The way he says my name sends a shock through my system, and I realize I’m still standing, staring at him awkwardly. He’s probably in his mid to late thirties, maybe even early forties, but he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. From his crisp dress shirt opened at the collar to reveal a tiny bit of dark chest hair, to the rippling forearms resting on his desk, he’s one hundred percent grown, sexyman. His serious eyes narrow when they catch mine, and it’s suddenly too hot in his office.
“Sorry, Professor,” I say in a breathy squeak, finally sitting down and laying my crutches on the floor next to me.
He actually took my breath away. And damn it, he didn’t say my name. I mean, he did, but he thinks he’s talking to Cara, who he’s been torturing since the semester began. I need to hate him, not be wondering exactly how much chest hair he has and what it might feel like under my palms.
“You may begin whenever you’re ready. You have forty-five minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, feeling a quiver low in my belly. I want to keep calling him sir, have him give me more commands, maybe with his shirt off. Good God, what’s wrong with me? I’ve never felt so out of control before.
I tear open the envelope, and a bit of my unwarranted lust evaporates. There’s no way Cara could have done this test in two hours, let alone a measly forty-five minutes. He’s a cruel, unfeeling monster. I can keep thinking that if I don’t look at him, anyway.
I finish the test with minutes to spare and raise my hand, then feel like an idiot. Before I can get up and take the test to him, he notices my arm waving and rolls his eyes. Jerk. Damn, sexy jerk.
“Yes, Ms. Tanner? If you have a question, I’m sorry but I can’t help you. You’ll just have to leave it blank.”
Indignation that he’d treat Cara this way, or any student who needed extra help, pisses me off enough to quell my reaction to his handsome face. “I’m finished,” I say.
He’s clearly not impressed and walks over to take the test from me. “I’ll have your results by next class,” he says, dismissing me by turning back to his desk.
No. No way. I need to see his face when he realizes I—I mean, Cara—passed the test. I made sure to throw off a few questions so he wouldn’t suspect that I cheated, but I know I did well enough to pass with a C at least.
“Could you please grade it now? It would mean so much to me,” I say.
He sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly, biting his lower lip. I want him to bite mine. Oh, geez, why won’t it stop? I need to get these inappropriate reactions to him under control.
“I don’t suppose you’ll leave until you know your grade?” he asks, reaching for his red pen.
“No, sir,” I say, giving myself a thrill at calling him that again.
I watch as he grows more confused the further down the test he goes. After a minute, he slams his hand on the desk and stands up. He towers over me, and his dark eyes burn with fury.
“Ms. Tanner, what is the meaning of this?”
Well, shit.
Chapter 4
Gabriel
How did she manage to cheat? I kept an eye on her the whole time, no one came into my office after I sealed up her exam, and her phone and purse were ten feet away from her. I stare her down, and while she certainly does look frightened, as she should, she also doesn’t look like herself. I eye her critically from head to toe. No, she’s definitely Cara Tanner. And while she certainly didn’t injure herself the way she’d flippantly told me she had; it isn’t out of the question that she did hurt herself somehow.
But what is out of the question is that she passed this test. She is the worst student I have this semester and the same one who’d quietly sniveled her way through the first test, only to get every answer wrong, even the multiple-choice ones, which statistically should have given her at least a chance to get one right.
I move away from my desk and loom over her, about to demand that she confess how she cheated. She shrinks away from me, and I stop. I might be an asshole when it comes to teaching, but I draw the line at actually scaring someone, especially a vulnerable young woman. Taking a step back and a few deep breaths, I calm myself down before speaking.
“Ms. Tanner, I don’t know exactly what game you’re playing here, but I assure you, when I figure it out—and I will figure it out—there will be severe consequences. There is simply no way you improved enough over two days to pass this test.”
She winces, then says in a shaky voice, “I promise, Professor Stewart, I’m not playing a game. I really did study hard for this test. My sister helped me prepare.”
I stare at her for a moment, her blue eyes imploring me to believe her, but I can’t. I justknowsomething isn’t right here. I don’t know what it is, but I will figure it out.
“You’re dismissed, Ms. Tanner,” I say, infusing as much authority into my voice as I can.
Without a word, she gathers her things and leaves my office, slowed down by her crutches. It’s obvious she hasn’t quite gotten the hang of them yet, so her injury must have been very recent.
Later that afternoon, I’m across the quad on my way back to my office from the dining hall. I’m lost in thought as I contemplate for probably the thousandth time how Cara Tanner could have cheated on the retest. So, I’m not looking where I’m going when my foot catches on something and I’m spun around quickly.
I try to catch myself from falling, but I lose my balance and crash into something, falling to the ground and spilling my coffee. When the world finally stops spinning, I look around and see a petite blonde lying next to me, groaning as she grasps her ankle. Fuck. It’s Cara Tanner, and it looks like I may have hurt her ankle even worse. Her crutches are splayed out on the ground on either side of her, and I realize it must have been one of them that I tripped over. To make matters worse, she now appears to be wearing my coffee.
