Description : Backstage Pass
A stack of handouts tumbled from Myrna’s laptop case to the floral-patterned carpet. Un-freakin'-believable. She’d forgotten to zip thepartment in her haste to flee the seminar room. With a loud sigh, she bent to gather the scattered papers. Could this day suck a little more, please?
A chorus of “chug, chug, chug, chug,” fol owed by enthusiastic cheers came from across the lobby near the elevators. Wel , someone was having a good time tonight. It certainly wasn’t her.
She crammed the papers inside her bag and jerked the zipper closed before continuing through the overdone hotel lobby on her way to her sixth-floor room. A long, hot bath sounded like heaven. How had she let her associate dean talk her into presenting at this stupid conference in the first place? What a total waste of time. The other professors in her field wouldn’t know an innovative idea if it stood on its head and sang “The Star-Spangled Banner.” And why did she care what her col eagues thought of her methods anyway?
Students loved her classes. They were always ful . She had waiting lists for—
Steps echoed hers. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She paused—her heart racing, palms damp. Whoever fol owed stopped several steps behind her. She could hear him breathing.
No. It couldn’t be her ex-husband. He didn’t know how to find her. Right? Tel that to the cold sweat trickling between her br**sts. She clutched the handle of her laptop case, prepared to clobber whoever was dumb enough to sneak up on her.
“You gave a great seminar, Dr. Evans,” an unfamiliar voice said to her back.
Not Jeremy. Thank God. She took a deep, shaky breath and glanced over her shoulder. A lanky, fortyish man extended his hand in her direction....