A Younger Man. Linda Turner
decided as her gaze moved to the sensuous lines of his mouth. Boyish dimples flashed with every smile, but it was the self-deprecating twinkle in his eye that charmed her. What woman could resist a man who didn’t take himself seriously? How old was he? Frowning, she tried to do the math. If he graduated from college with his B.A. when he was nineteen, then spent the next four or five years finishing graduate school and his Ph.D., then he had to be at least…
“Twenty-eight,” he said with a quirk of a smile as he looked her right in the eye and read her mind. “I’ve been teaching for five years.”
From across the room, someone asked him when he’d gone on his first dig, but Natalie hardly heard his answer for the pounding of her heart. He gave the other students who asked questions the courtesy of his attention, but it seemed as if his gaze always returned to hers.
You’re imagining it, she told herself. He’s your professor, for heaven’s sake! And a biker who’s footloose and fancy-free. You’re a mother with twins and the only one your boys can depend on to be there for them. The last thing you want or need is a man.
She couldn’t argue with that. Her day started early and ended late, and, thanks to her deadbeat ex, she was not only the sole breadwinner, but also chief cook and bottlewasher, housekeeper, chauffeur, dragon slayer, crises solver, and entertainment director. She didn’t have trouble sleeping at the end of the day—she just collapsed from exhaustion. Even if Derek hadn’t totally put her off ever giving her heart to a man again, she didn’t know how she would have fit one into the crazy days that were her life. There just wasn’t time…especially now that she’d added college student to the many hats she wore.
She’d waited a long time for this day, she reminded herself grimly, as Maxwell Sullivan turned the conversation to the topics he would be covering over the course of the semester, the term paper that would count for twenty-five percent of their grade, and the dig they were all required to go on over the Thanksgiving holiday. The only reason she was here was to get an education.
Quickly grabbing a pen from her purse, she opened a spiral notebook and began taking notes. Diligently, she wrote down every word. She didn’t have to look around to know that she was eighteen years older than the majority of the students, and she readily admitted that she was more than a little intimidated. How was she going to keep up? Most of her classmates had just graduated from high school a few months ago, and their study habits were as fresh in their minds as the memories of their senior prom. She, on the other hand, didn’t even remember how to study. What, she wondered, trying not to panic, was she doing here?
Watching her from the corner of his eye as he discussed some of the well-known historical digs he’d been on, Max reminded himself that he wasn’t the kind of teacher who allowed himself to become interested in his female students. Not only did the administration frown on it, but he didn’t want or need the complication. So why the devil was Natalie Bailey so distracting? It wasn’t as if she was trying to attract his attention. Most of the time her head was bent over her notes. She hardly looked up at all, and when she did, it was obvious that she was totally focused on his lecture. He should have been thankful for that. Instead he found himself wishing she’d look up and smile at him. What was going on here?
Losing his place in his lecture—something that rarely happened—he frowned and quickly got himself back on track…but not for long. He turned to pull down a map of ancient Egypt, and there she was again, right in his line of vision. He hadn’t been lying earlier when he’d told her that her archeology professor was partial to redheads. He was—he readily admitted it. She’d twisted her dark-auburn curls up on her head, exposing the tempting lines of her throat, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She wasn’t the kind of woman he would have called beautiful—with her quick flash of dimples, pert nose, and petite five-foot-two figure, she looked more like the girl next door.
But there was more to her than that. There was that stubborn chin that would challenge a man at every turn and the wariness that peeked out of her midnight-blue eyes. An interesting combination, he thought, intrigued. He’d seen her quick smile, the humor that danced in her eyes…and how quickly she stepped back from that. He would bet there’d been a time in her life when she’d been a lot more spontaneous than she allowed herself to be now. What had happened to change that? When had life taught her to be a more cautious soul? What was her story?
Suddenly realizing where his thoughts had wandered, he swore silently and did some mental backpedaling himself. What the devil was he doing? If she was unusually distracting, it was only because she was so different from the female students he usually dealt with, he reasoned. They were too young and flighty, too eager to fall in love and live happily ever after. There was nothing flighty about the conscientious Ms. Bailey. She had a maturity about her that the rest of her eighteen-year-old classmates lacked, and she had no idea how refreshing that was. How old was she? Thirty? Older? Was she married? Divorced? What had she been doing since high school?
Whatever it was, he sincerely doubted that she’d spent any time in college—otherwise, she would have known it wasn’t necessary for her to write down every word he said. And that could present a problem for her, he realized, frowning. He was a tough teacher—he readily admitted it. His tests were fill-in-the-blank and essays and difficult for students fresh out of high school. Anyone who hadn’t been in school in years would, no doubt, have a difficult time passing his class. If Natalie didn’t want to find herself in trouble, she was really going to have to stay on top of things from day one.
Concerned—in spite of the fact that he demanded a lot of his students, he didn’t enjoy it when they failed—he finished his lecture with an assignment. “Read the first two chapters before Wednesday,” he said as the bell rang. “Oh, and Ms. Bailey, can you stay for a moment? I need to talk to you, if you have a minute.”
He wasn’t surprised when she hesitated. He’d flirted outrageously with her when he’d stopped to change her flat for her. He obviously had some fences to repair.
Silence fell like a stone when the last student filed out of the classroom, leaving the two of them alone. She still stood at her desk, facing him from halfway across the room. “I hope you realize I was only teasing earlier,” he said. “At first I didn’t realize you were one of my students. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry. That certainly wasn’t my intention.”
Heat climbed into her cheeks, but she met his gaze squarely. “You really should have told me who you were.”
He couldn’t argue with that. The second she’d told him she was late for his class, he should have identified himself. And he certainly shouldn’t have asked her out. That was a temporary loss of judgment. Aside from the fact that he didn’t date his students, just last week, he’d sworn he was through with women. Everyone he’d dated in the past six months was looking for a husband, and he wasn’t going there. Not after watching his father walk down the aisle, then into divorce court, more times than he could remember. From what he had seen, marriage only ruined the romance and made people who had once loved each other despise each other. He wanted no part of it.
So why was he so drawn to her? he wondered. He only had to remember the way she’d tried to give him the brush-off when he’d stopped to help her. He’d always liked smart, independent women who could take care of themselves. And even though he knew nothing about her except that she knew how to change a flat—once the lug nuts were out of the way—he didn’t doubt for a moment that Natalie Bailey didn’t need a man to lean on to get through life. That was the only reason he needed to avoid her like the plague.
“You were already upset about being late for class,” he told her, dragging his attention back to the conversation. “I didn’t want to upset you further by telling you who I was. I was afraid you’d be embarrassed.”
That sounded good, but Natalie was the mother of twin boys and she knew a line of bull when she heard one. Her lips threatened to curl into a smile. “That sounds like something my sons would say.”
So she had sons. He grinned. “You’re not buying it, huh?”
“What do you think?”
“Damn. And I