Читать книгу His Most Scandalous Secret - Susan Crosby, Susan Crosby - Страница 8

Two

Chase knew the minute that Tessa arrived at the Center for her first day at work. He didn’t leave his office to greet her, but let her go to the day care center on her own.

The Center hummed with talk of her. She’d attained sainthood with just one miracle.

“Good morning.”

He turned from the window. She hadn’t gone to day care first, after all. There she stood, in a denim jumper, a baby blue T-shirt that matched her eyes, and sneakers painted with teddy bears and balloons. Head to toe, she looked like a preschool teacher.

“Morning,” he said. “Are you ready for this?”

“You bet. I hardly slept last night, I was so excited.” She leaned against the door frame, as if she had all the time in the world, not the three minutes she really did have before she should be reporting to Chandra.

“I posted a sign-up sheet for your self-defense class,” he said. “It hadn’t been up an hour before it was half-full. I expect that by the end of the day, it’ll be a sellout.”

“You can schedule two or three sessions if you want, in order to fill the demand. I’ll be concentrating more on awareness than technique, and smaller groups would work better. I’d also prefer coed.”

“We pretty much do everything coed here. I don’t believe in segregating them. The only way the Center can be successful is to have everyone a part of everything, like a family. We preach tolerance. We try to elevate everyone’s self-esteem. If we don’t, we lose the girls to single motherhood and the boys to gangs.”

Soft. Her eyes were so soft as she smiled at him. Tempted him. As if to say that he could share with her, things he’d never shared.

“I like your philosophy, Mr. Ryan,” she said.

“It’s not mine alone. It’s what’s been proven to work.” He walked around his desk and came up beside her, close enough to smell her perfume, close enough to thread his fingers through her curls, if he’d wanted. If he’d been allowed such a luxury. “I’ll walk you to day care.”

“I can manage. I just wanted to say good morning. It’s important to greet people, don’t you think? And to let them know when you’re leaving.”

So—he’d been put on notice that she would be saying hello and goodbye every day. That she would seek him out. That he should seek her out if he was leaving for some reason.

“Are we allowed to hug?” she asked.

His hands curled into fists. “What?”

“Do the adults hug the children here? There are so many rules these days. Sick, sad rules because people cry abuse so easily.”

“Oh.” Disappointment swept through him before he could squelch it. He’d already locked on to the image of him holding her. Her holding him. “We encourage appropriate physical contact.”

“Now there’s a textbook answer.” Her eyes danced merrily. She feathered the hair on his arm with her fingertips until his skin rose in bumps. “Is that appropriate?”

“Try it on one of the boys and you may have to use every self-defense technique you know.”

She tossed her hair. “But I’m safe with you?”

“Not safe at all, Miss Rose.”

Her eyes flickered with interest. He never flirted with women. Never. But she was digging deeper into him than anyone had and finding a place he hadn’t known existed.

“Safe is for wimps,” she said.

“And we all agree you’re not a wimp.”

“Oh, I have my moments.” Her hand drifted away. “I’m sure I’ll see you occasionally throughout the day.”

“Count on it.”

A smile came and went. “I will.”

He let out a long, slow breath as she walked away, leaving a trail of fragrance and an eyeful of softly swaying hips. He swallowed, hungry for her, at the same time wary of the hunger.

Maybe it was time to take his first vacation in nine years.

The last cherubic face had been washed and the last squirming body covered with a blanket in the nap room before Tessa found time to draw a deep breath. She turned a comical expression on Chandra, the day care director.

“Lively bunch,” Tessa said. In her charge were twenty preschoolers and four aides, an excellent balance. Still, learning their names and personalities made a person a little foggy for a while. And she’d only been at work a few hours.

“Thank goodness for the teenagers who volunteer to help. During the school year, we only have two aides each. It can be overwhelming,” Chandra said, looking at her watch. “I wonder where Dodger is. He should have been here an hour ago.”

“Who’s Dodger?”

“He delivers our food order three times a week. We just qualified for a huge grant that will allow us more fresh fruits and vegetables and enough milk, cereal and pasta to feed this small army. Dodger’s been getting here later and later, though. Guess I’m gonna have to complain to his boss.” She pushed herself out of the chair. “Grab some lunch while you can, Tessa. I’ll be on the phone awhile.”

Tuna sandwich had never tasted so good, Tessa thought as she leaned her head against the back of her chair, closed her eyes and chewed. She liked the environment of this place, so different from the Schuman Corporation, where everything was updated continually, the latest toys and computers purchased frequently to entertain and teach. Here, however, they made do with castoffs that had been cleaned up and lots of homemade toys and games. And the kids were gems. Unspoiled, full of giggles, happy for the attention.

A sixth sense told her that someone was watching her. She took her time opening her eyes, knowing that it was Chase.

It wasn’t. A pony tailed young man stood in the doorway, a blue baseball cap perched backward on his head, a handcart loaded with boxes in front of him.

“You the new teach?” he asked, coming into the room, heading toward the door that led to the kitchen. “I’m Dodger.”

She stood, uneasy. She didn’t know how long he’d been watching her while she was lost in her own thoughts. “I’ll tell Mrs. Moore you’re here.”

“Not to worry, babe. I know where I’m goin’.”

“My name is Miss Rose.”

He eyed her coolly, then shrugged and turned away. “Whatever. You want to come along and sign for this stuff?”

A masculine voice answered, “I will.”

Chase came into the room, his expression fiercer than usual. “Thank you, Miss Rose. I’ll take care of this. Finish your lunch.”

She could hear the men talking as she sat again. She wanted to creep closer to the kitchen, to hear what Chase was telling the young man. Dodger came out in a minute, winked at her, then pushed the handcart ahead of him.

“He’ll be back with more,” Chase said, leaning against the doorway. “I’ll stay until he’s done.”

“Okay.”

“I explained the rules. No one swears, no one speaks disrespectfully to another. He’s not part of the Center, but while he’s here, he’s expected to conform.”

“He doesn’t look like a conformist,” Tessa said, smiling at his paternal attitude. “Care for a sandwich? I’ve got plenty to share.”

She could see him automatically start to say no, then his answer eased into the affirmative. He sat beside her, accepting the tuna sandwich. She shoved some chips his way and opened a large plastic bag filled with oatmeal-and-raisin cookies.

“How is your day going?” he asked.

“Great. The kids are amazing.”

“In what way?”

“Nothing bores them, for one thing. And they share pretty well, considering their ages. The teenagers who are helping out are terrific. too. I’ll be sorry to lose them when school starts.”

“You’ll have more help than the early-in-the-day teachers because once school lets out for the day, the kids start piling in. Everyone has to pay to be a member here, and if they can’t afford it, they work off the equivalent in time. We always have help. We count on it. Did you make the cookies?”

“Mmm-hmm. I didn’t have any champagne, so I launched my new apartment by making cookies.”

Dodger returned and made a straight line for the kitchen. As he came back through, Tessa offered him some cookies, as well. She was aware of Chase angling her way, stretching out his legs and crossing his ankles, as if there for the duration. She wondered if he was aware of what a mark of ownership his actions were.

Dodger grabbed a handful of cookies. “Thanks, Miss Rose.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Dodger.”

He laughed, then his gaze slid to Chase, effectively ending the conversation.

“You are formidable,” Tessa said to Chase when Dodger left.

“Am I?”

She smiled. “You’re a natural.”

“I’m not, actually.”

“Formidable, or a natural?”

“Either.”

“Yes, you are. This is your kingdom.”

He wadded his sandwich wrap into a ball and tossed it into a wastebasket. “The Center is a democracy. I just oversee it.”

“You rule it.”

He shook his head. “That’s not true. Ten people make up the board of directors. Of those ten, five are teenagers. The remaining five aren’t politicians or civic leaders but people from this community, people who have a vested interest in the success of this venture.”

“But ultimately you have the final word.” She watched his bland expression for any nuance of change.

“I’ve only intervened once in a board decision. The kids wanted to purchase some televisions. They’d even swayed two of the adults to their side. I said no.”

“Why?”

“Because they can watch television at home. I want them busy here. Not just physically, with sports, but mentally. There’s a quiet room for them to do homework or read. They form discussion groups, and I don’t put limits on the subjects. The fact they’re communicating, especially with each other, is what’s important. Peer counseling is critical. They learn that they can deal with their problems using their minds, not their fists and certainly not weapons. I can’t tell you how many times a child has confided in another child here. Some of them have learned the social service system better than I have. They do their own referrals. It works. And I usually catch the ones that fall through the cracks.”

“Chandra told me that you have a master’s degree in child psychology.”

He nodded. “And I counsel when and where I can. But the kids respond best to their peers. I not only allow it, I encourage it.”

The sound of a cranky child cut short Tessa’s response. They both looked up as the aide who monitored the nap room came in carrying a fussy two-year-old.

“Sorry to disturb your lunch, Miss Rose, but Christa woke up crying. I can’t get her to tell me if something hurts.”

“Thank you, Jennifer. Come here, sweetheart.”

The toddler had other ideas. She hurled herself in Chase’s direction, trying to escape Jennifer’s hold. “Want you.”

Tessa shrugged as he lifted his brows in silent question. He was familiar to the children, and she was new. She didn’t expect them to come to her yet, and certainly wouldn’t force it.

He took Christa into his arms. She cuddled against him, sniffling dramatically, jamming her thumb in her mouth, her tears slowing.

“Magic touch,” Jennifer said to Tessa as she walked away. “The kids love him.”

Tessa watched him calm the softly hiccuping little girl and knew exactly why no child would fear him. He spoke to Christa in hushed tones, the gentle huskiness accompanied by an equally comforting touch of his hand, large and soothing, as he stroked her long, dark hair and tiny back.

He may not smile, but he brought contentment. He was a man people could confide in, knowing their secret was safe. His word was his bond, integrity his covenant. All the research she’d done on him indicated it. Now she could see for herself. Children were the ultimate barometer of a person’s character.

Chase Ryan was genuine.

He met Tessa’s gaze with a questioning one. She didn’t know what he’d seen in her expression—too much had passed through her head in a brief period of time. She smiled at him, the only answer she could give.

“She’s asleep,” he said. “I’ll put her down.”

“Thank you.”

He looked at Tessa a moment longer. Then, incredibly, he cupped the side of her head, his palm resting against her hair, his fingertips barely touching her scalp, his thumb brushing her cheek. Had she looked as needy as Christa?

“Let me know if Dodger gives you any trouble, Tessa.”

She let out the breath she’d been holding, then crossed her arms as he took his hand away. “So, that’s how you rule so effectively.”

“Meaning?”

“Oh, you tricky man, you. You lure with touch, then you give orders. You figure while I’m mesmerized, I’ll agree to anything. Nicely done, Mr. Ryan.”

“I’m not that calculated.”

“Then your instincts are exceptional.”

“Maybe we could talk about it over dinner sometime.”

She liked that he’d surprised himself with the invitation, for clearly he had. His expression closed up instantly—too late, of course, but a shutdown nonetheless. “I’d love to,” she said simply. “Name the day.”

She’d never thought a person’s frown endearing before. His tugged at her heart, which was already fluttering from his surprisingly tender touch and the intensity of his stormy gray gaze.

“I’ll get back to you,” he said.

Tessa smiled as he left the room with Christa. What a fascinating man. Strong-willed, devoted to his work, definitely a leader and yet vulnerable, too. She didn’t know which part of him attracted her more. Or maybe it was the contradictions that were so enticing.

Dinner with Chase? A personal relationship with him certainly hadn’t been in her plans when she first applied for the job, but she couldn’t deny its appeal now. Who would have thought it?

Late that night Chase locked the dead bolt behind him, then climbed the stairs to his second-floor apartment over the Center. Ten o’clock and all’s well—except his peace of mind.

Dinner. Where had that invitation come from?

Yes, he was attracted to Tessa. But he’d been attracted to women before and been able to control the direction of a relationship. With Tessa, he found himself saying and doing things he couldn’t predict and certainly hadn’t planned.

He flipped on the light switch as he rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, illuminating his living room. Some of his friends would shout hallelujah. He’d often been accused of being too controlled—Sarge’s word. Les said he was hopeless. Sebastian called him clueless. But what were friends for if not to tell you the truth about yourself?

Controlled, hopeless, clueless. And Tessa’s description—formidable. Not that it fazed the soft, fragrant, cookie baker who made him yearn for things he’d scratched off his wish list years ago. His commitment to his purpose was complete—no child would experience what he’d experienced, not if he had anything to say about it. And dividing himself between his commitment of the past eighteen years and the temptation that Tessa represented now just wouldn’t work. Both would suffer if he fragmented his attention.

He didn’t think Tessa would settle for second place. Nor should she.

He tossed his keys on the kitchen counter, picked up the phone and dialed.

“O’Keefe.”

“What’d you get on Stone Man?”

“Geez, Chase. Give me a break, will you? I’m a detective, not a miracle worker. I’ve been chasing bad guys all day and couldn’t get to it.”

He eased onto a sturdy bar stool. “This is important, Les. Tessa’s life could be at risk.”

“I’m right in the middle of the first date I’ve had in months. I’ll get to it ASAP, I promise.”

“Tomorrow.”

Les sighed, a pretty good indication that Chase was testing their eighteen-year friendship. “All right. All right. Tomorrow.”

“So, Les, are you wearing a dress and everything tonight?”

“Go to heck, Ryan.”

“Before you slam the phone down,” he said quickly, “check out a guy named Dodger, too, would you? He works at the food bank. I want to know his background.”

“Why?”

Because I didn’t like the way he looked at Tessa today. “He’s in and out several times a week. Something about him bothers me.”

“I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Thanks, Les. I appreciate it.”

“But don’t call me, okay? I’ll call you when I have some information.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

The phone line went dead.

Grabbing a couple of plums and the remainder of Tessa’s oatmeal-and-raisin cookies, which she’d left with him when she’d said good night, Chase turned out the light and wandered into his bedroom. His walls were lined with cement-block and wood-plank bookshelves, filled with everything from textbooks to best-sellers. They were his indulgence, his one luxury and were organized systematically so that he could put his hands on any book he wanted easily. The few people who’d been in the room always stared at the minilibrary.

He stripped and climbed in bed with his snack and a book on inner-city youth. Before long, he set the book aside. He bit into a plum, the tangy juice and sweet flesh filling his mouth as he contemplated the ceiling—and Tessa.

Most of the women he knew were either single mothers struggling just to get by, or social workers embittered by the system that tied their hands, or, as in Les’s case, a police detective who saw the worst of human beings day in and day out. Women worn out by the pressure of just getting by. But survivors. He’d always sympathized with them and admired that they got through each day without breaking. Usually, the stronger the woman, the more he admired her.

And yet...there was Tessa Rose. Strong, yes. Physically, anyway. He didn’t know enough about her to know if her character was as strong, although he suspected as much. But she was soft, too. Temptingly soft.

He plucked a cookie from the bag and bit into it, its sweet raisins and chewy texture a sensual experience for the man whose most gourmet meal that week consisted of scrambled eggs and salsa, wrapped in a tortilla. Easy and cheap. That was his motto in the kitchen.

A homemade cookie was a rarity, either a Christmas gift or a cooking project in the Center’s kitchen.

He looked at the bedside clock, debated a moment, then picked up the phone and dialed the number he’d already memorized.

Tessa answered with a tentative hello.

“It’s Chase. I hope I’m not calling too late.”

She laughed. “I’m just so relieved it’s not my mother.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Heavens, no. I’m a night owl. I’ve been doing some prep work for a craft project for tomorrow.”

“I’ve been thinking about dinner.” How we shouldn’t take the chance, he thought. How mixing business and pleasure is never a wise move. “How about Saturday, after you give the self-defense class?”

“That would be great.”

He just wouldn’t kiss her good night. Then things wouldn’t get complicated. “Do you like Mexican food?”

“My favorite.”

He wouldn’t even hold her hand. “Good.”

“Chase?”

They’d just talk. Get to know each other. Try to bring in some reality to dim the fantasy that had built too fast. “Yeah?”

“No one is forcing you to do this, you know.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you sound like someone has a gun to your head. If you’ve decided that you don’t want to go out with me, I’ll understand. I guess.”

Ah, a graceful way out. She was perceptive and generous. This could be the end of it, no questions asked. It never had to come up again. “No one forces me to do anything, Tessa.”

Good goin’, Ryan. Come across like some Neanderthal. That’s just what every woman wants in her life.

“I’m sure they don’t,” she said.

A muffled noise punctuated the silence that followed.

“Are you laughing at me, Miss Rose?” he asked, strongly suspicious of the sound.

“No.” She choked a little. “Yes.”

“Why?” He knew why. He knew exactly why. What an idiot he was. Why did he become like an adolescent with her?

He knew the answer to that, too.

“I really like you, Chase.”

“But?”

“No but. I’ve never met a man like you.”

“Is that a problem for you?”

“It might be, at some point. But for now, I’m just enjoying it.”

“What are you concerned about, Tessa?”

“This is the first time I’ve been on my own, which seems amazing, I know, given my age. I can’t mess it up, Chase.”

“And I’m a threat to your independence?”

“Yes.”

He waited for her to expand on the answer. Was he just supposed to make his own assumptions about her meaning?

“Chase?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I’m a threat to you, as well.”

“No maybe about it.”

“Good night,” she said softly, then hung up without waiting for his response.

He dropped the receiver and pressed his palms to his closed eyes. He wanted her beside him. Needed to hold her. Yearned to touch her soft curls as they danced down her back. Craved to have her fragrance fill his head. Hungered to know if her skin felt as velvety as it looked. Ached for her breasts to press against him, for her legs to wrap around his as their bodies merged.

He opened his eyes, needing a distraction, but the starkly erotic image still hovered, not the least hazy.

Fast. It’d all happened too fast. Which qualified what he felt as infatuation. Which meant, given time, he could control it.

They had no future together. He’d seen to that eighteen years ago. To forget even for a minute that he wasn’t a normal man was foolish.

And he was no fool.