“Do you ever think about anything other than school?” His voice was playful which annoyed her to the core. She hated the way he seemed so calm in light of recent events.
Playboy. Her tone was filled with irritation as she said, “Sometimes.”
“Whoo, what’s wrong?” Adam sprang up, adjusting himself to Clara’s level.
“Nothing.” Clara fumbled with the book she desperately wanted out of her bag. Maybe if she ignored him, he would go away, and they could avoid the awkward conversation she knew was approaching.
“Well, maybe I can cheer that nothing up.” With a hypnotizing Beaumont smile, Adam leaned in to kiss her.
Clara’s hand flew between them. When his face lit up in surprise, she knew she wasn’t going to escape the awkward conversation after all. “Look, why don’t we just call Friday night what it was? A mistake.”
“You don’t mean that.”
Clara almost laughed. “I believe I do.”
“What happened? I mean after the party.” Adam’s face filled with concern. “Luke said you practically ran out. And you still haven’t replied to a single text.”
Clara scoffed. Adam was not the only guy she was avoiding all weekend. Corin must have sent a half a dozen texts apologizing for his behavior. He wanted to take her out to dinner to make it up to her. She was so close to telling him that leaving her the hell alone would be the only way to make amends.
Without thinking, she blurted, “If you wanted to talk to someone, why not try Olivia?”
“What?” he asked. Clara glanced up from her book. His eyes were the same light blue as his shirt. The fact that she noticed it annoyed her further. “Why would I want to talk to Olivia?” With slight panic in his voice, he added, “What did she tell you?”
Clara raised an eyebrow. “What should she tell me?”
“Nothing. At least nothing true. Olivia’s the type of girl who doesn’t stop ‘til she gets what she wants. And she can be downright vindictive when she doesn’t.”
“Well, it looked like she got what she wanted at the party.” The edge to her tone sharpened with each word. Adam stared at her unblinking. It seemed Clara would have to spell it out for him. “I saw her pretty little arms wrapped around you before I left. It’s no big deal. Aside from one drunken mistake, we aren’t together, so you can do whatever you want. But I’m not going to make the same mistake again.”
Adam ran his hands through his light brown hair and around his face. He looked like he struggled with what to say. Scooting closer to Clara, Adam draped his arm across her legs, locking Clara between him and the tree.
“I’m sorry,” he began. “But I promise you nothing is ever going to happen between Olivia and me. I was done with her long before I met you.”
“Sure you were.”
“I’ll admit she hung around longer than she should’ve, but that doesn’t mean anything happened Friday. Apparently Corin invited her. She doesn’t take rejection well, and I’m sure what you saw was just me not trying to make a scene.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that?”
“You can believe what you want to, but it won’t change the truth.” He paused, lowering his voice as he leaned in closer. His free hand, soft and warm, followed the line of her jaw. “Why would I do anything with her after kissing you? Something … might I add … I’d thoroughly enjoy doing again.”
“Isn’t that what you do?” she asked as she tried to ignore the shivers that ran down her neck. “Chase after one girl, only to trade her for another?”
“Don’t believe everything you hear.”
One look into those blue eyes and she wanted to believe every word. She tried to see it from his perspective. Olivia throwing herself at him because she didn’t take rejection well? If she truly thought about it, it was the exact same thing Corin tried with her. Jeez, those two were a match made in psycho heaven.
“Fine,” she finally said, but she kept the distance between them to be safe. “I’ll admit that there’s a possibility that you might be telling the truth.”
“I’ll accept that. Now, since that’s all sorted out, I actually came over to tell you that my mother wants to meet you.”
“What?” Panic rose in her throat. “Why?”
“Relax. It’s not a ‘meet the parents of the guy you’re seeing’ sort of thing—”
“We are not seeing each other.”
A wicked glint flashed in his eyes. With a smile, he continued, “I just mean that she wants to meet my tutor.”
“Oh.”
“How does a late lunch sound? We would go after our writing class on Wednesday.”
“Umm …” How could she turn down the Dean’s request? “Sure. That sounds fine.”
“Good. Now, about not wanting to see me …” he teased. Clara cursed the fuzzy feeling that swirled in her stomach. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“Yes.”
“Can I ask why?”
“Adam, you’re paying me to tutor you.”
A cocky smile formed on his lips. “Afraid of mixing business with pleasure?”
For a second, Clara could not answer. She was lost in tingling feeling that smile gave her. Damn him. He was becoming a major hazard to her thoughts. His mouth inched closer to hers. Her rational side did not consent.
“What if I promise to be on my very best behavior during all tutoring sessions?” Humor danced in his eyes. “No teasing, no flirting. Scout’s honor!”
Clara’s brow arched high. “Were you ever a scout?”
“No,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t be true to my word.”
Clara scoffed. She tried to think about his offer, but she couldn’t focus. Her nerves were sent into overdrive by his simple touch. Could he really keep the two separate? Could she? Should she?
“I’ll think about it,” Clara said with a smile.
“Something to help persuade you,” he whispered as his hand gently wrapped around her neck.
“I don’t do PDA,” she said, but her words lacked conviction.
“Good thing we aren’t in public.” His mouth slowly caressed each word. “It’s just you and me.”
She didn’t argue with his reasoning. Instead, she welcomed the taste of mint as his lips brushed hers, and the world around them faded. There was something sweeter in the kiss that wasn’t there before, as if he were savoring each second. Hazily, she followed his slow movements, enjoying the pure sensation of it.
Damn, the man could kiss.
A quiet moan of protest escaped her lips as Adam pulled away. His mouth hovered inches from hers. She could hear laughter in his voice as he said, “Just something for you to think about while we’re in class. Now, come on. Wouldn’t want to be late, would we?”
Clara could not answer. Her head was still reeling with mixed emotions. Sooner or later, she was going to give in to him. They both knew it.
Chapter Nine
Adam fiddled with the silverware in front of him. Instead of eating in the small kitchen area as he suggested, his mother chose to host Clara in their large dining hall. They sat at the far end of the table, leaving the fifteen remaining chairs vacant. It was excessive. The room was reserved for hosting annual parties not eating a small lunch.
“Your home is beautiful,” Clara said to Angela Beaumont.
“Why thank you. It has been home to many generations of Beaumonts,” his mother replied.
Adam’s eyes rolled toward the crystal chandelier. Please don’t let her get started on family history, he prayed. Growing up, he loved his home and the countless stories told by his parents and grandparents. But now was not the time to get into it. He needed the lunch to end as soon as possible. The less amount of time Clara spent with his mother the better.
“That painting behind you,” Clara began, “I’ve seen it before, but I can’t remember the painter.”
Angela didn’t need to turn around as a proud smile
filled her face. Adam’s gaze shifted to the classic piece, tuning out their discussion. His father’s favorite. The rough, painted strokes illustrated a boat battling a harsh snowstorm. It was hauntingly beautiful, and quickly became a young Adam’s favorite backdrop to recreate his own shipwreck scenes. He could spend hours propped up on the decorative table below it, or until one of the maids chased him away.
“Joseph Mallord William Tuner,” his mother replied. “A captivating piece, isn’t it?
Clara nodded. “My roommate would love it. She’s taking an art history class this year and won’t stop talking about all the pieces she gets to study.”
“If I’m correct, your roommate is Rosalia Laurence,” his mother said. “How are you two getting along?”
“Great.” The smile in Clara’s voice was as evident as the one on her face. “Rose and I are good friends.”
Adam smiled to himself as he fumbled with whatever gourmet salad his mother insisted on serving. The whole ridiculous luncheon was just a show of power meant to intimidate Clara, testing what type of girl she was. But Clara was holding her own in the tedious conversation.
“That’s so good to hear.” Angela took a moment to sip her ice water. The awkward silence was stifling. At least, it was for him. “So tell me, how is Adam coming along?”
“Can’t we, at least, finish lunch before we talk about me?” he asked.
“Of course not. It’s the reason we are all here.”
Adam groaned. He dreaded this part of the conversation. It was the main reason he argued against the stupid lunch date to begin with. His mother was determined to ruin his junior year. Thanks to her, he would have to take summer classes to graduate on time or suffer an added year.
“Actually, he’s doing very well,” Clara said.
“Wonderful! I’ll admit I was a little concerned when he said he found his own tutor. Especially one so much younger than him.”
“Clara’s here on full scholarship,” Adam said. There was no way he was going to let Clara’s age become a factor in her tutoring abilities.
“Oh I know,” his mother cooed. “Very impressive. It speaks very highly of you, Clarabelle.”
Clara’s cheeks flushed brightly. “Thank you.”
From where Adam sat, it was clear Clara was nervous as she shifted in her seat. And why shouldn’t she be? Her afternoon consisted of facing Angela Beaumont, a woman who could rub elbows with the wealthiest of the wealthiest and not break a sweat. Even if Clara wasn’t tense, Adam stressed enough for the both of them. The dining room was turning into the damn Sahara.
He relaxed slightly when Mrs. Thompson reentered the room to bring her mouthwatering tea sandwiches. He released a heavy breath as he watched his favorite housekeeper serve Clara first. Mrs. Thompson’s caring presence helped cool the stuffy atmosphere.
“Thank you,” Clara said as she chose a couple slices from the silver tray. “These look delicious.”
“They’re Adam’s favorite,” Mrs. Thompson replied. Her dark magenta stained lips curved into a warm smile before she sent a wink his way.
Adam responded with a soft smile of his own. As a young child, he had satisfied his boredom by terrorizing the staff that kept the Beaumont estate in pristine condition. Countless maids and groundskeepers resigned. Adam’s relatively harmless pranks ruled the manor until Mrs. Anne Thompson ended his reign of mayhem. With four boys of her own, she knew just how to put her foot down when it came to a six-year-old menace. She was a stern old broad with the world’s kindest heart.
“Thank you, Anne,” Angela said as she received her food. “And please bring the tea out.”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s almost finished brewing,” Mrs. Thompson replied before scurrying back to the kitchen.
“As I was saying,” his mother continued, “I appreciate that you’ve taken time out of your nights to help him.”
“You’re welcome,” Clara politely said between bites.
“I must say I’m surprised a beautiful girl like you wouldn’t rather be out partying on a Friday night.”
Adam shifted in his chair. He didn’t like where his mother was headed. He assumed she would ask general questions, not investigate every detail he stretched to no end. He should have known better.
“It’s no problem,” Clara replied. “It’s not all that late.”
Angela Beaumont waved her perfectly manicured nails in the air. “Oh, to be young again. In my day, eight p.m. would’ve been the perfect time to go out. Although, I have to say it’s nice to know Adam is home by midnight. He hasn’t tried anything after he walks you back to the dorms, has he?”
The sound of near choking echoed off the walls as Clara asked, “Ex-excuse me?”
“Mother, please!” Adam scolded.
“Given the circumstance, I believe it’s a valid question,” his mother argued with a harsh look.
Adam had to force his gaze past his mother to keep his anger at bay. His father’s favorite painting stared back. It was like looking at a reflection of what his life was going to become if his mother had her way. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I disagree.”
“Agree or not, we can’t have you falling back into old habits.”
Adam’s eyes shifted toward Clara. The look on her face resembled a lost puppy. It was clear she was caught in the middle of a domestic battle.
“Mother,” he warned.
Ignoring him, Angela turned to Clara. “I’m sorry to have to drag you into this, but you see, I have to ensure that my son isn’t paying someone else to do his work.”
“I’ve never paid someone to do my work for me.”
“Yes, but you did exchange something far more important for passing grades. Something that cost a student her assistant position. And something that will not be tolerated at this University.”
Adam’s jaw dropped. His mother had brought the waves crashing down on him. Frozen by he icy words, it took Adam a moment to register that Clara was politely excusing herself from the table. Adam turned his head in time to watch her brown hair bouncing off her shoulders as she scurried out of the dining room and toward the door.
“Nice, mother,” he snapped before speeding off after Clara. He was amazed she had already made it out the door and halfway down the front entrance. “Clara, wait!”
“Why?” The tone of her voice cut right through Adam’s core. “So you can feed me more lies?”
“Clara, let me explain—”
“Explain what exactly? How your mother thinks we meet two hours later than we actually do? At first, I thought she was mistaken, but then she said you walk me home after?”
Adam searched frantically for something to say to make it better. He expected her to be upset, but she sounded downright pissed. “Clara, please—”
“No, Adam. You can lie to your mom all you want, but count me out!”
“Clara, just listen to me.”
She replied with a hard stare, her chest rising and falling with each angry breath she took.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything,” he rushed out. “I just thought the less you knew the better. Then you wouldn’t have to lie if it ever came up.”
“How thoughtful.” Her words were laced with heavy sarcasm. “Obviously, being blindsided was the better option.”
“I’m sorry. I really am.” He prayed she would see the sincerity in his face. “Next time—”
“No,” she interrupted. “There’s not going to be a next time. I quit. I can’t have your mother, who happens to be the Dean, thinking that you’re paying me to do your work.”
“She doesn’t think that.” Adam tried to reach for her hand, as if it would make her understand his deceit. If he could just touch her, maybe she would understand.
“You’re right,” Clara said as she pulled out of his reach. “She thinks I’m some kind of tutoring prostitute. Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather take the check.” Clara turned to storm off, but so
mething caused her to spin back around. Adam felt a brief moment of joy before her scolding words knocked the breath out of him. “Is that why you kissed me? Because you thought you could manipulate me into doing your work? Passing grades for a night with Adam Beaumont?”
“No! Clara, I would never do that you.”
How could she think that?
She seemed unaffected by his plea. It only fueled her rage. “At least when Corin kissed me it was because he wanted to.”
“What?” Adam had to take a step back. “When?”
“It’s really none of your business.”
“Bullshit it isn’t.” His head was beginning to spin as each one of his veins filled with jealousy. He thought she didn’t like Corin. Why would she kiss him? What kind of game was she playing? Ridiculous questions spun around his head and before he knew it he said, “I didn’t take you as that type of girl. Who’s next on your list? Luke? Marcus?”
The moment the words left his idiotic lips, Adam wished he could take them back. Clara’s mouth opened in utter shock. He felt like the world’s largest tool as he watched her struggle to stay composed.
She was already accused of enough during the lunch. Before he could even attempt to apologize, Clara looked him dead in the eye. “Go to hell, Adam. And find a new tutor while you’re there.”
Her words were as sharp as a knife and cut through him just as easily. He stormed back into the house, unable to watch Clara walk away from him. He knew it was his own dumb fault. The moment he saw his mother still sitting at the table, calmly finishing her lunch, he lost it.
“What the hell was that about?” he bellowed.
His mother dabbed the cloth napkin over her lips before warning, “Watch your tone, young man.”
“My … my tone? Are you serious? You attack my friend under the pretense of a lunch date, and I’m the one that needs to watch his tone?”
“Are you sure she’s just a friend?”
“Yes, Mother. You told me I can’t date like I’m some damn child, and what do I do? Exactly as you ask. You told me to bring up my grades, so I hire a tutor. What more do you want from me?”
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