Page 7 of Teaching Roman

“I’m surprised you remember that.” Roman’s gaze searched my face, his expression entirely unreadable.

Crap. That sounded totally stalker-y. I just remembered things, especially things about Roman. Not that I should share that with him unless I wanted a restraining order taken out against me.

“She has a good memory,” Cassie said nonchalantly. “So you’re going to see your mom and dad?”

“My grandmother,” he said. “Most of the family has moved away. I’m actually the closest person she has left. The rest of us are scattered all over the globe. My sister’s in Spain.”

“It’s really nice of you to go see her,” I said in a quiet voice.

“She spoils me,” he admitted, “and the beach isn’t bad either. Do you like the water?” He turned his warm eyes on me.

I opened my mouth to answer, but Cassie jumped in. “She loves it. Maybe you could take her swimming.”

I hated the water, and I didn’t swim. Cassie knew that, and she was clearly up to something. And by something, I suspected she wanted me to hook up with our ex-prof.

“I’d like that,” Roman said. “It’s always nice to have someone to share the beach with.”

His chocolate brown eyes smoldered into mine, and I forgot to breathe. If anyone could talk me into drowning, it would be him. Just the thought of him in shorts, wading out into the waves with his shirt off, made my thighs clench together.

“I need to use the bathroom before we board,” I said, coming up with the first convenient excuse I could think of. “Back in a sec.”

Cassie nodded and returned to her conversation with Roman. I strode away, contemplating the strange turn in events. I knew Cassie was trying to play matchmaker, but was it my imagination or was Roman flirting with me? He’d asked me to go swimming. Hadn’t he? I thought of his casual comment about sharing the beach with someone. With me. Maybe he was just being friendly, but something in his eyes said he wasn’t. My body had reacted to it with a palpable desire I hadn’t felt before. It was why I’d fled to the bathroom.

We hadn’t even gotten to Mexico and I’d already found myself in trouble.

Somehow Cassie had finagledus seats in first class. I didn’t ask how, because I had a feeling it had something to do with the emergency credit card Trevor had given her a few months ago. He was always flashing his money around her, and if our roomy flight accommodations were courtesy of his screw up, I wasn’t surprised. Not that I approved of Cassie using his card for revenge, but it was nice to know I’d get some work done on the plane. Plus, we got to pre-board, which meant that I was already seated and relaxed. I even opted for some white wine when the flight attendant came around to take our cabin’s orders.

Lounging back with my glass, I watched the parade of travelers struggling with their bags while Cassie organized a stack of magazines to read in-flight. Maybe a few days in the heat won’t be so terrible after all.

Cassie leaned close to me and whispered, “So Markson is hot for you.”

“Bitch, please,” I said loudly and the woman across from us shot me a withering glare. I smiled back. Putting a girl in first class didn’t mean she had to behave.

“I suppose I don’t need to ask how you feel.” She giggled triumphantly and settled back in her seat.

No, she didn’t. Try as I might to calm myself, I’d become a bundle of nerves since we ran into him. I tapped my fingers on my tray, wishing I’d dragged Cassie away from that bar earlier. I glanced up and spotted Markson getting on board. My clit sent a distress signal at the sight of him. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and wondered if a quick bathroom masturbation break counted as joining the mile high club.

The line of people inched forward and Roman flashed me a crooked smile. “Have a safe flight.”

I grinned like a fool and nodded. The second he was out of sight I slumped against my headrest and swallowed the rest of my wine in one exasperated gulp.

“You should totally nail him. On the flight. Become a full-fledged member of the real mile-high club instead.” Cassie said as if she could read my mind.

“What?” I turned toward her, sure she was joking. “I am not nailing Roman.”

“You want to nail him.”

“I do not want to nail him,” I repeated a bit too loudly and a few heads swiveled to stare at me. The woman from early shook her head in disgust. This time, I shrank into my seat and pretended I was invisible.

Who cared if Roman Markson was on this plane? Or if he looked incredibly hot? I had bigger things to worry about. My focus needed to be on getting into med school, not men, and I'd ensured that would be the case by telling Brett “no” before we left. I'd just dumped a perfectly nice guy to focus on my own goals.

No. Now wasn’t the time for romantic entanglements. It was the sensible play. The trouble was that my body seemed to have more mutinous sentiments.

Cassie laughed and tossed me a Cosmo. “You so want to nail him. There are 200 Sex Lessons in there. Maybe you can play teacher. Did you bring a plaid skirt?”

“Remind me to kill you as soon as we land.”

“Isn’t that against the Hippocratic Oath?” she asked me as she waved the flight attendant over and ordered two more wines.

I stiffened at the joke. My friends loved to tease me about my dream profession, calling me Doctor Jess and buying me Grey’s Anatomy T-shirts. I knew that getting into med school required a lot more than saying I wanted to be a doctor and surviving a residency meant hard work and no social life. Yet another good reason to keep Roman in my fantasies and out of my bed. “I’m not a doctor yet.”

“Jess!” Cassie rolled her eyes. “For the last time, it’s not a jinx if we talk about you being a doctor. You’re going to be one. You’re right on track, but it wouldn’t kill you to let loose this week.”

It was easy enough for Cassie to say that, but she didn’t know how hard it was to get into med school—or to survive med school for that matter. Being able to earn that title was the one thing I couldn’t absolutely count on in my five-year plan and I hated that little variable.

Almost as much as I hated the near constant stress I felt. Could Cassie be right about letting go and having some fun? Would a week off from studying be all that bad?

Or was I just trying to find the excuse I needed to open a door for Roman?

“Truce?” Cassie suggested as she held up her wine glass.

I nodded and took a drink just as she added, “You still want to nail him.”