Naughty Professor - A Standalone Teacher Romance

by Claire Adams

  "Nice?" Penn's voice was gravelly, his lips just inches from mine. "I have a conference call in five minutes. Nice would be leaving me some use of my brain before I go to work."

  I broke his embrace and stepped back. "Well, lucky for you, you got me out of your system. Good luck with work."

  Penn growled and caught me back against his chest. He brushed my hair aside and leaned down to speak into my ear. "Stop pretending, Corsica. Just tell me what you want."

  I twisted to face him. "I'm not pretending. And for the first time in a long time, I'm not limiting myself to what I want."

  "I wish that were true," Penn said, the air squeezing out of his voice. "God, how I wish that were true."

  "Why don't you ever believe me?" I arched back to stare him down.

  Penn ground his teeth. "I can't believe you because I can't figure out what you want. I can't understand what you actually love. I don't understand you at all."

  I walked my fingers back up his chest and tangled them in his beard. Then, I pulled his dark eyes close enough that I could see the gold flecks ignite.

  "I want to be happy. I want to sing on that small stage with that heavenly jazz combo again. I want to see the audience smiling, to know their hearts are swelling like mine when the chorus comes. I want to lie back in the quiet night and see the stars above me. And, you beside me."

  "Beside you?" Penn asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.

  "You know what I love?" I asked, my lips almost brushing his. "I love that when I'm with you, I don't want anything but you."

  Those words seemed to chase everything other sound out of the room. We stood there locked in a vacuum until my lungs screamed for air. I was holding my breath, hoping that Penn would answer me in kind.

  Then his phone rang. "The conference call," he rasped.

  I let go and stepped back, but his hand closed around my wrist in an iron grip. "Wait," Penn said. "It's my mother. She just got out of her appointment."

  I only heard one side of the conversation and Penn's responses were mostly monosyllables, but his expression was loud and clear. I forgot about teasing him, forgot about the interview I turned down, and forgot about all the wild hopes I had for my future.

  "Is she okay?" I asked when Penn hung up his phone.

  "She wouldn't say, but her voice sounded strange." Penn blinked and wrapped an arm around me. "She wants us to meet her at Pinnacles as soon as possible. My father's on his way with his helicopter."

  I slipped my arms around Penn's waist and squeezed him tight. "There are going to be ups and downs. It doesn't mean the fight is over. Don't worry until Alice has told you everything."

  Penn pressed his forehead to my hair. "She sounded so faint. My mother has never sounded faint in her life."

  I pressed my cheek to his chest and hugged him closer. "Don't worry before you know everything. You have every reason to still be hopeful."

  Penn's muscles were jittering as if he was trying to hold himself together and the strain was too much. "Were you hopeful right up to the end?" he asked in a breaking voice.

  I nodded against his chest and squeezed my eyes tight. I drove away the final images I had of my mother and pictured her in her Sunday dress on our sunny front steps. That memory of her all bright and beautiful helped me answer his question.

  "I kept my hope right up to the end because it was all I had. And, it helped. It really did, Penn. Don't give up," I whispered.

  He held me, one hand smoothing over my hair and we comforted each other. Then the front door slammed and we both jumped. Xavier stormed down the stairs before we could untangle from each other's arms. When I saw his face, I held fast to Penn.

  Xavier looked dead pale except for his bloodshot eyes. He blinked hard to chase away the remaining tears and his jaw clenched. "Did your mother call?" he bit out.

  "Yes," Penn said, "but she didn't tell me anything. What did she tell you?"

  "Nothing. Goddamn, I need a drink." I started forward, but Xavier held up two hands. "I haven't touched a drop, but it's making me feel like tearing my skin off."

  "Go ahead," Penn snarled. "Have a drink. Finish a bottle. It'll be just like old times and maybe then we can pretend that my mother isn't dying."

  "Your mother?" Xavier shouted. "As if that means you love her more. I love her."

  The two men squared off, tense and overwrought. I took a deep breath and stepped between them. Penn growled and Xavier's hard eyes narrowed, but I held my ground.

  "Whatever this is can wait until later," I declared. "And right now, we don't know what Alice has to say. The important thing is to meet her and listen to what she wants to tell you."

  Xavier's hard exterior cracked. "Why? Why are you still here?"

  Penn wrapped an arm around me and pulled me back against his chest. "She's here because I want her here."

  "Really?" Xavier snapped. "Because you could have fooled all of Monterey. You're so busy pushing her away when you think no one is looking. What is wrong with you?"

  "Everything that is wrong with me is standing right in front of me," Penn bellowed.

  "Um, Corsica?" Ginny's hesitant voice dropped down from the stairwell. "There's a helicopter landing on the front lawn."

  I pulled free of Penn's arm and swiped back my hair. "I'm here because you two can't deal with this on your own," I snapped. "I'm here because otherwise, you'd spend all your time arguing and forget that the woman you love has something to say. Now, shut up and get in the helicopter."

  I lead the way up the stairs and didn't stop until Ginny wrapped me in a quick hug. "You're an angel. What can I do?"

  I lowered my voice and hoped that Penn was too distracted to hear. "Could you go on my laptop and send my apologies to the hospitality director at the Ritz? I should still be logged in, if you don't mind forging an email."

  "Done and done, and I love you," Ginny said.

  "What was all that about?" Penn asked as we headed out the front door.

  I shrugged. "Just following up on a decision I made this morning."

  "You're taking that awful ass-kissing job at the Ritz-Carlton, aren't you?" Penn groaned. "I knew you were still tied up on the money thing. Jesus, Corsica, when are you going to realize there are more important things than money?"

  I saw the pain and worry in his eyes, but his stubborn misunderstanding made me angry. I planted my feet on the front steps and faced him. "I canceled my interview this morning, and good thing, too, otherwise I would have missed it. At least now they know that I'm pursuing another line of work. I'm glad turned it down and didn't have to cancel last minute."

  "Cancel what last minute?" Xavier joined us on the front steps and buttoned up his suit coat.

  Penn's mouth worked, but it was moment before he spat out. "You turned down the job interview at the Ritz?"

  Xavier snorted. "She doesn't need that job. You should have heard her sing last night."

  "I did," Penn snapped. "I bribed the guy that runs the spotlight to let me watch from up there. I saw her sing. I heard every note you sang, Corsica."

  "What is with you and the unnecessary lies?" Xavier asked.

  "Me?" Penn turned on his father with a clenched fist.

  "What is wrong with you two?" I yelled as the helicopter engine roared to life. "None of this matters right now. Alice is waiting, and she either has good news or bad. All you two have to do is sit on that helicopter and wait to hear which one it is. Do you think you can manage that?"

  "I'm glad you're here," Xavier said. He spun on his heel and signaled to his helicopter pilot.

  Penn slipped his hand into mine and intertwined our fingers. "I can manage it, if you're with me."

  "I am," I said. "And, Penn? I'm not pretending."

  #

  "I don't want to admit it. I'm not ready to admit it," Alice said in a tremulous voice.

  Penn's fingers, still intertwined with mine, flexed. "Just tell us," he begged.

  "Let her say it in her own way," I whispered.

/>   Alice's eyes brightened as she looked at me. Then, her attention returned to Xavier and their son. "I was hesitant to go to the doctors in the first place. I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up."

  I fought off my own growing panic and concentrated on keeping my breath slow and steady. Penn was so rigid I was afraid he would crack. Xavier was exactly the same, his clenched jaw expression the exact origin of his son's worried look.

  "I guess it was good that I didn't trust them because then my hopes weren't tied to modern medicine. That left room for the real miracle," Alice said.

  No one said a word. In the silence, I was sure that Penn had stopped breathing.

  Alice reached out and took Xavier's hand. "The cancer cells are disappearing. The doctors think that full remission might be possible. Either way, I'm doing better now than I was before you all came and forced my hand."

  "You're better?" Xavier asked with the blank look of shock.

  "Yes," Alice grinned. "I'm much better."

  "Oh my God. Oh thank God." Penn spun away and pulled me with him. On the edge of Alice's grove, he stopped under an oak tree and sank to the ground.

  Still intertwined by the hand, I knelt down beside him. As soon as I settled onto the grass, Penn collapsed into my lap. There was no sound, but his shoulders heaved and hot tears soaked my skirt. I held his hand tight and used my other to brush back his unruly hair.

  "Shh," I crooned over him. "Now you can let it all go. Let it go and let yourself be happy."

  "Happy?" Penn snuffled against my skirt and sat up. "Is this happy?"

  I smiled and smoothed away his smudged tears. "This is shock. Relief. Probably a little anger that you had to go through all this in the first place. Once you get all of that out of your system, you'll feel happy."

  "Out of my system," Penn murmured. "You know, I lied about that. I know I'll never get you out of my system."

  "Shh, we don't have to talk about that now."

  Penn let go of my hand and took both my shoulders. "I need to thank you. I need to stop lying to you."

  "What you need to do is get up and go hug your mother," I said. "Your father, too, if you can manage it."

  Penn pulled me to my feet, and I saw the flicker of a scowl pass over his lips. "One step at a time."

  "You're right," I said, "and the first step is to go and celebrate with your family. I'll give you a minute."

  In all honesty, it was me that needed a minute. Once Penn had rejoined his mother and father and I could hear their laughter, I stumbled past the oak tree and into the thicker undergrowth. Somewhere in the tangle of ferns and tall grass, I dropped to my knees. The sobs were silent and all the more painful for the lack of sound.

  His mother, Penn's beautiful mother, was going to get well. He had countless more dinners and holidays and casual chats with her. I was glad, so glad for him, but all I could was cry. I cried in relief that this time hope had worked, at the same time as I mourned the time that hope hadn't been enough for my own mother.

  "Corsica?" Xavier asked. He brushed aside the ferns and held out a hand.

  I waved him away. "I just need a minute."

  He sat down in the dirt with me, despite his pristine suit. "I don't know how I'm going to thank you for all this. No, don't wave me off. You were a huge part of this."

  I gave up and let Xavier pull me to my feet. "I'm just so glad it was good news."

  He smiled. "The good news is that I'm going to kick my son's ass from here to next Wednesday if he doesn't find a way to thank you properly."

  Xavier led me back to the Alice's yurt and right up to Penn. Alice unwound her brightly clad arms from her son's waist and cupped my face. "Sweet girl, I thought you would be the first one to declare a celebration and the last one to shed tears."

  "We're going to let them celebrate on their own," Xavier declared. "How about one of those luxury tents? The one with the chandelier?"

  Penn rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Anything. I'm so happy, I'll do anything."

  I found my voice again. "Then how about we settle something once and for all," I said. Penn's jaw dropped, worried that I was about to reveal our silly charade. I laughed. "Take me out along your favorite trail and we'll see who the real camper is."

  "You're trading a night in one of your opulent 'glamping' dreams to hike a long, dusty trail and sleep on the ground?" Penn asked.

  I nodded. "Proving you wrong is my kind of celebration."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Penn - 16

  It was hard to admit that the pace Corsica set was impressive. I had forgotten that she ran every morning, usually along the beach, and that underneath her pretty sundresses was a fit, athletic body. She marched along the trail with fiery determination. There was nothing to do but focus on the hike and enjoy the view.

  Corsica had switched out her breezy sundress for a pair of tailored, khaki shorts and a sky-blue tank top. Every time I glanced over the curve of her back, I thought the shirt was the color of her eyes. After the silly thought reoccurred a few times, I wished the incline was more punishing. I was having trouble keeping my mind on our trip.

  The biggest problem was I couldn't believe we were out there. I kept thinking Corsica must be a daydream in front of me. I was still amazed and pleased that this had been her idea.

  "Couldn't find a bigger pack?" I asked.

  Corsica tossed a look over her shoulder. "It's the same size as your pack."

  "Except mine is full of necessities like a frying pan and food. How many dresses, skirts, and outfits did you pack?"

  She stopped on the trail and spun around to face me. "I've got the coffee grounds and press, plus half the water. What, is your pack too heavy? Do you need me to take on more?"

  I laughed and brushed a wavy curl out of her face. "No. I'm just teasing you."

  Corsica swatted my hand away. "Why? You can't think of anything better to say?"

  I shoved her along the trail and was glad when she turned back around. It was annoying how quickly she saw through me. What was I supposed to talk about? How beautiful the day was or how the sound of the stream far below us was slowly lulling me into a happy stupor?

  I could have told her how happy I was to be out with her and how my heart tripped every time I thought about having her all to myself for days.

  "Just so you know," I said, "I'm not going to dress for dinner. I left my suit and tie at home."

  Corsica snorted. "That's your loss. Don't you know how great it feels to dress for dinner?"

  I caught her hand and pointed across the stream. "There's a good spot to camp. How about I set us up and then you can explain how a stuffy, snobby ritual can feel good."

  By the time I was done with the tent, Corsica had the fire pit dug and ringed with large rocks. She'd even gathered a few nice logs and a decent pile of kindling. She was laying out the cooking stuff when I finished securing the rain flap.

  "See? What's the point of dressing for dinner when there's only going to be one course. I hope you like roasted veggies and hot dogs," I said.

  "And pasta," Corsica said. She unearthed a cooking pot and box of macaroni from her pack. "And wine. Your father snuck it in before we left."

  I pulled over a log and sat down. "So you're really going to make me dress for dinner?"

  Corsica brushed back her hair and put her hands on her hips. "What's so bad about it? Everyone takes a few minutes to relax, get cleaned up. I think changing clothes and freshening up sets the whole tone for the evening."

  She held out the cooking pot. "I'll start the fire while you filter some stream water. Once the pot's set to boil, we'll retire to our separate quarters and dress for dinner."

  I took the pot. "Separate quarters?"

  "The stream side of the tent is yours and the hill side is mine. No talking, no teasing. I'll see you in ten minutes or so." After lighting the fire, Corsica rummaged through her pack, pulled out a black, cotton dress and her brush, then disappeared behind her side of the tent.

&nbs
p; I filled up the water filter and splashed cold water on my face. After scrubbing off the sweat and putting on a clean shirt, I almost had to admit she was on to something. Then I saw her and knew I had to admit she was right.

  Corsica's hair was loose and soft, brushed to a glossy shine. She'd worn it in a braid all day but now let it spill over her shoulders. The black dress was soft, billowing and clinging to her tight form in turns.

  I stood up and offered her my log. "My lady," I bowed.

  Her lips quirked up. "Thank you, kind sir. So, don't you feel better?"

  The peace of the burbling stream and the idle call of the songbirds had lulled me into contentment. My body was tired from the long hike, but in a loose and relaxed way. I felt calm and happy, but I couldn't admit all of that to her. "I always feel better when I'm out camping. That's why I started the business I did."

  Corsica chopped up the vegetables while I uncorked the wine. "So you're an entrepreneur," she said.

  I didn't like the way she said the word, like I was just some rich boy playing at a job. "I prefer innovator. I spend most of my time on camping trips like this so I have firsthand knowledge of how my equipment works and what improvements can be made."

  She tossed the vegetables in the frying pan with a slosh of olive oil. "Are you one of those people who doesn't think inspiration can strike in the office?"

  I laughed and dropped down to sit beside her. "God, how do you always call me on everything? So I've built up the perfect excuse to stay out of the office. I've found a job I love."

  Corsica nudged me in the shoulder. "I like seeing you at work, out here. Makes me feel like I'm actually starting to get to know you."

  "We might not know each other yet, but we know this." I caught her smile in a kiss.

  There was a hunger between us that was far more important than dinner. Our passion ignited faster than the campfire.

  While the water heated and the vegetables began to sizzle, I laid Corsica down on the soft moss. She skimmed her hands up to my shoulders and drew me down. Our mouths tasted, then devoured, our bodies consuming each other.