Page 2 of Irresistible Professor

Stuart wiped the back of his hand over the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“Is this about my term paper?” he asked Ford. “I tried my best…Honest.”

The professor nodded sternly before surprisingly breaking into a wide smile. “It’s one of the best explanations of electromagnetic theory I’ve ever read, and I don’t say that lightly, Mr. Doyle. I know you’re currently majoring in English, but you also show significant talent in the sciences. If there is anything I can do to encourage you to consider the possibility of a double major, please let me know. I’d be happy to be your mentoring advisor.”

“Really?” Stuart’s mouth gaped open, and I felt certain the astonished look on his face was mirrored on my own. I’d been bracing myself for some sort of admonishment, lecture, or other cringeworthy criticism, but Ford’s high praise of his student’s work went against all my preconceived ideas. From the looks of it, Stuart was equally shocked.

“Wow,” he breathed, raking his fingers through his hair. “To be honest, I’ve always loved physics. But my parents want me to become a lawyer.”

“Hm,” said Ford, scratching his chin. “Would it help if you and I sat down with them together? Perhaps I can assure them of your promise in this field, as well as the range of career options for a person gifted in math and science.”

“That would be amazing,” Stuart replied, blinking. “Gosh, thank you Dr. Kingston! You just made my day.”

Ford chuckled. “I’m glad. But let’s keep it our little secret. I have a reputation to uphold you know.”

Stuart laughed and gave me a small wave as he exited the office. I could almost see the clouds under his feet.

“Now, Bonnie,” said Ford, once we were alone, “Did you have any questions about the assignment I gave you yesterday? I know it’s complicated, and my handwriting is surely partly to blame. I realize we’re in the digital age and I can check my online bank account for their record of transactions. However, to be frank, we educators don’t make all that much, and I can’t afford to lose a dime due to some technical glitch.”

"I completely understand,” I replied, rummaging in my purse. “Actually, I balanced the numbers last night. You were only off by a few dollars, and I found the line item that caused the problem as well. A ‘7’ looked like a ‘1.’ Here is the record.” Drawing out the checkbook, I handed it to him, maintaining a composed facade despite the fluttering in my stomach.

Ford’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and he stared at me for a long moment without speaking. My cheeks warmed under his scrutiny.

Finally, he blinked, tucking the checkbook into the pocket of his jacket and straightening his sleeves.

“Well now! That solves that conundrum,” he said.

As he turned away, I couldn't help but observe the subtle shift in his posture, a slight relaxing of the shoulders, perhaps an unconscious response to the tension dissipating between us. Or maybe I was the problem, since I wasn’t accustomed to the formalities of academia and my feeling intimidated must be obvious.

Ford strode to a tall bookshelf on which had been piled everything from books to loose papers to a stuffed green alien wearing spectacles and a tie. I wondered that the sagging piece of furniture hadn’t yet toppled over completely and made a mental note to add organizing it to my list of to-do’s.

“Let's start by reviewing the upcoming conference schedule,” he said, flinging books from one of the shelves as though they were candy. “I know I put it here somewhere. I'll need everything organized and ready for my review by the end of the day," he instructed, his brows furrowing.

Reaching past him, I plucked a crisp manila folder from the edge of a shelf.

“Ah yes, that’s it,” said Ford with an appreciative smile. “Now you can get started on that while I get back to figuring out the correct diameter of Alpha Boötis in the Boötes constellation.”

“Sounds like alphabet soup to me,” I laughed.

He frowned.

I coughed and nodded, his intimidation returning full force. Taking the folder to my desk, I flipped open the lid of my laptop as my mind raced. This was going to be more challenging than I had anticipated—not just the job but keeping my composure around Dr. Ford Kingston.

***

I shuffled papers into neat stacks, my fingers flying as I organized the bookshelf with a practiced hand. The quiet hum of the computer filled the space between us, punctuated by the occasional scratch of Ford's pen against paper. My gaze drifted to the clock; it had only been a few hours since I'd started, but I felt like I'd been part of this office for much longer.

"Bonnie," Ford's voice cut through the silence, "did you remember to include the revisions for next week's lecture in the conference lineup?"

"They're highlighted in yellow," I answered without missing a beat, pointing toward the calendar where neatly penned notes awaited his review.

"Efficient," he muttered, almost to himself, and I caught a glimmer of approval in his piercing blue eyes before he buried himself in his work again.

As the week wore on, my initial nervousness around the professor began to wane, replaced by something akin to...admiration? No…Fascination was the word.

I watched him from across the room as he leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, hands threading through his prematurely silver hair. He seemed to be pondering the cosmos itself, lost in thought.

"Ford?" I ventured tentatively, curious about the man behind the intensity.

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