Chapter 18 Aspen #2
Everyone who looked at me would know exactly where I’d had my mouth only two nights ago.
They’d glance into my eyes and see me slipping my hands over Noel’s biceps and into his hair.
I’d open my mouth and my voice would reflect all my guilt and shame.
I had kissed a student and taken him to my room, into my bed.
Just thinking that in my head felt so bizarre and unreal.
I was not that person. I would never do that.
Yet I had.
I fully understood all the paranoia was just that, junk in my brain I couldn’t shove out. But when Dr. Frenetti popped his head into my office first thing before I’d even taught my first class, I squeaked out my alarm and nearly peed my pants as I leapt to my feet.
“I just checked Gamble’s current grade online. Looks like he’s doing better already.”
Hearing Noel’s name right out of the gate like that didn’t help my anxiety. Heartbeat whooshing loudly through my ears, I could barely hear myself answer after I cleared my throat. “Y-yes, he...he did very well on the make-up paper I let him turn in.”
The dean lifted an eyebrow. “And he actually earned it?”
I blinked. What the hell kind of question was that? “Of course.”
Smile a little gloating, Frenetti gave a knowing nod. “That’s what I thought. He just needed a little time to warm up to the curriculum. I glanced over your syllabus, and it did look pretty strenuous.”
I turned my attention to my computer to keep from rolling my eyes. “Yes, well...it took a pretty intensive one-on-one session to finally get through to him.”
My face heated as soon as the words left my mouth.
God, did that sound like a sexual innuendo or what?
All I could think about was the intensive one-on-one session we’d had Saturday night.
In my bedroom. But my supervisor didn’t seem to notice any naughty meaning behind my words.
He nodded, pleased. “Good to hear it.” Then he disappeared before I had to bumble my way through any more mortifying dialogue.
Beyond grateful it wasn’t a Tuesday, so I wouldn’t be teaching his class, I skimmed over my lesson plans for the day until I was almost late to class.
Yet still, I felt utterly exposed when I stepped in front of the room.
Eyes turned to me, and I knew—just knew—they’d see everything.
Know everything. Each time a pair of students leaned toward each other to whisper conspiringly, I knew they were talking about what I’d done.
Every unexpected abrupt noise had me leaping out of my skin.
And every dark-haired guy I saw had my insides jarring with an instant adrenaline rush.
I hated it. This was too much drama, and I was not a drama seeker.
My muscles were so tense by the time I finished teaching for the day, I took a handful of painkillers as soon as I retreated to my haven.
Leaving my office door open, I collapsed into the chair behind my desk and closed my eyes, relieved it was over.
I’d survived one day, and no one seemed to know a thing.
“I would so not make it as a spy,” I muttered to myself.
Covering truths and pretending everything was fine and dandy wore the snot out of me. Like a ragged, limp doll, I just sat there, trying to recover my scattered senses.
And then someone tapped on my doorframe, giving me heart failure.
I yelped out an embarrassing girl-scream and jumped to my feet.
“Sorry.” Raising both hands in apology, Philip stepped into my office. His eyes begged forgiveness as he cringed. “It’s just me.”
I sank back into my chair, setting my hand over my heart. Wow, did I need to relax or what?
Seating himself across my desk from me, Philip drew in a deep breath before asking, “So, how much trouble am I in, and what can I do to get you to forgive me?”
Huh? Forgive him? “For what?” I asked dumbly before it hit me. Oh, Lord. I’d lost it. The date, of course.
“For Saturday?” he asked, looking uneasy.
Then he gave a nervous laugh and shifted in his chair.
“You don’t have to pretend it wasn’t a big deal.
I know I was unforgivably rude for not even phoning you, but something came up and I was called out of town, and.
..” He looked to be all out of excuses. The helpless expression remained as he finished, “What can I do to make this up to you?”
I was already shaking my head and waving my hand before I began talking. “Really, it’s okay.” I mean, I had my own guilty burden at the moment. Who was I to be holding anything against anyone else? “I’m sure your...uh, situation was unavoidable.”
Plus I kind of felt bad about already forgetting our date that never happened.
He blinked and straightened his back. “So...you forgive me? Just like that?” He arched an eyebrow and sent me an untrusting glance. “Really?”
His perplexity was adorable. I laughed. “If it makes you feel better, I could give you twenty lashes, but whips and chains aren’t really my thing.”
When his gaze turned heated with interest, I suddenly realized just how bad a double meaning those words had sounded.
God, why did I keep blurting out tawdry things today?
Head heavy from all the horrified blood rushing to my cheeks, I slapped my hand over my mouth before muffling out the exclamation, “Oh, my God. I just said that out loud, didn’t I? ”
Chuckling in delight, Philip inspected me from a pair of brown eyes glittering with approval. “I didn’t hear anything if you didn’t want me to.”
Clearing my throat and grasping for the last shred of my dignity, I dropped my hand and discreetly murmured, “Thank you.”
He nodded. “Does this mean we can try for another date again...soon?”
I opened my mouth, startled by the question. “Uh...I...Well, I’m not sure. You did stand me up and neglected to contact me again for two days.”
My naughty whip slip-up must’ve given him some confidence, though, because he merely winked. “I’ll give you some time to think about it, then. So...call me whenever you change your mind.”
I didn’t answer. He waved and turned away, sauntering from my office. I stared at the empty spot in my doorway where he’d vanished, chewing on my lip, unsure if I should give him a second chance or not. The man was pleasant enough with a good sense of humor and easy to talk to.
I’d never been good at the dating scene, so he would be an ideal choice of guy to go out with.
But he had stood me up. He’d abandoned me in a place where I’d felt completely uncomfortable, and I’d ended up making the worst mistake of my life because of it.
I should be totally pissed at him. I never would’ve drunk so much to ease my nerves if he’d asked to meet at a nice restaurant or a boring cocktail bar.
And I wouldn’t have let Noel Gamble drive me home if I’d been sober.
And I certainly wouldn’t have stuck my tongue down his throat and made out with him on my bed if he hadn’t driven me home.
Holy shit, I could blame this whole thing on Philip, couldn’t I?
Perfect. Except no, no, I couldn’t. I was too much one of those masochistic people who got off on taking all the blame for everything that happened in my life.
I’d gotten myself in this mess. And I couldn’t pin it on Philip Chaplain, no matter how nice that might temporarily feel. The lucky jerk.
But seriously, the idea of going on another date with him just didn’t.
..thrill me. I’d only been mildly interested the first time around.
And now, with all that worry about my father and worry about my job, and worry about Noel Gamble, no way would I be able to concentrate on Philip if we spent any more time together.
“Please don’t tell me that’s the douchebag who stood you up Saturday night? Dr. Chaplain? Really?”
I blinked, realizing I was staring right though a blurry figure standing in my doorway.
His voice hit me first. I knew exactly who’d come to my office before my gaze cleared enough to bring him into sharp, amazing focus.
Seeing him standing in the threshold of my office sent my nerves haywire. Lurching to my feet, I glanced wildly behind him, expecting to see Frenetti charging forward to fire me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed in way too guilty of a tone.
He stepped inside and shut the door, sending my heart crashing against my ribs in a panic, like a frightened bird desperate to escape its cage. I made a sound of denial in the back of my throat, but that was all I could manage.
“I came to talk about what happened...”
I gasped and crushed my hand to my heaving chest. He wouldn’t dare. Not here. Not about that.
“Between us,” he continued, “on Saturday night.”
Okay, so he dared.
But the worst part was how he looked as he dared.
I felt ragged and raw, unsettled to my very core.
And he looked utterly amazing. His dark hair remained fashionably messy as if he’d finger-combed it before leaving the house.
His blue eyes with that precious hint of lavender were bright and alert, full of vivacity.
And his body. Sweet mercy, I was freshly reminded how it had felt against mine, caging me to my bed as his mouth absolutely leveled me.
Rattled by the physical aspect of my attraction and unhinged over the fact he wanted to discuss the worst thing I’d ever done out in the open, in my office, I stared at him through eyes that refused to blink. But my vision went gray around the edges. God, I hoped I didn’t pass out.
Wait, maybe passing out would help me avoid this conversation. Would it be too childish to hold my breath right now?
“What’re your plans then, Mr. Gamble?” I demanded, horrified to realize I couldn’t control how quickly my breathing had picked up. “Blackmail me? Threaten to tell the administration that I came onto you in my drunken state if I don’t give you an A?”