by Sharon Sala
Reluctantly, Mara had agreed, but the arrangement made her nervous. How would it look if the PTO brigade or Mrs. Rhodes heard Adam was doing all this for her?
Mara used her key to unlock the back breezeway gate and walked into the ring of numbered doors, which were arranged in a circle around a grassy central courtyard. It still seemed odd to her to teach in a school where all the classrooms opened straight to the outdoors, though precipitation was so rare here, the weather hardly ever made the unusual layout a problem.
She gathered up her papers and was finishing her plans when someone tapped at her door. “There is no escape,” she mumbled, figuring one of the moms had seen her car.
Instead, it was a dad. When she opened the door, Adam Jakes was standing there looking handsome as sin in a fatigue-style shirt and jeans that fit him in a way schoolteachers weren’t supposed to notice.
He grinned down at her, looking all too aware of the childish crush he’d resurrected. “Hey there, feeling any better? You’re looking good.”
“Much better, thank you. Though I’m sure anything’s an improvement over the red nose and pink bathrobe.”
“My fault for showing up unannounced. And I’m kind of partial to a woman in terrycloth.”
She frowned to cover the blasted blush that followed. “What brings you here on a Saturday?”
He hooked a thumb in the direction of the library. “Caught in the flypaper. Babzilla conned me into thinking there’d be a slew of dads up here to work on carnival stuff. Instead, there’s only me.”
Mara nearly choked on laughter. “You call Barbara Fairmont Babzilla?”
A wicked grin lit his dark eyes. “Not to her face, believe me. So can I come in before I’m spotted? I told them I had to duck out for a call.”
Stepping back, she sketched a curtsy. “I grant thee sanctuary. I needed to talk to you anyway.”
“Sure, Mara.” No “Miss Stillwater” here, with the door closing behind him. Closing the two of them in alone.
Palms damp as a nervous schoolgirl’s, Mara was all too aware this was the first time in fifteen years—or possibly ever—that had happened. Forget it, she told herself. Just remember what you have to tell him. But it was tough to focus, with her hormones running around high-fiving each another like a bunch of cheerleaders.
She gave the squad a mental shake and willed herself to grow up. “I want to tell you how very much I appreciate what you’ve done, Adam. It’s incredibly nice of you.”
He slanted an amused look her way. “Do I hear a but in there?”
“I’ve enjoyed talking to you. I really have, but this attention’s making me uncomfortable. You are, blurring the line between what I’m doing professionally for Rebecca and—”
“Wonders.” Solemnity drove the playfulness from his voice. “You’re doing wonders for her. It’s unbelievable, the difference. I know she still has a long way to go, but some days, Mara, I think you’ve saved my daughter’s life.”
A stillness fell between them, a hush she measured in the ticking of the wall clock, the beating of her heart.
Do something, she told herself, before this goes any further.
“Children really are resilient” she heard herself saying. “They’re programmed for survival. A lot of Rebecca’s recovery is only natural, a result of your love and patience and time.”
He moved closer, so close she could smell the clean scent of his aftershave and feel the heat of him, a palpable presence against her sensitized skin. “You don’t understand,” he said. “Until late August, I could hardly get her to make eye contact, much less talk to anyone. I tried a counselor, a child psychologist—even a psychiatrist in Flagstaff who recommended medication. But when you started those art lessons…”
“It’s gratitude you’re feeling,” Mara said, willing herself to take a step back but somehow going nowhere.
“Not just gratitude. Haven’t you noticed how easy it is to talk and smile when we’re together? You don’t know the last time I laughed the way I did last week when you told me how that little boy complained Cody Fairmont had kicked him in his ovaries.”
She grinned before reminding herself that Cody’s bullying—and poor Jason’s bruised testicles—were no laughing matter.
“I’m your child’s teacher.” She fought to still the quaver in her voice. “Not the little girl who used to follow you around and stare at you through Coke-bottle glasses.”
“You think I see a little girl here?” He reached toward her face, his callused fingers skimming her cheek as he moved even closer. Close enough to kiss, she thought, her heartbeat picking up speed.
As he searched her eyes, she felt him looking for the slightest indication that she wanted what he wanted, what they had both wanted almost from the first moment they had reconnected.
But it was Adam who first pulled his hand from hers and turned away. “I’m sorry. It’s still—this is crazy. It’s way too soon for me to feel…what I think I’m feeling. It can’t be real, not already.”
“You mean after Christine.”
He flinched to hear her name, so Mara laid her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. It’s only—I’ve been thinking the same thing. I was engaged, Adam. We were supposed to be married in June.”
“I know,” he told her.
“What? Did Trace…?”
Adam shook his head. “I still have some family back in Sea Shores. When I mentioned I’d run into you, my aunt told me.”
In his expression, Mara saw that the woman must have mentioned the gossip in their hometown. Sickened and ashamed, she dropped her gaze. “How long have you known?”
He shrugged. “A couple months or so.”
“But you didn’t mention it to anyone?”
“Why would I? It wasn’t your fault your fiancé turned out to be a thief.”
“The worst kind.” Seeing that Adam didn’t know all of it, she explained, “He abused the trust his parents spent decades building in their furniture business. Stole their customers’ identities from their credit applications. And snorted everything he stole up his nose.”
Shaking her head, she added bitterly, “I didn’t even have a clue he used drugs.”
“He abused your trust, too,” Adam emphasized. “And as far as I’m concerned, what happened is no one’s business but yours. Heaven knows, I’ve found out this past year how much rumors hurt. And I don’t for a minute believe you had anything to do with your ex’s criminal behavior.”
She looked up, capturing his gaze and captured by it at the same time, so she could barely find breath enough to speak. “I want you to know I feel exactly the same way. About you, I mean.”
He turned away, his body tensing, but Mara had already glimpsed the pain flashing through his eyes, a pain he usually covered, like a stone bruise to the soul.
She ran her palm along his forearm. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted you to know—”
Whether it was her touch or what she was saying, Adam turned abruptly and pulled her into his strong arms, claiming her mouth with a kiss that roared straight through her. There was nothing tentative or tame about it, nothing but the sear of heat and the taste of a lifetime’s pent-up longing.
Forgetting where she was, who she was, Mara tilted back her head and gave in to the impulse, her lips parting to his questing tongue, a moan starting low in her throat. His hands inflamed her further, moving from her back to slide along the flare of her hips, then cup her buttocks and pull her even closer.
She ached inside, feeling the pressure of his hardness against her stomach…feeling herself, feeling both of them, swiftly losing control. And loving every second as he backed her against the desk, his hands fumbling to unbutton her top, then unhook her bra as he kissed his way down toward her aching nipples…
The door to her classroom swung open. “Adam Jakes, I thought I saw you heading this—”
The woman’s gasp, the choked sound of her outrage, had Mara pulling away from Adam, turning to hide her bare breasts.<
br />
Too late. The damage had been done, as she heard Barbara Fairmont’s furious, “You can absolutely bet, Miss Stillwell, that Jillian Rhodes will be hearing about your extracurricular activities.”
Chapter 4
“W ait, Barbara,” Adam called after the blonde as the woman’s heels pounded a receding rhythm on the sidewalk. “You need to listen.”
She wheeled to face him, her flaming face in stark contrast to today’s poison-green ensemble. “If you’re trying to explain, don’t bother. Your actions have already done it for you. I’ve wondered for weeks about all your after-school visits to that classroom, especially since you’ve been far too busy to return my calls.”
“I am busy. Trying to get the first phase of my project running and attempting to help my daughter move past what happened to her mother.”
“Of course you are. And I take it our Miss Stillwell has been helping you. Offering her sympathy, as well as a soft—”
“There’s no need to go there. Mara and I are both unattached adults. Two people who have known each other for a long time.”
“Long enough to imagine she might have heard about your money—and your recent widowhood. For all we know, she orchestrated this little reunion so she could—”
“She’s done nothing of the sort,” Adam insisted through clenched teeth. “She’s a wonderful teacher and a fine woman.”
Barbara rolled her eyes. “She’s an absolute disaster. Trying to turn my Cody into a little priss.”
Adam thought the kid, who’d spent most of first grade terrorizing Rebecca and others, could use a little milquetoast in his diet. Along with consistent discipline and possibly horse tranquilizers. But he held back, knowing Barbara could make life miserable for Mara. “Red Bluff’s lucky to have her,” he managed.
Something ugly settled into Barbara’s gaze. “The way you were about to have her back in that classroom?”
“There’s no need to be crude.” Anger rumbled through his words, but he felt a stab of shame, too. What kind of man was he to have put a woman like Mara in such a situation? Their kiss had been explosive, burning every vestige of control from his mind, but she certainly deserved better than a hurried roll atop a hard metal desk. A hell of a lot better.
“I’m so sorry, Adam,” Barbara told him, and to his shock, he saw tears in her eyes, vulnerability making her Botoxed beauty almost human. “Believe me, the last thing I want to do is quarrel. Especially with you… You have to know, as one of Christine’s closest friends, I feel compelled to make certain you’re—”
“One of Christine’s closest friends?” That was news to him. He remembered his wife complaining about Barbara snubbing her offer to help out at some function.
Barbara shrugged and leaned forward, displaying those assets emphasized by her tight sweater. “Well, perhaps I overstated our relationship a little. But there’s no exaggerating my compassion for your loss. I know what it’s like to be alone, Adam. I know what it’s like, and I despise it.”
Through what he now realized were crocodile tears, she smiled at him, the predatory gleam in her eyes assuring him she wasn’t about to let some brand-new teacher beat her to her intended target.
He warned her with a stern look. “I appreciate your…concern, but it’s not necessary. And you should be aware that I consider Mara Stillwell a close friend.”
Barbara opened her mouth, no doubt to say something cutting, but he didn’t give her a chance.
“You go after her…” he said, “and you go after me. And I promise you, I’ll take it very personally.”
You ever come across a snarling dog, never turn your back and run, Mara’s big brother had taught her, ’cause that’s the quickest way to end up bleeding.
With her face habanero hot, she wanted to flee anyway, or crawl into a hole somewhere to die. But her embarrassment was only temporary. If she turned tail rather than facing Barbara Fairmont, she might as well pack her bags and leave town now. And Mara was finished running. This time, if she went down, she swore she would do it fighting as bravely as her brother served their country.
She fixed her clothing, gathered her things, and left the classroom, just in time to hear Adam finish defending her to Barbara Fairmont. In the fierceness of his gaze and the harshness of his tone, Mara saw a strong protector, but his dark eyes softened the moment they found hers.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” She sounded more confident than she felt. “And I’d like to apologize, Mrs. Fairmont. Certainly, what you witnessed was meant to be a private moment.”
“In a public building,” Barbara answered crisply before darting a nervous glance at Adam.
“Yes, and that was inappropriate. I’m sorry you were upset.”
“It’s unprofessional, Miss Stillwell. And it speaks volumes about your judgment. But…” Another glance at Adam, who was frowning, and she lifted her chin with a look of sheer defiance. “I’m willing to give you one more chance. Just keep in mind that I’ll be watching. Very carefully.”
“I understand.” Mara forced herself to meet Barbara’s gaze. “But I can assure you, I never make the same mistake twice.”
“Then we’ll just have to stay alert for new ones, won’t we?” With that, the blonde spun on her heel and clicked her way back toward the front of the building.
Adam started after her, but Mara caught his arm. “That’s enough, please. Don’t make things any worse. I appreciate the way you stuck up for me, but it’s really important that I deal with her myself.”
He gave her an appraising look, new respect dawning in his eyes. Once Barbara disappeared into the library he said, “I’m very sorry, Mara. I never meant—I certainly didn’t plan for anything like this to happen.”
“It wasn’t on my day’s to-do list, either.” She managed a smile. “But it’s done now, and it definitely was not a good idea. That woman has the principal’s ear, and you know Mrs. Rhodes is already on the fence about me.”
“I still can’t understand that.”
“It doesn’t matter right now. I just need to tell you—” Mara dragged in a steadying breath and gestured toward her classroom “—this can’t happen again, Adam. It won’t. Because even if I weren’t Rebecca’s teacher, I couldn’t do this right now. I’m working hard to put my life back together after what happened in New Jersey. I’m trying to find my footing in a new place. That’s enough on my plate. At least, it’s as much as I can handle.”
Though the day was clear and bright, his somber look cast her heart in shadow. “Is it enough?” he asked her, “Is all you’re really looking for survival? Because when I listen to you talk about your walks here, about the red rocks and the painted sky and the way the water gushes through the canyons in a rainstorm, I hear a woman who wants to really live.”
Mara pinched her lower lip between her teeth to ease the deeper pain of regret. “I’m sorry, Adam. I am, but I need to go back to being your daughter’s Miss Stillwell, and you need to be the father so busy with his work he has to send his housekeeper to come pick up his child.”
He studied her face before nodding. “All right, then. If that’s what you want…Miss Stillwell.”
As he turned and walked away from her, Mara stared after him and wondered how getting what she’d asked for could hurt so very much.
Her mind seething with regret and worry, Mara didn’t drive straight home but instead took the scenic loop that snaked among immense, red-orange formations. Against the blue November sky, the weathered rock stood stark and steady, just as it had through thousands of human generations. As it would stand long after she and her problems had all turned to dust.
Eventually the hum of the road beneath her tires, the ancient peace of sun and sky and stone, cleared her head and carried her home two hours later. Once there, she spent a moment fumbling with the deadbolt Enrique had installed that morning, along with safety latches designed to allow the kitchen window to be raised no higher than the half-inch needed t
o allow the orange power cord snaking through from the generator outside.
Not an ideal situation, but she could live with it until Monday, presuming Adam still meant to send the work crew to replace the fuse box after she’d told him she wanted a strictly professional relationship. But no sooner had the thought occurred than she dismissed it. It’s not in that man to break his promise. It was one of the things she loved about him.
Loved? She shook her head at her own foolishness and fought to banish the memory of the way his mouth had tasted, the way he’d felt, so hard against her.
Groaning in frustration, she put her purse down and got herself an ice-cold glass of water from the fridge. Jasper burst out of the bedroom mewing, and she fed him before remembering she needed to recharge her cell phone.
Pulling it from her bag, she saw she had a voice mail, though whoever left it had blocked the caller ID.
Mara’s stomach spasmed at the thought that it might be Mrs. Rhodes, wanting to dismiss her. Or Barbara Fairmont playing “Harper Valley hypocrite” to shame a sinner. Or could it be Adam, wanting to meet with Mara to discuss things? She felt a traitorous flutter of excitement at where that possibility might lead.
She played the message, and at first she thought it was her brother calling from Afghanistan, his voice garbled by a bad connection. But as her brain untangled meaning from the distorted words, all thoughts of Trace vanished.
“Her head shattered,” the message began. “Skull smashed like a pumpkin when it hit the rocks. Leave now, little teacher. Get out of here and live.”
Trembling overtook her, gorge rising hot as she held the phone at arm’s length. Who would…? What kind of sick person…? In her shock, she couldn’t finish a coherent thought. Instead, she stood frozen for what seemed like an eternity before she managed to convince herself she’d surely heard wrong, her brain constructing a vile threat from the background static and warped voice.
She replayed the message once, twice, and finally a third time, in an attempt to move beyond shock and revulsion. The voice itself was no help, so distorted Mara couldn’t even be certain whether it was male or female.
