Bad Professor (An Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (8 page)

"No,
I haven't read it." I sat down on the edge of the sofa as prim as before. "You
must have."

Ford
smiled. "It's a favorite."

I
flipped through the dog-eared pages and wished I could take the copy home with
me. The pages he marked and the passages he underlined made me wonder more
about him than the story of a young Hemingway in Paris. I imagined climbing
into bed with a book he knew so intimately and the thought fired another blush
across my cheeks.

Focusing
my eyes on the open page in my hands did not help. The passage spoke about
settling into bed with his wife, their books, and the open window showing the
stars outside. Longing was a sharp burn through my chest. The simplicity and
peace of that scene and the loving way it was worded made me want the same with
all my heart.

Ford
had underlined it and bent the corner of the page. I wondered if he read it
with the same ache. He said nothing and gazed out the open window of his narrow
office. The last clinging ivy rustled quietly and the faint scent of cold
drifted in. The season was moving on to winter any day now, and it added to the
bittersweet tone of the words.

The
sound of faraway laughter reached us, but we were both content to sit in the
quiet of the top floor. I knew we were the only ones in the building, and even
the light from the hallway seemed reticent to join us.

Foolish, romantic junk
,
I thought.

That's
why I worried my writing was frivolous. My head was always filled with silly
notions or daydreams that would never come to pass. Ford was just being polite
and he was probably counting the seconds until I woke up from my schoolgirl
trance and let him go home.

Ford
rocked gently in his office chair, his feet still up on the corner of the desk.
He looked perfectly content until he caught me gazing at him again.

"I'd
let you borrow my copy, but it's all marked up. I know it's practical to buy
used books, but you really should take the chance to approach a book entirely
from your own view." He sat up and clapped his feet on the floor.

"Doesn't
that sort of negate the whole point of college lit. classes? What would
Professor Rumsfeld say?" I asked.

The
teasing brought a deeper, sapphire blue to his eyes. "Students only get
what they put in," Ford said, "so, by all means, if you want to skim
the parts that touched me instead of letting the story reach you, then go ahead
and borrow that copy."

I
flipped through a few more pages and glanced over the marked passages. Ford
leaned forward to crane his neck and I wondered if he knew how romantic the
lines he had chosen really sounded.

"I
don't think it would distract me," I quipped. "You've underlined
pretty much every word."

The
corners of his mouth curved up. "If you don't have a book like that, then
you need to spend a lot more time reading."

Our
conversation faded to the background as I wondered how his lips could appear
both hard and soft. The smile warmed them while the hard line of his jaw
promised a force that could crack inhibitions.

I
couldn't breathe. "Sorry, I have plenty of reading for class," I
said.

When
I went to stand up I tripped and Ford shot off his chair to steady me and we
tangled together in the small space. I couldn't step back because the sofa edge
promised to trip me and Ford's leg was caught by his office chair. We teetered
for a moment, arms clinging to each other, and then laughed.

"Hold
on," Ford said, his breathless laugh near my ear. "Get your
balance."

My
balance was gone, along with clear thought, and any sense of control. Ford
pulled me to him stronger than gravity and I stepped closer. His quick intake
of breath encouraged me to come closer.

My
hands had flown to his chest, not to push him away, but to cling. Underneath
one palm, I could feel his heartbeat galloping. All I could do was look up into
his dark-blue eyes and let him draw me closer.

Ford's
supportive arm around my back tightened and I felt the hot pulse of his muscles
flex as he tugged me gently against him.

The
small office plunged into darkness, barely rebuffed by the small desk lamp and
a digital clock that read midnight. Neither of us moved as our privacy was
confirmed. No one else was in Thompson Hall anymore, and we were all alone.

Ford's
lips parted, but he said nothing. His arm continued to press me in and my
fingers flexed on his hard chest instead of pushing him away.

A
question appeared in his eyes and I nodded, more a reaching out than an answer.
I found my footing and reached up on my toes with perfect balance.

Ford
swallowed a frustrated groan and slipped his other hand around my waist. He
pressed his lips together to wet them then let out a surrendering sigh.

My
hands inched up his chest to the bare skin at his unbuttoned shirt. Warning
bells and worries sounded in my head, but a wildfire of desire pushed them
away.

Just
one kiss, I told myself.

One
kiss would be enough to get rid of the pressure, to release the delicious
anticipation, and leave me with clear thoughts. One kiss would snap us both
back to reality.

Ford
must have felt the same way because he bent his head, his eyes drifting to my
eager lips. I felt a push and pull in his arm as he struggled. We were alone,
cloaked in a silent building, in the center of a private campus, and the only
light was blocked out by our joining bodies.

No!
My mind cried
frantically. I was seized with thoughts of my reckless mother and all the hurt
she had caused our family. If I gave in to even one delicious moment, I was no
better than her.

I
caught Ford's eyes and he saw them flare with worry. His only answer was a lost
smile: we were both goners and there was no going back.

When
my body pressed against his and we both felt the heat, it all felt inevitable.

Then
he stopped, stilled his encircling arms, and caught his breath. A battalion of
emotions charged over his face and for a moment, I hoped he would lose the
battle. I wanted his lips on mine, I wanted the heat of his kiss, the assurance
that he felt the same fiery longing as me.

Ford
pulled away and cleared his throat. "I never understood how long dresses
and high heels mixed," he said.

I
forced a giggle. "The lights going out didn't help."

"I
forgot they turn out the building lights after midnight, not that I'm usually
here this late," Ford said. He turned and pushed his desk chair in. "Don't
worry, there's enough light from the exit signs and windows to see our way down
to the front."

I
turned back to his nearly empty bookshelves and pretended I needed a minute to
remember where his copy of
A Moveable Feast
was supposed to fit. It was
a thin ruse but, then again, so was his rummaging around in his desk drawers as
if his keys weren't in his pockets.

Ford
opened another drawer and pulled out a small, laminated card. "I better
call security and let them know we're still in here before they lock the doors.
I don't think shimmying down a rain gutter is going to work in that
dress."

"No,
don't!" I cried. I spun from the bookshelf and dodged over to his desk to
put both hands over his phone.

It
took no more than a few seconds for Ford to catch my reason for panic. Despite the
fact that the overheated moment we had just shared our office visit had been
innocent, the likelihood of campus security seeing it that way was
significantly less. I knew for a fact, from my father, that most of the
campus-wide rumors flew from the mouths of the security guards. They saw
everything and often drew their own conclusions, mostly for fun.

What
would they say when Ford and I sauntered out together in our formal wear?

He
said nothing, but stepped back and crossed his arms. The look on his face was a
choppy surf of frustration and fear. It was much more his reputation than mine
at stake. I would only lose face while he could lose his job.

"Let
me call them," I said. "I'll just tell them I was picking up a paper
and didn't realize the time."

Ford
leaned over to the sofa and picked up the forgotten pages. "That's the
truth," he said.

He
didn't meet my eyes, and I knew whatever we had felt moments before was gone. I
picked up the phone and dialed. "Hi, sorry, I'm in an open office in
Thompson Hall and the lights just went out. Yes, yeah, I know. I was picking up
a paper from my professor and didn't realize it was past midnight."

I
hung up and trotted to the door. "Thanks for the comments on my creative
writing, Professor Bauer," I said.

He
followed me into the hallway and pulled his office door shut behind him. "I'll
walk you down," he said.

"Are
you sure that's a good idea?"

Ford
scowled. "I've fallen asleep in my office once or twice. I'm sure the
security guard will think nothing of it happening again."

The
beefy security guard at the front door didn't even raise an eyebrow. "Student
ID," he held out his hand to me.

Before
Ford could say whose daughter I was, I lied. "It didn't match my dress for
the donors’ dinner. My name's Trisha Maxwell."

The
security guard rolled his eyes and opened the door for me. "Asleep at the
wheel again, Ford?" he asked.

Ford
scrubbed a hand over his face as if he'd just woken up. "Would have slept
all night if I didn't hear her clattering around."

We
stepped out into the cool night air and Ford followed me down the sidewalk. I
shivered, but refused to look back, afraid he would offer me his coat again.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

Ford

"
Hold
on. Let me lock up," the security guard said. He
rattled a large ring of keys and pulled the doors securely shut behind him. "You're
sure no one else is rattling around in there?"

I
shrugged but shook my head. "The School of Journalism doesn't really work
late at night. Our department head likes everyone to stick to a strict
schedule."

The
guard rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it. Last week, I was on my rounds
and she timed how long it took for me to check the first floor."

"Well,
you can always blame it on me. Or just mention my name and she'll move
on," I laughed.

"She
after you too?" The guard slapped me on the shoulder, then followed
Clarity down the steps. "How about I give you a ride to your dorm?"

"No,
that's alright, I live ..." Clarity caught herself before she pointed in
the direction of her father's house. "I'm just heading over there."

"Meeting
your boyfriend, huh?" The security guard looked back at me and grinned. "Bet
he opted for beer pong and the party at the frat house instead of wearing a
tuxedo and being a decent escort for her. Charming."

"There's
another party at the frat house?" I asked. "I thought the Dean of
Students was telling them to make them less frequent."

The
security guard heaved a big sigh as he hefted himself up into his campus pickup
truck. "He couldn't tell them no after they creamed the Lawrence team. Looks
like we've got a winning team this year."

Clarity
had taken a few steps away but stopped. "Why isn't that a good
thing?"

"More
wins, more parties, those boys starting thinking they're big men. Someone's got
to put them in their place, and you know how exhausting that is?" The
guard shut his door and leaned on the window. "You sure you don't want a
lift back to your dorm?"

"I'll
walk with her," I volunteered. "Nothing kills a party like a
professor."

"No
offense, Ford, but you look more like a student than a professor. Get yourself
a tweed jacket or something, for god's sake."

I
laughed. "I'm in a tuxedo, doesn't that give me any gravitas?"

The
guard shook his head with a grin. "Not even with that big vocabulary. Alright,
miss, you let the professor there walk with you. And if those boys can't behave
themselves, go straight for a knee to the groin."

"Sound
advice," I agreed.

Clarity
laughed but took off down the sidewalk without me. The campus pickup truck
drove off. I caught up with Clarity, but couldn't think of a thing to say. We
walked a few dozen yards in silence, just taking in the peaceful chill of the
fall night.

Outwardly,
the night was calm and quiet, but inside I was a riot. Clarity's creamy skin in
the moonlight made it impossible for me to adopt the patriarchal professor role
I had all but promised the security guard I could take on. All I could think
about was the stumble that brought our bodies together, the lights going out
and plunging us into an insulated darkness where anything felt possible.

Every
fiber of my body still called out for her kiss and my mind kept circling back
to the memory of our lips only inches apart.

It
sounded so wildly inappropriate, a professor lusting after a student, but it
felt different. I knew from my first year disaster what was wrong and I
couldn't help but wonder if this was right. Clarity looked at the world with
clear eyes and was open about what she could and could not handle.

I
was different too. It wasn't lust that drove me closer to her as we walked
along the sidewalk. It was a magnetic desire to talk to her, to hear what was
on her mind. She always surprised and inspired me and I hadn't felt inspiration
like that in years.

"You're
shivering; here, take my coat," I said. I slipped off the tuxedo jacket
again and swung it towards her shoulders.

Clarity
ducked away. "No, thank you. I'm fine."

We
rounded the corner and could see the frat house far in the distance. The
raucous party was spilling out the front door and down the porch to the lawn. We
had a dozen or so yards of peace before those drunken football players saw her
and started their cat calls.

I
wanted to stop her, to make her turn to me. The sickening thought that she
really was going to see her boyfriend sent my mind spinning.

"Are
you still seeing that quarterback?" I caught her arm and stopped her cold.

"Adam?"
Clarity blinked up at me. "Are you kidding? You were there the last time I
went out with him, remember?"

"Yeah,
well, the kid's on a winning streak. He's going to be king of campus for the
rest of the season. Isn't that what college girls find attractive?"

Clarity
did not shake off my hand on her bare arm. Instead she patted my cheek and gave
me a silly, condescending smile. "College girls are actually women, and
everyone knows that females mature a lot faster than males."

I
swallowed hard and wished she hadn't voiced my earlier thoughts. "Excuse
me," I said, "but last time I checked, a hot quarterback was every
woman's type."

Clarity
dropped her hand but kept smiling up at me. "Adam's tall, dark, and
handsome, and I have to admit he's attractive, but he still isn't my type. I'm
not looking for someone to spout sports scores and brag about touchdown
passes."

"Then
what are you looking for?" I let go of her arm as the question surprised
us both. "I'm sure Landsman College has plenty of sensitive poets or
focused scientists. You can take your pick."

Clarity
laughed and shook her head. "No, I couldn't. And all I'm looking for is
someone who challenges me, someone who pushes me to be more. I don't really get
that from college guys. It's probably going to have to be someone older, who's
been out in the world."

My
fingers brushed one silky curled hair hanging loosely. "I'm glad you know
you deserve better than a frat house football player."

"You
know I'm really going home, right? I have no intention of going to that party
at all," Clarity said. Her face leaned toward my hand and she brushed her
cheek along my fingers.

I
stepped back and shoved both hands in the pockets of my tuxedo pants. "Always
the good girl. I bet the dean never even gives you a curfew because you're
always home on time anyway."

"Good
girl?" Clarity asked. "What about the blatant lies I just told a
campus security guard. Pretty sure that breaks to the honor code too."

I
wondered if giving the security guard a false name rated up there with almost
kissing me in my office. Clarity had leaned in, her fingers tugging at my shirt
front. I knew I hadn't imagined that. She was just as aware as I was how close
we'd come, but I didn't see even a glimmer of regret in her green eyes.

"Do
you think the honor code encompasses all honor?" I asked.

Her
face lit up at the challenging question. "Interesting. Are you asking me
if I believe in white lies?"

"Well,
you did just give the security guard a false name to save your father any
possible embarrassment," I said.

"True."
Clarity tipped her face to the night sky and thought for a moment. "The Honor
code doesn't have a section about lies meant as a small kindnesses."

"You
should tell your father to include a section on that," I joked.

Clarity
smiled but shook her head. "My father loves to talk about creativity and
passion but he won't let anyone bend the rules. The honor code is his crowning
achievement."

"Yet
the students still love him. He has to have a level of understanding that isn't
set in black and white type on college letterhead."

Clarity
sighed. "He's friendly, he's approachable, but he's strictly by the books.
Why do you think he's such a great dean of students?"

"Even
when it comes to his own daughter and her pursuit of happiness?" I asked.

She
took a few, meandering steps down the sidewalk and disappeared into the shade
of a large maple. The tree still retained a thick canopy of dark-red leaves
that rustled in the chill breeze. I followed her and held out my jacket again.

"No,
thanks, I like feeling the changing season," Clarity said. She cocked an
eyebrow at me. "And, yes, I'm sure my father would disapprove."

I
laughed. "He keeps talking about breaking you out of your shell. He wants
you to branch out and explore all the possibilities. I wonder what he'd think
if you actually followed his advice."

Clarity
laughed and rubbed her silken, bare arms. "He'd jump online and find the
nearest nunnery then pack my bags for me."

"Oh,
come on, your father is a good man. He knows some day he'll have to let you
make your own mistakes."

"Is
that what breaking out of my shell would be? A mistake?"

I
rolled my eyes and laughed. "No, Miss By-the-Books. Revelations are
uncomfortable and they aren't always the exact right thing, but they are never
mistakes." I stepped closer to her in the shadow of the tree. "I can
just imagine what'll you'll be like once you're free of all these self-imposed
practicalities."

"Oh?"
Clarity gave me a playful shove. "And what do you imagine I'll be
like?"

"A
wild Bohemian with tangled hair that runs around barefoot and speaks to the
universe through the written word."

Clarity
used both hands to shove my chest again as she laughed. "Really? Well,
then let me imagine you out of your hard shell."

"I
don't have a hard shell," I rubbed my chest as if she'd wounded me.

"'Self-imposed
practicalities' seems like an apt description for you too. Once those are gone
I imagine you are much different."

I
crossed my arms over my chest. "And what do you imagine is under my hard
shell?"

Clarity's
eyes sparkled even in the deep shadow of the tree. "I bet you write beat
poetry, drink shots of fireball whiskey, and dance on tabletops when you're not
trying to be a buttoned-up professor."

"What?"

"Based
on your level of chagrin, I must be close." Clarity clapped her hands in
delight. "I can just see it now. You alone in your place, the music turned
up, dancing around in your underwear, free as a bird."

She
held up her hands and undulated her hips in a jerky, awkward rhythm. Clarity
giggled, but bit her lower lip in a ridiculous expression and continued her
impression of me.

"Really?"
I asked.

"What,
is it more like this?" Clarity bopped her bare shoulders up and down in a
clumsy and silly dance. She did her best bad dance moves through the dry leaves
in between bursts of giggles.

"You
look ridiculous," I chuckled.

"This
is you," she waggled her eyebrows at me and danced over closer.

"Fine,"
I said, tossing the rented tuxedo jacket on the dry ground. "I know you
think you're all gorgeous in that dress but this is what you probably look like
when you dance." I clapped my arms straight to my sides and swayed like a
stiff board.

"No!"
Clarity smacked my arm.

I
caught her hand and spun her in a circle. We shuffled through the fallen leaves
and laughed.

Clarity
wrapped her other arm around me as we danced and our smiles brushed together. The
kiss was so natural, so easy, that neither of us paused. She leaned up as I
pulled her to me and our lips explored happily before a deeper hunger took
over.

I
pressed into the kiss and felt Clarity open to let me in. She tasted of fresh
fall air and laughter. Our tangled bodies kept swaying to unheard music while
the faint trace of her tongue strummed up a cacophony inside me.

We
heard the running footsteps too late. The jogger, in neon pink shorts and
loudly beating headphones charged around the corner and under the shadow of the
tree.

"Whoa,
sorry lovers!" she called out with a surprised giggle. "Aren't you
both dressed a little too fancy for a roll in the leaves?"

Clarity
and I pushed apart as my heart exploded in fear. The runner circled around us
at a quick pace, enjoying her opportunity to tease two people in a vulnerable
situation.

"Please,
don't stop on my account. You're probably going to get a better workout than me
tonight." She cat called and ran another laughing lap around us.

I
recognized her and fought the urge to hide my face. The girl peered into the
shadows with a teasing look that froze as she made out our faces.

She
skidded to a stop and turned around. "Wait a second. Are you kidding me? Give
me one good reason I shouldn't go straight to report this to the Honor
Council."