“This is ridiculous,” I muttered under my breath, setting the bucket of cleaning supplies on the porch while I waited for my client to answer the door. Mr. Evans had assured me that they would be there first thing in the morning to let me in before giving me a key.
Please don’t be an old pervert, I willed.
The door opened and I felt a rush of warm air.
My body nearly shut down when I saw the person who opened the door. It was none other than my young English lit professor, Rick Carter. There he stood in nothing but a pair of red boxers, a sheen of perspiration on his tanned skin and his muscles bulging as if he’d been working out. My eyes took in his broad shoulders, his hard cut abs and, against my will, were drawn to his boxers, which covered what appeared to be a very sizeable bulge.
When I looked back up he was grinning.
My heart pounded in the base of my throat as he, in turn, gave me in my stupid, too tight uniform a once over. His gaze left hot trails on my skin.
He arched an eyebrow lecherously.
“So you’re my maid then?” he asked, without an ounce of recognition.
I felt my face burn with embarrassment and for the longest moment I couldn’t speak. I was struck dumb.
“I-I-” I stumbled over my words like an idiot. “I’m sorry, Professor Carter. I didn’t realize that you were the one who-”
“Wait!” he said, sharply. “You know me?”
I suppose I couldn’t blame him for not recognizing me. After all, I had my hair pulled back tightly, and had let Tess do my makeup – not to mention the outfit I was wearing. In class I always dressed for comfort – jeans and sweaters were my go to.
“I’m in your class,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “It’s me, Rebecca. Rebecca Black. We talked the other day? I’m in your advanced senior writing course.”
Recognition filled his eyes.
“Oh, Christ! Miss Black! Of course – the daydreamer. Wow!” He ran a hand through his messy brown hair with a small sheepish grin that sent my heart fluttering. “I didn’t recognize you all… I mean so h… you look different out of class.”
“The uniform is a job requirement,” I said, almost apologetically as I smoothed a hand over my hair. “And I don’t usually wear makeup.”
“Well you look… great,” he said, and pushed the door open as his eyes flicked over my body again. “I’m sorry. I should’ve recognized you. Well, come on in, you must be freezing.”
I wasn’t freezing. In fact, I felt feverish. And it only got worse as I squeezed past, bumping against his bare chest as he ushered me through the door…