Page 35 of Forbidden Heroes

I set aside the newspaper and take out my report, surprised by how calm my movements are compared to my racing heart.

“Since I haven’t left yet, I’ll allow it, Ms. Johnson. Once.” He holds my gaze and for all of a fraction of a few seconds, I swear I see a glint in his eye. A heated flicker of something deeper than the stone-cold teacher I’ve known him to be for the last several months. I haven’t so much as earned a second glance from him since he took over for Dr. Cobbs.

But I blink and it’s gone, and all of a sudden, I’m so damn tired of the one-sided attraction. He has his head full of dark hair down again, this time glancing over my printed work.

I turn to go, but I’m drawn to a stop before I can step toward the door.

“Tell me something, Ms. Johnson. You changed your major from history to psychology, which is no light choice, and yet you have missed more classes than you’ve attended in the last several weeks. Why?”

That’s a loaded question. Does he want to know as Professor Blackthorne or as Blackthorne, the owner of this university and ultimately the head of the committee responsible for UB scholarships? I could only miss so many days before they revoked my funding. It might not be much, but I still can’t afford to lose it.

I should tread carefully, but the next words out of my mouth border on pissed off. Being overwhelmed and exhausted will do that to a girl.

“Honestly, I’ve been working so many odd jobs because this town has nothing to offer outside these walls above minimum wage, and it takes about three of those to pay for the tuition here. It’s not easy putting myself through college on the shitty partial scholarship and now that my parents are ailing and unable to help anymore, it’s all I can do to keep myself fed and pay for school at the same time.” I slam to a halt right before spilling that I’m contemplating giving escort service or pole dancing a try just so I can see my degree through to the end, but just barely.

What the hell, Rosa?

I guess once the words started flowing it was hard to pull that back, and they felt good getting out into the open. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all that on you. That wasn’t fair nor is it your problem. I’m trying my best, Professor. Sometimes making a class isn’t possible.”

Without so much as an eyebrow raise or nod signaling he heard my words, he asks another question. “And your brothers? Where are they in all this?”

“Deployed for another six months.”

I tighten my grip around the strap of my bag as he takes his sweet time considering whatever it is going on behind those dark eyes. This time an odd rush of irritation ruffles me.

His voice drops with a roughened edge to it that makes me wonder what he’s really thinking, because I know it’s not what he’s telling me. “You have a brilliant mind, Ms. Johnson. Your work speaks volumes. It would be a shame to see you not reach your full potential. If I were you, I’d go home and get some sleep. You look tired and need to take care of that beautiful brain so you don’t miss tomorrow’s exam. You’ll need the grade from that to earn your credit toward passing this class.”

I think I just heard a compliment, and I don’t know if I should feel elated or pissed off. Frankly, my brain goes blank. What? Like sleeping will solve my problems.

I frown. “I wish it were that simple. I do. But not in the world I live in, Professor.” I growl an honest-to-God deep chest eruption of frustration. “I have to go. Again, I’m sorry…gah…for everything really.”

I glance at the clock behind him and catch him peering at the newspaper with the fat red circle around yet another job I know won’t go anywhere fast.

My phone shrills before I can turn to leave, and I pull it out of my bag, dropping the black card Amber gave me.

Shit.

I grab for the card, but too late. No chance he doesn’t see the very large name on the front since he’s staring right at it, brows drawn together. I shove that thought aside as I hit the green button on my phone.

“Mom, is everything okay?”

Phone calls in the middle of the day are unusual, but two calls in one day are unheard of so I’m on high alert.

Professor Blackthorne bends down and palms the card, handing it to me. His eyes lock on mine, and he holds my gaze the entire time he’s handing me the card.

His eyes grow heated, and I’m having a hard time swallowing. I’m not imagining the heat coming off his massive body. It’s very real, and I feel it envelop me, head to toe.

He slips the condemning piece of cardboard into my outstretched hand and the tips of his fingers brush over my palm. Warmth blooms out from the point of contact and fills my chest. Before I’ve had a chance to absorb what just happened, I realize there’s another problem. My professor now thinks I’m looking for a job at a sex club.

“Everything is fine, sweetie.”

My mom’s voice in my ear pulls me back on topic.

“Are you sure? Is Dad all right? Did the nurse come by today with the new medications like scheduled?”

Blackthorne hasn’t stepped back. In fact, he’s closer, and I raise my eyes to his.

“Everything okay,” he mouths, angling his big body until he’s like a wall of support beside me.

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