Faking Ms. Right Bonus Epilogue by Claire Kingsley

Author:Claire Kingsley [Kingsley, Claire]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Always Have, LLC

The fullness of the auditorium grated on my nerves. Most of the seats were taken. Morbid curiosity had won out over my resolve to stay away. I slipped in with just moments before Corban’s talk was set to commence and took an open seat in the back.

I adjusted my glasses, then crossed my arms as I scanned the front of the room. A grad student and someone from campus IT tested the projector, and Elliott stood to the side speaking with another professor. But no sign of my nemesis.

The fact that I was internally referring to him as my nemesis was probably not a good sign. The logical part of my brain knew this.

But I’d never been very good at applying my hard-earned cache of knowledge and logic to my own circumstances.

So I remained in my seat, arms and legs crossed. The very picture of defensiveness. I’d listen to what he had to say in order to better frame a rebuttal.

Elliott stepped up to the microphone and a hush settled over the room.

“Thank you for joining us today. It’s my pleasure to introduce Corban Nash, here to discuss his popular accelerated intimacy theory. Please join me in giving him a warm welcome.”

I was mentally framing the opening paragraph of my counterargument when a man in the front row stood and replaced Elliott behind the microphone.

He had careless brown hair that stuck out at odd angles and wore black Converse with his slacks. His short-sleeved button-down shirt was partially untucked, as if he’d gotten partway through dressing himself and forgotten what he was doing.

He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “Good afternoon.”

I stared at him, pressing my lips together, willing myself to ignore the wide set of his shoulders. His trim waist. The way the muscles in his arms filled out his shirtsleeves. Were those veins in his forearms? He wasn’t bulky, but he was certainly toned and fit. Not exactly typical for someone with a background in data analytics and social psychology.

Crossing my arms tighter over my chest, I mentally reprimanded myself for noticing his physical qualities. And pointedly ignored the way my traitorous lady parts reacted to them.

Elliott had said he had a unique way of captivating an audience, and as Corban began speaking, I could see what he’d meant. Although he occasionally stumbled over his words, there was a sense of excitement in his deep voice that seemed to resonate with the crowd. He clicked through slides and I noticed many people—women in particular—leaning forward in their seats. He held their attention, their body language suggesting rapt interest.

I couldn’t help but wonder if they were interested in his talk, or in him.

Re-crossing my legs, I huffed out a breath. Yes, he had a certain charisma, and his passion for his work was clear. But that didn’t change the fact that his so-called theory was poorly researched at best, dangerous at worst.

Although my friends had mentioned, on more than one occasion, that I seemed preoccupied with Corban Nash—truthfully, they’d called me obsessed—it wasn’t due to a personal vendetta.

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