Читать книгу Scandalous Mistress - Leslie Kelly - Страница 14
ОглавлениеALTHOUGH LINDSEY HAD never taught kids, she’d put in plenty of days as a teacher’s assistant throughout her academic career. That meant subbing for professors a lot of the time. Before starting this new job, she’d figured teaching college freshmen wouldn’t be that much different than teaching high school seniors. And really, it wasn’t.
These kindergartners, though? Oh, man. They were going to be the death of her.
“Miss Smiff, Maffew took all the gween cwayons so nobody else can color their twees.”
Blinking as she interpreted that rare dialect known as six-years-old-and-toothless, Lindsey sighed and swiped her hand through her hair. It was only first period, and she was a teacher, so a margarita was out of the question. But oh, could she use one.
After being on the job for only five days, she had already decided Callie should be canonized. Lindsey had no idea how her friend—or any of the teachers at the Wild Boar School—did it.
First off, she taught six classes a day and only had one brief planning period that wasn’t long enough to catch her breath, much less grade papers or prepare lessons. During the first period, this one, she taught all the K–3 kids. In the classroom, the kids were separated by grade into smaller work groups, and she spent the entire class period revolving between them, giving mini lectures to one while praying the others would stay on task with what she’d asked them to work on.
The kindergartners rarely did. And her classroom “assistant”—one of the moms—spent more time helping her own kid with his classwork than she did keeping things running smoothly when Lindsey’s back was turned.
After this period, she would move on to the fourth through sixth graders. Same setup. Then seventh and eighth. Ditto.
This afternoon, she’d get ninth grade biology, then tenth grade chemistry. Finally, at the very end of the day, advanced chemistry, which had eight students, all seniors, all vying to be valedictorian of their seventy-five-person graduating class.
Frankly, she’d rather have all seventy-five of those seniors in her physics class than try to have four eyes in her head to keep track of grades K-1-2-3.
“Miss Smiff, did you heaw me? Maffew’s not being vewy nice. Do you think it’s nice to keep all the gween cwayons?”
“No, it’s not very nice,” she admitted, turning away from the third graders. Again.
From the beginning, her strategy had been to connect all of her class lessons so that each group’s subject was somehow related to the others. Today, she’d been talking to the kids about plant life. Nothing along the lines of oxygenation and photosynthesis...strictly, why some trees have flowers and others don’t. But the blank expressions on the faces of the kindergartners this morning, and their fidgeting bodies, had made her give that up and go right to the old I’m-not-a-parent-and-have-no-idea-how-to-handle-little-kids standby: coloring. Specifically, coloring sheets printed with bushes, trees and flowers, most of which required green. It appeared Maffew hadn’t remembered that whole “sharing” thing.
“I’ll talk to him, Sarah.”
“I’m Emily.”
Oh. Right. She had only been on the job five days and hadn’t memorized all the kids’ names. That would have been impossible in so short a time, of course. But considering in this room alone there were four Sarahs and five Emilys, one of those two was usually a good bet if she was at a loss. For the boys? Jason and Michael.
Mike.
Even during the day, there was one Mike who just wouldn’t get out of her head... The one who’d seen her sex-toy collection and then kissed her like he wanted to use every item in it with her. The encounter they’d shared—that embrace, that kiss—wouldn’t leave her mind. Nor would the memory of the expression on his face as he’d wondered what she did with those toys when she was alone.
She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told him she wasn’t in the market for romance or relationships. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t imagine having fabulous sex with him.
It had gotten so bad that at night she’d been tempted to actually use one of those vibrators, to take the pressure off. She might have written about the Thinkgasm, might have interviewed women who could think themselves off, but she hadn’t mastered the art herself. Lying in bed fantasizing about that strong body of his, that great laugh, the amazing mouth and that hot, wonderful kiss, only made her more frustrated, and certainly didn’t do anything to relieve the tension.
She hadn’t ended up trying any of the toys, though. Despite what he’d assumed, she’d never used any of the things from that box.
She’d seen Mike around town this week, and had always stopped to say hello. He was usually putting out fires that seemed terribly important to the locals...like taking a report on somebody’s stolen trash can or coming to the school to do an anti-drinking talk with the older students. They hadn’t, however, been alone together since that unpleasant scene with his coworker Sunday morning.
She missed him. Crazy, since they’d only known each other a week, but it was true. Whenever she spotted him, her heart thumped and her pulse roared. She wanted nothing more than to find some excuse to be alone with him, even while her sensible side screamed at her not to be an idiot.
“Miss Smiff? Are you coming?”
Hearing the six-year-old’s impatience, she shook off the crazy thoughts and focused on her job. “Yes, I’m coming, Emily.”
Giving quick instructions to the third graders, she turned back to the little ones, sorted out the crayon catastrophe, and then moved through the rest of the class.
The remainder of the day was much the same. Just as she had on the previous four days, she found herself enjoying the older kids in her seventh period class. If she had an entire day of high school honors kids, she might actually choose to stick with this teaching gig for a while. It sure beat being ridiculed or made the butt of sexy jokes by the media. But the herding-cats feel of the younger groups was going to drive her nuts.
Fortunately, she’d become friendly with several of the other teachers, all of whom had been welcoming. They’d offered advice on everything from dealing with classroom misbehavior, to life on the island. Not at all to her surprise, two of them warned her about Officer Ollie Dickinson, who had a thing for pulling over single women.
At the end of the day, one of those teachers popped her head in. “You’ve survived another day!”
She smiled, remembering the pretty young woman’s name was Teresa and she taught elementary-age English. She and a few of the other teachers had taken Lindsey under their wing. “Five down.”
“Any hot plans for the weekend?”
“Did I miss a happening downtown club scene here?”
Teresa smirked. “Yeah, uh...no. You’ll have to take the ferry to the mainland for that.”
“Not a chance. I haven’t recovered from my trip over.” Even if it had allowed her to meet the amazingly sexy chief.
“Okay, well, have a great weekend!”
“Thanks,” she said, appreciating the brief check-in. It had been a nice thing to do.
For the most part, everybody on Wild Boar was just as friendly. Her landlady had made a point of stopping by with more cookies, the cashiers at the shops were always cheerful, the waitresses at the diner always laughed and chatted. It was all so very...nice.
She wished she could say she loved that, but she was too much of a big-city girl not to find it all just a little suspicious. Too much niceness made her teeth ache, and she really wished Callie were around to add a wee bit of snark to her day.
After school, wanting an injection of caffeine, she went to her favorite new haunt. The main street of the town, which bore the same name as the island, was about a mile long, and was lined mostly with walk-ups and small businesses. Mom-and-pop shops, a drugstore, a bakery, a hobby shop and a couple of restaurants operated year-round. She’d noticed signs on some of the craft and antiques businesses that said they would reopen in May, in time for tourist season.
The coffee shop, though, called The Daily Grind, was open all day, every day, and that’s where she headed. She pushed the door in, bringing a strong spring breeze with her, and the heads of everyone inside turned to watch her enter. From behind the counter, the owner, a happy-looking, middle-aged woman named Angie, smiled and called out a greeting. Nicely, of course. “Hi, Lindsey. Extra-large coffee with two creams and two sugars?”
She’d never lived in a place where the people not only knew their customers by their first names, but also remembered how they took their coffee. In Chicago, Lindsey had stopped at the same chain café near her apartment a couple of times a week for two years and had seldom seen the same barista twice.
“Sounds great.”
Angie got to work as Lindsey headed over. “How’s everything going over at the school?”
“Just fine.”
“What about Callie and the baby? Have you talked to her lately. Is he doing well?”
Nodding, Lindsey replied, “It sounds like baby William is doing much better. Callie has called me several times to give me lots of tips and advice about handling ‘her’ kids.”
“You tell her for me to stop worrying about anybody else’s little ones and just focus on her own precious angel.”
“I will,” Lindsey said, glad to hear the warmth and fondness in the older woman’s voice.
Whether Lindsey was comfortable with it or not, the niceness definitely benefited Callie. She hadn’t lived here long—two years, maybe—but the town had claimed Callie as one of their own after her marriage to Billy, a local boy. Everybody was concerned about her and the baby.
Lindsey hadn’t seen Billy since her arrival. He was either working or at the hospital, wanting to be there for his wife during these early, touch-and-go stages of their son’s life. But everywhere she went, people sang his praises, too, which made her feel more confident about her dearest friend’s life here.
“Here you go,” Angie said, pushing a white ceramic mug toward her. “T.G.I.C.”
“Huh?”
“Thank God It’s Caffeinated.”
She grinned, liking the woman, and replied, “You’ve got that right.”
Taking her coffee, she headed to an empty café table in the back. The shop had free wireless internet access, one of the few places on Wild Boar that did. Since she hadn’t had time to get anybody to come out to the cottage to wire her up, and the school’s wireless blocked a lot of sites to keep the kids off social media during the school day, she had to do her emailing and catching up on Facebook from here.
Opening her laptop, she booted it up, sipped the hot coffee and glanced around the shop. She recognized a few faces. There were two other teachers, at whom she smiled. A couple of strangers offered her cautious but friendly nods, obviously knowing who she was. A trio of her honors students sprawled in a circle of lounge chairs in the front window, chatting and using their laptops. They waved at her with enthusiasm.
“We’re doing our homework,” one of them, a pretty blond-haired girl, called from across the room.
“Sure you are,” she replied with a wry lift of a brow. “Just don’t rely on Twitter to help with next week’s exam.”
The kids laughed good-naturedly, going back to their conversation, and Lindsey began to flip through her email. She immediately deleted the dozen interview requests that had come in since yesterday. Also deleted were the obligatory penis-enlarging, Russian bride and overseas finance minister scams.
That left her with two emails, one of which was from Callie. Attached to it was a picture of the baby, so tiny in his incubator. At least she could see him now, unlike when she’d gone to visit at the hospital ten days ago. His precious face had been covered with a mask, his body frail and weak-looking. He appeared much stronger now, bigger, too, and judging by the tone of her friend’s email, was growing beautifully. That made Lindsey’s whole Wild Boar ordeal worthwhile, in her opinion.
Surfing onto Facebook, she checked her private page, accessible only to real friends. She’d deleted her professional one when the comments had gotten absolutely unbearable.
Once she’d finished her online stuff, she slowly sipped her coffee, somehow loath to leave this little slice of society and return to her quiet, empty house. After living in Chicago for several years, she just wasn’t used to silence. She had never felt more alone than she had since this move, not having had one visitor since Mike left on Saturday.
By four, she realized she couldn’t take up a table while continuing to nurse one cup of coffee, so she began to pack up her stuff to leave. She unzipped her laptop case and slid her computer into it, paying no attention to the ringing of the bell over the coffee shop door.
At least, not at first.
Then she heard Angie greet the newcomer. And she could do nothing else but pay attention as the dark-haired, dark-eyed man in khaki walked in and headed to the counter.
“Howya doin’, Chief?” asked Angie.
It was the very person she’d been unable to stop thinking about. The very one she’d had those wild and wicked dreams about.
The very one she needed to avoid.
“Good, thanks.” Mike Santori offered the woman a slight smile and a nod, looking around and giving the same casual greeting to everyone else.
Until his eyes landed on Lindsey. With her he didn’t smile, nod and move on. Instead, his eyes widened and his mouth parted on a quick inhalation that she could almost hear.
Her heart thudded and her stomach churned. She realized her hand was shaking when her nearly empty coffee mug rattled enough to splash a small amount of lukewarm coffee against her fingers. Lowering it, she forced herself to take a steadying breath. She was going to be here for weeks; she needed to get used to running into him. She simply couldn’t afford to be embarrassed about what had happened between them on Saturday.
It’s not embarrassment.
She tried to hush the voice in her head, even as she acknowledged it was right. Yes, there was some embarrassment about the things he’d witnessed, and the fact that she’d fallen into his arms so soon after they’d met. But mostly what she felt when she saw Mike Santori was this strange, urgent tension. Currently her blood was gushing and a sort of electric energy surged through her, making the hairs on her arms stand up. Her foot was tapping on the floor, her fingers doing the same on the table, as if she just needed to move.
It was awareness. Attraction, too. She hadn’t been able to get Mike out of her mind since the moment they’d met.
“Here you go, Chief,” Angie said, handing him a foam cup with a lid. Obviously he was taking his to go.
Lindsey held her breath, wondering if he would leave without a word to her. After everything they’d said on Saturday, about how neither of them was interested in any romantic entanglements, what they should do was continue exchanging nothing more than those polite smiles in public. If he actually sat with her and started a conversation, the gossipers would have them engaged by midnight.
She knew that, knew she should be hoping he’d turn around and leave. But instead, something inside her blossomed and warmed at the idea of him sitting in the empty seat at her table. And within fifteen seconds, he was.
“Is this seat taken?”
“You’ve just taken it,” she pointed out, trying, unsuccessfully, to hide a smile at that fact.
“True.” He sipped his coffee, eyeing her over the cup. “How are you doing, Lindsey?”
“Fine, thanks. No more seasickness.”
“The island doesn’t move quite as much as the ferry did.” There was a twinkle in those brown eyes, and little crinkles beside them. The guy whose very career should make him dour, was quick-to-smile, instead. She liked that about him. Among the many things she liked about him.
His mouth, his hands, his body.
His kiss. Oh, good lord did the man know how to kiss!
She shook off the thoughts and replied, “That’s good. I doubt I’d survive another sea voyage anytime soon.”
“Are you settling into the cottage okay?”
“It’s a little drafty,” she admitted. “Being close to the lake, those watery winds tend to sift through the eaves. But I’ve got lots of blankets on my bed.”
Shit, Lindsey. Don’t talk about your bed with this man. Because, if you do, the look on your face will make it clear to everyone in the room that you wouldn’t mind if he shared that bed.
Fortunately, Mike didn’t take the opening she’d so stupidly left there. Probably because, unlike Saturday, they were surrounded by curious busybodies.
He leaned over the table, keeping his voice low. “Have you had any more problems with...anybody?”
“Not a one,” she said, knowing he was referring to his obnoxious junior officer.
“Good. I’ve been trying to keep him busy.”
“I appreciate it.”
He nodded and asked, “What about the job? How’s school?”
“It’s okay,” she said, lifting her own cup. “Different.”
“You know, you mentioned that you’re not regularly a teacher, but you never did tell me what your real job is.”
He waited. She didn’t respond, trying to figure out how to answer the unasked question.
Finally, he said, “Okay, state secret.”
“No, it’s not,” she said, feeling stupid. But yes, it is. “I’m sort of unemployed right now. That’s why this substitute position worked out so well, for me and for Callie.”
“Where did you work before?”
“In Chicago.” She’d intentionally misinterpreted the question, sticking to geography.
That appeared to surprise him. Obviously he hadn’t read her license very closely last week when he’d pulled her over. “Really? Me, too.”
“Oh!” He’d mentioned he was a recent transplant. Dumb of her to never ask where he’d come from. “Where did you live?”
“Little Italy. Near the university. I worked for the Chicago P.D.”
Now she was one who was surprised. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. I started when I was twenty as a beat cop. Kept going to college at night, worked my way up. After I finished school, I landed my detective shield.”
“You were a Chicago Police detective, and now you’re...”
“Chief of the Tinytown Police Department?” He sighed, sounding rueful. “Yep. And, before you ask, it was my choice. I didn’t get fired for taking bribes or anything of that sort.”
“That thought never crossed my mind.” She might not know him well—yet—but she was already sure Mike Santori was one of the good guys. “Are you happy with your decision?”
“I guess. It hasn’t all been chocolate-chip cookies and helping old ladies cross the street, you know.”
“I’ll bet.”
“There are some really big pluses to living here rather than in Chicago, especially in my line of work.”
“Such as?”
“Not getting shot at.”
She winced, hating the idea of it. His tone might be light, but his expression was very serious. He had been shot at. Given the crime statistics of her home city, that wasn’t surprising. She even knew a few civilians who’d been shot at and couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be a cop in such a dangerous city. She sent up a mental prayer of thanks that he’d gotten out, and not just because she was glad to have met him.
“That’s always a bonus,” she replied, keeping things light, not asking the questions she was dying to ask—namely, who, what, when, where and why. “Is there anything else you enjoy?”
“Well, although I miss them, I do sort of enjoy being fairly sure I’m not going to run into some member of my family every damn time I leave my house.”
She couldn’t contain a small laugh. “Only fairly sure?”
“A posse of them will show up here one of these days. I’m the first Santori to move further than fifty miles away from Chicago.”
“So you have a big family?”
“Enormous.”
She considered that, wondering what it would be like. Being an only child of pretty screwed-up parents, who’d seldom worried about feeding or clothing the one kid they had, she suspected it was a good thing she didn’t have any siblings. Callie was like a sister to her, and Callie’s family, though almost as poor as her own, had provided her with a lot of the love and warmth she’d missed out on at home.
The lack of money made some people desperate and cold, while it made others far more appreciative of the things—and people—they did have. Thankfully, Callie’s folks had been the grateful sort, with hearts big enough to welcome a kid whose parents were not.
Suddenly thinking about Mike’s last name, and remembering a restaurant she’d gone to a couple of times in the city, she asked, “Are you related to the Santoris who own a pizza joint on Taylor Avenue?”
He nodded. “My Uncle Tony and Aunt Rosa founded it. My cousin Tony runs it now, with his wife, Gloria.”
“Great food.”
“I know.” He shook his head mournfully. “I haven’t had a decent slice of pizza since I moved here. The only Italian place on the island is run by a family named Fitzpatrick.”
“Irish-Italian. That’s a good combination, so I hear.” She immediately told herself to forget the fact that she was about seventy-five percent Irish and he looked about as Italian as the Godfather’s Godfather.
“They have corned-beef-and-cabbage calzone on the menu.”
She snorted. Realizing he wasn’t even smiling—and was, in fact, serious, she thought about it and mused, “Actually, that sounds pretty fantastic.”
“That’s it. You’re banned from Italy for life.”
“Dang. And it’s on my bucket list, too.”
“Maybe you just need to learn how to appreciate real Italian food,” he told her, his brown eyes warming. “I’m a great cook.”
Her heart fluttered. To busy her hands, she reached for her cup and toyed with the handle, scraping the tip of her finger across the smooth edge. “Really?”
“My mom regretted not having a daughter to pass her secret recipes on to, so she taught me and both my brothers a few of her specialties.”
Brothers. Plural. More Mikes in the world? Good grief.
“I could...”
“Chief, there you are!”
Lindsey jerked her attention to the barrel-chested man who suddenly appeared beside their small table. She couldn’t help wondering just what Mike had been about to say before they were interrupted. I could...cook for you? Teach you? Give you ten kinds of orgasm in twenty minutes?
She’d never know. And that was just as well. Because as she glanced around the shop, she noticed they were being stared at by everyone in it. She’d prefer to believe it had been the loud proclamation of the man who’d interrupted them that had called the patrons’ attention, but she seriously doubted it. If she could go back in time thirty seconds, she’d bet she would still see those same wide-eyed, titillated faces watching their table.
“I have to talk to you about that no-parking zone out in front of my shop.”
Probably about sixty, the stranger had iron-gray hair, cut military close, and a broad face, half-hidden behind a bushy beard. Why he’d chosen to cut the hair off his head only to grow it on his face, she had no idea, but the result was a little jarring.
Mike rose to his feet with a heavy sigh, as if he’d had this conversation before. “Mr. Winpigler, you know I can’t change the zoning and let you park vehicles out front, not when there’s a fire hydrant practically right outside your door.”
“That hydrant is in a very inconvenient location!”
“I’ll bet you wouldn’t say that if your shop caught fire.”
Lindsey put her hand over her mouth to hide a chuckle. Mike certainly had the other man there.
“I still want to talk about it. That is, if you can tear yourself away.” The man spared a quick look at Lindsey, a look she didn’t like. It was assessing, a little dismissive, as if she were some bimbo distracting the chief from his oh-so-important job settling parking space disputes.
She got up, grabbing her purse and her laptop case. “I should go.”
Mike glanced at her, and then around the room. Finally noticing they were the center of attention—and not just because the local business owner had a loud mouth—he didn’t try to talk her into staying. “Nice running into you,” he said with an impersonal nod, as if they barely knew each other.
Nice try. She doubted it would help. A ten-minute conversation had landed them on the local radar; people would be talking about their coffee-shop interlude all weekend.
It was ridiculous to think something so innocent could bring about any kind of scandal. But this was a small town. She’d spent part of her childhood in one, and was familiar with how things worked. No, she wasn’t the daughter of a drunk and a drug addict here in Wild Boar, but she was an outsider. And considering she was the new teacher—the protector of all the innocent minds of their precious children—and Mike was the chief of police—responsible for their safety—of course she and Mike were going to be living under everyone’s watchful eye.
The last thing she needed right now was to draw any more attention to herself; she’d had quite enough of that in recent months. Nor did she want to reflect badly on Callie, who would have to live amongst these people long after Lindsey was gone, back in her real life and her real career.
There was also Mike’s new job to consider. He had to be on shaky ground this early in his employment. Considering he’d left Chicago to save his very life, how could she possibly do anything that would put his new job at risk?
That wasn’t all. This place wasn’t cut off from the rest of the world—she’d just spent an hour on the internet, for heaven’s sake! If people started talking about her and Mike, might somebody not decide they wanted to learn a little more about the new schoolteacher? Luckily Lindsey Smith was a very common name, and it wouldn’t be that easy to find her. Still, somebody who was really determined certainly could, and they’d find a lot of snarky humor and nasty innuendo that she just couldn’t deal with right now. Next she’d get the same treatment from the people on the island—she’d no longer be Callie’s nice friend who was pitching in at the school, she’d be a sex fiend who might warp the minds of their precious little angels.
So yeah, it was time to get out of the café, far away from Mike Santori and his dark, dreamy eyes and soft, sexy mouth. She needed to escape his temptation, the kind that was making her forget she was here to lie low and escape being talked about because of sex and orgasms...even if all she could think about when he was around was having sex and orgasms.
Nodding at Mike and his irate citizen, she hurried past them, mumbling, “Thanks for the information, Chief Santori.”
Right—loads of information. She now knew not to shop at Mr. Loudmouth’s store, and what kind of calzone to order from the local pizzeria. The most important bit of information she’d gotten from Mike, however, was that he was one hell of a great guy.
“Bye, Lindsey!” the woman behind the counter called.
The goodbye was echoed by Lindsey’s students, who, unlike the adults in the place, appeared more interested in their online activities than in her personal ones, thank goodness.
Hurrying outside, she immediately turned toward the municipal parking lot, which was located behind the public school. She’d discovered, just as Mike had warned, that the parking situation at the school was terrible. Not because there were that many cars, but there were simply too few spaces. So she’d taken to leaving her Prius in the town lot. When tourist season started, that might be a problem, but for now, her cute yellow car sat entirely alone in the lot, looking like a sunny-side-up egg in the middle of a cast-iron skillet.
Reaching the driver’s side, she searched for her keys. She remembered she’d dropped them into her laptop bag instead of her purse this morning, and flipped it open. As she dug around in the side pocket, she realized someone was calling her name.
“Lindsey, wait up!”
She glanced over the hood of her car, seeing Mike walking toward her across the parking lot. Damn. So much for a clean getaway. What was he thinking, following her like this? He had to have noticed how much attention they’d been drawing inside.
“What can I do for you, Chief?”
“We didn’t finish our conversation.”
“Yes, we did.”
“I was about to offer you a home-cooked meal.”
“And I was about to decline,” she insisted, still digging for the elusive keys. In fact, she dug so forcefully, the shoulder strap of her laptop case slipped, and she dropped the whole thing onto the ground.
“Damn it,” she said, nervous and irritated, wondering why the man flustered her so. She just prayed the bag’s padding had prevented any damage to the equipment inside.
“Calm down,” he ordered, reaching her car as she bent to grab her bag. “We’re not being watched by the secret police.”
She scanned the area, frowning. “We are, however, being watched by the kids over there on the basketball court, the old man walking his dog across the street and the woman pushing the baby stroller at the intersection.”
He turned his head to look, obviously realizing she was not exaggerating. Even from several feet away, she noted that his jaw flexed as he clenched it. His broad shoulders also stiffened, his body radiating frustration.
“We’ve both already realized that if we talk to each other we’re going to draw attention, and neither of us wants that,” she said. “So I should just get out of here.”
“Christ,” he muttered. “Why can’t people mind their own business? This is worse than my family.”
“We’re both newcomers, and we’re both in positions that the public feels they have a right to comment on,” she said, blowing out her own frustrated breath. “You don’t want them to say that their new chief is distracted by a pretty face.”
That had come out wrong, made her sound cocky, and she hadn’t intentionally been trying to pay herself a compliment. But he was smart enough to figure out what she’d been trying to say. “I also don’t want them to believe their kids’ new teacher is a... What did you call me? A sex addict?”
He winced. “I apologized for that, didn’t I?”
“Yes. At any rate, I need to go home, and you need to stay here. Plus, we both agreed we weren’t looking for any romantic entanglements.”
“I’m not talking about tangling you.”
A twinkle in his eye said he’d considered saying something else. Maybe something about doing more than tangling, like, say, tying. Or handcuffing.
Good lord, she’d never in a million years thought that fantasy would appeal to her. Something about Mike, though, knowing how strong yet protective he was, how decent, made her wonder about it. Made her, in fact, a little melty-limbed.
She stiffened those limbs, and her resolve. “We both said...”
“I remember what I said. But maybe I’m getting a little tired of worrying about what other people will think. I shouldn’t have to check over my shoulder every time I have a conversation.”
“I can certainly understand that,” she said. She’d only been here a week and she already felt stifled. She couldn’t imagine how bad it was for him.
“If I’m going to make a life here, I need to start living it on my terms.”
A life here. He’d seemed to be on the fence before, but now he sounded like he really intended to stay on Wild Boar. For someone like Mike—with a huge family, born and bred in Chicago—it was a pretty dramatic decision. His old job must have really been dangerous for this to be the future he chose.
“So what do you say?”
“What changed from last week when you weren’t interested?”
“Oh, honey, I was interested the moment I set eyes on you on that ferry,” he assured her, the warmth in his voice matching the warmth in his eyes.
She crossed her arms and hugged herself, determined not to let that admission lower her guard.
“The truth is, I’ve been thinking about the kind of woman I might be looking for. Not just for sex, but for more than that, and every minute I’ve spent with you has made me want you that much more.”
He wasn’t just talking about a fling? He wanted to pursue something more serious with her? The realization left her reeling.
“I always seemed to end up with the wrong type in Chicago, but maybe the right type might be right in front of my face.”
“What type might that be?” she asked, interested despite herself. What was Mike really looking for?
“Somebody trustworthy.”
Check.
“Somebody smart, adventurous. Nice.”
Yep. Yep. Sometimes.
So far, so good.
“Somebody who wants the simple things and isn’t so busy climbing a corporate ladder she can’t spare a minute of compassion for anybody else.”
That sounded like a story. Before she could ask him about it, though, he continued.
“A small-town teacher who’s gorgeous and funny as hell seems to fit the bill.”
Small-town teacher? Simple? Not a ladder-climber?
Oy. Those definitely didn’t describe her. It might sound like the Lindsey he was getting to know, but he didn’t know the real woman.
Sadness stabbed her, because, the truth was, if he did meet the real her, he probably wouldn’t be interested anymore.
“So?” He stepped closer. “Give me a chance. Give us a chance.”
She let out a heavy sigh.
She wasn’t the kind of woman he wanted. She was too susceptible to his charm, already too eager to spend time with him. But if he asked her to come over so he could cook her dinner, she’d probably stay through breakfast, and they both knew it.
She did not want to be the kindergarten teacher who did the walk of shame a week after her arrival in the nicest town on earth. Especially because, after the sex, she greatly feared she’d still be left with the liking, the admiration, all the damned emotions she didn’t want to have about any man she slept with.
And when he found out who she really was, what she really did and why she was here, he probably wouldn’t have any feelings toward her at all. Other than resentment or anger if she ended up costing him a job he needed and wanted.
No. It couldn’t happen. They couldn’t work.
“I’m sorry, Mike,” she said, pleading with her eyes for him not to press her. “I just can’t.”
He stared at her in silence, watching her face, as if to gauge her determination. She sensed he was disappointed in her, even though she’d been honest from the beginning about what she was here for...and what she was not here for. He might have had the kind of week that made him change his mind. She hadn’t.
“All right,” he said with a resigned shrug. “You win.”
No, actually, she hadn’t won. In fact, she greatly feared they had both lost something. But considering where she was at this point in her life, there was really nothing she could do about it. Which just might break her heart, even if she didn’t have the guts to open it up and let a smart, sexy guy into it.
