To Professor, With Love (Forbidden Men 2)

I sighed and held out his essay I’d read last night. “I can’t accept this paper.”

His gaze lowered before lifting again. “Why not? Didn’t I get the meaning of the assignment this time?”

“You know why not,” I hissed. “You’re treading on dangerous ground here. You risk too much.”

His lips twitched as if this all amused him, as if there was nothing to worry about at all. “But you asked for an essay about how certain events change a person’s goals. And you just said, two minutes ago, there were no wrong answers. Didn’t I give you sufficient enough reason why I have the opinion and feelings I do?”

I did not like my own words used against me, but I did like how he’d been listening and soaking them in.

Grr. So not the point.

“You can’t just write something like that. What if someone else had gotten their hands on this and read it?”

He shrugged. “So what? I didn’t name you specifically.” But he had written about how someone who was forbidden to him had just come into his life and changed some of the major things he wanted. I had altered his hopes and dreams. It was frankly flattering to know I made him question what he really wanted out of his life and how the only thing holding him back from pursuing his newest dream was my security.

But he’d come right out and announced he wanted to date one of his teachers, writing the line: I stay away only because the consequences of fraternizing with a student are too g

reat for her.

“You actually wrote the word fraternize,” I accused.

He gave a wide, proud grin. “I know. I even shocked myself on that one. Good word, huh?”

“Noel.” I shook my head. He was impossible. Impossible! “I can’t accept this essay.”

“Okay, fine.” With a roll of his eyes, he blew out a harassed breath and slipped a stapled stack of papers from his messenger bag to set it on my desk. “How about this one, then?”

I glanced down, blinking at what looked like another essay. “Wha...?” I looked up at him, completely confused.

He winked. “I had a feeling you’d be demanding a different version. So, there it is, without a single word of what you do to me on any line.”

“You...you wrote two versions of your essay?” When he nodded, I shook my head, baffled. “Why?”

His blue eyes filled with an intense emotion that made my throat go dry. “Because I wanted you to know. I wanted you to understand.”

My heart wrenched in my chest as he turned away and walked from my classroom.

***

Okay, fine. I admit it. Noel Gamble’s freaking mock essay had gotten to me. So had that honest, seeking look in his eyes when he’d said I wanted you to understand.

He’d just placed the ball firmly in my court. And it was just too tempting not to leap toward it. So, there I was, doing something unspeakably crazy.

Forbidden was an apt name for this club, I decided. I knew I shouldn’t be in it, but a thrill of naughty anticipation danced over my scalp as I opened the front door and stepped inside. I couldn’t believe I was giving into this so easily, coming here in the hopes of maybe only catching a glimpse of him.

He probably didn’t even work tonight. God, I hoped not. I didn’t need anything else making me fall under his spell. I didn’t care how much I really did want to see him, even if it was just stolen little longing glances from across a room without him knowing I was there. I needed to nip this fascination in the bud.

Easier said than done.

He was the first thing I saw. Being a Tuesday evening, the place was a lot less crowded than it had been the last time I’d been here. So I had a straight shot, wide-open view to the bar in the back. Blue fluorescent lights sprayed down on his dark hair, and the black cloth of his T-shirt looked especially nice stretching across his wide, thick shoulders.

A pinch in my chest had me sucking in a breath. He was busy, absorbed in his work, setting up a row of shots. His hands were fluid and graceful as he flipped over each glass with adept speed and then poured his way down the line. Everything about him was so freaking captivating. When he sprawled in his seat during class, doodling in his notebook with lazy strokes as if he wasn’t paying attention to a thing I taught. When he directed his team on the field, calling plays and pointing out commands to his teammates. And definitely when he played Tom Cruise from Cocktail.

My parents would disown me if they knew how much I loved eighties movies. But I didn’t care. I’d always had a thing for bartenders because of that one. I liked them almost as much as I’d been drawn to football players.

This was bad; he sucked me in way too easily. I should go. He hadn’t seen me come in. I still had a chance to escape before he noticed I’d turned into a total creeper. But, nope, I didn’t budge.

A waitress approached me and tried to take my order, but I waved her off with a smile and shake of my head. And returned to my stalking.