Take a Chance on Me: Lessons, Book 4

by Kate Davies

  She didn’t want this moment to end.

  Ever.

  He moved in closer. She ignored the sensation of the hard metal bar of the door pressing into the small of her back. He slid his hand down her leg and lifted it up and around his waist, the hard length of his cock grinding against her sweet spot.

  She whimpered, clinging to him, her head dropping back against the door with a quiet thump. He kissed down the length of her neck, tugging at the collar of her dress, the other hand bracing them both against the door. Their breathing was harsh in the darkened room.

  Another openmouthed kiss against the top of her breast, another slow, drugging roll of the hips, and Jessica could feel the pulse of orgasm starting to throb deep inside. Bracing herself against the cold metal behind her, she started to wrap her other leg around him.

  And the door fell open, sending them both staggering into the blinding light of the hallway.

  Tom wrenched his mouth away from hers and settled her on her feet as quickly as humanly possible. He braced her as she stumbled.

  She wasn’t sure when she’d have strength in her legs again to hold herself upright. If ever.

  A quick glance down the hall in both directions assured her no one was watching. Thank God for that.

  Tom closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers, his breathing fast and harsh in the empty hallway. “God,” he muttered.

  “I, uh,” Jessica stammered, all vocabulary fleeing her in the aftermath of that kiss.

  “Yeah.”

  With slow, stuttering movements, as if forcing himself to react, Tom let go of her, his steps faltering backwards. Already, she felt colder, a shiver tracing down her spine. What the hell had she done?

  And what the hell had he done back?

  “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  Jessica winced. “I don’t think either of us did.”

  “I’m sorry,” he began, but she cut him off.

  “Look, I’m just as embarrassed as you are. But please don’t make it worse by apologizing. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I started it.”

  “That’s beside the point.”

  She shook her head. “No, it is the point.”

  He sighed heavily. “So where do we go from here?”

  “Home.” She walked back into the theater and grabbed her bag. “Separately. And we forget it ever happened.”

  His voice was harsh. “Forget it happened. Right.”

  Somehow, it didn’t sound like agreement.

  Back in the hallway, Jessica thrust out a hand for a nice impersonal handshake. “Good night. Thanks for the tour.”

  “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

  She shot him a warning look. “Good night.”

  He took her hand briefly in his, but it wasn’t short enough to avoid the spark that never failed to appear when they touched. Damn.

  He must have felt it too, because he dropped her hand like a hot coal. “It’s been…interesting.”

  She clutched her bag to her chest, eyes wide, as she watched him stride on down the hall. Interesting? What the hell did that mean?

  And did she really want to find out?

  Chapter Four

  “Sign here.” The officious blonde tapped on the clipboard with her pencil. “And here. And put your room number here.”

  She flipped a page and started again. Jessica scrawled her signature in each spot, glancing briefly at the legalese as it flipped past her. Apparently, keys to the theater were on a level with security clearance at the Navy base down the road, judging by the forms required.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tom’s office door open. She ducked her head and focused her attention back on the page in front of her. Footsteps informed her that she had company at Trudy’s desk.

  “Hi.” His voice was low, with a hint of amusement lurking in the back. “I see you took my advice. Good for you.”

  Stung, she shot a narrow-eyed glance at him. “I was already planning on getting the keys, thank you very much. I just didn’t do it on your timetable.”

  “Of course,” he replied, nodding calmly.

  Gritting her teeth, Jessica turned her attention back to the forms. A surreptitious glance told her that Trudy was listening to their conversation with undisguised interest. She signed the last page and handed the clipboard back.

  “Theater, light booth, green room, costumes,” Trudy chanted as she dropped keys in Jessica’s outstretched palm. “Enjoy.” Then she eyed Tom and asked, “Did you need something, Mr. Cameron?”

  Jessica slid a glance at Tom under lowered eyelids, and was gratified to see him fumble for an answer. He muttered a goodbye and continued on toward the main door. Trudy swiveled back to her computer keyboard, pretending she wasn’t the least bit interested in the tension snapping between Jessica and Tom.

  Jessica turned to go, groaning inwardly as she exited the office and discovered that Tom was leaning against the doorframe to the front entrance of the school. Her heels clicking on the pebbled flooring alerted him to her presence, and he turned slowly, still watching for the arrival of the first bus.

  “So.” She stood in the foyer, arms crossed, though whether she was warning off him or herself she couldn’t say.

  “So,” he echoed, one eyebrow quirked.

  Jessica searched her brain for a topic of conversation, considering and discarding the weather, the current political situation and her lesson plans for the day. God knew she didn’t want him to bring up yesterday. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  They stood in the hallway, glancing everywhere but at each other. It was empty for the moment, but students would be arriving soon and filling every inch with their jostling, laughing, shouting energy. Five kids or five hundred—they’d still manage to expand to fill the space provided.

  “About yesterday.”

  Jessica shot Tom a look. “Don’t say another word.”

  “I really think we should talk about it.”

  “Why?” She held up a hand as he opened his mouth to speak again. “Seriously. It happened. We’re both adults. No harm, no foul. Let’s just forget it.”

  As if she’d ever be able to forget that kiss.

  “I just—”

  Jessica slapped her hand over his mouth. “Not. Another. Word.”

  His breath was hot on her palm. Jessica suppressed the shudder that threatened to overcome her. It was time to get out of this situation, and fast. Pulling her hand away, she hitched her bag over her shoulder and turned to go. “Have a nice day.” She tossed off a little half-wave and strode around the corner to the Language Arts wing.

  Nice day. Yeah, right. Tom shouldered his way out the front door and took up his customary spot at the top of the stairs. It was sure starting on a low note. After a night of tossing, turning and far too little sleep, not to mention too many repeats of the kiss that shouldn’t have happened running through his head, he’d punched off the alarm clock at oh-dark-thirty, only to discover that his coffee machine had died sometime during the night. He’d grumbled his way to the drive-through espresso stand nearest the school, cursing his dependence on caffeine to start the day.

  Then, to top it off, the source of his sleepless night chose this morning to invade the office with her cheery disposition and her citrusy scent calling up every erotic image that had danced through his mind last night. He’d followed the light, tempting fragrance out into the main office right to the source. Then Trudy, office manager and busybody extraordinaire, had caught him off-guard and left him stammering like an idiot.

  So he left the office, fully intending to continue out into the cold morning air, both to fulfill his morning greeting ritual and to cool his overheated hormones. But instead he found himself dawdling at the entrance to the school, hoping to run into her one more time.

  This was ridiculous. Was he going to offer to carry her books next? All he’d wanted to do was apologize for yesterday. She made it seem like even that little gesture would be
a capital offense.

  He did not do things like this. He didn’t get chummy with co-workers. He didn’t volunteer to help out. And he certainly didn’t make out with bright-eyed new teachers in the middle of the school theater. My God, what if someone had walked in?

  It would have been more than embarrassing—it could possibly have been a career ender. Jessica would be well within her rights to file sexual harassment charges against him, although judging from her reaction to the kiss, that probably wouldn’t happen.

  Tom shook his head and groaned again. Not only was it a stunning breach of ethics to make such a blatant pass at a co-worker, it was completely out of character. Before Jessica had arrived on the scene, he stayed in his nice orderly world, did his job and went home to a life he’d structured around his need for control.

  But with that amazing, mind-blowing, blood-pumping kiss, Tom could feel his hard-earned control sliding down the drain.

  He cinched his jacket a little tighter against the morning chill. A rumble down the street announced the arrival of the first bus. Time to relegate Jessica Martin to a back pocket of his brain and focus on the kids.

  “I’m not doing this.”

  Jessica looked up from the stack of papers she was handing out and focused on the back of the classroom. “Excuse me?”

  “I said I’m not doing this.” With a toss of her pink-hued head, Fallon dropped the assignment sheet on the floor and crossed her arms defiantly across her chest.

  A low rumble traveled across the classroom as students watched to see what she would do. Jessica schooled her expression to one of calm authority, although inside she was groaning. Fallon had complained about every assignment and activity since Jessica had started, and this was no exception. Frankly, she was sick of it.

  Turning away to hand the assignment sheet to another student, Jessica shrugged. “Okay.”

  “What?” Fallon was staring at her with a mixture of suspicion and confusion.

  The muttering from the rest of the students grew louder.

  Jessica kept handing out papers. “I can’t force you to do the assignment. You’re in high school. You don’t want to do it, you don’t have to.” Voices raised, the class was quickly spinning out of control until she raised her hand for attention. “Don’t forget, however, that there are consequences.”

  A collective groan echoed through the room. Jessica smiled calmly at her class. “You don’t do the work, you don’t get the grade. You don’t get the grade, you don’t pass the class. Don’t pass the class and you get summer school—or take English 9 next year. So, if you really want to be the only sophomore in freshman English, be my guest.”

  The muttering died away as Jessica blithely continued her rounds of the classroom. She kept her head carefully averted as she passed Fallon’s desk, but noted that the assignment sheet was no longer on the floor. She bit back a smile and returned to the front of the room.

  “Ms. Martin, why do we have to do this anyway?”

  She smiled and sat down on her stool, leaning forward slightly. “We’re researching Shakespeare because we are starting Romeo and Juliet next week. It’s important to know some facts before jumping in.”

  “No, I mean, why read Shakespeare? It’s not like it’s relevant to our lives today.”

  “Yeah,” chimed in Fallon, obviously unwilling to let her protest drop completely. “He’s just another stupid DWEM.”

  Jessica looked at her, a puzzled frown wrinkling her brow. “A what?”

  Fallon leaned back, propping her ever-present Doc Martens on the seat in front of her. “DWEM. Dead white European male. Face it, that’s all we ever study in English classes anyway.”

  “Point taken,” Jessica countered, “and I’ll encourage you to focus on a writer from another culture when we get to the individual lit study later on this year. But Shakespeare is far more than a DWEM, as you so creatively put it. He’s the most well-known writer in the history of the English language. His plays are still performed all over the world today. He’s shaped our culture.”

  Matt picked up the argument for the students. “But if we never plan to see a Shakespeare play, why bother to study it?”

  “Hmmm.” Jessica stepped down from her stool and began walking from one end of the classroom to the other. “Anyone have an idea on that?”

  Hands rose tentatively. She chose a student at random.

  “Because we want to be well-rounded people.”

  “Helps with trivia competitions. There’s always a Shakespeare question.”

  “The school district says we have to.”

  She smiled at this last comment. “True. But I’d also be willing to bet that you can find evidence of Shakespeare’s work all around you in popular culture. In fact, I will give extra credit to anyone who can find a link between Shakespeare’s work and a song, movie, TV show or book that is popular today. And I will bring in some examples of my own on Monday.”

  An approving murmur ran around the classroom. Like all students, they were excited about the prospect of extra credit. Jessica raised her voice above the low rumble. “And you don’t have to worry about never seeing a Shakespeare play performed either, because that is what I’m going to direct for the spring show.”

  “You’re not crying again, are you?”

  Jessica’s eyes snapped open. Tom Cameron stood in the doorway of her classroom, squinting in her direction. “’Cause I can come back later.”

  Jessica brushed some imaginary lint off the sleeve of her jacket. She threw him a withering glance. “No, I am not crying. Thank you so much for dredging up a painful memory.”

  “Hey, just checking.” He flashed a lopsided grin that set her heart thumping. “I felt pretty stupid the other day barging in on you and didn’t want to repeat that mistake.”

  “Look, can we just pretend that never happened?”

  “We seem to be doing a lot of that lately,” Tom replied.

  “It works for me.” Jessica picked a pen up, dropped it on the desk again and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are you here? Are you checking up on me? Don’t worry, I’m not planning to sneak out early.”

  Tom looked baffled. “Checking up on…what, you think I’m the attendance patrol? I could care less what time you leave.”

  “Couldn’t care less,” Jessica corrected absently.

  “What?”

  “Couldn’t care less. If you could care less, it would mean you cared at least a bit.”

  Tom rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the grammar lesson, Miss English Teacher. I stand corrected.”

  “Sorry.” Jessica blushed. “It’s a pet peeve of mine.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  Jessica began stuffing papers, file folders and scripts into her book bag at random. She worked quickly, staring down at the poor overloaded bag as if it held the eighth wonder of the world. For all she knew, it did—she’d just never be able to find it under all the junk she was adding.

  Even with her head down, she knew Tom was staring at her, probably with that barely disguised impatience she’d seen flash across his face during the could/couldn’t debacle. She could feel her ears heating up with embarrassment. First, she accuses him of spying on her, then treats him to an impromptu lecture on proper English usage, and she still didn’t know why he was here.

  Go away, she thought fiercely, scowling into the gaping bag. Please, please just go away.

  “Here.” Jessica jerked upright as a sheet of paper suddenly appeared under her nose. “You might want to add this before you exceed the paperwork limit on that sorry little bag.”

  She frowned at the paper. “What’s this?”

  Tom shrugged and sat down on the edge of a student desk. “Celeste asked me to bring it by. I don’t make it a habit of reading other people’s paperwork.”

  “I never said you did.”

  “No, but you implied—”

  “I did not.”

  “Would you just take the stupid thing?”

 
She sighed. A raw sort of tension seemed to have bloomed between them since last night. From the moment she stepped into the building this morning, she had felt tight as a bowstring, nerves twanging at the thought of seeing Tom Cameron again. Did sexual tension manifest itself in nasty comments?

  Jessica took the paper from his outstretched hand, carefully avoiding any actual physical contact. She skimmed it quickly. She folded it and tucked it in an outside pocket of the book bag, separating it from the other materials.

  “Insurance benefits information,” she said. “And sorry I snapped at you.”

  He shrugged again, winding his way towards the door. “Tough day, huh?”

  Jessica sighed and brushed the hair back from her forehead. “Not hideously, no. But I did manage to make my life so much more complicated than it already was.”

  Tom stopped and sat down on the edge of a student desk. “And how did you do that?”

  She rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of a neighboring desk. “Oh, I just promised my first period class I would direct a Shakespeare play for the spring show.”

  Tom whistled. “Nothing like picking an easy script to direct.”

  She groaned, scrubbing at her eyes with her palms. “Tell me about it.” She gestured at the classroom. “For the first time I really felt like a teacher. They were listening, paying attention—some of them were even involved in the discussion. It was the kind of day I dreamed about when I decided to become a teacher. I got so caught up in the moment I ended up sticking my foot in my mouth all the way up to my ankle.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Tom crossed his arms and eyed her speculatively. “This could be a very good thing for you.”

  Jessica turned, her mouth gaping open. “How in the world could this be a good thing? Only an idiot would choose a five-act theater classic for her first production.”

  “Or a very confident person.”

  She slid down into the desk chair, propping her chin in her hands. “Go on.”

  Tom stood, pacing around the classroom as he talked. “Think about it. You’re only teaching here for the rest of the year.”