by Kylie Brant
The hair on the back of Michael’s neck rose as he watched Derek spring into action. The man was polished, there was no denying it, and he’d seen the effect that adroit charm could have on women. Derek wasn’t discriminating; he felt the need to impress every woman he came across. And Kate made a definite impression herself, even dressed as she was. He watched her carefully for her reaction, but Derek’s introduction elicited nothing but polite interest. His muscles un-bunched slowly.
“Derek, this is Kate Rose. She’s been kind enough to take pity on Chloe and help her fix up her bedroom.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Kate said politely.
Derek stared at her. “Kate Rose.”
She exchanged a look with Michael. “Yes.”
“You’re…Chloe’s teacher?”
She nodded, but Derek’s gaze swung to Michael, as if to validate her answer. When Michael inclined his head, Derek looked back at her. “Well, I have to tell you, Kate, that if I’d had a teacher who looked like you when I was in the first grade, I would have been heartbroken to be promoted to the second.”
His voice carefully bland, Michael said, “Chloe, why don’t you help Miss Rose find Trask. He’ll show you where to wash the brushes out in the basement.”
“Okay.” Chloe was plainly delighted to have a reason to escape the adult conversation. “C’mon, Miss Rose.” She dashed from the room, and Kate followed her.
Derek watched them exit, then turned to his boss with a wide smile on his face.
Michael waited with resignation for his reaction. It wasn’t slow coming.
“Well, you’ve been even busier than I thought. What have you been up to, working during the day and getting tutored at night?” His chuckle was loaded with meaning.
“You’ve got a predictable mind, Latham. You know how hard it is to say no to Chloe. Kate was kind enough to agree to help her out with her bedroom.”
“When she finishes in Chloe’s bedroom, will she be starting in yours?” Derek inquired.
With effort, Michael kept his temper in check. The fact that it took effort didn’t escape him. He was used to the innuendos and the one-track mind Derek could have when it came to women. But he never recalled wanting to bury his fist into the man’s perfect capped teeth for making a suggestive remark before. “You’re way off base, Derek. She’s a nice woman, going out of her way for a student. It would be a stretch, even for you, to make something dirty out of it.”
Derek held his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, just kidding. She’s a damn good-looking woman, though. I know that hasn’t escaped your attention. I take back everything I said before about schoolteachers. I could easily become—what was your word?—intrigued by her myself.”
“I don’t think you’re her type.”
Derek gave him a knowing grin. “Staking a claim, boss?”
Irritation, tightly banked only a moment ago, seeped into his voice. “If you don’t get out of my den in five seconds, you’re going to be free to stake a claim yourself—in the unemployment line.”
Unperturbed, Derek reached for his briefcase. “On my way.” At the doorway, he paused. “If you learn anything new, you’ll teach me, right?” He ducked out of the room, chortling at his own wit.
Michael dropped back into his chair, staring at the wall broodingly. He didn’t spend a lot of time in self-analysis, but even he could recognize the emotion that had threatened to choke him as soon as Derek had laid eyes on Kate. Although unfamiliar, it was easily identifiable. Pure, unadulterated jealousy.
Serious, gorgeous, sexy Kate Rose had something that set his pulse pounding.
And Derek had been right about one thing. He was definitely staking a claim.
“Pay me?” Kate could feel her blood pressure rise threateningly. Her eyes narrowed and shot daggers at Michael.
“You will not pay me for helping Chloe. I wanted to do it, and I enjoyed myself. I was happy to…”
The rest of her words were muffled by the placement of Michael’s fingers against her lips. Amusement curled his mouth and tinged his words. “You didn’t let me finish, Kate. May I finish?”
Shock held her immobile for a few seconds at the feel of those warm fingers, large, yet curiously gentle, pressed against her mouth. Even after she gave a stiff, self-conscious nod, he seemed slow to remove his touch. When he did, his fingers left a lingering warmth in their wake.
“I wasn’t offering to write you a check. Not that your help hasn’t been worth it,” he added. “But I would like to do something to repay you for all the time you’ve given to Chloe. So how about it? Will you have dinner with me? If you like seafood, Masterson’s Wharf is great.”
Kate blinked at him, trying to still the foolish leap of her heart that his words had elicited. Michael Friday moved in a world that was totally outside of her experience. The man had the wealth and power to be a player in corporate takeovers and multimillion-dollar contracts. He emanated energy and confidence. He was also, undoubtedly, the most mind-numbingly, knee-shakingly sexy man she’d ever had occasion to meet. Have dinner with him?
“No,” she heard herself say, as if from a distance, “I can’t have dinner with you, Mr. Friday.”
“Mr. Friday,” he repeated, his voice husky. “Have I been demoted? A few minutes ago I was Michael.”
Feeling a blush heat her cheeks, Kate persisted. “I don’t need any repayment. I helped because I wanted to.”
“I don’t want you to think of the dinner as repayment, Kate,” he chided. “It would hardly do justice for all you’ve done for us, at any rate. But you’re right, I would like to at least thank you.”
She shook her head again with finality, fighting off an absurd sense of disappointment. It had been surprisingly difficult to work here almost daily for the last couple of weeks with him around. He’d had a habit of showing up to check on her and Chloe’s progress unexpectedly, sending her pulse scampering. Now that she was finished with the help she’d promised the little girl, there should be very little reason for the two of them to see each other.
Just then an earsplitting shriek sounded and the front door slammed. Michael winced and sent her a crooked smile. “Speak of the sweet little devil…” He began to talk rapidly as Chloe’s footsteps came closer. “I promised to take Chloe to the movie tonight, and tomorrow I have to work all day. She’ll be at her mother’s after school. I could pick you up at six-thirty, I’ll get reservations for seven. We’ll be two adults having a quiet, uninterrupted meal. C’mon, Kate, how about it?” He finished the sentences in a rush, just as Chloe slid to a halt beside them, her voice still raised with excitement.
“Dad, Dad, Miss Rose, guess what? I taught Rosy to eat sugar cubes right out of my hand, and it doesn’t hurt at all, it kinda tickles, and know what I’m going to teach her next? Guess! Guess what?”
Michael fixed her with a look of polite interest. “To roll over?”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Da-a-d! I’m going to teach her to come when I whistle, that’s what. Hank is teaching me to whistle, and listen to this.” She screwed up her face, stuck a finger in both sides of her mouth and blew. The sound that emerged was reminiscent of a screech from a set of bagpipes. Michael winced again, and Kate recoiled a little.
After a moment, Chloe took her fingers from her mouth and looked from one to the other of them eagerly. “Well, what do you think?”
“You’re a very…enthusiastic whistler,” Kate said gravely.
“I can tell you’ve been practicing.”
The little girl nodded. “Uh-huh, and Hank says if I keep on practicing day and night, I’ll be so good Rosy will know my whistle and come to me.”
“Not in the house, okay, small fry?” her dad said. “Do your practicing outside, all right?”
“But, Dad!” Chloe wailed. “Hank says day and night. And Miss Rose always says if we want to be good at something we have to practice, right, Miss Rose?”
Kate smiled gently and said, “I think it’s time for me to go.” She heade
d toward the door, pausing to retrieve her coat from the front closet.
“Are you in a hurry, Kate?” Michael inquired, trailing after her with his hands shoved in his jeans pocket. Chloe chose that moment to try another whistle, and a pained look settled on his face.
“Lots to do,” she replied, slipping into her jacket. As Chloe whistled again, her pace quickened.
Michael’s hand beat hers to the doorknob, halting her escape. “Coward,” he murmured, his lips close to her ear.
Kate turned her head and looked at him uncertainly. What was he referring to? Her hasty departure or her refusal of his dinner invitation? His body seemed to surround her, even though they weren’t touching, and he felt like a furnace. The warmth lured her; all she would have to do was lean back a fraction of an inch and she’d be pressed against him, would feel that heat firsthand. She held herself rigid.
“Am I going to have to send the whistler home to serenade you, or are you going to have dinner with me?” he asked.
She slid a glance at Chloe, who looked ready to launch into another high-pitched noise. The idea occurred to her that her opportunities to speak to Michael were diminishing as Chloe’s room neared completion. And she very much wanted to find out if he was any closer to taking her advice about making a doctor’s appointment for his daughter.
Her gaze met his. His eyes were alight with purpose, and she knew that he had never accepted her refusal; giving up wasn’t something this man would do easily.
“What do you say, Kate?” he asked again.
His gaze tracked her lips as they formed the words.
“I say…yes.”
Kate had ample time to regret her decision as she got dressed that evening. Michael’s nearness must have overpowered her usually logical thinking processes, she decided. She should have set up a conference at school to discuss Chloe with him, although with his propensity for missed appointments, it was just as likely that he would forget it. She and Chloe were almost done with her bedroom, and there was only one more week of school left. After that, she would never have occasion to see Michael again. She owed it to the little girl to push aside her uneasiness at being alone with Michael and use the opportunity to discuss his decision with him.
She’d never been to the restaurant Michael had mentioned, but she’d heard about it. It had a reputation for outstanding food, outrageous prices and snooty waiters. The narrow black dress she’d selected was the dressiest thing she owned. It had long sleeves and a scooped neckline and was made from a fabric that skimmed but didn’t cling. She picked up two jet combs and fastened her hair back on both sides. Casting one last doubtful eye at her reflection, Kate left the bedroom before she could change her mind, and her clothes, again.
The pounding on her front door heralded Michael’s arrival. She opened the door, and conscious thought deserted her.
She’d gotten used to seeing him in jeans and sneakers. She thought the casual wear must accentuate his strength, make him appear bigger, tougher, more dangerous. She’d been wrong.
The double-breasted gray suit he was wearing had to have been tailor-made for his muscled form. It fit his wide chest and shoulders to perfection. The white shirt and muted tie should have lent him an air of tamed civility. It failed to do so. Though his unruly tawny hair had been forced to a semblance of order, and he’d apparently recently shaved, he looked no less lethal. More so, really. All that power and presence forced into a polished package gave him a barely leashed energy that fairly crackled in the air between them.
Swallowing convulsively, Kate took an involuntary step backward. Michael followed, stepping into her hallway and immediately shrinking the area with his size.
His hazel eyes reflected the admiration in his voice. “You look fantastic.”
So do you, she thought a little wildly. Murmuring her thanks, she turned blindly to the closet, staring at the contents without seeing them. This was a mistake, a huge one. What had she been thinking? It would have been infinitely safer to confer about Chloe at school or on the phone, anyplace where she wouldn’t have to face that megawatt energy focused totally on her. Used to having the force of his personality defused by Chloe’s or Trask’s presence, she’d allowed herself to forget the sheer power of his regard. It was like being caught in an electrically charged field.
His arm reached past her then, and she started a little. He pulled her long black leather coat from its hanger and held it out for her. When she didn’t move immediately, his eyebrow climbed.
“Is this coat all right?”
Her gaze met his for an instant. “Yes,” she said, allowing him to help her with the coat. “Thank you.” She stepped away from him as soon as she was able, using the opportunity to button up her coat. Michael wasn’t wearing one, she noticed. Apparently that furnacelike heat he radiated was a sort of personal insulation.
“Kate?” His voice was quizzical.
Her gaze flew to meet his.
“Do you need anything else before we leave?”
She shook her head and then remembered her purse. Flushing, she backtracked to pick it up from the hallway table. He was holding the door open, waiting for her to precede him.
“We’ll leave right away, if that’s okay with you. I left the Jag running, and I’m double-parked. It will probably take us the full half hour to get to Masterson’s. Do you have your house key?”
“Yes, of course, but there’s no reason to worry. I keep a spare in back of the mailbox.”
A genuinely pained expression crossed his face. “You must know how risky that is.”
She walked by, leaving him to pull the door closed behind him. “Not as risky as finding myself locked out some night.”
Seated in the powerful car, Kate discreetly ran her hand over the smooth leather seat. The luxury was hard not to appreciate. Then Michael was folding his long length into the vehicle, and nerves began to cluster again. He put the car into gear and it moved forward smoothly.
“Would you mind putting a CD in?” he asked. “The case is on the seat next to you.” He flipped on a courtesy light, and she quickly made a selection and slipped it in the player. He pressed a button and they were shrouded in darkness again as the strains of the saxophone music filled the car.
“So, what did you do all day, since you didn’t have to spend the afternoon engaged in slave labor for Chloe?”
Amusement laced her voice. “As taskmasters go, she’s not quite up there with Simon Legree yet. But I had some free time, so I spent the day studying for my comps.”
“Your what?”
“Comprehensive exams,” she explained. “They’ll complete my master’s degree. I’ve already completed the coursework requirements. The exams will take place in another six weeks.”
“That’s quite an accomplishment.” There was no mistaking the admiration in his voice. “You took courses while you were teaching?”
“One night a week during the school year, and two classes each summer.”
“Well, congratulations. Sounds like a lot of hard work. You’ll really have something to celebrate when you finish up.” He launched into a hilarious recounting of his exploits during his college years, and it would have been impossible for her to remain on edge when she was helpless with laughter.
“I don’t believe you,” she exclaimed after one particularly outlandish tale. “You could have been thrown out for pulling a stunt like that.”
“The dean was really never able to pin it on me,” he explained. “But I have to admit that particular prank had a profound effect on me. Scared me enough to keep me out of trouble for a while, anyway. I couldn’t afford to lose my football scholarship over a goat.”
“Well, I’m glad you came to your senses about the value of your education,” she teased. “Even if it did take livestock to convince you.”
By the time they were ushered to a table in the restaurant and she was seated across from Michael, the fluttering in her stomach had calmed. Until she opened the menu and saw the price
s. She swiftly calculated that the combined price of their meals would be a close equivalent to the amount she spent on groceries for two weeks.
“What will you have, Kate?” Michael inquired.
A coronary, she answered silently. Nothing could have pointed out so vividly the differences between them. He was a man used to money and the luxuries it could buy. Her idea of a meal out was pizza or fast food.
“If you’re having trouble deciding, the seafood platter has a little of everything. I’ve had it here—it’s very good.”
At her nod he gave their orders to the tux-clad waiter and then turned back to her and grinned. “You know, when I was a grubby kid I used to dream about coming to places like this to eat. Now that I can afford it, I always have to fight an overwhelming urge to do something to shock the staff out of those professional masks of superiority.”
He surprised a smile from her. “I know what you mean. Where’s a goat when you need one?”
He reached over and clasped her hand. “What could we do to force a human emotion from these tuxedoed wax stiffs, hmm? A run through the fountain, maybe? A tap dance on the buffet table?”
“Either should do the trick.” Growing serious, she asked, “Why do you come here if you don’t like the atmosphere?”
“The food is great, but they don’t do takeout,” he said simply. Spreading his hands, he added, “Believe me, I asked. And I’m not easily intimidated.”
That she could believe. If there was intimidation to be done, this man would do it. Although he wore his most charming persona this evening, she’d had an up close encounter with his temper and sensed the determination he was capable of. He would make a dangerous enemy.
He would make a dangerous lover.
The thought jolted her, suffusing her with heat. She wasn’t in the habit of picturing men she barely knew in such a role. She wasn’t, in fact, used to picturing any man in such a role. But the uncustomary thought brought her back to reality. It would be all too easy to let herself be lulled by her surroundings, to bask in his attention. But her purpose for coming here tonight was for Chloe.
