by Claire Adams
The second time we had made love was a slow exploration that had stripped me down to bare want. Clarity was everything that I had ever wanted and more. The taste of her skin intoxicated me, the catches of her breath were like music, and the connection of our bodies so deep that I didn't know where I ended and she began.
My lungs stopped, as if any slight move would shatter the thought. It circled around and around my brain, but I couldn't let it form. I shifted farther away from Clarity and felt the loss of her warmth like something was torn away.
I loved her. It rang inside my head, coursed through my already convinced body. All I wanted to do was gather her close to my body and stay in the peace of our shared bed.
What would she say? Did she feel anything near the same?
Clarity was young, she was on the cusp of big changes, and last night was probably nothing more than a celebration to her.
I shook my head. Clarity was different. She didn't do anything casually. My heart turned over. We couldn't have come together without a balance; that just didn't seem right. The blood pounded in my head as I hoped. Clarity had to feel the same otherwise she wouldn't have given herself so openly to me.
I couldn't breathe. I rolled over to the edge of the bed and sat up, but that was as far as I could make myself go. I sat and watched her from the corner of my eye.
It would be better if I disappeared before she woke up. How could Clarity end up with someone like me? All her optimism and enthusiasm was wasted on me. I was too old for her, too jaded by far, and, now, thanks to my latest attempt to regain what I'd lost, I was now jobless.
A heavy weight clutched at my chest and I forced myself to concentrate only on getting a deep breath. Why did it hurt so much to think about pushing her away?
Clarity deserved more. She deserved someone as young and buoyant as her. I would only weigh her down.
Unless she pulled me up.
The thought pushed its way into my head and then expanded. It took over the way sunlight could fill a room. Clarity had already given me a spark of inspiration and a chance to recapture some integrity. Then she had willingly given me the sweet, rapturous feel of her body.
I hung my head. This was bad. It was awful. I couldn't be in love with her because the best thing for her was for me to get out of the way.
I couldn't shield her from Michael Tailor. If the rich donor decided he wanted to turn the screws harder on Dean Dunkirk, then Clarity was certainly going to get hurt. After the internship was gone, Tailor would find another way.
The frustration pushed me to my feet. Knowing the way men like Tailor and Barton worked, I could guess that Clarity would have paperwork problems and any number of bureaucratic nightmares. Or they wouldn't be so subtle.
Why would Tailor be above physical intimidation?
I thought of Clarity joking about a road trip but the idea seized me with a wild thread of hope. She and I could take off over winter vacation and not return. Dean Dunkirk would be able to settle the truth with the college president thanks to our expose. There was no reason we needed to be around for the aftermath.
Clarity would complain about missing school, but there was a whole wide world we could go see. She would be safe and we would be together.
I shook my head. I wanted to steal her away from the life she knew and the gesture was not entirely unselfish. Some hero I would turn out to be.
I stomped into my small kitchen and fought the urge to punch a cabinet door. Why hadn't I thought things all the way through? We put everything into the expose and left ourselves no small, torrid detail as leverage. All our cards were on the table and I didn't even have an ace up my sleeve.
The kettle barely fit in my sink above the dirty dishes. We hadn't touched a single thing after dinner. In fact, I didn't even remember if we finished our food.
"Maybe she'll run away with me," I muttered.
I spooned out coffee grounds and hoped the caffeine would clear my head. The only problem was I knew before Clarity was even awake that I would be lost as soon as I saw her emerald-bright eyes. She drew out parts of me that I thought were gone. For the first time I was seeing a future, but the best I could come up with was an extended road trip far away from Clarity's home.
There had to be a way I could shield her from retaliation. Barton was out. I would have assumed he'd come after us too, but the look on his face during our golf course confrontation showed a sliver of respect. Our business was over. The mess with Michael Tailor had just started.
Clarity's presence drew me back to the bedroom and I stood in the doorway. It was strange to be so still while inside everything roiled. Her phone started to buzz. If only she could sleep for a few moments longer, maybe I could come up with something for her.
I snatched up her phone and retreated back into the kitchen. The number was blocked and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. It could have been anyone, but a cold flicker of certainty made me answer.
"Clarity Dunkirk?" A heavy male voice tried to sound cheerful.
"This is her phone," I said.
The man cleared his throat. "I need to talk with Ms. Dunkirk. She had an appointment with me on campus this morning and I have yet to see her at Landsman College."
"Who is this?" I asked. I crushed the phone in my fingers as I waited for him to respond.
"One of her professors. When is she planning to come to campus? This isn't something she should avoid."
The sharp edge of his voice cut my last scrap of peace to shreds. Tailor's men were waiting for her. Most likely for a harmless conversation that would tie her up in knots that Clarity would never be able to untangle.
I hung up on him and tossed her phone under the sofa cushions.
The scent of coffee permeated the bedroom and I heard Clarity stir in the bed. I sat down next to her just as her eyes opened. She blinked at the unfamiliar pillow, then squinted up at me.
"There you are," she murmured.
Relief made it easier to breathe. There were no traces of regret or even embarrassment in Clarity's sleepy voice. She didn't jump up with a horrified gasp and rail at herself for bad choices. Clarity was happy and relaxed.
Her hand slipped out of the sheets and squeezed my thigh. "Can't we just sleep in a little longer?" she asked.
She slipped across the bed, the sheet pulling aside to give me a glimpse of her pail skin. I leaned down and kissed her, sinking farther into her lips than the mattress. Then both our phones started buzzing and reality dragged us back.
"Don't answer it," I said.
Clarity slipped on a Landsman tee-shirt I had left thrown over my bedroom door handle. She padded on bare feet to the kitchen. "Ooh, good, there's coffee," Clarity said. "Have you checked the websites?"
"No," I admitted. "I've only been up for a few minutes."
"Good," Clarity smiled at me over the rim of a coffee mug. "I was beginning to think I didn't tire you out enough."
I slipped my hands around her waist and leaned us both against the kitchen counter. "I slept like a rock."
"A very solid, very warm, very comfortable rock," Clarity purred. Then she peeked over my shoulder towards my desk.
I let go and stepped aside. "Alright, fine, go check the websites, but I bet I can predict what you are going to find," I said. I poured myself a cup of coffee while she settled in front of my computer.
"You want the good news or the bad news?" Clarity asked.
"Bad news first. Always," I sighed.
Clarity waved me over to the computer. "Well, the article is gone from both your department website and the student newspaper website."
"So there's good news?"
She squeezed the hand I laid on her shoulder. "There's a social media storm. All the students are in an uproar about something being removed from the student newspaper website. There's a mounting protest about corruption and censorship."
I brushed aside her soft, red curls and kissed the side of her neck. "I'd say that's the best news I've heard all day,
but I think this might be better." I left a trail of warm kisses down to wear the large tee-shirt collar hung loosely over her shoulder.
"Thank god the Landsman students are getting involved," Clarity said, doing her best to resist my lips. "Maybe they can take it from here and we can skip town for a few days."
I melted behind her. In one simple comment, Clarity had just voiced the hope I hadn't allowed myself. She wanted to spend more time with me, just me. It wasn't the excitement of the expose or the convenience of hiding out at my apartment: Clarity was actually interested in me.
I knelt on the floor beside the desk chair and slipped an arm around her waist. "I've been thinking about your road trip idea—"
A heavy-handed knock on my apartment door interrupted us.
"Should we pretend we're not home?" Clarity whispered. Her eyes took on a mischievous emerald glint. "Or pretend we didn't hear. We can sneak back to bed and try to be quiet."
Clarity's lips were irresistible and I drank in ,a delicious kiss before the loud rapping sounded again. This time my phone rang in conjunction with the knocking and voices in the hallway heard it too.
"Why do you look so worried?" Clarity caught my face in between both her smooth hands.
I thought about the man on the phone, but didn't want to panic her. "It's nothing. We expected all of this." I picked up my phone and showed her the caller ID. “It's the president of the college, I'd better answer," I said.
Clarity zipped her fingers across her lips and promised to be quiet so I put the phone on speaker and answered it.
"Professor Bauer, I'm assuming you know exactly what this call is about," the president began.
"Seems you have a student uprising on your hands," I said. "They seem to be upset about proof of administrative corruption, oh, and this whole censoring the student newspaper thing."
The president's voice turned icy. "This is a courtesy call, Bauer. Campus security guards have been sent to pick you up. I thought it would look better for you and for Landsman if the police didn't pick you up this morning. The guards will discreetly escort you to the police station."
Clarity's mouth dropped open and she flapped her hands in panic but I waved her quiet. "What if discreetly doesn't work for me?" I asked.
"You need to start making some serious career choices here, Bauer," the president said. "I'm trying to help you."
"You should be helping Dean Dunkirk," I pointed out.
The president ignored me. "The head of our campus security assures me they are outside your door at this moment. They know you are at home. Do yourself a favor and let them take you into the station. It won't be so quiet if the police need to come."
"I've got nothing to hide," I said. "In fact, I think you are the one that should reconsider. This makes it seem like Landsman College has something to hide."
"This has nothing to do with Landsman College," the president snapped. "You are being charged with libel by a private citizen."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Clarity
I bit my tongue again and it hurt. Ford tried for the third time to explain to the president of Landsman College that our article was the truth.
"Libel charges are never going to stick because there is actual evidence to back up our claims. Did you even read the article, sir?" Ford asked.
"I am not in the business of reading every conspiracy theory that comes along," the president said. "I'm sure you think you are showing your students the essence of some journalistic ideal, but attacking a donor with unsubstantiated claims is not the lesson they should learn."
"No," Ford snapped, "the students are learning how power corrupts and corrupted power uses censorship as a weapon."
"The truth of this is for the police to decide," the president said dryly. "I am merely trying to extend a courtesy to a former employee."
"Oh, so there it is," Ford gave a humorless laugh, "you're final stance is to ignore the truth, get rid of me, and sweep everything else under the rug. I suggest you read the article, sir. I also suggest you listen to your students or there won't be much of a college left for you to make look good."
"Again, Mr. Bauer. I am trying to help you. Security is there to make sure you are not taken away in handcuffs. If there's nothing else I can do or say—"
"Oh, but there is," Ford snarled. "How about you send campus security to check for the men harassing Dean Dunkirk and his daughter."
"What?" I whispered. A cold hand closed around my heart as I thought about my father. I had sent him a text the night before and assured him I was safe. It had never occurred to me that he might be in actual danger.
Ford's stormy eyes flashed an apology at me before he continued. "Clarity Dunkirk received a threatening phone call this morning. A man claimed to be a professor, then immediately recanted the lie. He said he was waiting for Clarity on campus. Doesn't that sound like a student's safety is being jeopardized? Isn't that a better use of your security team's time?"
"Someone called and threatened me?" I whispered. Fear made my voice catch and it was louder than I intended.
"Mr. Bauer, please tell me you do not have a student with you at your private residence. You are far outside the bounds of propriety," the president said.
I snatched the phone from Ford before he could move. "I'd like to talk to you about propriety, sir," I snapped. "Suspending an administrator without properly reviewing the accusations seems to be a very large breach of propriety. As does compromising your students' rights to free speech by tampering with the student newspaper website."
"Ms. Dunkirk, this is an inappropriate conversation at this time—"
"You haven't even read the article. You obviously care more for the public relations look of Landsman College than the ideals it is trying to promote," I cried. "That is what is inappropriate."
"My dear girl," the president said in soothing tones. "I understand how this can all be very confusing for you."
Ford stood back and held up his hands. The president of Landsman College was on his own and I was angry.
"I refuse to let you condescend to me," I snapped. "I corroborated the evidence in the plagiarism case and that paper was planted. The facts support it. If you were interested in anything other than your image, you would open an investigation yourself. Or should I ask my fellow students to do that for you?"
There was a long stretch of silence, then the president took a deep breath. "It makes sense that Ford Bauer is using this opportunity to relive the career he ruined. It often happens with professors that come out of their vocations before they are ready. Perhaps this is my fault for welcoming him to our campus.
"I am deeply sorry that he used you as well as Landsman College. Your father's misstep was the catalyst and in the confusion that I'm sure you felt, Mr. Bauer stepped in and directed your way of thinking. I wouldn't say 'brainwashed,' but he certainly has narrowed your scope of information and pointed you in the direction that most aided him."
I set the phone down on the corner of the desk and stepped back in disgust. Ford mouthed 'I'm sorry' and reached out a hand to me. I was too angry to take it and clenched my fingers into a fist.
"I'm sorry to interrupt your practiced speech, sir," I snarled, "but you should really check your facts before continuing with this any farther. Especially since you are being recorded."
Both Ford and I heard the president's mouth snap shut.
"Ford Bauer did not 'brainwash' me. I researched my father's case and found clear evidence of tampering as well as obvious attempts at blackmail and bribery. Until you speak directly to those issues, there is no other conversation we will be having." I jammed my hands on my hips and leaned closer to the phone to make sure that the president of Landsman College could hear me. "Except if you would like to explain your reasons for covering this up so quickly. Could it be that the high-level donor in question is a friend of yours? If we continued this conversation in your office, would we see generous gifts with his name attached?"
Ford shook h
is head wildly and picked up the phone. He took it off speaker phone and held up a hand to stop me. "Sir, I think we can all agree this is getting out of hand. I'm sure there is some official protocol for discussing this situation and we would be more than happy to oblige."
"What are you saying? He's in Michael Tailor's pocket," I whispered.
Ford shook his head again. "Then we will talk again after the full facts of the case come out." He hung up the phone and flinched when I stepped forward. "Don't be mad," Ford cried. "I just wanted the conversation to be over. There wasn't anything productive there for us."
I threw my hands up in the air. "How can you tell what is and what isn't productive in the midst of all this chaos?"
As if on cue, the security guards hammered on Ford's front door again. Ford couldn't keep the smile from his face.
"What are you smiling about?" I cried. "How can you be so calm when they're here to take you to the police station?"
Ford reached me in two steps and wrapped me in his arms. I felt his deep, rumbling chuckle before I heard it. "I'm sorry, Clarity, I know this is crazy, but all of this is good news."
I pushed back and pinned him with a skeptical look. "Good news? The article's been erased, security is escorting you to the police, you're going to be sued for libel, and my father is still suspended. How is any of this good news?"
He grinned down at me. "Why would any of this be happening unless what we wrote was the truth?"
The full power of what he pointed out swept over me and I was glad for his strong arms around my waist. I swayed into him and then leaned back with a tentative smile. "We never would have gotten this kind of response unless it was true. Now they're scrambling to cover it up. That's why the president called: he's looking for the best way to spin this."
"Let's hope, for his sake, he doesn't go with the Clarity Dunkirk was brainwashed angle. I'm not sure he could survive another conversation with you," Ford chuckled again.
