a job as a mime.
“What?” asked Jill, cocking an overplucked eyebrow.
Darn it all anyway. Jill was forcing Robin to talk. She’d failed in front of Professor Geller’s class, but she refused to now. Refused to end this day feeling like more of a loser than she already did. Robin sucked in a shaky breath.
“Would you like some more cof-cof-cof…” Her mouth kept moving, stumbling and stuttering over the word, as though somebody else were speaking. These moments were sheer hell—there was nothing Robin could do to stop the stuttering momentum except to clamp shut her mouth, which she did, pressing her lips together so hard they hurt.
In the following silence, Robin realized her feet were shuffling, as though desperate to walk, run, escape this situation, but no way she’d let Jill see her run away again from a humiliating situation. As Robin’s feet shuffled, her soul shook loose all the feelings she’d managed to suppress—humiliation, hurt, disappointment.
In her fantasy, she’d eloquently say things to Jill that she’d pass on to the other students. How Robin wasn’t just some shy, awkward stutterer…how she had dreams and goals…that Robin Lee was more than just a quitter. Instinctively, Robin opened her free hand and extended her fingers wide as though reaching for all the dreams just out of her reach, all the things she wanted out of life….
But the look of pity on Jill’s face stopped Robin cold. She’d already faced a sea of such looks today in class, and no way was she going to look at one more.
Closing her free hand into a fist, Robin sloshed some coffee into a cup and turned away in frustration, not wanting Jill to see the pain on Robin’s face that said more than a thousand words.
“Poor thing,” Jill whispered to her male companion.
Robin headed toward the other booth where the guy sat by himself, not wanting to hear anything else Jill had to say. But Robin would’ve had to be deaf to not hear Jill whisper loudly, “No wonder Robin never had a boyfriend—after all, what would they talk about?”
Robin squeaked her way to the other booth, wrestling an onslaught of emotions. Just because Robin didn’t wear body-molding clothes and shellac her face with makeup didn’t mean she didn’t have what it took to grab a guy’s attention. Heading toward the man sitting solo in his booth, intently reading some papers, she decided to show Jill that Robin Lee, the tongue-tied wonder, had more heat, more va-va-voom than a hundred Jills could ever hope to have. Let Jill tell that to the other students!
To help matters along, Robin undid the top two buttons of her rayon dress. Reaching his table, she leaned over—way over—and heaving a sultry sigh, she aimed the pot to pour coffee into his cup.
“Is that decaf?” he asked absently, not raising his gaze from his papers.
Robin looked at him through the steam rising from the angled pot. Funny, he did sort of look like Johnny…but not really. Johnny had always greeted people with a dazzling smile and a glint in his eye—as a kid, she’d thought he’d absorbed more than his share of sunshine. This guy, on the other hand, had a dark, guarded demeanor, although his brooding, angular looks made her tummy do small flip-flops.
He looked up. “Decaf?” he repeated.
She shrugged, unsure what pot she’d grabbed. She leaned over a little farther, determined to get his mind off decaf and on to a debuttoned view of cleavage.
“Because regular makes me jittery,” he continued, his words slowing as his gaze dropped. He puffed out a breath when he caught the glimpse of cleavage. His gaze shot back up, his mouth cocking in a halfway grin that made her jittery.
She held the pot midair. Dottie would’ve probably said, “It’s decaf,” not caring if it was or not, and left it at that. But Robin was a stickler for the truth and she hadn’t the vaguest what she’d just poured. Besides, her hand holding the pot was shaking so hard, if she didn’t set this coffee down soon, she was going to slosh this stuff all over the place, getting the guy really hot, and not in the way she wanted!
From the corner of her eye, she saw Jill staring at her, mouthing something to her boyfriend. Probably stuff like, “That’s the girl who couldn’t talk in front of class today—couldn’t deal with the pressure and stormed out!” The girl who couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t…
Suddenly, Robin wanted to do one thing successfully. One thing to prove to herself—and nosy Jill—that Robin Lee could do something. That she could compete with the best of ’em. Even compete with Jill in the hunky male department! A moment ago, Robin had simply wanted to flash some va-va-voom. Now she wanted to do more…a lot more….
And Robin knew exactly what she’d do to prove herself! When Al had called her “hot stuff,” he’d been teasing her. Well, she’d show him and Jill just how much “hot” there was in this package of “hot stuff.”
She slammed the coffeepot on another table, never taking her eyes off Mr. Decaf. Behind his glasses, his eyes widened. Robin inched one knee onto the red upholstered seat, close to his jean-clad thigh, never breaking eye contact. Pressing her torso forward in the way she’d seen Elizabeth Hurley do in a movie, Robin pulled the rubber band out of her ponytail, then ruffled her fingers through her fine, straight hair. For maximizing boob effect, she took in a lung-bursting breath.
It worked. Those cool blue eyes now flickered with hot flames. The guy looked down, then quickly back up, his glasses sliding slightly down the bridge of his straight-lined, nostril-flared nose.
He frowned. “Uh, do I know you—?”
He was going to blow it for her! If Jill heard him asking Robin who she was, that would ruin everything!
In a rush of movement, Robin leaned down and planted her lips on his to stifle anything else he might blurt. As she held her mouth against his, she fumbled for the table to keep her balance…and slid her fingers into something gooey. Out of the corner of her eye, she realized her fingers had merged with the guy’s half-eaten piece of apple pie. Darn it all anyway. She’d have to spring for the pie, and here she was trying to save enough to get her car out of hock. She was debating what to wipe her fingers on when he groaned.
Groaned?
Or maybe he was yelling for help. She pressed her mouth harder against his and, with her non-apple-dipped hand, gripped his chin to hold him in place. The muscles in his jaw bunched, then loosened under her massaging fingertips. Good, she was taming the wild beast….
The wild beast who was molding his lips to hers and teasing the underside of her top lip with his tongue….
Holy cow, this guy was kissing her back! Robin’s mind started going into overdrive, panicking that she’d ambush kissed some late-night-diner psycho, but a sane corner of her brain reminded her that she couldn’t fail now. Couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t.Relax, keep kissing, let Jill see you being the wildest beastess this side of the Rockies. She’ll tell everyone at school and the rumors will shift from dropout Robin to hot-stuff Robin.
Better check that Jill is still looking.
Robin slid her mouth off the man’s, replacing her lips with her apple-gooed fingers in case he tried to say anything. She nuzzled his earlobe while sneaking a peek over his shoulder. Jill was sitting ramrod straight, staring at them, openmouthed.
Yes! Robin, the Love Goddess, rules!
“Oooo!”
