Tainted Love (Sweetest Taboo #2) (12 page)

He took my hand and pulled me closer to him, smiling slightly. “Oh I think we’ll have more to talk about the next time we meet. And please, remember to call me Marcus. As much as I like hearing you call me ‘Professor,’ that won’t do if we’re going to be spending much time together. As of this meeting on forward, let’s consider our relationship less formal than in the classroom, okay?”

Before I could think of a response to his statement, he was gone, leaving me alone in the warm September night.

***

When I got home, I found Susie waiting for me. “Well?” she demanded impatiently. “Did your professor give you a spanking for missing out on that internship?”

“No,” I said slowly. “In fact, he never mentioned it. We went over my thesis, and I presented some ideas to him. He approved them, and that was that.”

“That was all?” she asked, aghast. “After you put so much time and energy into your outfit?”

I frowned. “Well he said a lot of strange things, but I’m not even sure what he meant. He’s so dreamy, and he looked so gorgeous…well, maybe I wasn’t paying much attention to what he was saying. He might not have said what I thought he said.”

“What did you think he said?” Susie asked, frowning at my description.

“I thought he said that I was more sophisticated than most other people my age, and that I looked nice, and that we’d be seeing more of each other. He kissed me on both cheeks. He held my hand. And he told me to call him Marcus,” I finished, giggling slightly. I was blushing at the thought of his shoulder touching mine, and being invited to call him by his first name was… well, it was reminiscent of Tom, but I put that thought out of my mind immediately. He had nothing to do with this.

Professor Wellings was just serving as my academic advisor. I needed him to get my thesis done. There was nothing wrong with that. However, I would not deny that I had a crush on this magnificent man and that I would be thrilled to live out the fantasies I’d had about the two of us.

Susie lifted one eyebrow skeptically. “He asked you to call him by his first name?”

“Well, yeah,” I answered defensively. “After all, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next two years, and –”

“Izzy, are you sure he’s the right professor to serve as your academic advisor?” Susie asked suddenly. “I mean yeah, he’s hot and all that, and a good scholar or whatever, but don’t you think this crush is going to…get in the way?”

I straightened my shoulders. Who was she to be judging me like that? “No, Susie, I don’t,” I answered abruptly. “It’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with a little crush. It’s not like it’s going to go anywhere. It’s all innocent.”

Susie’s frown deepened again, and she got that look, like she was about to say something. Her mouth became a straight line – a sure sign that she was holding onto information she didn’t like – and she looked down. Then she shook her head and shrugged.

“Just be careful, okay?” she said quietly. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, and there’s something about that guy that makes me think he might do just that.”

I drew back a little at this statement, but nodded and promised her that I’d be careful, whatever that meant. We agreed that tonight wasn’t the night for a dinner party, and I went off to my armchair to catch up on some reading assignments while Susie took care of texting and calling our friends telling them the dinner party was off, for now.

Chapter Nine - I’ve Had Enough

I
t didn’t take me long to crawl into bed, but it took me hours to fall asleep. Being back at school, facing another school year, reminded me of the year before. I had just arrived, and had met Susie almost immediately. She was my roommate in the dorm, and I was excited to find that I liked her just as much as she liked me. We’d started doing everything together, and had become good friends from the get go. She was the only friend I made for some time, though. Being away from home had been harder than I thought, and I was still hurt at the way Tom had acted when I ended things with him. I hadn’t been able to get Tom out of my mind, and I certainly hadn’t been able to get him out of my heart. I was heartbroken and spent most of my time moping around. I lost a bit of weight, which couldn’t be good for someone as thin as me, and refused to become very social. It had been a nightmare for Susie, who wanted to meet everyone she could and date half the guys in her classes, but she’d put up with it, going with me to movies and art openings, and spending time in the dorm with me when I didn’t want to go out.

These days, at least I could admit that I’d been pining for Tom. Back then I’d been in denial, attributing it to being homesick, or being nervous about being in college. But I’d cried every night and refused to talk to anyone about what I was feeling, and that was a lot more than missing home. That was missing Tom, and trying to get used to life without him.

Looking back, I guess it wasn’t a big surprise that I’d started noticing Professor Wellings. It had been several months since I’d broken up with Tom by that time, and I was looking for someone to take my mind off him. It was natural that I’d turn to someone older than me. After all, I’d always preferred older, more mature men. And it was natural that I’d turn to someone who was an academic. I needed someone who could discuss things with me in depth, and think about more than where the next frat party would be, or whether they preferred beer from a keg or a bottle.

Of course that was where the similarities ended. Where Tom was fair, and even graying, Professor Wellings was dark and roguish, with the devilish good looks that were so often featured on the cover of romance novels. He’d looked like a movie star to me, right from the start. Tom had always been the boy next-door, ruffled hair, casually dressed, with Birkenstocks on his feet. Professor Wellings had been more worldly – he’d been to Europe, and even studied there for several years. And he was a philosophy professor – something that brought with it hours of almost undecipherable lectures. In my head, he was darkly romantic, and incredibly erotic.

No, they were nothing alike, though they both gave me that same breathless feeling. Tom could still give me those butterflies – I knew that from firsthand experience, over the last weeks. My last thought before I fell asleep, though, was whether I would feel the same flurry of emotions when Professor Wellings touched me.

***

I listened anxiously to the phone ringing, and prayed for Izzy to pick up. I’d timed the call carefully, so that I’d be getting through to her at eleven – late enough for her to have had dinner and settled back into her apartment, but early enough that she should still be awake. As the rings continued, though, I wondered whether I was wrong. Perhaps she’d fallen asleep early, and I would be waking her.

Perhaps she was out with friends, celebrating the fact that she was free again (free of parental oversight, that is). Perhaps she was even out with another man.

That last thought made my stomach sink, and I almost hung up the phone. I listened stubbornly, though, hoping she’d get to the phone before it went to voicemail. Besides, how would it look if I was on her list of missed calls, and hadn’t left a message?

When the voicemail came on, I groaned aloud. Probably just asleep, I told myself, exhausted from her day of travel. The beep sounded, and I cleared my throat.

“Izzy, it’s me,” I said softly, as though I was afraid of waking her. “Not sure if you’re sleeping – probably – or out with friends, but I wanted to call and make sure you got back safely. I never heard from you, and to be honest, it hurt me somewhat, especially since you told me you would call, but I looked online and saw that your plane landed on time, so at least I know you’re there. Can you call me tomorrow? I miss you, and I want to hear your voice.” I felt like I was groveling, and hated to feel that way, but what can I do, I love Isabel and missed her terribly.

I hit the end button sharply, hating the way I already felt about this situation. This was the first night she was gone, and I was already calling her, worrying about where she was and what she was doing. If I couldn’t get myself under control, it was going to be a very long month.

It had been two days since Isabel left to go back to school, and two days since I’d last heard from her. It was clear that she was screening her calls, after all, I’d left several messages since she touched down in D.C. There was something going on, something Isabel didn’t want to share with me, that was evident. But, what was it and why did things change so fast? One day she’s here with me, not wanting to leave my side, and the next minute she’s back in D.C. and refusing to return my phone calls. Isabel had done this to me before, back when she was in high school. She wouldn’t take my calls before she moved to Chile and she never gave me the chance to say goodbye before her move. I had felt utterly rejected, and incredibly hurt. But I chalked hat up to her young age and her inexperience with communicating in relationships. But Isabel was a young woman now and that behavior would no longer fly with me. I had had enough of her fickle nature and her inability to respect my need  – and desire – to be in communication with her.

I decided to call Isabel at odd times, times I normally wouldn’t call her like early in the morning before her classes, in order to catch her off guard hoping she would answer her phone. Something in the back of my mind told me she was up to something, just what I wasn’t sure of. I still had trust issues with Isabel, given that she had kept things from me in the past and had been with other guys behind my back. My gut was telling me all sorts of things I didn’t want to hear, but I had to find out. I couldn’t let Isabel play me a fool yet again.

Although I didn’t want to stoop to a new low in my attempts to reach Isabel, I decided that the best thing to do was to go out and buy a new pre-paid cell phone, one that was not associated with me, to use when trying to reach Isabel. If she wasn’t expecting my call and she didn’t recognize the number showing up on her phone, she would surely answer the call, wouldn’t she?

***

The next night, I found myself eating dinner at Professor Wellings’ elegant brownstone in one of the more elegant and classy neighborhoods of the District. It hadn’t been set up as a date – not really – but it was certainly starting to feel that way. And things were starting to move, but it wasn’t clear to me in which direction and whether or not I was ready for any move at all. I looked around the rich, decadent dining room, trying to get a handle on what exactly had happened.

I’d woken up that morning ready to start my second year in college fresh and reinvigorated, and had gone for a run with Susie. We had an agreement that we were going to stay healthy this year – healthier than last year! – and that included jogging together at least three days a week. Of course once we were out on the road, we’d spent more time walking and talking than anything else, and by the time I got home I was up to date on every guy Susie had dated over the summer, who she intended to date in the coming year, and what she thought of my weeks at home with Tom. She’d had all night to think about it, she said, and had decided that I should at least give him a chance. After all, he’d left his wife for me, and had dropped everything in his life to spend two full weeks with me once I had come back to him.

“Those aren’t the actions of someone who doesn’t take you seriously, Iz,” she said wisely, nodding in agreement with herself. “Even if you couldn’t trust him before, things might have changed, and you’ll never know if you don’t give it a shot.”

I’d nodded and agreed with her, just to keep from talking about it any more. I knew she was right – Tom had given up so much, in regard to his wife and daughters. He was free now, and that was what I’d always thought I wanted. Tom all to myself. But now, I was the one who was tethered down by other things at the moment; but was it fair of me to drop him because of that? I’d spent four years being in love with him and wishing he were mine. And now he could be.

So why didn’t I feel happier about it?

I knew why, and he was in the kitchen right now, pouring us some wine to ‘help with the brainstorming’ (his words, not mine). I’d come home from that run to finally check my phone, and found a message from Tom. As I was about to call him back, another call had come in from a local number I recognized. It had been Professor Wellings, and he’d been asking to schedule another meeting about the thesis.

“I’ve had some further thoughts,” he said. “I’d like to go over them with you. Dinner tonight, at my place. I’ll text you the address.”

He hadn’t given me a chance to respond. By the time I found my voice, there was nothing but a dial tone on the other end of the line. I’d glanced down at the phone, confused by this sudden departure, and wondered what exactly he thought of me. This was the second time in two days that he’d left me without the ability to respond, without even waiting to hear what I thought about his proposals. Today, he’d just made the plans for me and assumed that I’d make it work. Almost as if it didn’t matter to him what else I had going on today.

That thought caused a sudden spasm in my heart. Tom had always been very thoughtful and asked before proceeding, and he always went out of his way to make me comfortable and happy. He would never have assumed that I’d be available for dinner.

I put that thought away, though. I wasn’t going to let thoughts about Tom overshadow my first dinner with Professor Wellings, especially if he wanted to talk about my thesis. After all, I justified to myself, Professor Wellings was much busier than Tom. He had a lot to do, and even more to think about.

“You look more sun-kissed than when you left,” Professor Wellings mused, walking back into the room with two glasses of wine. He smiled as he leaned toward me to set a glass down in front of me. I could just make out a gentle scent of masculine cologne that was not overpowering, like the younger guys in my classes tended to use, but sophisticated and equally intoxicating.

I looked down at my bare legs showing under my flowing, knee-length skirt. If that was the only change that he noticed since the last time he’d seen me, I should count myself lucky. “Well I was in California, after all,” I teased. “Better sun out there, you know.”