Impossible To Resist (BWWM Romance Book 1)(63)

He shrugged a little. “Well, he came back from his skiing weekend on Sunday and found Waldo on the wall and lost it. I’ve never heard him so mad. He was ready to call the police and file a report, he was sure his print had been stolen. He called me up, and several of our other friends, and was just sure he’d been robbed.

“It was so hard to keep a straight face while he was so angry. We tried to tell him that it wasn’t worth calling the police over because it was just a print, not an original, and you’d have thought we’d just shot a puppy. He was so appalled with us. One of our friends started calling it The Precious, after the ring in Tolkien’s stories.

“Anyway, none of us said anything and he finally found the picture, though it took him two days. He didn’t speak to us for a couple of weeks after that, but he also didn’t go on and on about Bev anymore either, so it worked out well.”

She laughed with him and shook her head. “I can’t believe you did something like that!” she scolded him in a joking way.

He shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t always a college professor. There were younger, wilder days, you know.”

She nodded and turned herself back around, stretching her legs out before her. It had gotten warm in the car and she maneuvered to peel her coat off, revealing the form-fitting sweater dress she was wearing. It was a light lavender cashmere that made no secret of the shapes it covered, but at the same time, offered no direct view of her skin, except where the hem laid just above her knees. She knew that it looked good on her, and she had chosen it specifically for the trip, though she felt a little guilty about it, but not enough to leave the sweater dress at home.

Connor glanced over at her as she arched her back, pulling her coat off, and he sucked in his breath quietly as his eyes drifted to the soft material hugging her breasts and her legs. He turned his head sharply and looked out of the front windshield, gripping the steering wheel tightly with both hands. It was too late though, tightness and heat pulled at his stomach and his groin, and he looked out of the driver’s side window trying to focus on anything that might get her body off of his mind.

He was quiet, trying to concentrate on the road when she turned to look at him, her eyes seeming to pick up a hint of the lavender color she was wearing. “You might have been mischievous back in your college days, but I think you’ve settled down since then,” she said with a smile at him.

She wondered why he looked so uncomfortable and she offered to turn the heat down in the car. He nodded and pulled his own coat off, making her hold her breath and bite down on her lower lip as she saw the collared sweater that he was wearing; it clung to his solid torso like a lover. She let her eyes travel along the lines of his chest, shoulders, and arms before turning her face away from him and trying to still the butterflies that danced in her stomach.

He gave a half-smile. “Well, I wouldn’t call it mischievous; I think that’s being a bit generous. It was more like scandalous, but at least I graduated with enough credibility that I was able to work for a while in the field and then go back and teach what I had learned.”

She nodded. “I’m glad you did. I’ve learned so much from you, and I learn more every time you start talking about photojournalism, so it’s good that you did what you did, because it’s enabling me to do what I do.”

He shrugged. “You could have learned all of it from another photojournalism teacher if I hadn’t been there.”

She shook her head. “No, I learned a lot more than just technique from you, Connor. I’ve had the opportunity to meet a lot of other photojournalists over my time in school, and there isn’t anyone else I would rather have had teaching me, than you. You’re the best, plus you’re my favorite teacher and my advisor, so I’m glad and grateful that you did what you did to get where you are.”

He felt his cheeks warm slightly and he turned toward her for a moment, smiling. “That’s really sweet, Cat, thank you.” He spoke softly, using the nickname that her friends called her. It was rare that he used it, in fact, he only used it in moments of closeness between the two of them, which had become increasingly often.

She smiled and looked back out of the window, and then frowned and blinked. “Oh my gosh, is that snow?” she asked, looking at the countless flurry of white specks around the outside of the car. The flakes had seemed to come out of nowhere, and what was nothing more than a cloudy sky had suddenly and almost instantly become a thick cloud of snowflakes all around them.

He sat up straight in his seat and looked out around them carefully. “Yeah, that’s a snowstorm. I checked the weather. The weatherman said there was a twenty percent chance of light snowfall.”

“Twenty percent?” she asked skeptically as she stared at the flakes that were getting fatter and heavier all around them.

“Well, you know… weathermen are paid whether they are right or not. He could have said any number and we’d still be driving through this.” He pursed his lips and peered at the thickening flurries around them. “I’m sure we’ll just pass through it.” He dropped his speed down a little for safety.

They drove on through the snow which only got heavier, coating the road and hiding the landscape around them. Connor had to drive slower and slower, and by the time they reached the hotel, they were exhausted. The roads had been closed behind them, and it seemed impossible that they had made it as far as they had.