The 101 on Love - Paperback

“Whoa,” he cautions in a deep, throaty voice. His hand goes to my arm to steady me. His touch is strong.

“S—sorry,” I stammer as I glance up at his face, seeing nothing but another blurry blob. In a quick motion, I put my glasses back on. My vision sharpens as I blink. Wow. He’s easy on the eyes in a visceral, GI Joe way. I take in his prominent brow and even features, my gaze sliding over his chiseled jaw that’s dotted with a fine layer of stubble. His dark blond hair is messy in a reckless way. He’s wearing a white sleeveless shirt that highlights not only his impressive torso but also his cut biceps. Geez Louise, this guy is fit. As I lift my eyes to his, I’m startled by the dart of heat that zips through me. Swallowing the dryness in my throat, I become aware of his size in comparison to mine. He’s so rugged and masculine that I question if he’s real. Oh, yeah. He’s real. So very real!

“You okay?” he asks, an amused smile tugging at a corner of his lips.

“I’m fine,” I say tersely. He’s still holding my arm. Heat from his fingers seeps into my skin, making me feel even more attraction, which quickly turns to humiliation.

His smile widens, revealing a neat row of white teeth. “You sure? You look a little dazed.”

I can tell from his cocky expression that he’s getting a kick out of me ogling him. Good grief. What in the tarnation is wrong with me? I’m acting like I’m sixteen. I’m Blakely Kathryn Donelson, a professor of psychology. I don’t gawk at men, regardless of how well formed their muscles are. “I’m fine.” I take a step back. My wretched glasses are fogging up—AGAIN! Rather than making a production of taking them off, I lift them up from my nose to get some air flowing. It helps a smidgen. Feeling the guy’s gaze on me, I do what comes most naturally when I get into a jam. I slip into my practical, know-it-all persona. “If you’re on your way to get a workout, don’t bother.”

He tips his head in amusement. “Oh?”

“The gym is closed for some boneheaded MMA fighter who’s too good to workout with the other passengers. Wait until I tell my brother that one of his heroes—” I make air quotes “—is some grandiose celebrity who suffers from an entitlement complex.”

A low chuckle sounds in his throat. “Is that right?” He gives me an appraising look that does strange things to my insides. “That was a mouthful.” His voice has the fascinating combination of being both lyrical and strong with a hint of tough-guy gravelly. He tips his head. “So, your brother is a fan of this fighter?”

I bunch my brows. “Evidently. I thought he and his wife came on the cruise to help me, but on the plane ride over I learned that Jasper came to watch the fight.” Why am I spilling my guts to a complete stranger? Probably because I’m desperate for company. Shame on Skeet and Jasper for going off together in their cabin and leaving me to fend for myself.

“Can’t blame a guy for that,” he shrugs.

“You’d better believe I can,” I fire back. “Fighting is so Neanderthal,” I shudder. “Why can’t people be civilized?”

He flashes me a boyish grin. “Ah, now,” he drawls. “Don’t be too hard on your brother. Fighting is how men set things right with the universe.” He pumps his fist before lifting it in the air as his voice vibrates with exaggerated gusto. “It’s how we establish our place in the world.”

A giggle tickles my throat. I try to swallow it down, but it escapes, nevertheless.

He wags a finger as a grin slides over his mouth. “See, you know I’m right.”

“Just because I’m amused doesn’t mean I agree with you.”

“Okay, I hear you,” he says in an easy tone. Curiosity lights his eyes. “So, Miss Philosophical, what do you do to set the universe straight?”

“I teach college psychology,” I say with a note of pride.

He raises an eyebrow as his voice takes on a musing quality. “I wasn’t far from the mark. You are Miss Philosophical,” he teases. He touches his chin and turns sideways. “Let’s see how intuitive you are. Take an assessment of me. Am I a lover or a fighter?”