That Sexy Professor Look

By Lotte Larsen

Ellis is a concierge who can find the perfect fix for a client but can't articulate his fantasies.
An unusually sensual eyewear catalogue tempts Ellis to buy a pair of tortoiseshell frames and adopt the model's sexy professor look. His boss Tamara loves the look as does his new client, the flamboyant old fashion designer Mr K.
So why does Mr K's photographer Cowan hate Ellis on sight? And why have they started teasing each other behind Mr K's back? Is Cowan attracted or playing games?
Ellis must find out even if it risks their careers—and his heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lotte Larsen
• Release date: Jan 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310071263

Lotte Larsen

Lotte Larsen is a Swedish-Canadian who lives in Toronto, Ontario. She hopes you have as much fun reading her smutty little pulps as she has writing them.

Book preview

2MANROMANCE

THAT SEXY PROFESSOR LOOK

Lotte Larsen

Copyright © Lotte Larsen, 2015

Cover design copyright © Lotte Larsen, 2015

This cover was designed using Gimp 2.8

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Table of Contents

Prologue

One: The Assignment

Two: Entourage and Client

Three: Bathurst Street

Four: The University

Five: Mixed Signals

Six: Giving Orders

Seven: Blackout

Eight: Analysis

Nine: Marble Halls

Ten: Ravine

Eleven: Breakdown

Twelve: Galleries

Thirteen: The Meeting

Fourteen: Games

Fifteen: Anxiety

Sixteen: Satisfaction

Men seldom make passes,

At girls who wear glasses.

—Dorothy Parker

Prologue

The twenty-something purple-haired clerk at the optical store was unnaturally happy to see Ellis.

You have to try these frames from ReSpecs, she gushed as she hurried past him to one of the wall displays.

Ellis stayed beside the desk, his prescription in hand. I usually get contacts.

But they're perfect for you. She returned with several pairs and motioned for Ellis to sit.

He took a step back. I'm not use to such a hard sell. Maybe I should come back when your boss Samantha is in. He hoped reminding her she had a boss would calm her down.

The clerk's brown eyes blinked at him slowly behind her metallic orange frames. What? Oh. She slapped a glossy magazine onto the desk. See?

Ellis looked down and thought: Oh la la. The forty-something male model stood in an old fashioned library, holding—no, caressing—a large leather-bound book. There was a bust of Keats and a black stone raven on the shelf behind him. Slim black suit, white shirt, loose striped tie, unruly black hair and stubble. Poet, scholar, English professor? Whatever he was suppose to be, the sultry expression on his face and his intense blue eyes staring up through the heavy tortoiseshell glasses made the image far more than a medium for selling frames.

Isn't he to die for? I've been drooling over him since the catalogue came in.

Ellis nodded slowly as he turned the pages. The other photos were also infused with eroticism, like each was the first in a series where the male and female models ended up naked, dishevelled and thoroughly satisfied. No photo credits. He turned back to the professor. There's something about this model's face . . .

It's heart-shaped, the same as yours.

Eliot looked up.

The clerk was holding out a pair of thick plastic frames. Please?

Um, I'm gay.

I don't care. It's too perfect. You have to try them.

He sighed and slipped on the purple and brown tortoiseshell frames. Glanced in the mirror. Not purple.

Try the sage and coffee. No, not with your eyes. The obsidian and rust? No. Last one. Chocolate and pewter Yes. Those.

Ellis had to admit the mottled dark brown tortoiseshell shot with translucent storm grey worked best with his pale blond hair and hazel eyes. The frames were rectangular and slightly curved, masculine without being too heavy. These were not the geek glasses he'd hated in high school. He looked professional. Dignified. Seductive . . .

He caught himself posing in the mirror and scowled. This will cost more than contacts.

Her expression was laden with scepticism. Do you enjoy touching your eyeballs?

She had a point. Fine. I'll get them. He tapped the desk. And I want a copy of the catalogue.

No problemo.

One: The Assignment

Ellis breezed through the glass door of Spotlight Concierge and greeted Pete behind the reception desk.

Pete's eyes got big. Good morning, handsome. Someone has found a fashion designer boyfriend. Congrats.

Ellis shook his head and pushed the new glasses up on his nose. The brown and grey plastic frames were a visual distraction and felt strange on his face. He'd get use to them but right now he wanted his contacts. No such luck. I dressed myself today.

Pete frowned and lowered his voice. Job interview?

No. Vanity. Steel grey suit, cream dress shirt, pale yellow silk tie; if he was emulating the catalogue model who was to know? A polo shirt and jeans didn't work with the glasses.

I should think not. Keep dressing like that you won't be single for long.

I live in eternal hope. Is Tamara in?

Pete made that horrible face Ellis had learned to dread from the Bad Time.

Ellis leaned over the desk and hissed: She hasn't taken Randal back, has she?

God forbid. No. It's a client but I don't know which one. It happened after hours and she hasn't logged it yet.

Ellis' stomach sank as he mentally reviewed his outstanding client requests. What had he missed? I've got everything covered, I think . . .

Famous last words.

Ellis grabbed for Pete who rolled back in his chair. One of these days you'll be drafted into working with the clients and then you'll regret that attitude.

Never. I made Tamara write it into my contract. One of the benefits of having lawyers in the family.

Go ahead; rub it in. But Ellis smiled when he said it.

Tamara appeared beside Ellis' desk half an hour later. She was sipping an extra large coffee instead of her usual frightening dark green smoothie. There were bags under her eyes but she hadn't bothered with make-up and her long chestnut hair was bundled up in a fluffy gold scrunchie. A scrunchie? Ellis shuddered discretely. Tamara was normally coifed and poised like she ran a fashion house instead of a concierge service. This was bad. But the hungry way she stared at him was worse.

Ellis settled for a neutral nod. Good morning, boss.

Love the new look, Ellis. Come to my office.

Ellis followed Tamara through the small office, totally confused. His clients were all taken care of so what had he done wrong? He shut the door behind them and sat on the edge of a slingbacked visitor's chair.

Tamara leaned against her desk and slurped her coffee. Really love the look.

Ellis shifted uncomfortably. Thanks.

Mr Albert Kipling was going to be our biggest account of the year. We were going to earn a tidy profit and all get bonuses. Instead, the company will fold and I will go to jail because I will kill that old fucking queen if I need to spend another moment in his presence. He makes me feel stupid, ugly, worthless and incompetent. He's like Randal in purple paisley, thirty years older and British. She shook her head. We should book him into Fawlty Towers and let John Cleese deal with him.

I thought Garth was working on the account.

Tamara's eyes lowered until only a blue gleam was visible between her eyelashes. Garth had a bit of a meltdown yesterday and is taking some time off. Mr Kipling does not like Garth. Garth does not meet Mr Kipling's narrow standards of male beauty and, worse yet, he's straight. You, however, our wealthy client will love, love, love. You will keep Mr Kipling happy, I will not go to jail and all will be right in the world.

Ellis tensed. What do you mean by love? Is this man going to touch me?

No. He will admire you from afar as a rare and beautiful creature.

Right. What about my other work? Liz and Autumn won't be back until next week.

Tamara waved her hand. Don't worry your pretty head about that.

Ellis gave in and slumped back in the chair. Could you please not make it sound like I'm a prostitute, boss?

I could but it's more stress relieving this way.

Do I have a choice in this assignment?

No. None at all. And you're not allowed to call in sick or quit.

Ellis scowled. There are labour laws, you know.

Pull this off, Ellis, and you'll get five times your normal bonus share.

That was the same split as Tamara. The fee she was charging Kipling had to be punitive. And yet . . . Five times nothing it still nothing, boss.

She ignored him. Garth has already hired the transportation and the wardrobe flunky. I'll tell Mr Kipling to expect you at the Continental at nine-thirty.

It was almost nine now but the hotel was a block away. What is it I'm doing for him?