To Professor, with Love (Forbidden Men #2)

“Mr. Gamble,” I said, nodding to him with a stony stare, “may I have a moment, please?”


He paused and kicked at his friend when Mr. Tenning murmured something in his ear. But he stayed behind, not moving until everyone in his group had made it to the door. Then, and only then, did concern fill his eyes as he approached me.

“Are you okay? You were rubbing your arm. Does it hurt?” When he went to reach for it, I pulled back and glanced behind him to where a few stragglers were still lingering.

Noel ground his teeth together as he took them in, and turned back to me, lowering his voice. “I can’t believe it’s still bothering you after a week. You need to go easier on yourself so you can heal. You’re remembering to take your painkillers, right?”

I frowned. I hadn’t called him after class to get my own lecture. I’d actually had something important to say. “I can’t. They make everything...muzzy. And I need a clear head to teach.”

He stepped closer, coming right up to the edge of my personal space. It was...nice, but this was so not the time or place. “You need not to feel any pain. I don’t like knowing you’re still hurting because of something I did.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” I cringed and drifted my gaze over the students who were now milling toward the doorway, not paying us any attention. More quietly, I hissed. “My arm is fine. The stitches are healing and everything will be okay. This is not why I needed to talk to you.”

Eyebrows lifting with interest, Noel cocked his stance with smug arrogance. “It’s not? Well, then...what’s up, Professor?” Folding his arms over his chest, he waited for me to continue.

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 great 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.