Passion's Professor

Excerpt:
Chapter One

There was something about Professor Segura--a kind of electric, challenging energy that unnerved Elise Richards. She sat near the back of the class, an exotic mixture of fear and anticipation playing inside her. Today Professor Segura had surprised Elise when he greeted her by name, and several times during the lecture, allowed his intense gaze to linger on her longer than necessary. His vibrant eyes seemed disturbingly alive, as if illuminated by slow fire. Elise found it impossible to look at him without succumbing to sensations inappropriate to the classroom. Despite the interesting subject matter and his lively presentation, she was unable to concentrate.

Usually among the first to leave, she stayed today at the close of his lecture when the professor asked to see her. Elise had no idea what he wanted and grew nervous as the students left the room. But she moved forward to sit in the front row.

The usual clique of young coeds gathered around his desk, discovering last minute questions to ask, vying for his attention. Elise certainly understood these younger women though she refused to be part of their antics. Because Professor Segura was such a handsome man, any woman would admire his lean, powerful body and classically sculpted features--the strong, confident, but not overly aggressive jaw, the full, sensuous lips and the slight cleft in his chin, which hinted at gentleness. His image invaded her consciousness at the most unexpected moments.

As the last of the students departed, she shifted uneasily in her seat. Professor Segura closed the door firmly and strode back to his desk. Elise tingled all over. She imagined his gloriously muscled body moving beneath the expensive material of his suit. He seemed to flow rather than walk. She stood as he approached.

"How are you, Miss Richards?" he asked in his rich, sonorous voice. "Won't you sit down?"

As she sat, he leaned back against the front of his desk, arms outstretched, each hand caressing the edge. He took a deep breath, and Elise noticed his shirt stretch tightly across his broad chest. On an especially warm day a few weeks before, he had removed his jacket, loosened his tie and undone the top buttons of his shirt, revealing dark, manly chest hair. What did the rest of him look like beneath those well-styled clothes?

"I'm fine, Professor Segura," she replied, "but..." She didn't know how to continue. He wasn't making this interview any easier for her. His eyes bored into hers, unsettling her. She shifted in her seat, causing her long chestnut hair to cascade over her breasts. Aware of his scrutiny, she refrained from flicking the wavy mass back behind her shoulders.

"I never see you except in class," he continued, "and you're in and out so fast. You never visit during office hours." He paused, looking at her with a mixture of mock reproach and puzzlement. "I like to get to know my students. You're the only one I don't know. Do you find me unapproachable?" He leaned toward her, and a lock of hair fell forward over his brow. His hair was thick and jet-black with shining silver flecks reminiscent of a perpetually starry night. Elise fantasized about running her fingers through it.

"No, no," she blurted, caught off guard. "It's just that your explanations in class are always so ... sufficient. There's no reason to..." she fumbled. No reason to what, she thought. Did the man have such a colossal ego that one student not flattering it warranted his attention?

"Good," he said, nodding thoughtfully. "You seem to be a serious student. I like the way you ask questions. I'm impressed by the work you've handed in."

"Thank you." She found it hard to look at him. Was he mocking her? She could almost feel him concentrating on her breasts while he talked. His gaze sent hot shivers through her intimate parts and her nipples hardened under the thin cotton of her India print blouse.

Professor Segura sat on the edge of his desk. He swung his long legs and continued. "I consider myself a good judge of character and ability. I'm willing to take a chance on you."

Confused by where the conversation might be leading, Elise looked up and confronted the daring in his ebony eyes. He went on. "Would you like to work as a research assistant on my usage project? I hire only graduate students, but I think you can do the job. One of my assistants had to leave, and I want to replace her immediately. The work is almost completed, and we run out of grant money on the first." He grinned and added after a slight pause, "Many good dissertations will come out of this."

"Oh, but I've never thought about a Ph.D.," said Elise, taken by surprise. "I'm just trying to finally finish my B.A."

"And why not a Ph.D.?"

"Well, my age..."

"You can't be that old." He gave her a candid appraisal.

"I'm twenty-eight!" she asserted. Elise didn't want him to think he was dealing with another immature twenty-two-year-old. She wanted his respect.

"A reentry student then," he said, folding his arms across his chest, straining the jacket material over the rippling muscles of his upper arms. "We have many, all just finishing up their BAs," he added, mimicking her earlier statement, elfish pleasure dancing in his eyes. "But some of them, like you, should give serious consideration to continuing."

Flustered by his words and tone of voice, she didn't know how to respond to his mixture of praise and condescension. "Thank you," she said, then hesitated. Why am I thanking him?

"No need to thank me," he replied. "I'm just doing my job. We need serious, motivated students who are willing to do hard and creative work. There aren't enough of you." He frowned and swept the errant lock of hair from his brow. "Most of them just spend their four years trying to do as little as possible."

Impressed by his words, she turned practical, mulling over her own needs. "How many hours a week would it be?"

"I'm disappointed," he said. "Aren't you going to ask about the work, about the project, first?" He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees.

"Well, I'm sure it's exciting, but I have to be realistic. This is my last quarter, and I can't afford to take too much time away from my course work. They really pile it on right before graduation!" The ball's in his court now, she thought.

He was approaching her as an employer looking for talent to finish his project. Of course, he complimented her with his offer. He could just as easily have asked any one of the qualified and eager graduate students. But she had her own needs to consider. She was not another of his adoring fans who would jump at any chance to get close to him. "I'll have to think about it," she said.

"You can pick your own hours, work as much or as little as you want. We're very flexible."

"Well, if there's no real pressure," she negotiated.

"None, except to do what you do well," he replied firmly.

"Of course," Elise said, hiding her impatience. What an unnecessary stipulation, she thought. "When would you like me to start?" she asked, and rose from her seat, feeling courageous simply standing up in front of him.

He followed her movements, obviously delighted by what he saw. "Tomorrow," he said. "I'd like you to start tomorrow."

"Fine." Elise headed toward the door, relieved that the interview was over. She was hired.

Professor Segura sprang to his feet and reached the door before her. He waited for her to pass. She had never stood so close to him before. The pull of his velvet magnetism held her. "Come to my office at ten," he instructed. "You know where it is?"

"I know my way around the building," she said. Of all the classroom buildings on campus, Dwinelle was most like a maze, but the Spanish department offices were relatively easy to find.

Where earlier Elise felt helplessly embarrassed and disconcerted in his presence, she now felt confident. They smiled at each other almost like equals. "See you tomorrow, Professor," she said.

"Tomorrow," he nodded. He took one more appreciative survey of Elise, turned briskly and walked off down the hall in the direction of his office.

Elise felt like she'd just won a prize in a competition she hadn't even entered. A part-time job as a research assistant--before she graduated!

As she passed through Sather Gate, she thought about all the Nobel Prize winners from Berkeley who had walked here before her. She could imagine Professor Rafael Segura ... But why was she getting so carried away? She had just taken on extra work when she already had more than enough to keep her busy. She didn't look forward to spending more time in the library than in her apartment.

That's where she headed now--home. She expertly navigated her way through the crowd of students and a colorful throng of Hare Krishna devotees who snaked their way, dancing and chanting, through Sproul Plaza, the heart of the campus.