After class Marie retreated, miserable and ruffled, to the student union for a greasy burger. Nothing like chomping on something high calorie to put you in a happier frame of mind. Even if you knew each mouthful bypassed your stomach entirely and zipped right down to your thighs. There you could feel it making an evil ‘splat,’ and leaving another dimpled crater. She waved the disconcerting thoughts away: a greasy burger she would have.
She pulled open the heavy doors and clicked in her heels down the hall that led to the food service area. She could taste the burger already, made just the way she liked it, with no pickles, no mayo, and no giggles.
Giggles weren’t dignified, weren’t appropriate, weren’t characteristic of West Point College. So why could she still hear them?
She rounded the corner and stopped short at the sight of Logan ensconced in a booth, sharing platters of French fries with Tanya, Jennifer, and Deirdre. Not content with rendering her students brainless in class, he was teasing and flirting with them outside of class!
She glowered at him. Jerk.
What kind of thirty-five-year-old man flirted with nineteen-year-old girls? This didn’t say much for his character.
He relaxed against the vinyl padding of the booth. She knew it was only her imagination, but even the damned cushion seemed to gasp with pleasure at having his masculine thighs pressed into it. Aarrggh.
The gaggle of formerly brilliant and accomplished West Point girls hung all over him, practically crawling into his lap. If she didn’t block her throat with that burger soon, she was going to throw up.
And if she didn’t establish her authority over the situation immediately, she’d never gain control over her seminar again.
“Logan,” she said, thinking of hot beef, “When you’re finished, I need to talk to you.”
He raised a thick eyebrow at her. “Why, Miz D’Ancanto, are you holding me after class?”
No, I’m holding you in contempt. “Something like that.” She flashed a crisp smile at the group.
The girls straightened self-consciously and picked at their fries. Logan continued to lounge, the picture of virile indolence.
She walked past them to order her burger from Tracy, a former student who worked this shift.
“Hey, Miss D’Ancanto. How’re you?”
“Fine, thanks. How was your summer?”
Tracy shrugged. “Okay, I guess. What can I get for you?”
Peace of mind. A steady pulse. “A cheeseburger, please. Ketchup, mustard, lettuce—but hold the pickle and mayo.” Not to mention the giggles.
“No problem. Fries?”
Marie shook her head. “Thanks.”
“Drink?”
Yes, I could use a stiff one. “Diet Coke.”
“So who’s that guy over there?” Tracy asked as she took her ten-dollar bill.
Marie didn’t have to ask which one. “Charles Xavier’s grandson. He’s taking my seminar.”
“Cool,” said Tracy. “I might have to come audit.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Logan joined her as Tracy forked over her bag of sin. “Why don’t you walk back to my office with me?”
“That sounds like more of a command than a request.” But he fell into step with her.
Jennifer, Tanya, and Deirdre gazed longingly at him as they passed the booth. Ugh.
They followed the narrow walkway from the student union back to the art building. Lined with trees and flower beds, the path pulsed with the beginnings of autumn color: riots of gold, pumpkin, scarlet, and bronze.
Marie was tempted to shove her face into the paper sack, like a horse with a feed bag, so she wouldn’t have to say anything to Logan.
What was she going to say? How could she phrase things so that she didn’t come off as a sour old biddy? Was she a sour old biddy? The thought made her want to pull the entire burger bag over her head.
Nonsense! She wasn’t a biddy. She had the right not to be visually stripped in her own classroom.
But would bringing it up and confronting him with it only worsen the situation? Shouldn’t she just rise above it? Or was that cowardice talking?
Logan hadn’t said a word as they walked along the path. His hair gleamed in the sunlight, and she noticed strands of mahogany underlying hair so dark it was almost black. He turned his head, saw her studying him, and raised an eyebrow.
“I wasn’t flirting with those girls. It’s important that you know that. We happened to meet up again at the student union, and they invaded my booth with military precision.”
She didn’t reply.
“Understand? I don’t hit on teenage girls.”
Marie nodded. She’d seen them in action in her seminar.
“It’s not the most comfortable situation for me, either. Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?” His brown eyes held rueful amusement.
She looked quickly away, put the straw of her cup to her lips, and took a long swallow of Diet Coke. Then she thought of him back in her classroom, teasing his own straw with his tongue.
She choked on the sexual image, sending cold liquid down her windpipe. Her lungs protested, sending it right back up, and suddenly she was spitting Diet Coke onto the autumn leaves by the path. It dribbled onto her chin, and her pale linen jacket. Her humiliation was complete.
Logan thumped her between the shoulder blades. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” she wheezed. She looked up, sure his Viking face would be suffused with laughter, but saw none.
His caramel eyes searched her own, and only when he seemed certain she was okay did they crinkle at the corners. “If just plain soda did that to you, I’d hate to see what a shot of tequila does.”
“You’ll never have the chance,” she assured him.
He looked speculative.
They reached the art building, then her office, where the first thing she did was grab a tissue, wet it with bottled water, and dab at her jacket.
He watched her for a moment and folded his arms. “So what is it, then, that you wanted to talk to me about?”
Okay, time to stop procrastinating and bring up the subject. She cleared her throat and threw the tissue in the wastebasket. Then she tossed her dignity after it.
“I can’t have you… doing what you’re doing to me in the seminar.”
He folded his arms, and the gold in his eyes intensified. He filled the whole office with his presence, and the walls seemed to close in on her.
“Doing what I’m doing,” he repeated. The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “And what exactly is that?”
“You know very well.”
“No, I don’t. Tell me.” He moved closer to her.
She wanted to step back, but held her ground. Her damned hormones started fussing and clucking again, hopping nervously and bopping their heads.
“Don’t play games, Logan.”
He took another step toward her. “What if I’m very, very good at certain games, darlin’?”
His voice was low and husky, and her blood began to pound. Her palms heated. Bok! Bok! said the hormone-chickens.
“What if I could teach you a whole new set of rules?” Logan continued.
Oh, that voice. Deep and musical and full of the promise of tangled sheets. Her whole body vibrated in response to it.
“Rules that don’t have anything to do with boxy jackets, or slide projectors, or academics?”
Cluck. Squawk. Shut up, hormones! Tyson, she thought. Butterball. Campbell’s. She was a professional and this man was all but harassing her. So why was her blood pounding? Why was her stomach doing back flips? Why did her conscience seem to have passed out, like a bum on the street?
She kicked it, hoping to revive it.
“I don’t want to learn your game,” Marie said. “And I think you make up the rules as you go along.”
His white teeth flashed at her, then disappeared again. Two steps closer, and he was inches away from her body.
She inhaled his scent—the detergent of his shirt, the faint traces of deodorant, and the more primal, indescribable machismo to which language couldn’t do justice. How could bad news smell this good?
And Logan was most definitely bad news, a male headline in 120-point bold type that screamed, “Run for your life!”
The problem was, she had little room for running at the moment, and even less inclination for it. When Logan reached one of his large, beautifully shaped hands toward her and traced the Diet Coke stain on her jacket with his index finger, all she could do was swallow. Something in her trembled, but not in fear, in anticipation.
The horrid hormones actively pecked at her now, with sharp little beaks. Go away! she hissed. Chic-fil-A. McDonald’s… but these were fierce, fightin’ poultry. Pullets with an attitude.
Logan’s index finger moved to her lips, and gently traced the shape of them. And then he settled that finger in the middle of her bottom lip and slowly slid it inside about half an inch. She couldn’t help but close her mouth over it and taste the flavor of it, of salt and man. She could feel the tiny ridges and whorls with her tongue, and had the insane impulse to take the whole finger into her mouth and suckle it.
But he withdrew it and placed his lips on hers instead.
Marie felt a shock flow through her, down to her toes.
Liquid heat followed the shock in ripples. She tilted her head and leaned into the kiss, exploring his lips with her own. She heard his quick intake of breath, felt his body close the gap between them and press hard against her.
Never had a kiss been this intense, not ever.
Logan explored her mouth with his tongue now, and she began to do the same, touching her own tongue to the edge of his teeth, then venturing beyond.
Heat continued to pulse through her, intensifying in embarrassing private places. She stiffened, and his response was to place his hands on either side of her jaw. He delicately stroked her skin and her ears with feather-light touches, ending his invasion of her mouth with a gentle nip at her lower lip that sent another flash of heat through her.
He dropped his hands, took a step backward, and stared at her, his breathing ragged.
She stared back warily. Dear God.
Outside the closed door, two T.A.’s walked by, deep in conversation. She didn’t hear their words, only the warning of their presence. It was a reminder that she and Logan were in her office, her professional workplace, behaving in an utterly unprofessional way.
Shame suffused her face as she recalled that she’d hauled him here to put him in his place, to ensure that he stop his silent harassment of her.
She’d meant to talk to him about his flirtation with her students, and here she was behaving worse than any of them. She was hot and bothered and damp and panting. She closed her eyes. She was teetering on the verge of shameless hussydom.
Had she smacked the man for sheer nerve? No. Had she told him to get the hell out of her office? No. Had she threatened to report him to the college? No. Instead, she’d encouraged him and kissed him back!
What in the blazes was wrong with her? When he’d touched her clothing, she should have socked him one in the jaw. When he’d popped that finger in her mouth, she should have bitten it off.
But no. She was obviously sex-starved enough to fall for his innuendos and the cheap thrill of his… okay, so it wasn’t cheap. It was a thrill of the finest quality.
Her own behavior was cheap, however. Sleazy. It was just plain sleazy for her to be making out with a student in her office with the door closed. What did that make her? How could she have responded to him like that?
She was deeply ashamed. She’d been brought up to be a decent, honorable, upright person. Not the sort of woman who skulked around campus, preying on her students and climbing them like trees.
Her behavior had always been unimpeachable. She was stable and conscientious— not the type to be blinded by lust. Yet here she stood, with mussed hair and throbbing lips.
“Marie,” Logan said, quietly. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”
She couldn’t look at him. “I think you should go.”
“That’s probably a good idea.” He moved toward the door. “We’ll just forget this ever happened, all right? And from now on, I’ll… behave myself in class.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you to everyone who has been leaving me such wonderful feedback. I haven't had a chance to read all of the newer reviews but I will soon. I read every word that ya'll write me, good and bad, and I try to respond back to everyone. So if you haven't gotten a message back from me yet then you will over the next couple of days.
I also want to thank Askita for the beta work she did for me. Your help was most excellent, sweety. =)
I also want to thank Askita for the beta work she did for me. Your help was most excellent, sweety. =)