Page 16 of My Forbidden Professor

My brows rise. “Your father must have a successful business.”

Her lips part and she sucks in a sharp breath. “How do you know how successful my father’s business is? Do you know him?”

There’s a slightly panicked edge to her tone and I don’t like hearing it there. I don’t know what I said but I also don’t want her defensive. “Not at all. But it’s a logical conclusion. Your father would have to run a bigger-sized business if he talked to you about that level of running it.”

Her gaze returns to the menu and she fidgets with the edge again. “I guess some would call it big where I’m from.”

I want to ask her where she’s from. What business her father runs. Hell, her knowledge keeps me vigilant. “And where is that?”

Her lips press together and she flicks another of her unsure gazes my way before she drops her eyes back to the table. “New York.”

“State or city?” I press. New York is a big place. I want to know exactly where she’s from.

The pause grows long enough for me to know she’s stalling. I’m about to press when the waitress comes from behind me and places our order on the table. “There we go. Burgers. Fries and drinks. Would you like anything else while I’m here?”

“No thank you. We’re good for now.” I’ll make sure to remember to order two pieces of the apple pie I saw in the cabinet when we came here. But later. It will give me an excuse to keep Steph here a little while longer. I don’t want this day to end. Or this dissertation. For the first time in years, I’ve…enjoyed myself.

“Here you go.” I slide one serve of the fries next to her burger. “This is for you.”

She leans against the seat and shakes her head. “But I didn’t pay for it.”

“Consider it sustenance because I’ve kept you working all day and I know you have other subjects you have to work on. Granted, they’re not as wildly exciting as business analytics, but the work still needs to be done,” I say, aiming to lace some humor into my words to relax her.

She’s not relaxed though, and she’s eyeing the fries and worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Money is a sticking point for her.

“It’s okay, Steph. You’re doing me the favor. I need another paper to my name to keep my tenure as professor.”

She scoffs. “You already have five. More than most people your age in your position.”

Warmth diffuses in the center of my chest. “You’ve noticed?”

Color dusts her cheeks, but my stomach eases when she picks up a fry and pops it in her mouth. “Shall we continue while we eat? I’m sure you have better things to do than work all day with me.”

No. I don’t. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

I start to formulate words to that effect that won’t scare her off when the bell over the door rings and several of my students walk in. They take the booth nearest the door and sit without noticing us. Not that they would. They’re deep in animated conversation and looking as though they’re having fun. Something I’ve noticed Steph never has. I turn to find her rammed into the corner as far as she can fold herself and hunkered down with her screen covering most of her face.

She’s hiding from everyone and my mind jumps to the scene in the lecture room.

“Is Daniel Adam causing problems with other students? I can have a word with the Dean and have him expelled. Just say the word, and I’ll have him taken care of tonight. You’ll never have to see him on campus again.” There’s enough of a growl in my voice that her eyes flare and the pretty rose hue drains from her cheeks.

“No!” She jolts, then collects herself. “No. It’s not that…I promise. There’s nothing to worry about.”

But there is. And I do. “Then what is worrying you? Tell me and I’ll help you.”

She shakes her head and disappears behind the computer she uses as a shield. “You’re doing more than enough just by letting me do this paper with you. I can’t ask for more than that.”

I hear the wistful note in her voice. The longing that washes over her face. She’s covering up again, but the more I push, the harder she’ll push back. I nod. I make a point of picking up my burger and taking a bite and watch as she does the same, taking a smaller, much daintier bite than mine.

“There’s a little café in my home town that’s like this. The burgers are similar too. I go there every time I go back home.” I try to sound conversational. A hard task when every sense is locked onto her.

I’m rewarded when her gaze returns to me. “It’s exactly like this?”

“The fries are a little crispier. I think it has to do with the country air.”

“Fries don’t get crispy because of country air.” She takes another bite. Her lips close over the burger bun and my stomach does a slow languid roll that drops into my balls.

“It does in Willowbrook.” I watch as I reel her in.

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