The First Time We Met: The Oxford Blue Series #1 by Pippa Croft Page B

‘Whatever you say.’
    ‘Please, don’t patronize me.’
    ‘I wouldn’t dream of patronizing you, Ms Cusack.’
    ‘How do you know my name?’
    He taps his nose. ‘That’s on a need-to-know basis.’
    ‘OK. If you want to play it that way, it’s fine.
You
need to know this, though: thanks for saving me from Piers, but you were wasting your time. Now, if it’s OK with you,
Mister
Hunt, I’m going home.’
    ‘You can play it any way you like with me.’ Those ice-blue eyes slam down a challenge that’s laced with provocation. ‘And, as for going home, it’s a very long way to Washington.’
    He looks so unbelievably sexy that momentarily he’s robbed me of words, but I snap to my senses. Alexander Hunt is trouble, in every single sense of the word, and I have to get away from him before I
can’t
get away from him. That built, lean frame is still blocking my way and the scent of fresh clean sweat and testosterone makes me twitch with desire.
    ‘I heard what happened over dinner last night, by the way. I hear that Rupert has finally met his match,’ he says.
    ‘I hope I never match Rupert in any respect.’
    His eyes are bright with amusement. ‘I admire a woman who can hold her own and I so rarely meet one.’
    ‘I find that hard to believe. And now … um … if it’s OK with you, I’d really appreciate it if you could let me past.’
    Static crackles in the air between us. Never mind the real fight I witnessed, we’re shadow-boxing with innuendo and the effect on me, at least, is as powerful as any aphrodisiac.
    ‘I never mind any reasonable request.’ He steps aside, his hand held out. The moment hangs in the air between us; if he asks me to stay, I won’t, because that is what this Alexander expects me to do. I’m not about to be manoeuvred or manipulated or intimidated by any guy, not even one who makes me tremble with lust.
    ‘Much obliged to you,’ I say, imitating his cut-glass accent. As I stroll past his open hand towards Immy and the girls, I have the satisfaction of glimpsing the frustration on his face, and this time it’s me who turns my back and walks away.



Chapter Five
    So much for being fresh into classes. I only had a few hours’ sleep after last night’s encounter with Alex so there was no chance of me missing my first seminar at the faculty; I was awake at six a.m. Somehow, I managed to get back to my room last night without too much interrogation from Immy. It was still pouring down so we had to run, and Freddie made a booty-call to Immy so I headed straight for my room.
    I don’t need any more drama on my first day.
    This morning we had an ice-breaker meeting with the other master’s students on my course, then it was a full-on intro to the course, punctuated by lunch. There’s a wholefoods cafe near the faculty where I grabbed a quinoa salad with some of the other grad students. Then it was back to work.
    We get three exam essays at the start of Trinity term – but as that’s not until next June I won’t start stressing about it yet. This term ‘all’ I have to worry about is two extended essays on my specialist subject.
    Whichever way you look at it, I’ve more than enough on my plate, so what do I go and do? Waste far too much time and energy trying to fathom out Alexander Hunt.
    I step out of the Faculty of Art History into the weak rays of afternoon sun shining on the facadesaround me. In contrast to the austere grandeur of the colleges, the faculty is a sixties building shoehorned into the narrow streets near the centre of town, yet it encapsulates all that I love about Oxford. Where else would you get a brand-new bar and sixties brick building next to a Victorian church and a medieval college? Even the names are like something from a novel. I mean, Penny Farthing Place?
    I grab a photo of the street name on my iPhone, wondering if I can work it in as part of a collage.
    Back at college I resist the urge to collapse on to my bed and, instead, pull on some