SEAL's Technique Box Set (A Navy SEAL Romance)

by Claire Adams

  Ford pulled away and cleared his throat. "I never understood how long dresses and high heels mixed," he said.

  I forced a giggle. "The lights going out didn't help."

  "I forgot they turn out the building lights after midnight, not that I'm usually here this late," Ford said. He turned and pushed his desk chair in. "Don't worry, there's enough light from the exit signs and windows to see our way down to the front."

  I turned back to his nearly empty bookshelves and pretended I needed a minute to remember where his copy of A Moveable Feast was supposed to fit. It was a thin ruse but, then again, so was his rummaging around in his desk drawers as if his keys weren't in his pockets.

  Ford opened another drawer and pulled out a small, laminated card. "I better call security and let them know we're still in here before they lock the doors. I don't think shimmying down a rain gutter is going to work in that dress."

  "No, don't!" I cried. I spun from the bookshelf and dodged over to his desk to put both hands over his phone.

  It took no more than a few seconds for Ford to catch my reason for panic. Despite the fact that the overheated moment we had just shared our office visit had been innocent, the likelihood of campus security seeing it that way was significantly less. I knew for a fact, from my father, that most of the campus-wide rumors flew from the mouths of the security guards. They saw everything and often drew their own conclusions, mostly for fun.

  What would they say when Ford and I sauntered out together in our formal wear?

  He said nothing, but stepped back and crossed his arms. The look on his face was a choppy surf of frustration and fear. It was much more his reputation than mine at stake. I would only lose face while he could lose his job.

  "Let me call them," I said. "I'll just tell them I was picking up a paper and didn't realize the time."

  Ford leaned over to the sofa and picked up the forgotten pages. "That's the truth," he said.

  He didn't meet my eyes, and I knew whatever we had felt moments before was gone. I picked up the phone and dialed. "Hi, sorry, I'm in an open office in Thompson Hall, and the lights just went out. Yes, yeah, I know. I was picking up a paper from my professor and didn't realize it was past midnight."

  I hung up and trotted to the door. "Thanks for the comments on my creative writing, Professor Bauer," I said.

  He followed me into the hallway and pulled his office door shut behind him. "I'll walk you down," he said.

  "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

  Ford scowled. "I've fallen asleep in my office once or twice. I'm sure the security guard will think nothing of it happening again."

  The beefy security guard at the front door didn't even raise an eyebrow. "Student ID," he held out his hand to me.

  Before Ford could say whose daughter I was, I lied. "It didn't match my dress for the donors’ dinner. My name's Trisha Maxwell."

  The security guard rolled his eyes and opened the door for me. "Asleep at the wheel again, Ford?" he asked.

  Ford scrubbed a hand over his face as if he'd just woken up. "Would have slept all night if I didn't hear her clattering around."

  We stepped out into the cool night air, and Ford followed me down the sidewalk. I shivered, but refused to look back, afraid he would offer me his coat again.

  Chapter Eight

  Ford

  "Hold on. Let me lock up," the security guard said. He rattled a large ring of keys and pulled the doors securely shut behind him. "You're sure no one else is rattling around in there?"

  I shrugged but shook my head. "The School of Journalism doesn't really work late at night. Our department head likes everyone to stick to a strict schedule."

  The guard rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it. Last week, I was on my rounds, and she timed how long it took for me to check the first floor."

  "Well, you can always blame it on me. Or just mention my name, and she'll move on," I laughed.

  "She after you too?" The guard slapped me on the shoulder, then followed Clarity down the steps. "How about I give you a ride to your dorm?"

  "No, that's alright, I live..." Clarity caught herself before she pointed in the direction of her father's house. "I'm just heading over there."

  "Meeting your boyfriend, huh?" The security guard looked back at me and grinned. "Bet he opted for beer pong and the party at the frat house instead of wearing a tuxedo and being a decent escort for her. Charming."

  "There's another party at the frat house?" I asked. "I thought the Dean of Students was telling them to make them less frequent."

  The security guard heaved a big sigh as he hefted himself up into his campus pickup truck. "He couldn't tell them no after they creamed the Lawrence team. Looks like we've got a winning team this year."

  Clarity had taken a few steps away but stopped. "Why isn't that a good thing?"

  "More wins, more parties, those boys starting thinking they're big men. Someone's got to put them in their place, and you know how exhausting that is?" The guard shut his door and leaned on the window. "You sure you don't want a lift back to your dorm?"

  "I'll walk with her," I volunteered. "Nothing kills a party like a professor."

  "No offense, Ford, but you look more like a student than a professor. Get yourself a tweed jacket or something, for god's sake."

  I laughed. "I'm in a tuxedo, doesn't that give me any gravitas?"

  The guard shook his head with a grin. "Not even with that big vocabulary. Alright, miss, you let the professor there walk with you. And if those boys can't behave themselves, go straight for a knee to the groin."

  "Sound advice," I agreed.

  Clarity laughed but took off down the sidewalk without me. The campus pickup truck drove off. I caught up with Clarity, but couldn't think of a thing to say. We walked a few dozen yards in silence, just taking in the peaceful chill of the fall night.

  Outwardly, the night was calm and quiet, but inside I was a riot. Clarity's creamy skin in the moonlight made it impossible for me to adopt the patriarchal professor role I had all but promised the security guard I could take on. All I could think about was the stumble that brought our bodies together, the lights going out and plunging us into an insulated darkness where anything felt possible.

  Every fiber of my body still called out for her kiss, and my mind kept circling back to the memory of our lips only inches apart.

  It sounded so wildly inappropriate, a professor lusting after a student, but it felt different. I knew from my first-year disaster what was wrong, and I couldn't help but wonder if this was right. Clarity looked at the world with clear eyes and was open about what she could and could not handle.

  I was different too. It wasn't lust that drove me closer to her as we walked along the sidewalk. It was a magnetic desire to talk to her, to hear what was on her mind. She always surprised and inspired me, and I hadn't felt inspiration like that in years.

  "You're shivering; here, take my coat," I said. I slipped off the tuxedo jacket again and swung it towards her shoulders.

  Clarity ducked away. "No, thank you. I'm fine."

  We rounded the corner and could see the frat house far in the distance. The raucous party was spilling out the front door and down the porch to the lawn. We had a dozen or so yards of peace before those drunken football players saw her and started their cat calls.

  I wanted to stop her, to make her turn to me. The sickening thought that she really was going to see her boyfriend sent my mind spinning.

  "Are you still seeing that quarterback?" I caught her arm and stopped her cold.

  "Adam?" Clarity blinked up at me. "Are you kidding? You were there the last time I went out with him, remember?"

  "Yeah, well, the kid's on a winning streak. He's going to be king of campus for the rest of the season. Isn't that what college girls find attractive?"

  Clarity did not shake off my hand on her bare arm. Instead, she patted my cheek and gave me a silly, condescending smile. "College girls are actually women, and everyone knows that fema
les mature a lot faster than males."

  I swallowed hard and wished she hadn't voiced my earlier thoughts. "Excuse me," I said, "but last time I checked, a hot quarterback was every woman's type."

  Clarity dropped her hand but kept smiling up at me. "Adam's tall, dark, and handsome, and I have to admit he's attractive, but he still isn't my type. I'm not looking for someone to spout sports scores and brag about touchdown passes."

  "Then what are you looking for?" I let go of her arm as the question surprised us both. "I'm sure Landsman College has plenty of sensitive poets or focused scientists. You can take your pick."

  Clarity laughed and shook her head. "No, I couldn't. And all I'm looking for is someone who challenges me, someone who pushes me to be more. I don't really get that from college guys. It's probably going to have to be someone older, who's been out in the world."

  My fingers brushed one silky curled hair hanging loosely. "I'm glad you know you deserve better than a frat house football player."

  "You know I'm really going home, right? I have no intention of going to that party at all," Clarity said. Her face leaned toward my hand, and she brushed her cheek along my fingers.

  I stepped back and shoved both hands in the pockets of my tuxedo pants. "Always the good girl. I bet the dean never even gives you a curfew because you're always home on time anyway."

  "Good girl?" Clarity asked. "What about the blatant lies I just told a campus security guard? Pretty sure that breaks the honor code too."

  I wondered if giving the security guard a false name rated up there with almost kissing me in my office. Clarity had leaned in, her fingers tugging at my shirt front. I knew I hadn't imagined that. She was just as aware as I was how close we'd come, but I didn't see even a glimmer of regret in her green eyes.

  "Do you think the honor code encompasses all honor?" I asked.

  Her face lit up at the challenging question. "Interesting. Are you asking me if I believe in white lies?"

  "Well, you did just give the security guard a false name to save your father any possible embarrassment," I said.

  "True." Clarity tipped her face to the night sky and thought for a moment. "The Honor code doesn't have a section about lies meant as small kindnesses."

  "You should tell your father to include a section on that," I joked.

  Clarity smiled but shook her head. "My father loves to talk about creativity and passion, but he won't let anyone bend the rules. The honor code is his crowning achievement."

  "Yet the students still love him. He has to have a level of understanding that isn't set in black and white type on college letterhead."

  Clarity sighed. "He's friendly, he's approachable, but he's strictly by the books. Why do you think he's such a great dean of students?"

  "Even when it comes to his own daughter and her pursuit of happiness?" I asked.

  She took a few, meandering steps down the sidewalk and disappeared into the shade of a large maple. The tree still retained a thick canopy of dark-red leaves that rustled in the chill breeze. I followed her and held out my jacket again.

  "No, thanks, I like feeling the changing season," Clarity said. She cocked an eyebrow at me. "And, yes, I'm sure my father would disapprove."

  I laughed. "He keeps talking about breaking you out of your shell. He wants you to branch out and explore all the possibilities. I wonder what he'd think if you actually followed his advice."

  Clarity laughed and rubbed her silken, bare arms. "He'd jump online and find the nearest nunnery then pack my bags for me."

  "Oh, come on, your father is a good man. He knows that some day he'll have to let you make your own mistakes."

  "Is that what breaking out of my shell would be? A mistake?"

  I rolled my eyes and laughed. "No, Miss By-the-Books. Revelations are uncomfortable, and they aren't always the exact right thing, but they are never mistakes." I stepped closer to her in the shadow of the tree. "I can just imagine what'll you'll be like once you're free of all these self-imposed practicalities."

  "Oh?" Clarity gave me a playful shove. "And what do you imagine I'll be like?"

  "A wild Bohemian with tangled hair that runs around barefoot and speaks to the universe through the written word."

  Clarity used both hands to shove my chest again as she laughed. "Really? Well, then let me imagine you out of your hard shell."

  "I don't have a hard shell," I rubbed my chest as if she'd wounded me.

  "'Self-imposed practicalities' seems like an apt description for you too. Once those are gone, I imagine you are much different."

  I crossed my arms over my chest. "And what do you imagine is under my hard shell?"

  Clarity's eyes sparkled even in the deep shadow of the tree. "I bet you write beat poetry, drink shots of fireball whiskey, and dance on tabletops when you're not trying to be a buttoned-up professor."

  "What?"

  "Based on your level of chagrin, I must be close." Clarity clapped her hands in delight. "I can just see it now. You alone in your place, the music turned up, dancing around in your underwear, free as a bird."

  She held up her hands and undulated her hips in a jerky, awkward rhythm. Clarity giggled, but bit her lower lip in a ridiculous expression and continued her impression of me.

  "Really?" I asked.

  "What, is it more like this?" Clarity bopped her bare shoulders up and down in a clumsy and silly dance. She did her best bad dance moves through the dry leaves in between bursts of giggles.

  "You look ridiculous," I chuckled.

  "This is you," she waggled her eyebrows at me and danced over closer.

  "Fine," I said, tossing the rented tuxedo jacket on the dry ground. "I know you think you're all gorgeous in that dress, but this is what you probably look like when you dance." I clapped my arms straight to my sides and swayed like a stiff board.

  "No!" Clarity smacked my arm.

  I caught her hand and spun her in a circle. We shuffled through the fallen leaves and laughed.

  Clarity wrapped her other arm around me as we danced, and our smiles brushed together. The kiss was so natural, so easy, that neither of us paused. She leaned up as I pulled her to me, and our lips explored happily before a deeper hunger took over.

  I pressed into the kiss and felt Clarity open to let me in. She tasted of fresh fall air and laughter. Our tangled bodies kept swaying to unheard music while the faint trace of her tongue strummed up a cacophony inside me.

  We heard the running footsteps too late. The jogger, in neon pink shorts and loudly beating headphones charged around the corner and under the shadow of the tree.

  "Whoa, sorry lovers!" she called out with a surprised giggle. "Aren't you both dressed a little too fancy for a roll in the leaves?"

  Clarity and I pushed apart as my heart exploded in fear. The runner circled around us at a quick pace, enjoying her opportunity to tease two people in a vulnerable situation.

  "Please, don't stop on my account. You're probably going to get a better workout than me tonight." She cat called and ran another laughing lap around us.

  I recognized her and fought the urge to hide my face. The girl peered into the shadows with a teasing look that froze as she made out our faces.

  She skidded to a stop and turned around. "Wait a second. Are you kidding me? Give me one good reason I shouldn't go straight to report this to the Honor Council."

  "What? Libby, you know me. It's Clarity. I helped you with that Aristotle paper, remember? Can't you just pretend you didn't see anything?" Clarity asked. She clutched her fingers together and held them out beseechingly to Libby.

  Libby crossed her arms. "And what exactly am I not seeing? It looks a lot like you're making out with a professor in the bushes. God, you should be glad I got here when I did, or you were going to break all kinds of rules. Isn't that a little out of character for you, goodie-goodie?"

  "Yes, it's all my fault. I've, I've been drinking but you're wrong, he's not a professor, he's—"

  I cut Clarity off
before she could lie for me. "Libby knows who I am."

  "I sure do, Professor Bauer," Libby snapped.

  I snatched up my rented tuxedo coat and marched through the leaves to where Libby bounced near the sidewalk. I caught her elbow in a hard grip and pulled her farther down the sidewalk away from Clarity. "A word, Ms. Blackwell?"

  Clarity wrapped her arms around her waist and backed away to the far curve of the sidewalk, out of ear shot.

  Libby yanked her elbow from my grip and hissed up at me. "Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do. You're torturing me. Did my roommates tell you my regular route, or have you been watching me?"

  I suppressed a disgusted shudder as Libby licked her lips. "This has nothing to do with you, Libby, and you're going to keep it that way."

  "Am I?" Libby put her fists on her hips. "I think it has everything to do with me. You're trying to make me jealous, aren't you, Ford? Two years apart, and you're losing it. Well, you don't have to pretend to be a cruel ex-boyfriend anymore. You don't have to hide in the bushes just to get my attention."

  I wrapped my fingers into fists. "I am not your ex-boyfriend, Libby. You need to get that straight. We made a mistake. I was a new professor, and you were a wild freshman. Just because we slept together a few times does not mean we had a relationship. It was a mistake, and it's time you let it go."

  "Let it go? I remember you really let go on the floor of your apartment. We couldn't even make it to the bedroom. So hot."

  I stepped back before she could reach for me. "I was drinking too much back then, and I'm not proud of what I did."

  "Lots of professors would be proud to have such a hot, steamy, insatiable affair with a student like me."

  My heart hammered as I looked to see if Clarity had overheard. She was preoccupied with an approaching group of partiers, clearly on their way to the frat house.

  Libby followed my glance, and her voice was sharp with jealousy. "You at it again, professor? Seriously? You know her father is the dean of students, right? Oh, it is going to be too fun to tell him what I saw."