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A quick grin sneaked out from his guarded features, but he reined it back in so fast I questioned if it had happened. “No, I suppose it wasn’t.” He didn’t offer anything after that, so silence ballooned between us.
He stood from his much more comfortable chair, and I automatically rose as well. Apparently, our noninterview was over, and I was being dismissed.
“A word of advice, Ms. Farsey,” Dr. Chaplin began, and I raised a brow with curiosity about what he had to offer. “If you do accept the position”—he paused until I nodded—“leave the boyfriend at home.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said for the second time, knowing full well the man didn’t care what my response was. But my upbringing automatically kicked in, and I offered him my hand to shake. “Thank you for the opportunity. I’ll be in touch.”
There was no way I would walk out of that office like a scolded puppy. I felt triumphant to have had the last word. But my bravado crumbled when the door clapped shut right behind me as I left.
My whole body trembled, and I was furious with myself for letting that guy get under my skin. I was even more frustrated with the man himself for acting like such a dick. If he didn’t like me, why personally choose me for the spot? Did I really want to spend the next ten weeks in an uncomfortable environment?
CHAPTER THREE
ANDREW
I held my breath until the infuriating clacking from her sandals was no longer perceivable from the empty hallway. But her alluring scent was still there when I finally inhaled again. That perfume she wore—day in and day out. It would drive any man insane. It was mystifying how the woman didn’t have a trail of desperate suitors following her everywhere she went instead of just one loser who accompanied her to my door.
Similarly mystifying was how I willed my cock to stay flaccid while she sat directly across from me in my cramped office. I had to be the world’s biggest glutton for punishment offering her the internship. If there were any sort of divine power in the universe, it would have intervened and swayed her to decline the opportunity. At the same time, we would have both been protected from the raw lust that ignited in my body in her presence.
I’d been teaching for eight years. It was never my intention to land here in my career path, but, well, here I was. Never, and I truly meant ever, had I been attracted to a student. Faculty knew what a tangled web it was to engage with students outside the classroom. In fact, when I was hired at this university years ago, there was an entire day of orientation devoted to not fucking around with your students.
Maybe a refresher course was in order.
* * *
Two days went by with no word from Ms. Farsey. Twice I had composed email messages reminding her I was awaiting her response, and twice I regained my sanity before sending the messages. But now I was getting pissed because the woman had me tied up in knots and didn’t even know it. She would never know it. But if she refused the position, I was in for the longest summer of my life. If she accepted, it might actually be worse.
She’d be a complete fool to turn me down. There was so much I could teach her that would secure her place in the graduate program. I thought surely it would sway her decision when I added the scholarship icing to the cake. Yet here I still sat. Waiting. Waiting to get a message from a woman who was at least fifteen years my junior, likely more.
I’d been fighting the urge to snoop in her personal files in the school’s system, but if she made me wait much longer, I could find out where she lived and go pay her a visit.
“Get a fucking grip, man,” I mumbled beneath my breath. I was thinking like a horny boy, and enough was enough. If Maye Farsey was too much of a snob to realize the gift I was offering her, I’d move on to the next candidate.
The problem was, she was truly the best qualified of all my class rosters. And she never gave me the impression she was a snob. I’d spent a lot of time—and I do mean a lot—watching her when she was deeply engrossed in whatever she was doing. The woman was immeasurably kind, conscientious, and compassionate. It was also impossible to overlook how often the word young seemed to sneak into all my thoughts about her too.
My email pinged that a new message arrived, and my breath caught in my chest. It had been the same routine for the past two days every time that damn chime went off. I had switched the sound off so many times, only to give in and turn it back on to ensure I didn’t miss a message while preoccupied.
Not that I had been getting any actual work done. I wanted to beat myself over the head with something big and heavy. I couldn’t remember feeling so enthralled by a woman. Ever. When I tried to pinpoint what it was about this female specifically, I spent too long focusing on all her attributes and ended up in the private restroom across the hall with my dick in my fist.
Enough already!
When I opened the email program on the school-issued laptop, my heart rate doubled. The only new message in the incoming queue was finally from her.
Dear Dr. Chaplin,
I wanted to thank you again for taking the time to meet with me regarding the summer internship. After much consideration, I’m happy to accept the offer and look forward to receiving further instruction regarding the hours we will work, location, and so forth. You can respond to this email address, as I check it often. Also, my cellphone number is (925) 555-3038.
Kindly,
Maye L. Farsey
Calmly I closed the lid of the computer and sat back in my seat. With my index fingers steepled beneath my chin, I sat there for long minutes contemplating what I was getting myself into.
Maye L. Farsey. My imagination took off trying to think of perfect middle names that lone letter could represent. Was it an ordinary name like Lynn? Or something more creative like Luna? At this point in my teaching career, I’d seen so many unusual names, I could spend the rest of the day guessing and still not get it right.
Would the temptation of the woman be too great? I could lose my job and therefore, the last ten years of my life. I was being considered for tenure, a goal I had set for myself when first hired. Having a guaranteed contract with the university would take so much worry off my plate. Living in Los Angeles was unreasonably expensive, plus I had been supporting my mother in Nebraska since my father passed away three years ago. Counting on the annual cost of living increases the university offered with tenure would ensure I could stay in the area and continue doing what I loved: teaching and applying for grants on behalf of the school.
When I reminded myself of all the things I busted my ass for over the past decade, and all the responsibilities weighing me down, I felt like an immature boy for devoting so much time to crushing on a student. It wasn’t simply amoral. It was career suicide. Ending my career would mean instant financial crisis, and I owed my mother and, frankly, myself, more than that sort of recklessness.
