Charade

by Lori Foster

  After helping a little girl catch the rhythm of the exercise, he wandered between all the children, checking to see if anyone else needed help. But even as he did that, he kept his gaze on Carlie, watching her every move.

  When they finally broke up into teams, Carlie taking four girls and the biggest boy, Tyler with four boys, he announced they would play “shirts and skins.” He led the boys in stripping off their shirts, then noticed Carlie staring. She tightened her mouth and blushed bright red when he caught her eye. He was amused, but he also liked the idea of her liking his body. Walking toward her, seeing her back up a step before she could stop herself, Tyler grinned. When he reached her, he slipped a fingertip over her lips, then chucked her chin, all without a single word. She closed her mouth with a snap, stomping to the other side of the hoop. But still, she looked her fill.

  Later, after each of the children had taken a few practice shots, Tyler pulled Carlie aside. “They’re well-behaved. Only a few of them are a little rambunctious.” He laughed. “I heard one of the boys daring another to do a few...indiscreet things. They saw me looking and changed their minds.”

  “Just remember that when the novelty wears off and they get used to you. They can become a little more than rambunctious.”

  There were several occasions to point out misconduct, ranging from offensive language to shoving. Once, Tyler had to break up a skirmish between two of the boys. By the time six o’clock rolled around, Tyler was beat and Carlie looked exhausted.

  But still, she took the time to make certain each child was bundled up properly. She helped with tying shoes, answered numerous questions and convinced one little boy that he didn’t really want to hit another, just because the child had sneezed on him.

  Then she gave the sneezer a tissue.

  “I’m impressed,” Tyler told her, his eyes on her flushed face. “You’re really good with kids. You never once lost your temper.”

  She shrugged off his compliment. “I enjoy them. They’re fun, and honest to a fault.”

  Tyler felt a tug on his hand, and looked down at a little girl named Lucy. She was smiling at him, showing him the stuck zipper on her coat. He helped her get her coat closed, then tweaked her nose. As he started to stand, she threw her skinny arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. “Thank you, Mr. Ramsey. I had fun.”

  Surprised, he looked toward Carlie, then ruffled the girl’s tangled hair. “I did too, Lucy.” She giggled, and Tyler grinned at her. “You’ll be here Monday?”

  “Yes, sir.” She skipped away, leaving Tyler to stare after her.

  “Whatever could that little girl have done to deserve detention? She’s a doll.”

  Carlie waved goodbye to the last little boy, watching as he climbed into his parent’s car, before allowing the heavy gym door to close. She turned to Tyler, chuckling softly. “Lucy has a problem with her language. She could make a sailor blush when she puts her mind to it. Personally, I think she just wants attention. Her father took off about a year ago, and her mother has her hands full trying to take care of five kids, all under the age of fifteen. Lucy sort of falls into the middle of the group.”

  Tyler turned away, his left hand rubbing the muscles of his neck. “I hate hearing stories like that. They make me want to strangle somebody.” He began idly bouncing the ball, just to give his hands something to do and his mind something to focus on other than the problems of innocent children. But it didn’t work. The issue was a sensitive one with him. “Why is it the kids who have to get hurt?”

  “It’s always the ones who are most vulnerable. That’s simply human nature.” She shrugged philosophically, then took him by surprise, snatching the basketball out of his hands and dribbling it across the court.

  Tyler watched her antics, knowing she was trying to distract him, and appreciating her efforts. Being with the children today reminded him of his own childhood. It had been rough for him and Jason, and when they’d become teenagers it had only gotten worse. Tyler had always pretended with his friends, bragging about the freedom he and Jason had, making it sound as if raising themselves had been a lark. And he had refused to admit to the embarrassment of having a mother who was the town “lightskirt.”

  God, it had been hard. Luckily, he’d had Jason. But it wasn’t the same. Children needed an adult to look up to, someone they respected and who cared about them.

  These kids had Carlie, but he wanted to help, too, wanted to make a difference.

  “All right, Tyler,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “Enough moping over things you can’t change. I hereby challenge you to a little one-on-one. The first to make ten baskets wins.”

  His grin was slow and filled with wicked delight. He put his hands on his hips, watching Carlie as she continued to expertly dribble the ball. “What are we betting?”

  “That I can beat the pants off you.” Her tone was smug and taunting. And then she understood exactly what she’d said. She flushed scarlet.

  “My pants? Well, Ms. McDaniels! It wasn’t enough to ogle me without my shirt? You want to strip me of all modesty?”

  “That would be impossible.” Her face was still hot, but she began dribbling the ball again. “You don’t possess any modesty and probably never have.”

  His grin widened. He approached her slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. “I’m ready when you are, sweetheart. But the stakes have to be worthwhile. Say...dinner? At the winner’s choice of place?”

  Carlie gave him a confident smile. She did a fancy little feat of bouncing the ball behind her back, then between her knees, before shouting suddenly, “You’re on.” She raced down the court, scoring the first basket before he realized the game had started.

  “Oh, ho! Getting tricky on me, huh? I like a woman who can take me by surprise.” Carlie faltered at his words, nearly losing the ball. Tyler lunged, staying right on her, his body looming over hers, his arms outreaching her, his legs able to cover the same amount of ground more quickly. Carlie claimed it was an even match.

  She was good, real good. She dunked the ball three times before he had a chance to score. Then he got serious. But all the while, he grinned. He felt better than he had in a very long time.

  They were both sweaty by the time the score was evened up, eight all. Tendrils of hair had come loose around Carlie’s face, sticking to her forehead and flushed cheeks. She looked done in, but still very determined to win. And she was laughing, obviously enjoying herself.

  Then Tyler accidentally hit her. He made to jump for the ball, and his elbow smacked against her temple. Stumbling backward, she landed on her butt, her glasses slipping off her nose and dropping into her lap.

  Tyler was horrified. “Oh, God, Carlie. I’m sorry!” He knelt beside her, taking her face in his hands, staring into her dazed eyes. Wide, hazel eyes. “Are you all right?”

  She managed a slight, shaky smile. “I’m okay.” Then she looked up at him.

  His eyes locked with hers, and his fingers moved an almost imperceptible amount. As he studied her, something seemed familiar, some memory tickling at the back of his mind. Those wide eyes....

  Then Carlie broke the contact, pulling away from his hands.

  “You knew you were about to lose, right? That’s why you belted me?” Her voice shook, and she tried another grin, but it was a weak attempt. Tyler wondered how badly she was hurt.

  He was too busy trying to analyze the situation to answer right away. Carlie stuck her glasses firmly back on her nose, then called, “Yoo-hoo? Anybody home? Tyler?”

  Finally, he shook his head, chasing away the errant confusion. “Sorry. Here, let me help you up.”

  “I’m fine, Tyler. I don’t need any help.” He helped, anyway, giving Carlie no choice in the matter.

  He turned her, holding her chin in his palm. “Let me look at you. I think you have a lump coming up already.”

  She jerked away. “I told you, I’m fine. Quit fussing.”

  Tyler propped his hands on his hips, worried and fille
d with guilt. “I’ll concede the game. Dinner is on me.”

  Carlie looked down at herself, then shook her head. “Dressed like this? I don’t think so, but thanks, anyway.”

  Her refusal didn’t surprise him, but it did annoy him. “You have to eat. It’s been a long day.”

  “I have stew in the Crock-Pot at home. You’re free and clear.”

  He picked up his shirt, drying the sweat from his chest and arms with it. He didn’t particularly want to be free. “Stew sounds good. We bachelors don’t get a home-cooked meal all that often.”

  Carlie raised her eyes to his, a look of disbelief mirroring her thoughts.

  As hints went, his was blatantly clear and he held his breath while waiting to see what she would say.

  “You are wrangling me for an invite?”

  He shrugged, but the movement felt stiff. “I figure anyone who can play basketball as good as you, must surely be able to cook, too.”

  “Your logic escapes me, and besides, I don’t think I made enough.”

  It was almost as if she was challenging him. He wanted to spend more time with her, but she was determined to put him off. He didn’t like it, not one little bit. They would spend the evening together, despite the woman’s ridiculous reservations. “I’ll stop at the bakery and pick up some sourdough bread to go with it.”

  Carlie narrowed her eyes at his persistence. “Don’t you have some female somewhere waiting for you to call and check in?”

  “Nope. And I’m hopelessly lonely. Be kind, Carlie. Take me home.”

  “Like a stray dog? If I feed you once, will I have trouble getting rid of you?”

  He managed to look hurt. Shrugging his bare shoulders, he said, “Never mind. I didn’t mean to intrude. I just thought since we were both going home alone, we could share a meal. I had fun today. I don’t get to goof off all that often anymore, regardless of what you think.”

  Carlie froze. He knew she wouldn’t be able to handle hurting his feelings. Carlie was, despite her efforts to prove otherwise, a real softie. He watched her out of the corner of his eye and knew the moment she relented.

  “I had fun, too, Tyler. And I suppose it would be nice to have someone to chat with over dinner.”

  Tyler raised his head, all remnants of self-pity disappearing. “Terrific! I knew you could be reasonable.”

  “Why, you big fraud!”

  He simply laughed, not the least bit concerned with his deception. “Go get your things. I’ll follow you to your house.”

  He watched Carlie stomp away. He could see her silently fuming. Damn, but he enjoyed her company. She was prickly, independent, determined to do things her way. She didn’t pout, didn’t treat him to the silent bit. No, when Carlie had something to say—and she usually did—she said it. She was so unpredictable, so unexpected, she chased boredom right out the door.

  Chapter Five

  TYLER DROVE BEHIND Carlie, noting the slow, careful way she maneuvered her car. He was on the verge of laughing out loud. He shook his head, bemused. He couldn’t recall ever having such verbal skirmishes with a woman. Women didn’t react to him that way. But damned if he didn’t like it. It was fun.

  For that matter, Carlie was fun.

  And he’d never thought of a woman that way before. She appeared totally immune to his flirting, but it wasn’t because she was shy or withdrawn.

  On the contrary. She was one of the most outspoken women he’d ever met. And intelligent. He enjoyed her company.

  It was like having a pal¸ someone he could exchange mild insults with and still smile. But it was so utterly different with her being female. It was as if a whole new facet had been added to the relationship. It went a long way toward relieving his distraction over the mysterious—and missing—masked lady. And that in itself was a major feat.

  Carlie pulled into her driveway and parked beneath a carport. Tyler pulled up to the curb out front, then he stared. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, probably a mud-colored house with a barren expanse of lawn and not a single speck of color. She took him by surprise. Again.

  Her house was a small Cape Cod cottage nestled at the end of a narrow side street. A farmer’s fields were on the right side of the house, a heavily wooded area to the left. Behind and in front of the white-and-yellow wooden structure was a well-tended lawn. Daisies were blooming everywhere, and her mailbox was designed to look like a small, colorful barn.

  Tyler looked around, captivated. There was a tire swing hanging from the gnarled branch of an ancient oak off the back corner of the house. A curving porch circling to the right of the front door had a rattan porch swing attached to the overhang.

  “A real swinger, aren’t you?”

  Carlie shrugged as she dug her key from her purse. “I’m not an idle person. I don’t like to be still, even when I’m relaxing.”

  Tyler tried to imagine the classic picture of a woman superimposed with Carlie in a flowery dress, her hair loose, swaying in the breeze and humming softly while her bare feet maintained the gentle motion of the swing.

  He wasn’t quite that imaginative.

  The inside of her house was also a contrast, so different from the woman he was getting to know. There was little furniture, only the basic necessities. It was an eclectic mix of modern and antique, light oak and glass, chintz material and delicate doilies. There were no photographs, but there were framed prints of the most outrageous things. Each room appeared to have a theme.

  The living room was spring, with a large, brass-framed picture of a bee, busily collecting pollen from a daisy. Porcelain flowers decorated each tabletop and filled one curio cabinet.

  The dining room, which was minuscule, was decorated with birds. A border of them circled the room, a dainty, delicate figure sat looking over every corner, and in each plant, one peeked from between the leaves.

  The kitchen was whales.

  He raised his eyebrows at her in question. “How did you choose whales, may I ask?”

  Carlie had been busily putting their jackets on the coat tree and checking the stew. She looked at him over her shoulder as she lifted the Crock-Pot lid. “One of the children at school gave me one, once. I said I liked it, and...” She smiled.

  “They all decided to give you one?”

  “Each class seems to take it into their head that I need a new collection of something. But I don’t mind. It makes for consistent Christmas presents. There are bunnies in the bathroom and cats in my bedroom.”

  “What are you going to do when you run out of rooms?”

  She tilted her head. “Mix and match?”

  He smiled at her wit. “Can I help you set the table or something?”

  “No. You can turn on the television if you like. I’m just going to heat the bread and set the table.”

  Tyler wandered into the living room again. His attention was drawn to the television set and an array of DVDs sitting on top. He looked through them, and stopped when he spotted a “Work Out With the Oldies,” video. He carried it with him into the kitchen. “Whose is this?”

  Carlie paused in the process of serving the stew. “Mine. Who else would it belong to?”

  “You work out to the oldies?”

  “I like older music. It’s more fun than this new stuff kids listen to.”

  “So do you hop and jostle around in a pair of tights?”

  She smirked at his expression. “You’re looking at my workout clothes.” She spread her arms in the air. The shirt raised a bit and he caught a glimpse of the pale flesh of her belly.

  To his disbelief, and annoyance, he felt a brief spurt of interest. It had only been a flash, an instant of white skin, gone too quickly to really appreciate, if indeed, there had been anything there to appreciate.

  With the clothes she favored, it was hard to tell for certain. But she definitely had a large bosom. He’d established that today when she was exercising, her body bouncing in all the right places. And from that prominent point, her clothes fell almost straight
down, giving no hint of curves or dips and hollows.

  But her arms had felt slim when he’d shaken her the other day. And when she’d come into the house, she’d kicked off her shoes, showing narrow feet and trim ankles.

  It was simple curiosity, he decided, that was making him react to her. Not that he would ever consider doing anything about it. She was a schoolteacher, which was bad enough as far as dalliance went, but on top of that she was too damn prickly, and was his sister-in-law’s best friend, to boot. She was so far off the scale of available females, he knew he didn’t have to concern himself. But he did, anyway.

  He’d never met a woman so dedicated to a cause, so at ease with children and so giving. She was totally disinterested in his supposed prowess, in his community standing, in his reputation. All she wanted from him was his help in achieving a worthwhile goal.

  Disgruntled with his thoughts, and his overactive imagination that kept him guessing at her elusive figure, he stalked toward her and asked bluntly, “How much do you weigh?”

  Carlie halted in the middle of opening a package of butter. “That’s none of your business!”

  “You’re working out, so you must feel you need to lose some weight, right?”

  “Wrong. I work out to keep in shape. Everybody should.” She poked him in the middle. “Don’t you?”

  “Of course. But that’s different.”

  “Why?”

  “I go to a gym. I’m a man.”

  “Well, I can’t afford to go to some fancy gym. And no one ever told me being a man was synonymous with being outrageously snoopy and impertinent. I would have thought a man your age would have learned some manners by now.”

  It was her teacher’s voice again, and Tyler saw that he’d made her truly angry, though she was trying to hide it. He watched as she slammed bowls onto the table, then practically threw the spoons next to them.

  “What are you drinking?” he asked cautiously, waiting to see if she would end up throwing something at him.

  “I’m drinking milk. You can find yourself something in the refrigerator.”

  He did. Milk.

  After sitting down to eat in perfect, strained silence, he ventured, “I’m sorry...?”