The Professor's Heart (Her Perfect Man Contemporary Romance)

by Z. L. Arkadie

  I look in Derek’s eyes. He’s already studying me.

  “How are you?” he asks.

  I shrug. “Still a little shaken up.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I look down again. “She said it was my fault.”

  “What’s your fault?”

  “That she’s dead.”

  “Do you think it’s your fault?”

  “Maybe.”

  Derek tilts his head to get me to look into his eyes. “Why do you feel that way?”

  It works. My gaze meets his. “Because I should have been there for her.”

  He heaves a long sigh. “You should have been there for her how?”

  His words penetrate me, dislodging the deep secret I’ve carried ever since the morning Patti called me to let me know Elena had gotten into a fatal car accident.

  “That night, I left early because…” I say.

  Derek watches me intensely, waiting for more. “Because…?”

  I look away from him. “I was upset.”

  “About what?” he says delicately.

  I shake my head. “It was just something stupid—very high school. You heard she didn’t die alone, right? Corey Neal was with her.”

  “Yes, I know. He was another student in the law school.”

  “Right. Well, I had a crush on him—at least I thought I did. He was really attractive. I thought Elena knew, but… I don’t know.” I turn to face him again, and Derek fidgets. “Maybe she didn’t. But that night, they were into each other. The two of them laughing and talking was a sight I didn’t want to see, so I just left. The next morning, they were both dead.” My lip quivers. “They both drank too much. I’ve always been Elena’s designated driver. If I had stayed, they wouldn’t be dead right now.”

  He observes me for a moment. “That’s a lot of guilt you’re carrying.”

  My chin quivers. If I speak, then I’ll cry, so instead I nod stiffly.

  “It’s not real, Naomi.”

  I swallow to get a hold on my emotions. “Then what is?” I say quietly. I feel as if he has the answer. I don’t know why. I just do.

  “What’s real is that you loved Elena. She was responsible for herself that night, and you are responsible for only yourself.”

  “I know, but…” I look away.

  “Deep down inside, I know you know. You just have to be brave enough to let go of the guilt.”

  I close my eyes. I see the college graduation picture of Elena and me that’s sitting on my desk. I remember the first high school dance we attended and how we spent the summer backpacking through Europe a week after graduating from high school. I remember when that French guy tried to kiss me out of the blue and she threw wine in his face. I remember her smiles and our sisterly kisses and hugs, not the horrid face from my dream. That wasn’t her—that was my guilt.

  “You’re absolutely right,” I whisper.

  Derek opens his palm, inviting me to take his hand. I accept, and our fingers entwine. For the first time in a long time, the weight I’ve been carrying on my shoulders disappears.

  “Elena wouldn’t want me to feel this way,” I say.

  “I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t.”

  Silence lingers between us. I watch how the moonlight enhances the lake. The longer I stare the brighter the light. Finally I remember why I’m here in the first place.

  I sniff back my tears. “Enough about me, so why did you need to see me?”

  “Oh,” he says as if he completely forgot why he called and asked me to meet him here.

  I lower my head to study him. “Is everything okay with you?”

  He looks me in the eyes. “I just really wanted to see you.”

  My eyes expand. “Me? Why?”

  “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you after class today.”

  I cross my arms because it’s getting chilly. “Yeah,” I say with a sigh, I remember how disappointed I was about that.

  “Are you cold?” he asks.

  I play it up some by hugging myself tighter. “A little.”

  Derek puts his arm around me and I take advantage of his nearness by resting my head on his shoulder. His warmth touches every part of me like a soft kiss. We sit like this for a long time.

  When it gets too late, he walks me to my car. We give each other one last kiss. My head spins. My heart soars. We’re breaking all the rules, crossing every boundary, and it feels so damn good.

  16

  In the morning, I pinch myself. Did I dream the night I spent with Derek? How he walked me to my car, kissed me, and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  No. I didn’t. It was real.

  I roll out of bed and already have an outfit in mind. I want to look good for Derek, but I also want to look good for myself. Today is a big day for me. After all, I’m starting my career somewhere other than my father’s firm, and I’m proud of myself for that.

  After looking through several of my nicer outfits, I decide on a sexy but not over-the-top gray skirt suit. I put my hand on the hanger but freeze as I wonder what kind of work I’ll be doing. Things were still pretty disorganized when I was there last. He said he would have the place finished, but you never know. He could ask me to move boxes, run the phone, file things, et cetera. So I scrap my plan to wear the suit and put on a comfortable pair of trousers with a light short-sleeved blouse.

  I look in the mirror. The pants are stretchy, so they still show off my long legs. I shake my head. Gosh… I can’t believe I’ve become one of those women. But there’s no turning back now. I want Derek to find me appealing without me being so overt about it. According to the image in the mirror, I’ve succeeded.

  I get in my car and race to grab an egg-and-cheese croissant, along with a medium coffee, from Break Bread Café. I scarf down breakfast on my way to class. During class, I can hardly concentrate on Dr. Comely’s lecture.

  All I can think about is last night’s kiss good-bye. Taking it further would’ve been nice. By the feel of the firmness between his legs, we both wanted the same thing, so for the next three and half hours, I let myself picture Derek doing me at least twenty different ways. He has to be a skilled lover. That fiery look in his eyes screams his sensuality.

  As soon as class is over, I rush out of the room. The moment I’ve been waiting for has arrived. It’s time to go see Derek.

  I speed across town. I love that I have a stick shift. I feel as if it always gets me where I need to be a minute or two earlier. I arrive at Derek’s office five minutes early. The door is open, so I walk in.

  I’m struck by how pleasant and completely ready for business the office looks. It’s fully furnished with dark-cherry-wood-and-black-leather furniture. The once-bare concrete floor is covered with rich, cream-colored carpet with elegant olive-colored patterns. The reception desk and complementary wall hangings make me feel like I just walked into Derek’s true home. I don’t think I’ll be moving any boxes today.

  Now that I’ve devoured my surroundings, I search for Derek—or any other living soul.

  I clear my throat. “Excuse me?”

  There’s no answer.

  I slowly walk past the reception area toward the back offices. “Hello?”

  “I’m in here,” Derek says.

  I notice the heaviness in his voice. I go into the corner office, where Derek is sitting behind the desk, wearing a white pressed shirt that’s unbuttoned at the top. He’s holding some papers, and there’s a water-damaged manila envelope on his desktop. It looks just like the accident report the detective left at his house several days ago.

  He sets down the papers. “You made it.”

  I shake the picture of the fifteenth way he does me out of my head. “I did.”

  We stare into each other’s eyes. Now I’m wondering what we are to each other.

  “Okay, well”—he hops to his feet—“we should get started… and, by the way…” He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “You look beautiful, as usual.”
>
  My mouth opens. I’m at a loss for words. I clear my throat. “Thanks. So do you.”

  We smile awkwardly at each other. It’s clear that after last night, we can’t go back to being what we were before he started tutoring me.

  “Well,” he says, “let me show you what I need from you today.”

  Before I get a chance to say anything, a voice comes from the front of the office. “Derek Valentine!”

  Derek’s expression collapses as if he recognizes who it is. I follow him out to the reception area. The detective is standing there with a uniformed officer.

  “What’s this about, Detective?” Derek says.

  “Got some questions for you.”

  “That’s a pretty dramatic entrance you’re making. You couldn’t have called?”

  The detective smirks. “Nope. Didn’t want to. Thought I’d come here and offer you a comfy ride to the station.”

  “What for?” Derek says.

  “Because we need to talk.”

  “About what?” Derek snaps.

  “Oh, I think you already know,” the detective says.

  “No, Detective, I don’t know because I don’t read minds. So if you’re not arresting me, you’d better be specific about why you’re here or you better leave.”

  The two men stare at each other. I feel as though the room could use a fire extinguisher to put out the heat between them.

  “It’s about your wife’s untimely death,” the detective says.

  Derek looks completely confused. “What about it?”

  The detective grunts sharply. “Listen, Professor, I have dozens of cases piling up on my desk. If I didn’t care about getting the truth about how your wife died, then I wouldn’t be here.”

  “She died in an accident.”

  “You see—I don’t believe that.”

  Derek’s about to speak, but then he thinks better of it. He looks puzzled. It’s as if this is the first time he’s really hearing what the detective has to say.

  “Did you look at the report I gave you?” the detective says.

  “Of course I did.”

  “Then I think you know what I’m talking about.” The detective looks at the uniformed officer. “Ben here is going to give you a ride to the station. I would offer to drive you myself, but you and I aren’t on the best of terms.”

  Derek studies the detective and officer with narrowed eyes. “I’ll go, but I’ll drive my own car.”

  The detective throws up his hands. “See. That was easy.”

  Derek sniffs disdainfully then looks at me. “There’s an extra set of keys in my desk. Lock up if you leave before I get back.”

  Derek grabs his jacket off the coat tree next to the door. He looks at me—he appears more annoyed than guilty or afraid. He walks outside, and the detective and uniformed officer follow.

  I watch until they’re no longer in sight.

  I take a deep breath. “Well, that’s one way to start a new job.”

  17

  I turn and look back at Derek’s office. That guy can’t seriously think Derek killed his wife. Although I don’t think it could be true, the whole thing is still unsettling. I look around for an inspiring thought.

  “The accident report!”

  I go back to Derek’s office and pick up the papers he left on his desk. Sure enough, it’s the report the detective was talking about. I read through it, studying every little detail.

  About an hour later, I set the papers down. I can see where the detective is coming from. There is some information in here that would more than raise an eyebrow.

  I pick up the report again and flip through it. I stop on the page with a photo of the vehicle’s brake line. The first thing the detective has to prove is that the brakes were intentionally tampered with. Since I know almost nothing about cars, there’s really no way for me to know if this report holds merit. I narrow one eye and flip through the Rolodex in my mind. Who do I know who could help me understand this? Suddenly, my virtual Rolodex stops.

  Uncle Albert, my mom’s brother, happens to be a mechanic. I look at my watch. If I go now, I should be able to catch him before he leaves. His home and auto shop are about six or seven miles from here. I snatch my purse off Derek’s desktop, the keys out of the top drawer, and lock up on my way out.

  I get to his shop, and just as I thought, Uncle Albert is there. I study his face while he looks over the report.

  Finally he raises his eyebrows as he hands it back to me. “What do you want to know about it?”

  I take the papers, noticing the grease marks he left behind, and flip to the page showing the picture of the brake line. “Do you know what could’ve caused this?”

  “You mean the ruptured brake line?”

  “Yeah.”

  Albert takes the report again and studies it for another second or two. “Could’ve been anything, but—”

  “How long do you think it would take before the brakes would fail after the line was ruptured?”

  “A hole that size…” He takes off his cap and scratches his head. “Not long.”

  I shrug anxiously. “Could you give your professional guess?”

  “For a gash that size, they’d go out almost immediately.”

  Now that I’ve taken him down a new line of questioning, I try asking again. “How do you think something like that could have happened?”

  “That’s what I was going to say before you cut me off.” He winks.

  I smile. “Sorry. Go ahead, continue.”

  “It would be a lot easier if I could see it in person, but the rupture isn’t crimped—like it got pinched in the accident. It’s not rusted either, and it doesn’t look like a rock or some debris jumped up and whacked it while on the road.”

  “So you’re saying that it doesn’t look like it occurred naturally?”

  “Again, without looking at the actual vehicle, it’s hard to say—but probably not.” He narrows one eye at me. “Are you already a lawyer or something? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, I wouldn’t know if you graduated from law school yet or not.”

  I roll my eyes. “Not yet, and it hasn’t been that long. I saw you on Thanksgiving, don’t you remember?”

  He goes back to fiddling with the car’s engine. “Well, I’m just right up the street anyway.”

  There’s nothing like that classic Millbourne guilt. Everyone on my mom’s side of the family uses it.

  “Well, so am I,” I say, smiling.

  Uncle Albert stops cranking the wrench and looks at me. “You got a point.”

  We chuckle together.

  “So did I answer all of your questions, counselor?” he asks.

  “For now, but I know where to find you if I have more.”

  He puts down the wrench. “It was nice seeing you today. Glad you stopped by.” He holds out his arms. “I would give you a hug, but I’m dirty as a dipstick and you’re nice and clean.”

  I lean over to kiss his cheek. “There.”

  “Ah, thanks, darling.”

  “You’re welcome, and thank you.” I tuck the report under my arm and take two steps backward. “Oh by the way, did you know Dad’s getting married?”

  “Yeah, I got an invitation in the mail yesterday.”

  I flinch. “You did?” I haven’t checked my mail all week, but I’m sure I have one too.

  “Sure did. Do you know much about her?” he says.

  “Yeah. Alice is a nice lady—very pretty, like mom was.” I nod thoughtfully. “She seems like a really good match for Dad. He’s more calm around her.”

  “I’m a fan already. Besides, it’s about time…”

  “Yeah… So are you going to be there?” I say.

  “Are you?” he asks.

  “Of course.”

  “Well I guess that’ll be the next time I see you.” He winks.

  I roll my eyes. “No. I’ll stop by and say hi before then.” I tap my fist over my heart. “Scout’s honor.”

  I wave be
fore I head out. I would just go home, but I want to make sure I put the accident report back where I found it. When I get back to the office though, Derek is sitting at his desk.

  “I was looking for that.” Derek says, his lips pressed into a thin line.

  I set the report on his desk cautiously.

  He rubs his forehead. “I have been looking for it since I got back. I thought I’d misplaced it.”

  “I’m sorry. I was just trying to help.”

  “Help?” He appears irritated by that notion.

  “My uncle’s a mechanic, and I had him take a look at it.”

  He frowns at me.

  “I realize I crossed a line. It’s just that I saw you reading it when I came in, and I remembered the detective dropped it off while I was at your house. I figured it’s evidence, and I’m good at processing that kind of stuff. And if—”

  Derek lifts his hand. “Okay, I got it. Just next time, ask first.”

  I nod, relieved. “Of course.” I take a deep breath and sit in the chair across from his desk. “So how did it go?”

  He searches my face. I gather he’s wondering if he can trust me.

  He shifts in his seat. “He asked me about the morning my wife died and when she’d last driven her car prior to the accident.”

  I grunt thoughtfully and lean back. “That would make sense.”

  He cracks a tiny smile. “Why would that make sense?”

  “Because if I were the detective, I’d want to figure out when the brake line was messed up and who could have had access to the vehicle.”

  Derek sits back in his chair and steeples his hands under his chin. “I would too.”

  I smile proudly then straighten my face. “So… did you do it?”

  “That’s a great question, counselor. No, no, I did not.”

  “I didn’t think so. So who did?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question.”

  18

  Since I’m here, Derek takes some time to show me the tasks he wants me to get started on next Thursday. Because it’s a new firm, he’s mainly focused on acquiring new clients. So I’ll be making calls to some of his legal contacts to tell them he just opened an office and ask if they’re willing to set up a meeting in order to discuss future representation. Like my dad, Derek’s emphasis is mainly on contracts and litigation, but he’s also focusing on criminal law.