Cammie Healy (Mitchell/ Healy #8) Read online

  Copying this title is a crime.

  Don’t be a thief

  A Mitchell-Healy Book #9

  Copyright © 2016 Jennifer Foor

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Art: Wicked Cool Designs

  This book is a written act of fiction. Any places, characters, or similarities are purely coincidence. If certain places or characters are referenced it is for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This book is not allowed to be offered for sale, discounted, or free on any sites by anyone other than JENNIFER FOOR. To reiterate: This book may ONLY be distributed by Jennifer Foor, the owner and Author of this series.

  DOWNLOADING EPUB COPIES IS A FRADULENT ACT.

  MITCHELL-HEALY SERIES FAMILY TREE

  LOCATED IN THE BACK OF THIS BOOK

  Chapter 1

  Silently waiting, my hands folded across my lap, the sound of my peers conversing throughout the room behind me. I’d been sitting in the first row of this classroom for a while, ever since I’d sparked a more physical interest in my professor.

  The sound of the side entrance alerted me of his presence. Right away I felt my stomach knotting up, my throat feeling tight, and my fingers shaking beyond control.

  I could feel the air blowing between my legs since I was in a skirt. He’d expect my exposed pussy positioned for his viewing pleasure. James would arrange for this to happen, and like his little toy I’d always abided to his wishes.

  This was what he’d done to me each and every time we were close. He took control.

  It wasn’t just his sexy appearance, the dark wavy hair, or the way he wore it, sort of disheveled like most guys my age. Even with his charming smile, and bright white teeth, I knew his looks weren’t what drew me in back then. Sure, he was a stunning specimen to look at, in fact the only older man I’d ever had an interest in, but it was his intelligence that made me lose all ability to rationalize with how wrong it was to be involved with him. He carried himself like he knew he could get whatever he wanted in life. Maybe he was right. I think he had me in the palm of his hand the moment we met.

  He was married, for more than twenty years, to a woman of high stature. Her father was the dean of the university. Our taboo indiscretion would surely cost him his livelihood, not that it stopped either one of us from continuing the affair.

  I wanted to feel terrible for my actions, but how could I, when the man brought me so much excitement. I was enthralled by his lifestyle, and his ability to help me see my goals and do whatever necessary to achieve them.

  Jameson Willis. My professor. My mentor. My weakness. My kryptonite.

  Before I tell you how screwed up my life has become, I suppose it would make sense to go back to where it all began, to where my struggles caused such drastic measures to come into play. You see, I wasn’t always promiscuous. To everyone who knows me, I’m sort of predictable, always safe even. I thought about my actions before making them, going over every single outcome in my head in order to come up with the best solutions. I’m an overachiever, determined to be the best, no matter how difficult the feat may be. I never give up, which is probably why I’ve landed myself in such trouble.

  I think it started when I took my midterm. I’m pre-med, and my schedule combined with such complicated courses left me struggling. I stared down at that test for nearly thirty minutes without putting my pen down. I couldn’t, for the life of me, come to terms with everything I’d studied and crammed into my brain the night before. It was as if I’d forgotten everything. Equations and formalities began circling, but the answers failed to process.

  After the first hour I knew I was behind. With a time limit counting down, I fought with jotting something for each question, even when I knew it wasn’t the correct answer or nearly what would give me the grade I hoped for.

  Ever since elementary school I’d gotten straight A’s. I was valedictorian of my graduating class, and had even managed to keep a four-point-one grade point average throughout my first few years of college. I didn’t understand how, like a switch, I couldn’t process thoroughly. I was disgusted with myself, succumbing to the fact that I might be over my head, cramming extra courses in order to finish early.

  I was called into my professor’s office a few days later. At this point, I barely knew anything about the man who led the course. He wore a gold ring on his finger, and often spoke about his own grown children while giving lectures. He had a good sense of humor, and everyone in the class seemed to like him. Don’t get me wrong, I noticed the handsome man from afar, having taken a seat in the back of the room, just so I could exit first and make it to my next destination without being late. It was important to always be prompt and prepared, and in this instance I needed to keep a good distance between the two of us.

  While I sat down on the opposite side of his desk, avoiding eye contact with the man who was obviously disappointed in me, I waited for him to begin.

  “Miss Healy, I’ve asked you to stop by today so we could discuss this catastrophe of a midterm. I wouldn’t normally address it so soon, but I’ve become aware of your workload, and feel obligated to give you a little leeway regarding a retest.” He slid the test over as he finished.

  Red.

  It was all I could see scribbled over each page as I peeked at them. “I swear I studied. I don’t know what happened. It was like my mind went blank. I can assure you it was a lapse of judgment.”

  “I don’t doubt your capabilities, Miss Healy. You think I don’t pay attention to students, that each and every one of them are just fillers for my classroom. I know more than you think.“ He stood and began walking around his office with his hands tucked behind his back. His confidence left me vulnerable. He was comfortable, secure, and I think he knew he wasn’t bad to look at.

  While I tried not to make eye contact, my gaze scanned him whenever his back turned to me. He had buns of steel, tight and perfectly presentable in his dark-washed trousers. With his suit jacket removed, the arms of his button down were tight, displaying muscles I didn’t want to be aware existed.

  Maybe it had been too long for me. I hadn’t been involved with anyone in two years, which left me vulnerable and horny. My roommate took it upon herself to remind me what I was missing out on whenever she got the chance. This was a true revelation to those times.

  His voice was low and sexy as he spoke, echoing off the walls in the classroom. “I know you’ve come a long way to attend this university, and before this semester you’ve been on the dean’s list. I don’t usually offer my assistance to many students, but you have potential. I know you want to be a doctor. I’ve seen your entrance video. You’re a natural go-getter, so the fact that you’re struggling is causing me to make an exception.”

  “I’m not asking for special treatment, Professor Willis. If I have to retake the course, I certainly will. I’ve put too much on my plate I suppose. I thought I could handle the extra assignments, but I’m a bit overwhelmed.”

  “Is that what you want, to retake the course? I’m sure you have better things to do than sit in my classroom for another long semester. As much as I’d like to think I’m entertaining, I can’t be that interesting, especially regarding the topics we discuss.”

  I ran my shaking hands over my face, promising to do whatever necessary to get me out of this situation. I didn’t mean to start crying, though it was impossible to avoid. “I’m sorry,” I managed to say. “I’m not usually this over-emotional
. I’ve never failed at something before; this being so important to me. I can’t handle it.”

  I heard his chair creak as he adjusted in his seat. I assumed it was because he felt annoyed I was throwing out the tears for sympathy. In his career this probably happened more often than not, though my concern was completely genuine.

  “I need you to calm down, Miss Healy. You’re not going to retake my class. Perhaps if you were one of those students abusing freedom and partying it up every night I’d feel differently, but you’re not one of those people. You’re here to learn.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it very much, but might I ask how you know what I do while I’m not in your class?” I didn’t know what else to say. Surely he had more students than he could keep track of. It would be absurd to assume he’d know each one of us. The fact that he knew about me was sort of disturbing.

  His right eyebrow lifted for a moment as if he were studying me. “It’s my business to know my most promising students. I wouldn’t want you making decisions that could hurt your resume later on.”

  I almost wanted to giggle. Did he think he’d be able to stop me from making an ass out of myself? Could he control anyone? Was he that almighty where he had powers to change the minds of curious young adults? I highly doubted the probability.

  I didn’t dare question the statement, nor did I consider he might have a special interest in me. I was like every academically driven student he’d had before.

  Suddenly, the subject was changed. “What would you say to some extra credit? Of course, I’ll let you retake the exam, because I’ve got a feeling you can pass it with your eyes closed.”

  I practically cut him off mid-sentence. “I’ll do whatever I have to. I’ll write essays, I’ll do research projects. Anything.”

  He snickered to himself, finally leaning back in his leather office chair. “We can start with the test. Meet me here Friday night at seven. That will give you time to get your head straight.”

  I dried my eyes and managed a smile. “That would be great. Thank you again. I’ll be here.”

  “Go on now. I’m sure you have somewhere else to be.”

  I gathered my things and hurried out of his office to get to my other class as promptly as I was able. During my walk I thought about the professor and how generous he’d been. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that he knew personal details about my schedule and life, but assumed it was how a good teacher should be with his students.

  He’d mentioned me as being promising. Maybe I’d been put on some list by the dean. Whatever the case, I didn’t want to disappoint.

  Later in the day I arrived back at my dorm room hell-bent on going over the entire syllabus for my course thus far in order to ace my retest. In the back of my mind I felt annoyed with myself. I’d never gotten this overwhelmed and scatterbrained. Low and behold, my roommate, Jasmine Conner, bless her heart, was in the middle of a heated discussion with her boyfriend. It was so intense not even my headphones could block it out. I did my best to gather my things without distracting them and leave before I was somehow involved in the conversation. I hated when they asked me to pick sides. In the three and a half years I’d attended, Jasmine and I had spent a total of one week doing things together. Once she met friends with similar interests I was kicked to the curb, not that I minded. That one week I spent with her gave me the college experience in full, and I never wanted to go down that road again, or drink another energy beverage mixed with vodka. The sight of those things still makes me dry heave.

  Jasmine, a beautiful bi-racial grad student, had been dating the same guy for the past six months. They fought just so they could have make-up sex. They were predictable, more like a ticking time bomb you wanted to steer clear of.

  On nice days like this one, I preferred to pick a spot under a shaded tree where I could be comfortable for maximum studying. Unfortunately, there was a celebration going on across the field, causing a lot of traffic. The distractions weren’t going to allow me to concentrate the way I needed to. Even though I was fully aware the entire test was already crammed into my overworked brain, I was determined to go over every single topic on the syllabus.

  Lucky for me, I’d asked for high tech headphones to block out any unwanted distractions.

  Nearly an hour later, I’d gotten through a few chapters, fighting my inability to stay focused when so much was going on around me. Up until someone shadowed me from the bright sun, I was determined, but this person was about to change everything, and I’m not just talking about a quaint study location.

  Chapter 2

  Just when I thought I had everything under control, I heard his voice.

  “Miss Healy, I see you’ve found an interesting place to spend your weekend.” Professor Willis mentioned. He was wearing a warm-up suit with a bottle of water gripped in one hand. His knuckles were tight, revealing his gold-toned wedding ring on his left finger. When I lifted my hand to deflect the sun coming up over his shoulder, I noticed how disheveled his hair had become. Lines of sweat were traced down either side of his cheeks. He’d obviously been running or something that required him to perspire more than usual.

  I smiled, offering a subtle answer. “It beats my dorm room, which is currently occupied by more than one person.”

  He smirked. “Have you tried the library?”

  I rolled my eyes. “One would think I’d love those kind of places, but contrary to stereotypes, I hate them. I don’t like hearing other people coughing, sniffling, or even pages turning from other books besides mine. There are too many distractions in one small area. I prefer either complete silence or being outside where nature surrounds me.”

  His cackle seemed like my comment amused him. “What if I told you I had a perfect place for you to be able to focus? Would you be interested?”

  I shrugged, scanning our perimeter like other options would suddenly emerge out of thin air. “Sure.”

  He motioned for me to come with him by shifting his shoulder in another direction. “Follow me.” While I attempted to stand, he reached out his hand to offer me assistance. I didn’t think anything of it. I mean, we were in public, and he was only offering a kind gesture.

  The old brick faculty building was off-limits to students on weekends. Even when it was open, you’d need a key or code to get inside any of the offices. I followed behind Professor Willis until we came to the door with his name on it. He punched in a few numbers and the sound of a latch was all I heard before he pushed it ajar. He turned right, extended his reach and switched on the lights. At the far end of the rectangular shaped room was a large desk with a sofa table behind it. Above on the wall were several credentials including his degrees. The entire left part of the room were floor to ceiling bookcases, and on the right was a long leather sofa. It had a dark colored throw and a few toss pillows arranged in an orderly fashion atop. I took a few steps in the room before asking, “Are we stopping by here first?”

  He sat his water down on his mahogany desk and leaned on it, crossing his arms as he replied. “No. This is where you’re going to study. You said you were interested in helping me, so why not take advantage of the quiet atmosphere? Even when I’m in my office, I won’t be a distraction. You can take the couch. The side table lifts to hold a laptop, and feel free to help yourself to the mini-fridge I keep in the closet. Don’t get too excited, it usually has a few bottles of water, and sometimes on rare occasions, leftovers from takeout. My wife is into shakes, so I have to sneak real food whenever I get the chance.”

  I snickered, imagining him sucking down a green breakfast beverage and gagging. “I don’t blame you. I’m a country girl who likes her red meat. If I couldn’t have a steak once a week there would be a big problem on campus.”

  He must have liked what I said, because he broke into a laughing fit, finally stopping to motion for me to sit. “Make yourself at home, Miss Healy. I have a few papers to grade and then I’ll be out of you hair.”

  “You’re leaving me he
re? Is that allowed?”

  “As long as you have an authorized pass, you can come and go as you please.” He reached in his desk drawer and pulled out a laminated card on a lanyard. “You have to keep this on you at all times for security purposes. I’ll add you to the list under my account. If anyone gives you problems you tell them you’re assisting me. The dean and I go way back, so you shouldn’t run into any snags.”

  “I appreciate this,” I said while watching him bring the item to me. I placed it around my neck and glanced down at it.

  “I’ll have one printed with your name on it. It will take a couple of weeks. The administration isn’t very quick about requests.”

  “I won’t take advantage of your generosity. When we go to retake the test, I’ll be ready.”

  “I’m not concerned regarding your ability to ace my exam. You’re one of the smartest students I’ve had the pleasure of teaching.”

  I was flattered by his assumption, though I didn’t feel like I deserved the praise. My cheeks began to flush so I looked away, unable to admit he’d gotten to me. “Thank you. I’ve worked extremely hard to get this far.”

  “Ditto.” When I turned to search his face for an expression I found amusement. “Sometimes the things we want in life aren’t at all what we first assumed.”

  His cryptic comment left me wondering what he meant, though I kept my curiosity at bay. “I better get back to my studies. I’m sure you don’t want to spend your whole day in here with me. You must have better things to do.”

  “You’d be surprised,” he affirmed. “Some of us don’t have a choice what comes next. Once you get my age, you’ll know what I mean. There is no going back, Miss Healy. Remember that. It will keep you motivated.”

  “I will.” He sat down at his desk and started shuffling papers around.

  For the next hour I sat on the sofa reading with headphones on. Professor Willis finished up his work and waved before exiting the office, leaving me all alone. I kept at my studies, until curiosity got the best of me. Now, I was no sloth. In fact, there wasn’t a sneaky bone in my body, but I wanted to know more about the man who was giving me a second chance.