When I’d expressed my desire to substitute for Dr. Bailey here at Boles, my own employer had been happy to give me a six-month sabbatical. More than enough time, in theory.
I hadn’t accounted for Tristian Ives being such a tough nut to crack, though. Nor had I accounted for my intel on Dr. Bailey being inaccurate enough to waste my time for a month.
Across the next three hours, I made sure to make my TA understand that I wasn’t just a creeper who wanted to get into her pants. I mean, I sure as fuck wouldn’t say no, and ultimately that would make my plan work so much easier, but that wasn’t my number one objective. Right now, as far as she was concerned—while I called on her to answer a question for the dozenth time—I was simply here to teach.
As the class drew to a close, Tristian looked like she was preparing to run. That simply wouldn’t do, at all. I needed to gloat and really rub it in that she was now stuck with me.
“Miss Ives,” I practically purred, offering her a lopsided grin, “stay behind.”
She pursed her lips and folded her legs, staying in her seat as the rest of the students filed out of the lecture hall. I was content to wait it out, so I just leaned against the lectern with my eyes locked on hers as several hundred students casually wandered past, in no hurry to get anywhere.
Her dark lashes framed her ice-blue eyes like prickles, and I had no doubt she’d plotted my death a thousand different ways since I stole her class out from under her. Maybe it spoke to my emotional damage, but that thought turned me on.
After the last student left, a heavy silence fell across the empty space. Tristian stared at me, waiting. I liked being the center of her attention, so I just stared back. I was in no hurry to be anywhere, but based on her schedule last week, I was pretty sure she was.
Sure enough, her patience ran out long before mine.
“You probably could have mentioned this sooner, Professor Smith,” she snapped, her tone clipped. It was like she couldn’t decide if she should be embarrassed or furious and had settled on both. It was cute.
I inclined my head, tucking my hands into my pockets. Her gaze darted down ever so quickly, but I caught it. She totally just checked out my bulge.
“Yes, I could have,” I agreed. “But where’s the fun in that?”
Her dark lashes narrowed around her eyes, turning them to slits of fury. “I didn’t realize we were having fun.”
I smirked. “Sure you did. So, do you have plans this evening?”
Her perfect lips parted in disbelief. “You’re still asking me out? That has to be against the rules. You’re a professor, and—”
I gave a fake gasp. “I am? Oh wait, I knew that. It’s why I just taught this class.” My smile was pure sarcasm. “Unless I’m mistaken, Tristian, I believe I am also your student advisor in Dr. Bailey’s absence. So, let’s try that again. Do you have plans this evening?”
Her teeth ground together so hard I could hear it. “Actually, I do.” She inhaled sharply, then pulled a notebook from her bag. Quickly, she scribbled down some information then ripped out the page. Standing up, she looped her bag over her shoulder and held out the paper to me. “These are the times Dr. Bailey and I used to meet in an advisory capacity.”
I took the paper from her, noting the neat, flowing cursive of her handwriting. Pretty and old-fashioned. I half expected to find them all at boring times, during the day, but they were all late nights or painfully early mornings.
“I see,” I murmured. “I can work with this.”
“Good,” she huffed. “We can meet in the campus library, and—”
I laughed, cutting her off. “No. You want to do academic work before the sun is even up? You can damn well come to me.” I took the pen out of her hand and scribbled my address and phone number on the bottom of the page, then tore it off to hand back. “I’ll expect a phone call if you can’t make it on time, Tristian.”
Her answering smile was tight and cold. “Of course.”
She started stalking out the door, and I took a moment to check out her ass in the charcoal gray pants she was wearing. I liked how she dressed for classes, like some kind of sexy secretary.
“What are they?” I called after her, not wanting to let her leave just yet.
She paused, spinning to face me. “What are what?”
I tipped my head to the side. “Your plans tonight. Another hot date with Golf-Pro Greg?”
Her lips creased in a smile before she could catch it. “His name was Chad, not Greg.”
I grinned wider. “Seriously?”
Tristian rolled her eyes and turned to leave once more. “None of your business, Professor Smith. Enjoy your afternoon.”
The door slammed hard after her, and I gave it to the count of thirty before I followed. She was in a hurry to get to her other job, and I was almost certain that had to be working for the Grimaldi family. Over the past few months, my information network had learned that several paintings the Grimaldis had procured were in need of restoration.
Everything had pointed to Dr. Bailey as the logical choice within Whispering Willows, since he had experience working as an Art Conservator within several museums in his past. But now I was thinking Tristian had more in common with her old advisor than she let on.
If she was the one employed to restore paintings within the Grimaldi collection, then she was the very best tool to use for access. She could plausibly remove the painting from wherever it was kept to clean or maintain, she could remove it from its frame, she could even swap it out for a forgery…if I had one. My usual forger had gone dark over a year earlier, and I didn’t trust anyone else to attempt a Van Gogh replica. Especially on my time frame.
No, my best bet was to use pretty little Tristian Ives for access, then snatch and run.
Simple.
This job could burn my most authentic cover identity, no doubt about it. But if any job was worth reinventing myself again, then it was this one.
I followed her at a distance across campus, keeping her in my peripheral vision as she unlocked her Corolla and climbed inside. She didn’t look around to check if anyone was following, because why would she?
My own car—a new purchase over the weekend—was closer to the exit of the parking lot. I waited patiently in my driver's seat as she drove out of the Boles campus, and then I followed at a distance.
I’d tried this a couple of times in the last week, but I’d been too conscious of my Corvette being recognized, so I had always lost her on the far side of town. Hence my new Ford Focus, blending in with every other idiot in town.
This time I had no concerns following her the whole way through town, and I stayed on her tail right up until she turned off into a private driveway some twenty minutes or so from campus. I kept driving but committed the location to memory. I’d revisit here another time, because I’d put money on it that the grand estate she was now driving up to was a Grimaldi property.
It was nice to have things swing my way again. For a moment there, I’d been worried.
“Back on track,” I murmured to myself as I circled back into Whispering Willows. I had hours to kill yet before I needed to stalk Tristian on her date, and I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather do than break into the dean’s office and steal the antique silver trinket box off his bookshelf.