Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sorry, again, for the long delay. I didn't think I would get this out until Saturday, and then I had a class cancelled this afternoon, and I raced home to work on it. :) Sure, I sacrificed a little homework time tonight to finish it, but you guys are worth it. 3

Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! Thanks for sticking with me, despite how busy I've been!

Chapter Eight:

If she didn't stop crossing and uncrossing her legs, there was going to be a problem. She had done it all through class, and I didn't know if she was uncomfortable or cold or whether she took some kind of sick pleasure in teasing me… but it was only by sheer force of will that I controlled myself. That, and the podium I kept between myself and the class, of course.

I used the bustle of everyone leaving to move rapidly into a seat behind the desk, seeking some cover, knowing that if Sara decided to stay after to ask questions, as she had been doing, this would be my only chance to move into a more discreet location without drawing attention to the problem she had created. It was a good thing I did—hardly thirty seconds after I'd seated myself, she was standing up on the other side of the desk, waiting for my attention. I smiled, trying for the life of me to remember what exactly I'd taught that day.

She grinned. "You know, I know you like to say that all areas of forensics can be interesting… but if were a forensic accountant, I might kill myself."

I quirked a smile. Ah, that was it—tracing money trails and an introduction to how you could tell, even without much accounting skill, when books looked off. It was not a particularly rousing subject, and I realized (belatedly, but I blamed that on the damn legs that wouldn't keep still all period) that Sara had hardly asked any questions. Even she must have been less than interested. "Well, then I suggest you find a different field of forensics to which you can apply all those questions…" I teased, lightly, picking up an old argument—that she should be a forensics major rather than physics—and she sat on the edge of the desk.

I mean, okay, it wasn't like she was around on my side. If another teacher walked in now, it would simply look like a very casual teacher-student conversation was taking place. …Except for the fact that it hiked that skirt even higher, and gave me a glimpse of… was that a tattoo? I felt my eyes narrowing, trying to make out the design on her inner thigh, before snapping my eyes back up to her face in shame, my cheeks burning, certain she was about to slap me.

She appeared like she hadn't particularly noticed—she was looking up at the ceiling, as if she were thinking deeply. I allowed myself one more stolen glance, but couldn't make it out. Still, that little detail had moved me from a noticeable erection at half-mast to a raging hard-on straining against my slacks and making thinking incoherent. If she didn't slide her perfect little ass off my desk this minute, I would lose hold of the last strand of self-control I possessed.

…And what? I asked myself, rolling my eyes. Even if I lacked all self-control, did I really believe I would bend her back over this desk and kiss her? No, of course not. Those were ridiculous thoughts, and I shouldn't even be entertaining them.

She finally turned her gaze back to me. "So I was thinking about this accounting thing… I mean, I know tax lawyers and people investigating big companies would use it… but how often do you trace money in actual forensics? I mean, are money trails all that common? That seems like something you'd really only see in the movies…"

I chuckled. Leave it to my Sara—No, no. Just Sara—to be completely oblivious to my discomfort and my wandering eyes, and instead bring everything back to forensics. I admired her dedication and her brilliance, but there was a small part of me—the part that was still trying to figure out what that tattoo was—that wished she would talk about her personal life, a little. Maybe I should try to draw it out, subtly. I mean, I knew she worked in a bar and that she mostly saw her friends while she was at work, her roommate included. But I didn't know anything about the roommate, or the friends, or the bar… or what she did on her occasional nights off. With that in mind, I picked a particular example.

"I had a case just a few months ago where we tracked down a semi-professional hit man with accounting. He ran a strip club, and he was working his fees into his books like they were just profit—It isn't really my area of expertise, but it was impressive how the specialist did it. Then, of course, a few minutes in an interrogation room with one of the girls—cocktail waitress, I think, not a dancer—and she was spilling her guts about things she'd heard and seen. We put the guy away for three consecutive life sentences."

She smiled down at me, taking the bait and making the connection between herself and the waitress. "Bosses never realize how much their workers know. I mean, not that Eddie's hiring himself out as a hit man or anything, but there was this one time he took this girl back into his office…" She blushed then, apparently uncertain about discussing her employer's liaison, but my amused grin must have reassured her. She laughed, shaking her head, and continued. "Well, let's just say that he thought he was very discreet, but none of us wanted to go back to ask him for change for the register…"

I grinned more broadly and shook my head. "So did you run and tell all your friends your boss was getting laid?"

Her eyes flashed surprise, but my words had the desired effect—she started talking about herself—her life—without the censorship she usually kept around me as her teacher. "Oh, god no. I mean, if I could have been certain they would have kept it quiet, I might have but… Well, Anni's got such a big mouth. Anni—that's my roommate—she likes to tease Eddie anyway, because he's really protective of me, you know? Doesn't like it when customers get handsy. So Anni likes to tease him that he wants me and, until a year ago, that I was his jailbait. So if I'd let something like that slip, it would have just made it sooo much worse on me when he came out..."

And then, completing this sentence and taking in my slightly startled expression, she blushed again, looking down.

"…You just turned eighteen last year?" I asked, speaking because I didn't want her to backtrack and think that she shouldn't have shared so much with me—I just wanted to know more about her—but also because I was surprised. She had said she was a junior—I was assuming that she was twenty or twenty-one. But no, she was much younger than that. She was practically my …jailbait.

She shrugged a little, seeming like she didn't really want to talk about it. "Yeah, I, uh—I graduated early. Anyway, I… I'm sorry. It was probably strange for me to… I didn't mean to tell you so much. I… I should go." She slid off the desk.

"No, no. I… Sara, I… liked hearing about it." I said, without thinking. Without taking the moment to realize what a line I was crossing. "…You don't have to feel like you have to censor yourself." I added, feeling like that added a little professionalism where a moment before there had been none. She turned back to me, biting her bottom lip and making me throb.

"…Really? I mean, I talk to Dr. Anderson about my life but… most professors don't really… they don't feel like you can be friends with your students. So I try not to make it weird…"

My heart fluttered, but I absolutely could not tell you why it should do such a thing. "No, it… it isn't weird. I…" What? I want to be your friend? I want to know what tattoo you have on your inner thigh and why on earth you're so close to Tony Anderson but so reserved when it comes to me? "I think we could be friends..."

"If it makes things uncomfortable for you…" She started, still countering, but I shook my head with more certainty than I felt.

"Not at all. In fact, let's go grab some coffee. …Unless, did you have any more questions? About forensic accounting, I mean?"

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "No. I think I could go a very long time without talking about that, ever, ever again." She laughed at my frown, and then we were standing, her swinging her backpack over her thin shoulders and me picking up my briefcase and suit jacket uncertainly. Sure, I might tell her that it was just fine to be friends… but that didn't mean that it was. What was I doing?

Nothing, my inner voice insisted. You're getting coffee.

I nodded. That was true. Coffee was a far cry from sex, after all.

And my heart was already racing at the thought of coffee, my jacket and briefcase held a little awkwardly in front of me, hiding my response to her. We moved into the hallway and I stopped at my office just long enough to lock it… but when I started walking again, she didn't. I turned to her in confusion, and she sighed.

"Dr. Grissom—"

"Grissom." I corrected, automatically, trying to guess the reason for her fallen features.

"Grissom," She agreed, lifting deep, dark brown eyes up to meet my gaze. "…I'm sorry. I'm gonna have to take a rain check."

I frowned, but nodded. "Oh… Okay. That's, um, that's fine. I…" I wanted to ask why, but I didn't. Maybe it was pride, or a sense of trying after the fact to retain some professionalism. It didn't matter. A moment later, she was telling me.

"I forgot that I told Eddie I'd come in early to work tonight, so that I could get the night off for that Science Seminar you and Dr. Anderson are doing in a couple weeks… I… I'm really sorry."

I shook my head, feeling relief and disappointment and excitement rushing over me in conflicting waves. "No. Not a problem at all. I, uh… I'll see you in class."

And with that, we separated from each other.

It had been so hard to lie. So hard to take what seemed like a golden opening and let it fly away—my only consolation was that he had, at least, agreed to the rain check. My readings on the man in question had told me that he was a man who would not choose to be seduced—he would enjoy the chase, if he would let himself chase. So I was walking a fine line here… trying to convince him that he wasn't pursuing me yet making him feel that he was… while, in truth, I was. Something he couldn't know either. I was pretty sure I'd done the right thing, however.

I mean, he hadn't asked for the coffee in the following few classes between that day and the seminar… but there was something a little different about the way he followed me with his eyes. I mean, it still wasn't the outrightly lascivious looks I'd come to associate with Dr. Felton, and I doubted very much that anyone else noticed them. They were not the looks of a man who is attracted to a woman. They were the looks of a man repressing something he would very much like to do or say. A man struggling with his own conscience.

So I figured I had to be doing something right.

…In which case, I figured I would step things up a notch. I'd had to give up a Saturday night off in order to get the night of the seminar, but it gave me time after class to shower and change. Dr. Grissom had never seen me freshly cleaned and styled and made up—only after hours of class. So I was excited, and I put a lot of thought into my outfit. Anni had seemed a little off tonight, and had left without telling me where she was going, which was strange—normally she would mention it in passing, or at least come help me decide on my wardrobe, supplementing it with her own, as needed.

I finally settled on a pair of light gray slacks, the only dressy pants I owned (I had bought them when I was sixteen for my interview here at Harvard), with black kitten heels, so I wouldn't be taller than Dr. Grissom, and a shiny, emerald green sleeveless shirt. It wasn't low cut, but in a push-up bra I had a bit of cleavage, and it walked the line between sophisticated and sexy. Or, at least, that had been what Anni's mother said when we all went shopping. The woman had been attempting to win me over to her side so that I might influence Anni in a direction she thought was more suitable… and also, I'm pretty sure she was hoping I would act as a spy more often than not.

I wasn't good with the undercurrents of social interaction, and I really hadn't been when I was just seventeen and on a shopping trip in stores I'd never heard of, accompanied by a woman whose jeans probably cost more than my entire wardrobe—but I had known enough to insist on buying the shirt myself. I wasn't going to owe her anything, and I certainly wasn't going to lead her to believe I was playing her game. As destructive as Anni was—who was I to talk?—her parents' vision for her was not any less harmful… just more presentable. Well, I didn't blame Anni for being fed up with that shit.

The only thing I borrowed was Anni's black pea coat, because it was an unseasonably cold night for September, cloudy and gray and sprinkling off and on, and my warm coat was not very dressy. It wasn't that I had to dress up, per se, but a professional conference implied that it wouldn't be a bad idea—and it would be the easiest way to get Dr. Grissom to see me dressed up without seeming out of place in class. As a final touch, I scooped up a thin, white scarf, thinking that it would be a nice touch, and then hurried out. I had been waiting for this night for weeks.

Dr. Anderson and Dr. Grissom greeted me separately almost as soon as I entered the second floor of the union, where the seminar was being held in one of the large. Dr. Anderson was speaking with another teacher I had seen in the chemistry building a time or two, but he waved as soon as he caught my eye. Dr. Grissom, however, was at my side immediately. "Let me help you with your coat…" He murmured, just a little too close to me, and I shivered, glancing at him. He still looked like he was warring with himself, and something told me that the haste with which he'd approached me had been a battle he'd lost. But he wasn't ready to give up the whole just because some ground had been lost. I smiled and turned my back to him, unbuttoning and letting the coat slide down my arms.

I almost felt sorry for him, watching him struggle not to look me up and down as he guided me to the front, to sit in one of the few seats in the front row that wasn't reserved for a speaker. His jacket—the awful one, with patches over the elbows—was slung over the seat beside mine. He carefully spread the coat over the back of the chair I was to take, and then finally allowed himself to meet my eyes, seeming to realize a little belatedly that, beyond asking for my coat, we hadn't spoken. She swallowed and offered a shy smile.

"Tony and I thought… well, that… you of all people should be up close. You're really going to enjoy this." And I could hear how true this was even without the glance up at Anderson and the wink he gave me—but there was also a slightly nervous edge to Dr. Grissom right now. An edge I hadn't seen before. He was… nervous, maybe? I smiled and sat, grateful when he was called away a moment later to address someone's question… because I needed a game plan. Other than just being irresistible.

I watched him speak, his eyes glancing at me now and then, and made up my mind. If he asked me to get coffee tonight, I would go. …Hell, I might ask for the rain check myself, especially if Dr. Anderson would be coming with us. That would ease the transition… make it seem like more acceptable behavior. In fact, that might be the best plan I'd had… his presence would offer a sense of propriety, but it would make it that much easier to get Dr. Grissom alone, outside of a school setting, in the future. With a slight sense of deviousness, I also decided that I could touch him, a little, tonight. Nothing overt or attention-grabbing, per se, but… enough.

Enough for him to remember, and enough to tempt him.

When he finally moved to sit with me, then, I didn't feel nervous or uncertain… I was a queen in my castle, smiling fondly at a petite hand covered in garish jewels, and mercifully allowing this man to sit within sight of me. That alone, was a gift, was it not? My arm brushed his as I adjusted how I was sitting, and I was thoroughly pleased to feel him tense in response beside me. However much I had doubted myself, in the beginning, I knew now that it really was just a matter of time.