Beyond the Ivory Tower by Jill Blake Read Free Book Online Page B

way.
    Considering all the worst case scenarios that hadn’t happened, she supposed she should be grateful. But that didn’t mean she wanted to see Ethan again. Ignoring the little voice in her head that said liar, liar , she texted back:
    Busy with work. Have to stay in LA.
    Then she shut off her phone and headed for the bedroom. She squelched any residual guilt by reminding herself that they had nothing in common. If he tried texting or calling her again, she’d simply ignore him. The same way he’d ignored her emails and phone calls when she’d first attempted to contact him.
    Of course he hadn’t known her then. He probably got a ton of spam and solicitations, and her messages might have gotten lost in the shuffle—assuming they ever reached him at all. Now that they’d met, the dynamics had changed.
    But that was beside the point. She didn’t belong in his world, and he had no place in hers. Best to cut her losses before anyone got hurt. And by anyone, she meant herself. Because she really couldn’t imagine a man like Ethan Talbot getting too hung up on a woman whose IQ far exceeded her bra size.
    She toed off her sensible flats, stripped off her clothes, and climbed into the shower. Time to get back to real life.
     

CHAPTER SIX
     
     
    “You’re trending again,” Colette said, in lieu of a greeting.
    Ethan put her on speaker phone and picked up his Hefeweizen. “What now?”
    The aroma of pot roast wafted in from his parents’ kitchen and his stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten since getting off the plane earlier today. The housekeeper had offered to make him a snack, but he declined, preferring to wait until his parents arrived.
    “Some woman lambasted you on her blog,” Colette said. “It’s gone viral. Apparently you’re the devil incarnate, offering college-age kids a Faustian bargain that threatens to undermine the foundation of Western civilization. That’s a direct quote, by the way.”
    He leaned back in the recliner and took another sip of beer. “No kidding.”
    “Don’t laugh. It’s all over Facebook and Twitter, with hashtags like #StayInSchool and #NoToTalbot.”
    “Sounds like the writer had an ax to grind.” He sighed. “It wasn’t my ex-wife by chance?”
    “Not unless she changed her name to Anna Lazarev.”
    “Shit. Really?”
    “I’ll send you the link.”
    So much for a quiet evening of good food and relaxation.
    He took his time reading the article. She was eloquent, he’d give her that. But the arguments she made were also narrow-minded and elitist. Exactly the sort of garbage he’d expect from someone who had spent her entire life in the insular world of academia and as a result felt threatened by anything beyond the ivory tower.
    This was the Anna who’d stormed into his office, demanding that he discharge her sister from the Fellowship program.
    What happened to the other Anna, the warm, funny, adventurous Anna who’d laughed and teased and flirted with him less than a week ago?
    If he closed his eyes, he could still see her teetering on those ridiculous heels, still feel the imprint of her body against his, still taste the seductive heat of her mouth.
    How could she, after all that, return to L.A. and write this dreck?
    He scrolled back to the top of the page and saw something he’d failed to notice earlier. The post was dated ten days ago.
    She’d written this diatribe before they met. Most likely when she’d been pissed because he wasn’t responding to any of her emails and phone messages. He’d discovered those buried in his inbox and beneath piles of paper on his desk—after she’d left San Francisco. Reading the words post-factum, he found himself smiling at the imperious tone.
    He wasn’t smiling now. Even if her very public attack predated their weekend together, there had been enough time since for her to take the damn thing down. Or at least write another post to soften the criticism. He didn’t expect an apology. But an acknowledgment that