“WHAT DO YOU KNOW about sex anyway?”
Miranda had expected that question—loud and public and smack in the middle of her lecture on the hormonal effects of sexual arousal on the female brain. Just as she feared, this morning’s front-page exposé in the student newspaper called to question the very essence of her credibility as a scientist and educator.
What she hadn’t anticipated was the question coming from Dr. Noah Yeager.
She turned away from the white board and faced her class. The full auditorium of college undergraduates had politely failed to mention the article even though each of them carried a copy between their books. Unfortunately, Noah had never shown such a preference for diplomacy. He preferred charging straight ahead and “confronting the conflict,” his favored phrase. Anything to avoid a snowball of emotion.
Now wasn’t the time to tell him he was just a little too late.
PRACTICALLY A VIRGIN, the headline screamed, followed by a detailed account of Miranda’s personal life—courtesy of her sister. After making countless references to Miranda as the “Mother Superior of the Church of No Fun,” the reporter concluded, “Professor Carpenter lectures from her lab results. There’s a difference between being virtuous and being ice-cold, but this reporter doubts Dr. Carpenter knows the distinction.”
The byline identified a former student, one who’d failed Miranda’s course on the Endocrinology of Sex and Reproduction. Sour grapes aside, the young journalist wrote nothing untrue. But that didn’t mean Miranda wanted her secrets shared with the world. And while she knew her sister, Teri, deserved the brunt of her anger, Dr. Noah Yeager and his ill-timed intrusion weren’t totally free from blame.
His quotes for the article had added just the ammunition the contemptuous reporter needed. Though Noah’s original statements had been suspiciously reduced to one-word sound bites, his descriptors, like “sensible,” “erudite” and “ethereal” adequately fueled the reporter’s unflattering portrait.
And what did he mean by ethereal anyway?
What was she, some wispy, fragile, hothouse flower with little substance and not an ounce of grit?
Ha!
She pushed her glasses up higher on her nose. “What do I know about sex? There’s an answer you’re not likely to find out, Dr. Yeager.” She pressed the cap on her dry erase marker and stepped off the dais. “At least not firsthand.”
A rumbling of “oohs” and reluctant laughter erupted from her students. Some shifted in their theater seats, folding back the tiny desktops and leaning forward expectantly. Others closed their notebooks and pocketed their pens, prepared to witness a battle. Too bad they’d be disappointed. Despite her tart retort, Miranda had no desire to air her grievances in public any more than she wanted the world to know that losing her virginity had not been a mind-shattering experience. Which, thanks to the article, everyone now knew.
“Is there something I can do for you, Dr. Yeager?” Other than face this humiliation in a public forum? “If you simply stopped by to apologize, I accept.”
Noah stepped down into the auditorium, flipping a folded paper into the nearest trash can. Digging his hands into the pockets of khakis that looked like they hadn’t seen an iron since he bought them, he glanced down at his sockless, dock-shoed feet before staring up beneath thick eyelashes to plead his case. “I do apologize for interrupting your class, but not for my part in your nomination. You are a remarkable woman, Dr. Carpenter. Incredible intelligence. Extraordinary compassion.” The corner of his mouth twitched as he fought a smile. “An extraordinary capacity to forgive.”
Miranda crossed her arms over her chest and groaned, though her exasperation soon turned to a reluctant grin. For a grown man obviously prepared to grovel, Noah Yeager walked with the confidence of someone well aware of his charm and completely prepared to use it. His tawny hair—windblown from his ride onto campus in the neon-blue toy he called a sports car—curved and curled around a high forehead, slightly stubbled cheeks and a block-square jaw. His skin caught a pinkish hue that told her he’d either just come in from a tennis match or he was more than a little uncomfortable with his current course of action—despite that bold confrontation was his preferred method of getting his way.
Miranda turned to her textbook and focused on the highlighted passage. If she noted the particular shade of his eyes this morning, gazed too deeply into his lethal baby blues, she might as well dismiss her class now. That one particular shade of turquoise, mixed with his irrepressible humor and innate intelligence, already had her more friendly with him than she had ever, ever planned to be.
Coupled with the fact that he was gorgeous as all get-out and a notorious heartbreaker, Miranda knew when she couldn’t win. She wasn’t afraid of a challenge and didn’t shy from pushing herself academically, but she protected both her heart and her privacy with all the tenacity of a guard dog.
And Dr. Noah Yeager was like a thief in the night.
Luckily, Katie Brown, Miranda’s militantly feminist student in the third row, broke the tense line before Miranda got hooked. “You’re not going to buy that crap, are you, Dr. C.?”
Katie sneered as Noah passed, making her nose ring catch the fluorescent light.
“No, Katie, I’m not,” Miranda said, mentally chiding herself for allowing a personal matter to interfere with her job. “However, if Dr. Yeager would like to rephrase his apology into something lighter on charm and more on fact, I’d be delighted to listen—after class is over.”
Noah glanced at his watch. “My interruption is entirely necessary. Besides, what I said wasn’t a load of crap, as Ms. Brown so crudely phrased it. It’s the truth.”
“Seems the truth isn’t always as liberating as one would hope,” Miranda quipped, though her point was lost in the hiss of the whispers and quiet discussions that ensued around the auditorium.
The double dose of Tylenol she’d taken with her coffee wore off, leaving tiny tentacles of pain to snake around the inside of her eyelids. When she received the letter from the C.I.S.S., she couldn’t decide whether to be flattered or insulted. She couldn’t deny the contest was for a good cause. And her sense of humor, dry though it was, had served her in more humiliating circumstances than a small campus group’s attempt at disseminating information about abstinence to a decidedly reluctant audience. Just as she’d been about to accept the nomination as a good sport, her teaching assistant had burst in with an armful of newspapers, mumbling something about getting her hands on all the issues on campus, when one slipped, headline up, onto Miranda’s desk.
There, in black and white, were her deepest, darkest secrets. And despite that she’d written countless articles for prestigious medical journals, published an award-winning textbook and entertained speaking requests from universities as far away as Stockholm, Miranda Carpenter had been exposed as a fake when it came to knowledge about sex. She might be an expert on the physicality and physiology, but when it came to old-fashioned practical experience, she didn’t have a clue.
She hadn’t had time to figure out why her sister would betray her so thoughtlessly. They weren’t exactly a textbook example of inseparable siblings, but they weren’t Jan and Marsha Brady either. At least, not anymore. She thought they’d put their childish jealousies and petty pranks behind them.
Obviously, she was wrong. But she’d decided to waylay that line of thinking until after she was done with her class.
Right now, realizing that the entire population of the University of Southern Florida now knew about her sexual inexperience was bad enough. Knowing beyond a doubt that Noah Yeager also knew made her stomach hurt.
“Dr. Yeager, I really think we should postpone this discussion until class is over. These students have an exam next week and I’d like to make sure they’re prepared.”
“An exam on sex?” he asked.
“That is the general topic of this course.”
His expression, incredulous as it was, bordered on laughable. Noah Yeager was a scientist of great respect and a beloved professor, but he couldn’t act dumb worth a darn.
“But how can you be an expert on sex? You’re…” He grabbed the newspaper from Katie and made a show of skimming the article.
“Practically A Virgin.” Miranda walked over and tapped the headline with her marker. “It’s hard to miss.”
“Aren’t you embarrassed by that?”
Now she knew his game. Typical Noah. Confront your conflict. Psychologists! They rarely knew when to leave well enough alone.
Of course, “well enough” didn’t exactly describe her this morning. She wasn’t merely embarrassed—she was mortified. Never in her life had her credentials as a scientist been questioned on the basis of her personal life. Not only was she livid that her sister would mount such a sophomoric attack, she resented the paparazzi-like invasion of her solitary life-style. Stepping in front of her class after this morning’s headline was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
She’d thought about retreating. Hiding. Turning her class over to her T.A. and locking herself away in her office until the attention died down. Instead, she’d forced herself to begin her lecture three minutes before the class’s official start time, effectively avoiding any and all questions her students invariably had.
And Noah, being the man he was, wasn’t about to let her get away with such roundabout cowardice.
“Of course,” she admitted. “Who wouldn’t be embarrassed by this article?”
“I don’t know.” He addressed the class. “Is there anyone who read this article who doesn’t think Dr. Carpenter should be embarrassed?”
Katie, of course, was the first to speak up. “Screw the reporter, Dr. C. Your sister Linda-Tripped you. She’s the one who should be red-faced.”
Miranda bestowed her pupil with the most patient expression she could muster. “I’m sure Teri meant well.” She’d better have meant well or I’m going to kill her. “Reporters sometimes put a slant on things that the person being interviewed didn’t necessarily mean.”
Katie’s pencil-thin eyebrows shot up at the same time as Noah’s bushy ones.
“It’s only fair to give her the benefit of the doubt,” Miranda defended. “Besides, I thought bashing reporters was the national pastime.”
“Baseball is the national pastime,” Noah reminded her. “Apparently, coming in a close second is trashing your family in the media.”
“The reporter has a point.” Barely a whisper, the voice from the corner grabbed everyone’s attention. The speaker, a burly football player who rarely contributed to class, shifted in what little space was left between his huge body and the tiny auditorium chair.
“What point? Go back to studying your play book, Bubba,” Katie snapped. “Only a moron would see a point in that tabloid.”
“Name’s not Bubba, Femi-Nazi Chick-in-Black.”
“Sorry, I thought all gridiron goons liked to be called Bubba,” Katie returned.
“And I thought all menhating, nose-ring-wearing—”
Miranda held up her hand. “Hold on, both of you. Open dialogue will not degenerate into insults—not in my class. And since Dr. Yeager so graciously opened this up for debate, I think I’d like to hear what Mr….”
“O’Connell. Liam O’Connell.”
“…what Mr. O’Connell has to say. Although, in exchange for your input on this topic, I’d like to see you chime in on actual course discussion next class, as well. Deal?”
Liam grinned sheepishly. “Yes, ma’am.”
When he remained quiet, Miranda leaned back on her desk and let her arms drop to her sides. She really did want to hear his opinion, though she was nearly certain she already knew what it was.
“Go ahead, Liam.”
His thick-fingered hands shook as he gripped the article. “You’re always talking about using common sense to outwit chemical reactions. About thinking beyond our hormones.”
“Yes, I am. It’s not an easy task, but it can be done.”
“But you haven’t done it. Not really. You just…avoid the chemicals.”
A clichéd argument sprang to mind. Without a more convincing rebuttal, Miranda gave it a shot. “One doesn’t have to snort cocaine to know how dangerous it is. Or be an alcoholic to talk about the detrimental effects of binge drinking. You hear about that during this course as well.”
Liam frowned. “This is different. I mean, when you’re with someone you really, really like, you can be smart and not do anything to hurt anyone, or yourself. Condoms and birth control. But you preach abstinence.”
Noah grabbed that moment to slip into an empty chair in the front row. Nearly a head taller than most of the coeds, he slid down low in the seat, stretching his lean, long legs to the center dais and crossing his ankles over the bottom step. Talking about abstinence in such close proximity to the sexiest man she’d ever met forced Miranda to draw on every professional bone in her body.
Still, she’d best keep this discussion short.
“Abstinence is the safest sex.”
“No, it’s no sex,” Liam countered. “And that’s an easy decision to make when you don’t date. You don’t know how tough it is. You don’t know.”
Miranda nodded, unable to respond. What could she say? Liam, in all his understated eloquence, was right.
She didn’t know. She’d allowed herself one opportunity to experience the freedom of sensual discovery—and when that experiment failed miserably, she decided she’d gotten what she deserved for being so irresponsible. Better to concentrate on her studies and her career. She’d planned to waylay personal relationships only until after college, but watching her sister make mess after mess of her own life convinced Miranda that men weren’t worth the trouble. They lied. They cheated. They could break a woman’s spirit with no less than an unmade phone call and no more than an ill-chosen word.
So she taught abstinence and preached self-reliance. Even forged a reputation for herself as a mix between Dr. Laura and Dr. Ruth. So much so that a local radio network had called her literary agent to inquire about putting Miranda on the air. But until the details of that pipe dream were worked out, she had a classroom crowded with young minds ready, willing and able to challenge her authority and knowledge. How could she convince them, with her own mind overloading with doubt?
Abstinence? With men like Noah Yeager prowling the universe?
Impossible.
And yet, she’d found a way to resist Noah’s powerful sex appeal over the past three years, though realistically, he’d resisted her right back—and seemingly, with much less effort.
“Liam, right?” Noah jumped in from his silent spot on the sidelines. Miranda almost stopped his interruption, then realized he owed her. He wasn’t responsible for the article or her initial nomination, but he was completely at fault for making her face her turmoil in front of her students. The least he could do was cover for her until she came up with a reasonable counter for Liam’s argument.
“Yes, sir, Dr. Yeager.”
“Have you taken any psychology classes?”
“No, sir. Sex and Repro finishes my science credit.”
A nervous twitter rippled through the room. The title of her course alone resulted in her full classes and waiting list. When the department titled the course Reproductive Studies, barely ten people enrolled. Adding the word sex lured them in in droves.
“You should consider an elective then. I have a study I’m hoping to do soon—” he shot Miranda a hopeful look “—that will gauge the psychological effects of sexual relations, after the physical act. Sound interesting?”
Liam shrugged. “I guess. What does that have to do with Professor Carpenter?”
“You referred to the difficulty of combating those hormones when you’re out with someone you have a strong attraction to. Dr. Carpenter is well aware of the long-lasting psychological effects of intimate involvement, so she’s found an effective means to avoid it—until the right man comes along.”
Miranda caught Noah’s furtive glance. Until the right man comes along? He didn’t mean him, did he?
“That’s not realistic,” Liam insisted, shaking his head and demanding Miranda’s attention. “You don’t find the right guy by locking yourself up in the library.”
“Depends on what you’re doing in the library,” Katie added, eliciting chuckles from the entire back row.
“Okay,” Miranda broke in, “I think this conversation has strayed far enough. I’m all for a ‘teachable’ moment, but I’ve had my fill of other people discussing my personal choices about my private life. Class dismissed.”
A few students shot out of their chairs before Miranda changed her mind. The majority lingered, shocked that she’d let them out a single second before eleven o’clock.
“What about the contest?” Katie asked. “Isn’t that all about your choices? Not that I’d blame you for pulling out.”
Katie threw out the last comment with less candor than usual. Or at least, with less tenacity. She would “blame” Miranda for withdrawing from the contest, the action she had planned to take immediately after class. Her students, even the supportive ones like Katie—and in his own way, Liam—now had ample reason to question her authority on the subject of sex.
Thanks to the reporter, they now viewed her as nothing more than a mouthpiece for a textbook. She had no personal knowledge to draw on, no emotional investment in her subject. Her course was about to become dry facts and heartless lab results, no matter how much she loved her job.
And she certainly wouldn’t make much of a difference that way. The contest would give her a forum to make her views, however conservative, much more clear. And since the competition involved a “public” date, she could also show her students that she was capable of enjoying interpersonal interaction without carelessly falling into bed.
“You won’t pull out, will you, Miranda?”
Noah hadn’t moved from his seat, and yet his deep-throated whisper, made painfully intimate by his use of her first name in a place where such familiarity was distinctly taboo, teased the edges of her hearing.
“I haven’t decided,” she answered, her voice uncontrollably quiet.
“I could help you decide,” he offered.
Spoken in a devilish tone, his innocent words curled along the base of her neck.
Instantly, her inherent skepticism jumped to the rescue. “I’ll just bet you could.”
The remaining students quieted. Liam’s dumbfounded expression mirrored the faces of nearly every student in the room. Had one professor just come on to another professor in front of God and everyone?
Miranda smiled ruefully. She knew exactly what Noah was up to, and breaking professional protocol wasn’t his aim.
“What Dr. Yeager is proposing is that he provide the one element Liam seems to think is missing from my life—real temptation.”
NOAH GRINNED, savoring his attempt to manipulate someone who was completely aware of his design. Unlike other women he’d sparred with, Miranda was his equal in all areas except one. If the newspaper article contained any truth at all, she was more emotionally dangerous than even Sarah, his Glenn-Close-in-Fatal-Attraction ex-girlfriend. While Sarah simply had a love-hate relationship with reality, Miranda believed in happily-ever-afters. Soul mates. Perhaps those walls she erected around herself shouldn’t be earmarked for demolition. The rubble could end up crushing him.
He’d have to take that chance. Though he could definitely fall for her in a big way, his growing fascination with Miranda Carpenter had already skewed his better judgment. Unless he took a proactive stance and explored this attraction completely, but cautiously—he could find himself in more trouble than even a woman-scorned could cause.
“Temptation?” Noah stood, straightened his slacks and stepped forward, attempting to ignore the full auditorium of coeds behind him. “I’ve never been called that before.”
“Ha!”
Miranda dropped her staid veneer with a single syllable, making Noah wonder how sturdy that facade was after all.
“If even an iota of your reputation is accurate,” she said in a voice meant only for him, “I seriously doubt there isn’t a name you haven’t been called.”
He nodded and frowned, yet again conceding her point.
“Not all of the names I’ve been called have been negative.” He matched her whisper with his own, then raised his voice for the benefit of her students’ straining ears. “Nonetheless, Professor, as the article stated, I seconded your nomination and, effectively, got you into this mess. The least I can do is help prove to your students that you can stick to your values, even when in the company of a guy like me.”
“Like you?” She pushed her glasses back, ever so slightly enlarging the size and shape of her incredibly lavender eyes. “What kind of guy is that?”
Katie ticked the words off like a practiced recitation. “Arrogant, womanizing, conceited, gullible…”
“Katie,” Miranda chided.
“No, she’s right—about the gullible part anyway. The nomination was never meant as a put down. The C.I.S.S. group really does admire you. And if we’re looking for silver linings, the controversy over the interview will stir some interest in the cause.”
Miranda watched as her students flipped the pages of the newspaper away from her article to the in-depth coverage of Sexual Awareness Week. Thanks to Noah’s invasion, and Liam’s observation that undoubtedly reflected the thoughts of her other students, at least those that hadn’t deserted, today’s lecture was over for good.
Yet, as Noah said, interest had been stirred.
Glancing at her watch, she realized she’d only relinquished twenty minutes of the lecture. She dismissed the class once again, promising a more focused discussion on Wednesday.
“Hang tough, Dr. C.,” Katie said as she pushed her books into the leather-and-studs knapsack that coordinated nicely with her similarly styled jeans and layered black-on-black tank tops. “That reporter probably just has the hots for you himself.”
Miranda’s skin crawled. “Katie, please. That does nothing to alleviate my horror.”
Laughing, Katie bounded up the steps out of the room to catch up with Liam, leaving Noah to slide back into a flip-down chair in the front row.
Miranda glanced around the deserted classroom. The space was cavernous, somewhat outdated and painfully impersonal. But private? Intimate? Miranda wouldn’t have thought so until this very moment. The echoes of the retreating students disappeared with the soft click of the closing door. So did her sense of safety. Knowing no other class met here until after lunch, Miranda squashed the irrational panic that she and Noah would be discovered—here, alone—doing nothing more than carrying on a conversation.
She stacked her books together, deliberately turning her back on Noah. “If you’re done forcing me to face my most humiliating moment, you’re free to go. Forgive me if I don’t thank you.”
“Don’t you feel a little better, getting it all out in the open?”
“I would have preferred to deal with this mess my own way.”
“Which would have been to remain silent and let your reputation speak for itself.”
Miranda slapped her file folders together and shoved them into her attaché, exasperated both by his insistence on invading her privacy and by the way she felt suddenly crowded in a very large, very empty room. “You don’t think my reputation could have withstood that attack?”
He opened his mouth, then stopped to think. Miranda waited, her foot tapping.
“No. And neither do you.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Miranda heard her biting sarcasm and cringed. She liked Noah, she really did. She’d even let herself believe that they were friends—in the ways that colleagues can be. They spoke in the faculty lounge, shared research materials and even cowrote an article last semester—a feat accomplished almost entirely by e-mail even though their offices were only two floors apart. But always, Miranda remained at arm’s length—no matter how hard she found it not to surrender to the fantasies Noah evoked with no more than a friendly “good morning.” Like now.
From the moment the dean introduced them, Noah enkindled sparks of sexual awareness that even Miranda’s extensive knowledge of pheromones and other hormonal influences could neither explain nor counteract.
But Miranda was no swooning coed. She knew better than to risk her heart on a man with Noah’s reputation and devotion to a commitment-free life-style. While she was certain that sex with him would more than make up for the disappointment in her past, she wasn’t about to become a notch on his bedpost. Self-respect and confidence led her to her successes. An affair with the likes of Noah Yeager could only bring heartache and despair—once the ecstasy wore off.
So long as she didn’t become one of his conquests, how he conducted his personal life was none of her business. Their interactions were professionally friendly, and would remain so—as long as he stopped talking about temptation.
“So, are we on or what?” Noah sprang up from his seat with all the alacrity of a man who wouldn’t hesitate at jumping over a net after winning a match.
“On? What are you talking about?”
“The date? I just happen to have this swanky event I have to go to this Friday night. It’ll be perfect.”
Her? Noah? In evening wear? Drinking wine and sharing small talk and generally learning more about each other? What if the reporter sensed the attraction she and Noah so carefully ignored? What if Noah’s boundless charm enticed her to drop her guard—even for a moment—under the watchful eyes of the press?
She turned back to her briefcase.
“Noah, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
His groan was childlike. His hands, suddenly on her shoulders, were not. “Come on, Carpenter. This is perfect timing. I’ve applied for a grant with the Henson Foundation, and Mrs. Henson adores your work. She’s announcing her decision on the Henson Grant at the reception Friday. You could be my ace in the hole. I need you.”
The massage he gave her mimicked a coach’s confidence-injecting rubdown, yet the warmth of his hands and strength of his fingers inspired images of bare flesh and hot oils. Miranda called on all her self-control to keep from overreacting and pulling away. Or worse—turning around and kissing him.
“Need me?” She forced steadiness into her voice. “You could get a date in a roomful of nuns, Dr. Yeager.”
“Ah, but would the good sisters be as intelligent as you? As entertaining as you? And the big question…” He dropped his palms down her arms, igniting the silk of her sleeve with a gentle friction. “Would they look as alluring in evening wear?”
She took the opportunity to slip her briefcase off the desk and step away. “Black seems to suit most of them. And you’ve never seen me in evening wear.”
“I have. The alumni anniversary shindig last semester. Want me to tell you what you were wearing?”
No. She didn’t even want to consider the possibility that he’d noted her apparel that closely, though from the lusty look in his eyes when she turned, he clearly recalled the fitted, beaded burgundy sheath her sister had convinced her to wear.
“I know what I was wearing, thanks.” Miranda headed toward the steps, hoping to reach the sanctuary of her office before Noah changed her mind. She’d barely taken the second step when he snatched her briefcase and jogged ahead to open the door.
Chivalry? How was she going to combat chivalry?
“Consider this a chance to kill two birds with one stone,” Noah reasoned. “Actually, three birds. You help me win my grant, I help you win your contest and at the same time, we learn a little more about each other.”
She reached the doorway, thankful the hall bustled with students. None spared them even a glance, but she still felt safer with Noah in a crowd. “I’m not sure I’m going through with the contest. I don’t enjoy the spotlight the way Teri does. And contrary to my sister’s negative appraisal of my life, I like it the way it is. No pressure. No entanglements.”
Noah grinned, teeth and all. Miranda sighed in surrender.
“No entanglements,” Noah promised. “Just my style.”
That was what scared her the most.