Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 105921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
She drew her hand away, tucking it behind her back as if restraining herself from touching again. Sounding as if she was a million miles away, she murmured, "I've never seen one in real life. What I do is lampwork, so not the same—I don't blow glass—but melting and shaping the chips of glass is one of the earliest uses of similar techniques. It's fascinating."
Something here was fascinating, but it wasn't the little Roman flask. Scarlett had been a lot of things to me in the short time I'd known her. A trespasser. A woman. A mother. Someone I'd like to get naked, though I'd barely admitted that to myself, much less to her. Since the moment she'd careened into me that morning, she'd been all of those things. She was a challenge, and ultimately, a lifeline.
Now, watching her absorb every detail of the ancient glass bottle, I wasn't quite sure what she was. So much knowledge and skill was tucked away in that head of hers.
Fascinating was exactly the right word. Not for the aryballos. For Scarlett. This woman was dangerously fascinating.
Reluctant to break the spell, I kept my voice low. "Are you an artist?"
Scarlett blinked once, twice. Her chin came up, a shield snapping down over her eyes. With a half-shrug of one shoulder, she went back to scanning the shelves of books. "Not really. I have a side gig making lampwork jewelry and some small sculptures and figurines."
"Then what's your main gig?" I had to know more.
"I'm an art history professor at Winsfield College." At my blank look, she added, "It's small. About an hour outside Boston. I also do appraisals here and there. My specialty is glass art, though I have some expertise in related areas."
"You're an art history professor?" Of all the things I might have imagined for Scarlett, college professor was not on the list. "How old are you?" Dumb question, but I'd never had a professor who looked like Scarlett.
"Thirty-three, and I'm still an Assistant Professor. Not as impressive as it sounds." Her eyes swiveled from the books to focus on me. "How old are you?"
I let my mouth curve into a smug smile, sensing my answer would annoy her. I was beginning to love the way her cheeks flushed when she was annoyed. "Thirty."
"Humph. I should have guessed."
I let that one go, too curious about Scarlett to mind her implication that I was immature. I wasn't, but something about Scarlett brought out the desire to tease and poke, to have her attention centered on me.
Okay, maybe I was a little immature. Or maybe I was just interested. No. No maybe about it. Taking in her long waves of red hair, the swell of her breasts beneath the yellow sundress, the freckles scattered everywhere—no maybe about it. I was very interested.
Hey, she was stuck here anyway. Why not have some fun?
So many reasons that was a bad idea.
I was starting not to care.
"Did you always want to be a professor?" I wanted to know more, wanted to know who she was.
Her lips curved, and she glanced at me sideways, weighing her answer. Another half-shrug as if she'd decided the information wasn't classified. "No, not really. I wanted to study glassblowing in Italy, actually, but life got in the way. It wasn't practical to study abroad, so I switched my major to art history and, eventually, took up lampwork as a hobby."
"Do you still want to learn glassblowing?"
A half-grin in my direction. "I did get around to learning, but I don't have my own studio. Lampwork is small-scale. Think a blowtorch versus a furnace. My pieces sell pretty well. I've actually been thinking about leaving the college and working on that full time, but…" Her voice faded away.
"But?" I prompted.
She straightened, turning to face me. "But it's not just me, you know? I have a mortgage and a family to provide for. The college has health insurance, and the department is small, so I have a good shot at a full professorship and maybe tenure."
"You don't like it," I guessed, watching boredom film her eyes as she explained her future prospects.
She let out a short sigh. "Not really. I like teaching classes. Most of the students are great. But the politics make me crazy, and my department head is a total ass. A creepy ass. I go back and forth. Maybe when I get my nest egg built up a little more, I can think about leaving."
Wait, she'd said she had a family. "Are you married?"
Scarlett snorted with laughter. "No. I am most definitely not married. Been there, have the divorce to show for it. Not going there again."
"Never?" I pressed.
Another snort, this one less amused. "No way in hell. If I want another person to take care of, I'll get a dog."
"Not all of us need to be taken care of."