by Cindi Myers
Taylor turned to see who had spoken and was surprised to find that Berk had come up with this suggestion. Odd that he should mention that particular book now, when she and Dylan had talked about it only last night. “What can you tell us about the book?”
He squirmed. “It’s by a local guy, isn’t it? He was a Texas Ranger during the Civil Rights movement and he wrote about what happened.” He shrugged. “It sounded interesting.”
“It is interesting.” She leaned against the front of the desk and studied the students. “The book is by Samuel Gates, whose family lived here for many years. He was a member of the Texas Rangers during one of the most turbulent periods in the state’s history and wrote about his experiences. The book won a number of awards, but it’s also quite controversial.”
“Then it must have sex in it.” Dale’s comment was met with laughter. He rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. Adults don’t want to think we know it exists.”
“At one time, A Ranger Remembers was on our reading list,” Taylor said. “It was removed at the request of a school-board member, but whether or not we study it is at the discretion of the English department head here at the school.”
“Who is the department head?” Jessica asked.
“This year it’s Mr. Murphy.”
A groan rose over the classroom and Taylor ducked her head to hide her smile. “Berk, why did you suggest we study that particular book?” she asked.
A sunburn shade of red washed up his neck and face and he cracked his knuckles with a loud pop. “I found a copy in the library and thought it sounded interesting.”
“Can we do it, Ms. Reed?” Patrice asked. “Will you ask Mr. Murphy if we can study it?”
Even a week ago, she would have said no. Why ask for trouble? But last night with Dylan had changed her mind about a lot. Some things, such as honoring your true feelings and doing what’s right, were more important than worrying about what others think of you. Her job was to give these young people the best education she could. That meant helping them make difficult choices and teaching them to think for themselves.
She nodded. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.” She turned and added the title to the list on the board, then faced them again. “But if I’m going to go out on a limb for you this way, you have to do me a favor, as well. You have to study and make this semester project something we can all be proud of.”
“We can do it.”
“Thanks, Ms. R. You’re the best.”
Taylor smiled and made a note in her planner to talk to Grady. Seeing the students eager about learning reminded her why this job was such a rush sometimes.
And in a way, this would be her gift to Dylan, too, revisiting his father’s work and reminding the townspeople why Sam Gates had been important and worth remembering.
THE REST OF THE WEEK, every time Dylan sat down to work, thoughts of Taylor intruded on his efforts. On Thursday, he started to compose a Help Wanted ad for a secretary, only to discover he’d written “experienced legal secretary, excellent computer skills and amazing brown eyes.”
He shook his head and turned away from the laptop screen. Her eyes weren’t the only thing amazing about Taylor. Over the years he’d carried this image of her around in his head, only to discover upon meeting her again that everything he’d thought about her was true, only more so. He’d remembered her as an independent girl with her own sense of style and she’d reintroduced herself into his life as a free-spirited woman who would strip naked in the front seat of his truck and hide nothing from him.
The women he knew in L.A. weren’t like that. Even the sweetest of them worried about image, about what they looked like, about what people thought of them. He’d written it off as part of being a woman, until Taylor made him think that wasn’t necessarily so.
In high school, Taylor had snubbed her critics and he’d thought it was because they’d hurt her. Now he wondered if it was because she knew something they didn’t—something about which feelings were really important.
Being with her Monday night made him want to know what she knew—to learn her secrets. He wanted to borrow her confidence, to latch onto her faith in the future and to use those things to make peace with his past. He’d come back to Cedar Creek knowing this was his home. He belonged here, but that didn’t mean he knew yet exactly where he fit in. His father had been branded the town rebel, a man who’d spent his life both upholding the traditions of the community and reminding them of the mistakes of the past. What role would his son play now?
A knock on the door pulled him from his reverie. “Come in,” he called, standing in time to welcome the three men who filed in. Troy was first, followed by two older men Dylan remembered from the Rotary luncheon. “Dylan, you remember Bob Packer and Lucas Talifero, don’t you?” Troy said.
“Of course. How are y’all doing today?” The men shook hands all around and Dylan invited them to sit. He pulled his desk chair around and offered it to Packer, then perched on the edge of the desk. “What can I do for y’all?”
“Lucas, Bob and I have a rather interesting proposition for you.” Troy grinned.
Dylan ignored a nervous tremor in his stomach. Whatever Troy was up to, it couldn’t be that bad. “What kind of proposition?”
“Troy tells us you’re really interested in getting involved in the community again,” Talifero said.
He nodded. “That’s right.”
Packer stroked his neatly groomed goatee. “Would that include, perhaps, running for local office?”
Dylan shifted. “Maybe. I’ve thought about it for a while. It seems like a way to have a real impact on the community.” His father had run for city council back in the eighties, but he’d been defeated in the primary. After that, he’d said politics was better left to others.
Troy leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees. “There’s a recent opening on the school board and we think you’d be perfect for the position.”
“School board?” Troy frowned. “I don’t even have children in school.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Talifero dismissed this concern with a wave of his hand. “School board is merely a jumping off point anyway. Serve out a two-year term there, get your name known, then move on to the county level, then on to the state legislature. It’s a formula that’s worked for many an up-and-coming young man over the years.”
Dylan’s skin prickled as he listened to the older man lay out this picture of his future. “I’m flattered you have such confidence in my abilities,” he said.
Talifero smiled. “I remember when you played quarterback for the Cyclones back in the early nineties. I told myself then, a smart, talented kid like that could be a real asset to this community.”
“Will you do it?” Troy asked. “Will you run for school board?”
He hesitated. “I’m not sure. I need a little time to think about it.”
“Don’t think too long,” Packer said. “The election is only six weeks away. We’re proposing you run as a write-in candidate for the position left vacated when Rennie Sellers came down with colon cancer. We’re willing to put money behind you to get the word out.”
Dylan frowned. “Who else is running?”
“Maidy Sellers, but she’s only doing it because Rennie wants to keep his hand in. And a new guy, Jes Ramirez. Nobody knows much about him, so we figure an established name like yours would be a good draw.”
Dylan was beginning to get the picture. These men, and whoever else had hatched up this plot with them, wanted to back a safe, sure thing. “I’ve been gone almost ten years,” he said. “What makes you think anybody would remember me?”
“If they don’t remember you, they remember your daddy,” Talifero said. “He was a big man around here in his day.”
Sam Gates had been a big man, period, one who seemed even bigger with his ramrod-straight back and Texas Ranger swagger. Dylan looked Talifero in the eye. “I seem to recall my dad wasn’t all that popular with a lot of people in town. Especially
after his book was published.”
“Yeah, the book did stir things up for a while, but who remembers that now?” Talifero straightened and clapped his hands on his thighs. “Beating our chests about the past has kind of gone out of fashion now. What we’re looking for is a smart, young candidate with local ties who’ll appeal to a broad cross-section of the voters.”
Dylan fought back a smile. Talifero made him sound like a new fast food offering. “And you think that’s me?”
“It’s you.” Troy stood. “Come on, Dyl. Say you’ll do it. If you really want to be involved, this is the way to do it.”
Dylan studied them. The eagerness on their faces didn’t fool him. They’d probably try to use him for some kind of agenda; but he’d use them, too, to help him win the election. Then he’d take a page from Taylor’s book and do things his own way.
“How about if I let you know tomorrow? I think I really need to sleep on this.”
“Tomorrow, then.” Packer stood and the others rose, also. They shook hands again. As they all walked to the door, Packer stopped and turned to Dylan. “Say, I heard an interesting bit of gossip this morning about you and one of the teachers over at the high school.”
Dylan froze, every sense on alert. “Oh?”
“It’s understandable there’s going to be a certain amount of talk. You’re young and single and I suppose good-looking. I’m not telling you to become a hermit or anything, but you need to be aware of the kinds of things that might be said.”
He had a disorienting sensation of déjà vu. Hadn’t he been through this all before? “I wouldn’t pay any attention to gossip if I were you,” he said.
“You can learn very interesting things from gossip. Especially in a small town.” Talifero nodded. “Just keep in mind that a man living in the public eye has to be careful. Today we’re talking about the school board, but next year and the next, we could be discussing much more important offices.”
When they were gone, Dylan went back into his office and sank into the desk chair. So the powers that be had decided to place a bet on his future. They thought he could make something of himself here. He tapped a pencil on the desk. Was he ready to take this step? So soon?
He reached for the phone. He needed to talk to someone else about this. Someone who’d have a better idea than he did of what the town was like these days. Taylor answered on the third ring. “Have dinner with me,” he said as soon as she answered the phone. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“What is it?” She sounded wary.
“I’ve been asked to run for school board.”
She laughed. “You’re kidding!”
“I’m not kidding. A delegation of leading citizens came to my office this afternoon, wanting to back me as a candidate.”
“They obviously have excellent tastes. Congratulations.”
“I haven’t agreed to run yet.” He leaned back, phone cradled on his shoulder. “So you think I’d make a good school-board member?”
“You’d be good at anything you decided to do.”
“What about dinner?” And maybe afterward, dessert, with a certain enticing English teacher….
“I can’t. I have a senior study group that meets after school. Tonight’s our pizza party.”
“Did they do that when we were in school?”
“As a matter of fact, I started it. Why don’t you join us?”
“A study group?” He lowered his voice to a sexy growl. “The only thing I’m interested in studying is you.”
“There’ll be time for that, I promise. Seriously, you should come over and have pizza with us.”
“All right. I like pizza.” Seeing Taylor in her own element, interacting with the kids, might be a blast.
“Five o’clock in the language lab. Oh, and we have a surprise for you.”
“Darlin’, you’ve had nothing but surprises for me.” He dragged the words out in an exaggerated, blatantly sexy drawl. “Does this involve lace lingerie and handcuffs?”
Her throaty laugh made him warm all over. “No, but you’ll like it just the same. See you then.”
“You bet.” He hung up the phone, then grabbed a legal pad to make a list of things he’d need to do if he did decide to launch a campaign. While he was at it, he’d better make a note to pick up another box of condoms. He was going to need them to keep up with Taylor.
7
BY LATE AFTERNOON Taylor was wondering about the wisdom of inviting Dylan to the school. Wouldn’t it be smarter to keep her relationship with him separate from her real life? She’d planned her time with him as an interlude of pure fantasy, something to be enjoyed for its own sake. Having him step into her everyday routine made things too confusing.
Then there was the whole gossip question to deal with. It was one thing to have people speculating on what they were up to—quite another to appear together openly as a “couple.” He was thinking of entering local politics and she was headed off to England. When she left, people would assume they’d had some kind of falling out. No one would ever believe they’d never planned to stay together in the first place.
“Do you think Mr. Gates will be pleased we’ve decided to study his dad’s book?” Patrice set a stack of paper plates on the table at the front of the classroom and walked over to where Taylor was laying out pads of paper and pens. The purpose of this meeting was to brainstorm ideas for an end-of-semester project her class would present at a public assembly. It was a chance for the students to show off for the community and for the community to see what their tax dollars were paying for.
“The book hasn’t been approved yet,” Taylor said. “I still have to talk to Mr. Murphy.”
“He’ll approve it, I know.” She grinned.
Taylor glanced at the girl. Today Patrice wore a navel-baring T-shirt and low-slung jeans. The kind of thing Taylor would have worn at that age, if that had been the fashion. “What makes you so sure of that?”
“He wouldn’t say no to you. He’s in awe of you. All the male teachers are.” She giggled. “You ought to see them gawking at you when you walk down the hall. They think they’re so cool, but they’re really pathetic.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who’s cool, totally ignoring them all. It’s like the magazines all say—that makes them want you all the more.”
Taylor looked away, not entirely comfortable with having her personal relationships analyzed this way. But then, that was high school for you. Everyone watched everyone else, like a giant study lab of human behavior.
“So, do you think Mr. Gates will be pleased we’re studying his father’s book?” Patrice asked again.
She nodded. “I’m sure he will be.” At least she hoped so. The other night it had been obvious Dylan was still hurt by the town’s ill treatment of his father. Would it make him feel better to know a new generation was interested in Sam’s work?
The door opened and a group of students burst into the room, instantly filling the space with their energy. Berk was at the head of the pack and he headed straight for Taylor’s desk. “You’re really stylin’ this afternoon, Ms. Reed. Teachers should wear jeans more often.”
Taylor smoothed her hands down her hips, conscious of the formfitting denim. She didn’t usually bother to change clothes for these meetings, but knowing Dylan would be here, she’d gone home and selected a more casual outfit. Something more flattering than the denim jumper she’d worn earlier. She’d even slipped into sexier underwear, just in case. The black lace thong was a constant reminder of the possibilities for this evening, once she and Dylan were alone….
Her heart sped up at the thought. Planning like this lent a sharper edge to desire, made her feel truly wild and wanton—definitely not something she experienced in her everyday life as a mild-mannered English teacher. Was it the fantasies they were re-creating, or the man himself, who made her feel this way? She grabbed up her planner and began reading down the columns. That was a question she wasn’t prepared to answer.
All conversation stopped as Dylan stepped into the room. Dressed in tight jeans and T-shirt, his hair falling across his forehead, he might have been walking into a classroom from his high school days, the most popular guy on campus commanding everyone’s attention.
The girls in Taylor’s class reacted the same way girls always had to Dylan’s raw sex appeal, huddling together on one side of the room, staring at him and nudging one another. The boys assumed poses of unconscious imitation, straightening their shoulders and puffing out their chests.
One difference from their high school days struck Taylor: before she’d stood in the background, wanting what she couldn’t have. Today, she knew Dylan was hers. At least for the next few weeks or months. At least in the bounds of this fantasy they were playing out together. She didn’t dare think beyond that.
She struggled to keep her expression neutral, while her heart beat faster and her nerves hummed. She tucked her hair behind one ear and moved toward him, feeling his gaze on her like a caress. “You’re just in time,” she said. “The pizza should be here any minute.”
“Pistol Pete’s Pizza?” He named their favorite class hangout.
She laughed. “Of course.”
“They had Pistol Pete’s when you went to school here?” Jessica asked.
“They’ve had Pistol Pete’s forever,” Dale said. “My dad talks about going there when he was a kid.”
“They’ll probably have Pistol Pete’s when your kids go to school here,” Dylan said.
Patrice made a face. “Little Dales? There’s a scary thought.”
“Everyone, this is Dylan Gates,” Taylor interrupted. “Dylan, these are some of my senior English students. I’ll let you all introduce yourselves while we eat.”
As if on cue, the delivery man from Pistol Pete’s arrived, five insulated pizza bags stacked in his arms.
“You can bring the pizza over here,” Taylor directed.
“Let me help.” Dylan started distributing pizzas while Taylor handed out napkins. He helped serve the food and drinks. Once he looked across the table and winked at her. Mortified, Taylor blushed, while Jessica and the other girls giggled.
