The Kiss Quotient (The Kiss Quotient 1)

Michael rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been a crappy friend. I’m sorry.”

“You went through all that shit.” Quan gave him an understanding smile. “First with your asshole dad and the lawsuits and then with your mom’s health. I get it. But things are better now, right? We should do stuff. Friday nights are best for me because I don’t have work or class Saturday mornings. Your ‘no one special’ can hang with mine. Let me know.” With that, Quan started his bike and pulled his helmet over his head.

After his cousin disappeared around the corner, Michael opened his car door and tossed his bag into the passenger seat. Things were a lot better now, but he wouldn’t be double-dating with Quan anytime soon, not when he was fucking a different woman every Friday night. Well, not the next three Friday nights. Those were for Stella and sex lessons. He’d never expected to have the opposite role in his Hot for Teacher fantasy, but he admitted it excited him more than he would have thought.

He knew it was messed up, but Friday night couldn’t come fast enough.

{ CHAP+ER }

7

By the time Friday night rolled around, Stella was a jittery mess. She couldn’t stop her fingers from drumming on the restaurant table as she waited for Michael to arrive. She’d arranged the appointment through the agency’s mobile app—with the state-of-the-art setup, it was as easy as booking airline tickets, but without the frequent-flier miles. They’d sent a confirmation email, but that was the only indication she’d gotten that the date was still on. She couldn’t help worrying that Michael had changed his mind.

She wished she had his cell phone number, but she figured he never gave that to his clients. It was too personal. Especially if his clients had the tendency to get obsessed.

Which was actually one of her main weaknesses, and a defining characteristic of her disorder. She didn’t know how to be semi-interested in something. She was either indifferent . . . or obsessed. And her obsessions weren’t passing things. They consumed her and became a part of her. She kept them close, wove them into her very life. Just like her work.

Going forward with Michael, she had to tread carefully. Everything about him pleased her. Not just his looks, but his patience and his kindness. He was good.

He was an obsession waiting to happen.

Hopefully, she could keep a cool head during the coming weeks. Perhaps it was for the best there were only three sessions. Once they were finished, she’d focus on someone she could actually have. Like maybe Philip James.

When Michael entered the hotel restaurant, she noticed right away. Tonight, he wore a perfectly fitted black suit over a white oxford shirt. No tie. His collar hung open, drawing attention to his Adam’s apple and the sexy base of his throat. His gaze swept over the room and landed on her.

She looked down at the menu without seeing it, horribly aware of his slow advance toward her. Keep a cool head.

“Hello, Stella.” He sat down across from her and folded his hands on the tabletop.

Her lungs drew in a slow breath, and she caught his light scent. Everything inside her turned over and sighed. With a sense of defeat, she lifted her eyes to his, counted to three, and looked away.

“Hello, Michael.”

“Are you nervous already?”

She laughed slightly. “I’ve been nervous since Saturday.”

“About that . . . Who was that on the phone when I left?”

Her lips tightened as she tried to suppress a smile. “It was my mom. Her name is Ann. She thinks you’re my boyfriend now, by the way.”

He pressed a knuckle to his grinning lips. “I see. Will that be a problem?”

“Actually, I think it’s a good thing. Now that she thinks I have a boyfriend, she should stop trying to arrange blind dates for me.”

“Ah, the mother-arranged blind date. I’m very familiar with those.”

“Does that mean you don’t have a girlfriend?” As soon as the question left her mouth, she winced. “I’m sorry. Forget I asked that.”

She had no right to inquire about his personal life, but the intense curiosity burned inside her. She wanted to know everything about him. And if he did have a girlfriend, whoever that lucky girl was, Stella hated her guts.

“No, I don’t have a girlfriend.” He said it like it should have been obvious.

Thank God.

“What kind of girls does your mother try to hook you up with?”

He rolled his eyes. “Doctors, who else? And nurses. By now, I think my mom’s tried to hook me up with the entire second-floor staff at the Palo Alto Medical Foundation.”