Educated

by Gray Gardner

  “Please don’t let me keep you,” he nodded, turning and sighing. Why wasn’t he asking for her number? Turn around and ask for her number. He stared out blankly into the ballroom instead, thinking he needed another scotch.

  His breath caught in his throat as his scan of the room fell upon his table. His dad was leaning back in his chair, holding out a cigar and obviously going over the finer points of smoking with another man. His sister was standing perfectly still in a knee length black and white cocktail dress, mouth agape. He followed her gaze past the large flower bouquet in the middle of the table to his mother, gesturing and obviously giving someone the worst tongue lashing of their lives. He couldn’t see, though, because the damned flowers were in the way, but if his sister was staring, his dad purposely ignoring, and his mom was berating, something was terribly wrong.

  He stepped forward and made his way to the table, breath suddenly catching in his throat yet again. His lip curled up into a slight smile. He should have known. Damn the gods of fortune, or perhaps praise them, he should have known only one person on the planet could possibly get his mother so worked up in such a short amount of time.

  “Mary Madeline Tucker,” she grinned, signing the inside cover of her book and smiling up at the man in the tuxedo. “Here you go. Thanks.”

  She scooted her chair forward slightly so that the white skirt of the long rectangular table by the wall of the ballroom covered up her legs a little more. She knew she shouldn’t have trusted that stupid editor. This dress was barely long enough to qualify as a shirt. She glanced back at the wall behind her, a small picture of her on an easel mocking her with a closed mouth grin, and then scanned the table on either side of her.

  She was one of six authors being recognized by the local Historical Society’s annual fundraiser, and she was totally shocked that nearly ten of her books were already gone. They didn’t really sell outside of Texas except a few here and there online. The five male authors/historians on either side of her kept stealing glances at her. She inwardly rolled her eyes and tugged the hem of her dress down.

  After her unfulfilling confrontation with Dr. Frasier that afternoon she’d run home only to find a package and a note on her doorstep. Her editor was supposed to fly in and join her at the high society function but had cancelled last minute, or so said the note. But to make it up to his favorite client he’d sent a designer dress that was sure to make an impression on the east coast socialites.

  Well, sure, it made one hell of an impression. She’d reluctantly checked her coat in the foyer to the museum and stared at her silver Kate Spade pumps as she hurried to shake hands with the curator and Historical Society chair members before disappearing behind the cover of the honoree’s table. The dress was silver with a jewel neckline and A-line shape that hung loosely right above mid-thigh. Way, way too freaking short. At least her long hair covered up her bare shoulders a little bit. She’d never forgive her editor for this.

  “Hey, cowgirl.”

  She looked up from her silk stocking covered legs at the salt and pepper haired author sitting next to her. His stack of books was completely gone.

  “Bathroom and champagne break. Smoke break, too.”

  “Oh,” she quietly replied, as everyone behind the table stood up and stretched their legs as the band played underneath the twinkle lights of the room. “Thanks.”

  “Gerald,” he nodded, grinning as his eyes helplessly dropped to her legs as she stood up and smoothed out her hem.

  “Gerald,” she replied, walking around the table and scooting into the large bathroom as quickly as she could.

  Staring at herself in the mirror of the black tiled bathroom, her pale skin and light silvery dress a contrast to the dark décor, she wondered why in the world she’d let her editor talk her into attending this thing. She didn’t know a single person… oh, except for Gerald, and now she was expected to mingle in the crowd and stand up and wave as the curator introduced the honorees and keynote speaker. She wanted the earth to open up and swallow her, instead.

  “Cute dress,” a woman said, smiling in the mirror at her as she washed her hands.

  “Oh, thanks,” Mary replied, looking embarrassed. This woman was appropriately dressed with most of her body covered.

  “C.C. King, right?” she asked, drying her hands and nodding in recognition of the famous designer.

  “Um, yes…”

  “Recognize it from her show last fall,” the woman winked, walking behind her and smoothing out her dark blonde hair as she towered over her. “Not many people can pull off that look. Kudos.”

  Mary frowned as the door swung closed behind the woman. Well, she certainly didn’t feel quite as bad as before, but she still wished that she could locate one of the chair members and excuse herself so that she could just go home.

  Timidly, she walked out of the bathroom and made her way to one of the many bars set up around the room. Champagne was quickly handed to her, so she turned and sipped. Well, that didn’t take up too much time. She sidestepped as people approached the bar and sort of stood off by a wall covered in presidential letters. Maybe she should read a letter instead of looking so pathetically alone.

  “You know, I just don’t understand young ladies today.”

  Mary looked up to her right from reading a very boring letter to congress from a president “somewhere in the middle” as her sister always said and gave the silver haired woman a puzzled look. The woman just stared down her nose at her.

  “Uh, I’m sorry,” Mary softly replied, starting to sweat underneath the gaze of this tall woman. “Were you talking to me? I didn’t hear…”

  “I said that I am surprised a young woman would show up at an event like this dressed the way you are,” she replied, raising a severely shaped eyebrow.

  Mary sighed and looked down at the hardwood floor, cursing her stupid editor once more. She actually agreed with the tall angry lady. “I… I know…”

  “Do you think it’s appropriate to bare that much skin at a formal event? At any event?”

  Mary shook her head and sipped her drink, turning her eyes up to the woman.

  “Are you even old enough to drink? Where are your parents?” she snapped, looking around the room like she knew who her parents were.

  “I’m actually a student at…”

  She was quickly cut off as the woman grabbed her champagne glass and yanked it away, setting it on the table behind her.

  “I asked you where your parents were. I’m sure they’ll be less than thrilled,” she interrupted, placing a manicured hand on her hip. She looked like every time she spoke everyone obeyed. She also looked totally pissed.

  Mary frowned and stepped back. It really got on her nerves when people insisted that she was just a kid. She knew she looked young. She didn’t need everyone reminding her of that.

  “Feel free to call them. Do you have an international plan and a truckload of patience? They’re probably sleeping one off at the Ritz in Paris right now, but I’m sure they’ll answer your call,” she replied, leaning around the woman and taking her drink off of the table.

  “I do not appreciate your tone of voice,” the woman snarled, both hands on her hips now.

  Mary threw her head back and finished her drink. She swallowed and winked at the woman as she turned to leave. “Most people around here don’t.”

  Walk away. Just walk away. This lady was probably one of the people who voted on which authors would be honored tonight and Mary should be grateful. A cold hand with long, bejeweled fingers suddenly grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. She had to take hold of a chair to steady her feet.

  Ooh, the lady looked positively incensed. “Shall I have you removed from the vicinity?” she asked in a creepy quiet voice.

  “Uh…” Mary didn’t have a brilliant answer. She actually did want to leave but… damn if she wasn’t stubborn. She didn’t want this woman to call this a victory.

  “Oh, good. You’ve met.”

  Mary look
ed over her shoulder at the tall woman from the bathroom. Frowning, she looked back at the older woman as the younger one spoke.

  “Mom, are you all right? Never mind. Look, it’s the C.C. King we saw during Fashion Week. Can you believe she can pull it off? I think if I tried to wear it my underwear would show…”

  “Nicole!” the woman snapped, drawing the attention of about four or five people standing by. She took a breath to compose herself as her daughter pressed her lips together to hide a smile. Mary was suddenly thankful for nice strangers.

  “Oh Mom, you know how high fashion works. Hemlines come and go like men…”

  “Do not speak like that, Nicole,” her mother scolded. Mary tried to take a step back out of the line of fire. “Where do you think you’re going? Who is your family? How are you associated with the Historical Society?”

  “Mother,” Nicole began, widening her eyes at her.

  “Go and find your date, young lady! I’m going to take care of this.”

  Nicole’s eyes widened as her mother reached forward and grabbed a hold of Mary’s ear.

  Startled, Mary cried out the first thing that could escape her lips. “Ow! Shit!”

  “I think it’s time to take you and your trashy mouth and trashy clothes out!”

  “God! Ouch! Let go you crazy old cunt!” Mary managed to mutter through gritted teeth as the woman held her ear and pulled at the little diamond stud in it. It really hurt.

  “What did you just say?”

  Mary stopped struggling at the sound of that voice, opening her scrunched up eyes and sucking in her breath. Oh God… ohgodohgodohgod… what was Dr. Frasier doing there? She stood perfectly still, mouth agape for a few moments before she realized that the woman had let go of her ear.

  “Mary Madeline?” he loudly asked, raising his brow. After her lack of response he turned to the older woman. “Mother?”

  “Mother!” Mary finally blurted, frowning at the two. No way. Mother? His mother? Her luck couldn’t possibly be that bad.

  “Maitland? You know this little girl?” the woman who was, of course, Dr. Frasier’s bitch mother asked.

  “Careful,” Nicole uttered, leaning in. “Mom’s off her meds.”

  Oh, how perfect. She’d come to an event where not only her crazy professor was in attendance, but his whole fucking family. Closing her eyes, she hung her head and rubbed her ear.

  “Mary Madeline is one of my students,” Dr. Frasier sighed heavily, turning his glare from his mother down to her. “Mary Madeline, did I just hear you say what I think you did?”

  Nodding once, she couldn’t even deny it. She’d done it, unabashedly, after all. Fuck. She continued staring at the toes of her shoes, wishing that she would have just left when she’d finished at the honoree’s table.

  Feedback briefly shrieked through the sound system as someone spoke into a microphone and began thanking the band and asking everyone to be seated so the presentation could begin. Mary quickly spun on her heel to try and find her table and the safety of the other boring authors. Gerald and his wandering eyes were looking pretty damn good at the moment. A hand grabbed her elbow and squeezed so tightly it started to hurt. Then a voice came from behind her, so close to her ear she could feel the hot breath and smell the remnants of expensive shaving cream.

  “I am so angry right now that I don’t trust myself to be anywhere alone with you.” She swallowed as Dr. Frasier continued, head bowed to her ear. “But I sure as hell am not letting you out of my sight for the rest of the evening. We have a lot to discuss later on. I suggest you take a seat without a scene, Mary Madeline.”

  God, why was it so infuriating and so hot when he said her name like that? Her toes actually curled in her shoes as her skin tingled everywhere. The six people seated at the table stared at them and their quiet exchange.

  She smelled so sweet as he hovered behind her ear. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do at the moment, though. She’d insulted his mother, hadn’t denied it at all, but most importantly she was… there. Was this her big date with the McAndrews kid? Had she lied? His lip twitched but he fought down a smile as she tried to walk away again. The whole evening just grew exponentially more exciting.

  “Sit down,” he ordered quietly, pushing her into the chair next to him. Before Nicole could bark out a laugh, or his dad could pretend nothing was going on, or his mom could spit out a protest, he held up his hand. “Mary Madeline is a graduate student in my Historiography course. We’ll be discussing her behavior this evening after the speeches. You’ll have to excuse me then so that I can see her home.”

  Chapter 9

  Mary frowned as she looked over at him, mouth hanging open. If he thought she was going to stick around for however long these Historical Society people were going to speak and praise each other for being rich, just so he could corner her in her own home again and… well, he was mistaken. She prepared to explain that to him but was cut off by applause that quickly filled the room. Vaguely she became aware of the woman speaking on the small stage.

  “Gerald Tanner, A World Apart: Theories and Inconsistencies of Roanoke.”

  Applause.

  “Mary Madeline Tucker, Brother Against Brother: The Final Battle of the Civil War.”

  Oh God. Swallowing and folding her hands in front of her, she slowly stood and nodded once as people clapped and looked around the room for her. She didn’t blame their strange looks. She looked a lot different than the old boring historians who had authored the very well known books. She tugged at the hem of her dress self-consciously, smiled at the speaker, and then quickly sat back down. Her cheeks felt warm as she waited for the speech to continue.

  Dr. Frasier’s scotch caught in his throat and burned through his nose and esophagus. His eyes bore into her little frame as she stood, looking terribly uncomfortable at the attention, then promptly sat back down next to him. That’s what her big plans were? She was being honored at a society function? Well, she’d written a book. He guessed he shouldn’t be quite so surprised.

  She glanced quickly at him with pink cheeks. God, she was so adorable. And in that dress? Hotter than any other woman in attendance that evening. Too bad she’d called his mother the worst thing you could possibly call a woman. Or maybe not too bad. They’d both seemed to have enjoyed themselves the last time she’d been in trouble. He cleared his throat and leaned in. “You had to lie to me about what you were doing tonight?”

  Her mouth dropped open as she turned and looked at him in surprise. “I… I didn’t lie,” she stammered.

  “Oh?” he asked, as everyone around them applauded for the keynote speaker. “And where is young William McAndrews this evening?”

  Her eyes turned downward as she pressed her lips together, then quickly shot back up at him. “You assumed I was doing something with him.”

  She had a point. Leaning back in his chair, he stared at her with the straightest face he could conjure. She might have been a little scared at the moment, but that little temper wouldn’t remain harnessed for very long.

  His disapproving glare made her squirm. The anger began to bubble up inside her. Why did he even care? For that matter, why did she? This was getting ridiculous. She was a grown woman. She’d written a book. Her editor made her do stuff like this. End of story. “I can’t be held responsible for all of your foolish assumptions,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest as the speaker clicked through a slide presentation on the stage behind her.

  He casually placed an arm over the back of her chair and leaned in. “Had I known you were coming, and in such a stunning dress, I would have brought you myself.”

  Her cheeks flushed again and he heard her breath catch. She was turning him on and she didn’t even know it. That’s how bad he had it.

  “I… wouldn’t have come with you and your family. I’m already intruding enough just by sitting at your table,” she whispered, as everyone’s eyes turned to them at frequent intervals.

  “Don’t worry, once my mom g
ets to know you, she won’t act so batshit crazy,” he grinned, watching her cheeks grow pinker.

  “I don’t want to get to know your mom! Why would I be getting to know your mom?”

  He just laughed and gently ran his thumb across her bare shoulder, causing her to jump and squirm even more. Yeah, she wanted him, too.

  Holy shit, she’d felt a jolt of electricity as the hand that was on the back of her chair gently brushed on top of her shoulder. What was it about him? Sure, he was hot and smart and for some reason focusing a lot of attention on her. Was that all it took? Surely not. The twinge of feelings in her lower abdomen said otherwise. She pressed her thighs together under the table and tried to concentrate on the speech.

  “I hope you’re thinking about what’s going to happen to you once I get you home,” he softly but sternly said, tormenting her. It tormented him, too, because it was all that occupied his thoughts.

  She did not appreciate being teased. Squinting her eyes in the dimly lit room, she glared over at him, getting the attention off of her. “Your name is Maitland?” she sneered, raising her brow as she recalled what his mother had called him.

  Now it was his turn to frown. No one ever dared to make fun of him. He was tall and imposing with broad shoulders and a lean waist, not to mention his quick wit that could counter any verbal attack. He cleared his throat and sipped his drink. “My friends call me Mait.”

  “As in g’day?” she mocked, smiling over at him.

  “As in, you may call me Professor Frasier,” he growled in warning.

  “Mait,” she said to herself, testing out the name and ignoring him completely. The name was as interesting as he was. She thought about him kissing her, then about rehashing it to her friends from home. Would she explain that Dr. Frasier had kissed her? Or, she said it out loud again, “Mait.”

  He couldn’t stop himself. Suddenly his mind went to a dangerous place the second time his name crossed her shimmery pink lips in that soft little accent. Mait, oh God. Yes, you’re making me come. Mait!