Ivory Tower (2 page)

He was wonderfully assertive, in complete control .  And I didn’t  mind.  I should have been taken aback, or at least played hard to get.  What was it about me and men?  At work, at home – I let them take what they wanted without a fight.  But this time I  actually  enjoyed it.  With Pete, I had a feeling I was going to get something out of it.  So I let him take the lead with his strong confident hands that  traced the line of my jaw and  made my toes curl in the process. 

“Do you usually use faculty bios for foreplay?” I asked, my voice more breathy than I would have liked as he cupped a breast in one hand while steadying himself against the arm of the sofa with the other.

“Whatever works,” he grinned as he feathered his lips over mine.

  ****

I woke to the dull rays of the morning sun playing across my skin.  Blinking against the light, I groaned.  I was unusually warm despite the fact I hadn’t turned up the heater.  With a jolt, I realized the warmth was coming from the lightly snoring figure beside me.  His face looked younger in sleep;hair flopped untidily over his forehead.  He smelled faintly of the woodsy cologne I remembered from our date, mingled with sweat and sleep.  I leaned over for a closer look.  His hair was thick and coarse and I had vague memories of running my fingers through it.  I reached out to touch it again, unable to resist this beautiful man. 

He snorted, angling his head toward me, and that’s when I noticed something peculiar – a dark line down the part of his hair, almost as if someone had taken to it with a black marker.  It was about an inch across and perfectly solid while the rest of his hair was speckled with gray—almost as if he had dark roots and dyed his hair to look older.  Why would anyone do that?  Before I could muse on it further, he stirred.

“Hello beautiful.” 

Oh God
, he had the
best
throaty morning voice. 

  Running his fingers through his hair, he eradicated the dark line, immediately creating a boyish ruffled look. 

“What time is it?”  He narrowed his eyes against the sun. 

  “ Eight-thirty.”

  “How  do you  feel?”  His eyes reminded me of soft, sweet caramel as he peered at me through long dark lashes.

  “Good.”  I knew I was grinning like an idiot, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Only good?” he asked, trailing his fingertips up my arm to rest them on my shoulder.  “Come here.”  He rose above me and lowered gently down over me until we were nose to nose.  He had pulled on his boxers during the night and I appeared to be wearing his shirt although I didn’t remember putting it on.  His excitement was obvious as he dipped to brush his lips against mine.  Pressing one arm between us, he began to unfasten the buttons on the shirt so he could slip the fingers of his other hand inside the collar, sliding them down to tease the sensitive skin between my breasts.  I raised my head to return his kiss with a little more pressure. 

  “Rats,” he murmured.

  “What?”  I was trying to maintain contact with his lips, but he pulled away, nuzzling the crook of my neck in the process, his hand still playing along my chest.  “I gotta go.”

  A little stung, I pushed him away.  He rolled to his side, propping his chin on his elbow.  “I’m sorry.  I have a class.  I need to go home and change.”   He cupped my chin and grinned.  “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

  Putting on my best hostess face, I smiled sweetly.  “Okay, but I think I owe you a coffee.  We never got around to it last night.”

  “No, we didn’t.”  His grin turned wicked. “But I didn’t hear anyone  complain.”

  After a hasty attempt at a shower, I slipped into my cotton bathrobe and tackled the coffee, also shoving a handful of frozen waffles into the toaster oven.  I was fishing for butter and jelly in the fridge when I heard rustling behind me.  Pete had appeared, showered and dressed in last night’s clothes.  I hadn’t heard him come in from the bedroom.  He  moved like a cat—   an exceptionally big beautiful cat.  The rustling sound was his attempt to re-arrange the dean search papers we  managed to scatter all over the living room floor before we made it to the bedroom.

  “Don’t bother.” I waved a dismissive hand.  “I’ll fix it later.”

  “It’ll only take a minute.”  He continued piling papers while I set up breakfast on the counter.  We seemed to have finally hit that awkward part of the morning when neither of us knew quite what to say. 

I watched him stack papers for a while before asking, “Say, are there any women in there?”  I didn’t remember discussing any at the meeting, but there may have been one or two hidden in there.  After all, we’d have needed at least one for EEOC purposes.  And if there weren’t any I needed to be aware of it if I was going to play the role of “token woman playing the gender card” on the committee.

  “Not sure.”  He started flicking again.  “Yes, here.  Do you want to see?”  Scooping up the papers Pete crossed to the counter and plunked down on one of my rickety bar stools.  He placed the relevant documents in front of me.  I examined the thumbnail image of a Professor Waters.  She seemed to be about my age, dressed in a smart blazer with sensible hair.  I skimmed over her qualifications—a Harvard grad with solid publications and tons of experience, specializing in organizational behavior, currently interim dean at a relatively good school. 

“Shame we don’t hire women,” I said, passing Pete a mug of coffee, “She looks good.”

“Seriously?”

“Never had a woman dean in the history of the school— actually, the whole university I think.”

“But you’re a department head.”

“
Acting
department head.” It still stung every time I said it.

“Hmmm.”  Pete reached for a waffle and slathered it with butter and jelly while I secured Professor Waters’ bio in my satchel. 

“What’s this?”  Pete’s attention was focused on another of my papers.

“Candidate summary sheet.”

“Why’s this name crossed out?” 

  “Oh, that guy.  He’s dead.  Hey, maybe if I killed off all the guys, we’d finally hire a woman.”

  Pete turned to me, barely concealing a grin.  “Wow.  If this dean search gets any more deadly, we might have to get you some protection.”  He reached into his pocket and slipped out a condom.  “What do you say we try it out and see how
safe
you feel?”  He tucked the foil packet between his teeth, freeing his hands to loosen my robe.

“I thought you had to prep for class.”

He arranged his features into an exaggerated pout and made a show of tightening the robe back around me.  When he was done, he rested both his palms against my neck.  The contact made me momentarily light-headed and I realized he was pressing against my windpipe.  Was he into those kinky sex games?  And more importantly, how would that make me feel?

Maybe it was the lack of oxygen or simply the thrill of this man in my life all of a sudden, but I was fast losing control.  There was something about him—beautiful, sexy, dangerous … and overwhelmingly tempting.  My body protested from the inside out when he withdrew his hands, and I grabbed them back before I was even aware of what I was doing.

He growled hungrily as he banded his arms around me and I returned the gesture, pulling him hard against me.  Lifting me in his arms, he drew me into the bedroom, grumbling not very convincingly, “You’re going to make me late for class.”

“Borrow someone else’s notes.”  I pulled his face down to mine to take what I wanted— for once.  It felt incredible.

****

  My hand went for the phone for the twentieth time that afternoon.  I had memorized the search consultant’s phone number, but I still wasn’t sure what tack I was going to take when he answered.  Would I plant seeds of doubt about the current  short list ,  push my own virtues, or both?  It was going behind the Provost’s back to make direct contact with the search firm, but I had no choice.  Things weren’t exactly going great for my cause so far.

  Before I could dial the number—or chicken out for the twentieth time—I was interrupted by Professor Maxwell’s voice booming down the hallway. 

  “How’s Professor Gray today?”

 
Damn
.  If he’d reached Professor Gray’s office, he was too close for comfort.  I still couldn’t believe we had whittled down the candidate list so quickly to the final five, and judging by Professor Maxwell’s exuberance, there was a good chance he already knew he was one of the chosen ones— probably
the
chosen one at the end of the day.  Pulling my door shut, I heaved my arms into my jacket, tactically covering my face with the hood as I passed Professor Gray’s door.   When I reached Melissa’s office, I barged in, closing her door firmly behind me.

  “Avoiding the candidate again?” Melissa smirked from across her desk.  As usual, her hair was perfect and she was dressed like a model in a smart burgundy pantsuit.    “Fear not, my sweet,” she continued, “that particular train has already departed this station.”

  I sighed, leaning against her desk.  “So what was on today’s platform?”

  “Oh, you know, the usual.”  Melissa began to gather her things, scooping her spiffy new tablet PC into her designer briefcase.  “Peace on earth, goodwill to all men…”

  “And women?”

  “Probably saving that for the next campaign.”

As Melissa brushed past me to open the door, I grabbed her elbow to hold her back.  “You are going to be nice tonight?” It was going to be our first double date and I was a little nervous, despite being pretty sure of Pete.  Melissa would be the wild card.  She could be a little judgmental at times, despite her best intentions.

“Who,
moi
?” Melissa batted her lashes and brushed my hand aside.

“Oh, never mind.”   

  I had chosen the bowling alley for my best friend’s first close encounter with my new boyfriend, who was running late, as it happened.  While bowling attracted a heightened risk of being spotted by students, it was also pretty neutral turf.  The lights flashed and the music  blared as Melissa, her husband Rob, and I finished up a practice game.  Melissa tapped me on the shoulder with a raised eyebrow indicating a figure hurrying toward us.  My heart sped up when I spotted him.  He always had that effect on me, even after a solid month of dating.  Clad in his trademark jeans and sports jacket, he made his way toward us and scooped me up into a tight bear hug, followed by a long possessive kiss.  Melissa narrowed her eyes.  I knew she disliked  overly-public displays of affection—  at least when they weren’t directed at her. 

Before I could make the introductions, Rob strode forward, hand outstretched.  “You must be Pete.  I’m Rob, and this is my better half, Melissa.” 

Pete clasped Rob’s hand and turned to Melissa, smiling.  “Pleased to meet you both.  Evie has told me so much about you.”

  “All of it lies I’m sure.” There was a definite frisson in Melissa’s tone.  “So you’re in bio-chem?”

  Pete nodded and slipped an arm around my waist, pulling me subtly away from Melissa.

  I realized that this was going to turn into a pissing match between my man and my best friend.  It gave me a weird feeling, and not an entirely unpleasant one.  No one had fought over me in a long time— if ever.  And if I had to choose, well, that would be easy.  I knew who I wanted in my bed that night.  Clasping Pete’s hand, I pulled him closer.  When Melissa flashed a disapproving scowl, I nuzzled Pete’s neck and gave him a peck on his  lightly-stubbled jawline.

  Melissa opened her mouth to speak, but Rob cut her off.  “Good thing you showed up when you did.  We’ve been wiping the floor with your lady here.”  He took a pull on his beer, regarding us all thoughtfully before speaking again.  “So, whaddya say?  Play for real this time?  Losing team buys dinner?”

  Melissa leaned in closer to me, pulling on my elbow to release me from Pete’s grip.  “Why don’t we make it interesting?  Evie and me, against you boys.” 

  “You’re on.”  Rob slapped Pete on the back and dragged him to the rack to look for a ball. 

  When they were out of earshot, I hissed at Melissa, “What was that about?”

  “What?  I thought it would be fun, us versus them.”

  I wondered if this was how our years-long friendship would end—  over a guy?  She’d wanted me to be happy but when it came right down to it …

  It was just like my job.  Folks were happy enough as long as I  did exactly what they needed me to  do and not ruffling anyone’s feathers.  Not asking for anything for myself.  But Pete was different.  He gave me what I wanted.

   I was distracted by Pete’s lithe form gracefully moving toward us with his bowling ball, Rob’s hand resting on his shoulder.  They were chatting like old buddies.  When he noticed me watching him, he winked.  Heat flowed through my cheeks—and elsewhere—and I looked away,   in time to see a bunch of my students a couple of lanes down pointing at us and whispering.

  During our game, Melissa stuck close to me and Pete took her possessiveness as a personal challenge to find ways to sneak in surreptitious touches and glances.  His attempts to provoke her sharpened her game and we ended up beating the boys handily.  Rob tried to make a joke of it, claiming they had been impaired by Melissa plying them with beer, and insisted we go Dutch on dinner.  I could tell he was rattled by his wife’s behavior.  It was there in the cautious way he looked at her and the way he clasped her hand so tightly when he led her to the backroom grille.  She winced when he grasped her hand and I could see his knuckles whitening against her pale skin.  When we were seated with ice-waters laid out all around, Melissa turned a forced smile to me and raised a work-related subject thereby effectively cutting the men out of the conversation.  “So how was referee duty today?”

  “Not so good,” I answered. “ We’re not allowed to go off-list yet.”  Pete raised a questioning eyebrow so I clarified.  “Dean search stuff.  I had to do the referee checks on the final five candidates.”

“What’s ‘off-list’?” Pete asked.

“We’re only allowed to call names the candidates gave us.”

Pete stared at me, incredulous.  “What’s the point of that?  You won’t get anything useful from the referees the candidates give you.”

“Speaking from personal experience?”  Melissa snapped at Pete and then turned back to me.  “Well, if you can’t call off-list, there are other ways …”

“Do I want to hear this?” I interrupted.  I was mystified by her jab at Pete but decided it would be safer to let it lie and take it up with her later, in private.

“So who’s the candidate you’re most worried about, other than Maxwell of course?” Melissa asked. 

“Why other than Maxwell?”