Hiring Mr. Darcy - Valerie Bowman Page 0,52

a little as if to bolster my spirits, but his next words did anything but. “I can’t believe your spineless boyfriend didn’t defend you.”

Um, yes, the same thought had crossed my mind. But I’d already jumped ahead to my next discussion with Harrison. The one we would have when we were alone. The one in which he’d explain that he couldn’t afford to make Lacey angry because our tenure and the department’s reputation depended on her. Of course, those would only sound like excuses to Jeremy, but I did the best I could. “He doesn’t want to upset her. She’s paying him.”

“Who gives a crap? You’re paying me, too, but I wouldn’t let you speak that way to my girlfriend.”

When he put it like that it made me want to cry. I swallowed hard, mentally searching for something to make me feel better. Finally, I reminded myself that it was easy for Jeremy to say because he didn’t actually have a girlfriend. That only made me feel slightly better, however. I lifted my chin. “Excuse me for a second. I need to go to the bathroom.”

Jeremy nodded, his face softened.

I turned on my heel and hurried across the room to the corridor that led to the bathroom. I needed to get myself together and give Harrison and Lacey time to leave. I couldn’t handle another encounter with them in the parking lot.

I slid inside the bathroom, leaned back against the distressed wood door, and took a deep breath. The bathroom was hip, too. Real lavender soap. Thumping music. Blood red walls. White subway-tiled floors. I splashed some water on my face and stared at myself in the mirror. What the hell had just happened out there? Harrison had seemed a little jealous that I was with Jeremy. I could tell by his expression, but Jeremy was right, Harrison should have defended me to Lacey. I could hear him now, telling me that Lacey’s comment was a disagreement between women and it wasn’t his place to get involved. Sometimes his logic and stoicism drove me crazy. It wasn’t always the best thing to be frickin’ logical.

Minutes later, I came out of the bathroom with a fake smile pasted on my face. Jeremy put his hand on the small of my back again and ushered me out of the restaurant and to his truck. He helped me up instead of allowing the valet to and he also shut the door for me. He came around to the driver’s side and took his seat.

“Hey, thanks,” I said quietly once he’d settled in.

“For what?” He pulled his seatbelt across his lap.

“For defending me back there. I really appreciate it.” Why did my voice sound so small and weak?

“You’re cute in that dress,” he said with a wink.

I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, well, that’s up for debate apparently, but regardless, what you said...it was really nice of you.”

Jeremy rested his right hand atop the steering wheel and stared into the bushes in front of the parking lot. “I still remember the time Tim Baxter was giving me hell my junior year, and you told him to shut up and mind his own business.”

I frowned. “When was that?”

“In gym class. I was trying to make some baskets and I didn’t exactly have the same height I do now. Baseball’s always been more my sport anyway.” He laughed.

“We had gym class together?” I scratched my head. Why wasn’t this coming back to me?

Jeremy turned on the ignition and put the truck in drive. “You’ve got the worst memory ever.”

“I really do,” I admitted with a sigh.

“Anyway, I owed you one.” He slowly pushed on the gas pedal and the truck eased through the parking lot. He’d remembered again. Car sick. No sudden moves.

I spent the rest of the ride back to my car at Jeremy’s house wondering what else had happened between me and a teenaged Jeremy Remington that I did not recall.

Chapter 16

Monday

I was grading papers in my tiny, fifth-floor office that had no heat in the winter and no AC in the summer. It was the type of office that non-tenured professors had to suffer. But the space was cozy and clean, and I’d made it mine by putting a nice big puffy reading chair in the corner where I usually stored an extra pair of glasses and a coffee mug. I’d splurged on a second Keurig machine for the place. I’d been trying to concentrate on reading the papers my students had just