Bad Professor (An Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (4 page)

"You're
doing great, Clarity; keep going," he called.

I
couldn't let me catch up with me. The temptation to grab onto his agile and
strong body would be too much and we were literally hanging, fully exposed
above a group of Landsman College students.

"Slow
down, if you want," Ford said. "This isn't a race."

My
inappropriate attraction to him drove me faster along the ropes. I hit the next
platform and kept going, as if the devil himself was chasing me. I didn't slow
down until my safety line, secured by carabiners, got tangled at another
treetop platform.

"Here,
let me help," Ford said. He stepped onto the small platform and reached
his arms around me.

I
peeked out around his shoulder and realized the rest of the college students
were far behind. In my anxiety to keep an appropriate distance between me and
Ford, I had somehow separated us from everyone else. Despite the chill in the
air, the trees still held reddish and gold leaves, secluding us from everyone
else.

"Yeah,"
Ford said, following my gaze. "Looks like we've got the place to ourselves
for a few minutes."

A
wave of dizziness swept over my head and I swayed back. Ford's arms immediately
locked around my waist and drew me hard against his chest.

"I
got you. Don't worry, Clarity; I won't let you fall," he said.

The
plunging sensation only increased as I tipped my head up to meet his smoky-gray
eyes. "Thanks, professor, but I'll be fine." I brought my gloved
hands up between us and pushed against the hard contours of his chest.

He
didn't release me. "You know, you can call me Ford. There's no policy
against that."

"I
can't do that," I said.

Our
lips were just inches away, and for a moment, Ford shortened the distance and I
couldn't breathe. "Maybe if my name was prettier, like yours. Clarity,"
he whispered. "Why do I like saying that so much?"

I
felt heat as if the sunlight had burned through the high clouds and reached
through the treetops to touch me directly. I blinked and saw the light had not changed,
except in Ford's eyes. The smoky-gray had deepened to reveal a dark blue, like
the stormy ocean when the depths are disturbed.

My
hands were supposed to push him away, not drag my fingertips across the ridges
of his abs, and start to slip around his waist. The absentminded move made
Ford's lips part on a ragged sigh and I felt his arms flex around me.

"Clarity,"
he whispered, louder this time.

"We
can't," I said.

Ford’s
voice was a low growl. "That doesn't make this any easier to ignore."

A
wave of desire was pouring out from his eyes and I felt myself about to drown. My
entire body buzzed with the need to press against him, test the soft pressure
of his lips, and dive into the whirlpool of lust I could feel spinning inside
of me.

It
took every bit of strength and nerve for me to turn around and secure my
carabiner to the zip line. The line stretched out through the branches at a
reasonable angle, but I wasn't prepared for the speed my body weight would
create. I flew through the autumn leaves and the wind buffeted away my scream
before it could escape my throat.

I
wanted to enjoy it, the wild rush of it. The free flying sweep out of the
treetops and over the forest floor was exactly what I needed to capture for my
news article. If I could make the reader feel the same exhilaration and sense
of rapture, then Ford would have to give me an A+.

The
only problem was separating it from my personal experience. What I had felt on
the far-reaching ropes and the treetop platforms was not what the reader wanted
to know. Somehow, I had to untangle the riot of feelings I had experienced on
the high platform. My heart skidded to a swinging stop at the thought. Did Ford
feel the same way I did when we touched?

I
must have imagined it. Otherwise, he was right; how were we supposed to ignore
it?

Two
ropes course instructors caught me at the bottom and released me from the
harness. Ford came flying down, laughing and whooping. When he was also free,
he walked over to me.

"I
don't care what you say, that was awesome."

I
drew a shaky breath and pushed him away. "How's that for getting outside
my comfort zone?"

Ford
bumped a bare arm against me and we both felt the jolt of electricity pass
between us. "There's no going back now," he said.

#

My
notes trailed off into a blank space
slashed with absentminded pen marks. I had forgotten to hit record on my laptop
and Professor Bauer's lecture was almost over. I wanted to throw down my pen
and admit defeat, but I could feel his eyes on me. Not a long stare, or a glance
that anyone else would notice, but every time his eyes passed over me, I was
back in the treetops.

The
night after the ropes course, I couldn't sleep. It gave me plenty of time to
write and rewrite the article to make up for my D+, but even I had to admit
that was not why I was sleepless. Lexi had pressed me the entire way back to
campus, but I didn't say a thing.

There
was no way anyone could know what happened with Ford. Almost happened. I had to
keep reminding myself that nothing actually happened. The proximity, the
temptation, the ragged words he whispered were all so heady in my memory that I
felt a wave of hot guilt every time he glanced up at my row.

"Ms.
Dunkirk, perhaps you can recap the best storytelling beats for a human interest
piece?" Professor Bauer asked.

The
lecture hall turned on me and all I could was shake my head. If there had been
a crack in the floor, I would have tried to crawl in it. Where was my focus? I
bent my head and concentrated on that day's material. The answer had to be in
there somewhere.

I
couldn't untangle any of my other thoughts, but I was determined to find the
answer to his question. When I didn’t answer he moved on to someone else.

The
next time I looked up, the last student stepped out of the lecture hall and I
was alone with Ford. He startled when he looked up and saw me, then his
surprise turned into a slow-burning smile. I slammed my book and stood up to
gather my things.

"Having
trouble focusing?" Ford leaned a hip against his desk.

"No.
Why would I be unfocused?" I snapped.

He
laughed. "I don't know, maybe your head is still up in the treetops. It
was pretty impressive how you conquered that ropes course."

"As
long as the article I wrote changed that D+ to an A+," I said.

Ford
caught me at the exit. "Clarity, I want to apologize if I made you
uncomfortable. I think the excitement of the course just got the better of
me."

All
I could do was stare at his strong fingers holding my arm in a gentle but iron
grip. "I was terrified," I said, "I don't remember much."

He
grinned and my insides flipped. "You can't lie. And I meant what I
said."

My
vision furred around the edges. "About what?"

"You
can't go back to being all ultra-focused. Now that you pushed your own
boundaries, there's no going back." Ford slipped his hand down my arm to
squeeze my fingers.

"Did
I get the A+?" I asked.

He
rolled his eyes. "Yes. Happy?"

I
walked out of the lecture hall before he could see me smile.

In
the foyer of Thompson Hall, I let out a wobbly breath, then almost screamed as
someone called my name.

"Clarity?
Jeez, sorry. Are you okay? I didn't mean to startle you," Thomas reached
out a hand to steady me, then shoved it in his pocket instead. "I was just
waiting in case you wanted to grab a coffee or something."

"Thanks,
Thomas, that's nice, but I'm going to head over to the library," I said.

"Maybe
tomorrow," Thomas said. "Hey, I've got the notes from today's lecture
if you need them. Professor Bauer really zeroes in on you, doesn't he?"

I
stopped and turned back to my classmate. "Why do you say that?"

Thomas
brushed his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes and shrugged. "Everyone
thinks you're Professor Bauer's prized student. I mean, you're the one he calls
on with all the hard questions, and you're usually the first to make him
clarify something."

I
cleared my throat around a rising knot of panic. "I don't think he singles
me out. He's hard on the students he thinks aren't paying attention."

"That's
not you, usually," Thomas said. "Usually you're more than ready to
hold your own."

I
knew Thomas wanted to say more. He shifted from one lanky leg to the other. "What
is it?" I crossed my arms and looked up at him.

"It's
just, well, I feel like you should know the rumors, even though you're totally
above all that." Thomas didn't know what to do with his hands and they
flapped around until he shoved them deep in his pockets again.

Thompson
Hall started to spin around me. "What rumors?"

Thomas
cleared his throat. "Professor Bauer, people say that he, I mean, he has
in the past ..."

I
groaned, "Just spit it out, Thomas!"

"Professor
Bauer seduces students."

I
stepped back and gawked up at my tall classmate. "You think Professor
Bauer tries to sleep with students? And you think you need to warn me about
this?"

"It
has nothing to do with you," Thomas yanked his hands out and held them up
in surrender. "I just thought you should hear that rumor in case he starts
paying you, you know, too much attention."

His
eyes darted back and forth and his nerves made sense. Thomas had been trying
for a year and a half to ask me out, but he'd never gotten up the courage. We
were friends and I never encouraged him past that. Now he was warning me as a
friend, but also as a jealous rival. Thomas couldn't stand the idea of
Professor Bauer getting close to me when he wasn't.

"Thanks,
Thomas," I patted his arm and walked away.

"I'll
see you at the football game tonight?" he called.

I
waved over my shoulder and kept walking. Our class was meeting at the football game
to practice capturing quick details and to try the fast pace of sports
journalism.

It
was just my luck that when I arrived at the game, the only available seat was
right next to Ford. I had intended to spend the whole game thinking of ways to
insulate myself against gossip, but now with Ford cheering beside me, my good
intentions were scattering.

"More
important than the game is the crowd," Ford told me and the students near
us. "The reader is one of the cheering fans, so it's important to them to
know how the real fans reacted in the stands. Look around and take note of what
you see."

"I
see Professor Appleyard in face paint," I said.

Ford
looked where I pointed and burst out laughing. "You've got a good eye for
details, Dunkirk," he said.

It
was casual, and none of the other students even noticed, but I felt his thigh
bump against mine as if an explosion had rocked the entire set of bleachers. I
had to find a way to put some serious distance between us.

After
the game, Ford led us onto the field to interview the players. The players had
been prepped by their coach and it was a learning opportunity for them too. That
didn't explain why the players jostled each other to answer my questions, but
Ford put an end to that quickly.

"Why
don't you talk to Brian Tailor? You met his father at the art opening,
remember?" Ford asked me.

"The
star running back?" Thomas asked. "I have questions for him."

Ford
frowned, but before he could steer me in another direction, the quarterback
appeared in front of me.

"Hi,
I'm Adam," he said with a charming smile.

I
smiled back, despite Ford's gunmetal glance. "Do you mind if I ask you a
few questions, Adam?"

"If
you answer one for me first," the quarterback said. "Would you go out
with me tomorrow night?"

His
teammates cat-called, and the nearest ones landed punches on his shoulder, but
Adam kept smiling at me with his bright-blue, hopeful eyes. He was perfect.

Ford
hovered near by and a few of my journalism classmates whispered about the look
on his face.

"I'd
love to, Adam." I squashed the rumors, shut down my own inappropriate
feelings for a professor, and accepted a date all in one sentence. "Now,
how about that interview?"

CHAPTER
FOUR

Ford

I
met Jackson outside the bar and
waited while he made kissing noises into his phone.

"Sorry,
I haven't seen Alice all day," he said. He dropped his phone into his
pocket and opened the swinging door of the bar.

I
patted my friend's shoulder as I went inside. "That's alright, 'cause
you're buying."

We
both stopped immediately inside the door and scanned the room for students. Landsman
College was in the midst of a smaller outlying town and the chances of running
into students was high everywhere I went. Normally it was fine, fun even, but
tonight I wanted to drink.

Seeing
only a few quiet couples and scattered regulars, Jackson and I found seats at
the bar. The standing lamps mixed in amongst the shelves of booze was almost
the only light in the place. Weak lightbulbs encased in dusty, red, glass
shades hung over us with barely enough glow to light a bowl of peanuts.

I
felt the knots in my shoulders finally start to loosen. "Beer and a
shot," I ordered.

Jackson
handed the bartender his credit card and ordered a beer. "Was the blind
date really that bad?" he asked.

The
bartender chuckled as he moved over to the taps. I caught his sympathetic
glance and nodded. "What made me think going on any date in front of
students was a good idea?" I wondered.

"Alice
thought she was fun, might break you out of your perpetual bad mood,"
Jackson said.

"Since
when is fun discussing the details of a pet iguana's eating habits?" I
picked up the beer the bartender passed me and took a long, grateful gulp. "At
full volume in the middle of an art opening?"

"I
thought she was at least pretty." Jackson clacked his pint glass against
mine.

"Yes,
in a bright, cartoonish sort of way. She didn't let me get a single word in
between the iguana, her bathroom grout, and plans to host a karaoke
Christmas."

My
friend choked on his beer. "Yeah, Alice warned me that Tara was really
into karaoke. I just figured you wanted the fun of meeting someone knew. I
didn't think you'd be singing duets or anything."

"Singing
duets?" The thought was horrifying. The openly laughing bartender poured
us both a shot of whiskey.

I
knocked it back neat and smiled. "Did I tell you Dean Dunkirk's daughter
saved me? She had questions about class and suggested I meet with all the
journalism students before they left."

Jackson
gave me a curious, sideways glance. "Saved you from a blind date?"

"Not
like that," I shook my head. Why had I told Jackson about Clarity? "Besides,
I thought you liked to be up on campus gossip. She's dating the star
quarterback."

Jackson
breathed a sigh of relief and started talking football. All I could think about
was Clarity smiling up at that young jock. Adam was tall, with black hair and
blue eyes. Was that Clarity's type? I ran a hand through my own wild, black
hair and scowled.

"I
know what's bothering you," Jackson said.

I
took another long sip of beer. "I doubt it."

"You
want to get back into journalism. You never wanted to leave. And now your
department head is breathing down your neck, you took on the student paper to
appease her, and it's only made you miss the real thing."

"Macken
doesn't bother me," I said.

"God,
how can she not? I'm not even in your department and that woman frightens
me." Jackson leaned his elbows on the bar. "She's had you on
unofficial probation since you started. Doesn't that drive you insane?"

I
ground my teeth and finished half my beer. "You and I both know I deserve
to be on probation."

"One
accidental indiscretion your first year does not make you the scourge of the
School of Journalism. There was no complaint, no proof, and it was one-time
thing. Macken needs to find a new hobby," Jackson said.

It
was more than once. Just one unforgivable week. I crushed a peanut against the
polished wood of the bar. "At least we have a winning football team this
year. Not that I think the sun shines out our quarterback's ass. He's good, but
too showy, and it's gonna cost the team. The star running back, Carl, on the
other hand. He's got his head on straight."

Jackson
swiveled on his bar stool to study my face. "Not a fan of the quarterback,
huh? I've got him in class and he's a good guy."

I
snorted, thinking about the special considerations college football players
thought came with their talent. "Wait 'till you try to give him an honest
grade."

"Better
a football player than the Dean of Students' daughter. No wonder you're not
into the flow of the semester yet. It has to be hard thinking the dean is
getting the lowdown on your class every day."

"Clarity's
not like that." I put my beer down too sharply. "She's hard-working
and ultra-focused. Too focused, actually. Dean Dunkirk keeps hinting that he
wants her to break out of her career track and try a few other things before
graduating."

"Hmm,"
Jackson said, considering me. "Maybe she should try out my creative
writing elective. I'll let you suggest it if you want to score points with the
dean."

"Somebody's
got to do something about this music," I stood up. "Order me another
beer, will ya? I'm going to go stock the jukebox with something good."

"Sure.
Two beers and shots for a bad date sounds about right."

I
left Jackson chatting with the bartender and made my way across the bar to the
jukebox. It stood just outside the hallway to the restrooms and I was relieved
to see the pop playlist was almost over. I selected a few blues pieces and
slipped something a little harder in between. My mood was definitely darker
than the upbeat chorus that was currently repeating.

"Ford
Bauer, what a surprise! Wasn't sure I'd ever see you again."

The
hairs on the back of my neck bristled. "Barton," I bit out.

Wesley
Barton sauntered down the hallway from the restroom and held out a hand for me
to shake. I crossed my arms and looked the disgustingly wealthy entrepreneur
over. The suit was Italian, custom-made, and his shoes flashed with a high
polish. Despite his husky build and his salt and pepper hair, Barton was
attractive. His jovial smile had the women that passed us to the bathroom
fluttering their eyelashes.

I
imagined punching him in the face and almost returned his smile. "Slumming
it?" I asked.

"Meeting
a friend. He's got connections up at Landsman College. Maybe you know him? Michael
Tailor?" Barton nodded towards one of the tables in the front window. "How
about you join us and I buy you a drink?"

"Back
off, Barton." I stepped forward and made him rock back on his heels. "We
both know you deserve to be in jail, and you would be if you didn't have my
editor in your pocket."

"Former
editor," he reminded me. "And I don't think it counts as 'in my
pocket' when I own the entire media outlet."

"If
you're going to censor stories and only present the facts that you approve,
then it should be called entertainment, not media."

Barton
slapped me on the shoulder. "Don't be so sore just because we killed your
story. I gave you a chance to stay. You could have found other stories to cover
and kept your career. Who knew you'd tuck tail right away and run for a cushy
academic job?"

I
knocked Barton's hand away. "You forced me out. You used all your money
and connections to make the facts disappear and then you sent that shark of a
lawyer to warn me about libel."

"To
warn you, yes." Barton tried to step around me. "It was your decision
to leave Wire Communications."

"What
choice did I have?" The volume of my voice was edging up past the jukebox
music. "I'm a journalist. I can't work at a place that kills the facts to
protect its own."

"You
were a journalist. From what I hear, you're now a professor. That can't be all
bad. In fact, I met a Landsman College student the other day. Patrick Dunkirk's
daughter."

"Clarity?"
My throat closed around her name.

Barton
nodded with a reptilian smile. "She's interested in journalism
internships. Quite ambitious, oh, and beautiful. I can't feel bad about where
you ended up when the students at Landsman look like her." Barton kissed
his fingertips.

I
grabbed his hand and crushed it in my palm. "I know you think you're
untouchable, but I'm ready to get my hands dirty."

"Whoa,
hey, sorry for the misunderstanding. We were just leaving." Jackson
grabbed me by both shoulders and yanked me away from the rich man.

I
jerked free of my friend and tried to get back into Barton's smug face. Jackson
dodged in front of me. "Move, we're not done."

"We're
leaving," Jackson said.

For
a lanky English professor, my friend was deceptively strong. I could have taken
him out with one, well-placed punch, but he knew I wouldn't, so he shoved me
towards the door with impunity.

"Nice
to see you, professor," Barton called.

The
bar door swung shut behind us and Jackson let out a tight breath. "What in
the hell was all that about?"

I
paced up and down the sidewalk. "That? That slimy worm of a man is Wesley
Barton, owner of Wire Communications."

"The
man you tried to take down?" Jackson asked.

"The
man that discredited me and forced me to leave journalism." Something
snapped and I lunged for the door.

"Whoa,
not tonight," Jackson groaned as he pushed me back. "That
conversation is over."

"My
whole career is over because of him. Right now, he should be rotting in jail
while I polish a journalism award. The only reason it all turned out like this
is because he's rich." I stalked up and down the sidewalk again and wished
Barton would try to leave the bar.

Jackson
held out his skinny arms and tried to corral me towards my apartment. "I'm
not sure you can regain your professional or personal integrity by caving his
face in."

The
burst of laughter surprised us both. "You're right, but, god, it would
feel good." My shoulders slumped. Slowly, all the reasons I needed to keep
my job came flooding back into my conscience.

Jackson
slapped me on the back as we walked away. "Remember, I've seen you fight
before. You're lethal. My wife's a great lawyer, but even she couldn't get you
out of assault with a deadly weapon. And I really like sleeping in my
bed."

"Alice
would make you sleep on the couch for getting into a bar fight?" I asked
with a chuckle. "Fine, then for your sake, I won't go back and put my fist
through his nose."

"See?
What are friends for?" Jackson grinned and stopped next to his car. "Need
a lift?"

"Nah,
I gotta walk this off. My place isn't that far if I cut across campus," I
said.

"As
long as you keep walking." Jackson gave me a mock salute and drove home to
his new wife.

The
steep walk uphill to Landsman College cleared my head, and by the time I looked
up, I was far off course. Music pumped from the row of old Victorians along the
last side street before campus. The sorority and fraternity houses were always
lively on the weekend, but my stomach sank as I saw which house was overflowing
with a party.

The
majority of Landsman jocks were Kappa Sig and I remembered overhearing that Clarity
had a date with the quarterback that night. I was still confused over why she
would accept a date with a jock. Sure, he was good-looking and popular, but
neither of those were important factors to Clarity. I thought she was more
interested in debating current events and discussing world news. It was hard to
imagine her having fun at a keg party.

I
walked closer just in case she realized her mistake and was trying to leave the
party.

"Psst,
Bauer. Over here."

The
whispered voice was hidden in the deep shadows of an oak tree. "Dean
Dunkirk?" I asked, shuffling through the dry leaves to join him.

"I
know, I know, this looks a little crazy," he said.

"Isn't
it your job to monitor student activities on campus?"

Dean
Dunkirk gave my shoulder a squeeze. "Exactly. Just doing my job. It has
nothing to do with the fact that my daughter is in there with a football
player."

I
chuckled even as the same thought sent a stabbing pain through my chest. "You
don't think her last name alone keeps her safe?"

"Clarity
can take care of herself. She'll kill me if she knows I'm checking up on her. But,
dammit, I'm her father and she's my only daughter and ..."