Page 14 of Private Tutoring
She sucked air through her teeth with the force of someone who’d been sucker punched. “I work hard, and I try my best. If that’s not enough, I’m not sure what else I can give.”
That was the passion I’d gotten used to her showing on stage. If I could bottle that kind of exuberance, I’d never have to worry about poor acting or singing again.
There was only one Harmony, and I’d be damned if I let something like poor grades keep her from the career she’d been destined to pursue.
“Your best is more than enough, Harmony. Don’t ever let anyone convince you otherwise.” I’d like to convince her of a few more things. Explicit, inappropriate things.
What the hell was wrong with me? In all the years I’d worked this job, no one had ever tempted me to break the rules.
Until Harmony. One word from her, and I’d be tempted, so very, very tempted, to throw caution to the wind and indulge in every wicked thought that crossed my mind.
She took her time walking out of the room, even pausing at the door with a look that I couldn’t interpret. “See you tomorrow, Professor.”
Professor. Yes. I needed to remember that title and the weight it strapped around my neck. Desire for her body and a genuine affection for her intellect didn’t give me the right to put either of us at risk.
My feelings were not professional. I needed to figure out how to get rid of them or ignore them until they fizzled out.
7
STEPHEN
Ihad that deep, gutted feeling that I was going to regret this. I rarely gave in to any kind of pressure, so why had I agreed to tutor Harmony based on Matthew’s asinine request?
Because I couldn’t help myself. At least, that’s what I repeated in my head when she walked into my classroom on Friday afternoon and settled at the center desk in the front row.
She’d done as I asked after our last conversation and had begun sitting in the front row for every class. I hadn’t anticipated how much she’d distract me. Her quiet attention and the way she riveted her gaze on her computer and papers were nothing extraordinary.
Why? Why did my stomach churn and my blood rise every damn time I saw her lean over her desk to write in her notebook?
A prickling sensation swept up the back of my neck and down my chest. My skin felt too tight, my body too contained for the riot of devastation brought on by her mere presence.
Fuck it all, I was starting to think like Matthew. His inclination toward flowery phrases and poetry was rubbing off on my analytical brain.
“Where are we starting?” She pulled a notebook from her ever-present messenger bag and set it on the desk, flipping to a blank page.
I eased onto the edge of my desk and crossed my ankles, forcing my body to relax and my mind to concentrate on why I was here in the first place. “Where are you struggling?” I didn’t mean for the question to come out terse and unsupporting, but it did, and I winced.
Harmony’s lips puckered and pulled to the side in a mockery of a smile. “Everywhere. The last thing you taught that made any sense was when you made a joke about balancing our checkbooks.”
I snort-laughed and relaxed. “I don’t usually make jokes.”
“I know, that’s why I remembered it. You looked…happy.” She shrugged and turned her head away, offering me a glimpse of her profile. “Sorry. None of my business. I just…” She heaved a massive sigh too large for her willowy frame. “I suck at math. Always have. Numbers and letters together make no sense to me. Start throwing in angles and formulas and exponents and I’m absolutely going to flunk.”
“Hmm.” I cocked my head to the side. “Especially with an attitude like that.”
She scowled at me. “Thanks for the psych eval.” All color fled her face as soon as she said it. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying.” Covering her face with both hands, she groaned and leaned her head on the desk. “God, I’m an idiot.”
“No.” I almost pushed to my feet but planted them firmly on the floor and pressed my ass onto the desk until tingles swept down the backs of my legs. “It’s nice to hear you saying what you think. I can work with honesty. What I can’t work with is a lack of trying.”
She looked up, peering at me through her fingers. When I chuckled, she dropped her hands to the desk and picked upher pencil. “Right. I’m so far behind in understanding it’s like swimming through jelly. But I’m not afraid to work for my grade.”
Without warning, she’d gone from quiet, shy student to intense and focused. I liked this version. Too much. Quiet and shy were fine. I didn’t mind that, but when she raised her chin and took on a challenge, I found it riveting.
Turning my back to her, I scribbled an equation on the board. “Let’s start here.” It was a basic, two-step equation I’d gone over the first week of classes.
Harmony wrote the equation in her notebook.
“What’s the first step?”
