Sunshine In The Morning (Spring-Summer Romance Book 1) by Alex Greenville Page A

turned in. The date stunk. I’d rather have spent time with you. A mixture of elation and misgiving had washed over him, forming a damp sweat on his brow. Being honest with himself, he liked that she’d missed him because that’s what her admission amounted to. At the same time, it’d been easier if she’d hadn’t. He wouldn’t have had to fight with his conscience again.
    We have tomorrow, he’d said, and set his phone aside. We. When had the two of them become more than a professor and his student? When had they become “we”? Because thinking of her made him reconsider himself, who he was as a son, a teacher, a man. She made him better, mentally and physically, and despite the red flags waving in his head, he wasn’t ready to trade that in to be just Professor Kai again. That felt awfully empty, like a shell of who he’d been.
    He drifted asleep and dreamed about her, but was unable to remember the essence of it the next day. She texted midafternoon, saying when she’d arrive, and he replied with a simple okay. He tried to keep his anticipation to a minimum, but between struggling into his suit, failing to properly knot his tie, and a last minute search for matching socks, he was way tenser than he wanted to be.
    The doorbell rang with his arm in one coat sleeve, his hair in disarray, and a parade of clothing strewn from one end of the house to the other. “Coming,” he called. He kicked his things into the spare room, shutting the door. Then, shifting his shoulders to settle his coat, he strode to the foyer, inhaled, and answered it.
    At the sight of her, his heartbeat stopped. “You … look beautiful.”
    “You like it?” She made a quick twirl. The filmy blue fabric clung to every curve, a scoop neckline just low enough to tease the eyes, the smooth drape of it over her hip displaying her narrow waist and the length of her legs.
    “Like it? I love it.”
    She came to a halt facing him. She’d pinned her hair up, showing the length of her neck, and dusted her shoulders with some sort of sparkly powder. “Here,” she said. “Let me in, and I’ll fix your tie.”
    He reversed at her gentle tap, and she pushed inward, elbowing the door shut behind her.
    “Chin up …” Taking hold of his tie, she unwound the mess he’d made and correctly fastened it, tightening it to his neck. The fabric gripped in her palm, she smoothed his collar.
    “Where’d you learn to do that?” he asked.
    She smiled. “I’m a fount of secrets. Just think what else you might learn hanging around me.” Her gaze changed, and she reached for his hand. “It’s hurting you?”
    The press and tug of her fingers was its own special bliss. She knew exactly how to ease the pain. “It was. I think I did too much yesterday, but to be honest, I hate feeling trapped by it.”
    “You’re not trapped,” she replied, “and if you don’t feel like driving tonight, then I will. In fact, I insist. I am your personal chauffer.”
    His smile returned. “The loveliest one I’ve ever had.”
    Quiet crept between them, tranquility that brought them closer. Her hand on his chest, his fingers laid lightly on her shoulder, neither one made any attempt to move. And his thoughts spun again, that as easy and relaxed as things between them were, he shouldn’t feel anything at all. He shouldn’t want her here, shouldn’t hate thinking about when she’d leave.
    “I guess … we should go.”
    Her gentle voice broke into his reverie and he blinked, awakening himself. “We should. I wouldn’t want to be late for my own award.”
    Lydia stepped in reverse, her heels clicking on the tile. “I hope you’ve prepared your speech. ‘I’d like to thank the Academy …’” She motioned one hand outward in a model-like way.
    He chuckled and dug his keys from his pocket. Reopening the front door, he escorted her outside and onto the walk … entranced by the sway of her hips, the rhythmic swing of her arms, the twist of a single curl