Rebel: Chapter 6

At Sea Dr. Delgado. After all these years of working my ass off, I finally got to say it to a class full of students. Sure, I was here only because Dr. Messina had been my mentor last year at UCLA, but I’d take it. I was a college professor…as long as I didn’t fuck it up.

Vegas had almost destroyed this chance for me, but damn if I hadn’t thought about her every five minutes, anyway. Penelope wasn’t the kind of girl you just forgot.

I did my best to meet each of my students’ eyes as I swept the room from right to left, making sure I saw all of them—acknowledged them as individuals. “We have a little over a week while we cross the Pacific and head down the coast, and then I’ll expect you on 90 percent of my shore excursions for class.” I looked to the next row, where a guy who seemed weirdly familiar caught me off guard for a breath. Then, a knot of blond hair grabbed my attention, and my gaze flickered over. “I know you have other classes, but—”

No. Fucking. Way.

Sitting in my class, her mouth slightly agape—those gorgeous, soft lips parted—with wide, crystal-blue eyes, was Penelope.

My Penelope.

I locked that thought down tight.

She was here. On this ship. In my classroom. I didn’t have to search Facebook for every Penelope with blond hair. I didn’t have to hunt down Brandon Wilder—I’d at least gotten that information from the cops—and beg him to tell me where to find my Cinderella.

She was sitting right in front of me.

A kid coughed, and I blinked. Damn it. I was standing in front of my first college class, staring at a student.

“Right,” I said, looking down at the industrial-grade carpet beneath my feet to keep my eyes the hell off Penelope. I shook my head, got my shit together in the span of a heartbeat, and looked back up. If I could handle a year in a forward operating base on the Afghanistan/Pakistan border, I could deal with this.

I raised my head and continued meeting every student’s gaze. Well, every student but one. “Sorry. Like I was saying, I expect you on 90 percent of my shore excursions. Your theses are no joke, and you’ll want to draw on every experience I can give you.”

My attention strayed to Penelope’s stunned stare, her head tilted like she couldn’t believe I was here. Her face said everything I felt.

I ripped my gaze away, turning back to my desk where I’d left a folder of syllabi. Get control, or you’ll ruin everything.

Papers in hand, I walked to the head of each row, handing them a stack to pass to the students behind them. “This is your syllabus for the term,” I said, leaning back against my desk and keeping my eyes on anyone but Penelope. “When thinking about your thesis topic, which—if you look at your syllabus—is due March fifteenth, which coincides with—”

“Peru,” one young lady called out from the right side of the classroom.

“Peru,” I agreed. “Topics I think would be of interest would be on the intersection of culture and history—how events shape the people who shape their nation and vice versa. You’ll find a wealth of opportunity to immerse yourself in the rich history of Latin America this term. Since assigning your reading and handing out your syllabus was all I had planned for you today, are there any questions?” I paused, and when no hands went into the air, dismissed the class, reminding them that my office hours and email address were on the back sheet of the synopsis.

I busied myself with stacking my papers, praying Penelope wouldn’t stop as the class filed out. When the door shut and I was left alone in blissful silence, I sat back against the desk, rubbing the heels of my hands over my eyes.

This will be okay. I could ignore her, pretend that I didn’t know the rebellious spirit behind those blue eyes, or the way her kiss tasted like the sweetest kind of sin, or how she felt beneath those jeans.

Shit, this was wrong. I couldn’t even think of her like that anymore. She was somehow halfway across the world with me and now my student. That was it. Student.

Wait, that meant…

My fingers flew through the contents of the manila folder on the desk, then ran down the list of names until I found hers. “Penelope Carstairs,” I said softly, testing the weight of it on my tongue.

My stomach clenched as my surprise gave way to something darker. How the hell was this possible? How was it that I’d found this extraordinary woman again only to have her completely off-limits?

“This will be okay.” I repeated the lie quietly. I’d spent only a handful of hours with her; it wasn’t like we had a history.

You had a connection.

So what, we shared a few kisses. We hadn’t had sex, so that line hadn’t been crossed, right? I wasn’t in love with her. Hell, I barely knew her. We just happened to have some chemistry.

Chemistry hot enough to sear off your nerve endings.

And my common sense.

I scanned the rest of the class roster, my eyes catching on another last name. Well, wasn’t that just peachy? Maybe she hadn’t been my Penelope after all.

The door opened, and I turned to see the very woman who’d haunted me these last forty-eight hours. She took in the room, and once she saw that we were alone, she closed the door behind her, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth.

I knew exactly how soft that lower lip was, the way she liked to have it sucked on lightly.

Student. She’s a student.

“Miss Carstairs,” I said softly. Damn, that came out way more intimate than I intended.

“Dr. Delgado.”

Fuck, that sounded even better coming out of her mouth than it had mine.

She examined the floor, the ceiling, each of the walls, and the window before finally letting herself look at me.

Moments passed in silence as we simply stood there watching each other. I hadn’t imagined our intense connection. It was real. It was electric, and it was now dangerous to everything I’d been working for. I was so fucked, and not in the good way. “Penelope,” I whispered, allowing myself the simple pleasure.

“Cruz,” she replied with a shy smile. As she took a step toward me, I backed away, rounding the desk to keep it between us.

“You stay over there. I’ll stay over here,” I said.

She simply arched an eyebrow at me.

I swallowed. “I’m your teacher. You are my student.”

“This is really fucked up,” she said, running her hands over her face. I wanted to pull them back, to make her look at me with those ocean blue eyes so I could fix everything that was wrong.

But there was no fixing this.

There were so many questions I wanted to ask her. How she was here. Where she was really from. What she’d been doing in Vegas in the first place. “Is Paxton Wilder your boyfriend?”

Shiiiiiit, that was not what I meant to ask.

“My teacher wouldn’t care,” she answered with a smile that knocked the wind from my lungs. She was too damn beautiful for my peace of mind.

“Okay, well, for the next five minutes, let’s just pretend that I’m…not. Then we’ll begin our official roles,” I offered. That had to be the best plan, right? If not, the questions were going to drive me mad.

“So, Cruz cares, but not Dr. Delgado?” Penelope asked with an incredibly sexy smirk.

“Something like that,” I admitted. Hell yes, I cared.

“Pax is pretty much my brother. So is Brandon. That’s why I called him to get us out of the Vegas situation. He has more than a little experience cleaning up the messes we make.”

“You do that a lot?”

“Get arrested? Or make messes?”

“Both? Either?” I backed up another step, trying to put more distance between us. Not that it mattered. The very air between us was electrified.

She shrugged. “Pax got arrested in Madagascar, but that’s a long story.” As if remembering whatever happened, her face fell. “But yeah, we make messes. It’s kind of what we do.”

“You meet strangers in bars, take them BASE jumping, and then—”

“No, and definitely no! I’ve never done either of those things before. Besides, what are you, the youngest professor in the history of…?” Her hands gestured wildly. “Well…history?”

“Smooth,” I laughed. “I graduated high school at seventeen with enough AP classes to put me as a sophomore in college, joined the army, and took classes through their program every day of my three years of service. I graduated with my bachelor’s degree right after I got out at twenty, spent two years on my master’s, and then went straight into a PhD program. I actually just defended my dissertation over break. Dr. Messina was my advisor and asked if I would fill in for the last three months because she couldn’t stay, and I was free until fall. I was only in Vegas to say good-bye to my friends before flying out.”

“But you’re so young…and hot. Did I mention hot? And a really good kisser.”

I ignored the way my dick jumped and told my brain to get the images of her under me off replay. “Penelope, I’m your teacher.”

“Not for these five minutes, you’re not, remember?” She folded her arms under her perfect breasts and arched an eyebrow.

Damn, the woman could dish it out.

“Right.”

Tension grew between us, an almost palpable presence.

“What do we do?” she asked softly, losing that sharp edge that had hooked me in Vegas and revealing the vulnerable center of her that had reeled me in.

“There’s nothing to be done,” I answered, my voice dropping. “I’m your teacher. You’re my student for the next three months.”

“And after that?”

“You’ll go home, and I’ll head off to the East Coast. I have a job lined up there already.”

Her gaze dropped to the desk, and I hated the way her eyes closed slowly.

“Okay, well, what if I take a different seminar class?”

“Penelope.”

She swallowed.

“Look at me.” My voice was so soft it was nearly a whisper.

Her eyes rose slowly until those Caribbean blue orbs landed on me, nearly killing my resolve on what I had to say next.

“It wouldn’t matter. You’re still a student, and I’m still a teacher who can’t afford to lose his first job because he has…” Shit, I couldn’t think of the words. Because there were none. We weren’t a one-night stand, since we hadn’t gotten the night. God, I wish we’d gotten the night. We weren’t together in any sense of the word, and yet we’d experienced something intense and meaningful. I knew in my bones that she’d felt it, too. She lifted that brow again, challenging me to find the words. “Fine. Because I have a connection with a student.”

She blinked quickly and nodded. “Right. Of course you’re right. Besides, I need this history credit to graduate, and it’s not like there’s another history class being given right now. Small ship.”

“Small ship,” I agreed, realizing with those words how hard it was going to be. She’d be everywhere—in my class, in the halls, in the cafeteria, in my head, but never in my bed. She was, as of this moment, untouchable.

“Do you want me to drop the class?”

I shook my head. “There’s no reason to punish you, especially if you need the credit to graduate. It’s not like either of us knew.”

“But won’t you get in trouble?”

The worry in her eyes and the way a little line appeared between her brows nearly made me reconsider. It didn’t matter that we’d only shared a few hours together, I cared about this girl—this woman—and I knew she cared, too.

“I think as long as we keep our past…discreet, we’ll be fine. I can’t afford to lose this job.” Or my only chance to get to Elisa.

“By discreet, you mean secret.” Her gaze flickered toward the clock. Our five minutes were nearly up.

“Only if you agree. I’d never ask you to lie for me.” No matter what it could potentially cost me.

“Of course I’ll keep it a secret. I don’t want you to lose your job. Like you said, it’s not like we knew.” She shook her head and huffed out an exasperated sigh. “God, I wish we still didn’t know.”

“Penelope,” I whispered, as if the slice of pain through my chest cut off my vocal cords.

“I know. I should be going.”

“Wait. I have thirty more seconds.” It was out of my mouth before I could think better of it. “I just wish I had something better to say to fill it.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” she responded.

We stood there, our eyes locked, listening to the metronome-like ticking of the seconds on the clock. The desk still sat between us, a proactive no-man’s land, but damn if it didn’t feel like she was still in my arms back in Vegas. My fingers twitched, remembering the silk of her skin. This was madness. Utter and complete insanity.

“Time’s up,” she said, stepping back from the desk. “Dr. Delgado.”

I inclined my head. “Miss Carstairs.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you around. Small ship, remember?” She forced a smile and walked out without waiting for a response.

“Small ship,” I said to my empty classroom.

…

“So are you finding everything you need?” Lindsay asked as we got off the elevator on the ninth deck.

The blond teacher, who looked to be only a few years older than I was, had been kind enough to show me to my room, which was right down the hall from hers, when I’d come aboard this morning. She was pretty, with an average face and figure…or maybe she was beautiful but Penelope had simply upped my standards to impossibly high.

“I think so,” I answered. “So far I’ve found my bedroom, the bathroom, and my classroom.”

“How do you like the suite?” she asked as we neared the door at the end of the long hallway.

“It’s really nice. And I like the other teacher I share it with. Westwick?”

She nodded. “He’s not too bad.”

“Do all of the teachers have suites?” I asked, trying to think of something to say that wasn’t hey, I’d like some alone time to think about what the fuck just happened with Penelope.

“Yep. Suites are all for the teachers, except for the ones on deck ten. Those belong to Paxton Wilder and his crew of daredevils, since he owns the ship and all. They’re reasonably good kids when they’re not terrorizing the ship with their stunts. Just a few months ago they seriously parasailed behind the boat!”

Wilder, a twenty-two-year-old, owned the ship. Daredevils. Penelope. My mind raced, taking in all the information possible.

“Is that so?” I asked.

“It is!” Her forehead crinkled. “Oh my God, listen to me ramble. I bet you’d like to kick that jet lag, huh?”

“Sounds about right,” I said, forcing a quick smile.

“Well, how about I show you the dining hall later?” she asked, resting her hand on my forearm.

Hell no.

I moved toward my door, my key ready, naturally breaking the contact. “That actually sounds perfect. How about we grab some of the other staff? I wouldn’t mind making a few friends.”

Her smile lost a little of its brightness, but she nodded. “Yeah, absolutely. Six work for you?”

“Sure,” I answered. An awkwardly spaced good-bye later, I was through my suite door and finally alone. I walked directly to my bedroom, which was the first on the right, and tossed my leather bag onto the bed, where my suitcase was open and in disarray from my hectic search for class-ready clothes.

I took out the file I’d made up for Elisa and opened it to her photo. It was the latest one she’d sent me. Her eyes were too familiar, her smile one I’d seen thousands of times… God, she looked just like her. I clipped the photo back on top of the ones I couldn’t stand to see ever again—the ones she’d documented of her bruises, the scars from where she’d had pins placed in her arm from the last time he broke it.

Never again, I promised myself. But every day she stayed with him was a day too long, a day full of the possibility that she wouldn’t make it out of there alive. There were too many days between now and when I could get to her, but I was on my way. I closed the file and slid it into the bottom drawer of my nightstand.

I bypassed my uncharacteristic mess and went onto the balcony, which was private to my room. Leaning on the white railing, I took in the full-ocean view, letting the breeze relax me. I decided this one spot would be my refuge, where I could absorb some much-needed quiet.

“Like you weren’t checking out his ass.”

I heard the feminine voice above me and almost laughed. So much for quiet. Then again, I was on a cruise ship full of college kids. The only quiet I was going to find would likely be in my bedroom. I turned to walk inside, shaking my head.

“Nope. I most definitely was not.”

I stopped mid-stride. I knew that voice.

“Oh, shut the hell up. Even Leah was ogling, and she’s practically married to Wilder. I’m with Landon, and you are the lone single gal who can give us her completely unbiased opinion on the level of hotness of our newest professor.”

Holy shit. They were talking about me.

I should have gone inside. I should have shut the door, worked on unpacking, and then headed for the gym.

But I couldn’t seem to move my damn feet.

“He’s okay,” she answered.

“Penna, you’re such a liar!”

My eyes shut slowly, knowing I’d correctly guessed the owner of that sweet voice.

“I am not. Maybe he’s just not my type. Maybe I go for lanky blond guys and not…”

“Not guys who look like they don’t have a spare ounce of fat on them and desperately need their ties pulled so they come in for a kiss? I wonder what his first name is. I bet it’s something delicious.”

“He’s a teacher, so it’s Doctor,” Penelope snapped.

“Quit teasing her, Rachel.”

My feet finally started working, but instead of heading inside, I went back to leaning on the railing.

“Fine. Sorry, Penna. I just think that maybe you need to get out a little more. You know Alex has been bugging Landon to hook you two up.”

My stomach clenched, despite my brain telling it to knock that shit off.

“Yeah, not happening,” Penelope answered.

I refused to believe that my stomach would react by relaxing, but it did.

“Yeah, well, just think about it. Leah, you coming?”

“Absolutely. We’ll catch you at dinner, Penna.”

I heard the sliding door shut above me and looked up to see Penelope leaned out over her railing, too, blond hair now loose and blowing in the wind, completely oblivious to the fact that I was just beneath her. I bit back every instinct to call out to her, walked into my room, and shut the door.

She was no longer the enchanting, gorgeous, thrilling, dangerously damaged girl I connected with in Vegas. She was a student.

And she was right.

This ship was fucking small.