Harker, year 0, Selection Process, The Sanders

Diane Parker rushed through the freshly painted corridors, tablet in one hand, briefcase in the other, listening to the meeting’s transcript. The Faculty—as she’d started thinking of the six silent backers of the academy—always sent her a copy even when what they talked about didn’t relate to her job as dean.

As always, Valiant’s speech was filled with so many technical details she suspected he did it on purpose to come across as more erudite. She thought the contrast with the medieval aspect of the man’s tech-based hero persona was amusing. The others spoke normally enough she understood them, although Le Demoniste’s French accent could become thick at times. Even if the whole was most often beyond her understanding, the overall tone gave her a sense of what to expect from Mister Harker’s next visit.

Becoming dean had never been on Diane’s list of things to do. She’d seen too much of problems the politics of running a school to want to have anything to do with the administration. School boards kept getting in the way of teachers doing their jobs. Budgets were cut over and over, and the dean had to decide what to sacrifice, when there should never be a question the students came first, and damn what any board demanded. She’d done the best with her classroom, up to, and including talking a few companies into paying for the books needed by her students in exchange for ad placement in them.

The results had been good, as far as she was concerned; even if it had cost her teaching position there. Some nonsense about a student’s education being too important to sacrifice a school’s integrity by bringing in corporate sponsors. She’d defied the dean to tell her what integrity the school had left when her students had had to huddle ten to a years out-of-date book before that.

Her outburst had not helped her situation.

Tracy Harker had found her in the midst of contacting school after school trying to convince them she was the right teacher for them. She’d been about to reach out of state when the man knocked at her door and made his offer. She’d almost laughed in his face when he offered her the position of dean for the new school he was funding.

He prevented that by saying the magic words. “You will be in charge of everything relating to running the school and the student’s education. The backers will be mostly hands-off in that respect.”

She’d been skeptical.

But to be handed the opportunity to do the job the way she felt it was supposed to? To ensure teachers were able to give their all, and not worry about whether their students could even afford to be there? She accepted.

To his credit, Tracy Harker waited until she was comfortably entrenched in her job to explain what the ‘mostly’ entailed.

She’d have quit right there, but she was already juggling a dozen problems. And, even two years before the academy was to open, she had had two hundred fifty students she was wooing.

That self-satisfied smirk made it clear he’d known what he was doing.

She had no idea how he expected her to handle that, on top of everything else. But once her surprise and anger passed, she warmed to the challenge. She would supervise the education of not one, but two types of students.

She’d still protested someone with powers should be placed in charge of that side of the school, but he’d countered that a dean’s job was to inspire, not intimidate. In that area, she was the best-qualified person, power or not.

“Diane,” her assistant called as she entered her office. “There’s someone in your—”

She was in her inner office and the door closing on the last words. She had her things on the desk before what Jeffrey said registered, along with the man standing by the window, looking onto the campus.

Her office was on the third floor, at the back of the administrative building, giving the window a view of nearly the entire campus. The buildings were all done at this point; the roadways and landscaping were all that was left.

Harker Academy was going to be a green Campus.

The man turned and smiled; his blue eyes vibrant. As with the previous meetings, the intensity of his gaze made her feel as if she was the most important person in his world.

Which was confusing as he hadn’t responded to any of her advances.

She returned the smile, trying to match it. Trying to make him feel the way she felt. “Mister—”

“Damian,” he interrupted her, and, somehow, managed not to offend her. This was nothing more than him ensuring she didn’t commit a faux-pas. “Please, Diane. I’ve told you before. Mister makes me feel old. Like my Dad, old.” He gave an exaggerated shudder and a wink. The motion hardly made his immaculate dark-blue suit move.

She looked him over, wishing she could convince him to at least take the jacket and shirt off. She would love to see the man’s muscular chest and arms, if nothing else.

“Damian.” She pulled her libido back. Good-looking men were definitely her weakness. “This is an unexpected visit.” As had been the previous ones. The only planned meeting had been the one to discuss the equipment’s delivery. She’d arranged it, hoping to convince him to keep her company afterward.

“I was meeting with a subsidiary in Pittsburgh, and I thought I’d stop by. See how you’re settling in.” The smile turned deprecating. “And ask for a small favor.”

She wasn’t surprised.

None of the previous accidental meetings had come with a request for favor. But the man had always happened to have ways to help the academy on hand while they talked. She was also savvy enough to know free aid was never truly so; especially with corporations.

Damian’s companies had provided nearly half the academy’s classroom equipment, all at no charge.

“Helping young men and women learn is too worthwhile an endeavor to consider charging for it,” he’d said, and had sounded genuine.

She’d been waiting for the favor ever since, and now had to tread carefully. She couldn’t let him take advantage, but she also didn’t want to make an enemy of a man with so many connections in the corporate world.

She noticed the two folders on the corner of her desk as she sat. She pulled them to her.

“You know I can’t tell you anything about what’s going on underground,” she said, opening the first folder to the picture of a young woman. “Or place someone there.”

She hadn’t managed to get him to explain how he’d learned about the academy’s underground facilities. As far as she knew, the number of people outside the Faculty who knew about it could be counted on one hand. She was confident Damian wasn’t one of them. She would have been told.

Of course, she couldn’t ask Tracy Harker about it, because if Damian wasn’t supposed to know, she’d be getting him in trouble.

The chuckle was a deep rumble, and she shivered. “It’s nothing like that, Diane. Those are two students I’d like to enroll in the normal side of Harker Academy.”

“Why not have them apply?” The young woman in the picture was very blond, with brown eyes and a hint of Asian ancestry. Also very pretty.

“I’d rather they didn’t know I’m involved.”

Pamela Sander, the next page said, along with notes from teachers and her counselor. She studied the man by the window, trying to determine his interest. He was old enough. “A relative?” She decided it was more diplomatic than stating the relationship she suspected.

He raised an eyebrow. “As a matter of fact, they are. But it’s rather complicated. Think of them as estranged from my family. They wouldn’t appreciate the help. What I’d like is for you to arrange for them to have a full pass. Schooling, board, food, books.”

She opened the other file. “I’m not sure how I can do that.” The young man had the same brown eyes, but his hair was short and dark brown. His Asian ancestry was also more pronounced. With him, the resemblance to Damian was also easier to see. They share the shape of their jaws. “Not with how the government is looking over everything we do because of the underground. The kind of money a student needs, let alone two, would be easily noticed by them.”

“Of course,” he said, bashful. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to imply I wanted the academy to pay. I will pay for all of it, of course. I just ask that you make sure they don’t know that. That it seems to come from the school.”

Patrick Sander, the other page said.

“This raises the question of how I explain where the money comes from. Equipment for the classroom is one thing. Money is another. The government frowns on that one.”

“How about a scholarship?” he asked after considering for a few seconds. “The subsidiary I was visiting, Arcinio Steel, would be a good fit, I think.

She considered in return. How far could she push? There had always been a cordial give-and-take at the previous meetings, but she now felt they were in preparation for this one.

“Won’t it look suspicious that a company in Pittsburgh ends up paying for two students out of San Francisco?” She glanced at both the school reports. “I’m not seeing anything here indicating they’re interested in the steel industry. That’s going to make it easy to connect them to you.”

His smile broadened. “This is why I like working with you, Diane. You don’t let being in my debt keep you from being shrewd. And you’re right. How do you feel about the scholarship being enough for five students?”

“Full-pass?”

“Let’s not be unreasonable, Diane.” His smile didn’t waver. “If you need that for another student, you’ll have to contend with fewer than five in total.”

Full-pass scholarships were rare, so no one would complain about not being offered one.

And it was three more students from her extensive list who had yet to agree to study at Harker she could help with their decision.

She looked at the reports more carefully, paying attention to their test scores, and realized that even though they were being placed here, they would be a boon. How had the recruiters missed them?

Was someone biased against community schools? Against poorer neighborhoods?

“I’m sorry?” She looked up, the fact Damian had spoken registering, but not the words.

“I was saying that I will leave you to your work. Someone from Arcinio Steel will be in touch with your financial department before the end of the day.”

“Of course. Jeffrey can give you the name of the person dealing with the scholarships.”

How had Coach Kelly not brought this young man to her attention? With that physique, he had to be one of his school’s top athletes. He had his own people scouting for students to fill the football team. If Patrick Sanders had, somehow, slipped through his net, she was going to make sure Coach Kelly was aware of him now.

*

Jeff startled and looked up into the amazing blue eyes he’d been daydreaming about.

How had the utter specimen of masculinity and handsomeness managed to exit the dean’s office without making a sound?

“Yes?” he stammered. He regained control of himself. “Yes, what can I do for you, Mister—”

“Damian, Jeffrey. I told you earlier. No ‘mister’ between us. I’m not here to impress you.”

Jeff swallowed and thanked God for that. If that man put one ounce of effort into being impressive, there would be nothing left of Jeff. “I’m sorry, Damian. What can I do for you?”

“You could go out to dinner with me.”

Jeff’s brain had malfunctioned. That was the only way he could have heard what he thought he had.

“Jeffrey?”

He stammered something. It might have been an apology; he had no idea. Sounds simply exited his mouth. He couldn’t make out what they meant.

The Adonis smiled, and all of Jeff’s blood went south.

He mentally cursed. He wouldn’t be able to think any clearer with all of it down there.

Damian looked around furtively before reaching over the desk and running a finger along Jeff’s cheek.

He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch with a sigh.

“That sounds very much like a yes,” Damian whispered.

“I—” with effort, Jeff regained some control. The blood still didn’t travel north, where it belonged. “I want to.”

The man’s expression fell slightly. “That sounds like a no.” The disappointment was palpable, and Jeff wanted to say, do, anything to chase it away. Such a man should never, ever, know disappointment.

“It wouldn’t be appropriate,” he said in as steady a voice as he could manage. He chastised his hormones. He was thirty-eight, not eighteen. They weren’t in charge anymore. And it had to be his imagination. A man like Damian had to have men lining up around the block for a chance to go out to dinner with him.

And yet, he made the offer to Jeff.

“We have a business relationship.” How badly he wanted to say yes.

Damian canted his head, and Jeff was reminded of Sampson, his Pitbull, when he heard something odd. “I have a business relationship with the dean, not you.” He smiled, and Jeff thanked God again that he was sitting. He could tell his knees were weakening. He cursed as the blood that had started the trek north turned right around.

“Well,” the man smiled. “Only because you haven’t said yes to dinner. Which, I have to admit, hurts.” The smile took the sting out of the jab.

“I wish I could,” Jeff said, meaning it. “I really do. But Dean Parker wouldn’t approve.

“I understand.” Damian leaned forward, and Jeff couldn’t move, held in place as much by those pools of blue as by the knowledge of what was coming. If the dean opened her doors now, he’d be without a job before the lips connected.

But that would mean there would be nothing keeping him from going out with this man.

The lips didn’t touch.

“I wish there was something I could do to convince you otherwise,” Damian whispered, his breath hot on Jeff’s lips.

As he opened them to say… something, the lips pressed against his, and whatever blood he had left landed south. When the pressure lessened, Jeff leaned forward to keep the kiss going. He’d barely gotten a taste of the man, and that was nowhere near enough.

The lips left his, and he opened his eyes, gazing into a sea of blue.

He tried to catch his breath.

“Yes.” The word came, carried on the exhale.

Damian smiled. “I’m so happy you agreed. I promise. You will not regret it.” He straightened, never breaking eye contact. “Do you want me to pick you up? Or should we meet there?”

“There.” Jeff shook himself mentally. “I mean. I’ll meet you there.”

Had Damian said where? Regardless, it was best if his involvement with the magnate wasn’t obvious. It wouldn’t do for a man like him to be linked to someone as lowly as Jeff.

The hunk wrote on the back of a business card and handed it to him. “I’ll see you there.” An address and time. “Oh. When do you have to be at work tomorrow?”

Was he implying what Jeff imagined? There was no way he could— “Eight,” he said, ignoring the mental protest.

Damian nodded. “I’ll make sure you’re behind your desk on time.” He smiled again, then the expression turned professional. “The dean said you could give me the name of the person in your finance department handling scholarships.”

Jeff stared.

Even the professional Damian was hot. Maybe even hotter, now that he was no longer blinded by the radiating sexuality. When the question registered, a quick search through the registry gave him the person, and he wrote her name down.

Damian’s hand closed over Jeff’s as he handed the paper, and the contact was enough to send his blood into free fall.

Slowly, oh so agonizingly slowly, Damian pulled his hand away, the caress giving Jeff goosebumps. The one place that didn’t react to the touch only did so because there was nothing else it could do, short of jumping out of his pants to accompany the man toward whatever waited.

And Jeff could look forward to an entire night with him

What pleasures would he experience?