by Sandy James
Fringe Benefits
Sandy James
New York Boston
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Table of Contents
An Excerpt from The Bottom Line
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Copyright Page
In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Although I’ve dedicated a book to my husband in the past, I have to let him know that this book is also in his honor. Recently diagnosed with cancer, he has shown courage and grace in the face of adversity. I not only love him with every piece of my heart, but I also admire him from the depths of my soul.
So this one’s for Jeff…
Acknowledgments
When the editor of my first three Ladies Who Lunch books left Forever Yours, I was worried I’d be “orphaned.” Instead, I found myself working with one of my dream editors—Leah Hultenschmidt. I can’t thank her enough for taking me on!
Big thanks to Dana Hamilton for her insightful editorial notes on this book. She made it a stronger story.
As always, I’d be nowhere without my agent, Joanna MacKenzie, and the other Browne & Miller agents, Danielle Egan-Miller and Abby Saul. Love you!
And last, but most certainly not least, to my critique partners—the ladies who save my butt over and over again. Love to Cheryl Brooks, Leanna Kay, Nan Reinhardt, and Sandra Owens.
Chapter One
One more day.
That was all Danielle Bradshaw had left. One more day before the school year started and her life would become a routine that made an air traffic controller’s day seem relaxed.
Up at five in the morning. A five-mile run. Shower and pour some coffee down her throat—maybe finding a moment to choke down some oatmeal or granola—and then get herself dressed and get her fanny to work. Teach six sophomore English classes, usually with at least thirty kids in each, and head home to do some laundry and try to make a dent in the eternal pile of student papers to grade. Once spring rolled around, she could add after-school track practice and meets to her agenda, since she served as the coach for the distance runners.
And the next day?
Do it all over again.
“Danielle?” Her principal’s call kept her from leaving the main office.
She’d made a quick trip to the heavily guarded supply closet to grab a fresh gradebook and was heading back to her room to prepare to face her new students. Her clean escape had just been thwarted. “Yes?”
“I need your help.” He turned to motion to someone in his office. “Nathaniel? Come on out here. I want you to work with Ms. Bradshaw.”
Oh no.
She had no doubt what Jim Reinhardt wanted from her. The department was getting a new teacher. Finally. That would mean some relief from the onerous number of kids the teachers of Stephen Douglas High School faced on a daily basis.
But with that blessing came the need to break in a newbie. Since she’d been promoted to department head this school year, a position that came with an embarrassingly small raise and a hell of a lot more responsibility, she’d have to be the one to show the new teacher the ropes. No doubt this was a kid fresh from college, because there was no way the corporation would spring for someone with experience. The administrators were too cheap.
Her day was now shot to hell.
Her biggest concern, aside from having to spend every minute of her work day spoon-feeding some newbie, was that as department head she should’ve been included in the decision on which teacher to hire. Since her summer had gone by without a single word from her boss about interviews, she’d simply assumed that the school corporation hadn’t scraped together enough funds to hire a new English instructor.
With a sigh, she tried to paste a smile on her face to welcome the poor guy who now faced the most challenging nine months of his life. “Hi, I’m—”
The words froze in her throat as she took in the man standing in front of her, flashing her a smile that damn near stopped her heart before sending it slamming against her ribs.
He was blond, his hair close-cropped and slicked down with the right amount of gel. He wore a dark suit and red tie as though a born executive. His eyes were the most fascinating shade of blue, the color of the clearest of the Caribbean waters. And exactly like those waters, Dani could feel herself drowning in them.
“Nathaniel Ryan,” he said, holding out his hand. “But I prefer Nate.”
Somehow, she was able to force herself from her stupor to shake his hand. “Dani… um… Danielle. Bradshaw.”
Jim cuffed Nate on the shoulder. “Dani will get you introduced and give you a tour of the place.” His gaze shifted to her. She knew that expression well. It was the same guilty grimace he gave her whenever he knew he’d just given her yet another nearly impossible task.
And breaking in a new teacher the day before school qualified as a “nearly impossible task.” The only thing that kept her from being furious with Jim was the fact that he was the best principal she’d ever worked for.
She found her voice. “What room will he be in?”
“Nate’s going to be in the empty room at the end of the English hall.”
“Um, okay.” The last time anyone had used the room was five years ago. Since then, it had been a place to store all the broken desks. The teachers in her department called it the “Black Hole of Calcutta.”
“Don’t worry, Dani,” Jim said. “I already had the custodians clear it out. Nate, Dani’s going to be your mentor this year. She teaches sophomore English—same as you. She’ll help get you ready for tomorrow, and my office door is always open if you need me. We’ll both be observing you in action a couple of times this year—once in the first week or two, so be ready.”
On that, he strode back to his office, leaving her to gape at the new teacher.
God, her friends would be laughing their asses off at the way she gawked at Nate Ryan. The Ladies Who Lunch, her closest friends, loved to joke about how nonchalant Dani always acted around handsome men. Even though all three of her friends were happily married, they had an eye for good-looking men and ogled any hunk who passed them while Dani rolled her eyes at their brazenness.
If they could only see her now… She couldn’t even put together enough words to make a coherent sentence.
She should be talking a blue streak right now, telling this guy—Nate Ryan—about the ins and outs of Stephen Douglas High School. She should be explaining how to set up his electronic gradebook and attendance file and then joking with him about why he had to keep a paper gradebook and attendance file as well. She should be doing something productive rather than standing there staring at a man who had to be almost ten years younger than her own thirty-one. Thirty-two in a matter of weeks.
A decade ago, she’d been standing where Nate Ryan stood, ready to take on the students. Ready to teach kids and believing she had the power to change the world, to reach each and every student and help them learn to love reading and writing every bit as much as she did.
Ten years at Douglas High School had seasoned her. She wasn’t entirely soured on teaching—not yet—but that time was on the horizon. One of the Ladies Who Lunch had left teaching only two years ago. Juliana Wilson had been a special-education teacher who’d burned out and carved herself a profitable career as a real estate agent.
Would the four friends still be the Ladies Who Lunch once they all left the profession? T
hey’d found each other years ago, bonding as they shared their lunch period each day. They’d weathered Juliana jumping ship, still finding time to get together a couple of times a week.
But if Dani left, too?
Who exactly was she fooling? There was no reason even worrying about leaving. As it was, she’d be lucky if she saved enough money to retire at sixty-five.
“So, Ms. Bradshaw…” Nate raked his fingers through his short hair.
Dani got a hold of herself. The poor kid was obviously nervous. “Call me Dani. Please. How about I show you your room? I have no idea what’s usable in there, but the department has several sets of classroom books that I can help you carry over. We also have e-books for our kids because they all have electronic tablets instead of textbooks.”
His eyes widened. “Really? Wow. That had to be expensive. I thought schools were pinching pennies like crazy nowadays.”
“We are. E-books are actually more cost-effective. They’re a helluva lot cheaper than hardcover textbooks. Plus the kids don’t get strained backs from carrying them around.” She led the way to the big double doors leading out of the main office and was pleased when Nate reached past her to pull one open for her.
The man had manners, something sorely lacking in the guys she’d dated the last few years. Not that there’d been that many.
“Follow me,” she said, gesturing toward the English hall. “I’ll show you to your new home.”
* * *
Nate Ryan followed his new boss, trying desperately to keep from staring at her ass.
But damn…
He hadn’t expected a department head to be so young. She couldn’t be that much older than his own twenty-four. How could she already be the leader of the whole English department? His mother had retired from teaching just last spring. She was barely fifty, but she’d been her school’s science department head for only three years.
Maybe Dani was the oldest in the English department. A lot of experienced teachers were leaving the profession. His mother’s retirement had all but been forced on her when the school corporation sponsored a buy-out for teachers at the top of the pay scale. She’d crunched some numbers based on the money she’d saved over the years and decided that she’d do fine retiring.
His stepfather had joined her, taking his thirty-year pension from being a police detective and leaving the force. Now they worked together, writing books and running a blog about traveling in middle age. It was brilliant. Every trip they took was deductible, and they were able to go to the places they’d always dreamed of visiting.
Maybe Danielle Bradshaw had benefited from a mass exodus of older teachers with a promotion. “You seem kinda young to be department head.”
Sweet Lord, he’d gone and blurted that out.
Unlocking the door, she spoke over her shoulder. “I just got the job this year. You’ll be my first virgin.” Her eyes flew wide as a blush stained her cheeks. “Sorry. That might’ve been sexual harassment…”
“No worries,” he said with a forgiving chuckle. “That’s exactly what I am right now. A virgin—at least in this school.”
As a grin lifted the corner of her mouth, she opened the door. “Here you go. Room thirteen.”
“Great,” he grumbled. Being a new teacher was tough enough. The last thing he needed was to start out with an unlucky room number.
“It’s haunted, you know.” She tossed him an enigmatic smile he found very attractive.
“My room?”
“Yep. When the school was first built, this was a dressing area for the guys who refereed our basketball games. One of them collapsed during a game in 1976.”
“Heart attack?” he asked.
She nodded. “He died right here in this room.”
“Wonderful. Now I’ve got a ghost and an unlucky room number.”
Her laugh was as sweet as her voice. Some women had voices that grated on him. High-pitched. Squeaky. Made him want to gnash his teeth.
Dani’s voice was a pleasant register, her laugh husky and genuine.
“At least the heat and air-conditioning work in this room,” she countered. “My room is like a refrigerator all winter.”
“Where’s your room? I mean… you’re my mentor, right? Shouldn’t we be close?”
“I’m in twelve. Right across the hall. Don’t worry. If the kids get out of control, I’ve got a whip and a chair handy. Just scream. I’ll come running.”
His first classroom, a chance to start his career. Hopes high, Nate flipped on the bank of light switches. The fluorescent lights buzzed and popped, sputtering to life. One look around made him wish they hadn’t bothered.
The place was horrible. Desks were lined up in institutional rows, all the seats a boring brown. The walls were what his mother always called “school beige,” and there wasn’t even a window to bring in any light.
Prisons had to be more inviting.
“Looks like I’m heading to Education Depot at lunch,” he said, talking more to himself than his boss. There was a shitload of stuff he’d have to buy. Bulletin board borders. Posters. A desk calendar. He was definitely starting from scratch, since his mother had been a science teacher. None of her leftovers would work, with the exception of her “You Can’t Scare Me, I Teach” poster.
“Nope,” Dani retorted. “Lunch will be with our department. It’s the only chance we get to meet before school starts tomorrow. You’ll have to go shopping after school.”
He frowned, panic tickling at his nerves.
He shouldn’t even be here. Nate had already accepted a job with a department store regional office, writing copy for their advertisements. He was supposed to start tomorrow. All the teaching jobs he’d applied for had been filled during the summer months, so he’d given up hope for this school year. That was as it should be. Teachers should be hired early enough to give them time to plan lessons, decorate classrooms, and gird their loins to face the students.
Instead, he’d received a phone call from Jim Reinhardt yesterday morning. Hoping to put his degree to better use than enticing people to buy things, Nate had interviewed right after lunch and signed his contract first thing this morning. He didn’t have a damn thing ready for the kids who’d step across the threshold to room 13 tomorrow to greet their new English teacher.
How in the hell am I going to do this?
“I’ll help as much as I can.” Dani laid her hand on his arm. “I’ve got your back.”
So he’d spoken the question aloud. Not a surprise. His former fiancée said it was one of his less-endearing habits. Of course, she had her own bad habits, one of those being becoming annoyed with him easily and often.
Dani drew back her hand and spun toward the bare teacher’s desk with the grace of a ballerina. Her hair made him think of a dancer, too. Blond, even a lighter shade than his own, and she’d pulled it into a tight bun that accentuated her slender neck.
He suddenly wanted to see how long her hair was, whether it would be naturally straight if she let it down. And when she fixed her intense blue eyes on him, every thought he’d had seemed to fly right out of his brain.
Nate had always been drawn to older women, probably because girls his age were so damned flighty. His one serious relationship had almost resulted in marriage, but her behavior had changed abruptly after an unplanned pregnancy and sudden miscarriage. She’d started going to parties, saying she needed to be young, that losing their baby had made her realize exactly how close she’d come to having to grow up before her time.
They’d broken up after dating less than a year.
Every date he’d had since then had left him fearing he’d never have another serious relationship. Did all twentysomething girls think going out and drinking themselves stupid was the only way to celebrate a weekend?
No, girls his age didn’t interest him.
But Danielle Bradshaw?
She interested Nate. A lot.
For all he knew, she was happily married with five kids. And she was
his new boss, the woman who’d be evaluating him to see if this would be his one and only year teaching at Douglas High School. He had no business thinking of her as anything but a colleague.
The weight of the world suddenly settled on his shoulders. Tomorrow, six classes of eager new students would be sitting in those stark desks, expecting him to have a syllabus, a set of class rules, and a lesson to teach them.
What he had was jack shit.
Dani stepped over to one of the desks, letting her fingertips brush the surface as her gaze swept the room. “I don’t know about you, but I hate having rows like this. I put my desks in pairs.”
“I can move things around?” Nate asked. The only classroom he’d spent time in had been the one he’d student-taught in, and his supervising teacher hadn’t wanted Nate to do anything to personalize the room. That only emphasized the fact that it wasn’t Nate’s classroom.
She laughed at his question, and he felt his mouth twitch, threatening a grin in response. “It’s your room, Mr. Ryan. You can move the desks, the bookshelves, the—”
“Should be easy since they’re empty,” he drawled. “Not sure I’ll ever get used to Mr. Ryan.”
She chuckled again. “When you hear it a hundred times a day, you will. And no worry on décor. I’ve got a ton of posters you can use.”
“Posters?”
“One of our teachers left a couple of years ago. Went on maternity leave and never came back. She left all of her stuff, and I didn’t toss it.”
“Typical teacher.”
She cocked her head. “Pardon?”
“You’re a pack rat.”
A smile lit her face. “I resemble that remark. But how do you know that? This is your first job, right?”
He nodded. “My mom was a teacher. I don’t think she’s ever thrown anything away. Always said she might need it for her classroom.”
“If she’s like me,” Dani said, “she never uses any of it. Right?”
“Right.”
