Читать книгу Consequences - Margot Dalton - Страница 8

JIM WHITLEY GRIPPED his hat and stared at the slim blond woman across the desk.

He’d already heard a whole lot about Luciana Osborne. It seemed there was no shortage of folks in this town who were fascinated by the woman and who were more than happy to discuss her when they learned he was applying for the teaching position at her school.

Part of the appeal was her aura of mystery, since nobody seemed to know where she came from, or how she spent her time outside of school, even whether she’d ever had a boyfriend.

Many of the young bucks around town had decided the beautiful school principal was gay, mostly because when they tried their personal charms on her, they were always rebuffed.

Jim grinned privately, thinking about Joe Dan Williams, who swaggered around town in a muscle shirt and tight jeans, and simply couldn’t believe a woman existed who was able to resist him.

Across the desk, Luciana Osborne apparently misunderstood his grin and glanced up at him with quick suspicion. She got to her feet and leaned over to shake his hand, her beautiful face cool and remote.

“Mr. Whitley?” she said. “My name is Lucia Osborne. Thank you for coming today.”

“My pleasure, ma’am. Definitely my pleasure.” Jim smiled at her again, and was surprised to see a tiny flush on her pale sculpted cheekbones.

She was tall, almost able to look him in the eye though he stood a couple of inches above six feet. Her blond hair was shining, clipped short and combed behind her ears in a boyish style that looked both simple and elegant. Her eyes were ice blue, and her face was finely molded, like a marble statue in some Greek temple.

Her body was slim and nicely rounded, with high shapely breasts under a demure white silk blouse buttoned all the way to her chin. While Jim could certainly appreciate her beauty and grace, two things about her struck him as really remarkable.

One was her commanding presence, and the other was her mouth.

Lucia Osborne had a kind of dignity and style, an air of cool composure that he found instantly appealing. This was a confident woman with both feet on the ground, who wouldn’t take guff from anyone. If you ever won her heart, you’d have a treasure beyond price.

But she wouldn’t be easy, you could tell that right away by those frosty blue eyes with their look of guarded caution.

Her mouth, though, was another matter altogether. It was wide and inviting, soft and generous, and lifted just a bit at the corners as if she found life secretly amusing. Luciana Osborne, for all her dignity and icy reserve, had a mouth made for kissing.

The more Jim stood looking at her, the more he had to restrain himself from leaping the desk, sweeping her into his arms and devouring that sweetly curved mouth…

All his wayward male fantasies dissipated like mist in the sunrise when she sat behind the desk in a businesslike manner and folded her hands.

“Mr. Whitley, please sit down so we can discuss your application. For openers, I’m really not sure if you’re suitable for this position.”

He levered his long body into a chair and watched her across the desk, holding his hat on his knee. “Not suitable? In what way?”

She put on a pair of reading glasses and flipped through his application.

Lucia Osborne had the role down pat. She knew all the lines and mannerisms. In fact, she looked pretty damned convincing, and there was no doubt she was good at her job.

But somewhere deep in her eyes he caught a flash of the woman who lived within, the one who probably laughed when she was by herself, and maybe even sang aloud. A woman who felt lonely sometimes, and perhaps even scared of the heavy responsibility of running this school.

Get a grip, cowboy, he told himself, shifting in the chair. Don’t start letting your imagination run away with you.

In fact, this was often a problem for Jim Whitley. He had a warm easy manner, and a vivid imagination that sometimes caused him to endow other people, especially women, with qualities they didn’t really possess. In the past, these mistakes had caused him a lot of painful disappointment, and now he tended to be more wary.

She gestured at his application with a slim hand.

Jim realized he also really liked her hands. The nails were neatly trimmed and free of polish, and she wore no rings at all.

He pictured himself lifting that hand and kissing the tips of each pink finger, then…

“You have a rather erratic employment history,” she said.

He grinned and leaned back in the chair, extending his long denim-clad legs. “Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he admitted cheerfully. “You might say I’m a bit of a rolling stone.”

“Well, I’m really looking for somebody a little more stable.” She took off her reading glasses and gazed at him directly. “This is a very difficult class, Mr. Whitley. They’re bright, lively students, but there are thirty-two in the class. They need somebody with enough commitment to bring them under control and keep them in line.”

“Then I’m your man. I’ll have them shaped up in no time.”

“I see. And how will you do that?” she asked.

“I’m a teacher, Ms. Osborne,” he told her calmly. “I know how to deal with a tough group of students. As you can see in my application, I’ve never had any kind of discipline problems.”

“But this class needs more than a strict disciplinarian.” The principal frowned again at the papers in front of her. “They also need to have their test scores brought up at least eight basis points, because they’re the lowest in the school. They bring down our average. And right now,” she added, her face clouding, “we need the highest average we can possibly muster.”

“Why?” he asked, surprised by her sudden look of tension. “What’s so important about test scores right now?”

She ignored his question. “Now, about your previous experience—”

“Is there anything in my application that leads you to believe I can’t raise their test scores?” he asked.

The flush mounted on the pale curve of her cheek. Jim watched its soft color with interest, wondering again what was bothering her.

“I just…” She waved her hand at the forms on her desk and searched for words, something he suspected she didn’t have to do very often.

“You’re wondering why I never stay in one place very long,” he said to help her.

“Yes, in fact I am. You’ve apparently done a good job at quite a number of schools, Mr. Whitley, yet you keep moving on. And it seems there are a number of years when you haven’t taught at all.”

“A number of years?” He raised an eyebrow at her, unable to resist the urge to tease, though he suspected he might pay for it later.

But she wasn’t about to banter with him. “You graduated from A & M, getting an education degree with distinction when you were twenty-one,” the principal said. “In the fifteen years since then, it appears to me that you’ve worked about eight school terms, or slightly more than half the time. What do you do when you’re not teaching, Mr. Whitley?”

Jim couldn’t keep from staring at those soft curving lips…

“What do you do when you’re not being a principal, Ms. Osborne?”

Again that enchanting shadow of color touched her cheeks, as soft and lovely as the bloom on a wild rose, or the first colors of dawn painting the eastern sky.

“I’m not the one applying for employment,” she said stiffly. “So I hardly need to—”

“You’re right.” Jim repented again when he saw how uncomfortable he was making her. “You’re absolutely right. And I’ll answer your question, ma’am. What I do when I’m not teaching is travel the rodeo circuit.”

“Rodeo?” she repeated blankly, as if he’d said he was an elephant trainer. “A schoolteacher who travels to rodeos?”

“It’s not as rare as you’d think.” Jim gave her a sunny smile, wishing she could relax and smile back at him. “There are a lot of guys like me who love teaching, but also love the rodeo. Teaching is certainly a more secure way to make a living. Plus, if a guy ever makes the huge error of getting married and tied down,” he added, his smile broadening, “at least he’s got the whole summer free to take in some local rodeos here and there.”

“I see. But you seem to take more than the summers.”

“I’ve never been tied down,” he said casually, “though I came close a few times, back in my wild and careless youth. What I like to do is take a year off now and then to hit the road full-time. I travel the western states and up into Canada and collect enough points to qualify for the national finals in Las Vegas. Years when I’m feeling lazy, or when I’m packing some kind of injury, I just settle down somewhere and teach school for a couple of semesters.”

“It sounds like a very pleasant life,” she said.

Jim examined the woman’s face closely. There was something at the back of her eyes…

“What’s wrong?” he asked abruptly, forgetting the purpose of the interview.

“I…don’t know what you mean.”

“You look like you’ve been crying,” he said, “or at least trying hard not to. Is there something bothering you?”

“Nothing that’s any concern of yours.” Her face was remote again, devoid of expression, and she riffled briskly through the papers on her desk. “Now, about this job application…”

He got up, holding his hat. “Ms. Osborne,” he said gently.

She looked up at him in surprise.

“You know, and I know,” Jim said, “that I’m the best applicant you’re going to get. We both know I can handle those kids, and give you the kind of results you need. So let’s just dispense with all the preliminaries and get me on the payroll. Then I can start helping you with this class, and also move into some kind of permanent residence.”

He thought she’d fire up at that and object to being pushed around, but she didn’t. She just nodded thoughtfully and looked at the papers under her hands.

“Where are you living now?” she asked.

“I’m staying out at J. T. McKinney’s ranch, in the guest house. Cal McKinney’s been a friend of mine since we were both kids,” Jim added with a fond, reminiscent smile. “You wouldn’t believe the kind of hell we used to get into.”

“Yes, I’ve met Cal, and I’m sure I would believe it.” This time, he thought there might actually be a trace of a smile deep in those blue eyes. “So you don’t intend to keep living at the Double C?”

“It’s been real good of them to have me, but I think J.T. and Cynthia would like their guest house back soon. The idea was that I’d stay there until I found a job. And since I have a job now,” he added calmly, “it’s time for me to move out.”

“If I choose to offer you this position,” she told him with a brief show of spirit, though both of them knew she was ready to give in, “where would you move? There aren’t a lot of rental places available in Crystal Creek, you know.”

“I already talked to June Pollock,” he said. “We were neighbors as kids, and we’ve always been friends. She has a big old house down by the river, with a nice second-floor apartment she’s willing to rent out. So I’ll just go over there and tell her—”

“June Pollock?” the woman interrupted him. Her air of cool reserve had deserted her for a moment and she looked almost panicky. “You’re planning to live in the Pollock house?”

“Why not?” Jim fitted his hat on his head and paused by the door, watching her curiously. “Is that against some kind of school regulation?”

“Of course not. It’s just that…” The principal bit her lip and looked down at her hands, folded tensely on the desktop. “I happen to…I live in June Pollock’s house myself, in the third-floor apartment.”

“No kidding?” He stared at her in astonishment. “Well, I didn’t know that, Ms. Osborne. June never said a word about it.”

“June’s not exactly what you’d call a chatty person,” Lucia said dryly.

“No,” he agreed. “June’s not chatty.” He smiled at her bent head, and the delicate line of her neck with its glossy tendrils of short hair. “So you live there, too. I’ll be damned.”

“Mr. Whitley…”

“It’ll be fun,” he told her with an easy grin. “You can make friends with my dog and take her for walks. We’ll have popcorn in the evening and play Scrabble. I’m a hell of a Scrabble player, you know.”

“I’m afraid we’ll do nothing of the sort.” She gave him a cold, dismissive glance designed to chill any man right to the bone. “I’ll call you if I decide to offer you the job, Mr. Whitley.”

Jim responded with another sunny grin and tipped his hat at her, then moved toward the door.

“Mr. Whitley,” she said behind him.

“Yes, ma’am?” He paused and turned.

“Which is it this time?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You said you tended to stop traveling and teach school for a year whenever you felt lazy or had been injured. I wondered which of those might be the case at this moment.”

“I got a real nasty groin pull at the Mesquite rodeo last month when I was thrown from a bareback bronc. Couldn’t walk for two weeks, and it still hurts a lot. I won’t be in serious competitive shape again for months, probably not until spring.”

“Oh.”

Her glance dropped involuntarily to the crotch of his jeans, and his grin broadened when he saw the way her face turned bright pink with embarrassment.

“It’s getting a lot better,” he said, trying to keep his voice sober. “As my prospective employer, you’ll be glad to know my injury doesn’t interfere with any important activities.”

Her flush deepened. “Good day, Mr. Whitley,” she said coldly, looking away from his teasing smile. “I’ll call you as soon as I’ve spoken with the school board and reached a decision.”

“Thanks. I’ll be waiting.” He let himself out of the office and strolled through the halls of the school to his truck, whistling softly.

JIM SAT at the McKinney dinner table a few nights later, enjoying the warm ebb and flow of family conversation. Both Cal and his brother, Tyler, had brought their families to J.T.’s home for dinner, and the laughter of young children seemed to fill the big house.

J. T. McKinney was in his element, presiding at the head of the table. As long as Jim had known him, the lean handsome rancher had been the heart and soul of Crystal Creek, the man they all looked up to and depended on.

About seven years ago J.T. had suffered a scary heart attack, but his new young wife was taking great care of him and nowadays he looked as tanned and fit as ever.

Not that Cynthia McKinney was either new, or all that young anymore.

Jim smiled at his beautiful blond hostess across the table. Though not much older than her husband’s adult children, Cynthia had been married to J.T. for almost a decade and was in her mid-forties now, with a six-year-old daughter of her own. Jennifer was about the same age as J.T.’s lively brood of grandkids.

Life at the Double C ranch was warm, happy and busy, full of family love and closeness. Sometimes being here made Jim feel a little wistful.

He didn’t regret his years of travel and the things he’d seen and done. But there were moments when he found himself thinking about everything he was missing.

“Jim, how did your interview go?” Cynthia asked.

“Just fine, thanks.” He took a sip of fine Double C cabernet, made right here at the McKinney winery. “I think I’ve probably got the job, so I’ll be clearing out of your guest house soon.”

“What job is that?” Cal’s wife, Serena, frowned at one of her twin sons who was sitting on the floor near her chair, trying to insert a whole stuffed toy into his mouth.

“Jim’s applying for the vacant teaching job at the middle school,” Cynthia told the group. “He went to see Lucia Osborne on Monday.”

Cal shuddered dramatically and punched his friend’s shoulder. “The Ice Lady? Poor ol’ Jim. That’s one chilly woman, you know. I could never warm her up, and God knows I tried.”

His pretty wife glared at him, making Cal throw back his head and laugh aloud.

“It was way before I married you, darlin’,” he assured Serena solemnly. “Back in the dark days of my youth.” Still grinning, he kissed her lustily in front of everybody.

The table erupted in laughter while J.T. helped himself to another slice of lean roast beef under his wife’s watchful eye.

“I’ve been hearing down at the Longhorn,” he said casually, “that Lucia Osborne might have more to worry about than hiring some broken-down rodeo cowboy to teach in her school.”

“What else has she got to worry about?” Tyler’s wife asked, looking a little harried. Autumn was a busy time at the winery, and much of its operation was Ruth’s responsibility. “Lucia Osborne’s got no kids, no husband, no house to look after…”

“And soon she may have no job, either.” J.T. poured a dribble of gravy on his beef, then smiled apologetically at his wife, who shook her head with gentle reproof.

“No job?” Cal asked. “What’s that all about, Daddy? I thought Lucia was doing a great job at that school.”

“She is, but it seems she’s made some enemies around town. And one of them,” he added grimly, “is that damn Gloria Wall.”

“Gloria Wall is a small-minded, hypocritical troublemaker,” Ruth said firmly, surprising everyone. Tyler’s gentle wife didn’t normally make such harsh pronouncements.

“Well, Ruthie,” Tyler said, grinning at her. “Now, honey, what brought that on?”

Ruth looked down at her plate. “I just don’t like the woman. Remember back when we first started selling our wine, and Gloria got it into her head that we were getting uppity or something? She spread rumors all over the Hill Country that McKinney wine was made with musty grapes and could cause disease. It cut into our sales a whole lot the first year. I could never believe you all were so casual about it.”

“California girls tend to hold grudges,” Tyler told the group around the table, hugging his wife fondly. “Now, in Texas, if somebody does us wrong, we either shoot him or forget him.”

Ruth chuckled and disengaged herself to go feed her newest baby, now squalling faintly from his bassinet in the morning room.

Jim thought about the druggist’s wife. “How can Gloria Wall do any harm to Lucia Osborne?” he asked.

“Those two women don’t like each other,” J.T. said. “Never have, as far as I can tell, though I don’t rightly know why.”

“It’s because Lucia’s so beautiful,” Serena said, “and so classy. The way she dresses and carries herself, she probably makes Gloria feel like poor white trash. But I’m sure Lucia’s not even aware of the effect she has on people.”

“I still don’t see how…” Jim began.

“Gloria’s the chairwoman of the school board,” J.T. told his guest. “And the word around town is that she’s pushing the board to close the middle school next year and bus the kids over to Holly Grove.”

Cynthia looked up in alarm at her husband. “Close our middle school? J.T., that’s preposterous.”

“Gloria Wall is a preposterous woman,” J.T. said grimly. “But she’ll still get lots of support for this crack-brained idea. The town’s been failing in recent years, lots of folks moving to the city. It makes for a heavy tax burden on the ones who stay behind.”

“And if you tell folks they can cut their taxes by getting rid of a school, they’ll go along with it?” Serena asked in disbelief.

“Damn right they will,” Cal told his wife.

Cynthia shook her head, looking troubled. “Oh, dear,” she said. “There’s going to be a terrible fight in town over this. Will we even have a chance to vote on it before they close the school?”

“From what I hear, the school board is planning to take it to plebiscite in the spring,” J.T. said.

“After Gloria’s had time to poison the minds of everybody in the county,” Tyler added bitterly.

“But it all comes down to Lucia Osborne.” J.T. made a wry face as he accepted a dish of low-fat ice cream from Lettie Mae Reese, the Double C’s longtime cook.

“Why does it all come down to her?” Jim asked, thinking about the slim quiet woman behind her big desk.

“Lucia’s the one who’s got to rally the town and convince these people her school and her job are worth saving,” J.T. said. “With somebody like Gloria Wall nipping at her heels, she’s going to have to watch herself every step of the way. She sure can’t afford to make any mistakes this winter.”