Her hair was a pretty golden-brown, thick, glossy, the first thing you noticed about her—other than the flip-flops, mind you.

“Business major?” I pointed to her books.

“Gen ed. Why else would I be here if I didn’t have to take the class?”

“Stalking.” I winked. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been followed. Probably won’t be the last.”

“You clearly have too high an opinion of yourself.”

“Some may say not high enough.” I let out a low chuckle as a few girls in the front row started whispering loud enough for anyone with two ears to hear:

“So hot.”

“Three times! She said it was the best night of her life.”

Blake clenched her teeth and shot poison darts with her eyes. “Fans of yours?”

“The club has an opening.”

Blake shoved past me to make her way up the stairs to the last few empty seats. I followed her, mainly out of curiosity but also from the need to distance myself from the girls in front, who would have most likely tried to fondle me the entire class.

Last time that happened, I couldn’t even finish!

And by “finish,” I mean finish my finance class.

“They made posters last year,” I said with a sigh, plopping into the seat right next to her.

Jaw slack, she pointed at the other seats on either side of us, seats that would at least put a few empty desks in between us.

“Desks. Chairs. It’s a classroom, so that’s to be expected. Anything else I can help you with?”

“Sit in any chair but that one.”

“This one right here?” I patted my seat right between my legs and grinned shamelessly while her cheeks burned bright red. “Something on your mind, buttercup?”

“Just . . .” She dropped her book loudly onto the desk and put her bag on the floor. “Don’t talk to me.”

“Okay.”

She blinked at me, the shape of her mouth forming a small O, giving me the best possible daydream of her on her knees in front of me. I sucked my lower lip, allowing my thoughts to trail into dangerous territory. Then again, she was blushing now, blushed often, and was probably too uptight to take direction on any sort of oral activities. Pity.

Smiling, I kicked back in my seat. I did my best studying in silence . . . I didn’t need to talk to her to get to know her. Most of the important things about people were learned by simply observing.

Besides, class was starting.

The professor droned on and on about business organization and different organizational roles within a corporation.

I tuned him out, because I had my own corporation. I knew how roles worked. It was like going back to first grade after graduating with honors. But I stayed glued to my seat and studied Blake out of the corner of my eye.

Her face wasn’t bad. She had a smattering of freckles around her nose and cheeks, like someone had just dropped a few for effect right on her face when she was born. She would be cute if her hair wasn’t constantly falling over her eyes, making it impossible for me to really see what shape her face was or what color her eyes were.

With a huff, she pulled back her hair into a low ponytail.

I let out a small gasp.

Purely by accident.

“Are you going to make it?” she whispered harshly.

I leaned over, my hand grazing the back of her chair, fingertips dancing along her neck. “Are you?”

“I’m not . . . interested.”

“In men?”

“In you,” she said pointedly. “Now, stop whatever it is you’re thinking about and pay attention. I just transferred here from Boise State this semester, and I already feel like I’m behind.”

“Ohhh.” I snapped my fingers.

“What? What ‘ohhh’?”

The world suddenly made sense. “You’re from Idaho? Hit me with the town you were born in, because it sure as hell wasn’t Boise.”

She shifted in her seat, moving farther away from me as she gave me a quick sidelong glance. “Riggins.”

“Dear God, save me from small towns with only one grocery store.”

“Stop,” she hissed, “talking.”

“Okay.” I shot her a calculated half smile—just enough to make her wonder. “I got all I needed anyway.”

I could tell she wanted to ask me what the hell I was talking about, but she had impressive self-control. I’d give her that.

She was from a small town in Idaho. Transferred here . . . for what purpose? My guess was her dad. I was still banking on the single-parent thing. He got a job transfer. I racked my brain. Boeing? Possibly Microsoft? Maybe even Amazon. Hell, Seattle boasted so many different corporate headquarters, it was a toss-up.

I glanced back down at her flip-flops.

I was going to go with Microsoft. Computer-nerd dad with no fashion sense who used to work from home via satellite. Bingo!

I tried to pay attention to the lecture but kept getting distracted by the way she tapped her pen.

And the fact that she had on perfume and pink nail polish. What girl who dressed like she did wore pink nail polish and Prada perfume? Did she have that pink thong on under those basketball shorts? Now those I could definitely work with when the time came. They would look so good dangling from one ankle with her legs in the air. Parts of me twitched with interest just considering the possibilities of exploring all of her diverse . . . nuances.

A mystery.

I hadn’t had one of those in a long time.