Take a Chance on Me: Lessons, Book 4

by Kate Davies

  Except his dress shirt seemed to fit like second skin, and she’d already determined that his slacks clung to a rear end that was prime fodder for fantasy. She had the sinking sensation that her supermodel image of him was hitting pretty close to the mark.

  She sighed again and dragged herself out of the tub. A nice steamy bath was one thing, but it was starting to get a little too hot for comfort in there.

  Chapter Three

  The room was dark when Jessica awoke. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then squinted at the clock on the white microwave oven that dominated the tiny counter. 2:13 AM. Jessica yawned and riffled through the stack of papers on the table in front of her. She had managed to read and grade the introductory letters from students in two classes before sleep had dragged her down. Three folders were untouched.

  Oh, well. It would keep her busy during prep tomorrow. Today. Whatever. As it was, she only had a few hours before she had to wake up for good.

  Leaving the rickety wooden table piled high with papers and books, Jessica shuffled down the hall to her bedroom. Tugging off her robe, she dropped onto the bed. She checked her new alarm clock—purchased immediately after work—and set the alarm on her watch as a backup. Then she fell back against the pillows. Unfortunately, now that she was in bed, sleep appeared to have abandoned her. She stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. Her stomach churned as she thought back over the events of the day.

  Her first day. It should have been exhilarating, wonderful, everything she had been working toward for so long. Instead, it had started out badly and gotten progressively worse.

  She’d looked forward to her first day teaching for ages, since she’d had the guts to admit that was what she wanted to do with her life. She wanted the interaction with students, the give-and-take of a great discussion. She wanted to open their eyes to the wonders of literature and writing. She wanted to be on the other side of the desk. She wanted to make a difference.

  Instead, she found herself increasingly frustrated by the struggle just to get the kids into their seats and facing forward.

  How had Mrs. Stratman made it seem so easy?

  By the end of the day, all she’d wanted to do was plop down at her desk and have a good cry. And she would have if he hadn’t shown up again.

  Jessica pulled the covers up to her chin and squeezed her eyes shut.

  And then the whole fiasco at the pizza place. She groaned at the memory.

  She’d pretty much ensured that Tom saw her as a flighty, immature annoyance. What in the world was wrong with her?

  She rolled over, punching her pillow. What did she care what Tom Cameron thought about her? She and Tom Cameron were nothing more than co-workers. He certainly wouldn’t give her a second thought, and she wouldn’t waste even one more minute on him.

  Not interested.

  No way.

  Gradually, her thoughts slowed, and sleep arrived once again. She snuggled under the covers, cozy and comforted in the nest of her bed. And if a pair of broad shoulders and a fabulous ass played a leading role in her dreams, Jessica wasn’t telling.

  “You’re early.”

  Jessica spun around, dropping her keys with a clatter on the hallway floor. She bent down to pick them up, fumbling with them briefly before managing to grab hold. She looked across the hall at a pair of brilliantly shiny shoes. Her heartbeat sped up—from the shock, she told herself—and she took a deep breath to calm down.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” Tom stepped forward and held out his hand to steady her as she stood.

  She hesitated. Deciding it was foolish to struggle on her own, she placed her hand in his. There it was again, that jolt of—something—that she’d felt the day before. And this time, she knew he felt it too.

  His fingers gripped hers tightly for just a moment before dropping her hand like it had suddenly caught on fire. Blushing, she turned back to her door, fumbling her keys in a harried attempt to unlock it.

  “Here.” He plucked the key ring from her fingers, deftly inserted the correct one in the keyhole and opened it with a soft click. “These keys can be tricky.”

  “Uh-huh.” Show-off. She held out her hand for the keys and he dropped them into her palm, then stretched out a hand and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear.

  “No ponytail today, I see.”

  Her breath caught in her throat at the unexpected contact. “Nope.”

  “Too bad. It’s a good look on you.”

  “It makes me look like I’m twelve years old.”

  Tom shook his head, a slight smile on his face. “Believe me, you didn’t look twelve.”

  Jessica stared at him, then shook her head as if coming out of a trance. “Um, thanks. I think.”

  She brushed past him, flicking on the lights as she entered the room. She hefted the bulging book bag onto her desk and pulled out the homework folders. She busied herself with paperwork, forcing her gaze onto the desktop, all the while wondering why Tom Cameron had followed her into her classroom.

  Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She set the papers aside, sat down primly at her desk, and fixed Tom with a look. “No offense, but why are you here?”

  Tom glanced over at her from the bookcase, where he had been skimming the titles of the paperbacks.

  He pulled a book off the shelf and thumbed it open. “Looks interesting. Mind if I borrow it?”

  Jessica’s brow furrowed. “You want to borrow a book?”

  “Need something new for SSR.”

  “For what?”

  He leaned against the bookcase, one foot propped against the bottom shelf. He reminded her of a poster she’d seen of James Dean once, all attitude and coiled energy simmering below a cool exterior.

  “Silent sustained reading. Every morning the school shuts down for twenty minutes to read. You probably missed it yesterday, being late and all.”

  “Thanks for reminding me.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “Anyway, I finished my last book, so I need something to read today. I’ll get it back to you.”

  “You read?”

  “Frequently.”

  Jessica flushed. “I meant during SSR. It sounds like more of a classroom activity.”

  “I’m not just the hall patrol. I may not be in the classroom, but I’m still part of the staff.”

  “Of course,” Jessica said. “I didn’t mean to—”

  He waved his hand. “Forget it.”

  Jessica bit her lip. “Sorry. Take whatever you want.”

  Their eyes met, and she blushed. He tapped the book against the palm of his hand.

  “This’ll hold me over for a while.” He tucked it in the pocket of his jacket and headed for the classroom door. “I’ll let you get to work. Have a nice day.”

  “Uh, you too,” she stuttered as the door drifted shut.

  She stared blankly at the stacks of papers that covered her desk. Papers, papers…she was supposed to be grading papers. Stifling a groan, Jessica pulled the nearest essay forward. Thanks to Tom, she had less than an hour to finish grading before students arrived. She tried to conjure up some righteous indignation, but all she could manage was a slight peeve. She should have finished these essays last night anyway.

  Of course, that still didn’t explain why Tom Cameron had dropped by her room in the first place.

  Jessica shook her head. The man was an enigma, all right. And one she had no time to ponder at the moment. Picking up the essay, she began to read.

  Tom turned the corner and strode down the hallway. He shoved open the main door and walked outside, taking his customary position at the top of the stairs. His conversation with Jessica had almost made him late for the first bus.

  He rolled his eyes. Some conversation. Uh, I wanted to…borrow a book. Talk about lame. He didn’t even know what book he’d borrowed. He slid a hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out the paperback. Oh, thank God. It was that young adult novel everyone had been raving about last year. At least he wouldn�
�t have to slink back with How to Find the Perfect Guy or something equally embarrassing.

  He didn’t exactly know what brought him to her classroom this morning. Curiosity. Or a misguided attempt to make nice after yesterday. Or a desire to know if she had also brought leftover pizza for lunch today. All he knew was he’d rounded the corner to her classroom, spied those curves, and all rational thought had flown right out of his head.

  “Hey, Mr. C!”

  Tom stepped back as a hand waved in front of his eyes.

  “Earth to Cameron.” A gangly teen in fatigues and steel-toed boots grinned at him. “Man, you’re a million miles away. What’s with you?”

  “Just thinking,” Tom replied, reaching out to shake the boy’s hand. “Good morning, Mark.”

  “Thinking, huh? Thought I smelled something burning.” The kid laughed and shouldered his way into the school before Tom could fire back a smart comment.

  Tom shook his head as the boy disappeared from sight. There was so much about him that reminded Tom of that night. He was so much like—no, they were all like that kid. So much potential, yet so much danger surrounding them. And they all thought they were invincible. All he wanted was to keep them safe—from the world around them, and from themselves.

  He couldn’t go back, couldn’t fix the mistakes of the past, but he could do everything in his power to prevent another tragedy.

  Tom shook his head and concentrated on the wave of students pouring into the school. As security officer, it was vital that he be focused on the students and the campus at all times. It was his responsibility to know the kids, to notice when someone was acting strangely or out of character.

  He knew every inch of the school and its grounds, knew where the most popular sites were for smoking a forbidden cigarette or something stronger. He had broken up so many ardent couples in the back entry to the building that it was no longer the best make-out spot in the county.

  It didn’t deter everyone, but the students knew he was paying attention. And that was the reputation he had worked so hard to develop, beginning with the handshake at the start and end of each school day.

  But he’d have a hard time keeping that reputation if he kept getting distracted by thoughts of a certain new hire in room 124. He tucked a hand in his pocket and brushed the spine of the paperback book. Easier said than done.

  Jessica scribbled a few notes on the last essay just as the warning bell rang. She breathed a sigh of relief and flexed her cramped fingers. She stood, straightened her skirt, fluffed her hair and fixed a bright smile on her face. Time to greet the thundering hordes.

  She glanced at the bookcase on her way to the door. Not for a minute did she believe Tom Cameron had stopped by to browse her lending library. No, there had to be an ulterior motive.

  They’d gotten along fine last night at the pizza place, but he’d seemed like a different person than the one she’d met yesterday morning. So who had stopped by her room? Pizza Tom, or work Tom?

  Jessica shook her head and opened the door. She didn’t have time to deal with that right now. And if she was lucky, she could figure out a way to keep her distance from the confusing, befuddling, dangerously enticing man.

  A very long seven hours later, the echo of the dismissal bell hung in the empty classroom like a guest who wouldn’t take a hint. Jessica arched her back, wincing a little as she snapped, crackled and popped her way to a full stretch. Why had she ever assumed that teaching could take place from a seated position? She’d spent most of her time today crouched down next to student desks, answering questions and making suggestions.

  Jessica groaned, tilting her head first one direction, then the opposite. What she needed was a neck massage. Tom Cameron probably had strong hands…

  Uh-uh. Tom was nothing more than a distraction. Maybe an attractive distraction, but a distraction nonetheless. Focus on the goal, she reminded herself. Nothing can get in the way of a permanent teaching position.

  Especially not a man. She was going to succeed on her own terms, because of her own strengths and abilities. Maybe teaching wasn’t the most glamorous job in the world. Maybe she’d never get rich working in a high school. But she would succeed at it because she had the drive and the desire. Maybe once she’d shown her parents that she was a success, they would pay attention to her for who she was, not what they wanted her to be. Until then, she couldn’t afford to have any relationship get in the way.

  With that in mind, she turned her attention back to the stack of play scripts on the corner of her desk. If she was going to make a good impression directing the spring play, she had to find the perfect script.

  She’d spent the better part of lunch searching the classroom for information about the spring play—a list of drama-club participants, a folder of directions, maybe an already-selected script. But though the teacher out on leave had left her plenty of material for classroom work, as far as the drama program went, she was apparently on her own.

  She sat down in her chair and propped her elbows on the desk, cupping her chin in the palm of her hand. To her left was the pile of scripts; to her right were five file folders bulging with today’s student assignments. Both represented hours of work. She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. Evenings, weekends and summers off? Yeah, right.

  Jessica stood and began dumping paperwork into her overloaded book bag, straining the seams and assuring her chiropractor additional income. She needed to get out of this dungeon of a room before she completely missed what little daylight was available this time of year.

  She checked her watch. The building should be mostly cleared of students by now. It was probably a good time to scout out the theatre and see what she was up against. Jessica switched off the lights and pulled her classroom door shut behind her. Checking to make sure it was locked, she adjusted the book bag over her shoulder and set off down the hall.

  The main parking lot was largely empty by the time Tom left his customary post at the entrance to the school. Most students were on their way home or busy in after-school activities. Still, just to be sure, Tom made it a habit to walk the halls of the school every day after school. You never knew what might be going on in the dark recesses of the old building.

  He started in the basement, peering around corners and testing doors. Everything was locked up tight as a drum. Evidently, the art teacher had finally taken his advice and started locking her classroom.

  He’d collared some not-so-bright students there after school one day, apparently under the impression that the smell of art supplies would mask the odor of their marijuana. They hadn’t counted on the smoke drifting under the closed door and out into the hall.

  Everything checked out downstairs, so he headed back up. His pace slowed a bit as he reached the Language Arts wing. She’d probably gone home already. And even if she was still there, he wasn’t about to disturb her again today. No, he’d just check the door and keep walking.

  Still, he felt the briefest letdown when he reached her classroom and saw that it was already locked and dark. Against his will, his mind dredged up an image of Jessica from this morning, the professional cut of her dark blue jersey dress doing little to hide her curves.

  Even weighed down with paperwork, she had a look that put his libido on simmer.

  He shook his head and turned around, heading for the next hallway. She was a fellow staff member, and therefore off-limits. Tom didn’t date co-workers. Not even co-workers as attractive as Jessica Martin.

  To be honest, he didn’t date anyone, co-worker or not. Oh, his sister occasionally took her life into her hands and accidentally invited a female to dinner on the same night he came over, but nothing ever came of it. He wouldn’t let it. None of them were worth lowering his guard for.

  He hadn’t consciously decided to live a solitary lifestyle, but that’s what had happened. It wasn’t a bad life, he supposed. He had a nice apartment in a quiet part of town. He could eat cold canned spaghetti over the sink and not worry about gett
ing hell for it. He never had to share the remote control. He could sprawl across the bed without someone complaining how he was on her side.

  Of course, there was also the silence. The half-empty closets. The embarrassing moments when he turned to comment on an article in the morning paper and no one was there. The times he woke in a cold sweat in the middle of the night and reached blindly across the king-size bed, only to find empty space.

  The nightmares were diminishing in number with time, thank God, but not in intensity. He could still smell the sharp tang of gunpowder, feel the sticky warmth of someone else’s spilled blood. Like Lady Macbeth, he sometimes wondered if his hands would ever be clean.

  Four years ago, that nightmare had been real. But even then, back when his king-sized bed had held two, there was no one he could have turned to for comfort.

  No, the only person he could truly depend on was himself. And sometimes, in the middle of the night, he wasn’t even sure about that.

  A rattling sound broke his reverie. He stopped, squinting in the darkened hallway, trying to make out the source of the noise. Up ahead, in a shadowed doorway, a slight figure was pushing on the locked door.

  Tom slipped forward quietly, hoping to use the advantage of surprise to catch the kid off-guard. Probably looking for a quiet spot to get high—or scouting out a love nest. He glanced around, but didn’t see a partner in crime. Still, it didn’t hurt to be cautious. He continued walking down the hallway, gaze sweeping the darkened corners, until he reached the intruder.

  An intruder who was wearing a blue jersey dress.

  Desire slammed into him, tightening his gut and giving him an instant hard-on. Jessica was standing mere footsteps away, hand on the doorknob, shaking it furiously and muttering under her breath. He gave himself a second or two to regain his equilibrium, and then tapped her on the shoulder.