Page 29 of Masters of Play

Sinead chuckled beside me. "She's going to be a brilliant therapist. You should read her study. As for the slut bit, I haven't had a chance to experience that myself. So if you'll excuse us."

Sinead gave my hand a tug. I didn't need much of a pull to follow him. We made our way out of the classroom and into the throng of people. Looking down at the floor, I noticed a feather lying in the spot where Dr. Wroth had once been standing.

Chapter Eighteen

"They can't do this to you," I said as I paced the length of my apartment. "I mean, there has to be something we can do. Some higher authority we can appeal to."

"Maple syrup?" asked Owen.

"Yes, thank you," said Sinead.

Sinead offered up his plate of pancakes. There were four, maybe six, of them stacked high. Owen held the comely figure of Mrs. Butterworth syrup and poured a generous amount of the golden brown liquid over Sinead's stack.

"We're not going to take this lying down," I said, coming to stand beside Sinead. "We're going to fight."

"These are seriously fluffy," said Sinead around a mouthful.

"Thanks," said Owen. "It's the buttermilk."

"Really, really good."

"Guys!"

The two men turned to look at me. Owen was dressed in a cooking smock that said Kiss the Cook. His chest was bare beneath. His bare feet padded against the linoleum as he turned back to the stovetop to flip another batch of flapjacks.

Sinead was setting on one of my bar stools. He had his shirt on, the cuffs still unbuttoned and rolled up to expose his glorious forearms. His feet were also bare.

It was that sight more than anything that threatened to make me blush: the sight of my former teacher's soon to be lover's bare toes on my kitchen floor. Also, he was giving Owen all the compliments. Here I was trying to solve the mystery of who set him up, and I hadn't gotten a single word of praise yet.

"Focus," I said. "You need to tell me who the anonymous source is."

Sinead shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does. It's your reputation. Someone is misrepresenting you because of me. I can't let that slide."

"What they said was true." Sinead sliced and dragged a perfect triangle of pancakes through syrup. "I was with a student at a sex club. Technically, two students and…"

"Two students and what?" I asked.

"It doesn't matter. I don't care to go back." To put a period at the end of that statement, he stuffed his mouth full of a ragged cut of pancakes.

"You love your job. You're exceptional at it. I'm not going to let them take that from you."

Sinead set down his silverware. He opened his arms and beckoned me into them. I came willingly. There was a part of me that wanted to drop the argument and get to the fucking, but I couldn't let this go. Not yet.

"I felt restrained in that job," Sinead said once I was in his arms. "For two years, I had to have someone in the classroom or in my office with me at all times to make sure I could never be accused of anything inappropriate. I had to deal with parents of grown adults who wanted to know why their grade was low. I had to deal with idiots who should not have any letters after their names. Not to mention the jealousy and backstabbing of my colleagues."

"If you hated it so much, then why did you stay?"

He looked up at me, his gaze lingering as he sucked at the corner of his thumb where a dollop of syrup stuck to his flesh. Watching his tongue flick over that spot, I became overheated. But not as overheated as I got when I saw the flare of desire in his eyes.

"Me?" I asked. "You stayed because of me."

"And the pay was good." He grinned as he said the words. Chase Sinead grinning was devastating to behold. "The day after your defense, I realized that if you were gone, I really had no reason to stay."

I put my hand on his heart. "I think I fuck you."

"No," Sinead chuckled. "We haven't done that yet."

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