Dream of You by Lauren Gilley Page A

“Ah, shit. I’m being a creeper, aren’t I?” he said with a sigh, guilt sour on the back of his tongue. He tore what was left of his crust in half and stuffed a bite in his mouth to keep from saying anything else too damning.
                  She chuckled and shook her head, propping an arm on the table. As he watched her, some of the coy mystery dropped away. Her eyes sparkled more, her smile stayed firmly in place. She was relaxed, amused, and a little bit stunning. “No,” she assured, “just…well, you seem like you’re trying to be Mr. Cool…only…” She chewed at the inside of her lower lip, color blooming in her cheeks, almost like she was embarrassed. “Sorry, but I don’t think you’re as cool as you’re pretending to be.”
                  He reached for his beer because that was way too sobering. “Ouch.”
                  “I know!” Her blush deepened. “And I’m sorry, really. I have this thing about details.” She motioned helplessly with her hands. “And well, I try to be honest - ”
                  “And the burn continues.”
                  “ – but it’s not your fault. The cool thing would work on most girls. I’m just, well.” She was becoming a little flustered, but it was cute. “I’m not the girl who trades winks over drinks and goes home with guys.”
                  “At least not creepy, ‘Mr. Cool’ guys.”
                  She smiled again. “I’m not forbidden, sweaty, teacher/student tryst material, Coach Walker, and that applies to all my professors, even the cute ones. So please, don’t feel like a creeper.”
                  Jordan stared at her for a handful of silent seconds, studying the firm, self-assured set to her delicate jaw, the unblinking way she met his gaze. She had one of those pert, regal noses. Everything about her face was classic and he had a passing wonder if she was an artist or just one of those academics so dedicated she viewed her field as art. And she was very, very certain in her assertion that she was not “tryst material,” and not embarrassed about it in the least.
                  He had to give her credit for being blunt. And he hated to admit that, in that way, she reminded him of his sisters.
                  “Okay then.” He felt a genuine, unrestrained smile tugging at his mouth. “I will officially turn off the charm.”
                  She dipped her head in gratitude. “Thank you.”
                  “And in the interest of being honest, that guy your friend wants to set you up with? He’s married.”
                  Her brows lifted and she didn’t look disappointed.
                  “He’s my brother-in-law.”
                  “Really?” She reached for her slice of pizza again. “How’d you guys manage to fly that under the radar?”
                  Just like that, she’d chucked their awkward conversation over her shoulder and seemed to have no intention of leaving now that she’d clearly established nothing was going to happen between them.
                  He wanted to be disappointed, but stronger than that was the sense that somewhere in his cold little heart, he’d found a kernel of respect for the girl who told a guy “no” to his face and then stuck around for conversation. Like that stellar figure of hers, it wasn’t something he saw much of anymore.
    **
                  Each minute weighed a hundred pounds as they waited. For Jo, the only thing heavier was the occasional touch of Tam’s eyes as they blasted over her, loaded with accusation and denial, stress and terror. She couldn’t remember him ever looking at her this way, and as she stared at the six pregnancy test sticks on the bathroom counter, she could feel his resentment like a physical entity sitting on the edge