Bad Professor (An Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

professional and personal
images had to be mature, settled, and appropriate. No more drinking at bars
until close to get local gossip, no more skipping haircuts or showers in order
to fact check, and no more flirting with attractive, insider women who might
want to share their insights with me.
    "Nice
to see you again, Professor Bauer. I hope you enjoyed the little party we threw
the other night," Dean Dunkirk slapped me on the shoulder. "I believe
you had my daughter in class today."
    The
dean's choice of words kicked my mind right into the gutter. I turned and felt
my insides churn with volcanic heat. Clarity stood next to her father. My eyes
dropped to her red high heels then climbed up the clinging black dress to the
bright scarf cinched around her tight waist before I got myself under control.
    "Thanks
so much for the hospitality, Dean Dunkirk. I love your Craftsman house. It must
be really nice to be that close to campus," I said, tearing my eyes off
his daughter.
    "We
like it, don't we, darling?" the dean asked Clarity. "Helps me keep
an eye on her."
    "What
about all that rhetoric about me breaking out and finding my passion? Now you
want to keep a close eye on me?" Clarity gave her father a challenging
glance.
    "Right,
you're right. I'll leave you to the close, watchful eyes of your
professors," Dean Dunkirk grinned at me.
    I
straightened my shoulders and kept my focus on him. Clarity's father seemed to
have missed my glances and he turned me towards his other companion. "Professor
Bauer, I'd like you to meet one of Landsman College's biggest supporters,
Michael Tailor."
    Michael
Tailor gave my hand a hard shake. "Dunkirk tells me you worked for Wired
Communications. Wesley Barton is an old friend of mine."
    The
name was a shot of poison and I was glad to tug my hand free of Michael
Tailor's handshake. The tall business man had the dark-blond hair and denim-blue
eyes of an All-American legacy. I knew just by looking at him that he had old
money—too much of it—and he wielded it over others like a whip. The fact that
he knew Barton was no surprise as they were cut from the same, ultra-rich
cloth.
    Wesley
Barton was the reason I was trapped like a lab rat in maze of academia. He'd
fired me personally, with a guarantee that I would never again work for a
credible news source again.
    "You
worked for Wired Communications?" Clarity asked.
    Michael
Tailor offered her an arm, pleased by the dark glance I gave him. "My
dear, if you're interested in pursuing journalism, you should let me introduce
you."
    She
glanced over the shoulder of his expensive suit and caught my stormy look. The
question was bright in her and she mouthed, "Talk later?"
    I
shook my head and gave my excuses to the dean. "I'm sorry, but I'm
supposed to be meeting a friend. Actually, a friend of a friend."
    Dean
Dunkirk laughed. "A blind date, you poor soul. And here I thought a
handsome man like yourself would be inundated with offers."
    "Never
from the right women," I confided in the older man and he chuckled.
    "Sorry
to interrupt," Clarity reappeared and I felt her presence like an
electrical storm. "Professor Bauer, there's a woman looking for you. She
said to mention that she's wearing a black flower pin?"
    "His
blind date," her father explained.
    "Oh,"
Clarity's eyes jolted to mine. "I thought maybe you were married or
something."
    "No,
I tend to tell people defining details like that right away. It saves a lot of
awkwardness," I said.    
    She
shrugged and shot me a provocative smile. "Some people can handle
awkwardness better than others. Good luck with your blind date."
    I
watched Clarity walk away with her father and felt my attraction to her like
burning magma in my bones. For twenty-two, Clarity was self-assured, sharply
intelligent, and far more mature than I wanted to give her credit for.
    Nine
years was an impossible stretch, even if Clarity acted much older than her age.
I reminded myself it was right to be meeting a woman only one year