by Kate Davies
“Because if you’re feeling awkward about yesterday—”
“I’m fine,” he interrupted.
“Or the day before—”
“I’m. Fine.”
Jessica blew out a gust of air, riffling her bangs. “Right.”
He crossed his arms, looking at her through narrowed eyes. “You’re the one who insisted on dropping it, right? So let’s just stick with the plan, okay?”
She stood, watching him carefully for a few moments, then shrugged. “If you say so.” She turned down the hall to her classroom. “I’ve got to pick up a few things. You’re welcome to join me.” Tom fell into step with her, and they walked in silence for a while.
As they approached her room, Tom cleared his throat, then stuffed his hands back in his pockets. “So, auditions are over, huh?”
She laughed briefly. “Thank goodness.”
“Day two as rough as day one?”
“Not quite. But I still feel like I’ve been rode hard and put up wet.”
Tom stopped, half-turning to look at her. “You feel what?”
“It’s a horseback riding phrase.”
“It’s very…descriptive.” He watched as Jessica blushed.
Tom gritted his teeth, wishing he’d swallowed that last comment. Their conversation was veering towards dangerous territory. And since he was determined to ignore what had happened between them completely, it was up to him to find some neutral ground. Quickly.
“Were you overrun by Juliets again today?” he asked.
“Not as badly as yesterday,” she replied, a note of relief in her voice. “In any case, I think I’ve solved the casting problem.”
“Really?” He could feel a tiny wrinkle appear in the space between his eyebrows. “How?”
“I haven’t worked out all the details yet, but I’ve found a way to still do Shakespeare while casting more girls than guys.”
“We’re not talking cross-dressing, are we? Because I thought you’d decided the board would take exception to that.”
“No, no cross-dressing,” she laughed, bumping a congenial elbow against him briefly and then moving away. “Not unless the script calls for it.”
He drew in a quick breath at the jolt of awareness that shot through him at the physical contact.
“I just realized that I could do Shakespeare without being tied down to a single script.”
“Okay, I’m completely lost,” Tom said.
“I’m going to direct a clip show.”
He tilted his head down, looking at her from under furrowed brows.
“Clip show,” she repeated. “Greatest hits. A night of Shakespeare’s best. I’ll take a dozen or so scenes from a variety of plays, tie them together with a narrator or tour guide or something, and voilá. A brief introduction to Shakespeare. And the best part is I can cast a lot more girls than if I did a single play.” She smiled triumphantly.
“You’re right,” he said. “You could have ten Juliets, if you really wanted to.”
“And Ophelias and Titanias and Portias…of course, I won’t be casting every girl who tried out, but at least I can increase their odds of being in the show. Oh, and by the way,” she added, a light blush staining her cheeks. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For the fifteen boys who suddenly decided to try out for the play today. I know you had something to do with it.”
“I told you I’d call in a few favors.” He shrugged, one side of his mouth tugging upwards. “I pointed out the benefits of participating in drama.”
Jessica crossed her arms. “Which are?” she asked.
“Public speaking experience, looks good on college applications, and, of course, the math involved.”
“Math?” She wrinkled her nose at him. “What math?”
One eyebrow lifted. “The ratio of girls to boys. Those stats are very persuasive.”
A slow grin spread across her face. “I see. Very clever. Well, thanks again.”
She paused for a moment, her lips pursing. She glanced sideways at him. “What do you know about Mark O’Brien?”
“What about him?”
She slowed her pace, a frown marring her delicate features. “He showed up at the theater yesterday and today, but he refused to audition. At first I thought he was just nervous, but he never actually got up to read. He just sat there, staring at the stage.”
“Huh.” Tom crossed his arms, trying to puzzle out this odd behavior. “Never tried out?”
“Nope.” She flashed a brief smile. “And believe me, I gave him plenty of opportunities.”
“Wait a minute.” Tom held out his hand. “Do you have the audition sheets handy?”
Jessica handed over the stack of papers and waited quietly as he thumbed through them.
He plucked one sheet from the pile and held it up triumphantly. “Lisa Dolan.”
“I don’t follow.”
“No, but Mark does.” At Jessica’s puzzled look, Tom hastened to explain. “Mark’s had a crush on Lisa for ages—since elementary school, if rumors are to be believed. He follows her around like a lost puppy every chance he gets.”
“How does Lisa feel about it?”
Tom shrugged. “I’ve asked her, and she says it doesn’t bug her too much. She’s always nice to him, but is definitely not interested in a romantic relationship. He never gives up hope though.”
Jessica drummed her fingers on the stack of scripts in her arms. “Well, this could be awkward. I offered him a job backstage, but now I think that might not be the best idea, since Lisa is definitely going to be cast.”
“Tell you what. I’ll talk with him, let him know he needs to be cool. Maybe being around the theater group will help him branch out in his interests.”
“And I’ll make sure Lisa is okay with it.” Jessica nodded, satisfied, and continued down the hall.
At the door Jessica stopped, fumbling for her keys. Tom looked down, fiddling with his watchband. “Uh, before you go…”
“Oh, no. Here comes the catch.”
“No catch.” He coughed. “It’s just that, well, Tolo is coming up, and…”
Jessica started to giggle. He shot her a wounded look. “Would you at least let me finish?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You just looked like a teenager asking a girl out on a first date.” She stopped, eyes wide. “Oops—are you? I mean, asking me out?”
He glowered at her. “No, I’m not asking you out. It would be completely inappropriate.”
“Like yesterday wasn’t,” she muttered under her breath. “Or the day before.”
Tom shot her a glance, but wisely let the comment pass. “It’s not an invitation. At least not in the way that you think. I’m in charge of chaperones for the dance, and I’m asking you to volunteer.”
“Oh. Sure, I’ll chaperone. Sounds like fun.”
He smiled. “Aside from the hearing damage, it is. It’s great seeing the kids all dressed up and having a good time. The information is in the staff room.” An awkward pause filled the space between them. Tom turned to go.
“Thanks for asking me to chaperone,” Jessica said.
“Thanks for saying yes,” he replied. “Oh, and for the record—I couldn’t have asked you to this dance anyway.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“This is Tolo,” he said calmly. “It’s the woman’s job to do the asking.” And with a final tap of the brow in salute, he was gone.
Secretly, perversely, Jessica was a little disappointed. Not that she wanted to go out with him. They were just colleagues, knee-shaking kisses aside. And she had no room in her life for any kind of relationship right now. But she had to admit it would have been nice if he wanted to ask her out. But apparently he just wanted her there in an official capacity.
Shoot.
Well, it was probably for the best. No, definitely. Getting hired on by the district would be hard enough without getting all hot and heavy with a fellow employee.
Which, of course, had already happened. Jessica scooted back in her rolling chair and lifted her feet onto the desk. She closed her eyes and let her head tilt back. Yes, she was attracted to Tom. But that was as far as it was going to go. At least from this point on. She would put it in the back of her mind and forget it had ever happened.
She sighed. Tom seemed to have managed that easily enough. In their conversation today he had been calm, impersonal, professional. Evidently, he hadn’t been affected by their kisses.
But boy, she certainly had. A long, restless night, followed by an even longer, distracted day, and it wasn’t over yet. Her sleep had been interrupted by visions of tangling tongues, bodies pressed together, clothes disappearing in the heat of passion. All day she’d wavered between wanting to see Tom and dreading that contact.
And when she’d opened the door to the theater and caught a glimpse of him standing in the hallway, late-afternoon sun glinting off his gold-streaked hair, her breath stalled in her chest, and she knew that just working in the same building with Tom Cameron was going to be a problem.
Jessica pulled out the audition sheets and stacked them together. Working was the operative term here. A hormone-driven crush on a co-worker was a very bad idea, especially since it distracted her from work. She wanted a teaching job for the following year. Wanted it so badly she could practically smell the ink on the continuing contract. So why was she spending an amazing amount of time agonizing over Tom Cameron?
There were a thousand and one reasons why a person should never get involved with a co-worker. Jessica knew most of them by heart. Unfortunately, it seemed that every time she got within viewing distance of Summit’s security officer, every one of those reasons flew right out the nearest window.
Jessica grimaced. She kept promising herself she’d find a way to keep out of Tom’s path, but somehow she found herself near him on a regular basis. She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, like a mouse to a trap, like melted chocolate to a dry-clean-only blouse. And now she’d agreed to chaperone a dance with him?
No, not with him, she corrected herself. They would both be chaperones, both at the dance—but not together. In fact, she could probably bring a date if she wanted. She mentally flipped through her personal phone book. Okay, maybe not.
A knock on the door broke her reverie. She straightened in her chair, nervously picking at her skirt. Maybe Tom had actually decided to talk about what happened yesterday. “Come in,” she called, tapping the stack of audition papers on the desk in what she hoped was a professional—not anxious—manner.
The door opened and a tall blonde woman walked into the room. She looked around the classroom, scanning the walls with a practiced eye. Finally completing her visual survey, she turned to the desk where Jessica sat and flashed a brief smile.
“Changed a few things, haven’t you?” She strode forward and leaned against a student desk. Her red dress, though ostensibly a professional style, clung to her curves like snakeskin. Her perfume, something sultry and musky, wafted towards Jessica. “Welcome to Summit. I’m Gabriella Barr.”
“Oh, the other freshman English teacher,” Jessica exclaimed. “I’ve been meaning to stop by and introduce myself. I’d love to bounce some ideas off you, if you have the time.”
Gabriella flashed a smile again that didn’t reach her eyes. “Well, we’ll see. It gets pretty busy around here this time of year. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
Jessica blinked, surprised at the brush-off. “Thanks.”
Gabriella continued looking around the room. “I take it these are your posters.”
“Yes, I put them up the other day.” Jessica waved a hand at the Shakespeare materials ringing the room. “I thought it would be a good intro to Romeo and Juliet.”
“Well, I’m sure Maggie won’t mind, as long as they’re gone by the end of her leave.”
“Of course,” Jessica said, feeling as if her smile was shellacked onto her face.
Gabriella checked her watch. “I’ve got to run. How long are you subbing for Maggie?”
Jessica counted to ten in her head. “Through the end of the year.”
“Well, then. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.” With a final nod, Gabriella swept out of the room, leaving Jessica staring blankly at the closing door.
“What was that?” she muttered, turning back to her desk.
“That,” announced an unfamiliar voice, “was the Barracuda. Consider yourself introduced.”
Jessica whipped around to see yet another visitor. “Um, and you are?”
“Nancy James.” She walked briskly forward, bright red curls bobbing around her cheerful face. “I saw Gabs flounce out of your room and thought I’d drop by to inspect the damage.” Nancy crossed her arms, eyeing Jessica critically. “Hmm, no visible scars…”
Jessica laughed and waved a hand at the row of student desks. Nancy dropped into one with a sigh. “Sorry I haven’t been by to introduce myself sooner. I teach senior comp and journalism a few doors down. If I can help you with anything, let me know.”
“Want to direct a play?”
Nancy chuckled. “Roped you into that, huh? Ah, the joys of being a new teacher.”
Jessica indicated the closed door. “I got the impression she didn’t like me very much.”
“My dear, you are female and under the age of forty-five. She doesn’t like you at all.”
“But I don’t even know her,” Jessica protested.
Nancy shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re the competition.” She held up her left hand, indicating a wedding band. “Now, she tolerates me, since I’m an old married woman and theoretically not a threat to her. But you’re young, attractive and single. Plus, it’s killing her that you caught Tom Cameron’s eye when she couldn’t.”
Jessica winced as the heat rushed to her face. “We’re just friends,” she muttered.
“That’s not the word in the hall,” Nancy replied. “Evidently, the sparks between the two of you could light the Homecoming bonfire. Not that it’s any of my business—or anyone else’s, for that matter.”
Jessica rubbed at her temples. A doozy of a headache appeared to be coming on. “Are you sure this is a high school? Suddenly I feel like I’m trapped on the Love Boat.”
A most unladylike snort met that remark. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you can hold your own. Forewarned is forearmed, I always say.” She stood up, bracelets jingling. “And I’m more than happy to lend a hand, if you need it.” Still smiling, she bounced out of the room.
Jessica shook her head and returned to her desk. This was too much information to deal with all at once. With a sigh, she sat down with the audition sheets again. The behind-the-scenes machinations of a fellow teacher would have to wait until she’d cast the play, graded all her papers, planned lessons and organized her classroom.
In other words, never.
Jessica packed up to go, scanning the classroom briefly before turning out the lights. The dance was in a few weeks. Until then, she had to find a way to avoid all reminders of Tom if she was going to keep her mind on her job.
Tom stood on the porch, bottle of wine tucked under one arm. Through the closed door he could hear the distant sounds of what seemed to be a pitched battle, complete with screaming and the crash of broken items. Against his better judgment, he leaned on the doorbell to announce his arrival.
The door swung open to reveal a pair of naked three-year-olds rampaging down the hall. A woman in jeans and a flannel shirt poked her head around the doorframe. Her blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a haphazard bun, a few loose pieces curling around her smiling face.
“Great.” she said, waving him in with a grin. “Perfect timing. You can help get the girls ready for bed.” She ignored his protests, shouting after the kids, “Sara! Emma! Uncle Tommy’s here! Get your jammies on and he’ll read you a story!”
Footsteps thundered up the stairs. Tom shot Janet a dirty look. “Did you have to announce it to them?�
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“Of course,” she said blithely. “That way you couldn’t say no. Here, give me the vino and I’ll finish getting dinner ready. Unless you’d rather cook and I’ll do the bedtime routine…”
Tom shook his head violently and handed over the wine. PJ’s and a bedtime story were far preferable to the strange alchemy that was cooking.
Twenty minutes later, Tom kissed his sleeping nieces, turned out the bedroom light and tiptoed back downstairs. He found his sister in the kitchen, ladling sauce over a huge bowl of pasta. “Expecting a crowd?” he inquired, filching a crouton from the Caesar salad. She bumped hips with him companionably, scooting the salad bowl out of his reach.
“Just you, me and Kevin,” she replied. “I promised no ambushes and I am a woman of my word.”
Tom opened the silverware drawer and grabbed enough for three place settings. “Thank you. So where is the man of the hour anyway?”
“Should be home any minute. Finished up a research project this afternoon and had to complete the write-up before leaving.”
“Sounds exciting,” Tom teased.
“Is my brother-in-law mocking me? For shame.” Kevin ambled into the kitchen, shirtsleeves pushed up, tie askew. He slipped his arms around Janet’s waist from behind and planted a kiss beneath her ear. She turned and pulled him into a fierce hug.
“Hello, my gorgeous scientist,” she murmured, kissing his cheek. “Save the world today?”
“Pretty close,” he said, stepping away to rummage through the fridge.
Janet mock-pouted. “You say that every day.”
Kevin grinned, popping a grape in his mouth. “Well, it’s true every day,” he mumbled around the grape. He patted Janet on the rear as he walked by.
“Knock it off, you two,” Tom growled. “I’m losing my appetite.”
Janet threw her dishtowel at him. “You know you think we’re adorable. Now go sit down. Dinner’s ready.”
Tom laughed and picked up the salad bowl, taking the opportunity to sneak a crouton as he placed it on the table.
“So, where’s the new squeeze?” Kevin said, adding the bowl of pasta to the table.
