Bad Professor (An Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (18 page)

"You
want the good news or the bad news?" Clarity asked.

"Bad
news first. Always," I sighed.

Clarity
waved me over to the computer. "Well, the article is gone from both your
department website and the student newspaper website."

"So
there's good news?"

She
squeezed the hand I laid on her shoulder. "There's a social media storm. All
the students are in an uproar about something being removed from the student
newspaper website. There's a mounting protest about corruption and
censorship."

I
brushed aside her soft, red curls and kissed the side of her neck. "I'd
say that's the best news I've heard all day, but I think this might be
better." I left a trail of warm kisses down to wear the large tee-shirt
collar hung loosely over her shoulder.

"Thank
god the Landsman students are getting involved," Clarity said, doing her
best to resist my lips. "Maybe they can take it from here and we can skip
town for a few days."

I
melted behind her. In one simple comment, Clarity had just voiced the hope I
hadn't allowed myself. She wanted to spend more time with me, just me. It
wasn't the excitement of the expose or the convenience of hiding out at my
apartment: Clarity was actually interested in me.

I
knelt on the floor beside the desk chair and slipped an arm around her waist. "I've
been thinking about your road trip idea—"

A
heavy-handed knock on my apartment door interrupted us.

"Should
we pretend we're not home?" Clarity whispered. Her eyes took on a
mischievous emerald glint. "Or pretend we didn't hear. We can sneak back
to bed and try to be quiet."

Clarity's
lips were irresistible and I drank in ,a delicious kiss before the loud rapping
sounded again. This time my phone rang in conjunction with the knocking and
voices in the hallway heard it too.

"Why
do you look so worried?" Clarity caught my face in between both her smooth
hands.

I
thought about the man on the phone, but didn't want to panic her. "It's
nothing. We expected all of this." I picked up my phone and showed her the
caller ID. “It's the president of the college, I'd better answer," I said.

Clarity
zipped her fingers across her lips and promised to be quiet so I put the phone
on speaker and answered it.

"Professor
Bauer, I'm assuming you know exactly what this call is about," the
president began.

"Seems
you have a student uprising on your hands," I said. "They seem to be
upset about proof of administrative corruption, oh, and this whole censoring
the student newspaper thing."

The
president's voice turned icy. "This is a courtesy call, Bauer. Campus
security guards have been sent to pick you up. I thought it would look better
for you and for Landsman if the police didn't pick you up this morning. The
guards will discreetly escort you to the police station."

Clarity's
mouth dropped open and she flapped her hands in panic but I waved her quiet. "What
if discreetly doesn't work for me?" I asked.

"You
need to start making some serious career choices here, Bauer," the
president said. "I'm trying to help you."

"You
should be helping Dean Dunkirk," I pointed out.

The
president ignored me. "The head of our campus security assures me they are
outside your door at this moment. They know you are at home. Do yourself a
favor and let them take you into the station. It won't be so quiet if the
police need to come."

"I've
got nothing to hide," I said. "In fact, I think you are the one that
should reconsider. This makes it seem like Landsman College has something to
hide."

"This
has nothing to do with Landsman College," the president snapped. "You
are being charged with libel by a private citizen."

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

Clarity

I
bit my tongue again and
it hurt. Ford tried for the third time to explain to the president of Landsman
College that our article was the truth.

"Libel
charges are never going to stick because there is actual evidence to back up
our claims. Did you even read the article, sir?" Ford asked.

"I
am not in the business of reading every conspiracy theory that comes
along," the president said. "I'm sure you think you are showing your
students the essence of some journalistic ideal, but attacking a donor with
unsubstantiated claims is not the lesson they should learn."

"No,"
Ford snapped, "the students are learning how power corrupts and corrupted
power uses censorship as a weapon."

"The
truth of this is for the police to decide," the president said dryly. "I
am merely trying to extend a courtesy to a former employee."

"Oh,
so there it is," Ford gave a humorless laugh, "you're final stance is
to ignore the truth, get rid of me, and sweep everything else under the rug. I
suggest you read the article, sir. I also suggest you listen to your students
or there won't be much of a college left for you to make look good."

"Again,
Mr. Bauer. I am trying to help you. Security is there to make sure you are not
taken away in handcuffs. If there's nothing else I can do or say—"

"Oh,
but there is," Ford snarled. "How about you send campus security to
check for the men harassing Dean Dunkirk and his daughter."

"What?"
I whispered. A cold hand closed around my heart as I thought about my father. I
had sent him a text the night before and assured him I was safe. It had never
occurred to me that he might be in actual danger.

Ford's
stormy eyes flashed an apology at me before he continued. "Clarity Dunkirk
received a threatening phone call this morning. A man claimed to be a
professor, then immediately recanted the lie. He said he was waiting for
Clarity on campus. Doesn't that sound like a student's safety is being
jeopardized? Isn't that a better use of your security team's time?"

"Someone
called and threatened me?" I whispered. Fear made my voice catch and it
was louder than I intended.

"Mr.
Bauer, please tell me you do not have a student with you at your private
residence. You are far outside the bounds of propriety," the president
said.

I
snatched the phone from Ford before he could move. "I'd like to talk to
you about propriety, sir," I snapped. "Suspending an administrator
without properly reviewing the accusations seems to be a very large breach of
propriety. As does compromising your students' rights to free speech by
tampering with the student newspaper website."

"Ms.
Dunkirk, this is an inappropriate conversation at this time—"

"You
haven't even read the article. You obviously care more for the public relations
look of Landsman College than the ideals it is trying to promote," I
cried. "That is what is inappropriate."

"My
dear girl," the president said in soothing tones. "I understand how
this can all be very confusing for you."

Ford
stood back and held up his hands. The president of Landsman College was on his
own and I was angry.

"I
refuse to let you condescend to me," I snapped. "I corroborated the
evidence in the plagiarism case and that paper was planted. The facts support
it. If you were interested in anything other than your image, you would open an
investigation yourself. Or should I ask my fellow students to do that for
you?"

There
was a long stretch of silence, then the president took a deep breath. "It
makes sense that Ford Bauer is using this opportunity to relive the career he
ruined. It often happens with professors that come out of their vocations
before they are ready. Perhaps this is my fault for welcoming him to our
campus.

"I
am deeply sorry that he used you as well as Landsman College. Your father's
misstep was the catalyst and in the confusion that I'm sure you felt, Mr. Bauer
stepped in and directed your way of thinking. I wouldn't say 'brainwashed,' but
he certainly has narrowed your scope of information and pointed you in the
direction that most aided him."

I
set the phone down on the corner of the desk and stepped back in disgust. Ford
mouthed 'I'm sorry' and reached out a hand to me. I was too angry to take it
and clenched my fingers into a fist.

"I'm
sorry to interrupt your practiced speech, sir," I snarled, "but you
should really check your facts before continuing with this any farther. Especially
since you are being recorded."

Both
Ford and I heard the president's mouth snap shut.

"Ford
Bauer did not 'brainwash' me. I researched my father's case and found clear
evidence of tampering as well as obvious attempts at blackmail and bribery. Until
you speak directly to those issues, there is no other conversation we will be
having." I jammed my hands on my hips and leaned closer to the phone to
make sure that the president of Landsman College could hear me. "Except if
you would like to explain your reasons for covering this up so quickly. Could
it be that the high-level donor in question is a friend of yours? If we
continued this conversation in your office, would we see generous gifts with
his name attached?"

Ford
shook his head wildly and picked up the phone. He took it off speaker phone and
held up a hand to stop me. "Sir, I think we can all agree this is getting
out of hand. I'm sure there is some official protocol for discussing this
situation and we would be more than happy to oblige."

"What
are you saying? He's in Michael Tailor's pocket," I whispered.

Ford
shook his head again. "Then we will talk again after the full facts of the
case come out." He hung up the phone and flinched when I stepped forward. "Don't
be mad," Ford cried. "I just wanted the conversation to be over. There
wasn't anything productive there for us."

I
threw my hands up in the air. "How can you tell what is and what isn't
productive in the midst of all this chaos?"

As
if on cue, the security guards hammered on Ford's front door again. Ford
couldn't keep the smile from his face.

"What
are you smiling about?" I cried. "How can you be so calm when they're
here to take you to the police station?"

Ford
reached me in two steps and wrapped me in his arms. I felt his deep, rumbling
chuckle before I heard it. "I'm sorry, Clarity, I know this is crazy, but
all of this is good news."

I
pushed back and pinned him with a skeptical look. "Good news? The
article's been erased, security is escorting you to the police, you're going to
be sued for libel, and my father is still suspended. How is any of this good
news?"

He
grinned down at me. "Why would any of this be happening unless what we
wrote was the truth?"

The
full power of what he pointed out swept over me and I was glad for his strong
arms around my waist. I swayed into him and then leaned back with a tentative
smile. "We never would have gotten this kind of response unless it was
true. Now they're scrambling to cover it up. That's why the president called:
he's looking for the best way to spin this."

"Let's
hope, for his sake, he doesn't go with the Clarity Dunkirk was brainwashed
angle. I'm not sure he could survive another conversation with you," Ford
chuckled again.

I
hugged him tight and pretended I didn't hear the insistent knocking on the
front door. "So, now what?"

His
hands traveled down to the hem of the loose-fitting Landsman shirt I was wearing.
Ford tickled my bare thigh. "You might want to put some clothes on before
I let security in," he said.

I
frowned but headed to the bedroom and gathered my clothes. It only took a few
moments to tug on my jeans, slip on my bra and shirt, and rake my fingers
through my hair. Ford was surprised I pulled myself together so quickly.

He
held out his hand and threaded his fingers through mine. "Ready?" he
asked.

I
thought I was, but the trembling wave I had been holding back finally broke
loose. Tears overflowed and I collapsed into Ford's arms with a ragged sob. "This
is all my fault. All of it. This whole big mess started because my father
wanted to help me. How could I let it turn out this way?"

"You're
not in control, Clarity. You can't take the blame," Ford soothed me. "You're
doing the best you can to help your father, and you are doing more than a lot
of people would dare."

I
wrapped my arms around his waist and refused to let him go. "I'm not
letting you answer the door. They can't break it down."

Ford
dropped a kiss on the top of my head. "Don't be mad at the campus
security."

A
surge of anger propelled me out of Ford's arms. I paced around his small living
room. The spilled wax from last night's candles plus our forgotten wine glasses
still stood on the coffee table. We had been so hopeful, so happy.

"I
can't believe the bad guy is going to get away with it," I shrieked. "How
can you stand it?"

Ford
caught me in his arms again. "We can only control our own actions and the
information we present to others. Michael Tailor has to live with his own
actions and we can't force him to feel badly about his choices."

"How
about your choices? Our choices?" I asked. I gestured to the rumpled sofa
and the evidence of our passionate night.

"I
don't regret a single thing," Ford said. His kiss sealed my lips and I
felt one layer of worry lift.

"Please
don't open the door," I pleaded.

Ford
slipped out of my hold and unlocked the door. He stood back and welcomed the
Landsman College security guards inside. "Good morning, gentlemen. You'll
have to give me a few more minutes to pull myself together. I understand we're
heading to the police station."

The
head of security nodded, but none of the men in the doorway moved. Ford laughed
when he realized my razor-sharp glare was the cause of their hesitation.

"How
do we know they're not in the pocket of rich donors too?" I snapped. "I'm
sure more than one of them has looked the other way when certain students are
caught bending the rules."

"I'm
not gonna lie," Ford said to the guards, "she might bite. But there's
fresh coffee in the kitchen and you are more than welcome to grab a cup. I'll
only be a few moments."

Ford
saluted them and strolled towards his bedroom. I stomped after him and fought
the urge to slam the bedroom door. "What are you doing?" I hissed. "Please
tell me you're going to go out the window or something."

"Why
would I run when I'm not guilty?" Ford asked.

"You
offered them coffee!"

Ford
smiled. "Well, it is pretty early in the morning." He caught my pained
look and relented. "I'm sorry, Clarity, I know this is upsetting. The men
out there are only doing their jobs and I can't take out my frustration on
them."

I
pulled open the bedroom door a crack and eyed the security guards. They stood
in the doorway with their arms crossed, looking around, but not moving. "What
if they're here to plant evidence or something? I bet Michael Tailor's gotten
to at least one of them."

Ford
distracted me by stripping off the robe he'd been wearing. He pulled on a clean
pair of black dress pants and a crisp, blue button-down shirt. "Know thy
enemy," Ford said. He nodded towards the door, "and they are not
it."

Ford
opened his bedroom door and called to the security guards. "I suppose I
shouldn't wear a belt, right? Any other jail house fashion recommendations? Shoes
without laces?" Ford asked. "I'm not too sad about skipping the tie. Ties
were never really my thing."

One
security guard smiled, then looked at his colleagues and immediately sobered
his expression. Ford walked out of the bedroom and went to his desk. "Hope
you don't mind if I send a few emails, quickly."

"We're
not the one the police are waiting for," the head of security said.

"Exactly,"
Ford agreed. "And I'm telling you, I'm no expert barista, but I'm betting
my coffee tastes a hell of a lot better than the coffee at the police
station."

The
one security officer took a step towards the kitchen but the head guard shook
his head. "We're ready as soon as you are, Mr. Bauer."

Ford
leaned back in his desk chair and sighed contentedly. "Now that sounds
good. The whole 'professor' title never really sat well on me."

I
left him carrying on his relaxed, one-way conversation with the security guards
while I slipped into the bathroom. Despite Ford's reassurances, I couldn't follow
his easy-going lead. My whole chest was so contracted, I felt like I couldn't
get a full breath. It seemed like months since I had had a normal day.