Bad Professor (An Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (12 page)

I
stamped down my feelings. Now it didn't matter if he was innocent or exactly
what Libby described. The fact was that Ford Bauer was not for me and the
sooner I let it go, the better. As painful as it was, I had to admit that
everything else had been silly fantasy on my part. I could never pursue
anything real with Ford and I had to let him go.

The
first half of class, it was easy to keep my head down. Ford lectured on writing
to a specific audience and I took diligent notes. Then he opened it up to
questions and discussions and I was forced to look up from my notebook.

"How
do we research our audience?" Michelle asked. The third-year brunette
blushed as Ford complimented her question. As he started into the answer,
Michelle watched him with a rapt smile.

So,
I wasn't the only one that was affected by Professor Bauer. My stomach boiled. When
Ford smiled at the next female student, my anger spilled over and I slammed my
binder closed.

"Everything
alright, Clarity?" Ford asked.

The
rest of the lecture hall turned to me with curious glances and my cheeks flared
bright red. "Sorry, I'm fine."

I will be
,
I promised myself.
I will get over my
disappointment
.

That
was all it was: disappointment. I wanted Ford to be my knight in shining armor.
I wanted a man with as sharp a moral compass as myself and the drive to bring
the truth to light. Now it felt as if neither of those things could be possibly
true of Ford.

I
waited until the end of class, then leapt from my seat. I climbed over students
still packing up and was almost to the end of the row when my classmate, Dan,
spilled a soda. The frothing bottle whirled around on the floor and sprayed
everyone within a two-foot radius. I turned around and edged back the way I
came.

This
time I had to wait for all the students I had trampled to exit the row in front
of me. I considered climbing down to the next row, but it was no better. When I
wanted to rush out of class, everyone decided to take their time.

Finally
I saw a clear path to the door. If I could just get outside, then Ford would
not catch me and I would not have to confront any of it for another few days. Or
ever.

Then
I saw Thomas. He was frowning at me from underneath his fringe of shaggy hair. After
my run-in with Libby, I did not need to hear him try to convince me of the
truth any more. Avoiding him meant I had to double back and go to the far
steps. Then I had to cross the lecture hall floor right in front of Ford's
desk.

"Clarity,
I was hoping I could catch you," Ford said. He stepped out from behind his
desk and stood between me and the doorway.

The
last students filtered out. Thomas took a long look at us then shook his head
in disgust and left.

"I've
got another class to get to, Professor Bauer," I said.

"Yes,
that's fine," Ford came closer and reached out to touch my arm. "I
just wanted to see how you were doing. About that story you were thinking of
pursuing ..."

I
stiffened and backed up. "I don't want to talk about that. Not with you,
of all people."

Ford
glanced over his shoulder to make sure we were alone. "Me? Please,
Clarity, I told you that it's between you and your father. I don't intend to do
any digging unless you want me to."

I
clutched my backpack.

"If
it were me, the first thing I would want to know is the truth," Ford said.
This time he caught my arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Why?
You don't suspect he did it? You don't think everyone has as flexible a
morality as you?"

"What?
What are you talking about my morality?" His dark brows furrowed together.

"You
know." I stopped before the hitch in my voice was heard.

Ford's
grip on my arm tightened and he pulled me out of the lecture hall and into the
prep room. "Why are you suddenly worried about my morality? Does this have
anything to do with that student, ah, seeing us?"

I
yanked my arm back. "That student? You mean the one you slept with when
she was a freshman?"

Ford's
eyes turned a flat gray. "What do you think I was trying to tell you at
Thanksgiving?"

"Are
you kidding me?" I screeched. "Now it's my fault because I didn't
want to discuss the most irresponsible mistake I've ever made while we helped
my father wash the dishes?"

He
flexed his jaw muscle. "I wanted you to hear the truth from me."

"Well,
now I've heard it, so I don't need to hear anything else from you."

"Clarity,"
Ford hissed. "Why don't we go upstairs where we can talk in my office? It's
more private there."

I
shook my head. "No way. You probably had sex with her up there."

My
voice was angry and loud. Ford glanced around and then checked his watch. The
next professor would be coming through at any moment and we were lucky to have
been alone so long. His eyes darted around the small prep space and then seized
on the supply closet.

"No,"
I snapped. "I'm not going to let you turn me into another one of your
student conquests."

Ford
snarled. "I'm not trying to seduce you, for god's sake, Clarity. Give me
more credit than that."

I
dodged around him and headed for the door to the lecture hall. "You don't
deserve any credit. You have to earn it."

"You're
right. More right than you know," Ford said. "Fine. I'll tell you the
truth here, no matter who comes in."

"Like
this?" I swiped a hand over my eyes. "We look like we're having a
lovers' spat."

Ford's
eyes turned a stormy blue. "Who cares what other people think. Just for a
moment, Clarity, let me talk to you as if Landsman College doesn't exist. Let
me tell you my side of the story before you condemn me."

I
crossed my arms and refused to sit in the desk chair he offered. The prep space
had four desks in two pairs and he perched on the corner of the farthest one. I
hovered near the door and fought the urge to bolt before he could say a word.

"You
were right about having to earn credit," Ford said. He scrubbed his cheek
hard and sighed. "When I was discharged from the Army, I was excited to
write any story. The idea that I was free of the strict parameters and editing
of the Army was like a shot of pure adrenaline. I chased any story I
could."

"Way
to bury the lead and try to make me empathize with you," I snapped,
"but remember, I'm taking your class and I know all your journalist
tricks. Just tell me what I need to know."

Ford
slapped an open hand against the top of the desk. "It is important,
Clarity. I haven't told more than a few people what I'm trying to tell
you."

I
squeezed my arms tighter together and wished his words hadn't sparked a flame
of hope. "Why you're here?" I guessed.

"Yes."
Ford got up and paced to me and then back to the far wall. "I chased a
really big story despite everyone's warnings. I went after the wrong people and
it cost me everything. My story wasn't enough, the truth wasn't enough, and not
only did I lose my job, but I lost my reputation and my credit. No one else
would hire me after the subjects of my expose were through with me."

Out
of the hundreds of questions overflowing in my thoughts, I asked, "So you
found a job here at Landsman College?"

"I
didn't want a professorship, but I needed a job. I needed the paycheck and it
was the only way I could feel like I hadn't completely turned my back on my
career," Ford said.

I
brushed my hair out of my eyes. "So you celebrated your good fortune by
breaking all the rules you could?"

Ford's
eyes were a painful storm. "I was angry. Despite the truth of what I had
uncovered, people with influence had chased me out and left me with nothing. Then
I came here and was surrounded by the same style of power, money, and
influence. I was bitter, self-destructive, and I drank too much. All the time. I
even had a flask I poured into my coffee."

"Your
reputation was ruined so you decided to ruin the image of professors
everywhere?"

His
shoulders slumped. "I dropped my flask in the cafeteria. When I went out
back to look for it, there was Libby. I was drunk. She threw herself at me. I
wanted the consequences more than her."

My
voice wavered but I said, "Libby brags about it being a full-blown affair.
There's a big difference between one, drunken mistake and having a
relationship."

Ford's
eyes slid to his shoes and stayed there. "I repeated the mistake. I tried
to fool myself into thinking it was more, into making it more than just a
stupid, ridiculous mistake."

"Libby
calls you her ex-boyfriend. How long did it go on?" I hated myself for
asking and it hurt that I cared.

"It
didn't. Not more than a week, and I never gave her any indication that it was
anything more than a bad idea."

My
heart ached. I was torn between believing the pain I saw in his eyes and the
heavy waves of disappointment that pushed me back.

"It
doesn't matter," I decided. "I don't care what happened between you
and Libby. That was your mistake and I don't think I should have to pay the
price for it."

Ford
grabbed both my hands. "Clarity, I promise you, I won't let it affect you.
You're right, you're totally innocent. What we have—"

"We
don't have anything." My voice was hollow.

He
shook his head and tried again. "What I meant was what we shared—"

"Nothing
happened," I said.

"Clarity,
please. You have to believe a person can change in two years. Don't you believe
people can redeem themselves?"

The
anguished question pierced me to the core. I wanted to believe that people
could redeem themselves more than anything in the world. Then I could believe
my father could someday be the man I had loved and trusted.

My
father, the dean. I took a deep breath and kept my voice steady. "It
doesn't matter what I believe. All I know is that it seems like you got close
to me, complimented me, and mentored me, just so you could get closer to my
father."

"What?
Why would I be more interested in your father than you?" Ford asked.

"You're
hoping he'll save your job, but now he can't even save himself."

The
look of shock and dismay on Ford's face was the final push I needed to walk
away. The glimmer of hope his horrified expression gave me was more than I
could take.

CHAPTER
TWELVE

Ford

I
ran up the stairs two at
a time and wished I could outrun the look in Clarity's eyes. She was upset and
there was something more than her father's mistake. A bad feeling chased me. Libby
would not stay quiet for long. The thing that slowed me down, dragged me down
with every step, was the guilt over what I had done.

I
charged up the steps and did not pause for breath on the landing. A sharp turn
and another flight of stairs, and the sound of student laughter faded away. I
was almost to my office floor when I heard heavy footsteps above me.

Florence
Macken rounded the corner on her way down and I skidded to a stop. I stumbled
backward on the next landing and grabbed the railing for support.

"Professor
Bauer, just the man I was hoping to catch," she said.

My
department head stood over me, three steps up, and made no move to join me on
the landing. She settled her hands on her hips and smirked at me from above.

"I
imagine you've heard that rumors have come to light around Landsman
campus," Macken said. "That means changes that have been stymied for
some time will be going ahead soon."

I
braced myself against the railing. "Rumors. Let me guess, there was a
student report made this morning," I said.

I
couldn't blame Libby for beating me to it. She knew her leverage was not going
to last long. Though I was surprised she went ahead before even making a
specific demand of me.

Then
my stomach sank. If Libby had lodged a complaint against me, it meant she had
confronted Clarity. When Clarity did not believe her or bend to her blackmail
threats, Libby had no choice but to go ahead and make the complaint against me.

"Student
complaint?" Macken asked. "This morning?" Her faced smoothed
into a superior mask. "Of course, I'm surprised that it what you want to
discuss first."

I
paused and listened for a moment. Macken prided herself on knowing everything
first, so it was not hard to believe she would bluff. "I'm assuming
nothing can happen until it comes before the Honor Council," I hedged. "So,
really, there is nothing to discuss until that happens. You wouldn't step
outside of protocol, would you?"

"Honor
Council," she muttered. Macken let her fists slip off her hips and crossed
them over her formidable stomach. "You're just trying to distract me with
some student drivel, Professor Bauer. Not everyone on campus is as interested
in the personal lives of the students as you are."

She
didn't know. Libby had not yet filed a complaint against me for our
inappropriate relationship. When the weight did not lift from my shoulders, I
knew it was time for me to declare the mistake myself. Luckily, I did not have
to discuss it with Florence Macken.

"Sorry,
I won't waste your time anymore," I said. I climbed a step upwards, but my
department head refused to move.

A
reptilian smile curved the corners of her mouth. "You can't tell me you
don't already know. You haven't heard?"

"I'm
sorry, I don't know what you're talking about. I was teaching this
morning," I said. When her smile did not fade but stretched farther, the
knots in my stomach returned.

"Your
friend, Dean Dunkirk, got some bad news while you were rambling on to your
students in class," Macken said. She unclenched one arm to toss a hand
around in the air. "The Dean of Students has been suspended as of ten
o'clock this morning."

My
confusion was genuine. It was impossible to imagine Clarity got up this
morning, turned her father in to the college administrators and then calmly
attended my class. No one else knew about the doctored application unless the
dean had confessed to his other friends at Thanksgiving.

I
thought over the day, forced myself to ignore the bright spots of Clarity's
smiles, and assured myself Dean Dunkirk had not had time to tell anyone else
about his mistake.

"Why
would Dean Dunkirk be suspended?" I asked. "Please tell me Landsman
College is not going on a witch hunt."

Mackey
shook her head, her smile still in place. "Turns out we don't need a witch
hunt," she said. "With your friend the dean out of the way, our
department budget will go to review. Landsman College is anxious to conduct
business better than usual, so it seems department cuts will be made sooner
rather than later. Separate the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. Seems the
Dean has managed to kick start that process instead of save you from it."

I
scowled up at her and climbed the steps that separated us. "Why do you
think I would ask Dean Dunkirk to help me?"

"You
need it," Macken said flatly. "Why else would you go out of your way
to befriend the dean? I know you were invited to his house for Thanksgiving. Must
have been quite a cozy little celebration with him and your star student."

I
swallowed hard. The only other explanation that Macken would think of was my
interest in Clarity. I had to steer her in the other direction. "So what
if I made friends with an administrator? I would think that would be
encouraged."

"Not
if he turns out to be a disgrace," Macken crowed.

"Is
he okay? What was he accused of? Is Dean Dunkirk still on campus?"

My
department head raised an eyebrow. "Concerned for your friend? I wouldn't
be. If I were you, I wouldn't go near Patrick Dunkirk with a ten foot
pole."

"What
has he been accused of?" I asked again. "Clearly the evidence is not
all in if he was only suspended."

Mackey
snorted. "They've got evidence against him. Speaking of evidence, turns
out your buddy falsified evidence himself. He did a big favor for the football
team by letting the star running back off lightly."

I
spun on my heel and charged down the stairs to find Clarity's father. If
something had happened, I wanted to hear it from a reliable source. I walked to
Dean Dunkirk's office so fast that I was out of breath by the time I made it to
his door.

A
sign was taped over his name plate stating that the Dean of Students was
temporarily unavailable and that all inquiries needed to be made through the
office of the president.

I
checked my watch and jogged off campus to the house he shared with Clarity. Luckily
she was still in her second class of the day and there was no other evidence of
visitors. I peeked in the garage window and noted the dean's car inside. He
normally walked everywhere, but I doubted he was still on campus.

"Dean
Dunkirk, Patrick, open up!" I rapped hard on the front door.

A
curtain shifted in the living room but there was silence.

"Patrick,
it's Ford; we need to talk," I called and knocked again.

It
was no surprise that he did not want to see anyone. I could imagine him pacing
up and down the length of the living room, trying to prepare a way to tell his
daughter what happened.

"Ford?"
a cautious voice at the door called.

"I
just heard,” I said. "I wanted to make sure you're okay. Clarity is still
in class. She didn't know anything about it when I talked to her earlier
today."

The
door opened a small fraction and the dean waved me inside. I stepped into the
foyer and was surprised by the transformation. The Thanksgiving decorations had
been meticulously packed away in a plastic bin that now stood next to the front
staircase. The curtains had been drawn over the door's stained glass, but also
along the entire front of the house.

We
stood in shadows and the dean said nothing. He plodded over to the decorations
and shut the lid.

"They
must have blindsided you in your office. Thank god you live nearby. I can't
imagine weathering something like this while being stuck on campus," I
said.

"It
doesn't matter where I am," Clarity's father said, "I'm disgraced. No
one is going to hire a Dean of Students that was caught falsifying evidence and
brushing plagiarism under the rug."

"Is
that really what happened? Did you really make a ruling based on what was best
for the football team?" I asked.

Patrick
backed away and shook a hand at me. "No, no. I can't talk to you about
this. You're the editor of the school newspaper and, clearly, I don't know who
I should trust, otherwise this wouldn't have happened."

I
shook my head. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't made an enemy. Now,
let me see if I can guess what happened. You thought you recently made a
friend. Then that friend asked you for a favor."

"Ford,
stop," Patrick said. "As much as I want to believe you are trying to
help me, you are probably the last person I should be talking to about
this."

"You
refused to do the favor because it was against your moral judgment," I
said.

Patrick
shook his head, walked to his leather sofa, and collapsed. "How am I
supposed to tell Clarity any of this?" he asked.

"You
didn't do anything," I said.

Patrick
ran both hands through his red hair and looked up at me. "Please don't sound
so sure. I've made a mistake."

"It's
not a mistake when you were set up. Am I right? Someone is using leverage to
force a favor from you." I sat down on the chair across from him.

Patrick
leaned back and slumped into the sofa. He heaved an unsteady sigh, then said,
"I thought I had made a good impression on one of our largest donors. Everything
was fine and I didn't think anything of it, not even when he gave me some
ridiculously expensive gifts. It's the holiday season, I was hopeful. Turns out
that was very naive."

"That
happens to good people," I said.

"Well,
I'm not sure a good person would do what I did next," Patrick said. "He
asked me to look over an application, give his son some pointers. I didn't
think anything of it, until he became very specific about the feedback he
wanted. In the end, I was basically rewriting the applicant's essay. Then he
asked me to overlook his test scores."

"But
you refused." I knew it had to be true. "That's what you should be
focused on now. You did the right thing, didn't you?"

"I
refused to finish a second draft of the essay. I advised him there was nothing
to be done with the test scores, they had to be included. Next thing I know,
the president of the college is in my desk chair when I arrive this morning. I
am suspended without pay as they review the evidence against me."

I
leaned forward and balanced my forearms on my knees. "That's what I don't
understand. How did this donor know about this plagiarism case? It's like he
had it lined up to be used as leverage whenever he needed."

Patrick
covered his face with his hands and groaned. "I should have seen it
coming. God, why did I think everything was fine? Now I've screwed everything
up."

"Whatever
it is, you didn't do it. Did you?" I asked.

"That's
not going to matter. It looks like I did," Patrick said.

I
slapped the coffee table. "Come on, we can fight this. Just tell me what
kind of leverage this donor thinks he has and we'll figure out a way to take it
apart. If we expose what he was trying to do, then you'll be proven
innocent."

Patrick
sat up a few inches. "It's an old plagiarism case. It was higher priority
just because it had to do with a football player during the season last
year."

"Who
was the student?" I asked.

"Brian
Tailor."

It
was my turn to slump back in my chair. The name set off too many alarm bells in
my head, but somehow Clarity's father had revived his hope.

He
sat up and scrubbed a hand over his chin. "You think that we could expose
what Michael Tailor is trying to do and save my job?"

The
words were sluggish in my mouth. It was too late to tell the dean anything but
the truth. I didn't want him or his daughter to get hurt any farther. "No.
There's no way. He obviously had this planned and he wouldn't have gone ahead
if he thought you could get free of it."

Patrick's
face fell. He dropped his head to his hands and tangled his fingers in his red
hair again. "I don't understand how I got caught up in this in the first
place. There were no signs of plagiarism, Brian Tailor is a good student. I
didn't even think about him being on the football team. Everyone thinks the
coach and the administration might have pressured me, but there wasn't anything
wrong. From what I thought I saw, Brian Tailor was innocent."

I
stood up. "I'm sorry, Patrick," I said. "There's nothing you can
do at this point. There's nothing I can do to help you."

"But
you, you said—"

"I
didn't know who we were up against. Trust me. I've come up against people like
Michael Tailor before and it ruined my career." My arms felt heavy as I reached
down to pat Clarity's father on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, but anything you
do now is only going to make things worse."