didn’t try to hide it. No one was paying attention to me. We had extricated ourselves from the bulk of the group that had divided up into three distinct groups. It wasn’t hard to spot the singles crowed. Then there were the married couples all hovering together. Then there were the tenured folks. I didn’t know half of them, but the way they carried themselves revealed their power. Tenure was power. I wanted that same power. I wanted to know I had a job no matter what.

  She returned a few minutes later and handed me a glass. “The dude that runs the karaoke is going to be here in a couple of minutes. I hope you’re ready.”

  “I don’t know that I could ever be ready for karaoke.”

  We sipped our drinks and watched people for a bit. “He’s here!” she exclaimed.

  The man turned on the lights for the makeshift stage in the corner. He grabbed the mic and announced he was open for business. Part of me thought she would back out.

  “Gonna do it?” I asked.

  She moved her straw out of the way and gulped down the drink. She slammed the empty glass on the table and got to her feet. “I would say hold my beer, but I guess you can hold my glass.”

  She marched right up to the karaoke guy. She talked to him for a few seconds before grabbing the microphone and stepping on stage.

  This was going to be good.

  7

  River

  Oh goodness, I had a buzz. A damn good buzz. I swayed back and forth and waited for the singing part to start. I looked over at Lukas and saw him smiling at me. I could not believe I was about to sing in front of a bunch of strangers. Actually, strangers would be easier. I wouldn’t have to look them in the eye again. I would be seeing these folks again.

  But who cared? I was going to party one night and one night only. The alcohol made me feel free. I could let my hair down. My song choice was one of my faves to sing at the top of my lungs when no one was around. I felt like I had a pretty good handle on it. I didn’t even really need the teleprompter.