Page 5 of A Reputation Dark & Deadly

Chapter 2

Beingin grad school meant getting the option to TA. When Peyton got the message after her class with Logan Jeffrey from someone begging her to fill in for her for the entire quarter, Peyton jumped at the chance without thinking about it.

Three hours and twenty-nine minutes later, in the half-empty room of a lecture building, Peyton decided she regretted her decision.

"Well, well, well, sweetheart," he drawled, his eyes going up and down Peyton's frame. It wasn't lecherous, but it was enough to show that he was in charge and he hadn't forgotten her little outburst in class just a few hours ago. "Miss me already?"

Peyton felt her anger spark. It was like he had dumped gasoline and her and was waiting for a spark, some kind of flame to hit her just right so she could catch fire. She had no idea how he was allowed to talk to her with such condensation without any sort of reprimand. She didn't appreciate the pet name either, but she also knew he didn't reserve that solely for the female population of the student body. Rather, he called everyone something except their name. Plus, she knew from friends who had been in his classes before that he absolutely detested any physical or sexual abuse against women and children. The pet name had nothing to do with her sex and everything to do with power. He didn't need to learn her name; she was just another student. He would forget her existence the minute she walked out of his classroom for the last time. But he knew he was someone that wasn't easily forgotten. Even for her.

Despite his booming personality, Logan Jeffrey was drop dead beautiful. He was rough around the edges, with salt and pepper whiskers covering the lower half of his face and his hazel-colored eyes wrinkled at the corners. Peyton would say he was in his early forties but he certainly didn't look it. His jet black hair was slicked back from his face, making his features more prominent. He was lean with broad shoulders and pure muscle. He constantly wore a leather jacket and jeans. He was the definition of masculinity and that by itself was enough for Peyton to feel this irresistible attraction to him. Add the fact that he was her professor and advisor made him strictly off-limits, which just added a danger to her attraction. And finally, his dimples... Peyton didn't think she had been a dimples sort of woman, but on him, they made him look boyish. Approachable.

Until he opened his mouth.

Let's not forget that voice, a voice sing-songed.

Petition clenched her jaw at the thought. She did not want to be reminded of his voice, actually, especially not right now, not when he was looking at her with those sparkling hazel eyes and that cocky smirk she wanted nothing more than to slap off his face.

He knew it, too.

Logan knew that he got under her skin.

That was not a good thing. Logan Jeffrey was the type of person who sniffed out a weakness and made an effort to showcase it every chance he got, like poking a bruise over and over and over again. The gleam in his hazel eyes and the grin on his face only caused the butterflies of dread to flap their wings faster. It didn't help that a couple of caterpillars attracted to that face and to that look managed to sneak in so her emotions were in a strange stage of influx.

"And what are you fucking doing here?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Peyton was compelled to look down at his arms as he crossed those arms over his chest and watched his biceps tug at the soft grey sleeves on his v-neck shirt.

Shit. He was in excellent shape. He was built lean but it was all muscle. Peyton had no idea how old he was besides her estimation; he was way too old for her, almost half his age. She definitely shouldn't be attracted to him. His age, the fact that he was her professor and advisor, the fact that he was the biggest ass she had ever known were all compelling reasons to run away from this attraction. It was dark and twisted and totally not what she should be focused on.

But she couldn't help it if she tried. And his grin deepened because he knew it.

Of course he did.

"Well?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. "Fucking cat got your fucking tongue?"

Peyton clenched her jaw. "I'm your TA," she told him. None of the students seemed to care one way or the other that Logan Jeffrey and Peyton were having a quiet, intense conversation, which was a good thing because she didn't want freshmen to notice her dilated pupils and the light flush on her cheeks.

He started laughing in a way that fitted him: loud and obnoxious. "How fucking fitting," he said. "I'm sure you put in a fucking personal request?"

"Actually, the girl who was assigned to be your TA begged to be released from the commitment," Peyton replied. "They needed someone last minute and I said yes."

"Well, you're a fucking fool, aren't you?" he asked.

"Probably," Peyton agreed, "but I need the money and you need the help. What would you call it? A mutually beneficial relationship?"

Logan threw his head back and laughed. This caught some of the front row's attention. "You have a lot of spunk, sweetheart," he said. "I like that. I've never had a TA, much less a student, with your fucking sass."

Peyton continued to stare at him but wasn't sure how to respond so she chose not to.

"Nothing to say?" he pushed, his arms crossed over his chest. "That's fucking rich, isn't it?"

"Excuse me?" a voice asked. It was high and obnoxious and decidedly young.

Peyton glanced away from Logan, which, oddly enough, was much more difficult to do than she thought it would be, and rested her eyes on a girl who couldn't be older than eighteen, staring at Logan with big doe-like brown eyes and a flirtatious smile on her pink lips. She could feel Logan's stare on her for a moment longer than was necessary, something she was starting to realize was common for him to do, at least with her.

"Darling," Logan began and Peyton watched as this girl, this young beautiful girl who had her entire future in front of her, was looking at Logan like he was the sky and the sun and the moon and the stars. She tittered when he called her darling. "Can't you see I'm fucking in the middle of something? Whatever you have to say can fucking wait after class so why don't you fucking scoot so I can finish this conversation with my fucking TA."

The girl's mouth dropped. Whether it was because of his dismissal or his language, Peyton wasn't sure. In reality, it shouldn't matter. But the girl spun on the heal of her foot and walked away with a huff, as though she wasn't used to being bypassed over for an older, plaid-wearing woman. Peyton didn't take it personally; she might have done the same thing when she was eighteen and infatuated with her bad boy professor at first glance.