Everything from paper-wrapped blueberry muffins to macaroons and éclairs lines the front windows, while their arousing aroma of coffee seduces people from over a half a block away. I take one more lingering glance back at the freshly baked pink frosted donuts. I love pink anything but especially if it’s pink frosted. Next time, I tell myself one more time like I’ve repeated every day for the last week.
What I earn goes back to my mother to care for my ailing father while my twin brothers are on deployment. Right now I’m counting every penny that crosses my palms and dishing out just enough for my bare necessities, which doesn’t include pink frosted doughnuts. I help out the owner of the bakery when they need an extra hand, scoring me a few bucks and the occasional half-off coffee. It’s my only indulgence so I try not to self-judge.
I’m a workaholic and study-aholic by nature, pursuing my bachelor’s in psychology and working my way toward my master’s with a dream of going all the way to getting my Ph.D. and set up my own practice.
Maybe. It all seems like a galaxy away from the realm of possibilities.
Before I can think about any kind of future beyond this month, hell more like right this minute, I have to come up with four grand or I’ll be dropped and forced into quitting until I have the funds necessary to complete my required courses. My partial scholarship only covers so much, and the odd jobs I’ve landed so far are not cutting it.
From where I’m sitting it might as well be forty thousand.
When I received my acceptance letter, I was over the moon and didn’t hesitate at the price tag. My father was particularly proud to see me follow my dreams, and I still can’t think of that day and the way he hugged me without tearing up. To quit and walk through my parents’ door again would likely tear my father’s heart out, and I can’t do that to him, or myself. Not yet. Not until I’ve tried every last avenue available.
Like everyone about to set out in life with no real experience in the real world, I had goals and fantasies about what I wanted my life to look like. But it’s crazy to think about how fast life can change.
It almost seems like someone snapped their fingers and, in a blink, everything morphed into the nightmare I’m currently living. One day my father was in his prime and worked six days out of the week in a local factory while my mother enjoyed her closing days as a homeschool teacher to me and my brothers.
My phone rings and I dig it out of my bag. My heart thumps a little harder at seeing my parent’s number on the screen.
“Hey, momma. How’s daddy? Are you play?”
I hold my breath almost afraid to ask.
Her long sigh tells me everything. “He’s same as always, baby girl.”
Which meant his depression was still going full force which meant I needed to step it up. The pressure was on with bills from home needing paid and the tuition looming over my head.
“I just wanted to let you know your brothers called and they’re doin’ fine. I know you’re always worryin’.”
Guilty. “It’s only fair. You spent my whole life worrying about me and the boys.”
“Enough of that. I love you. You have a good day, my sweet girl.”
Easier said than done. We hang up but I can’t let go of the sad note to my momma’s voice. It’s not bubbly and as lively as it once was and my heart breaks a little bit more.
One nasty fall changed everything about a year ago. My father was disabled on the job, and a crafty, underhanded lawyer found a few ridiculous loopholes that left my father with no workman’s comp. Regardless of the years he dedicated to his job, he was shuffled off, no longer a company problem. When that happened, my father went downhill fast and, as a result, the dynamics of our family reversed. Instead of my parents helping me get through college I’ve been helping them scrape by with as much money as I can make while tending to my studies. It’s been a hellish eleven months that have driven me to the edge of quitting more than once. No matter what I say or how bad it gets, my parents won’t hear of it. But if the money issues don’t change, and fast, the choice will be made for me.
I curse under my breath, causing the girl ahead of me to narrow her pretty fake lashes at me in a scowl.
“Sorry,” I offer with a forced smile I’m not feeling. Fact is, I’m freaking out inside. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. I know someday…someday things will be better. But that day isn’t today.
“Rosa.” The barista, a guy about my age with an eye for my cleavage, calls my name, and I pull a few wrinkled bills from my wallet—there’s not much more where that came from—and pay for my meager breakfast of plain hot coffee with two sugars and snag a daily newspaper off the morning stack piled by the register. The first will help fight off Maine’s oddly cold spring while the other hopefully helps me land some kind of job so I don’t find myself out on the streets. I’ll take just about anything at this point and if it’s not soon, I’m not sure what I’ll do.
By a large menu chalkboard there’s a bowl of fortune cookies for the taking as a little token of appreciation for a patron’s return business. I snag a couple with my coffee. Why not, right? Maybe some cookie maker can enlighten me with a magical foretelling of the direction my life will take and I won’t have to guess so much.
A brisk wind swarms my exposed arms, stinging my already chilled skin. I curse myself for not grabbing something heavier before I left my apartment. I’d been in a hurry to get out the door so I could have a decent chance at getting something worth my efforts in the wanted section of the newspaper besides the dog walker and cat sitter positions.
I rub my arms. I swear, it seems like the days are getting colder rather than warmer as spring sets in, and I suddenly miss the warm Georgia days of my childhood.
I emerge from Blackthorne University’s small café with the rest of the morning crowd getting ready for a long day of classes and the inescapable hours of cramming for coming exams. I have all that too, but classes are the last thing on my mind as I snag my usual table under a whimsical willow tree with low, swaying branches. For a fleeting moment I welcome the sunshine as it fights against a coming storm.
Around me the changing seasons seems to be cranking up everyone’s energy while I can’t help but focus on the fact I might lose everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve. Within another few months I can have my bachelor’s and then work on my master’s, which will take another four years. Less if I really push myself but that would leave little time to work and make the money I need to stay in school in the first place.
A stabbing ray of envy hits me square in the chest as I watch a group of women my age stroll by without a care in the world in their eyes before I have a chance to deflect it.
Trying to keep my heart from my sleeve, I shut down all the panicking emotions. With a little more force than I intend to apply, I flick open the newspaper and start circling a few wanted ads, but I don’t see anything right off that will give me the kind of fast cash I need to pay my late school fees and keep me housed for another month.
Tempted to bolt for the safety of home instead of fighting my way through life, I pull out my phone and tackle the first wanted ad at the top of the column. Wishing things were different isn’t going to change anything.
After the tenth ring and no answer I hit end.
“Hey, sweetie, find anything interesting yet?”
I draw my eyes away from the black and white print to see a smiling brunette with a matching cup of coffee to mine and a bright yellow bag that would stand out in a post-apocalyptic blackout. The girl loved her colors.
When a less-than-modest dare I issued to my best friend, Emberly, landed her in a happily ever after between two handsome professors a few months back—yes, I did the whole jaw drop thing too—I met Amber. Full of similar dreams, we became quick friends over a quart of chocolate mint and late-night action flicks after I found her on the side of the road with no gas. While she discovered how much ice cream I can hold down, I found out her sunny disposition matches her Southern
California sun-kissed skin and bright smile, I also found she smiles to hide the pain of a terrible childhood.
“You know me, I never give up when a challenge presents itself.” I clutch my red pen like a sword and wave it around imperiously as if I’m some heroic knight charging into battle.
Sheesh. If only.
My first order of business would be to save me from my own life.
Amber smiles and takes a seat opposite me.
“You’ve been at this for a week. Still nothing?”
Amber and I have a lot in common. The love of pizza, romance books, and older men for starters. But I know she wasn’t raised with a Bible in one hand and an old-school Southern mother with omniscient tendencies that bordered on otherworldly that kept me and my brothers walking a fine line. To this day, I still don’t know how she found out about the time I snuck out of the house and made out with my cute neighbor in the back of his pick-up truck one hot summer night. I was barely sixteen, and he was on his way to college that fall, and some days I wonder what it would have been like to have my V card stamped that night.
I love my parents but the hardcore Southern upbringing they gave me and my brothers is a daily mental battle and one I often lose. Needless to say, it’s why I’m still a virgin.
I eye my friend. Another fact I know is that Amber is in the same boat I’m in with no rich mommy and daddy to help pay college bills either.
I peer over the paper spread out on the cement picnic table and feel my stomach roll in protest at my options. “You seem to be doing pretty well. How the hell are you affording this place? At this point I’m already considering selling off whatever little furniture I have in the apartment, so I think it’s safe to say I’m open to almost anything by now.”
My friend turns her full attention on me and takes a deep breath. The blue of her eyes turns bright and lasers in on me like she’s about to say something I’m either going to love or loathe with all my being. I figure it’s fifty-fifty knowing her, but I still can’t help the prickling of my skin.
“I have two options for you. There’s a pretty big strip club the next town over. The Insomnia. The clientele is friendly and loose with their money, and the manager is a woman with a no-nonsense persona. You could make the money you need there within a few weeks and no one would recognize you.”
I freeze, bringing my coffee to my lips and do an instant mental shot of me in transparent platform stilettos and a G-string, gyrating to some funky techno tune in front of a room full of pot-bellied men. I hold in a full body shiver. It’s not that I wouldn’t get up on stage if it comes down to it, but I was raised as the good, obedient daughter and fighting that upbringing is like going against a tsunami.
My face must have said everything I feel about that idea, because my friend rolls her eyes in a grand gesture of frustration.
“Okay, so it’s not luxurious and you might have to check a few of your morals at the door for the night, but it’s not like you have to fuck anybody, Rosa.”
Instead of hurting my friend’s feelings, I opt for another obvious truth. “That’s not it. It’s just that I don’t have all that golden skin or your legs, and my ass is probably a little too…err…let’s say less than perfect.” I wiggle a finger her way. “You, on the other hand, have the whole package and enough sex appeal to knock out the entire male population in a five-mile radius.”
Amber scoffs at my perfect description of her. “You need a better mirror. Stop selling yourself short. You’re sexy and don’t even know it. That’s by far more powerful than any amount of long legs and tanned skin. And your ass is hot, by the way. I see how the café owner eyes it with more enthusiasm than a man his age should have for a girl your age every time you go there for coffee. And we both know Professor Cole basically drools when he sees you in the hallways. He’s mind-fucking your tits every which way from Sunday at least three times a week.”
I scrunch my nose up and change the subject. I like older men but not elderly. “How do you know all this about the strip club anyway?”
Amber sits straighter and looks around before leaning in a fraction. Her expression gives away an inner turmoil. “Hey, okay. So please don’t judge, but…I…huh…I started working there a few weeks ago.”
She blushes deeply, and I take her hand in mine.
It makes me furious that life has to be so damn unfair to people who work so hard to get ahead and are as genuinely kind-hearted as Amber. “Hey, no judging zone, remember?”
I mentally run the numbers of the cost of tuition versus lousy paychecks this town offers. Maybe I’m being too much of a prude after all. Shouldn’t I at least consider all options?
I lean forward. “Do you think a job like that can really rake in a large paycheck? I might be willing to do a little pole shimmying beside you if it makes a few grand in…” I pull out a white envelope from my bag and open the tuition statement from the university. “…exactly seventy-two hours.”
My friend rolls her eyes. “Yeah, no. Not that fast. That’s not going to happen. I’m lucky if I make a hundred in tips a night. This isn’t some joint in the heart of Vegas or some swanky high-end establishment in New York.”
I fumbled the little packets holding the fortune cookies. Maybe there was a better answer inside one of those crunchy little cookies. “You mentioned a second option?” I’m almost too scared to ask but what the hell, right?
A devilish grin spreads across Amber’s lips as she considers me for a few seconds. “Lux’s.”
My fingers still, and my mouth drops open.
“Lux? As in the super-secret gentleman’s club on the outskirts of town? That fortress of a castle-like place that looks like Dracula will walk out of the dungeon at any minute.”
She shoots an imaginary finger gun at me before taking one of my cookies. “Yep! That’s the one.”
Fuck.
It’s only the most whispered about club in all of Maine, and people of my caliber don’t belong there. People travel from surrounding states, and farther, to be considered a member of such a prestigious society made up of some of the wealthiest in not only the United States but from all over, if the rumors are to be believed. I like to think of it as the Hamptons of Maine with a hint of dirty. I don’t know for sure, but I do know no one has done anything to dispel them.
From the outside, the castle-like mansion appears to be misplaced in time by a century or two with an alluring gothic vibe. Through a thicket of pines, gargoyles perched atop high stone walls topped with spires can be appreciated from the scenic mountain road in passing. Add in the members-only entry and you have all the fodder one needs to have the rumor mills churning.
“I’m not hooking myself out. High-end or not. I do that and everyone in this town will know. I haven’t landed at that level yet. I’d like to leave that option below stripping if it comes to it.”
Amber nods. “Your mom and dad still having problems?”
“I can’t seem to find a way to break my father out of his depression after that damn accident. I’m afraid with the boys’ deployment overseas, my mom will fall in the same decline right along with my dad.”
“Listen, I know this has to be tough. I know. Okay.”
“I know you do.”
Amber takes my hand in hers.
“Just think about it. The auction is a benefit for helping the disabled. That’s right in your wheelhouse, plus you get paid for your time. Twenty percent. Last month I made five grand for a dinner with a couple of gentlemen and after our shared meal, they drove me home and thanked me for sharing my time with them. End of story. They hold the auction at this address, and the next one is tomorrow evening.”
Amber pulls out a black card with raised gold lettering and slips it into my hand.
“Are you sure no sleeping with the winners is necessary? I see that blush and twinkle in your eye just talking about it.”
Amber shrugs but doesn’t hold my gaze. “I did one auction but I’m sworn to secrecy, as you’ll find out.
But I will say this. What girl doesn’t love the attention from two gorgeous men with swoon-worthy middle-eastern accents that, by all accounts, no doubt woo women right out of their panties? But…I don’t know.”
There’s a flash of something in her eyes, and I hear a longing in my friend’s voice that wasn’t there the last time we spoke.
“But you have your eyes on someone else, don’t you?” I ask softly. I know the feeling all too well. Only Professor Blackthorne doesn’t know I exist beyond being the girl in the third row of his psyche class. He doesn’t know I spend half his lecture in stupid wildly inappropriate daydreams, wondering what his hot lips would feel like wrapped around my excited nipples. Or, like yesterday, the filthiest fantasy to date. Him spreading my thighs as he lays me back across his desk and making me whimper with need as he slips his cockhead between my untouched folds. In my fantasy, he’s taking me bare, and I feel every delicious, throbbing vein in his thick cock as he punches my V card and claims me as his forever.
He definitely has no idea Emberly issued me the same dare I gave her, which was to take what I want. A dare to go after the man that makes me weak in the knees, steals my thoughts at odd times of the day and makes me wetter than the Niagara Falls in the middle of his class…as well as study time, meals, bedtime. Okay, every freaking waking minute of my day. Even now juice pools between my thighs and dampens my panties.
God, I’m pathetic. I can’t even take the advice I gave my friend and reach out and grab what I want. A six-foot tall psych professor with the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen, strong hands I imagine undress me every time I walk through the door of his classroom and the sexiest voice I’m dying to hear whisper in my ear as he takes me as his.
Yeah right. I could never belong to a man like that. As the eldest grandson of the man who established this university, he’s way out of my league.
Forbidden Professors Boxed Set: A Forbidden Professor Student Romance Collection Page 9
