The Professor's Secret

Chapter One

            He looked at his watch again. Closing time. That was it. Except... His eyes strayed to her for the millionth time that night.

She sat with her chin resting on her fist, her long dark hair falling around her like a cloak and she was writing something in her notebook. Professor Shane Bancroft suspected it was more along the lines of doodling because, after having watched her all evening; he suspected she wasn't up to much more. Did she hear the announcement it was time to leave? She was making no move to do it. As much as he knew he should get out of the campus library before he did something stupid, he couldn't leave her there alone. It was midnight. Bad things happened to college girls out alone late at night. If something happened to her, he couldn't live with himself. He collected up his papers and other paraphernalia, put it all in his brown leather messenger bag and stood up, then picked up the bag off the table and draped it across his chest. He shoved his hands in his pockets and didn't move.

He walked over to her and four years of self-denial was shot to hell.

"Ms. Gerome, I don't mean to intrude, but are you alright?"

He was right about the doodling and she didn't lift her head to look at him.

"Thanks for asking. I'm fine. Just trying to get some work done. If you don't mind."

The sound of her voice made his muscles tighten. Deeper than the average woman's, with a trace of a French accent. It was the first time he'd heard it and it made him think of sex. Hot, steamy, all night sex. He would've been better off never knowing that and he cursed himself for coming over to her instead of silently following her to make sure she made it home safely. Now all he could think about was hearing her speak again. He tucked his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. For safety. His feet already betrayed him by walking over to her, he didn't trust his hands not to reach out and pull her in his arms. To push her hair behind her ears so he could see her face better. To rub her back in a gesture of comfort. She was a student. Off limits. Tenure, remember? Toe the line until you get tenure Bancroft.

"Forgive me, but the library's closing. Would you mind if I walked you to your car? Or gave you a ride home or to the bus station. It's late and I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you."

Swiping a hand down his face he sighed. He should've left as soon as she showed up. He didn't trust the work he'd done this evening. He'd most likely have to go over the papers he graded again because his students deserved his full attention and they certainly didn't get it tonight. But she hadn't seemed herself from the minute she walked in. Not that he was familiar with what that was, but he could tell she cried from time to time and he'd ached to make her feel better. More fool him.

Then she looked at him and his breath caught in his chest. How many times had he tried to capture the color of her eyes on canvas? Innumerable since her first day in his art history class almost four years ago. He knew it was the dark, iridescent blue of a peacock's feathers with the merest hint of green. What he didn't know was the impact of them close up. He could get lost in those eyes and the depth of pain he saw in them pierced his heart. This was why he wasn't able to leave her. Earlier in the evening as well as now.

"Oh no! Already?"

She jumped to her feet and flipped her note book shut, then grabbed her purse from the back of the chair and shoved her pencil in it before those eyes focused on him again. If she kept doing it he'd suffocate. He couldn't breathe every time he looked in them.

"I didn't mean to stay so late."

She muttered something under her breath which was most likely a swear word and the corner of his mouth tilted upward.