Yeah, she should have expected it, should have had an answer ready. But she didn’t. And she had no idea how to answer, didn’t think she ever would. That part of her pastâit was still too painful, too bitter. She tried to put it behind her, tried not to think about it. Ever.
Mike swallowed against the tangle of emotions, trying to figure out how to answer. She decided to be as honest as she could be, for now.
“I was too young and stupid to know what love was.”
“Hmph. If you say so.” Jay reached out and gently grabbed her hand, squeezing it once before letting it go. “So how long did you wait for him? After the accident, I mean.”
“Jayâ”
“Sorry. Forget I asked.” There was a long pause, the silence unhurried, companionable. Down here, in the basement of the station, they were away from the noise and jokes and bickering and carrying on that accompanied work. They didn’t have to worry about being interrupted. Mike knew that was the only reason Jay had felt comfortable enough to bring up the subject. He shifted beside her and cleared his throat. “I am sorry, Mike. I had no idea and now, because of me, you’re going to have see him again. Of all the times I pick to do something ahead of time, it had to be this time.”
Mike sighed and stood up, absently straightening the weights and mats as her thoughts echoed Jay’s exactly. She didn’t think he’d appreciate hearing that, though.
“Hey Jay, Mikey! You guys are relieved!” The announcement was bellowed from the door upstairs, echoing off the block walls around them. She glanced at her watch, surprised at the time, then grabbed her uniform shirt from a hook and pulled it on over the dark blue t-shirt, feeling Jay’s eyes on her the whole time.
She finished buttoning the shirt then finally looked over at him. “What?”
“I am sorry, Mike, I really am.”
“Jay, if you apologize one more time, I’m going to hit you. I know you’re sorry, enough already.” She paused, watching Jay gather up his things, then headed for the stairs. “And who knows? Maybe it won’t be so bad.”
“You are such a liar.”
“Yeah, well, you can’t blame me for trying. Besides, when has there ever been anything I can’t handle?” She reached the top of the stairs and leaned back to flip the light switch off, hoping the words wouldn’t come back to haunt her.
CHAPTER TEN
Mike sat in the front seat of the Jeep, trying her best to ignore the knot twisting in her stomach, trying to convince herself that she was not nervous. Not her, the queen of cool. She was not anxious. And she most certainly was not panicky.
Yeah, right, sure she wasn’t.
She clenched her fists tightly around the steering wheel and took several deep breaths, wishing she could be anywhere but where she was, wondering again how this had even happened. Talk about cruel twists.
Giving herself a mental shake, she climbed out of the Jeep, wanting only to get the whole thing over with as soon as possible. Not that this afternoon would be the end of it. No. This afternoon was just the beginning, God help her.
The outside door of the school opened with a muted creak and Mike stepped through, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the dimness of the hallway. It looked like any other school hallway and smelled of wax and chalk; the combination threatened to send her back in time, to her own high school days, and she shuddered. That was too long ago and she had no desire to travel down memory lane. Not when Nick would have the starring role in most of those memories.
Mike finally reached the partially opened door of Nick’s classroom and paused outside, taking a deep breath to rally her nerves, then stepped across the threshold. She opened her mouth to say something but stopped, her heart stuck in her throat at the sight of Nick. He sat at the desk, bent over with his head resting in his hands. His fingers, long and strong, splayed through his thick hair, giving it a gently-mussed look. He looked…lost. Lonely. Dejected.
No. She couldn’t think of him that way. Not now, not ever. Not if she wanted to survive this. Nick wasn’t lost or lonely. Impossible. No, the boy she rememberedâthe man she watchedâwas too strong, too independent to be lost or lonely. She needed to stop seeing things that weren’t there, need to see him for what he was: someone from her past, someone she was being forced to work with for right now. A teacher, nothing more, nothing less.
Except he looked nothing at all like a teacher, sitting there with his elbows carelessly propped on a pile of papers.
Of course, he probably wasn’t a real teacher, Mike realized. He probably helped with teaching music or band or something like that, because there was no way her Nicky could be responsible for anything more than that.
Her Nicky? Where had that awful thought come from? Biting back the sudden anger that accompanied the mental slip, she pushed the door until it hit the wall with a muffled bang, her steps loud as she moved into the room. Nick jumped at the noise, his elbow sliding off a stack of papers and hitting the edge of the desk with a thump she could hear a few feet away. He raised his head, his dark eyes shadowed, almost haunted. No, she must have been seeing things, because the expression was gone as soon as he blinked. His lips tightened into a straight line and he looked away, suddenly focused on gathering the scattered papers and putting them in a neat pile, completely ignoring her.
Two could play that game, she thought, knowing even as she did that it wasn’t true. No matter how much she wished otherwise, she’d never been able to ignore Nick. That had always been the problem, was going to be the problem now. But she could at least pretend. Her gaze wandered around the room, slowly taking everything in without really seeing anything. And then one detail in particular jumped out at her.
“Where’s Jay?”
Nick glanced at her then down at his watch. He tossed some papers into the open briefcase that sat on the desk then shrugged. “He’s obviously running late.”
Oh, that was just great. Mike swallowed her groan and took a seat at one of the desks, trying to look casual and collected, trying to distance herself from any emotion. And trying not to watch Nick as he moved, trying not to study him.
He continued gathering items from his desk, tossing some into the briefcase, putting others into a drawer. Each movement was precise, controlled. Mike stared at his hands, at the strength in each of them. They were broad and well-sculpted, the fingers long and tapered. She remembered how well those fingers could dance along the strings of a guitarâstill could, apparently. And she remembered what else those hands, those fingers, were capable of doing.
Mike swallowed another groan and closed her eyes, mentally kicking herself. How could she be sitting here, remembering those things? She had no business remembering at all, she should be concentrating instead on what had happened afterâNo. What she needed to concentrate on was getting this program finished so she would never have to see Nick Lansing again. Maybe then she could put this all behind her and move on.
Again.
“I have aspirin if you need some.”
“Excuse me?” Mike opened her eyes and looked at Nick. He was leaning against the edge of the desk, his arms folded across his chest, his long, jean-clad legs stretched out in front of him. She pretended not to notice the way the worn fabric clung to his muscular thighs, or the way the material of his gray polo stretched across his chest and shoulders.
“Aspirin. For your hangover.” Nick’s deep brown gaze pierced her, studying her with a coolness she didn’t quite understand. Watching. Assessing. She narrowed her own eyes in response and sat a little straighter, wishing now that she was standing because sitting put her at a definite disadvantage.
“I am not hungover.”
“Oh.” Nick continued studying her with that cool gaze and it took all of her control not to squirm beneath it. Just what, exactly, did he think he was doing, anyway? “For your headache, then.”
“What? I don’t have a headache!” Mike ground the words out between clenched teeth, knowing that she would have a headache if this kept u
p. Was this Nick’s lame attempt at casual conversation to kill time? They’d both be better off if he just kept quiet. At least, she would be; she didn’t care about him.
Nick watched her for a few more quiet seconds then shrugged and straightened, moving to take his seat behind the desk. The chair squeaked under his weight as he shifted, propping the heels of his booted feet on the corner of the desk and resting his elbows on the arm chairs. He glanced at his watch again, the move slow and calculated, then turned back to her. “So, is your friend always late?”
Mike glanced at her own watch and sighed. “Not usually, no.” And the fact that Jay was running late was beginning to worry her. If something had happened, he would have called her, but the cell phone in her back pocket was silent. For his sake, she hoped he had a really good excuse.
“So tell me, why are you here? You made it pretty clear the last time that you weren’t interested in helping out.” Nick steepled his fingers and stared at her, his dark gaze unwavering in its scrutiny. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was baiting her, trying to get some kind of reaction from her. Part of her wanted to give in and give him all the reaction he could handle but she didn’t. Instead, she took a deep breath and counted to ten, telling herself not to lose control.
“I didn’t have much choice in the matter,” she finally admitted. Nick’s eyebrows shot up in surprise but he didn’t say anything. Mike took another deep breath and rubbed the palms of her hands along her legs, hoping the desk hid the action. “Listen, Nick, unless something changes, we’re going to be stuck working together for a while. Maybe we should just, you know, call a truce or something.”
“A truce? I didn’t realize we were at war.” Nick’s words were short and clipped, matching Mike’s mood exactly. She clenched her jaw tighter and stared at him with the coolest look she could manage, hoping the gaze let him know in no uncertain terms exactly what she felt. He returned her look with an intensity that added to the discomfort racing through her. Time stretched around them, tense and silent until Mike could no longer stand it. She pushed herself out of the chair then slammed it against the desk, muttering an obscenity.
“This is ridiculous. What right do you have to sit there and act like you’re the injured party? Tell me that! After all these yearsâ” Mike choked back the rest of what she wanted to say, appalled at the emotion in her voice. Too much time had gone by; none of this should matter anymore. But it did, and she hated herself for it.
She ran a shaking hand across her eyes, pushing her thumb against the left one to stop the tell-tale twitching she could feel building in it. Her gaze traveled to the closed door and she had to stop herself from bolting toward it and running. Yes, she could do it. Run out the door, out of the building, just keep on running. But no matter how far she ran, she wouldn’t be able to escape. Escape was only an illusion.
“Kayla.” Nick’s voice was thick with emotion and entirely too close, making her jump. She whirled around and nearly fell into him, he was so close to her. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her, which only made her stumble more. Heat seared her where his hands rested, one on her shoulder and the other now on her waist. Her pulse kicked up, her heart pounding in her chest, too tight, too heavy. Mike froze, unable to breathe, unable to think, aware only of Nick’s touch and the intensity of his gaze as he stared down at her.
No. She had to be imagining it. There was no way he could still have this effect on her, not after all these years. Not after everything that had happened, after everything he’d done.
His hands tightened on her then slowly drew her in, his arms wrapping around her in a hesitant embrace. She closed her eyes as he tightened his hold, refusing to lean into him but unable to pull away. She could feel his heart hammering in his chest, felt the warmth of his breath against her cheek as he held her. God help her, part of her wanted to lean against him, to hide in the strength of his hold. To just let the years fall away as he held her, safe and secure.
“Kayla.” His voice was soft, rough with emotion. His arms tightened even more and she felt herself leaning against him, giving in, forgetting. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I never meant to hurt you, not like that.”
Mike heard the anguish in his voice and focused on that, instead of the words. She leaned closer, shutting everything out except the feel of his arms around her. Time slowed, meaning little while he held her. And with the slowing came an awareness of the electric tension surrounding them, a thick heaviness in the air that made it difficult to pull air into her lungs. She recognized it immediately as the same heaviness, the same tension that had always surrounded them in the past. It was a living thing, combustible, threatening to explode and consume her.
Even now, after all these years, after all that had passed between them. How? How could she still be so weak, so needy, when it came to this one man?
Her breathing hitched in her chest, echoing Nick’s harsh gasp. Slowly she opened her eyes, the lids heavy as she raised her head, already knowing what was to come, her body welcoming it even as her mind screamed out in warning. His mouth descended, slowly, his dark eyes locked with hers. And in that split-second Mike saw something that chilled her.
Pity.
She took a deep breath and pushed Nick away, cursing herself for forgetting, cursing him for making her forget.
Not the heat or the passion. There had always been that between them, a heavy awareness that had consumed them both and threatened to destroy common sense. She had never found anything close to it since then and she had never been able to forget it. Just like she had never forgotten what Nick had done to her.
Until just now.
To see his pity on top of everything else was more than she needed, more than even she could handle. She didn’t wantâdidn’t needâhis pity and she didn’t need his words of apology. In fact, she didn’t need anything from him.
Mike turned her back on Nick and paced around the small room, frustration adding an edginess to each step. She paused to rub one hand across her eyes, annoyed at the slight shaking in her fingers. She took a deep breath and held it, let it out slowly, searching for some kind of inner calm. What a joke. How could she be calm when every single nerve was dancing with anger and, worse, awareness?
“Kayla.” From somewhere behind her came Nick’s uncertain voice and she resumed her pacing, wanting nothing more than to put more distance between them. When she went as far as she could, she turned and faced him, hoping her expression betrayed no sign of the emotional battle being waged inside her. She forced herself to stand straight and meet his gaze head on, refused to waver in the face of his obvious confusion.
“What exactly is it you do here, anyway? Teach band or something?”
“Excuse me?”
Mike ran a shaking hand through her hair and forced a slight smile as she repeated her question. Nick stared at her for a long second then shook his head, as if he had trouble understanding her. He sighed then walked over to the desk, leaning against it with his arms folded across his chest while he fixed her with a steady gaze as blank as her own. She had the uncomfortable and very distinct impression that he was seeing too deeply inside her.
“No, I do not teach band.” The words were clipped, maybe a little defensive even. “I teach English literature.”
“I’m sorry, excuse me?” Mike made no attempt to hide her surprise, wasn’t sure she could have hidden it even if she tried. Her eyes widened as she stared at him in disbelief. Nick taught English? She must have heard him wrong.
“Why does that surprise you so much?”
“I…it just does, that’s all,” she finally admitted. She tried to picture him standing where he was now, teaching high school kids the finer points of Shakespeare and Tennyson. The image refused to materialize, no doubt hindered by the way he looked, dressed in snug jeans and a polo shirt that pulled tight across his broad chest, with thick wavy hair that hung just below his collar. English teachers didn’t look like him. She cleared h
er throat and made her final admission. “It sounds too responsible for someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” The sudden cool edge in his voice was unmistakable. Mike ignored it and continued to watch him. He straightened and fixed her with a stern look as something flickered in his eyes, there and gone before she could really see what it was. Irritation? Anger? She didn’t know. Then he sighed and finally shook his head, a brittle smile twisting one corner of his mouth. “People change. But then, I guess you know that firsthand, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do,” Mike agreed. She recognized the verbal bait for what it was but didn’t care. She charged ahead and met it with her own dig. “Just like I know that not everybody has a choice. Sometimes people are forced to change because of things that happen. Because of things that are done to them.”
Nick paled at her accusation and for a minute she thought he would say something, but he didn’t. He just shook his head again and sat down in the creaking chair, his shoulders slumped in something that closely resembled defeat. “You were right. If we need to work together, maybe we should call a truce. Pretend there’s nothing…” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Pretend that we never met.”
Mike listened to his halting words and heard an undercurrent of emotion she didn’t understand. She opened her mouth to say something, preferably something sarcastic, but was stopped when the classroom door opened. She turned around to see Jay standing there, a look of caution etched on his face. His gaze rested briefly on Nick before he turned to face her, hesitant and obviously worried. Mike glanced at her watch, noting how late he was. He offered her a look of apology then closed the door behind him with a soft click.
“So, did I miss anything important?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nick shifted in the chair, trying to focus on the outline in front of him as Jay droned on about his idea. None of it mattered, because he wasn’t hearing it. His attention was centered instead on Kayla, who had been sitting in the back of the classroom, silent for the last hour.
Once Burned (Firehouse Fourteen Book 1) Page 6
