![]() ![]() ![]() “Who would ever think to use guitar riffs in discussions of human psychology? Not me. A lanky, fortyish man extended his hand in her direction. She took a deep, shaky breath and glanced over her shoulder. ![]() Evans,” an unfamiliar voice said to her back. She clutched the handle of her laptop case, prepared to clobber whoever was dumb enough to sneak up on her. Right? Tel that to the cold sweat trickling between her br**sts. Whoever fol owed stopped several steps behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. 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? 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. ![]() 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. Wel, someone was having a good time tonight. Could this day suck a little more, please?Ī chorus of “chug, chug, chug, chug,” fol owed by enthusiastic cheers came from across the lobby near the elevators. With a loud sigh, she bent to gather the scattered papers. She’d forgotten to zip the compartment in her haste to flee the seminar room. A stack of handouts tumbled from Myrna’s laptop case to the floral-patterned carpet. ![]()
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