Shuttered Affections (Cornerstone #1) (2 page)

I cocked an eyebrow and looked at him sideways as I brought
attention to the piles of prints in my arms. “Photography,” I answered with a
derisive tone to my voice—as if the camera hanging off my shoulder and
the portfolios weren’t evidence enough. I gave him a break though. He was
probably just trying to make conversation.

There goes that
snarkey attitude as a first impression again, Julia!

I attempted a polite smile to smooth over my previous snide
answer.

“Oh, cool. I’m headed to the graphic arts computer lab,
which I believe is just upstairs from the photography lab, right?” he asked as
he lifted his chin in the direction we were headed.

He looked cute with both hands shoved in his cargo shorts,
short, dark hair, slightly longer on the top and trimmed nicely on the sides,
and those eyes… dark, beautiful, big brown eyes.

I nodded to answer his question and just smiled, bringing my
attention back to where I was going. Gawking at him was going to make me trip
over my own feet if I wasn’t careful. Or maybe run into one of the big pillars
that lined the outdoor hallways between the buildings. That would’ve been truly
embarrassing.

Usually, I had a tendency to become extremely nervous around
strange men, especially if they showed an interest in me. I had no desire to
become involved with anyone and therefore tried to keep my distance.

To my surprise, Vic didn’t make me feel nervous. Well, not
with fear like I usually experienced.

It only took us about a minute before we were walking
through the glass double doors of building P.

“Thanks for your help, Vic. Hopefully we’ll see each other
around?”

I turned around to look for his answer to my question, but
when I glanced at him, he had a look of disappointment and a little anger on
his face.

After I realized he was unresponsive, I leaned down slightly
to get his attention and bring him back to planet earth. In response, he ran
his long fingers behind his neck and shifted uncomfortably.

 
“Uh… yeah. See
ya,” he mumbled, then walked back out the glass double doors and rounded the
corner quickly, heading toward the outside staircase.

Well, that was odd. My first-impression disorder probably
made him change his mind about me. I thought for sure he would ask me out, or
at least attempt to get my number.

No time to think about the uncomfortable departure though,
because I was already going to be disrupting class as it was.

Quietly and carefully, I eased the classroom door open and
slithered through the small opening before hustling to my usual stool around
the large lab table.

The photography lab was one of my favorite classrooms.

To the right of the classroom doors was Mr. Barnes’ private office,
where he kept his personal equipment and student records. His big desk was
straight ahead along with several iMacs and digital photo printers set up as
stations along the backside wall where thin, tall windows brought in just a
hint of sunshine. To the left was the classroom seating area, several large lab
sinks, and the door to the hallway leading to the darkrooms and other lab
facilities.

Instead of individual desks, we all gathered around a large,
high-top lab table in the center of the room.

Advanced Photography was a smaller size than the usual
college classes because it was such a specific subject, not to mention
expensive when it came to equipment and supplies. There were only fourteen students
in this class, which made for a very intimate and competitive learning
environment. But the competition between classmates wasn’t malicious in any
way. We thrived off each other, using our different talents and experiences as
inspiration for one another. The healthy competition motivated us all and made
us strive to do our best.

“Thank you for joining us, Ms. Petersen. Since you are now
ten minutes tardy, I will need to see you after class,” a silky, seductive
voice said just as I attempted a beeline for my seat, making me jump and look
up in surprise.

My heart pounded in my head and I felt all the blood
completely leave my body. In front of the class stood my parking-spot thief.

“His gray eyes were dancing with serious
amusement—such a walking contradiction.”

The man casually standing in front of the class was so young
and attractive—very attractive—infuriatingly attractive.

He was still wearing that smug grin while leaning his ass
against the desk. His arms crossing over his chest caused his muscles to strain
against the white, button-up shirt he so casually wore. His black slacks
trailed down his long legs as he overlapped one ankle on the other and lounged
against the sturdy piece of furniture.

What I wouldn’t give
to be that desk right now.

All I could do was nod and blink rapidly, my eyes matching
my heart rate. I definitely didn’t trust my voice as irritation and
embarrassment began to boil beneath my skin.

I wanted to glare at him with a venomous look so he knew of
my distaste for his lack of parking courtesy. But seeing as he was my new
professor and, seriously, the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen, I just kept my
head down. In a daze, I took my seat quickly.

Crossing my arms around myself, I attempted not to look as
upset and uncomfortable as I felt.

Glancing up in his direction to see why he hadn’t continued
talking, I realized he was still staring at me.
 
Crawling further into my hole, I quickly looked away, burying
my chin in my chest. Noticing my cleavage was as obvious as two watermelons
popping out of my shirt, I hid my grin as I comprehended what he was actually
staring at.

Figures.

Even though I was angry, I couldn’t help but replay the
sound of his warm voice—my last name rolling and dripping off his tongue,
like he was licking sweet ice cream.

Oh, knock it off,
Julia.

I knew we would have a new professor that day. The faculty
change wasn’t surprising.

Mr. Barnes, my beloved photography teacher for the past year
and a half, told us he was retiring from teaching due to medical reasons.

In a private meeting with him over a month ago, he informed
me he was suffering from stage IV Lymphoma. He had been fighting the cancer for
quite some time, but was losing the battle. He explained how tired and sick he
felt all the time and how much he was truly going to miss teaching photography,
but that he missed spending time with his wife even more. If he was going to
spend the last of his days battling this disease, he wanted to do it by her
side.

Mr. Barnes was a rugged, biker type on the exterior, but
once we all got to know him, we knew he was a big softie who loved his job, his
students, and above all else, photography. He had long, gray hair pulled into a
small ponytail at the nape of his neck and a gray goatee rimming his lips and
chin. His attire often consisted of jeans, t-shirt, and a leather vest with
various buttons on it, showing pride in the places he had visited on his
motorcycle. He’d recently shaved all his hair off completely and I knew it was
because of the cancer treatments.

Oh, I was going to miss him.

The infuriating, yet striking, man standing at the front of
the class rambled on about how he planned to work with Mr. Barnes electronically
to make sure the class stayed as close to the original syllabus as possible.

With medium-toned skin, his body was a perfect combination
of height and muscle. It seemed he spent some time in the sun by the looks of
his dirty blond hair with different shades and highlights. His hair wasn’t
necessarily neat, but uneven and free. I wanted to run my hands through each
strand and feel the texture beneath my fingers.

I was only half listening as he explained his sincere
apologies for the reason behind Mr. Barnes’ sudden departure and how he planned
to make the transition on us as easy as possible without letting it affect our
learning. He likely had no idea just how much Mr. Barnes meant to me. No words
from a stranger could make me feel any better about losing my mentor—my
friend.

I was somewhat dazed when he took that moment to approach
the entire group.

Even though there were two empty stools mingled around the
table, he ended up dragging a stool from the side of the room and settled
himself next to my left, plunking his elbows down on the tabletop, and propping
his chin in his palms.

He was too close for comfort. Chill bumps crawled up my
spine and my mind went confusingly blurry. He was so good looking and smelled
divine. A mixture of light cologne and rugged man assaulted my senses. But I
was also very aware of how freaking annoyed I was at him for what he did to me
earlier.

Didn’t teachers get special parking anyway? Why did he have
to mooch a parking space in the student lot?

He was going around the table, asking each one of the
students to introduce themselves and explain what subject matter they most liked
to photograph, as well as what film and medium they preferred. This was a
traditional photography class where we used SLR cameras with film and developed
ourselves in the darkroom. So, his requests were valid.

Even though we all knew these answers about each other, he
needed to know more about our personal preferences and about us in general. It
seemed he had ulterior motives to the class-wide interview session, but I had
no desire to figure him out. At least, that was what I kept telling myself.

I became a bit antsy as I listened to each of my classmates
speak, knowing full well it would be my turn soon, and I was not completely
positive I would be able to speak to the man just yet. I needed to get control
of myself. Show no fear.

Deep breaths, Julia.

To distract myself from the nerves that were taking over my
body, I decided to let my mind wander.

One of the things I loved about college was the diverse
people I got to work with every day. Not only diverse ethnicities, but also a
rather large scale of different age groups. While most of my classmates were in
their early to mid-twenties like me, there were the occasional few that decide
to come back to college at a later age.

In that particular class, I had the pleasure of bonding with
an older lady, Maddy. At the age of fifty-two, Maddy decided to take a few
courses, just to broaden her horizons and learn a few new things. Maddy very
quickly became a dear friend of mine, despite our thirty-year age difference.

Maddy sat to my right and I could tell she sensed my unease
because she kept checking on me with sideways glances.

He was still too close.

I could hear each breath that pulled in and out of his full
lips. I could hear each time he tapped his finger against his jaw. I could
smell his scent—clean linen, cologne, and rugged man. I could feel his
leg bouncing under the table as he propped his foot on the slats beneath the
stool, his other foot planted securely on the linoleum floor.

It unnerved me to know a man’s presence had such a powerful
effect over me—my body—my thoughts.

He paid close attention to each student as they went around
the table, nodding and commenting appropriately to their speeches.

I felt him shift, turning slightly, as the next student, who
was only a few seats away from me, began their introduction. My cheeks reddened
with the knowledge he had to practically look through me to see my classmate
who was speaking. There was no way I could sit there calmly while he stared in
my direction.

In an attempt to get out of his line of sight, I shifted
back in my stool marginally. Reacting to my movement, he brought his hand to my
back as if he wanted to brace me and keep me put. As his fingers touched the
small of my back, I felt an odd, exhilarating shiver run up my spine.

Such a feeling over a simple touch should not be possible. It
was like a million tiny fireflies scalded my insides, leaving me breathless as
his fingers grazed just above my ass.

He kept his hand on my back for a lingering moment before
removing it and placing it flat on the black tabletop. My stomach was doing
summersaults and I felt my pulse through my entire body. The voices around me
were completely drowned out with the sound of the blood thumping through my
ears.

Looking down at the table, I noticed his hand was shaking
ever so slightly. There was no way I affected him that much. I didn’t want to
have an effect on him. It must’ve been nerves on his first day teaching. It had
to be.

As I was beginning to calm slightly, I noted Maddy was
plowing through her introduction, which meant I was next. She flicked her silken,
gray hair back behind her shoulder and looked at him as she continued
explaining her skills.

My nausea came back and my pulse began to race again as
Maddy finished up her speech. Speaking in front of people was always a bit of a
challenge for me, but knowing I had to speak kindly to this man, who had
bombarded my mind with a mixture of anger and lust, made my anxiety take over
with a vengeance.

Steeling myself, I took a long, strengthening breath through
my nose, begging my voice to cooperate long enough for me to muddle through. With
a slight hesitation, I finally began my introduction to our new teacher.

“My name is Julia Petersen. I am majoring in fine arts with
a focus on sculpture. I personally enjoy photographing black and white infrared
landscapes on cotton rag, but occasionally enjoy the task of shooting infrared
portraits in the studio as well.” I smiled, thankful I didn’t stutter, and
looked down at my hands.

I could tell my parking-spot thief was a bit shocked with my
choice of film because he just stared at me for a moment too long for comfort. I
felt his gaze blazing through my skin. All the other students were silent as he
sat there staring at me. He was so quick to respond to each student with
constructive comments, yet here he sat, just staring at me like I had three
heads.

Did he recognize me from the parking lot?

Eventually, I braved a glance in his direction and he seemed
to be studying me before he began to speak.

“Julia, what do you find so enjoyable about working with
black and white infrared?” My name rolled off his tongue and gave me a new set
of chill bumps all over my already sensitive skin.

He steepled his fingers against his mouth and looked at me.
His gray eyes were dancing with serious amusement—such a walking
contradiction.

Because I sat there with stunned confusion on my face, he
took a quick intake of breath, pulled his fingers away from his sexy lips, and
continued, “I mean, the only reason I ask is because infrared is quite
difficult to photograph properly and capture the full essence of the subject,
not to mention the process of developing is a bit more tedious. Is it the
challenge you enjoy, Juliana?”

My full name spilling from his lips caught me off guard. Heat
pooled in my gut as I thought of all the possibilities and innuendoes that
could be formed from his words.

His voice sounded so seductive, I had to do a double take at
his expression. His gaze was smoldering, burning a deep hole through me.

And, damn it, I blushed.

“Uhm… well…” I stammered.

Shuffling noises from the other students as they gathered
their things and began to stand interrupted me. I internally praised the time
displayed on the clock, which saved me from my embarrassing stutter.

Then realization hit me…

I had another class with Mr. parking-spot thief right now.