Bad Professor (An Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (2 page)

"Challenge
accepted," I said. I walked a semi-circle around Ford and back. "You've
got more confidence than a student, you're too bored to be a professor, and you
can’t be an administrator."

He
turned his back on the party and turned up the wattage of his smile. "Really?
Then why am I here?"

"Oh
no." My smile slipped. "Are you one of those reporters hoping for
some big scandal on campus?" Landsman College was a highly ranked, private
college and there was always someone thinking its long-standing traditions were
a rock to be turned over.

"A
lot of us prefer the term journalist." Ford returned to lean against the
built-in dresser by the stairs.

"Me
too. I definitely don't want to be called a reporter, or worse, a cub
reporter."

Ford
put his glass of Scotch between himself and my gesticulating enthusiasm. "You
know it's a dying art, right? Not many newspapers around anymore."

"But
plenty of news outlets," I said. Before I could ask him which one he
worked for, I heard the icy smash of a dropped plate. "Sorry, I better go
help with that." In a polite reflex, I reached out and shook his hand.

Ford
blinked in surprise then tugged me back as I turned. "Thanks for the
drink, Clarity. I owe you one."

Each
word was a balloon that buoyed me up as I went to help with the spill. When I
saw that fast-moving Lexi already had it under control, I turned right around. I
took one step back towards Ford and ran right into a classmate.

"Clarity,
hi. Wow, you look beautiful. I mean, beautiful party. You've done a great
job." Thomas gripped his red plastic cup with both hands. "I'm
looking forward to Editing for Print and Digital Audiences; aren't you?"

"Hi,
Thomas. Yeah, I'm taking that class too but I think I'm more excited about
Intermediate News Reporting. In fact, I've been searching for headlines this
whole party," I said.

Thomas
smiled in relief. The gangly journalism major was glad for a game he could
handle. Casual conversation seemed to be a challenge for him, at least around
me. Now he turned to stand next to me and scan the crowd.

"There's
something." He nodded towards Libby's bright, brittle hair. "I heard
she had an affair with a professor her freshman year."

"Really,"
I feigned surprise. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ford leave the shadows of
the back hall. He moved across the dining room, dragging appreciative eyes with
him, and touched one shoulder to the archway of the living room.

Thomas
followed my eyes and frowned. "I'm not sure what his story is, but I'm
sure there's something there."

"Do
you know who he is?" I asked.

"Sure,"
Thomas's frown deepened. "That's Professor Bauer; he teaches Multimedia
Production and Storytelling. We start his class in the morning. Want me to save
you a seat?"

My
insides smeared like soaked newsprint. Ford was a professor? The handsome man
with electric gray eyes was completely off limits. I swore at Libby for being
right; the thought of breaking the honor code with Ford, Professor Bauer, only
made the currents of attraction spark hotter. I blushed as my body betrayed my
rule-abiding mind.

"Is
that your father?" Thomas asked.

"What?"
My thoughts struggled back into linear fashion. "Dad! There you are,"
I called. My father joined us and automatically shook hands with Thomas. "Dad,
this is Thomas; he's a fellow journalism major. Thomas, this is my dad, Dean
Dunkirk."

"Nice
to meet you, Thomas. I like getting to know my daughter's classmates." My
father noticed Thomas's nervous sheen of sweat, so he asked an easy question to
put him at ease. "How'd you chose journalism?"

"I
tried advertising and copywriting, but my advisor helped me realize I'm more
analytical than creative. Journalism seemed like the best fit," Thomas
said.

My
father nodded. "It's good to try things out before you decide what's
really right. I keep trying to tell Clarity that, but she won't listen. She's
got everything mapped out, always has."

"There
is nothing wrong with having a career path," I said.

My
father patted my shoulder. "Only if you keep it so narrow that you don't
see any of the other possibilities."

"What,
like painting?" I snapped.

Thomas
shuffled his big feet, but my father took the outburst in stride. "My
daughter knows I have a passion for art. There's nothing wrong with wanting a
creative pursuit. Not everything has to be practical down to the last
detail."

"There's
nothing wrong with focus and ambition," I said. "Excuse me,
gentlemen, I have to check on the other guests."

Thomas's
big eyes beseeched me to stay, but I turned and wove my way through to the
porch. Jasmine and Lexi were teamed up against two guys from the physics
department. A few smiles and poses, and the ping pong ball seemed to defy the
laws of gravity so the girls could win. They giggled and the guys didn't look
sad at all as they got conciliatory hugs.

I
stood on the top step but could not walk down and join them. I hung suspended
between a room of cheering college friends and an interesting discussion on
education funding. The conversations among the faculty were far more
interesting, as they all came from diverse and distinguished careers.

I
would never fit in with them if I didn't concentrate on my own career path. Yes,
declaring my journalism major as a freshman had narrowed my areas of study
immediately, but it kept me focused. There was no way I could be accused of
being flighty or free-spirited like my absent mother. She never held a job or
relationship that kept her in one place, and the consequential loneliness of
that choice drove me in the opposite direction. The straight and narrow was
just fine.

And
that made it no less exciting for me. I turned back to the house and imagined a
correspondents’ dinner. I'd get the scoop, I'd capture the perfect quote, and
Ford would congratulate me on my keen observations again. No, scratch that. I
kicked Professor Bauer out of my daydream.

I
couldn't wait to go to press conferences and listen intently to the hidden
truths behind the spin. The idea of arguing over interpretations with Ford sent
a zip of anticipation up my back. No, again, he was a professor at Landsman
College and I was a student. Not only a student, but the Dean of Students’
daughter. I couldn't be daydreaming about him no matter how those metal-gray
eyes sparked something inside me.

I
pushed the handsome stranger out of my head. Tomorrow would arrive soon enough,
and I could still get to know him. Then it would be easier to think of him as a
stuffy, probably strict, teacher.

"Clarity,
there you are. Professor Bauer, I'd like you to meet my prized assistant and
the arranger of this successful party," my father said.

Ford's
lethal smile hit me full force. "Nice to meet you, Clarity. Dean Dunkirk
has been telling me all about how indispensable you are to him."

He
didn't realize I was the dean's daughter; his smile was too warm and he held my
outstretched hand a beat too long.

My
father didn't notice the caress or the misunderstanding. "Clarity is
indispensable, but that doesn't stop me from wishing she would break out, see a
little more of the world, get inspired. Perhaps you can help convince her that
it's actually better to bounce around a little and try things out before
settling down."

Ford's
smiled took my temperature up another five degrees. "She needs someone to
bring her out of her shell?"

"Exactly,"
my father said. "Someone to show her it's okay to bend the rules now and
then."

"Dean
Dunkirk, should you really be talking about bending rules?" I asked.

My
father laughed. "Ah, Clarity; she's my voice of reason. I just want you to
feel some passion. What kind of person plans so carefully?"

"The
person in charge of the desserts table. Please excuse me; there's an empty
cookie tray I need to refill." I spun away from my father and Ford. I
wasn't ready to see his gray eyes cool when he realized I was a student.

Professor
Bauer, I reminded myself as I ignored the empty cookie tray and slipped out the
back door of the kitchen. I edged along the sidewalk underneath the kitchen
windows. Risking being seen for a second, I dodged into the shadows of the
small fruit trees that separated the house from the vegetable garden. The sounds
and pressures of the party faded behind me.

One
of the few pieces of advice I remembered from my estranged mother echoed in my
head. "You wanna know what love really feels like?" she had asked me
when I had my first crush. "Imagine you're an outlet and your special
someone is a plug. They come along, you realize how you fit together, and ding!
The whole room lights up."

It
was an odd memory to surface as I hid in the shadowed garden. I was glad for
the cool breeze. Now that the temperature was dropping, it was actually
starting to feel like fall.
 
A good time
to be wrapped up in a blanket in front of a crackling fire. My cheek resting
against a strong, steady heartbeat and my hair caught in the rasping caress of
a stubbled chin.

What
was I doing? I paced around the four raised garden beds. A few stray plants
hung on despite the coming frost, but even they could not keep Ford out of my
head.

Professor
Bauer.

I
had to escape the party. Not only had my father neglected to introduce me as
his daughter, but he had gone on and on about wanting me to do something
reckless and passionate. Ford had listened politely but the wolfish curve of
his lips told me he approved of my father's out-of-character advice. I wondered
how many glasses of Scotch my father had drank. Maybe I should have dragged him
outside to clear his head too.

It
wasn't working for me. I paced one more lap around the raised garden beds then
flopped onto our sun-bleached bench. Counting backwards was supposed to calm
me. I took a deep breath and started at twenty. By fifteen, I was struggling to
erase tall, dark, and handsome. By ten, my shoulders relaxed.

At
seven, I heard boots on the stepping stones. My eyes flew open and Ford stopped
just past the low branches of our old apple tree.

"Sorry,
I didn't mean to disturb you," he said.

You
have no idea, I thought. "Too stuffy in there?" I asked him.

Ford
laughed. "A little bit." He strode over and joined me on the bench. "Let
me guess: you're escaping from your boss."

"My
boss? Dean Dunkirk?" I knew I should correct him, but we were so separate
from the party. There wouldn't be any harm in being my own person for just a
few, quiet moments. "Yeah, he's a big talker about breaking out and
bending rules, but what do you want to bet he'll have a dozen things for me to
do when I get back?" I said.

Ford
leaned back and stretched his long legs out. He crossed his ankles casually and
sighed. "I know it's just the beginning of the school year, but I keep
thinking about grabbing the train and heading to the end of the line. Or just
riding until I feel like getting off and not caring where I end up. That's bad,
isn't it?"

I
hitched an elbow up onto the back of the bench and turned to face him. "I
regularly dream about packing a bag, getting in my car, and just driving,"
I confessed.

"Talk
to me when you have that bag already packed," Ford said. "We could be
past Chicago and on our way west in an hour. Not that I've studied the train
time tables or anything." His smile flashed like lightning in the dark
garden.

"Why
the train?" I asked.

"That
way I'm moving, but I can still enjoy the scenery." He looped an arm over
the back of the bench next to mine. His hand brushed the ends of my hair. "There
are lots of beautiful things I'd like to focus on for a while."

His
leg pressed along my thigh and the autumn air couldn't cool me down enough. A
blush rose on my cheeks and I was glad for the shadowy garden. "Running
away on a train sounds so romantic," I said.

"Exactly,"
Ford murmured. "Do you think Dean Dunkirk would approve of you jumping on
a train for a romantic getaway?"

I
pulled back and stood up. "Sorry, I really should be getting back to the
party."

Ford
stood up. "So, Dean Dunkirk's right, huh? You're always so good?"

"Good
night," I said, and fled back to my father's house.

CHAPTER
TWO

Ford

Clarity's
dark-red hair was easy
to spot through the windows. I wasn't ready to return to the party. I wasn't
ready to admit that she was the reason I had stepped outside for some fresh air
in the first place. It was all the professors, so noble in their pursuits, and
the students, so fresh-faced and eager. It drove me crazy how the real world
was pushed outside of Landsman College.

I
watched Clarity move through the party. She belonged there, smiled and chatted
with everyone, and looked at home. I felt a plume of warmth in my chest. Just
minutes ago, she had been outside with me, wishing for a way to get far away
and free of it all.

I
knew the long hours and close quarters of a train would be no problem at all if
Clarity was riding with me. The thought sent me marching towards the front of
the house. I hadn't felt a kick of attraction that strong since high school. That
girl dumped me flat right after I enlisted and I'd been keeping it simple ever
since I’d returned to civilian life. Clarity was the only exception I'd run
across, and all I could think to do was get far away from her.

"Ford,
is that you? What are you doing skulking around in the roses?"

I
skipped the stepping stones and jumped onto the sidewalk to join my friend. "Jackson,
thank god you're here. Just the breath of fresh air I was looking for."

"Speaking
of fresh air," Jackson said, "Alice and I want you to meet her
friend. I think you two would really get along."

"Nice
talking with you, Jackson, see you on campus." I veered away from the
front steps and headed to my car.

"Come
on, Ford; it can't be that bad," Jackson grabbed my arm and hauled me
back.

"What
is this obsession with setting me up?" I asked.

Jackson
grinned. "I can't help it. After Alice and I got married this summer, I
just want other people to feel the same happiness. And I wouldn't be bugging
you with blind dates if you'd just find someone yourself."

"I'll
let you know when I find someone interesting enough to date," I said.

We
walked back through the front door and I caught a glimpse of Clarity heading
over to greet Jackson. She stopped suddenly when she saw me. Her green eyes
refracted a vibrant light right through my chest.

"Whoa,
what is going on there?" Jackson asked, slack-jawed.

Before
he could say anything else, I slipped past the math professors and caught up to
her before she disappeared into the kitchen. "So, just out of curiosity,
what are your plans for Thanksgiving break?" I asked.

A
delicious pink hue touched her cheeks and I was tempted to feel the heat of her
blush with my lips. She blinked up at me and I couldn't read the shifting
forest shades of green in her gaze.

"What
exactly are you asking?" Clarity asked.

"No
pressure, I know it's crazy, but all I'm saying is that we'd have enough time
to get to know each other, get out on the West Coast, and fly back before break
is over." My mouth belonged to someone else, clearly someone who had not
asked out a woman in a very long time. I had skipped the safe drinks
suggestion, bypassed shared meals, and went straight for a couple’s vacation. She
was going to think I was crazy.

"That's
crazy," Clarity said.

"I
know you're going to say 'but.' Come on, you know you want to." My chest
jittered, unaccustomed to the heady mix of recklessness and excitement. It had
been way too long. "Dean Dunkirk, I'm sure you have a few great
suggestions for places to go in California."

Clarity's
creamy skin went pale as the Dean of Students joined us. She swayed back a bit,
so I wrapped an arm around her waist. Suddenly my suggestion didn't seem so
insane. She fit against me so perfectly, I knew I needed her there.

Dean
Dunkirk smiled, too engrossed in his own advice to notice me pulling Clarity close.
"Personally I'd head right to Napa Valley. The wine country there is
something to see and there are great, hidden towns to stay in while you
explore. My daughter has always wanted to go there. Isn't that right,
Clarity?"

"Clarity?
Your daughter?" My words weren't coming out right. I dropped my arm from
around her waist. "You're Clarity Dunkirk?"

"Beautiful
name, isn't it? One of the only things her mother and I agreed on," Dean
Dunkirk said.

Beautiful,
and I knew the moment she marched up to me that she wouldn't hesitate to
challenge me. It was something about her that I felt with certainty and knew I
needed.

My
mind switched into tactical mode, determined to work around the obstacle and
complete my mission. Why Clarity was a top priority mission didn't matter. It
felt good to want something again.

And
I liked Dean Dunkirk. The Dean of Students was easy to talk to, full of
practical but light-hearted advice, and he obviously had a healthy respect for
his daughter. I figured a few more friendly conversations and I could work my
way up to asking permission to date her.

"Well,
thank you both for a wonderful party. I'm sorry to leave so soon, but I have an
early class in the morning," I said. I needed to go, get a little
distance, and see if I could form a plan that would work.

I
marched out the front door, the sense of purpose giving my muscles new
vitality. The last few years, I had drifted along at Landsman College and
avoided most people. Jackson was a rare exception.

My
phone rang and it was the only other person I voluntarily talked to. "Hi,
Liz, how's my baby sister?"

"Are
you at a party?" she asked.

"Just
leaving, and no, it's not what you think. Just a faculty get-together with some
of the Honor Council students," I said.

"Then
why do you sound so happy?"

"I'm
excited for class to start tomorrow," I lied.

Liz
chuckled. "I still can't believe my big brother is a college
professor."

"This
is year three," I said, and felt the old, familiar pang.

"Don't
you miss it? You were a great journalist, Ford. I still don't understand how
you got let go for doing too good a job," Liz said.

"I'm
living proof it's possible to know too much," I joked, but my little
sister didn't buy it. I heard her sigh. "We've gone over this a hundred
times, Lizzy: no one's going to hire a discredited journalist, alright? I'm
happy enough where I am."

I
reminded myself of that fact when I unlocked the door to my apartment. I kicked
off my shoes and settled down in the office chair next to my dining room table.
The new semester's syllabus was laid out along with mountains of supporting
texts and articles. I opened my laptop and got back to work.

It
didn't matter how much I wanted to be a journalist again. That was over. Now I
was a college professor, and the money was good. My paycheck gave me enough to
send some to Liz each month. She needed help with medical school and I was
determined to keep my head down and my paychecks coming.

As
I added notes to my lecture topics, the image of dark-red, wavy hair and forest-green
eyes kept appearing. I wasn't working my dream job, but at least now I had the dean's
lovely daughter to help me get through the school year. For once, I was looking
forward to my first class early in the morning.

#

When
it came to students, I
only noticed what would help me remember their names. Wendell had round,
silver-rimmed glasses. Allison had short, spiky hair. Maurice had a tattoo on
the inside of his forearm. My first year at Landsman College, I learned
firsthand the dangers of noticing anything more about the students, especially
the attractive females. Now I focused on small details that would help me
recognize them throughout the semester.

I
unpacked my leather messenger bag and organized my introduction lecture notes. She
walked in and I knocked an entire folder on the floor. Luckily, the rest of the
lecture hall could not see me as I ducked down behind my desk.

Clarity's
sure steps faltered when she saw my face. I scowled up at her and swiped
together the loose papers. My class roster ended up on top and there she was:
Clarity Dunkirk, junior.

My
mind skipped back over our introduction and wondered where I went wrong. Had I
been so distracted by my instant attraction to her that I didn't hear who she
was? No, she had simply neglected to tell me two important facts. Clarity was
not only the Dean of Students' daughter, she was one of my students.

I
stood up and ignored her completely, which was easy because I couldn't see
anything but a red haze. I hated how Landsman College students were washed in privilege.
Clarity had probably thought flirting with me and then embarrassing me in class
was going to be a hilarious prank. I was just another employee serving up what
she wanted.

She
sat down in the center of the fourth row and I spent the rest of class pretending
she didn't exist. Clarity kept her eyes on her notebook and scribbled
diligently. Her hair was tied into a loose ponytail by a slim, black ribbon. The
bright focus in her emerald eyes separated her from the rest of the groggy and
slouching students.

After
running through the syllabus, explaining the large writing component of the
course, and completing my first lecture, I gathered up my things as quickly as
I could. By the time I had unplugged my laptop, most of the students had made a
beeline out the door towards the cafeteria for coffee and breakfast. A few
stragglers asked questions, and the then echoing lecture hall was quiet.

"Professor
Bauer?"

I
looked up at the pair of smiling students. "Yes?"

"I'm
Mindy, and this is my friend, Tonya. We just wanted to say that we're really
looking forward to your course this semester. It's great to have a professor
that's willing to teach us outside the classroom," Mindy batted her
eyelashes.

"Well,
you can't practice proper journalism in a vacuum. I have to help you get out to
community events so you can start digging up real leads," I said.

"We're
looking forward to it." Mindy giggled and posed in front of me until her
friend dragged her to the door.

"Professor
Bauer?"

I
swore under my breath. It bothered me that Clarity had seen the other students
flirting with me. "Yes, Ms. Dunkirk, is it?"

She
frowned and shifted from one foot to the other. "I need to apologize for
not explaining I was one of your students. I just, I, I enjoyed talking to you
like a regular adult," Clarity said. She squeezed her notebook to her
chest.

I
slammed my leather messenger bag closed and gritted my teeth. "No problem,
Ms. Dunkirk. I don't mind being reduced to some silly school girl fantasy just
so you can pretend to be mature."

I
held my breath and looked up, expecting tears. Instead I was met with a sharp,
jewel-hard glint in her eyes. Clarity batted back a few loose tendrils of her
dark red hair and straightened her shoulders.

"I'm
not a girl and I'm not immature, Professor Bauer. I was simply playing the good
hostess for my father and did not want to make you feel ill at ease," she
snapped.

My
whole body leapt to engage in a good argument. I had a feeling Clarity, whose
stance was anything but meek, would make a great sparring partner. Before I
could think better of it, I walked around the desk and stepped close to her.
 

Clarity
tipped her chin up to keep her hard glare on my eyes. She was about 5'7",
judging from where her the top of her head reached my chin. She didn't step back,
and her slender, athletic body was rigid with defiance.

 
"Ms. Dunkirk, I understand being the
daughter of the Dean of Students could give you a disproportioned sense of
entitlement, but in this classroom, there are strict boundaries. I am the
professor and you are a student. And, in no possible scenario, am I interested
in my students outside of Multimedia Production & Storytelling."

She
stepped back, but only to give me a scathing glance from head to toe. "I'm
sorry you got the wrong idea about me, Professor Bauer. It must be embarrassing
to have a student discover how rusty your journalistic inquiry skills have
become."

Clarity
marched around me and headed for the door. I admired her sharp tongue even as
the insult stung. She was fearless, and for a minute, I remembered her father
urging her to break out of her shell. That would be a sight to see. The idea of
helping Clarity find her passion was a hot match against the fuse of my already
smoldering attraction. I couldn't help myself and called out.

"Clarity."
She turned with a dagger-throwing glare. "Next time, don't bury the
lead."