Beyond the Ivory Tower (7 page)

Colette followed his gaze. “I think that’s one of the associate deans. He’ll probably try to hit me up for an endowed chair or something.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Ethan promised, just before cutting in.

The following day, Anna was working through a proof with one of her grad students when the phone rang. A local number she didn’t recognize.

“I have a proposition,” Ethan said when she picked up.

“Excuse me?”

“Meet me for lunch,” he said. “I’ll tell you all about it.”

She couldn’t believe his gall. Last night, he’d attended the donors’ dinner with his girlfriend, and now he was inviting Anna to lunch? And that didn’t even begin to touch on the hypocrisy of showing his face at an event honoring supporters of the university. The fact that his girlfriend was one of those supporters, despite being the CEO of the Talbot Foundation, also made no sense. Unless it was some calculated PR move designed to counter the wave of public criticism Ethan had endured after Anna’s blog post went viral. Like a hard-line Republican endorsing Planned Parenthood.

She should have called him on it last night, when she’d had the chance. Instead, she’d let him sweep her into his arms, her heart fluttering like a trapped bird in her chest.

She’d never thought of herself as weak. But there, in the middle of the dance floor, with his scent pervading her senses and his firmly muscled body melting her resistance, she realized that logic and strength of will were no defense against overwhelming desire. She finally understood the literary heroines she’d dismissed with such contempt in the past.

But while Anna Karenina, Guinevere, and Eponine—or, more precisely, the writers who penned their stories—disguised desire in lofty words of love, Anna knew the difference. She might want Ethan, but she didn’t fancy herself in love with him. And she wouldn’t expire if she didn’t have him.

So she did the smart thing. She removed herself from temptation, slipping out of the reception hall as soon as the music drew to a halt. If her department chair wasn’t happy, so be it. She’d shown up, given the requisite speech, and even stayed for dessert. He couldn’t ask for more than that.

Problem solved. Or so she’d thought, until now. Ethan had the devil’s own persistence. Unfortunately, that was something she could relate to. In research, persistence was sometimes the only thing that separated success from failure.

“Anna,” Ethan prompted.

She glanced at her student, who was still writing on the whiteboard. “I have a faculty meeting at noon.”

“You can’t skip it?”

He really was the devil, tempting her like this.

She dreaded faculty meetings almost as much as she dreaded fancy parties. The inevitable oneupmanship and posturing that took place whenever professors and administrators got together grated on her nerves. But as one of only three tenured women in the math department, she couldn’t afford to miss too many meetings, for fear that programs and agenda items important to female faculty and students would get cut or shuffled to the back burner in her absence. With academic resources in scarce supply, especially at a state institution, any cause that didn’t have a vocal enough proponent was unlikely to get funded. As a result, she often found herself in the unenviable position of being the lone champion for a vastly under-represented minority in an almost exclusively male field. For all the lip service the university paid to promoting diversity, the demographics didn’t change much from one year to the next. Which meant Anna had to continue showing up at faculty meetings and pushing for consideration of female candidates for junior faculty, post-doctorate, and graduate student slots.

Whatever Ethan had in mind would have to wait.

“No,” she said. “I can’t skip the meeting.”

“How about after?”

She hesitated. “I can give you an hour.”

“Your office?”

“Okay,” she said. What was the worst that could happen in an hour? In broad daylight, with her office door left open, and not a drink in sight. “You know where it is?”

“I’ll find it.”

~

Anna fidgeted through the entire faculty meeting, barely able to pay attention.

What did Ethan mean by “proposition?” And why had he insisted on seeing her instead of discussing it by phone?

Her mind kept returning to last night. He’d worn a suit that looked custom-tailored to fit his wide shoulders and lean hips. Cuff-links that matched the silver-blue of his tie peeked from beneath the sleeves. Pressed against him on the dance floor, she’d closed her eyes, absorbed in the moment. The heady scent of his cologne, the strength of his arms around her, the sensual movement of their bodies to the strains of Johann Strauss.

She had to shake this crazy fascination she had with the man. He obviously thought that money, looks, and charm entitled him to do as he liked, without regard to how it affected others.

“Anna, did you want to add something to the discussion?”

She blinked at the department chair’s question, hoping she hadn’t missed anything important. “No,” she said. “Not at this time, thanks.”

A glance at the clock showed that the meeting was running late.

By the time she got to her office, Ethan was already there, leaning against the wall just outside her door, reading something on his iPhone. He straightened up when he saw her.

“Sorry,” she said, fumbling with the keys. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“No worries.” He smiled. “I caught up on email.”

She opened the door and hesitated. With most visitors, she used the informal seating area around the whiteboard. As Ethan moved closer, invading her personal space, she changed direction. Once she was safely ensconced behind her desk, with its massive piles of paper, stacks of journals, and assorted computer hardware, she was able to draw a deep breath.

For several minutes she watched as Ethan prowled the room, examining the overstuffed shelves, the whiteboard covered in scribbled formulas, the framed photograph of a much younger Anna in cap and gown flanked by her smiling parents.

“I have another meeting in forty-five minutes,” she finally said. “Was there something you wanted to discuss?”

He looked at her. “You’ve been pretty vocal in your views about the Fellowship program.”

“Yes.” She shifted in her seat. Here it was, the argument she’d been unconsciously bracing for.

He sauntered toward the desk and claimed one of the chairs across from her, unbuttoning his jacket as he sat down. She tried not to stare at the way the T-shirt beneath stretched over his pecs. She could see herself running a hand over those broad muscles, down the flat planes of his stomach, toward the belt that threaded through the loops of his jeans.

She jerked her eyes back up and flushed when she realized he’d seen where her gaze had wandered.

His dimple flashed. “We have a couple Fellows this year whose projects require some high-level math. I was thinking this might be the perfect opportunity for you to see how the program works.”

“Excuse me?”

“They’re bright kids, but they could use a little help from someone with experience in applied mathematics.” He leaned back, casually resting an ankle on the opposite knee. “So how about it? It wouldn’t take much time. Maybe two or three sessions where you’d meet and talk them through whatever questions they might have.”

Surely she’d heard him wrong. He couldn’t possibly be suggesting that she become a mentor in his damn program.

“Let me get this straight,” she said. “You want me to volunteer my time to help you convince students to drop out of school?”

He sighed and shook his head. “These kids are already Talbot Fellows. You don’t need to convince them of anything. They’re eager to learn as much as possible. Just not in the context of school.”

“That makes no sense,” she said. “If they’re that bright and eager to learn, then school is
exactly
where they should be. The whole point of education is to stimulate intellectual curiosity and inspire a life-long love of learning. To give students the tools they need to continue learning long after they’ve graduated and you’re no longer there to look over their shoulders.”

“In an ideal world,” he said, “that would be enough. But we don’t live in an ideal world. We live in a world where the love of learning won’t help a kid who graduates with a poly-sci degree and two hundred grand in debt. That kid will most likely have to take a job that isn’t at all interesting or fulfilling—just so he can pay back the debt and cover the bills and maybe support a family.”

Anna frowned. “If more students chose to go into STEM fields, they’d be better prepared for a career that’s both intellectually and financially rewarding.”

“What the Fellowship offers is even better, Anna. It provides students an alternative route to success.” He braced both feet on the floor and leaned forward. “It gives them the freedom to pursue their dreams without having to worry about outdated rules and grades and mountains of debt. You tell me what college program can guarantee that.”

Listening to Ethan’s impassioned speech, Anna could see how someone might be swayed by his line of reasoning. It sounded so convincing. So emotionally appealing.

And yet, reality was far different from the picture Ethan painted. Credential inflation was seeping into every industry these days. The minimum qualifications required for any given job were growing, as inevitably as the rise of sea levels from global warming. What may have required a high school degree in the past was increasingly requiring a college degree today, while positions previously filled by college grads now demanded master’s or doctorate degrees. And even doctorate degrees were often not enough. Post-docs were now almost de rigueur in academia.

What Ethan was proposing flew in the face of logic. She’d known that from day one, when Klara had explained that thanks to the Talbot Fellowship, she was dropping out of school.

The only thing that had changed since then was Anna’s perception of Ethan Talbot. More specifically, his motivations. Yes, he probably stood to benefit financially from whatever projects the Talbot Fellows managed to grow into successful startups. But she no longer believed that was his primary objective.

For a man who made his living as a venture capitalist, he seemed remarkably altruistic—driven by a sincere desire to change what he saw as a flawed system, rather than by any profit motive.

But that didn’t change the fact that they had a fundamental difference of opinion.

She sighed, too tired and disheartened to argue. “I’m sorry, Ethan—”

He cut her off. “Don’t say no. Please. These kids are brilliant. All they need is a little guidance from someone who understands them, who can point them in the right direction. Say you’ll do it. A few hours of your time, Anna, that’s all I’m asking. The Foundation will cover your expenses. Travel, accommodations, meals. All you need to do is show up and teach.”

Anna bit her lip. “Where?”

His smile was blinding. “San Francisco.”

She had to be crazy to even consider it.

“Come on, Anna. Say yes. You’ll get to visit your sister…”

“I can do that without participating in your program.”

“True.” He studied her for a moment. “What if I offered to fund a full scholarship for your top three incoming undergraduates?”

Her brows shot up. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said. “I just want you to keep an open mind. Give me two or three days this summer and next. If after that you’re still convinced the Fellowship is a bad idea, fine. But if by chance you’ve changed your mind, I want you to blog about it.”

“I won’t change my mind.”

He made a tsking sound. “Doesn’t the scientific method call for making up your mind only
after
you run the experiment and gather all the data?”

“Which class did you learn that in?”

He grinned. “I’ll have my lawyer draw up the paperwork.”

“I thought you were a lawyer.”

“Yes, but you know what they say about the man who represents himself having a fool for a client.” He stood up. “I’m no fool.”

Maybe not, but she was beginning to have some doubts about herself. “I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll have the opportunity to read things through and make whatever corrections you feel necessary before signing.”

“Fine.” She rose from behind the desk and headed for the door. “I’ll see you out.”

He didn’t move. “Anna.”

She glanced back at him. “Yes?”

“What are your plans for dinner?”

She halted mid-stride. “Why?”

“I’d like to take you out.”

She stared at the closed door. She’d meant to leave it open. But she hadn’t accounted for the possibility that Ethan would follow her in and shut the door himself. She reached for the handle. “Is your girlfriend busy tonight?”

At least he didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Colette is a friend. Nothing more.”

“No benefits?”

“None at all.”

Anna released a breath and closed her eyes. Behind her, she could sense his approach. The air seemed to shift, become electrified.

“She’s married,” Ethan said, his voice a husky murmur inches away from her ear. “And there are certain lines you just don’t cross.”