Playing Hooky (Teach Me Tonight)

by Rede, Lily

  TEACH ME TONIGHT #1

  PLAYING HOOKY

  By Lily Rede & Jane Gaudet

  PLAYING HOOKY (TEACH ME TONIGHT #1)

  Copyright 2013 by Lily Rede

  All Rights Reserved

  First Kindle Edition, June 2013

  WARNING: This work contains explicit depictions of couples engaged in consensual sex and sexual situations. If you’re under 18, read something else!

  ADDITIONAL WORKS AVAILABLE AS SINGLE TITLES

  Hot for Joe

  Build Me Up

  My Fair Hex

  Passion & Pumpkins

  Pour On the Heat

  Teach Me Tonight #1 – Playing Hooky

  Teach Me Tonight #2 – Making the Grade (June 2013)

  Teach Me Tonight #3 – “A” For Effort (July 2013)

  ANTHOLOGIES

  Hot & Sweet – Beginnings

  The Kringle Girls

  Teach Me Tonight

  Email Lily at LilyCRede@gmail.com

  Twitter: @RedeLily

  Blog: lilyrede.wordpress.com

  PLAYING HOOKY

  THE WHEELS TOUCHED DOWN in paradise and Molly Callahan felt free for the first time in months. As they taxied to the small island airport, she caught a glimpse of lush tropical vegetation and beyond that, the crystal blue waters of the South Pacific.

  Finally.

  Nine weeks without papers to grade, homework excuses, detention slips, confiscated electronics, parent-teacher conferences, and chalk dust on everything she owned.

  And two weeks of those nine will be spent in this heaven.

  It wasn’t that Molly didn’t love being a middle-school science teacher. Every year, her sixth and seventh graders astounded her with their energy, their curiosity, their huge potential – the world was in front of them, and though she’d only been teaching for a few years, it was such a kick to see some of her former students going on to be high school science stars.

  I must be doing something right, she thought as she re-packed her carry-on luggage, making sure she hadn’t left anything behind on the fifteen-hour flight.

  Too excited to feel the jet lag that was sure to knock her off her feet in a couple of hours, Molly stepped off the plane with the other passengers and crossed to the little airport main building to go through Immigration and Customs. The air was muggy and sweet, and within moments, her brown hair was sticking to the back of her neck. But Molly didn’t care, thrilled when the beautiful copper-skinned woman who stamped her passport offered her a smile and a warm, “Welcome to the island.”

  It wasn’t hard to find the resort escort in Baggage Claim waving a sign with her name on it. He was a compact, muscular young man, who cheerfully slung her bags over his shoulder and led her to a jeep waiting outside.

  “The boat is waiting to take you out to the island.”

  As they drove the winding road to the marina, Molly took in her tropical surroundings with satisfaction – this trip may have cost her a good chunk of her savings, but it was totally worth it. Two whole weeks of sun, sand, and maybe a vacation fling if she hit it off with a hot cabana boy. No students, no parents, no family. Molly felt a slight twinge of guilt, knowing she’d have to face the wrath of the Callahan clan when she got home, but quickly dismissed it.

  I’m an adult. I don’t have to do what my parents tell me to do.

  Defiance was easier from a few thousand miles away. If she’d been home, Molly knew she’d have been bullied into attending the huge annual family reunion and spent two weeks babysitting young nieces, nephews, and cousins and getting harassed by her mother for not dutifully providing her with grandchildren like her six other siblings. It was tough being the only single one.

  For once, Molly just wanted some time to herself. She had voiced that shocking notion over Friday-night mojitos with her sister-in-law Bree, who had understood immediately.

  “You need a vacation, hon. Something on the other side of the planet where you can lie on a beach…”

  “And snorkel…”

  “And meet some smokin’ island guy and get laid…”

  “Bree!”

  Her petite, blonde, cherub of a sister-in-law just laughed.

  “Oh come on, Molly. You never bring guys home to meet the folks. According to my spies in the PTA, you never date. You work too hard…”

  “Spies?”

  “And you’ve resisted all my attempts to hook you up with my brother.”

  Molly had squirmed uncomfortably at that. Bree was fixated on the idea of setting her up with Jack Roman, her anthropologist brother, on the grounds that Hey, you’re both scientists was a good foundation for a relationship. There were so many things wrong with that.

  “Jack is a great guy, Bree, but he’s too – ”

  “Too what?”

  Too everything.

  It wasn’t just that the man was a genius, she thought resentfully, but he was gorgeous in a way that made good girls think about naughty things before their minds completely blanked, making them look like nitwits, and famous thanks to a series of successful books about lost civilizations that were irritatingly good. She’d never admit that she’d greedily gobbled them up, seduced by the witty, smooth prose that brought ancient cultures alive with a touch of wry humor. Underneath his serious, seemingly humorless mien was a darkly funny man in touch with the core of what made humans oh so human.

  Molly wished the ground would open up and swallow her every time their paths crossed. She was smart and she loved her job, but she wouldn’t be winning awards anytime soon. The mirror told her she was pretty-ish, with reddish-brown hair, a few freckles, and plain blue eyes. She wasn’t voluptuous, but she wasn’t a stick either. In short, to everyone other than the sixth graders who looked at her with adoration when she performed a particularly flashy chemistry experiment in class, she was average.

  There’s nothing wrong with being normal.

  Why Bree insisted on trying to pair her up with a man completely out of her league was beyond her. It wasn’t as though he was interested. He always nodded politely and made forgettable small talk when Bree dragged them together at every extended family BBQ, birthday party, and major holiday, but that was it. She could feel him looking down on her with those sharp cobalt eyes, and Molly Callahan didn’t need someone like that. She had enough on her plate without having to think about seducing a man who had no interest in being seduced.

  Not that it wouldn’t be fun to try, she thought, arousal heating her as it did whenever she imagined Jack Roman’s big, muscular form moving smoothly against her, inside her.

  She shook her head and shut down that line of thinking as the marina came into view, along with the yacht that would ferry them out to the island.

  I’ll have to thank Bree, she noted breathlessly at the sight of turquoise waters stretching out as far as the eye could see.

  Once Molly had decided to skip out on this year’s reunion and actually take a vacation, Bree had made it her mission to find the perfect private island resort, even surprising her with an upgrade to business class to make the flight more bearable. Halfway around the world, it was hard to think about how upset her parents would be that she was playing hooky. It’s not as if they would ever find out. Patrick and Fiona Callahan thought she was at the school’s annual faculty and staff retreat, and that’s how it would stay, thank you very much. They never needed to know that the retreat was optional.

  And Molly could avoid Jack Roman for a few more weeks.

  She stepped on the yacht and a steward immediately came forward to welcome her and hand her a glass of champagne. Molly looked around, noting a number of white-clad staff.

  “Where is everyone
?”

  “The resort doesn’t officially open for two weeks, but we’re allowing a few guests to try out the facilities to allow us to perform a test run.”

  “So I’ve got the place to myself?”

  Molly nearly squirmed in delight at the thought.

  “Almost,” admitted the steward, “There are a total of five suites booked for the next week, and then more guests will arrive.”

  He nodded to the stern.

  “Perhaps you’d like to join the others and get acquainted? The island is small, and you may want to socialize during your stay. We’ll be departing momentarily.”

  Molly nodded her thanks and sipped her champagne, trailing fingers along the railing as she strolled the length of the yacht, the tension of the last few months slowly unraveling.

  The guests were easy to spot, and Molly sized them up, only half-curious – a cute pair of honeymooners who seemed more interested in each other than in their stunning surroundings, a middle-aged man in a flowered shirt, carrying a camera and a bird book, and –

  All the air left Molly’s lungs in a whoosh.

  He was standing with his back to her, but the glint of sun off golden hair, the leashed strength and fluid muscle that made her think of a big cat, and that tight, perfect ass she’d wanted to squeeze for months –

  “Jack,” she breathed.

  Shit.

  JACK ROMAN COULDN’T SHAKE the bad mood that had gripped him for weeks now. He knew that Bree was furious with him for missing the Callahan family reunion, and he’d only made it worse by pointing out they were her family by marriage, not his. Still, he hated letting her down. While she’d married into a huge, boisterous, loving group of people who were in each other’s lives on a daily basis, Jack only had her. For all of the fans of his books, his colleagues, and the dozen people that kept his public life running smoothly, there weren’t many he counted as true friends. Bree obviously wanted the Callahans to fill that void, but Jack had trouble letting people in, and it showed. He’d jumped at the chance to skip the reunion with a trip to the other side of the world.

  By himself.

  And so, because Bree was pissed at him, the three-week research trip that was supposed to be his next grand adventure felt more like a tedious chore.

  The material was fascinating – an ancient island tribe the world had never heard of, the Luveku Ika, who worshipped a half-human, half-fish deity. Bree had been delighted when he told her about the “mermaid people,” and wanted every detail. Though he wasn’t thrilled that the other half of the island was being taken up by the new, swanky resort, it was convenient for his purposes. Showing up for a few weeks of preliminary observations before they opened would give him a chance to evaluate and plan a more thorough investigation.

  The research would keep him busy.

  And keep him from thinking about a certain sexy schoolteacher.

  Staring out at the water as the yacht began to move, Jack felt a familiar heat as Molly Callahan invaded his thoughts, again. Since the moment Bree and Molly had become BFFs, his conniving sister had been working to match them up. At first, Jack had been amused – she wasn’t anything like the tall, cool models he generally attracted. As time passed, however, his amusement faded to irritation as he realized that Molly didn’t have to be a supermodel to be a danger to him.

  She distracted.

  Jack hated distractions. His focus was legendary, his work meticulous, and he felt the pressure of the public eye with every word he published. He didn’t have time for a lush little middle school teacher with wide blue eyes and tempting curves hidden under sensible sweaters and skirts that made him wonder how soft the flesh beneath might be.

  Did she wear garters? His cock tightened as the image stuck.

  Snap the fuck out of it, Jack, he ordered himself, knowing he’d never find out firsthand.

  Molly Callahan was off limits.

  Jack made her nervous and he knew it. Molly could barely string two words together around him, though he’d eavesdropped on enough of her conversations at family functions to realize that she had a sharp mind and a sweet, generous heart. When their paths crossed and he had to make small talk, the sexual tension in her was palpable, and that stirred something primal in him, as though his body recognized a receptive female eager for his touch. He kept their conversations bland, to prevent himself from grabbing her and pinning her against the nearest convenient surface to devour her in succulent bites.

  She’d lick that full lower lip and he’d have to stifle a groan, and when she thought he wasn’t looking, her eyes would wander over him with barely-disguised interest. Jack had developed a sixth sense about knowing when she was staring at his ass.

  The first problem was that she was Bree’s best friend and a Callahan. The second problem was that he seriously doubted she was the kind of girl who would be happy with a quick fling, the only offer ever on the table. She probably wanted hearts and flowers and quiet nights by the fire. Jack was gone half the time, up to his ears in bugs and dirt, and when he was home, he spent most of his time doing publicity or holed up writing somewhere. He maintained a couple of casual bed partners, the kind of women who appreciated a weekend fuck to release tension, but he wasn’t exactly relationship material, despite Bree’s confidence in him. Jack didn’t like people getting close – it hurt too much when they left. Fucking and forgetting Molly Callahan would bring the wrath of her family down on his head, and worse, Bree would never forgive him.

  Jack sipped his champagne and wondered if Molly would miss him at the reunion. Would she lie awake at night, wondering where he was, maybe running her hands over her sweet breasts and down to tease the bud of her clit as she thought about him? Lately, Jack’s fantasies all seemed to revolve around wrapping Molly’s shining reddish-brown mane around his fist to pull her head back so that he could feast on her throat while he rocked into her, hot and wet and tight as a fucking fist. She would shiver and surrender in his arms with his name on her lips.

  Shit, if I want to get anything done I’m going to have to jerk off the minute we get there, thought Jack in disgust, adjusting his loose shirt to cover the erection straining the zipper of his khaki shorts.

  He felt unsettled, as if he was being watched, and glanced around. The honeymooners were practically twittering like the lovebirds they resembled while the birdwatcher had his attention fixed on the sea birds that swooped along in the wake of the yacht, but Jack couldn’t shake the sense of eyes on him. Just like it felt whenever Molly Callahan was staring at his –

  “Jack,” her voice breathed, real and stunned, right behind him.

  Fantasies were one thing, hallucinations were quite another.

  With a horrible sense of foreboding, Jack turned around.

  Shit.

  “WHAT THE HELL ARE you doing here?!?” Molly practically screeched as she stomped over, fingers clenched around a bubbling champagne flute.

  “Me? What are you doing here?”

  He had the nerve to look shocked. And pissed.

  “What does it look like? I’m on vacation.”

  “You’re supposed to be at the reunion,” he accused, his eyes sweeping over her in disbelief.

  Suddenly Molly was very aware of her slightly disheveled appearance, her shirt wrinkled from the long flight, her hair whipping around her like a tornado. Jack, of course, looked good enough to eat, in simple khaki shorts and a loose white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, half-open to reveal a good amount of muscled chest and dusting of golden hair that looked so touchable, her mouth went dry.

  “I decided to skip it and find a beach,” she fumed, gulping the chilled champagne and trying to get her knee-jerk arousal under control.

  “And of all the beaches in the world, you picked the one on the island where I’m researching my next book?” His voice was heavy with suspicion.

  “Bree picked it out.”

  They both fell silent as the pieces clicked into place.

  “My sister strikes again,”
Jack finally muttered and lifted his champagne flute in a wry toast before downing the rest of the glass.

  “I didn’t know,” managed Molly as reality started to set in – she was going to spend two weeks on a remote paradise island with Jack Roman.

  Oh. My. God.

  He didn’t look particularly happy with the situation, and she felt a frission of pique as he continued to look at her like a particularly distasteful form of bug.

  “Well, it’s a whole island. We’ll manage. I’m sure it won’t be a problem,” he said, and that frission turned into full-blown irritation.

  Can we say rude?

  “I’m sure your work won’t interfere with my vacation, but thanks for your concern, Jack,” she said sweetly, and enjoyed the scowl that darkened his face.

  He may have a great ass, but Jack Roman was proving to be something of an ass himself.

  I don’t know what Bree was thinking, Molly thought, surly and struggling with a hot stab of disappointment, Hot doesn’t make up for jerk.

  She turned to go, planning to introduce herself to the other guests and not waste one more second on Jack Roman, when the floor shifted out from under her as the yacht crossed the wake of a passing sailboat and rocked.

  The honeymooners giggled, clutching each other, while the birdwatcher simply grabbed the railing and shifted his stance, but Molly was untethered. The flute slipped from her fingers with a crash, and she got a glimpse of Jack’s wide-eyed horror as she lost her footing and toppled ungracefully…right into his arms.

  I’M BEING PUNISHED, THOUGHT Jack as Molly’s soft weight crashed into him, sending them tumbling down together onto the padded bench by the railing. A second jolt hit as she frantically tried to push away, and suddenly she was pinned beneath his weight, intimately pressed from thigh to chest, and holy fuck, she felt good.

  Molly froze as the intimacy of their position hit her, and Jack marveled that having her under him was incredible, even though he’d never pictured them like this fully clothed, on a yacht, with an audience. Anger, frustration, and lust churned through him. Their confrontation was the longest conversation they’d ever had, and now her curves molded against him as if they were two pieces of a puzzle, as if they’d been sleeping together for years. Her breath came fast with her breasts crushed against his chest, their legs tangled, and her intimate heat seared him where his thigh rubbed her hot, sweet pussy. His cock cuddled against her stomach, his thick dumb flesh eager to show her how big and hard she made him.