by Kate Davies
She sat up in the velvet theater seat, posture ramrod straight, jaw clenched as she fought to keep from trembling. She’d tried so hard to forget their kiss, but here in the theater it was impossible. Even surrounded by students, she’d been tempted by him. And now, with just the two of them in the darkened auditorium, it felt so intimate, so private, so—tempting.
He sat down next to her, long legs stretched out casually into the aisle. He plucked the stack of audition sheets from her hands and flipped through them, skimming the names of potential cast members. Handing them back, Tom leaned back in his seat.
“Not enough boys,” he observed.
“Nope,” she said. “Not nearly enough.”
“And all the girls want to be Juliet.”
Jessica cut a sideways glance at him. “How’d you know?”
Tom grinned. “Have you ever listened to their conversations? They all want to be Juliet in real life. Now here’s their chance to play the role on stage too.”
“Not if I can’t get some guys to turn out. As it stands, the only way I could cast a Shakespeare play today is to swap gender roles and have the girls play boys’ parts and vice-versa.”
Tom snorted. “Yeah, that’s gonna fly with the school board.”
“I know. I just don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t direct Romeo and Juliet now, because there are only four female parts in the stupid play. Speaking parts, at least. And every girl expects the lead. I’m toast.” She sighed and slumped back down in her chair.
Almost of its own volition, her head dropped against Tom’s shoulder. It was a very comfortable spot.
He didn’t move away.
“So what are you going to do?”
The question hung in the air, thick as the attraction zinging between them.
“I don’t know,” she admitted again.
Tom shifted, stretching his arm across the back of her seat. Fingers, feather-light, curled around her shoulder, sending bursts of heat coursing down her arm. Energy pulsed. Jessica was sure her heartbeat was echoing throughout the empty auditorium.
She shifted in her seat, cheek pressing against the rough fabric of his jacket-covered shoulder. He smelled like freshly starched shirts and crisp winter mornings. She was so tired, so drained by the responsibilities that kept piling up. It was nice to lean on someone else, if only for a minute.
“Tell you what. I’ll call in a few favors,” he said. “Get some more boys to turn out tomorrow.”
“You’d do that?” she asked, although she already knew she had no reason to doubt him.
She sat up, some of the strain easing from her face.
Tom nodded. He pulled his arm away, and she missed the warmth and comfort immediately. Part of her wanted to capture his hand, wrap her arms around his neck, invite him to follow her home. Instead, she stood and gathered her papers to her chest like a shield. He stood too, and they walked out into the aisle together.
“Thanks again for helping me out.”
Impulsively, she pressed her lips against his cheek, intending to pull back quickly and race out the door without looking back. But his hand reached out to cup the back of her neck and she found herself rooted in place.
“We shouldn’t do this,” she murmured, even as her free hand gripped the collar of his jacket.
“It’s a really, really bad idea,” he agreed, dragging his lips across her cheek, her jaw, until finally his mouth descended upon hers. Lips touched, then parted, then touched again, and suddenly her arms snaked around his neck, his fingers tangled in her hair, and the rest of the world faded in a kaleidoscope of taste and touch and sound.
She bit back a groan as he nipped gently at her lower lip. Her mouth opened slightly as she gasped and his tongue slid between her parted lips. She gripped his shoulders, pressing her body closer as their kiss deepened. Jessica was drowning in the sensations, his tongue tangling with hers, the hard planes of his chest pressing against her sensitive breasts. He slid his thigh in between her legs and she arched forward against the hard evidence of his arousal. All thought skittered away under the onslaught of physical sensation.
One of his hands skimmed the side of her neck, stroking her bare skin at the collar of her dress. She whimpered as his fingers splayed along her collarbone, his palm dipping lower to the swell of her breast. She leaned into his touch, her own hands stroking down his spine.
His fingers traced the edges of her shirt, dipping under the neckline to stroke the sensitive skin of her breast. He slid two fingers beneath the edge of her bra to tweak her nipple lightly.
Jessica shuddered, her head dropping back as tremors rolled through her. She hooked one leg around his thigh, her hips tilting forward to rock against him. He was hard, the thick length fitting between her legs as he pressed a kiss to the pulse fluttering at the base of her neck.
He groaned and pushed her shirt and bra down, freeing her breast to his hungry gaze. Cupping her with one hand, he lowered his mouth and ran his tongue around the sensitive tip.
Biting back a gasp, she arched up as he sucked her nipple into his mouth. She slid her fingers into his hair, holding him even closer. All she could do was hold on tight as tremors pulsed through her with ever-gathering force.
Suddenly, Tom stepped back, gripping her shoulders as if to keep her at arm’s length. His mouth looked damp and swollen and his chest rose and fell as he tried to catch his breath. He tugged her shirt back up, his knuckles catching on her extra-sensitive nipple as he covered her again. “Holy shit,” he muttered, his tongue darting out to swipe at his lower lip.
Jessica thrust a hand through her tangled, well-mussed hair. She could feel the whisker burn surrounding her mouth, the telltale signs of having been kissed thoroughly. And her shirt…she had to look completely debauched. The two of them might as well have pasted neon signs to their foreheads. Without a mirror, all she could hope for was an empty hallway as she ran for the car. She reached out and steadied herself on the arm of a chair.
“Uhm,” she said, reaching down to retrieve her overflowing book bag, which had tumbled to the ground during their kiss. She couldn’t quite bring herself to look him in the eye. “How the hell did that happen?”
“Again,” Tom rasped, his voice low and full of self-recrimination.
Funny how she’d only known him a few days and she could already identify that tone of voice.
Funny how she’d only known him a few days and making out with him in the theater was turning into a habit.
“I’m, um, sorry,” she stammered. “This is not like me.”
“But it’s like me, right?”
Her head snapped up at the bitter tone in his voice. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Look, just let it go, okay?”
“How can we? It seems to keep happening.” She thrust a hand through her hair.
“It won’t happen again.” He stepped around her and headed for the exit door. “Give me a minute or two before you leave. That should be enough time to throw the teenage bloodhounds off the scent.” With a curt nod, he walked out of the theater.
Jessica stared after him. She ran the fingertips of one hand over her kiss-softened mouth. How had they gone from chatting, to making out like hormone-addled teenagers, to verbal warfare—all in the space of two minutes? She shook her head. This was one complication her life did not need right now.
Tom slammed his office door, then leaned back against it, scrubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. His heartbeat had slowed slightly, but his breathing refused to return to normal. He could still smell her, feel her, taste her—she’d wrapped around his senses and wouldn’t let go.
He kicked the door and paced across the tiny room. How could he have done that? Again? A casual conversation, a brief connection with another staff member, and he’d let his guard down. And now he had ample evidence for why that was a very bad thing.
A knock at the door broke his contemplation. He thought about pretending he wasn’t there, but the light
shining under the door was a dead giveaway. He braced himself for another confrontation with Jessica as he reached for the doorknob.
“Celeste.” He blinked, disconcerted. He’d thought the principal had already left for the day.
“Sorry to disturb you,” she said, breezing past him into the small office. “I noticed the light and wanted to touch base with you about a few things.”
“Sure.” He indicated the chair opposite his desk.
He walked swiftly to his own chair, hoping his current flustered—okay, aroused—state wasn’t obvious to the casual observer. Sitting, he reached across the desk for the sheaf of papers she held out. Celeste crossed her hands calmly in her lap and waited for Tom to flip through the paperwork.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said, placing the papers in his to-do file. “Was there anything else?”
“Just a reminder that the Tolo is coming up in a few weeks. How is chaperone coverage coming along?”
Tom grimaced and crossed his arms. The formal dance was something he preferred not to think about if he could help it. “Not well. I’ve had a sign-up notice in the staff lounge for ten days and it’s still blank.”
“I think you’re going to have to start asking people personally, Tom.” Celeste sighed. “I’ve been in this business for more years than I care to discuss, and finding chaperones has always been a hassle. Face to face is the only sure way to get people on board. It’s a pain, I know, but I’m sure you can do it.”
“Of course,” Tom said, suddenly aware of the tension gripping his shoulders.
The thought of going to other staff members for a favor, when up until now he’d done everything in his power to stay isolated, brought instant stress.
Celeste sat back in her chair, eying him closely. She hesitated, then spoke.
“I realize that you choose not to interact with the rest of the staff more than you have to. No,” she said, holding up a hand. “I’m not criticizing you. I know we’re extremely lucky to have someone with your background and experience here. I still don’t know why you chose to leave law enforcement to work in the schools, but I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. You do a fine job and are excellent with the students. But you are security officer for all of Summit High School. And that includes faculty and staff.”
She leaned forward. “I chose you to head the chaperone detail for Tolo because I wanted you to build closer relationships with the staff. But in order for that to happen, you have to talk to them. A poster in the faculty lounge isn’t going to cut it.”
Tom started to protest, but she cut him off. “You have an almost uncanny ability to connect with students. What I don’t understand is your reluctance to connect with staff members in the same way. It could only make your job easier.”
Thinking back on the connection he’d just made in the theater, Tom was inclined to disagree. But he only nodded and gestured for her to go on.
“I recommend starting with new employees,” she continued. “They tend to be more enthusiastic about volunteering.”
“Thanks for the tip,” he said.
He winced inwardly. New staff meant Jessica Martin. After today’s embarrassing encounter he’d hoped to put lots of time and distance between them. That didn’t appear to be an option anymore. With only two weeks until Tolo, he needed to round up a full list of chaperones as soon as possible.
“This is one of the joys of administration,” Celeste added cheerfully.
“What’s that?”
She winked. “Delegation.” On that note, she stood and walked to the door. “Don’t stay too late, Tom. It’s not good to spend your entire life inside this building. Besides, if you work longer hours than I do, you might make me look bad.”
With a laugh, she opened the door and was gone.
Tom leaned back in his chair, hands splayed through his hair. After months of consciously separating himself from the rest of his colleagues, he was going to have to make nice in order to find chaperones. And that was a direct order too.
Celeste’s lecture had made it perfectly clear that his chaperone list had better include Jessica Martin, with whom things had gotten just a little too nice today. He sighed, finger-combing his hair back into some semblance of order.
He would invite her to chaperone because he had to, but after that he had to find a way to minimize future interactions with her. His nice, quiet, structured life was starting to spin out of control, and he had to put some serious distance between himself and a certain English teacher if he was to have any hope of regaining his equilibrium.
And that was what he wanted—wasn’t it?
Her front door refused to open. It probably didn’t help that she couldn’t find her key.
Jessica pawed through her bag, dislodging papers, pens, books and other random detritus in her frantic search. She finally gave up, admitting that her house key was missing. Cursing the loony idea to keep her car keys separate from her house key—for safety, she’d thought at the time—she leaned her forehead against the weathered wood, closing her eyes in frustration.
The really depressing part of it all was she knew where she would find her key tomorrow.
The floor of the theater, under the last row of seats. Next to where she had dropped her bag. While she’d been rapidly exploding in flames as she and Tom kissed.
Jessica dropped her bag and stepped off the porch, silently apologizing to her too-expensive pumps for the indignity awaiting them. Her heels bit into the turf of her postage-stamp-size lawn, leaving twin holes pocking the ground. Bits of grass and dirt clung to the edges of her one and only pair of designer shoes. Belatedly, she realized she could have just taken the stupid things off and walked barefoot.
Rounding the side of her tiny rental, Jessica hefted herself onto the cedar deck and reached into the wasps’ nest tucked under the low overhang. It had been empty for over a year now, thanks to generous quantities of bug spray, but served as a handy hiding place for her extra key.
Grumbling now at the wasps for placing the nest in such an inconvenient location, Jessica wobbled back to the front porch, carefully choosing a different section of yard. At least the lawn would benefit from the impromptu aeration.
Door finally unlocked, Jessica dragged her overstuffed bag into the house. Minutes later, she was safely tucked in her family room, shoes kicked off, afghan wrapped around her shoulders, steaming cup of tea on the cherry wood table next to her favorite overstuffed chair.
Sighing deeply, she rolled her head from side to side, stretching the tension out of her neck. Then she picked up her school bag and pulled out the stack of audition sheets.
Over one hundred girls, all eager to star in Summit High’s spring Shakespeare presentation. And if Jessica tried to produce Romeo and Juliet now, with only four female parts to be had, the protests would no doubt be loud and long.
Not the best way to prove to the district that they really wanted to hire her.
Jessica sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. If only there was some way to cast more girls in the show. Why had she insisted on Shakespeare? As far as she knew, there wasn’t a single Shakespeare play with equal numbers of male and female roles. Women weren’t even allowed to act in Shakespeare’s day, for heaven’s sake.
On the flip side, Shakespeare did write some of the best roles for women. Juliet, Lady Macbeth, Ophelia, Titania…
Jessica jumped up out of her chair, almost knocking over the side table in the process. Grabbing the phone, she punched in a number and waited for it to ring.
“Ana. Hey, can you come over tonight? I need your help. Auditions were horrible. But I think I’ve found a way to salvage the situation.”
Chapter Six
Tom checked the front doors. Again. He tugged at every door on the main hall, verifying for the fifth time that they were locked up tight. He peered in the darkened office with a serious look on his face. In short, he did everything possible to look like he wasn’t pacing outside the door to the theater.
Which, of course, he was.
He needed to ask Jessica about chaperoning the dance, but couldn’t bring himself to go back to the scene of the—well, it wasn’t really a crime, was it? Criminal to have stopped it, the traitor in the back of his head jeered. He told the annoying little voice to stuff a sock in it and began another circuit of the foyer.
He hadn’t wanted to walk in with all the auditioning students watching the two of them like not-so-covert operatives. And now that auditions were over, he didn’t trust himself alone with her in that theater.
The dim lighting. The plush, opulent interior, so reminiscent of old-time movie houses where teens used to go to neck. And, most damning, the incredibly tempting woman waiting inside.
The door opened and the woman in question stepped into the main hall. She squinted in the late-afternoon sunlight streaming in from the windows high on the wall opposite the theater.
“Tom?”
He nodded and walked over to where Jessica stood shielding her eyes with her hand. A ray of sun played across her face, lighting her delicate features and tinting her chestnut hair with streaks of gold. The tip of her tongue darted out, nervously wetting her lower lip, and Tom dropped his gaze quickly. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his winter wool slacks, trying to project a laid-back attitude. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was failing miserably.
Jessica, for once, was not carrying her bag. Instead, she clutched a stack of audition sheets and loose-leaf script pages to her chest. Tom reached out, intending to offer to carry them for her, but pulled back almost immediately. He couldn’t risk getting too close to her again, even for something as innocuous as the transfer of papers. Besides, if the papers were gone, he’d have an unobstructed view of her chest. Better not to tempt fate.
“Uh, Tom?” He shook his head briefly as he realized she was staring at him, a puzzled frown dipping between her eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Sure,” he said, flashing a quick and insincere smile.
