disliked the cronyism and pandering necessary for being part of college-level faculty, he loved teaching and his chosen field of study. It gave him a great deal of pleasure to engage and challenge his students, to expand their worldviews and their attitudes while exposing them to other social constructs and points of view. He thought he was making a difference in his own small way, but if the dean and president didnât think so, he had to consider other options.
He made his way to his car and put Herscher in his rearview, his mind whirling with possibilities. He could quit teaching altogether and go full-time as a consultant, hiring his skills and expertise out to law enforcement on a local and federal level. It was important work but some of the cases heâd worked on took their toll, leaving him mentally and emotionally drained and unfit for company. Being exposed to the ugly side of sexual deviancy wasnât something he enjoyed no matter how necessary it was, and he admired the men and women in law enforcement who saw it as their daily duty. If things went south at Herscher, heâd have to consider it.
He could also write full-time. With three nonfiction works to his name and the seeds to a fictional crime series sketched out, it was a definite possibility. He also had a decent nest egg that would enable him to take the time to do it right. The thought of leaving the college didnât sit well with him, though. He enjoyed the school, the students, and the eclectic little town that surrounded them. He didnât want to leave it.
Yet if he gave any credence to Marshall, and he had no reason not to, his only option for staying and gaining tenure was to make the traditionalists happy and his students miserable by becoming very obviously and publicly off-limits.
Nadiaâs beautiful face surfaced in his thoughts. He rejected the idea before it could form. There was no way in hell heâd marry Nadia, or anyone else for that matter, just to stay on at the college. Sheâd laugh him out of the café for even broaching the subject,
after
she kicked him in the gonads.
A few miles north of the college, he turned his car onto Bay View Terrace. The sun had begun its downward slant into the bay in a spectacular show of color that had given the town its name. His spacious condo had a commanding view of the bay, and he wondered what it would be like to have Nadia standing on the balcony wrapped in nothing but the light of the setting sun like a fire goddess.
Nadia. Just thinking about her lightened his mood and made him hard. She consumed his thoughts, fractured his concentration, occupied his mind, and filled his memory, taking up permanent residence in his psyche. Their night had more than lived up to his expectations. The pic sheâd sent of her with the flowers was now the unlocked background on his phone. He knew he was acting like a horny teen with his first crush, but after one explosive night, he was hooked and ready for more.
Heâd already thought of her as sexy and sweet. Heâd had a couple of weeks of watching her interact with customers, employees, and friends. Her sarcastic wit, ready laugh, and obvious compassion had won him over just as surely as her sticky buns had.
After parking, he quickly made his way up to his condo. Marshallâs lecture had put him behind schedule. He didnât know the ins and outs of running a bakery, but he figured Nadia had to get up early, way before sunrise. The last thing he wanted to do was inconvenience her or make her think she couldnât fit him into her life.
He rushed through a shower, then pulled on loose-fitting gray trousers and a black sweater. Before heading out, he stopped in his office, the three-dimensional representation of his brain, the room he retired to in order to write, to think, to dive deep into the criminal mind to create psychological profiles. He grinned as he spotted his copies of
The Perfumed Garden
, the early
He made his way to his car and put Herscher in his rearview, his mind whirling with possibilities. He could quit teaching altogether and go full-time as a consultant, hiring his skills and expertise out to law enforcement on a local and federal level. It was important work but some of the cases heâd worked on took their toll, leaving him mentally and emotionally drained and unfit for company. Being exposed to the ugly side of sexual deviancy wasnât something he enjoyed no matter how necessary it was, and he admired the men and women in law enforcement who saw it as their daily duty. If things went south at Herscher, heâd have to consider it.
He could also write full-time. With three nonfiction works to his name and the seeds to a fictional crime series sketched out, it was a definite possibility. He also had a decent nest egg that would enable him to take the time to do it right. The thought of leaving the college didnât sit well with him, though. He enjoyed the school, the students, and the eclectic little town that surrounded them. He didnât want to leave it.
Yet if he gave any credence to Marshall, and he had no reason not to, his only option for staying and gaining tenure was to make the traditionalists happy and his students miserable by becoming very obviously and publicly off-limits.
Nadiaâs beautiful face surfaced in his thoughts. He rejected the idea before it could form. There was no way in hell heâd marry Nadia, or anyone else for that matter, just to stay on at the college. Sheâd laugh him out of the café for even broaching the subject,
after
she kicked him in the gonads.
A few miles north of the college, he turned his car onto Bay View Terrace. The sun had begun its downward slant into the bay in a spectacular show of color that had given the town its name. His spacious condo had a commanding view of the bay, and he wondered what it would be like to have Nadia standing on the balcony wrapped in nothing but the light of the setting sun like a fire goddess.
Nadia. Just thinking about her lightened his mood and made him hard. She consumed his thoughts, fractured his concentration, occupied his mind, and filled his memory, taking up permanent residence in his psyche. Their night had more than lived up to his expectations. The pic sheâd sent of her with the flowers was now the unlocked background on his phone. He knew he was acting like a horny teen with his first crush, but after one explosive night, he was hooked and ready for more.
Heâd already thought of her as sexy and sweet. Heâd had a couple of weeks of watching her interact with customers, employees, and friends. Her sarcastic wit, ready laugh, and obvious compassion had won him over just as surely as her sticky buns had.
After parking, he quickly made his way up to his condo. Marshallâs lecture had put him behind schedule. He didnât know the ins and outs of running a bakery, but he figured Nadia had to get up early, way before sunrise. The last thing he wanted to do was inconvenience her or make her think she couldnât fit him into her life.
He rushed through a shower, then pulled on loose-fitting gray trousers and a black sweater. Before heading out, he stopped in his office, the three-dimensional representation of his brain, the room he retired to in order to write, to think, to dive deep into the criminal mind to create psychological profiles. He grinned as he spotted his copies of
The Perfumed Garden
, the early
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