Bad Professor (An Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (20 page)

Jackson
shook his head. "No, I think the students are paying for it. They miss
you. Now that they know how to organize themselves and create a coherent
message of change, I'm sure they'd be willing to mount a campaign for your
return."

"Don't
you like my replacement?" Patrick asked. "Poor man, he certainly got
thrown in at the deep end. I thought he did pretty well today, though, didn't
you?"

I
chuckled. "Landsman College could still use your guidance. The students
respect you even more now they know you are human and not infallible. You can't
tell me you don't want to be back on campus."

"Just
like you?" Patrick asked.

I
frowned. "I think it's obvious that from the start I was not cut out for
academia. I'll just have to find my way doing something else."

"I
like to imagine you're going to become some sort of scandal vigilante. You'll
show up and expose the truth and then move on to the next den of
iniquity," Jackson said.

"Please
excuse him," Alice interrupted, "he's been reading too many short
stories from his fantasy fiction class."

"Maybe
I could consult with the students too," I said. "I have a few ideas
about how to get you back into your old job."

"The
only ideas I want from you are recipes for Christmas dinner. I figure our
little table had quite a stretch since Thanksgiving. We should all get together
and celebrate the rest of the holidays," Patrick said.

"I'm
in," Clarity said, "as long as Ford is helping cook and clean."

"Jackson
can help too." Alice volunteered. "And I know a recipe for a great
wine spritzer."

"You're
all invited," Patrick said. "I can't think of a better way to kick
off my retirement."

I
scratched my head. "So, you're really going to go through with it?"

"I
made my mistakes and now I have to pay for them. Though, thanks to Alice, I
don't have to have them on my permanent record. I can retire with my dignity
intact."

"Thank
god, because I used to think you might die in your desk chair," Clarity
joked.

"Nope,
see? I've even got a whole new wardrobe. No more suit or sweater vests for me. It's
exciting, and I'm sorry to say I don't want to turn away from that at this
point in my life," Patrick said.

Clarity
grinned. "What he means to say is there's no way he's trading his newfound
plans for anything."

Jackson
eyeballed Patrick's outfit. "You're taking up golf?" he asked.

"I
was thinking boating," I joked.

Patrick
laughed. "No, but it turns out I might get a chance to be an artist
anyway. My daughter's change of direction inspired me and I decided to join one
of the Landsman Alumni tours."

"Oh,
come on, Dad, you're not fooling anyone," Clarity said. "Alice is a
matchmaker; I'm sure she can guess what you're doing and why."

Alice
grinned. "Let me guess—is there any chance this tour is led by
Polly?"

Patrick
narrowed his eyes at Alice but could not hide his smile. "Yes, it just so
happens the tour and course is taught by Polly, but I have no idea what you
think that means."

Jackson
clapped him on the shoulder. "Look out, Alice has spoken. Plus, even I saw
you looked at Polly the way Ford was looking at Clarity. That was some
Thanksgiving party you threw."

"Alright,
fine, I'll admit it," Patrick said. "I'm happy to have a chance to do
what I love with someone that helps me love art even more."

Clarity
laughed at the ruddy color of her father's cheeks. "I hate to say it, but
maybe my mother wasn't so crazy all those years ago."

Patrick
nodded. "You have to find what you love and chase it. Or, in your case,
study it. Or, in Ford's case, admit it."

"What?"
I asked. I snapped back to the conversation to realize that everyone was ringed
around and staring at me. "I thought I already did all the admitting I had
to do today."

"All
I'm saying, Ford, is that maybe you should follow my example. Minus the scandal
and the forced retirement. Better yet, why don't you follow Clarity's example. She's
found what she loves to do and she's pursuing it."

I
looked at Clarity and was arrested by completely different thoughts than her
father's meaning. I loved Clarity and when I thought about what I really wanted
to do, lately all that appeared in my head was her next to me in my bed. As
much as Clarity might appreciate that for an afternoon or evening or two, she
was not going to be impressed with me if I didn't find another passion.

"Wait,
you said all I had to do was admit what I love to do,” I said. "Why are
you all acting as if you know something that I don't know?"

Alice
and Jackson led the way out of the assembly room and down the hallway. We all
paused before stepping outside the glass doors. A flurry of snow was skating
across the windows and leaving a faint, white dusting across the college lawns.
The last of the leaves had finally fallen, and despite a week or two of
unseasonable warmth, winter was finally on its way.

I
gazed at the bare trees and the blowing snow. Maybe I could hibernate all
winter, spend my time with Clarity, and figure out what I wanted to do in the
spring. Even imagining it had me itching with cabin fever. I needed something
to do, a job, a purpose, and it annoyed me that everyone else could see what it
was but me.

I
stopped Clarity. "Where do you think I should go from here?" I asked.

She
smiled. "How about home to my father's for a glass of wine? It's not
Christmas yet but there's no reason we can't all have dinner together."

"Pizza!"
Jackson declared. "I might not be able to defend people in court, but I
can throw a good crust."

"We'll
pick up the ingredients and meet you there," Alice said.

I
caught Clarity's hand as the doors opened. "That's not what I meant,"
I said.

She
looked up at me with a twinkle in her deep green eyes. "What do you want
to do? For a job, I mean," she blushed.

"I
can't go back to journalism. No one will hire me. Sure, the expose article did
a great job, it got great attention, but no one is going to hire me without
recommendations. And, despite standing up to Barton, he still holds my credit. No
one is going to hire someone that has been discredited by Wire
Communications."

"So
you want to go back to teaching here at Landsman?" Clarity asked.

I
grabbed both her hands. "No. Absolutely not. It wasn't the right fit for
me in the first place, but I am not going back to a job that puts obstacles
between you and me."

"You
should talk to the president of the college," Clarity's father added as he
zipped up his winter coat.

"It
doesn't matter if I declare our relationship or not," I said. "I want
to do more, do something myself, instead of teach others about it."

Patrick
chuckled. "A man of action. How did I know my Clarity would choose a man
of action? Stop, for just a moment, and listen. You should talk to the
president of the college."

"Dad,
he just said he's done with academia," Clarity reiterated.

"I
don't think of the students as a dusty old discipline," Patrick said. "I've
been consulting with the student protestors, and advising them on how to
approach and change administrations. Along the way, I may have put it in their
heads that it is important to have an outlet for their message."

"Especially
after the student newspaper's right to free speech was compromised when they
took down our article," Clarity added.

"So,
we put it in the president's head that Landsman College would benefit from a
mirror publication. One intended to be an off-campus, independent newspaper
with the sole mission of holding the college accountable," Patrick
finished with a big smile. "What do you think about that, Mr. Bauer? Sound
too academic for you?"

I
rubbed my neck. "It sounds like a great public relations move on the part
of the college president. He can appease a lot of students by allowing
dissenting views to be heard in a public fashion."

"No,"
Clarity bumped her hip against mine. "He means what do you think of it for
you?"

"For
me?" I asked. I shook my head. "I don't think I can work for someone
else again. The idea of being censored or forced to write from talking points
is too much for me. I'm not going to be someone's outlet for perfectly spun
stories that paint the college in just the right light."

"That's
the beauty of the whole idea, don't you see?" Patrick asked.

I
shook my head again and zipped up my own parka. "What do you think is
going to happen the first time the independent newspaper has a story that
trashes a long-held administrative privilege?" I asked. "The
president will come to visit me personally and see if I, as the most
experienced journalist, can make some diplomatic edits to the articles. I can't
put up with that anymore. That's not the kind of journalism I want to
pursue."

"Aha!
So you do still want to pursue journalism. I was right!" Clarity grinned
at her father. She pulled on her mittens and put a colorful hand on the door. "I
knew we'd come up with something perfect for you."

"We?
Who?" I asked. I stood my ground and crossed my arms. "Don't think
I'm going to put up with Dunkirks ganging up on me."

Patrick
clapped me on the shoulder. "That, you'll have to learn to live with; the
other things, though, are what this position was created to fight."

"What
position?"

Clarity
let go of the door and put her bright mittens on my arms. "I agree that
you should never have to compromise your writing again. That's why you are the
only person the students requested to head up the off-campus newspaper."

All
my tension melted away, leaving me in a muddled state of shock. "Head
up?"

"Yes!"
Clarity laughed. "I think we proved that neither of us is really cut out
for investigative journalism. But, you have an eye for a story and you can
advise students to do the real work of it. That's why they want you to be the
editor-in-chief."

CHAPTER
TWENTY

Clarity

"
Are
you listening?" I asked Ford. "You have
that funny look on your face again. Is it really that bad?"

"What?
No. I'm just having trouble concentrating on your writing," he said.

"I
know, it's the characters, isn't it. Everyone knows what they want except for
them. I'm too far in their heads. The whole plot is just getting gummed
up." I tossed the pages down on the coffee table and slumped back.

Ford
sat up and retrieved the short story. "You're overreacting. Besides, I
wasn't ignoring you—I was just enjoying my new couch."

I
rolled my eyes. "Yes, you do keep pointing out how comfortable it is. What
if I liked the old one?"

"Sentimental
reasons?" Ford asked.

"Yes,
that saggy sofa was one of a kind because it was the location of our first
time. I just don't think I can date you without it," I quipped.

"And
here I thought things were going well," Ford sighed. "Maybe you'll
like the new couch more if you finish nit-picking your perfect story
here."

I
took the pages he handed me and started to read again. Within a few lines,
Ford's lips pressed to my neck and I knew he wasn't listening. I wasn't even
listening as the soft yet fiery caress of his lips trailed down to my shoulder.

The
pages dropped out of my hand as I turned and met his mouth with my own. Ford's
stormy-blue eyes flickered open then burned a deep midnight blue that meant the
wave was coming.

We'd
been dating for over a year, and spring was just around the corner, but I
couldn't help miss the heavy snowfalls that kept us holed up in Ford's
apartment most of the winter. Despite all the excitement of my coming graduation,
all my mind could focus on was Ford's breath as his lips leisurely teased me.

"I
should have finished the story this morning," I murmured against his
heated kisses.

"I
seem to recall we both got a little distracted," Ford said.

Our
lips plunged together at the mentioned memory. Waking up curled against his
broad chest made it impossible to get out of bed most mornings. That particular
morning, I discovered a ticklish spot just below his waistline and we had spent
a long, delicious time exploring to see if he had any more.

My
fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt, but Ford caught my hand. "Oh,
no you don't. You made me squirm enough this morning."

"I
can't get enough of you," I confessed.

It
was a long time before the clock chimed and jolted us both out of our languid
passion. "Oh, god, do I have to go to the office?" Ford groaned.

"If
I have to go to class then you have to go to work," I said. "Besides,
that office is what got you your splendid new couch."

"Speaking
of the couch," Ford hooked an arm around my waist and swung me back
against him. "We really should think about breaking it in. I bet it would
be more comfortable after that."

I
blushed and shook my head. No matter how many times Ford and I made love, he
still managed to make me feel shy and nervous with fluttering excitement. "I
can't be late for class. You know who my professor is, right?"

Ford
let go and flopped back against the couch cushions. "Yeah, who knew that
Jackson would be such a rigorous professor? I mean, I certainly had no idea or
I wouldn't have ever suggested you take on a creative writing
concentration."

I
stood up. "I have to make this deadline or I don't graduate. Now, help me
get the characters right."

"No,
no way," Ford shook his head. "I'm impressed with how you can handle
fiction, but it just isn't for me."

"You
figured out the motive behind the science lab thefts. Why can't you help me
figure out my hero's motivation?" I asked.

"Probably
because I can't even figure out my own," Ford chuckled. "I want you
to stay, but I want you to graduate. See? It doesn't make any sense. The world
is much better off if I stick to non-fiction."

"See?"
I cried. "I should be early to class, not late, because I need Professor
Rumsfeld to help me!"

"You
really call Jackson that?" Ford asked.

"Yes.
Why?"

Ford
sat up and caught my hand. "Because I remember you slipping up and calling
me by my first name all the time. You don't call him Jackson by accident?"

"He's
my professor," I said.

"I
was your professor."

I
looked down into Ford's midnight eyes and melted. "You were always
different, and you knew it. I should have known it the first moment we met, but
there were all sorts of rules in the way."

"Not
like now," Ford said. He tugged my hand.

I
pulled back. "There are still rules, like not missing class just before
graduation."

"Fine,
just add dedicated to the list," Ford fell back in defeat.

"What
list?" I shouldn't have turned around, but he caught my curiosity.

"The
list of things I love about you." He smiled up at me. "You're smart,
outspoken, talented, and dedicated. What on earth are you doing with me?"

"Flattery
will get you nowhere," I said.

He
patted the couch cushion next to him. "There's nowhere I'd rather be than
right here."

I
gave in to the gravitational pull of him. The look of delighted shock when I
slipped over his lap was worth being late to class. Ford caught me in a searing
kiss and we rolled onto the couch. It still surprised me how every time his
hands swept across my body, I felt the current flow between us, just like the
first time.

Except
this time was different. Ford slowed then leaned back and looked deep into my
eyes. There was nothing between us now, no past worries or current scandals, no
rules and no hesitations.

"I
love you, Clarity," he said.

And
I returned the sentiment with every fiber of my body and soul.

We'd
made hot, passionate love, but I never said the words. Standing in line at the
coffee shop later that morning, it was all I could think about.

Why
didn't I tell Ford that I loved him?

Even
though I held my short story covered with Professor Rumsfeld's comments, all I
could do was think about Ford. He loved me and I heard him say the words over
and over again in my head. Why on earth had I not said them back?

I
will tonight. As soon as I see him, I promised myself.

The
coffee shop was packed and the caffeinated buzz was the perfect distraction. As
the line moved slowly, I started to consider Professor Rumsfeld's questions and
comments. Ford was horrified at how much red ink Jackson used on my stories,
but I loved it. It was hard to explain to Ford the mixture of excitement and
dread I felt. I loved the challenge, but was plagued by doubts.

"I
don't get it," Ford had said earlier, "your writing is just about
perfect to me."

Ford
was biased, and now I knew exactly why. He loved me.

"Standing
in line, smiling to yourself. And I thought I was the one with the good
news," Lexi said.

I
grabbed my friend in a tight hug then shrieked when I saw Jasmine was with her
too. "I feel like I haven't seen either of you in forever," I said.

"Not
a surprise since you don't spend much time on campus anymore," Jasmine
said. "Must be nice to have a boyfriend with an apartment and a car."

"Your
new boy toy has a motorcycle and a house on the shore. You can't complain,"
Lexi told Jasmine.

"Tell
me all about him. I want to know all about it. I'm so glad I ran into
you!" I almost launched directly into my story about flubbing up the first
'I love you' with Ford, but Jasmine always had a new, exciting boyfriend to
tell us about.

She
talked about his plans to ship the motorcycle to Italy and drive from the top
of the boot down to the heel. "Of course, we'll have to wait until we get
back from Las Vegas to leave."

"Las
Vegas first? Don't you mean graduation?" I laughed.

"That,
too, but since Lexi is getting married in Las Vegas, that's pretty much number
one on my list," Jasmine grinned.

Lexi
slapped her arm. "Thanks a lot for giving away my good news before I got a
chance to share it!"

I
took a step back and clutched my short story to my chest. "You're getting
married? Carl proposed?"

Jasmine
giggled. "The man hardly talks but he made a whole big speech and
convinced her."

"Alright,
enough," Lexi said. "It's my turn to brag about my proposal and my
wedding."

Jasmine
tossed her hair. "It's not my fault if I tell it better."

"Well,
can you do this?" Lexi asked. She flashed a bright, diamond engagement
ring before our eyes.

"Me
first, I haven't seen it yet!" Jasmine shrieked.

I
smiled at Lexi over our friend's drooling face. "Congratulations, Lexi. I
am so happy for you. So, why are you heading to Vegas?"

"We,"
Lexi said. "We are heading to Las Vegas because there is no way I'm
getting married without both of you next to me."

"And
Ford," Jasmine said. "Ford has to come too."

Lexi
rolled her eyes. "That's her way of asking how things are going for you
two?"

The
barista called me up and I had a few seconds to order my coffee and pull myself
together. Somehow the subject of marriage seemed a lot more exciting now that I
was dating someone serious. Before it was always easy to wave off marriage as
something that other people did. I didn't think I would have to worry about it
until I was established in my career and had a healthy bank account.

Not
that I'd done very good at sticking to my life plan in the last two years. I
still felt so young and so unsure about everything. Was that why I hadn't told
Ford I loved him.

"I
know we're young and it's crazy," Lexi said as she followed me to a table
by the window.

"I
don't think age has anything to do with it," I said. "You and Carl
are really in love."

Lexi
set her cup down on the table and looked at me. "Why do I get the feeling
you have a question for me that's not about bridesmaid dresses or bachelorette
party hats?"

"How
do you know when you're really in love?" I asked.

Jasmine
sat down. "That's easy," she said.

Both
Lexi and I snorted with laughter.

"I
know," Jasmine said, "I don't seem like the 'love' type, but I'm not
stupid. Love is what you feel when there isn't anything else. No doubt, no
shyness, no restlessness. Why do you think I haven't settled down yet? I
haven't felt like the whole world goes away when I'm with someone."

"I'm
writing that down," Lexi said. "You're saying that at my
wedding."

"But
I was planning on doing all sorts of jokes about your short skirts,"
Jasmine said.

Lexi
shoved our friend and the two broke into a fit of giggles. It felt good to
laugh and joke, but I was too stunned by what Jasmine had said.

It
was true. I loved Ford.

"Sorry,
ladies, but I have to go," I said. I stood up and sloshed our coffees.

"Oh,
I'm sorry, Clarity. Am I talking about the wedding too much? I promise we can
talk all about your father's new art retreat." Lexi reached to catch my
hand.

Jasmine
swatted Lexi's hand away. "Can't you see the girl's had a major
revelation? Bet she's going to see that Mr. Bauer down at The Mirror. I bet
she's going to tell him she loves him."

I
took a deep breath and tried to look dignified. "Maybe. First, I better
get him a coffee."

Thomas
opened The Mirror office doors for me when I arrived. The short story was
tucked under my arm, and two coffees balanced precariously in my hand as I
reached for the door handle. I didn't want his help, but it was obvious I
needed it.

"Thanks,
Thomas. Good to see you. I heard you got a job working down here," I said.

"I'm
surprised we haven't bumped into each other before," Thomas said.

I
felt the slide of unease and wondered if he had gotten the job just to be near
me again. Since leaving journalism, I hadn't had to deflect Thomas'
uncomfortable adoration every day. Ford had pointed it out to me how my
classmate pined for me. He had tried to use it to build up my confidence, but
it just made me feel bad. I didn't love Thomas the way he loved me.

Then
I saw Ford and I realized I was right not to lead Thomas on. When it was the
real thing, real love, there was no room for doubt.