Ford's bright grin surprised me after the gentle caress. I took a step back and gave him a wary look. "Ecstatic? Have you lost your mind?"
He dropped my hands only to bring one hand to my cheek. "Clarity, you have no idea. You inspired me. You gave me a way to get my integrity back and do something good. I feel renewed, excited. The anticipation is intoxicating."
My body thumped as if a large door had just swung open inside me. I knew he meant the anticipation of breaking the news story, but the heat where his hand touched me suggested otherwise. We were off campus, Ford was off the clock, and we were finally just two consenting adults alone in an apartment.
"So let's do it," a voice said and a heartbeat later I realized it was my own.
Blue blazed through Ford's eyes and his gaze dropped to my lips. There he fought for a moment, then dropped his hand, and turned to his computer. "You're right, let's get the truth out there and see what happens."
Ford sat down at his computer and I looked over his shoulder. With a few swift keystrokes, he signed in to the School of Journalism and used his faculty password to access the department web page. He uploaded our article, and it became the cover copy within seconds.
"Your phone's ringing," I said.
"They'll take that down right away, but I couldn't resist." Ford then opened our student newspaper page and published the expose as the main headline. "This is password protected and should take them longer to shut down."
I leaned over him and reached for the keyboard. "Then let me link it to social media. If students don't read it, they'll at least get outraged when the article is removed."
Ford scooted his chair back. I was so intent on getting the message out there that I perched on his knee so I could type easier. When I was done, we sat together and watched the article circulate through the student population and beyond in a matter of minutes.
A strand of my hair caught in Ford's stubble and he gently brushed it away. The faint caress sent a bolt of lightning through my body. Ford felt my reaction and the muscles of his thighs tightened underneath me.
There was no one way to stand up without giving him an intimate view of my backside but I did it as quickly as I could. I hated the nervous giggle that escaped my lips. "My stomach's growling," I lied. "Too bad we can't really order a pizza now, or people will know you're home."
He stood up and took my breath away with the first step he took towards me. The rumpled white shirt, his charcoal dress pants, the sheen of his black leather belt. Ford's dark hair was tussled and his five o'clock shadow was dark. He looked so delicious, it was no wonder my brain had jumped on hunger as an excuse.
Ford took my hand and guided me into the kitchen. He opened up his freezer and grinned. "My apartment might be bare, but the kitchen is fully stocked. What are you in the mood for?"
The thought of what I was in the mood for covered me in a wave of heat the freezer could not combat. I had only had two serious boyfriends since high school, and one silly fling last summer. They had given me good ideas, but none of them had elicited such a deep-seated craving.
"I've got frozen scallops and sirloin steaks. We could do a little surf and turf. Maybe a salad on the side? I think there's even frozen breadsticks in here somewhere," Ford said.
"You know how to make all that?" I asked.
He laughed. "You thought I survived on cafeteria food and take-out, didn't you? There's more to me than you know, Clarity."
As he rummaged around in the freezer, my eyes dropped to the firm outline of his backside, and I shocked myself. There was no way Ford's mind was anywhere near my thoughts and I was horrified at how out of control I was getting.
"You don't need to go to any trouble." I retreated across the kitchen to lean on the opposite counter.
Ford gathered the ingredients and put them down next to me. Then he leaned in close and smiled down at me. "What if I'm excited to cook for you? Will you let me?"
Words deserted me and my traitorous body lifted a hand to finger his open collar. All I could do was nod.
Ford's breath came faster, but he reached up and opened the cabinet behind me. "Then since we're stuck in this self-imposed quarantine, we might as well relax. Would you like a glass of wine?"
I slipped into the corner between the counter and the sink. Ford followed me and reached behind me again, this time to find two wine glasses. He didn't move to release me as he uncorked the wine on the counter next to me and poured us each a glass of deep-red wine.
"Here's to Ford Bauer, crusader against corruption," I raised my glass in the small space between us.
He tapped his glass against mine and it chimed softly. "What, no more Professor Bauer?"
"You might not be a professor anymore," I said.
Ford took a slow sip of wine and then smiled as he looked at me. He leaned forward again and his voice was as rough and soft as I imagined his stubbled cheek to be. "Why does that suddenly make me so happy?"
"Well, I'm hoping you're a chef instead because I have no idea what to do with any of this," I quipped.
"Want me to show you?" Ford smiled and stepped back. He found a bowl and started thawing the scallops in the sink. Then he unwrapped the steaks and set them to defrost in the microwave.
His kitchen was small but well-equipped. The counters weren't Spartan, but they were meticulously clean, and soon he opened drawers and cupboards and covered the counters with ingredients. There were cutting boards with fresh vegetables and apothecary jars full of spices. In between his whirlwind prep, Ford rushed out to the living room and put on a record.
All I could do was stand back and enjoy the view. Ford was relaxed and his eyes sparkled. It reminded me of when we met at my father's cocktail party, before Ford knew me as a student. When he taught me how to mix up a rub for the steaks, there was no awkwardness between us.
Ford eyed the stovetop as everything sizzled. "Do you think it's enough?" he asked.
I took a long sip of wine. "I think it is an amazing last meal," I joked.
"You're right," Ford chuckled. "We might as well go all out. How about a fire in the fireplace?"
"I can do that. At least let me help with something." I marched over to his fireplace and grinned. His bare apartment was deceiving, he had everything we needed and more. The pine logs were dry, there was a neat stack of kindling, and the matches were long-handled and easy to strike.
When I turned around, Ford was smoothing a white sheet over the coffee table. "It's brand new," he said, "just out of the package." He shoved the rest of the sheet set underneath the sofa and then placed two sterling silver candleholders on the coffee table.
I helped set the table and my hands trembled as I set down our wine glasses. Ford brought in our plates and my mouth watered as he sat down on the floor next to me. Buttery scallops nestled next to spice-rubbed steaks and a crisp green salad. The breadsticks were warm and toasty from the oven.
Ford watched me take the first bite of perfectly grilled steak. My eyes rolled up to the ceiling as I savored it and a small moan escaped my lips. His fingers tightened on the stem of his wine glass. "So, what do you think? Can I be a chef instead of a professor?"