Forbidden Men Book 2: To Professor, with Love

“She looked at nice young men as if she could smell their stupidity.” — Flannery O’Connor, Good Country People

ASPEN

I can’t say I was surprised to hear Noel Gamble call me a bitch. I would’ve been shocked if he’d actually defended me.

No, really, she’s an amazing teacher; I’ve learned so much from her. I feel as if her impact on my life has helped improve the quality of who I am as a person.

Yeah, that was never going to happen.

Still. His insult—even expected as it was—stung. The sound I made was unplanned. It just sort of tore through my chest and gurgled from my throat in a pained choke.

When Gamble and his little disciple swung around, I felt caught in the act, even though I’d done nothing wrong. An embarrassing heat flooded my limbs. Wanting to die before I let him see me hurt, I schooled my features as tightly as possible, reining in my expression as I arched a silent eyebrow.

“Let me guess,” I murmured coolly, or at least in a tone I hoped sounded glacially chilled, as if I didn’t care about his opinion, because the last thing I wanted him to think was that I cared...about him. “You’re a little put out about the grade you received on your paper today.”

His powder blue, almost periwinkle, eyes went flint hard as they narrowed. “You know, it’s like you can read my mind, Dr. Kavanagh.”

He didn’t look apologetic for being caught bashing me. He didn’t sound embarrassed. He didn’t even pretend to feel an iota of remorse. He merely looked pissed. I wondered if he’d known all along I’d been walking behind him and he’d wanted me to hear his insult.

Next to him, the football player who took Introduction to Literature from me jerked a step away, disassociating himself from his beloved quarterback. Smart boy.

Faking a gracious smile, I nodded to my nemesis. “Well, maybe when you receive your PhD, you’ll obtain the fine art of telepathy too, Mr. Hot Shot Quarterback.”

His baby blues sizzled with loathing as his jaw shifted when he clenched his teeth. We both knew his academic achievements would never climb so high; he was only here because of football. In fact, I bet if I checked his records, I’d find something like basket weaving as his major. But Gamble was a fighter. He refused to lie down and take my verbal punches.

“If getting a doctorate turned me into a raging bitch who flunked undeserving underclassmen for no reason whatsoever, then I’d just as soon pass. Thanks.”

Notching my chin high, I scowled right back. “Like I said in class, if you have any questions about your score, you can always discuss it with me. I’m in my office every day from three to five, available to speak with any serious-minded pupil.”

From the distaste in his gaze, I knew he’d never go anywhere near my office. Thank God. Being closed inside my cramped little workspace alone with him would send me into a panic—literally, as in short-of-breath, need a paper bag to breathe into, full-scale panic attack. He reminded me way too much of Zach.

What was worse, he even affected me the same way Zach initially had. I loathed the way his gorgeous eyes made my body heat with all kinds of inappropriate responses, just as much as I hated how the curve of his lips made me want to touch my own mouth, wondering what the two would feel like straining together. Most of all, I detested how I’d never gotten over my high school obsession of fixating myself on the lead jock.

It must be some internal, natural selection thing I couldn’t control. Survival of the fittest lured me into gravitating toward the strongest, healthiest, most attractive male in the pack who seemed most appropriate for reproduction of the species. After watching those two sluts maul him after class a few minutes ago, I knew he had to be good for some scintillating reproductive activities.

“Maybe I will,” he murmured.

And Lord above, even his voice affected me. It caused something low in my abdomen to clench and then buzz. Like the silent vibration of a doorbell. Ding dong, anyone home? Want to come out and play?

God, why did my body want to play with this asshole in any way, shape, or form? Hadn’t my first disaster with a star football player during my senior year of high school taught me anything? He was exactly the kind of person I needed to stay as far away from as possible.

And why was I attracted to a student, anyway? A student!

It didn’t matter that we were practically the same age; he was still an undergrad. The entire attraction was completely unethical. And I had always been ethical. Professional. Hell, I’d come out of the womb proficient at calm, sensible, and orderly. I had followed every rule and policy to a T. No one, and I mean no one, knocked my world askew the way those freaking football hotties did.

This was exactly why boys who sent my insides haywire pissed me off. Big time.

“Then I guess I’ll see you in my office later today,” I challenged and immediately veered off the sidewalk to march away from him. I was going in the wrong direction now, but I didn’t care. I had to escape.

Gamble’s derisive snort followed me, telling me he knew I was running scared. The arrogant douche thought he was all that just because he was an athlete, a treasured football star. Okay, so everyone on campus treated him that way, from students to teachers and even the president of the university. To them, Noel Gamble could do no wrong. To me, he still couldn’t write a decent English essay to save his life.

But I didn’t want to think about him anymore. Blocking all things blue-eyed and cretin from my brain, I marched on. After growing up with my parents, I’d mastered the small talent of shoving away unsettling thoughts. And I was particularly grateful for the technique now.

Thinking of the book I’d begun this morning, I focused on where I was going. Since I was headed in the direction of the student union and had an hour to spare before my next class, I decided not to head out to my car to fetch my jacket as I’d originally planned because I’d been chilled in the classroom, where it felt as if I’d been standing directly under the air handlers. I popped into the union and bought a sandwich and cappuccino from the food court.

It was an unseasonably sunny day, so I ate on a bench, warming myself under an oak tree where the spring air was coaxing a wealth of green buds to sprout among its branches. I liked how pockets of sunshine stole through the limbs and splashed warm puddles of color in the grass around me.

Comforted by the cozy umbrella of shadow and light, I pulled out my Kindle and took up reading the story I’d started before leaving for work today. A hopeless romantic, I was currently devouring everything by Jennifer L. Armentrout.

Two chapters and half of my ham and cheese sandwich later, just when I’d decided Alex had to hook up with Aiden soon, my cell phone buzzed from my briefcase I was using as a makeshift table. It took me a few seconds to sweep it clean of food, crumbs, and ereader before I could snap the lid open and check my caller ID. When I saw my parents’ names on the screen, my stomach clenched.

I cleared my throat and took a deep breath before answering. I could do this. I could do this. I could do this. “Hello?”

“Hello, Aspen.” Just hearing my mother’s voice, frigid and businesslike as always, made my heart thump hard in my chest with a combination of hope and intimidation. “As you know, your father had his last treatment this morning.”

Swallowing the suddenly dry piece of bread I’d been chewing, I nodded. “Yes, I...I was going to call after my last class today. How did it go?”

In the past two years, my father had needed to get three toes amputated. His diabetes had progressed so badly he’d just finished a six-week stint of oxygen therapy, visiting a hyperbaric chamber twice a day to heal from a nasty gash he’d gotten on his calf. If the sore hadn’t healed after his last treatment this morning, his doctor wanted to take his leg next, from the knee joint down.

Holding my breath for the prognosis, I waited tensely for my mother to answer. “They want to extend his therapy another two weeks.”

I exhaled a lungful of air. “Well, that’s...that’s good.” Right? At least they weren’t ready to pull out the ol’ saw and start chopping off limbs yet.

“Really?” My mother’s tone suggested she was frowning with her usual pinched-eyebrow expression.

Oh, shit. Maybe that wasn’t so good.

“And how is this good, Aspen? Your father’s health is still at risk, and you’re…rejoicing?”

I flushed. Even at twenty-three and living eight hundred miles from home, teaching at a top-notch university, I still gave her the power to render me into a blubbering moron with a single question.

“I...” Fumbling blindly, I used my napkin to pat my face free of stray crumbs. My palms began to sweat, so I rubbed them dry, too. “I just meant—”

“Stop being facetious. Your attempt at humor is completely uncouth and disrespectful. This is nothing to jest about.”

“But I didn’t mean...” Biting my lip, I hung my head, wishing my hair were down so I could conceal the tears glistening in my eyes. God, why did words to defend myself always fail me when Dr. Mallory Kavanagh attacked? “Yes, you’re right,” I murmured. “I apologize.”

She sniffed in irritation. Not quite a pardon. “I just knew studying that rubbish literature would transform you into some kind of vulgar imbecile. You should’ve listened to us when we tried to steer you toward theoretical physics. Something sensible and worthwhile.”

Studying literature had been my one great rebellion, and neither of my parents had ever forgiven me for it. Briefly, I’d been tempted to appease them by going into the sciences, but I’d never been able to betray my devotion to the written word. And the one thing I hadn’t acquiesced to had led to their eternal scorn.

If it had been up to me, I would’ve been satisfied with a bachelor’s degree in English. I would’ve been fine sharing my love of stories with first graders. But I’d gone all the way through a doctorate program to mollify Richard and Mallory.

It didn’t seem to matter what I did, though. Neither of my parents had ever been “proud” of my accomplishments. They had never shown approval. They had always pushed for something bigger and better.

But their constant disapproval was becoming tiresome. For once, I wished I could simply be good enough in their eyes.

Sadly, today obviously wasn’t going to be that day.

“One would think with your degree, you’d be able to master what words come from your mouth with a little more respect and decorum.”

“Again, I’m sorry. I—”

“Apologies are for the flawed, Aspen. Stop highlighting your imperfections.” She let out a disgusted breath. “I’ll update you on your father’s prognosis again when I deem it necessary.”

She disconnected the line before I could get in another word.

“Crap,” I muttered. Who knew how long it would be before she stooped to call me again? I knew she wouldn’t answer if I tried to patch back through to her with an eloquent apology that didn’t actually sound like the apology of a “flawed, imbecile” daughter.

I just hoped she’d be merciful enough to keep me updated about my father.

This time when I lifted my napkin, I dabbed the base of my lashes instead of my mouth. I had another class to teach in fifteen minutes; I didn’t want to show up with wet, swollen eyes or a runny nose. If my parents had taught me anything, it was that a dignified image meant everything.

But damn it, I wished I knew why I always let my mother’s words get to me. I should’ve expected her chilly, impersonal, and condescending treatment by now. Yet I still ached for a little nugget of affection from both of my parents. Ninety percent of everything I did was to win their love. But I couldn’t give up trying. Because honestly, if a girl couldn’t get her own family to care about her, who would?

After putting my cell phone and e-reader away, I clasped my briefcase closed and brushed stray crumbs off my lap. Acting as if nothing whatsoever was bothering me, I tossed the rest of my lunch and returned to the English department to finish my last two classes for the day.

The afternoon dragged by, and more than once, I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep from thinking about the conversation I’d had with my mother. The good news was it diverted my mind from a certain blue-eyed cretin I wanted to hate.

Except I should’ve known he’d find a way to steal back into my day. After all, blue-eyed cretins had a way of doing that.

By three ten, I entered the sanctuary of my office. Pausing in the doorway, I breathed in the scent of old books lining the walls, which immediately helped loosen my tight muscles. My briefcase slid neatly into the nook between my desk and the wall where I always kept it, and my rump sank into the cushion of my chair. Then and only then did I let out a small moan of delight.

Home.

Some might consider it sad and pathetic that one of the two places I felt at home was tucked away in my cramped office at the university, but I didn’t care. At least I finally had a place that felt welcoming. So I embraced it.

Booting up my computer, I chewed on a fingernail as I waited for my welcome screen to pop up and ask for my password.

Just as it did, a knock came at the opened door of my office. For the briefest moment, my heart leapt into my throat. But dear God, if Noel Gamble had actually accepted my invitation to talk about his essay this afternoon, I was going to have heart failure. He couldn’t invade my safe haven. My home. He just couldn’t.

I almost passed out from relief when I saw the dean of the English department framed in the doorway instead. Thank God.

“Dr. Frenetti.” I sprang to my feet, brushing my bangs out of my eyes. “Please come in.”

He stepped into the room. “Dr. Kavanagh,” he greeted with a tight nod before he got straight to his point. “I hear you’re giving Noel Gamble a hard time?”

Oh, good God, you had to be kidding me.

I’m not sure what was worse—Noel Gamble visiting my office, or someone concerned about Noel Gamble visiting my office. I just wanted to escape everything that was Noel Gamble.

Shaking my head, I offered Dr. Frenetti a tense, confused smile. “Where did you hear that?”

“His coach contacted me today.”

My teeth ground together. What do you know; the arrogant douche had whined to someone about me. Why was I not surprised?

Dr. Frenetti’s face showed some serious disapproval, and unfortunately, he already had one of those faces that looked condemning without any help. With a large, flat nose, permanent frown wrinkles marring his forehead, and fleshy jowls that sagged with outright censure, he looked positively reproachful as he scowled.

Ignoring the urge to slink back into my seat and start apologizing for my failures, I forced a stiff nod. This was about Noel Gamble’s shortcomings, not mine. Still, it felt as if I was confessing a sin when I answered, “He’s not doing well, no.”

Without waiting for my invitation, Dr. Frenetti seated himself in the chair opposite mine and left me standing uneasily in front of him. I shifted a step, uncertain if I should sit too. It was a good thing I finally did because what he said next left me too weak-kneed to remain upright.

“I had my doubts when the board hired you, Aspen. Someone so young and inexperienced...” He shook his head and sighed. “I knew it would cause problems. But the reference your old professor gave us was impeccable. She spoke so highly of you I hoped it would all work out. Except I’m not sure you quite understand the gravity that flunking this student would have. We were undefeated this season until the playoffs. And you might not see it yet, but football is the backbone of this university.”

Oh, I saw it all right. I just didn’t see how that should affect my grading.

“The sooner everyone in the entire English department realizes it, the better. If the team gets the divisional championship next year, our recruiting power goes through the roof, which means more students taking more English courses and more money coming in, hence a better chance for pay raises...bonuses. In essence, you’re helping yourself and everyone on campus if you help this boy. He’s the key to a better university, Aspen. His passing grades are the only thing keeping him here. He absolutely cannot lose his scholarship.”

I had to pinch my leg to keep myself from rolling my eyes. But seriously? One guy—who wrote really sucky essays—was the key to everything? Drama much, old man?

Overdramatic speech or not, my poor little ears rang with shock. I had realized from the very day I’d come here that sports on campus trumped everything else, but to hear the English department Dean speak so candidly about it disappointed me. What about an honest grade? Integrity? Education?

I silently counted to ten before speaking. “So, you’re telling me to pass him no matter how badly he’s truly failing?”

“Of course not.” With an irritated huff, the dean frowned and pinched his flabby lips together. They looked like two pink pancakes, one stacked on top of the other. “But I’m certain there’s something you can do to make him not fail. You’re a teacher. For God’s sake, ~teach the boy~.”

Oh, no, he did not. No one questioned my teaching abilities. “I am! Dr. Frenetti, I—”

“Well, obviously you’re not doing it well enough if he isn’t picking up the curriculum. Yours is the only class he’s failing. Why is that?”

Probably because every other lemming professor on campus was passing him, no matter how awful he was actually doing. Maybe they’d already received the same lecture I was currently getting.

“I...” I shook my head, and my face heated to a scorching degree.

How dare he? How dare he make this my fault? I couldn’t even defend myself. Being the newest faculty member on campus, I couldn’t exactly go complaining to anyone about him, either, without risking my job. Besides, who the hell would I know to complain to that didn’t share his skewed opinions?

God, I hated that I could never defend myself against anyone.

“Aspen, I’m concerned about you.”

I wanted to slap him. The jerk wasn’t concerned about me. And I didn’t appreciate his phony tactic to get through to me. Questioning my abilities as a teacher had pissed me off enough.

Folding his hands together, he leaned forward. “I don’t want anyone to hold anything against you if it’s your fault Gamble loses his scholarship and has to drop out. After a few years here, when you try to get tenured—which is something I know you want since you’ve already mentioned it to me—you’ll need the other faculty members to go to bat for you. They won’t if you single-handedly ruin our first real chance in twenty years to win a divisional football championship.”

Ice ran through my veins. And here came the threatening tactics. Wow, he wasn’t going to pull a single punch, was he?

Rubbing my forehead, I nodded my humble compliance. “I understand.”

“Good. I hoped you would. Now I’d like you to—”

A knock on the door interrupted us.

Great. I wondered who it could be now. My guess was the Grim Reaper coming to take my damn soul away. When I glanced toward the doorway, though, I wished it had been the Grim Reaper, because he could’ve at least put me out of my misery.

Noel Gamble’s presence only added to it.

“Well.” Managing to look surprised, Frenetti popped to his feet and grinned engagingly at the new arrival. “Hey there, Noel. What a pleasant surprise.”

I rolled my eyes and then flushed when Noel glanced my way and caught my immature response to Frenetti’s brown-noser greeting.

“I really enjoyed that last showdown against South Central,” Frenetti was telling him. “The pass you threw at the end and won the game was amazing. I swear you were going to get sacked.”

Noel gazed at the older man a second. Then he flashed a quick glance my way before turning back to the dean. “Well...I did get sacked as soon as the ball left my hand.”

“But you still got it into the end zone and into your receiver’s hands. That’s all that mattered. And what was that, anyway? A thirty-yard pass?”

“Forty-two yards.”

Frenetti whistled. “Quite an arm you have there, son.”

Noel nodded respectfully. “Thank you, sir.” He glanced at me again. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, no.” Frenetti—the ass—answered for me. “Come on in. I’m sure you and Dr. Kavanagh have plenty to discuss. So I’ll leave you to it.”

Wait? What? We did?

The dean sent me a speaking glance before shutting me inside my office...alone...with Noel Gamble. The walls instantly closed in around us and my chest followed suit, squeezing in around my lungs until I was sure I’d asphyxiate any second. I could almost feel phantom hands holding me down and covering my mouth as a strong body pinned me to the backseat of his car.

“Who was that guy?” Noel asked, turning away from the closed door to send me a perplexed glance.

He in no way acted as if he was about to attack, so I forced oxygen through my clenched teeth, calming my racing nerves. Then I narrowed my eyes, wondering if he really had no idea who Frenetti was or if he was trying to play me. Finally, I shrugged, figuring it didn’t matter if he was acting out a role or if he was honestly here under his own steam. Either way, I was going to have to “work with him,” as Frenetti had put it.

“That was Dr. Frenetti,” I said. “He’s the dean of the English department.” When Noel only blinked, his expression blank of understanding, I sighed impatiently. “He’s my boss.”

“Oh. So, how’d he know who I was?”

I think it was the fury igniting in me that kept me from exploding into a ball of mushy panic, because suddenly, I no longer cared about being alone in a small room with this man. And I no longer worried about how I was going to catch my next breath. I only wondered how hard it would be to sneak a dead body out of here and dispose of it for good.

“Who doesn’t know who you are, Mr. Gamble?”

His nostrils flared as he drew in a breath. I could actually see him rein in his temper as he worked his jaw and focused on the keyboard on the top of my desk. His calming process must’ve worked, because the only thing he said to me was, “Right.” Then he glanced at the chair Frenetti had abandoned but didn’t sit down. “So, uh…I came to talk to you about my last paper if you have a minute.” He cocked me a smirk. “Like you said I should.”

I nodded, not making eye contact. “Well, apparently, I better make a minute for you since my boss just threatened my job if you were put on academic probation because of me.”

“He did?” Noel looked genuinely shocked as he glanced toward the doorway where Dr. Frenetti had been standing. Squinting in confusion, he swung back. “Why would he do that?”

I closed my eyes briefly. “Why do you think, Mr. Forty-Two Yards?”

His face reddened. It was hard to tell if the color came from anger, shock, humiliation, guilt, embarrassment, or what. Clenching his teeth, he bit out, “I didn’t go to anyone to complain if that’s what you’re implying.”

It really didn’t matter if he had or hadn’t. I’d gotten my warning regardless. Now I had to behave by the Man’s stupid, unfair rules.

But no one said I couldn’t take my anger out on the student I was being forced to pass.

“You know, I find it ironic that you’re the one writing subpar assignments and ~I’m~ the one getting a slap on the hand for it.”

If Noel Gamble had feathers, I swear they would’ve ruffled. He looked so affronted I actually wanted to cheer on my ability to piss him off. “Look, I’m not asking for special treatment just because your boss happens to like the way I play ball.”

“And yet you’ll be getting it anyway, despite both our wishes.”

“You know what? Fuck you. You told me to come here if I needed help. So here I am. But you obviously don’t want to help me. So, thanks so much for your worthless time.”

When he turned away, I panicked. Pissing off the dean of the English department during my first semester as a professor would not bode well for my future. I had to soothe Noel Gamble’s ruffled feathers. Now.

Clenching my teeth, I surged to my feet and muttered, “Gamble, sit down.”

“Hell no.” Without pausing, he yanked open the door and lifted a hand to send me a jerky, middle-finger wave of dismissal over his shoulder. “Excuse me for bothering you, Professor.”

Damn it, he and I would both be screwed if he walked out that door.

“Do you want to pass my class or not?”

Finally, he paused and glanced back. When I caught the glint of vulnerability and stubborn pride in his tense expression, I melted. Shit, why’d he have to go and do something human like that? Strong, obstinate people who slipped up and showed a weakness always melted me like sugar in warm water.

“Sit down,” I murmured in a quiet, apologetic voice. Motioning toward the chair, I more calmly added, “Please.”

Jaw knitted hard, he closed his eyes and muttered something unintelligible under his breath before he re-shut the door and slouched low into the chair with a petulant glare. Drumming his fingers impatiently on his jean-clad knee, he lifted an eyebrow, silently saying, Well? Teach me already.

I had no idea how I was going to accomplish this, but I was determined to make Noel Gamble earn the passing grade I was being forced to give him.