First to Fail: A Strictly Professional Romance (Unraveled Book 3)

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First to Fail: A Strictly Professional Romance (Unraveled Book 3) Page 4

by Marie Johnston


  He towered over me by at least eight inches. My head would fit perfectly against his broad chest. As I gazed up at him, the blatant desire I’d seen when we first met was back. My memory was as sharp as a tack when it summoned the feel and taste of him. He was so close and it was just the two of us.

  Shoving his hands into his pockets—to keep from sweeping me into his arms again?—he smiled. “I guess this means I shouldn’t call you.”

  He could have dumped a cold glass of water on me. Reality crashed back. “Yes. It does.” Please call me.

  No.

  Hold firm, Natalia.

  How could more heat infuse his gaze? Was my internal struggle obvious?

  “That’s a shame.” He went for the door but stopped with his hand on the knob and spoke low. “Nice to see you again, Valaria.”

  My breath caught and I wanted to run after him like a damsel in distress. I wanted him to strip me out of my costume inch by inch while he devoured my body—but that fantasy needed to be relegated to the forgotten zone. I couldn’t be anything more to Chris than his daughter’s principal.

  Chapter 4

  Chris

  I rang up customers as the store’s Saturday game-day club wrapped up their afternoon. Saturdays and Sundays were always busy days but some of my favorites. It might be the weekend, but it beat sitting through tag-team board meetings Monday through Friday. And I didn’t have to work every weekend. Only when Jaycee was with her grandparents.

  Work didn’t stop me from thinking about her. Uptight Ms. Shaw turned Valaria the Assassin. Or vice versa? Was the real Natalia Shaw somewhere in the middle?

  How many cold showers had I taken to get her transformation out of my mind? Uptight Ms. Shaw got me as hot as Valaria. I’d be in trouble if trouble was even an option. The way Ms. Shaw had booted Jaycee out of detention when I’d driven up the circular drive to the entrance of the school, she wasn’t harboring aspirations of sneaking in forbidden time with me.

  Glad to see the cosmic balance of my life was holding up.

  Lose my virginity at seventeen, have a baby. Hit my career stride, become a single dad. Meet the woman of my dreams, discover she’s my daughter’s principal.

  The game-club players started filing out. A few stayed behind to browse the aisles. They were all regulars and it’d been hours since lunch. I ducked to the back office to guzzle a water and check my messages.

  My mouth twitched when I opened the picture Jaycee had sent. She was strolling behind her grandparents at the Mall of America. She had her tongue sticking out and her hand in the rock on position. I could make out the designer plush coat her grandmother was wearing and the tweed suit of her grandfather. They made an odd, but expensive pair. Add Jaycee and her torn jeans into the mix and no wonder Jaycee was blowing off steam, though it was in a thankfully subdued and not outrageous way.

  It was the weekend Jaycee dined with her mother. At least Cierra was making an effort to stay in Jaycee’s life, even if she refused to take any responsibility for the girl otherwise. Since Cierra did whatever her parents wanted, I probably should thank them.

  But they never thanked me for a thing, so…

  The bell for the front door dinged. I tossed my empty bottle in the recycling bin and strode back out and around the corner. Stopping, I stared at the new customer.

  Natalia browsed through the action figure selections. Her eyes were narrowed and she was leaning close to the hanging display. My lips quirked. She was inspecting the detail on the figures for ideas. Was she coming up with a new character or expanding on Valaria?

  This version of Ms. Shaw was better than the rest. She wore an emerald-green sweatshirt that I’d bet my collector comic book stash was a Preston Academy sweatshirt. Soft jeans molded her legs like Valaria’s suit. On her feet were ballet slippers, and the best part? Her hair was down. No wig. No bun wound so tight that if the band snapped it could take out someone’s eye. A cascade of light brown waves fell across the hood of her sweatshirt. My fingers twitched to run through it.

  I had it bad.

  She adjusted the tote over her shoulder and turned to scan the rest of the store. Had she been in here before? Yes, she’d bought the prism on her bookshelf. The lone object decorating her office, and I was probably the only person in the school who knew what it was. Well, me and Jaycee, but my daughter would never admit her knowledge in Preston.

  I scanned the store, trying to see it from a customer’s view. A common tactic Mara and I used to stage the floor, but we were also customers. I wanted to know what Natalia thought of Arcadia. It was more than a comic book store. To remain viable and profitable, Mara and I had expanded to any and every product that would sell. But the building itself was an inviting work of architecture.

  The front was floor-to-ceiling windows, and skylights continued the open feel to the ceiling. Arched wooden beams mixed with metal supports to lend a trendy industrial feel to the space.

  Natalia’s brow formed an adorable crease when she spotted the clothing section. It was replaced by bright excitement. She beelined to the racks.

  I hadn’t moved. All other shoppers had filtered out, knowing it was close to closing time.

  Good thing. I might growl at someone approaching the register to interrupt my spying.

  Natalia flitted through the clothing racks like an evil scientist who’d found a hidden lair full of abandoned inventions. I wanted to call Mara and thank her for expanding our inventory to include pop culture clothing. Not only was it hugely profitable, but it might make Natalia a repeat customer.

  She was chewing her lip over a pair of folded leggings in her hands. I couldn’t tell what comic book universe they were from; I just wanted to see them on her.

  Setting them back, Natalia turned and wandered to our accessories section. She passed realistic plastic broadswords and battleaxes, slowed when passing the variety of capes offered in all shapes and sizes, then stopped and smiled in front of a full-sized replica of Dr. Strange’s cape.

  Yeah, that was my favorite, too.

  I tracked her as she moved past the costume selection to the face paint.

  Face paint? Really?

  She picked through an assortment and chose two. Again, I couldn’t see the colors.

  She lifted her gaze to scan the store.

  I grinned when her eyes roved past me, then jerked back. A blush stained her cheeks.

  “Can I help you find anything?” I called and started her way.

  “I-I—” She looked around, noticed we were the only two now in the store, and hastily put her face paint back. “I came to ask if you can post… You know what, never mind.” She flashed me an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

  My strides ate the distance between us before she could run. “It’s all right. What’d you come for?”

  “You work Saturdays?” she blurted.

  She’d only come because she thought I wouldn’t be here? My earlier thrill at seeing her threatened to die a slow, painful death. Unless…she’d hoped I’d be here. Even if it were only subconsciously, I’d take it.

  “Jaycee stays with her grandparents one weekend a month. Then I work that weekend.” He shrugged. “They’re fun.”

  “Oh.” Her gaze strayed to the door, but she didn’t move.

  I kept my tone from being too pushy or eager. “What brought you here?”

  She dug in her tote and withdrew some papers. “Since you’re already keeping one secret for me, we can add this to the pile. Can you hang this by the entry?”

  I accepted the flyer. It was a poster for…the roller derby? “From assassin to Minneapolis Mean Streaks?”

  Her flush deepened. Seeing me here had obviously thrown her, but that hadn’t stopped her from sharing another part of her life with me. Was there a loophole in her fraternization policy?

  Because this woman was intriguing.

  So far, I’d met three sides of her, and Ms. Shaw was the oddball in the bunch. “Why the secret identity? Ms. Shaw by day, cool-as-hell
chick by night?” I probably didn’t phrase it the best way, but I’d never been one to hide from myself. I let my geek flag fly.

  Her shoulders drooped. “I’m a principal at a prestigious private school. How seriously do you think the parents and the school board would take me if they knew I cosplayed—after someone explained what that is—and bashed into other women on roller skates?”

  “Why do you care what they think?” I was no longer in the same social circles as a lot of the other parents, and my quality of life had greatly improved.

  “Says the man.”

  Whoa. Yeah. I got what she was saying. And how could I argue? Some of the parents were nice, decent people. Others would use every angle they could to skewer someone who’d done them wrong. And if invalidating Ms. Shaw because of her social activities did the trick, they’d be ruthless.

  “To be fair, being a dude who owns a comic book shop doesn’t impress them either.”

  She smiled, then blinked. “You own Arcadia?”

  “Co-own. Arcadia was Mara’s idea, but when her husband shut it down, I offered to go halfsies to resurrect it.”

  “Her husband shut it down?”

  “They weren’t seeing each other then. It’s quite a story. And Wes was quite an asshole then. He’s not now. Not to us anyway.”

  “That’s good.” She gave the store another cursory glance. “I’m impressed with what you’ve done with the place. When I searched for comic book shops, I expected a closet shoved in a strip mall.”

  I laughed. “Like I said, Wes shut it down. Want the tour?” When she nodded, I pointed to the windows. “Wes’s friend is in construction and he gave us a deal to use Arcadia as advertising. Most of what Flynn did before this was office buildings and they can only have so much flair.”

  “It’s definitely inviting. Makes me not want to leave.”

  I hoped she didn’t. Leading her around, I explained my and Mara’s reasoning with our options and displays. Natalia nodded, her interest genuine. As long as her eyes weren’t glazing, I kept talking.

  The open sign had flicked off, thanks to a timer. I didn’t want to be interrupted.

  “This is just…” She spun around, her gaze sweeping the entire store. I’d thought my pride was boundless before her reaction. “I’m really impressed. I’ve never seen a comic book store quite like this. There are a couple in Seattle that are bigger than a hole in the wall, but nothing like Arcadia.”

  “Is that where you’re from?” I couldn’t help trying to get to know her.

  The corner of her mouth lifted. “Sort of. I was born here when my dad was— But I call Seattle home.” She gestured to the flyer I still held. “If you wouldn’t mind posting that? I told them I’d drop it by, so you shouldn’t have more solicitors showing up.”

  “Here, I’ll show you where we’ll hang it.” She was ready to bolt and I didn’t want her to leave yet. There had to be some way around the fraternization policy. Was it Preston Academy’s policy or her personal one? It was a smart one, unless you actually met someone you wanted to get to know. Then it was a pain in the ass.

  The bulletin board where we hung announcements was by the entrance. She was primed to leave anyway; I might as well squeak out more time with her before she jetted.

  “I’ll also add the information to our website. We have a community section for related events.” She stopped next to me and I was about to stick a tack into it but thought better. I paused and grinned at her. “I forgot to mention there’s a fee to post this.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Oh yeah?”

  “What’s your derby name?”

  Her lips twitched, reminding me how they’d felt pressed against my own. “I haven’t played an official game yet.” She cleared her throat and looked around, then spoke low. “Shaw Shank.”

  I chuckled as I stabbed the tack into the poster. “Nice. I would’ve thought you’d avoid Shaw. For anonymity.”

  She crossed her arms. “My personal and professional worlds don’t normally coincide. You seem to be the exception.”

  My grin faded. “I wish I was more of an exception. Like taking you to dinner tonight.”

  Her arms fell and regret passed through her eyes. “Chris, I…”

  The way she said my first name. So much better than Mr. Halliwell. “I know, Natalia. But I’ve been single for a long time and you were more than a passing interest. I don’t normally kiss convention attendees.”

  The ridges of her cheekbones flushed. I hoped it was because she liked remembering our quick make out and not because she was ashamed of it.

  “My job” was all she said, but it was half-hearted.

  “Jaycee doesn’t graduate for four years. I don’t want to write us off because of a career.” A career that doesn’t suit you. The more I got to know her, the more I couldn’t understand the Ms. Shaw side of her. Valaria? Shaw Shank? Neither of those screamed uptight principal. Neither did the form-hugging jeans that cradled her body the way I wanted to.

  Skepticism entered her eyes. “I’m sure you have plenty of options.”

  “Have you ever tried dating—leading with ‘I work in a comic book shop’ and ending with ‘I have a teenager’? I haven’t had to lock the door against a line of single ladies waiting to ask me out.”

  A laugh burst from her. “Maybe if you’d quit being so hostile when someone criticizes the latest DC universe movie, you would have better luck.”

  “Then I wouldn’t have a sexy assassin coming to my rescue.”

  Her laughter faded, but her smile stayed. “I think you could’ve handled it yourself.”

  “Not without losing business. They were about to diss my favorite character.”

  She hadn’t left yet, but indecision warred in her gaze. “I just… What if we’re seen together?”

  I didn’t want to push it and seem desperate, but I was. For her. Talking to her was as easy as talking to Mara, who’d become my best friend. But I didn’t want to kiss Mara. Natalia was another story. “How about you come over? Jaycee’s gone for the weekend. I don’t burn too many meals since I learned to cook.” If I had anything to throw together for dinner. I’d planned on having a sandwich.

  “What if I have to discipline Jaycee again?” Her tone cut like Ms. Shaw. I almost sighed. Because like it or not, that’s who she was.

  “The first time went well. Jaycee needs to learn consequences for her behavior. My concern is her grandparents, but they’re for me to deal with, not you.”

  She was going to turn me down. I’d have to spend the night dealing with my disappointment and bemoaning the one that got away.

  “Okay.”

  My brows popped. “Really?” My voice damn near cracked like I was one of her nervous students.

  “I won’t confess my giant disappointment at learning you are a parent of one of my students, but since I don’t usually lust after the other moms and dads, maybe it’s worth exploring.”

  If her tone weren’t so clinical, I’d feel better. But at least she was willing to give us a chance. “Want to follow me home?”

  Natalia

  Natalia Shaw Preston, what the hell are you doing?

  I steered my silver Lexus behind Chris’s practical Ford. It was charcoal gray and not exactly what I’d expected. Since he didn’t seem concerned with others’ opinions, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d rolled up with an Arcadia advertising wrap around his entire vehicle. But at the same time, his Edge fit him exactly. Understated. Efficient.

  What a gorgeous store he owned. It had more artistic flair than some museums I’d been in—some art studios, for that matter. What career had he left that he could afford to build such a state-of-the-art comic book shop?

  Either he or his partner had to be business savvy, and while I’d never officially met his partner, I’d gotten lost in Chris’s keen gaze long enough to know he was capable.

  The combo of brains and looks was why I’d embarked on this foolish endeavor to have dinner with him. Volunteerin
g to drop off the flyers at Arcadia, knowing full well Chris might be working, was one thing. But dinner at his home? Sure, it was private, and I didn’t have to worry about being seen on a date with a Preston Academy parent. But it was his home. It was more…intimate.

  I didn’t usually jump between the sheets with my dates. Usually there was a waiting period. The guy often knew my father and suspected the sum in my bank account. He’d have to show off his own talent and business acumen. When he thought I was duly impressed, then he moved in with the underwhelming physical prowess. If I orgasmed, I considered the relationship a success, no matter how short-term it was.

  And they were usually brief. Even if we were physically compatible, I quickly grew stifled, holding a huge part of myself back. I wanted to see superhero movies, he wanted to see the latest critically acclaimed indie film. I’d once missed Emerald City Comic Con because my boyfriend had had March Madness fever. Was there anything more boring than a basketball game full of people I didn’t know? I often attended high school games Preston Academy played in, but that was to cheer on kids I’d seen put in hours of effort—and who weren’t being paid millions to play. Unless they were given a free ride to Preston Academy, which happened all too frequently. Thus, the financial issues of the last school I’d taken charge of.

  I switched my concentration back to Chris. He was pulling into the driveway of a cute little clapboard house. The academy was nestled in the trees in a suburb outside of Minneapolis. Chris also lived in Eden Prairie. Should I have followed him home in my own car?

  The part he lived in screamed middle-class, unlike the neighborhoods the rest of my students lived in. His house was one of many on the block; it didn’t take up the whole block. I had rented a town house in a gated community in Bloomington. Maybe I should’ve invited him back to my place, but I didn’t care to spend more time than I had to in the big, empty house.

  The garage door opened, and he pulled inside. I was debating pulling into his driveway or parking along the curb when the second garage door opened.

 

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