“Um, looks like your kids want to buy tickets to the show.”
“Christ,” he exclaimed, circling around so his back was to the curious teens, pulling her with him. He called over his shoulder, “I better hear shutters clicking in the next three seconds or the astrophotography trip will be canceled.”
Masculine grumbling rose over the sound of the slow running creek, but the whirring noise of multiple cameras soon replaced it. Sam resumed gently probing the spot where her back had connected with the rocks. “It doesn’t look like anything is broken, but you’re going to have a wicked bruise. You should probably ice it as soon as you get home. Do you live nearby?”
“I’ve rented a place in town for a couple of months.”
“What brings you to Granite Pointe?” He earned a few points for trying to distract her while he prodded her shoulder blade. Jeez, his fingers were warm.
“Business. I’ll be traveling up and down the New England coast and it seemed like a good spot. I need proximity to the airport. Plus, this area is a spectacular place for photos. I’m assembling a portfolio.”
“It is a great place to snap some of nature’s rampages,” Sam agreed, pulling her shirt back into place while he talked. He led her to the shore then stepped behind her to help her up the embankment. She slipped along the way to the top. He gasped sharply when she slid backward, her butt connecting intimately with his groin.
Good, I’m not the only one uncomfortable right now. Serves him right.
Once on stable land, Rikki sat on the ground and pulled the ugly boots off to empty them. Sam had bent over to squeeze excess water out of his khakis. Crap, in addition to his fleece, he’d probably ruined his pants and brown work boots rescuing her. She refused to feel bad about it. He should have had better control over the teens in his charge.
The worst part was missing the opportunity to snap the one picture she desperately wanted to add to her portfolio. Although Sam’s warm hands on her breasts weren’t bad as consolation prizes went….
Oh, Christ! Where the hell had that thought come from?
“You can keep the jacket if you want.”
She gave him a tight smile. “I couldn’t do that. Where should I return it after I wash it?”
“Do you know where the high school is? On the corner of Spruce and Third Street?”
“I think I can find it.”
“The club meets after school on Mondays and Wednesdays. If you’re ready to return it, why don’t you drop by next Monday? We’re taking a stroll to the jetty for a lesson in light and shadow. Actually, we’ll be there for the next two weeks. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Hmm, maybe,” she said, mentally reviewing her schedule to see if she could be free. “Otherwise, I’ll drop it by the school office.”
Sam nodded then turned toward his students, urging them to finish up as the wind shifted, blowing in waves across the long grass dotting the marsh.
Standing, Rikki retrieved her tripod and camera, glancing wistfully at the clouds. Damn! In the few short minutes she’d been in the water, the spectacular light had faded. The sun had angled lower in the western sky, and the storm over the water had broken as it traveled north. The sweet spot in the clouds had disintegrated along with the fleeting chance to get the one picture she’d waited her entire life to take.
It sucked to be dependent on the whims of Mother Nature, the bipolar bitch.
Chapter 2
Sam Kerrigan hadn’t stopped thinking about Rikki Salerno since the day he’d dragged her out of the creek by her breasts.
He’d gotten a better view than he’d expected when he’d stumbled up the creek bed into the presence of the exotic woman who’d beaten them to the small point of land known as Sims’ Spit. The raven-haired beauty had glanced over her shoulder as they’d approached. Her sloe-eyed gaze and the way her lips had twitched a welcome-but-don’t-bother-me smile had halted his breath.
The world had gone into slow motion when Brett Erskine had jogged past the woman and knocked her into the creek. She could have used her tripod to save herself, but had released her grip on it to avoid pulling it over, averting a potential equipment disaster.
One small choice that had left her tumbling into the water. And he’d jumped in to rescue her.
He shook his head while he shuffled through papers he’d retrieved from his school mailbox. God, the memory of their brief contact sent a thrill through him. He’d been surprised by his body’s instinctive—and instant—reaction. An untried school boy would have had more control. Although, when holding heaven in the palms of your hands, who knew.
The instant he realized his faux pas, he’d dropped his hands to her slender waist, but couldn’t resist the urge to squeeze. Her quick glance at the shore, ensuring the safety of her camera, and the snickering of his students, had pulled him back to the moment. He’d scrambled backward, but his gaze had been snared by the sight of her pale yellow, clinging T-shirt, which left nothing to the imagination.
Once he’d diverted his attention from her chest and met her gaze, her eyes had glittered like black diamonds. Then he’d checked her shoulder blade… Her skin had been soft and silky, in spite of the residual clamminess from her fall into the creek. The blooming bruise had made his shoulder ache in sympathy.
His spontaneous invitation for her to join the photography club on their expedition to the jetty had been made partly because her equipment—her photographic equipment—was professional quality. Her immediate concern for the safety of her gear after she’d surfaced in the creek, and the way she’d carefully packed away the Nikon cameras and Leica lenses, impressed him. But the fact she’d stopped his breath and sped up his heart at his first glimpse was the real reason.
Only, she hadn’t shown up. Now, a week later, classes were done for the day, and again she wasn’t waiting for him. He lingered in the main office, keeping one eye on the teens loitering in the hallway, and the other on the security monitor for the camera positioned at the front doors, willing Rikki to show up. Considering he’d just met her, and didn’t know anything about her, his disappointment was surprisingly bitter.
“Hey, Mr. K!” Brett Erskine bellowed from the other side of the fishbowl window, his arm slung possessively around Suzannah Cohan’s shoulder. “Are we going or what?”
Sam threw him a thumbs-up gesture and neatened the stack of papers he’d been scanning—okay, yes—he had been procrastinating. Damn, she wasn’t going to show. No sense waiting any longer. Especially with the knuckleheads getting restless.
Swinging his camera bag onto his shoulder, he reached for the office door just as it flew inward, forcing him to take a startled step back. Sherry Hillman burst through and right into his arms.
“Oh, Sam—um, Mr. Kerrigan. Just the man I’ve been looking for.”
“Afternoon, Ms. Hillman.”
Extricating himself from the voluptuous woman, he stepped away, his hands spread wide. Second time in a week he’d ended up with his arms around a woman.
Funny, Rikki, soaking wet, angry, and someone he hardly knew, was more welcome and right in his arms than this woman who’d relentlessly chased him for the past two years. Since the ink on her divorce decree had dried, she’d been after Sam to become husband number two. A position he wasn’t eager to take. He’d lost track of the number of her invitations he’d declined. Sometimes, Sherry made it difficult to maintain professional distance. Like right now.
“I wanted to set up tutoring sessions for Alyson. She’s struggling with your physics class.” The woman’s nails bit deep as she flexed her fingers on his bicep.
Sam backed away from her. She followed. “Alyson’s doing fine in class. Her marks are above average.”
“She complains all the time about how hard this subject is. I think she needs help.”
Alyson wasn’t the only one who needed help. Sam darted his eyes around the room, looking for someone to intervene on his behalf. The attendance secretary smirked at him and ducked her head over h
er computer keyboard. Sam scowled, mentally vowing vengeance, and forced his attention back to Sherry. “You really need to find Mrs. Scott. She’s in charge of tutors.”
“But, Sam, you know my Aly better than anyone. I’d prefer you select someone to help her. Although, I’d rather you tutor her yourself.”
She ran a red-tipped nail down his arm to the underside of his wrist, scratching suggestively at the thin skin. Jesus, was she really batting her eyelashes at him?
Sam took another step backward and pulled his bag across his chest, a clear blocking signal. Well, it would be to most people. He doubted Sherry Hillman understood the message.
“Teachers don’t tutor students individually. Alyson should attend the help sessions I offer after school on Thursdays. I find the students can usually explain the theories in terms other students get.”
Sherry pursed her lips into an unbecoming pout and jammed a hand on her hips, drawing his attention to her painted-on jeans and hot pink clingy top. Her attire reminded him of one of his mom’s favorite expressions—mutton dressed as lamb. Sherry Hillman clothed herself more like a teenage girl than her daughter did. A sympathy pang for the teen destined to live in the shadow of her brazen mother zipped through his chest. Bringing his hand up, he unconsciously massaged the ache away.
“Talk to Mrs. Scott. She’ll get Alyson set up. And encourage her to come to the help sessions. If you’ll excuse me, my photography club is waiting.”
“Fine. I’ll see make sure Aly comes to you on Thursdays if I have to drag her there myself.”
Knowing Sherry, she’d probably sit through the sessions at her daughter’s side, just to be noticed by him. Sam nodded and scooted around her, attempting to minimize any contact since she’d planted her body in the doorway. Forcing himself to not roll his eyes, he made his escape. Once again, Rikki Salerno popped into his mind, with the random thought that he wouldn’t have avoided rubbing body parts with the exotic beauty.
The ten teens waiting for him in the hallway had observed the entire exchange with Sherry. They didn’t bother to suppress their grins.
“You guys have your equipment?” he asked, irritated with the situation.
They waggled their camera bags.
“Let’s go then.”
Flipping a glance over his shoulder, Sherry hugged the doorframe with one hand and ran the other down her body as she gazed at him. Her tongue snaked out to caress her bright pink lower lip, a clear invitation. Sam repressed a shudder and hustled the teens out the door toward the freedom of the parking lot.
The woman was incorrigible.
* * * *
“Hey, Suzannah! You’re wading too far out. Come on back and focus on the jetty.”
Maybe the rocky harbor wasn’t the best idea for a photo lesson. Trying to keep the teens from wading was worse than herding cats. Red flags flew from the unmanned lifeguard stand, notifying the public there were dangerous currents in the area. Most of the kids stayed on the boulders, trying to capture the light, shadow, and texture of the structure. Unfortunately, Suzannah and Brett splashed and giggled in thigh-deep water.
Brett grabbed for the girl’s butt and both of them lost their balance, barely managing to stay upright in the surf with the digital cameras their parents had bought them slung around their necks. Irritation at their callous treatment of the expensive equipment surged through Sam. He rolled his shoulders, trying to curb the urge to yell. The mercenary nature of some of his students never failed to amaze him. As soon as they ruined their latest toy, their parents would present them with a new one, as if the cost were nothing.
Shaking his head, Sam turned his attention back to kids who were participating in the lesson. He’d find time later to lecture Brett and Suzannah about their distracting behavior and flagrant disregard for instructions.
Oh, hell. Katie Germaine hadn’t listened to his instructions either.
“Hey Katie, you’re using the wrong lens. You’re using a wide-angle lens to take a close-up snap.” He pointed to the lettering etched on the side. He stopped her just before her finger depressed the lens release. “No, don’t change it here. You’ll get sand in the body.” He turned, gesturing toward the Front Street shops. “See what kind of light variations you can capture from the reflection off the shop windows. And think about composition—what’s going to be in the picture you don’t want.”
He twisted back toward Katie but stopped and did a double-take.
Good Christ, she’d come.
Rikki Salerno sat on the hood of a black SUV, a camera with a long-range lens trained on the group of students clambering over the jetty like ants. Her dark hair fluttered in the breeze off the harbor, a wild halo around her head.
“Be right back,” he muttered to no one in particular and began the trek up the beach toward the parking lot. What the hell was it about this woman who drew him like iron shavings to a magnet?
She lowered her camera and waved as he approached. Sliding off the hood of the SUV, she waited until he neared to greet him.
“I went to the school first, but the secretary said you’d already left. She pointed me here…told me this was where you’d brought your group of hooligans.” She slipped the lens cap into place and powered off her camera. “You’re doing a light and shadow study?”
“Yeah. This spot is great, especially in the afternoon. Plus, they can learn how to layer in texture. These rocks have been pounded by surf for hundreds of years, the striations are interesting.”
Rikki lifted her chin toward the pier. “Your girl there is going to ruin her camera.”
“Huh?” The breeze picked up and he grabbed for his ball cap.
She pointed toward the jetty. Spinning around, he spied Katie holding a lens in one hand, a camera body in the other, exposing the internal workings to the sand tossed around by a sudden wind gust.
“Jesus Christ! Katie, stop!” He took off running. He’d warned her not to switch a lens at the beach. In typical teen fashion, she’d ignored the warning.
“It’s okay, Mr. K. I’m almost do—” The freckled redhead turned to spit out the mouth of sand she’d just inhaled.
He grabbed the camera from her and pressed the gaping opening against his chest. “Katie, what did we talk about in class?”
“That these are delicate cameras.”
“Right, and what else?”
“Oh, no. One single grain of sand can ruin the sensor. I’m sorry. I forgot.” Katie hung her head, her frizzy hair spilling forward to hide her expression.
Feeling bad about his lack of patience with the girl, Sam softened his tone. “Where’s the body cap?”
Katie pulled the translucent circular cap from her back pocket and offered it to him.
“The school board wouldn’t be happy if they have to pay for professional cleaning. Neither would your dad.”
Rikki joined them. Crowding next to him, she raised the flaps of her jacket as a shield against the breeze. His pulse raced when her breasts brushed his chest as she adjusted her position to create a better barrier. A light, beguiling scent—peaches, maybe—teased his nose. He remained motionless, devouring her with his eyes, the cap dangling between his fingers.
“Mr. K? Can I have the camera back?” Katie’s high giggling voice broke the spell.
“Shit, sorry.” Katie’s mouth rounded in shock at his use of a cuss word. His cheeks heated at Rikki’s patient, questioning look.
The cap popped as he snapped it onto the camera body. Rikki stepped away, zipping up her fleece jacket. Too bad. He’d have liked to grab her the same way Brett had grabbed Suzannah. He was as bad as a horny teenager. He caught another whiff of her perfume when the wind gusted again. Giving himself a mental shake, he focused his gaze on his student. “No, you cannot have it back. This is an expensive piece of school property. If you’d been listening to directions, we wouldn’t be having this discussion. I’m disappointed in you, Katie.”
Tears glittered in the girl’s eyes behind the lenses of her
glasses.
Sam regretted his harsh words. She was a good student, just…awkward. He’d heard other students mock her, seen them accidentally bump her books out of her arms in the halls at school. An ugly memory of his personal brush with bullying in high school roared to life. When Sam’s so-called friend had involved him in an incident, then lied to protect his own sorry ass. Sam hated being lied to, and lied about. Bullies were cruel at any age, but dealing with it in high school when self-esteem was so important, was doubly degrading. He clenched his jaw and mentally counted to five, shoving the sour thoughts away.
He tempered his tone with an encouraging smile. “Grab the point-and-shoot camera from the school equipment bag. You can play around with focus and color settings and get some decent pictures. Now, go on.”
She walked away, her head hanging low.
“I’m so glad I’m not a fifteen-year-old girl anymore.”
Sam pulled his gaze from Katie and faced Rikki. Her voice sounded like silk sheets and hot summer nights. It slid through his system like a shot of premium tequila, lighting a fire in his belly.
All sentient thought evacuated his brain when Rikki smiled. Oh, no, he’d begun thinking with an entirely different part of his anatomy. He clenched his fist to quell the urge to capture her lush bottom lip with his teeth and forced the insistent, growing need into a small dark box in his mind.
“There aren’t many teen years I’d do over, either. Katie’s a good kid, but her head’s in the clouds all the time. It causes problems for her that aren’t as easily fixed as ‘find a different camera.’”
A vague gnawing chiseled away at his gut. How often had he interceded when the girl had been caught in the sights of the school bullies? He’d lost count of the times he’d stood in the hall, running late for his class to ensure that Katie made it to hers with the least amount of abuse. Teenagers sucked. There was no other word for it. He fiddled with the camera he’d confiscated from Katie. A gull screamed overhead, the sound echoing off the rocks lining the harbor.
Exposed to Passion (Five Senses series Book 3) Page 2
