She waited for a moment, a smile playing on her lips.

Mr. Donovan: I wouldn’t put it past you, Dr. R. When the Duke was in your possession, did you at least treat him right?

Victoria: I may have dog-eared a few pages.

Mr. Donovan: My god, you’re a monster. Could I make you an offer?

Victoria: Go ahead.

Mr. Donovan: In the future, could I slip my bookmark between your pages?

Victoria: That doesn’t sound quite as naughty.

Mr. Donovan: You haven’t used my bookmark. It’s big enough to take care of any book.

Victoria paused to take a breath as she tried to figure out her next witty response. Her phone vibrated again. Paula was calling her. She groaned and answered. “What?”

“Damn, girl. What did I do?”

She sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m actually in the middle of something.”

“A meeting?”

“Not exactly,” Victoria hesitated. “I’m texting someone.”

“Reggi and I are downtown about to grab some lunch. I was going to ask if you wanted to join, but apparently you’re texting someone?”

“Is it the librarian?” Reggi’s voice asked in the background. Victoria rolled her eyes.

“Reggi wants to know if you’re too busy with the librarian to have lunch with your friends.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “I’m in the middle of sexting with him and you guys are seriously interrupting my response time.”

“Oh shit!” Reggi said.

Paula lowered her voice. “Do you need any help? I write romance for a living, you know?”

That doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Victoria pushed aside the thought. “I’m going to have to let you guys go.”

“Report back to us,” Reggi shouted.

“Maybe,” Victoria said as she hung up. When she returned to John, she hadn’t come up with anything witty so she typed the next best thing.

Victoria: Do you have condoms?

When the three dots lit up her screen, and then disappeared, Victoria closed her eyes and cursed her bluntness. Asking about condoms, though prudent, was not sexy and didn’t belong in a sexting exchange.

Three dots reappeared.

Mr. Donovan: No. But that’s not what I had in mind. Do you read poetry, Dr. R?

Victoria frowned and bit her thumbnail. Poetry?

Victoria: Of course...

Mr. Donovan: Do you like Eliot?

Victoria: I think The Waste Land is a bit overrated.

Mr. Donovan: Perhaps. I was thinking of The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Victoria: ??

Mr. Donovan: “Do I dare to eat a peach?”

Victoria, growing dizzy, released the breath she held. John was simply too clever for her to keep up with. He was going to arrive at her office any moment and she already found herself sweating over him. She waggled the collar of her shirt in an attempt to get air to her armpits.

“A man has never quoted Modernist poetry to me,” she whispered to her empty office.