Chapter Two

Tessa

 

 

Good one, Tessa. My first day at my new TA position and I’m late. I mentally kicked myself for my tardiness. It was going to be one of those days. I just knew it. As if being late weren’t bad enough, I looked like hell. My alarm hadn’t gone off. When I woke, it had been too late for a shower.

I managed to get a quick sponge bath, hitting the high spots, then rubbed on deodorant and rushed out the door, only to discover I had locked my keys in the house. I had to decide between trying to break in and retrieve the keys so I could drive to my new job or hauling ass on my bike. I’d gone with the bike.

Now, sweat pooled between my breasts, my hair was stuck to the back of my neck and my forehead. Thank God I had put on deodorant or I would have stunk up the entire room. I was too old, in my opinion, to care what a bunch of community college freshmen thought of my appearance. In fact, I didn’t much care what anybody thought on most days, but today, today I had wanted to look professional.

I looked up, wanting to get a better look at my new boss. There was something about him that drew me in. I watched him from behind, occasionally getting a glimpse of his profile. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome, but there was something else. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

He turned to look at me. I gulped, embarrassed that he had caught me staring. The look he gave me made me feel as if I was two inches tall. It was a look of irritation combined with—disgust?

It instantly pissed me off. How dare he look at me in self-righteous contempt? So I was a few minutes late. It wasn’t like I was getting paid the big bucks to make his job easier. I defiantly stared back, not willing to back down.

He turned his broad back to me once again and continued his lecture about life under the water.

“Life under the ocean is unlike anything you will ever experience up here. There’s a magical symbiotic balance that we humans will never fully understand,” he said, in a smooth voice that reminded me of melting butter.

I found myself captivated by his words. He spoke with his entire body. His shoulders moved forward, and his arms spread wide as he talked about the vastness of the world beneath the surface. His voice deepened when he spoke of the deep-sea dives he had been on and the beauty of the life that lived in the water.

I suddenly had an urge to go diving. I grabbed my phone and quickly texted Maria.

Let’s go diving soon.

Uh, why?

I smiled. My roommate was the kind of girl who called things as she saw them. She pulled no punches.

New professor. Has me fired up to dive.

Ha-Ha. Fine, maybe in a couple weeks. Busy, gotta go.

I was excited to get under the water. I hadn’t been diving in a long time, but hearing him speak so eloquently made me want to jump in, gear or not.

As I listened to him speak, I noticed he kept using past tense. It sounded as if he hadn’t been out in a while. I stared down at the syllabus with his name across the top. The name was familiar. Reaching for my phone again, I texted my friend in the admin office.

Who is Professor Dunlap? What’s his story?

DeAnn replied a few minutes later. The phone vibrated on the desk, earning me a stern look from the professor.

“Sorry,” I whispered, quickly silencing it before reading the response.

Nice guy. Was a big shot in the marine world. Handsome as hell.

I rolled my eyes. That wasn’t the information I was looking for.

Yeah, I can see that. Married? I asked.

Wife and kid died four years ago.

The words made me flinch as I suddenly realized who he was. I looked up at the man I had read about when I was in high school. My goal had been to go to the University of Florida, but family finances made it impossible. I had researched all of the professors and remembered reading about him. The students had given him rave reviews. A rising star in the marine world, he abruptly quit teaching after his family had been killed.

I looked away when he turned around. He walked to his desk and pushed papers aside. My eyes went to his left hand, where he still wore his wedding ring. I choked back a sob. Now I knew what it was about him that I couldn’t reconcile, and I recognized it now as grief. My hand went to the small medallion under my shirt, nestled between my breasts. It was a necklace my sister had given me nearly ten years ago. I never took it off—it was how I kept Talia close to me.

Looking down at my desk, I shut my eyes and started taking in deep breaths, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. Eight months had dulled the pain, but at times it all boiled up like a tidal wave washing over me. This was one of those moments. I blinked rapidly several times and tried to clear my mind and focus on what the professor was saying.

Despite my best efforts, my mind drifted back to his personal life. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what the pain of losing a child would be like. I watched him as he strolled between the desks down one row, and then up another. It gave me the chance to study his face. He was handsome, in a George Clooney kind of way. He had been happy once; I could see the laugh lines around his mouth and eyes as proof.

Those green eyes told the story of his grief. There were dark circles under each of those captivating green eyes, framed by the longest, darkest lashes I had ever seen on a man. I imagined he would have been a real lady killer in his youth. A smile crossed his face as he talked about a particular dive he had been on.

I found myself grinning in response. When he smiled, he was even more attractive. It was a glimpse into who he had been before death and its nasty, biting pain destroyed him. I allowed myself to casually study him from afar. His voice was soothing, and I found myself drawn to the casual yet authoritative way he spoke.

When class was over, I was a little bummed; I had actually enjoyed his lecture. I needed to apologize for my tardiness but wasn’t into public confessions. I waited until the last student had left the classroom before I stood and walked towards him at the back of the room. Was he ignoring me or preoccupied with whatever was in the box?

“Excuse me, Professor Dunlap?” I started.

“Hmm,” he grunted in response.

“I’m Tessa McShane. I’m so sorry about earlier. About being late and interrupting. That isn’t like me, and I want you to know it will never happen again. It was a rough morning,” I explained. I was hoping I sounded properly apologetic but had no idea what he was thinking, and his back remained turned away from me. Rude.

“Fine,” he mumbled, strolling toward his desk without even giving me a second glance.

I followed behind his six-foot-tall frame. His long, easy strides were a little tough for my smaller legs to keep up with, but I did. I wasn’t letting him walk away that easily.

“Professor,” I started again but stopped when he reached the desk and spun around with a sheet of paper in his hand.

“This is my syllabus. Study it and know the details. Come to class knowing what to expect. There may be times when I need you to fill in for me. I also expect you to keep me on track with appropriate materials and things of that nature,” he said, in a firm, but calm voice.

I studied him, wondering if anything got him fired up. He seemed to be very mild mannered; one of those guys who would be an excellent emergency room doctor. Nothing bothered them.

Smiling, I said, “Great, thank you. I’ll look this over and be ready for class tomorrow. Again, I really do apologize.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, in a friendlier tone now.

“Is there anything else you’d like me to do?” I asked, not ready to end our conversation.

He shrugged. “I would appreciate any help you can provide to keep things organized. I like to utilize every minute of class to teach and hate looking for documents or searching for a PowerPoint presentation. I may occasionally need your help putting a presentation together, or at least getting your opinion on one.”

I nodded. “Of course. Sure, I can do that—anything you need,” I said, walking back to my desk and quickly jotting down my cell number.

He was watching me, I could feel it. I felt the effect of some natural instinct to try my best to look sexy as I smiled and walked back to him, holding out the scrap of paper.

“This is my number. Feel free to text or call if you need something. I don’t always check email and would hate to show up to class unprepared.”

He reached out and took the paper, stared at it and then stuffed it into the pocket of his black slacks. I suddenly felt like I made a huge mistake. Did I violate some rule? He seemed a little weirded out.

“Uh, okay, then. I need to get going,” I stammered, walking back to my desk to collect my things.

When I turned to leave, he was still standing in the same spot, looking at me. A bolt of heat slammed into me. His steady gaze held me in place. I couldn’t move. I stared back, looking into those green eyes that held so much pain and sorrow. There was a hint of something else I couldn’t quite put my thumb on.

With a quick shake of my head, I tried to focus. This was not a man who got hot and bothered by his younger assistant. It was probably irritation that I saw. He was irritated with me for being forward and unprofessional.

“See you tomorrow,” I said, as I walked by him once my legs finally started working again.

“Yeah, tomorrow,” he said, clearing his throat.

I dreaded the ride home. The humidity was high today. I hated the humidity but loved Florida. You had to take the good with the bad, I supposed.

Breaking into my rented house was fairly easy. Maybe a little too easy I thought to myself, realizing my roommate and I should probably be a little more safety conscious. We never locked the kitchen window in the back, assuming nobody would bother going around to the back of the house. That was pretty dumb, I realized.

I walked through the small two-bedroom house and unlocked the front door, then grabbed my backpack and headed back inside. The backpack landed on the table with a loud thud. I sighed, thinking about my morning and decided to stay in for the rest of the day. I deserved it.

My gaze went to the picture on the mantle like it always did. There, the smiling face of my beautiful little sister was looking back at me. Staring at the picture of Talia made me want to both scream and cry at the same time. It was so unfair. She should still be here. She should be starting her third year of college. Instead, she was buried in Georgia.

The tears clouded my vision, and before I knew it, they were streaking down my face. Why I kept that picture there, I didn’t know. Every time I looked at it, I was slapped with a horrible sense of loss, as if I were missing a part of my very soul. The picture was in the same spot it had been for nearly two years. After her death eight months ago, I couldn’t bring myself to move it, and Maria hadn’t touched it either. There was a layer of dust over the glass, dulling Talia’s once bright smile. I couldn’t touch the picture. Every day I promised myself soon. Soon I would be able to dust it and look at the picture and smile. That day hadn’t yet come.

Taking a deep breath, I turned away and headed for the bathroom to wash my face. I wanted to show Professor Dunlap that I was the best assistant in the school. I couldn’t risk him firing me because I needed that credit to graduate on time. No way could I afford to repeat a semester to make up for the one I had completely blown after Talia’s death.