Of Wings and Wolves (7 page)

Summer stopped on a photo of a rainforest. It looked like a scary place for a human, but maybe not a wolf. It might be fun to chase those orange monkeys.

“After graduation,” she murmured. She had taken double the usual course load for the last two semesters so she could finish sooner. Freedom was getting so close. And a rainforest would be a lot farther away—and a lot more fun—than a ravine in her forest.

It was so loud in the server room that she didn’t even notice someone approach until they shouted. “Summer!”

It was Yolanda, teacher’s assistant and head of the Tri Delta sorority, who were having an event on the quad that morning. Even though she was a wiz with CAD, she definitely didn’t belong in the server room on a Saturday morning. “What’s up?” Summer shouted back, returning the travel magazine to the rack.

“Brian wants to talk to you,” Yolanda said.

Brian was the instructor for her algorithms class that semester. He was about a hundred years old and perpetually grumpy. “What does he want?” Summer asked, stepping off the vent and following Yolanda to the doors.

“No clue. He just sent me a text asking for me to find you.” She shrugged. “Who am I to question the master?”

Summer frowned as Yolanda held a door open for her. Brian controlled a lot of the CS students’ privileges, including access to the server room. Grumpy or not, Brian wasn’t someone she wanted to piss off. “Thanks for letting me know,” Summer said as the door fell shut behind her.

Yolanda gave her a brilliant smile. She smelled like peach body wash, lubricated latex, and beer. The sororities must have enjoyed their Friday night a lot more than Summer had. “No problem.”

Summer worried all the way to Brian’s office, imagining a thousand things she might have done wrong and how she could talk her way out of trouble for it. Most of her teachers were pretty patient with her, but Brian didn’t put up with anything from anyone.

The office was near the front of the CS building, and its frosted windows overlooked the foyer. Summer paced circles near the entrance doors, taking deep breaths and trying not to panic. Neither Abram nor Gran would have panicked.

“Feel the power of the Gran,” she said under her breath. “Be the Gran.”

Intoning her name didn’t imbue Summer with Gran’s powers, and putting off knocking on Brian’s door didn’t help, either. It only made her pulse go from “meeting a grumpy instructor” levels to “impending apocalypse” levels.

Summer swallowed down her fluttering heartbeat and knocked on the door.

A voice on the other side said, “Come in.”

She entered. Brian Flanders’s office was huge, and his chair was turned to face the back windows. It felt like she had to walk a mile to reach his desk. “What did you…?” she began, but she trailed off when she inhaled a scent that definitely did not belong to her centenarian instructor. Or any other human on the planet, for that matter.

The chair spun to face her, and Nash Adamson stood.

Nash was incognito that day. He had abandoned his usual suit for a v-neck shirt, jacket, and designer jeans, which made him look more like an extremely rich college student than a CEO. But Summer had never seen a student with such intense eyes.

The silence between them was heavy enough to crush cinder blocks. Her heart felt like it was ready to break out of her chest and sprint across campus to escape.

After a long, painful silence, she managed to say, “You’re not Brian.”
Way to blow him away with your wit, Gresham
.

He braced his hands on the desk and leaned toward her. “If I’d known you hadn’t planned on coming back, I never would have let you leave. At least you’re clothed this time, if we generously consider those scraps to be clothing.”

She looked down at herself. She had expected to spend all day with the servers, so she was only wearing a baggy t-shirt and leggings. There was a coffee stain on her breast. She pulled her hair over it. “I don’t want the internship. I was going to write you a letter.” He stalked around the desk, and she edged toward the door. “Or…send flowers?”

Summer bumped into the wall, and he planted a hand over her head. His body radiated heat, as if he was running a fever.

He bent, and Summer flinched, expecting that this was when the yelling would start. But when he spoke again, his words were gentle. “Are you all right?”

Her racing heart slowed a fraction. “Aside from the paralyzing terror? Yes.”

“Why would you be terrified?”

Her tongue tasted like parchment. She swallowed hard. “Mr. Adam—”

“Nashriel,” he interrupted. His lips twitched on the verge of a smile. “Or Nash, as you seem to prefer.”

“Right. Nash. The terror thing? Let me count the ways.” She was embarrassed by how raspy her voice sounded. “For one, you lured me into my instructor’s office under pretense. For another, you have me pinned against the wall, and you’re huge. And finally—no, you know what, those two are good enough on their own.”

He stepped back, straightened his shirt, and looked charmingly confused. “First creepy, now terrifying. I think we’ve started this relationship the wrong way.”

“We’re having a relationship?”

He frowned. “Partnership.”

“Uh,” she said. The richest man in the world wanted a partnership with a coed in a stained t-shirt. Right.

Nash’s lips pinched. He folded his hands behind his back, and seemed to think for several long moments before speaking again.

“I was fascinated to see so many computer classes on your transcripts, considering your after-school proclivities. I, for one, have never found myself comfortable with such technology, although I’ve long invested in its development.”

“Back it up,” Summer said. “What do you mean, ‘after-school proclivities’?”

“You know to what I refer,” Nash said.

Summer only had two hobbies outside of school: making Sir Lumpy go batshit crazy with the laser pointer, and rolling around in the dirt as a wolf. There was no way he could find her kitty antics interesting, which only left one option. And he couldn’t possibly know about that.

“I need to check on my midterm,” she said. “It’s compiling.”

She expected him to try to stop her. Instead, he slid a pair of large sunglasses over his striking eyes and followed. “I’ll be interested to see the project you’re working on,” Nash said, pacing her down the stairs to the foyer. She walked faster, but he kept up with her effortlessly.

“Interested? You’re kidding me,” she said. “Why are you being so pushy about this? Just about any other student at the university would be happy to take the job.”

“You have unique skills that I require.”

“Like what? You don’t even know me. The only skill you know that I have is a penchant for public displays of nudity.”

“It’s a useful skill in the public sector,” Nash said, totally straight-faced. Was he…joking? Did he actually have a sense of humor? “No, Summer, I’m familiar with your studies, and you’re the one I require. I need your unique abilities with…programming.”

Summer was a pretty solid B-grade student. She wasn’t buying it. “Where’s your entourage, anyway?”

“They have weekends off. All of my employees receive excellent benefit packages—including the interns.”

“That’s nice. I’m sure whoever you hire as an intern will be really happy to hear that,” Summer said, throwing open the back doors and stalking across the hill toward the data center. The rain had stopped, but the grass was still slick under her sandals.

“When you failed to arrive on time this morning, I came here immediately to arrange a transfer of funds. I donated three million dollars to break ground on the new computer sciences building an hour ago.”

She stopped walking. All of her good humor had suddenly gone missing in action.

“I don’t want a new building and I don’t want the job. You just—you don’t even have a fucking clue, do you? This is some weirdo come-on. I don’t know why you got it in your head that you need me, but you can’t buy me. Go bribe some other college student.”

He hooked a hand in his pocket, leaned his weight on one leg, and lifted his chin. It pulled his slacks tight against his hips, and that cocky look was simultaneously frustrating and arousing. “I don’t want just any college student to work for me. I want you to work for me.” Summer almost laughed again, until she saw how serious he looked. He slid his sunglasses down his nose and fixed her with the heat of his gaze. “I need
you
, Summer.”

It felt like the entire campus was spinning around her. That smoky voice, the heated gaze—it was hard to remember why she should find the whole situation weird and kind of insulting.

But was that a hint of vulnerability in his voice when he said that he needed her?

The maid, Margaret, had said that Nash had no family. His house smelled like he never had company beyond his staff. He had been distant from his own cocktail party, alone with his thoughts and an endless night.

Maybe Nash Adamson did need Summer, although not in the way that he thought.

“So this isn’t a come-on,” she said once she remembered how to talk. “You want a programmer. And this is just an internship—not a job—for the rest of the spring term.”

“That’s right,” he said, looking satisfied that she was finally catching on.

That’s bullshit.

Call it paranoia, but Summer wasn’t buying what he was selling. He had already invested in her—not just the creepy wardrobe of dresses, but by building an entire new building. He wanted her, and he wanted her bad. There was no way it could ever be “just an internship.”

But maybe when a man had spent his entire life alone, that was the only way he knew how to reach out for help.

She blew a stray curl out of her face. “Okay. I can be your programmer, but only for the semester, and with one condition.”

“Anything,” he said. It sounded like an invitation.

Summer grinned, knowing how disarming her smile could be. One corner of her lips lifted higher than the other, as if her mouth had been placed crookedly on her face, and it made her look less like a pretty college girl and more like an imp. “You have to buy me a coffee, first.”

six

After a lifetime of homeschooling, Summer’s
freshman orientation at MU had been a shock to the system. The idea that so many people would choose to congregate in one area was absurd, but she had adjusted after a few weeks of claustrophobia and a lot of deep breathing exercises.

Now Nash was going through the same shock. It was funny to see the richest man in the world quietly losing his shit at the crowd in the campus coffee shop, which was extra-busy thanks to midterms. The place was packed. They had to shove their way to the counter to place orders.

“Pardon me,” Nash said, looking deeply offended at a student bumping into his shoulder. Summer smothered a laugh behind her hand.

“Do you have any preference?” she asked, gesturing toward the menu board.

His lip curled. “No.”

“Two large vanilla lattes,” Summer told the barista as Nash shot evil looks at the crowd. When was the last time he had been in public without the protective barrier of his entourage? “And double shots of espresso, please.”

Five minutes of waiting later, they found a recently-vacated couch and settled in. The plush leather loveseat sank in the middle, so Summer couldn’t help but melt into Nash’s side. He didn’t seem to mind. He looked like he was probably contemplating buying the whole building so he could bulldoze it.

“I had an assistant review the internship applications again,” Nash said. “Yours wasn’t among them.”

“I told you that I didn’t want the job.”

He sipped his coffee. “Forgive me if I find that difficult to believe. The prestigious position and accompanying scholarship is impossible to resist.”

“Not for me.”

“Then what bait would be more appealing to you? Lifetime supply of coffee?”

“I do want the scholarship,” Summer said. “Just the scholarship. And I want it in cash.” Ugh, it felt so mercenary to say that out loud.

She waited for him to ask why, but he only said, “Done.”

“Great. Now tell me who I’m working for.”

Nash frowned. “You know who I am.”

“Not really. I mean, I want to
know
you. Obviously, you already know way too much about me, but I hadn’t even heard of you before the interviews.” It was impossible to read his reaction with those reflective sunglasses. “And these need to go away.” Summer plucked them off his face and tucked them in his jacket pocket.

When her eyes met his without the safety of glass between them, his stare was much more penetrating. Almost like he could read her every thought.

“I think we both already know one another better than anyone else in the world knows us,” Nash said, leaning forward to set his latte on the coffee table. When he settled back, he turned to face her, and their knees bumped. His arm was hooked on the couch behind her neck. It was an awfully cozy position for someone who was supposed to be her new boss, but Summer didn’t want him to move.

“We haven’t met before,” she said, just to reinforce the concept.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t know you.” The narrow line of his lips spread into a smirk as his bangs shaded his eyes. “You and I have something in common.”

“A sexual harassment suit waiting to happen?”

So much for that smile. “You’re a complicated woman, Summer Gresham.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” His hair was bothering her. She surprised herself by reaching up to brush it aside. As her hand fell from his forehead, she let her fingers stroke down the smooth line of his jaw.

Her eyes fixed on his lips, and Summer found herself thinking about what a terrible idea it would be to kiss him, and how much she wanted to do it anyway. They had both grown very still.

She was still staring as she asked, “Do you have a lot of fireplaces at your house?”

“A few. Why?”

“I thought I smelled smoke on your clothes.”

“What else do you smell on me?” Something about the way he phrased the question made it sound too intimate to be uttered in a public place. Summer’s cheeks heated.