The Professor's Secret

by Robyn Rychards

Hell no! He bellowed inside his head as he placed his body between Dani and the stairs to the basement. Damn it! Why hadn’t he closed the basement door? Letting her know the place had a basement was a huge mistake. A mistake that could change everything. And things were going so well. She genuinely liked what he’d done with his house. She got what his plans were for the second floor. Even made some suggestions that were spot on and filled the gaps where he wasn’t sure what to do. But now… His stomach sank. If she saw what he had in the basement, it was over. For good.

  When she placed her hands on his waist and rubbed herself enticingly against him, he felt himself going under, losing his train of thought. He removed a hand from the doorjamb and wrapped an arm around her waist, applying pressure onto her back with his hand to make sure she stayed there, cursing her ability to mess with his head so quickly. He’d never come across anything like it. Though, for only having watched her from afar, and being unable to get her out of his head, he should’ve guessed up-close and personal would have this effect on him.

  “Now you’ve got me curious, Shane. What’s in your basement? Stolen artwork? Another Matisse?”

  She looked up at him, a teasing light in her incredible eyes and he knew exactly what colors to mix together to get that effect on canvas. His desire to kiss her senseless and his need to start painting warred for supremacy. His hand fisted in the fabric of her shirt, bunching it up and pulling it tight across her chest, making the neckline ride low. It drew his gaze and he removed his other hand from the doorjamb so he could run his finger along the edge of the neckline, fascinated by the quick response of her body. He ran it back along her soft skin in an effort to resist the urge to plunge it under the fabric and caress her the way her body was begging him to.

  “If you don’t kiss me right now, Shane, I may die.”

  With a groan he moved his hand up to cup the side of her face, running his thumb across her bottom lip before capturing her mouth with his. He traced the path of his thumb with his tongue before dipping it into her mouth, savoring the feel of every millimeter of it, as though he needed it to live. He unclenched the hand on her back so he could touch her, feel her, memorize her. But it wasn’t enough to trace her with his hand, he needed to caress her bare skin. He shoved it under the hem of her shirt. The hot flesh of her back against the palm of his hand sent electric sparks skittering up his arm and spreading through every atom of his being. All he could think was, I need more of this. He needed to feel all of her. Against him. Around him. Under him. God. He might die if he didn’t.

  He moved his hand from her back to the side of her waist. He ached to touch more of her. Higher. If he could do that, maybe then he’d have the strength to stop. To have those lush curves that were pressing into his chest sitting in the palm of his hand. He needed that more than he needed air.

  Before his brain could register anything, that was all he had. Air. She wasn’t in his arms. Oh God, was he dreaming again?

  By the time he pulled himself together and figured out what happened, she’d disappeared down the stairs. She’d manipulated him. Used sex to get what she wanted. A peek at his basement. It was a good thing he was pissed at her now, because if she saw what was down there, she’d want nothing to do with him anyway. Damn it!

  When he joined her in the basement, she’d discovered his secret. She looked at him over her shoulder and froze. She was freaked out. Rightly so. If he thought about it too much, it freaked him out a little too. No woman had gotten into his head as much as Dani had. Except Lily. The woman he’d planned to marry. Until Lily realized, as an artist, he wasn’t going to be rich. Then she abandoned him, just like his parents had. Sometimes it made him second guess his decision to become one. Times like this, when it had people he cared about looking at him the way Dani was now. Was the joy creating brought him worth the pain?

  Sometimes he worried for his sanity when he saw the pictures he’d done of Dani. Mostly because of this need he had to paint her. It consumed him sometimes, as it had with Lily. Except Dani was a stranger, not a girl he was in love with. And now, looking at it from her perspective, it crossed his mind that maybe he should talk with one of the psychology professors. Dr. David Ames was a talented psychiatrist. He bit back a groan of disgust. He was really off his rocker for even thinking about doing such a thing. It was merely a quirk of being an artist. You never knew what was going to inspire you.

  “So now you know.”

  She jumped at his words, pushing the stack of canvases back against the wall, though she hadn’t looked through them all. On the floor next to them was a pile of sketchbooks. They were all closed, so she didn’t know there were a few pictures of her in there too. Ones he’d drawn as preliminaries to the paintings. Was something wrong with him. He hadn’t thought so before, but sure did now. And the look in her eyes told him he might be right to think it.

  “Now I know.” She stepped back away from him and wrapped her arms around her waist. “How long ago did you paint these pictures of me?”

  He briefly closed his eyes, put his hands behind his back and moved a pace away from her. It was the only thing he could think of to help alleviate her fear. Taking her in his arms was definitely not appropriate, though he longed to hug her and tell her there was nothing to be afraid of. Reassure her that she had no reason to fear him.

  “The first one I did after I saw you in my class, one of them I did last year and the other is more recent. I know this is weird Dani, I don’t blame you for freaking out. But there’s something about you that speaks to the artist in me. Inspires me. I know it’s hard for you to understand because you’re not an artist. Sometimes I’ll see something or someone that strikes a chord and there’s an irresistible urge to create. I’m not sure I can explain it any better than that. It’s hard to put into words.”

  She edged towards the bottom of the stairs, confirming his suspicion. It was over. For them certainly. But hopefully for him too. Now, maybe he could move on. Now he had a resolution of sorts. He’d spent time with her. Explored the option of a relationship with her and it hadn’t worked out. Time to move on.

  “This is creepy, Shane.”

  “I know it seems that way, but really, it isn’t. It’s just an artistic thing. I know a lot of artists and they do the same sort of thing.” Sort of. But she didn’t need to know that they always got permission from the person they wanted to use as an inspiration. At least as far as he knew… “It’s just a normal reaction to something that catches our interest.”

  “Maybe. But to me, right now, it feels stalker-creepy.”

  His stomach sank. Never in a million years would he want to make her feel that way, much less think such things about him. It was the polar opposite of reality. He prayed what she was feeling right now, what she was thinking about him, was because she was grieving. Because she hadn’t slept much and wasn’t functioning at the top of her game. Even if it meant their physical attraction wasn’t based on reality. It was far better than her thinking he was a creepy stalker who’d been following her every move the last three-plus years.

  “God, Dani, you really don’t need to be frightened. I never intended to pursue you in any way. You can leave and I won’t bother you again. Last night was a fluke. Had you not been upset, had it not been late…” He cleared his throat. “It helped me cope with my attraction to you and not act on it. If you weren’t a student or I wasn’t a professor wanting to advance his career, I would’ve asked you out on a date and seen where it went. You’re the muse of a crazy artist. In time, I hope you’ll feel flattered. All the great artists had their artistic obsessions. Not that I consider myself on the same level as someone like Matisse, but it’s something that comes with the territory.”

  She started backing up the stairs, her eyes never leaving him. It made him feel like slime. Though he felt that regardless of how she handled this. “I—” She swallowed. “I need to go home.”

  “Yes. Of course. Take care of yourself, Dani. I’m so sorry for the loss of yo
ur parents. Pretend you never met me. I won’t intrude in your life again.”

  He had no idea how long he stood there immobile, looking at the stack of pictures. The thing he’d been trying to avoid for years had happened anyway. His chances for tenure were ruined. Who knew how long it would be before he had the opportunity again. He swallowed the huge lump in his throat. It hurt, but not half as bad as his heart did. If there’d ever been a chance for any kind of relationship with Dani, it was gone now. Why? Why did it have to be her? Why did she have to be the one to imbed herself in his heart and nothing he did could get her out? Why couldn’t it be someone he could actually pursue a relationship with?

  He grabbed the canvases and hauled them to his garage, then went and got the sketchbook he’d use to make the preliminary drawings. It was cathartic. He was getting her out of his life. Out of his head. He grabbed a saw and cut them up. Having them around kept him from getting over her. From moving on. He had to move on. He needed to accept she would never be his. Which meant he needed to get rid of the pictures. And not create another one. Even if it kept him from ever creating another piece of art. His job was to teach art, not make it. He didn’t need his muse. He needed his job.

  He hauled the bits and pieces of canvas back into the house and piled them up on the floor of his living room, then brought the sketchbook into the living room. It would make good kindling. It really wasn’t the weather for a fire in the fireplace, but he would have one anyway. Until it was all gone.

  Dani ran out the door and kept running, unable to name all the feelings coursing through her. Except for the need to get away. Once she was home, she could figure it all out. Right now, she wanted to be gone. As far away as possible. By the time she reached Pearl Street Mall downtown, she stopped running, slowed her pace to a walk. He wasn’t following her. He said he wouldn’t, but she had no way of knowing she could trust that. You couldn’t believe anything a crazy person told you. By the time she reached the bus station, she was calmer, able to think more rationally. Or at least rational enough she could force herself to think of other things. Like dealing with her parents funeral arrangements. She needed all of it settled by Monday so she could focus on finals. On graduating. Getting her degree and moving on with her life. But where did she want that to be?

  She shook her head. She had plenty of time to figure it out. Right now, she was just grateful she lived east of town, outside the city limits, where it was less likely she’d run into the professor. Thank God he didn’t give her a ride home last night.

  Then it occurred to her. He was a person of authority at the university. Did he have access to her personal information because of it? Would he show up on her doorstep sometime, start stalking her now they’d had a physical encounter? Should she go to the police? With what? Most likely she’d be the one to look crazy.

  Stop it! Just deal with the here and now. It was plenty enough in itself. Depression descended. Again. She needed her mother more than ever and it wasn’t going to happen. It didn’t help she couldn’t get that man’s kisses out of her head either. No kiss had affected her like this before. Would it ever happen again? Tears trickled down her face and she scrubbed them away with annoyance, wondering if she was mourning more than the loss of her parents this time.

 

  Chapter Six