by Laura Moore
When the first slide appeared on the screen, she drew a breath and straightened, ready to greet the assembled parents.
Her gaze swept the wide semicircle of adult faces. When she got to where Hayley’s metal-and-wood desk was positioned and to the lone man sitting behind it, she stalled.
It couldn’t be.
It was.
THEIR EYES met and locked in a clash of intense blue and green. For days she had been steeling herself, prepared for his disapproval. But it was her own stark horror as she recognized the strikingly handsome man in the deep-blue shirt—the very shirt she’d stripped off his muscular torso—that left her reeling.
She obviously had the absolute worst luck in the world. Of all the people in Warburg, Rob Cooper was the one she most wanted to convince that she’d become an upstanding, straitlaced, buttoned-up, respectable person, a proper elementary-school teacher.
Yet barely a month ago, she’d been writhing and moaning for him—without a stitch or a button on.
How could he be the guy she’d slept with in Norfolk, the guy who’d given her an unforgettable night of scorching sex? Giantlike in Hayley’s chair, Rob Cooper looked way too stiff to know how to do half the stuff they’d done together. But though she’d have given the last penny she owned to be wrong, she knew that cleft chin; she’d traced the beard-roughened indentation with the tip of her tongue. She knew those blue eyes as well. When he’d pushed himself deep inside her, those same eyes had seared her, electric and sizzling hot.
He was watching her just as intently now. But the effect was quite different: His glare was as cold—and as terrifying—as a nuclear winter.
So he’d recognized her. Great, just great.
The tiny part of her that had been hoping against hope that he would fail to connect her with the woman he’d met in Norfolk withered beneath his icy stare. Of course, with her lousy luck, she should have realized that would have been as likely as winning the Lotto.
He’d obviously identified her and was probably fantasizing about throwing her in jail for the next twenty years.
Life was so unfair. If he’d looked like this in Norfolk, so stern and condemning, she’d never have agreed to dance with him, let alone take him upstairs to her hotel room—God, why hadn’t she recognized him? He’d been the bogeyman of her youth.
A dreadful answer sprang to mind. Maybe she had recognized him. Maybe she was such a twisted mess of a human being that some part of her had known precisely who he was and opted to spend a night rolling between the sheets with him anyway.
No, she thought with a mental shake. Not even at her most self-destructive would she have gone near Officer Rob Cooper, Warburg’s very own RoboCop. He was too darned scary.
Another image of them together—of her body straining against his as he entered her from behind, of his hands fondling and stroking her breasts while he drove deep inside her, touching her core while she shuddered and trembled around him—had her wishing the floor would open up and swallow her whole. But it didn’t, and she was left standing there, exposed to the chilling blast of his anger.
The discordant squeak of chairs and the restless stir and shift of bodies abruptly reminded her of the seventeen couples who were also staring at her. How many minutes had elapsed while they’d been waiting for her to start, waiting for her to say something? The smug smile on Christy Harrison’s lips answered her: too long.
Damn. She had to pull herself together or she’d compound the disaster by messing up her presentation. She could do this. She simply had to pretend Rob Cooper wasn’t there. If she didn’t look at him, it would be as if he didn’t exist. No biggie. Out of sight, out of mind …
Did anyone actually believe in this positive-thinking malarkey? she wondered, fighting a rising panic. How could she possibly ignore him when he sat there, a living, breathing reminder of her latest screwup?
And, man, he really had the whole wrath-of-God act down pat, didn’t he?
Just focus on the freakin’ screen, she told herself.
The roaring in his ears made it impossible to hear a single detail of Hayley’s supposed curriculum. Nor had he been able to focus on the projection screen; his gaze had narrowed to one and only one object: her.
He couldn’t believe it, had nearly fallen off his under-size plastic chair when she looked over at him and he saw Jade Radcliffe for the first time in years and, click, an image of his sinfully sexy siren—naked and writhing beneath him—was superimposed over demure Miss Radcliffe, his little girl’s idol.
Jesus H. Christ, there she was, standing in front of the class in a slim skirt that fell nearly to her ankles, ballet flats, and a simple buttoned top, the very picture of innocence and modesty, gulling everyone as she talked calmly about God only knew what, and all he could think about was what she was hiding beneath that schoolmarm outfit: an impossibly sexy body that was all taut curves and silken flesh.
And he’d touched and tasted every sweet inch of it.
Memories hot and vivid flashed in his mind.
He thought of the blue-violet butterfly that floated just below her hip bone, remembered pressing his mouth against it and feeling her skin quiver beneath his lips, recalled the tangy taste of her when he’d drawn his tongue slowly down her cleft and probed her slick heat. He could hear the exact pitch of her moan as he thrust into her, filling her, driving them both toward the edge, and it was enough to make him want to jump out of his chair and drag her out of the classroom and …
Do what exactly? a voice asked.
That was the hell of it. He was damned if he knew what to do in such a situation.
Jade would never say another condescending word about people who read aloud verbatim from their PowerPoint presentations. With Rob Cooper’s furious gaze fixed unwaveringly on her, it was a miracle she’d managed that much. Even then she’d been forced to lean against her teacher’s desk to support her trembling legs. The edge of it had bitten deep, leaving grooves in her palms.
She tried not to rush through the last slide, which showed the kids working on the diorama of the Nile, and squelched the impulse to sprint out of the room when the screen went blank.
Then she was surrounded by chattering parents and was absurdly grateful to talk at length to them; Rob Cooper wasn’t among the group.
“I just wanted to tell you how much Sam is enjoying the year so far. I simply love the picture he drew of himself with our dog, Barney.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Mrs. Powell. Sam’s a lot of fun. He’s got a very developed sense of humor.” To the delight of the other boys in the class, Sam had brought a whoopee cushion in for show-and-tell. After the gut-busting laughs—which had Sam, Kyle, Jay, Chris, James, and even Eugene Harrison rolling on the floor—had subsided, Jade steered the discussion to other funny noises: the trumpeting of an elephant, the rumbling of a hungry stomach, the croaking of a bullfrog. Alana had raised her hand and said she thought the funniest sound was her little sister’s laugh. The show-and-tell session had led to the prompt for the day’s journal entry: writing about the funniest noise ever.
“Older brothers,” Mr. Powell explained with an apologetic shrug. “Speaking of which, we better go see what the gang’s been up to. We’ve got our thirteen-year-old twins, Charlie and Derek, babysitting. To avoid any disasters, we took the precaution of telling the three of them that Officer Cooper would be here tonight and that if there was any trouble, he’d be coming by the house later in his patrol car. Good to meet you, Miss Radcliffe. Bye, Rob.”
Jade could only nod. The huge lump lodged in her throat made speech impossible. She’d been so busy not looking, she hadn’t realized Rob was the last parent left in the room. She wished there was somebody else; she’d have been happy to listen to Christy Harrison in all her glittering disdain.
What to say to him? Something along the lines of: Hiya, stranger. Missed me? Yeah, right. She’d rather be dragged over burning coals than admit she knew what he looked like beneath that shirt—good God, it really w
as the one he’d been wearing that night in Norfolk.
He looked at her, his expression as far from friendly as Mars was from Earth. “From cruising bars to teaching seven-year-olds—you do it all, don’t you?”
She swallowed, and the lump that had been lodged in her throat sank right down to the pit of her stomach. It didn’t make speaking any easier, and she truly had no idea how to deal with the situation. Not that he was giving her a chance to speak. He’d already started again.
“So answer me this: Did you know who I was at the bar?”
Heat stole over her. “I—I—No—” She shook her head violently.
“Yeah, I think you did know,” he contradicted forcefully. “I think you wanted to screw me, in every sense of the word.”
She stared at him. “Are you nuts? I haven’t seen you in years. And you didn’t look like you.”
“Of course I did,” he replied. “Which means that you’re a liar.”
Her hands balled into tight fists at her sides. She could practically feel the steam shooting out of her ears. “No, it means you’re totally obtuse. I did not recognize you!”
He raised a mocking brow at her outburst. “If what you say is true, then that means you’re into random pickups with strangers. I’d say either of those makes you unsuitable to teach Hayley. I’m calling Ted Guerra tomorrow and having her transferred to Mrs. Creighton’s class.”
The pain of his announcement surprised her. After all, she’d already wondered how he’d react to her—someone he regarded as an ex–juvenile delinquent—teaching his daughter. That he’d had sex with her too clearly disgusted him. Well, in that respect, the feeling was mutual. She wasn’t exactly thrilled to discover her mystery lover was a moralistic prig.
And damn her body for reacting so traitorously. She shouldn’t be ridiculously aware of his nearness and the heat coming off his body or how infuriatingly sexy he looked even when filled with righteous disapproval. How could she be feeling the electric sizzle between them—the same as she’d felt on that dance floor—when she knew who he was and didn’t remotely like him?
But she did like Hayley, who was bright and eager to learn, and who was furthermore a deeply sensitive little girl. When Jade had discussed parents’ night with the class earlier in the day, she’d seen how hard it was for Hayley when the other kids talked about their mothers and fathers being there. As someone who had lost her own parents, she understood the pain Hayley felt at such moments, how much the little girl must miss her mother. She thought she could help Hayley with some of the things she was going through … help her grow.
But it looked like she wasn’t going to get the opportunity. Hearing Rob Cooper say he intended to yank Hayley out of her class, away from what he doubtless considered her corrupting presence, hurt her. And it galled that he was behaving as if everything were her fault, as if she’d bewitched him into being her sex slave.
If memory served, it had been he who cupped her ass and pulled her flush against the very solid evidence of his desire. It had been his roughly whispered “Do you have a room?” that had turned her brain to mush. No matter how much he wanted to pretend otherwise, he’d been every inch the eager participant.
Although she was sorely tempted to spit in his perfectly sculpted face, she told herself to behave maturely. Professionally.
She raised her chin and summoned her most even and detached tone. “Hayley’s a lovely little girl, and I think that we’ve already formed a nice bond. I’m sorry to hear that you feel that I can’t teach Hayley. But as her father, you have to do what you feel is best.”
A clever response, Rob acknowledged. Phrased to maximize his sense of guilt and remind him of what he knew perfectly well: Hayley adored Jade Radcliffe. He’d have a devil of a time explaining to her why she was being switched to Mrs. Creighton’s class. Just thinking of how unhappy she’d be made his gut twist.
He felt pretty damned rotten about the flash of hurt he’d seen in Jade’s eyes when he announced his intention to pull Hayley from her class. He didn’t understand why it should bother him that he’d hurt Jade or why he felt such guilt—where she was concerned, he didn’t want to feel anything except anger.
What was it about her? She was unquestionably the wrong type of woman for him, yet he couldn’t stop looking at her. Nor could he stop remembering how it had been between them.
Jesus, he thought, struggling to absorb it all. It had been hard enough to come to terms with the fact that his young daughter’s teacher was also a former juvie, that the first time he’d run into her she was passed out and reeking to high heaven, the charming aftereffects of a house party he’d helped bust. That she’d also snuck into the Den with a fake ID, been the cause of a fistfight, and was the reason he’d been tied up in the station booking all concerned while Becky lay dying—No. He pulled his thoughts up short. He couldn’t link those incidents or his mind would friggin’ explode.
But if that history was hard enough to accept, what was he supposed to do with the uncomfortable fact that Jade Radcliffe also happened to be the green-eyed wildcat he’d fucked almost every way he could imagine? And that even now, when he knew who and what she was, she still made his pulse run wild—and his body harden with need?
How could she stand there, only inches away from him, with such self-possession? He wanted to see that cool composure slip and know that she was as off balance as he.
He angled his head and gave her a long hard stare. It was a look that had a proven track record of intimidating the hell out of people. “Yeah, I’d say it’s definitely my prerogative to do what I believe is in Hayley’s best interest. So, now that I’ve determined she won’t be your pupil, you might as well ’fess up. You did recognize me in Norfolk and decided it would be fun to pull the wool over my eyes and sleep with me, didn’t you?” Sure, he was harping on the issue, but it was important for him to know Jade had intentionally seduced him that night. For them to have been caught up in some intense mutual attraction was too disturbing a notion.
What a megajerk, Jade thought, as the hold on her temper snapped. For a brief moment she was actually happy Hayley wasn’t going to be in her class, because now she was free to tell this oaf exactly what she thought.
“If you had half a brain, you’d realize what a stupid idea that is. You’re the last person I’d want to do anything with. I’d have beat the world record sprinting out of that bar if I’d known that in addition to being the cop who busted me twice, you’re a hypocritical prig—”
“Who are you calling a hypocritical prig?” he snarled softly.
She was too angry to care that his expression had turned thunderous. Shooting him a contemptuous glare, she said, “The truth hurts, doesn’t it? Fact check: You’re the one who asked me to dance, the one who asked if I had a room in the hotel, the one who used every condom I had and would have probably gone through more of them if there’d been any. So don’t attempt to rewrite history and pretend I lured you to the hotel room to have my wicked way with you. We were two consenting adults. No laws were broken. While I’ll certainly miss having Hayley in my class, the upside is that I won’t have to deal with you and be reminded of the lousy mistake I made sleeping with you.” Her fury growing with each point she made, she began to jab his chest with her index finger for emphasis. But when she finished with a damning “So I’d appreciate it, Officer Cooper, if you’d take a really long hike off a really short pier—” he caught her wrist, holding it between their bodies.
“That night we spent together was a lousy mistake, was it?”
Ignoring the firestorm sweeping through her simply because his hand was encircling her wrist, she thrust her chin out mutinously and glared at him. Her pulse was hammering against the pads of his long fingers. It galled her that he doubtless felt it. “Absolutely. A colossal mistake. One of my worst.”
“Liar.”
They stared at each other as the whispered word hung in the air between them.
And as the seconds slipped by, she wa
s filled with a rising sense of despair. Because not only was he right—this time she was lying—but also because it was happening again. It being the strange, electrifying sense of connection between them. Only now it was a thousand times more unsettling. How could she feel this out-of-control attraction to Rob Cooper?
“I really don’t care what you think,” she enunciated through gritted teeth, afraid that if she opened her mouth, her voice would come out all breathy and weak from the need raging inside her.
“Well, I’m going to share anyway. I don’t believe you think the night we spent together was a mistake at all. I don’t believe you’ve forgotten the things we did together or how I made you feel. But I do believe that you’d like me to do all those things again.” His voice was low and rough. It, along with the heated words and the featherlight stroke of his thumb on the inside of her wrist, sent sensual shivers racing through her. Her nipples tightened into aching buds against the fabric of her bra, while heat pooled inside, melting her.
Desperate, determined, she struggled against the want. Blast him for making her feel this way.
“Again, so sorry, but I don’t care. Now, you’ll forgive me if I refuse to indulge your bloated ego. I need to get home.” Intending to usher him out, she turned toward the door, only to let out a growl of frustration when he kept his hold of her wrist. “Mind unshackling me?”
“I’ll let you go after you’ve proved just how indifferent you are.”
“What? Are you nuts? I don’t have to prove anything to you—though anybody else would recognize that I am proving my complete disinterest by asking you to leave my classroom. Do I honestly look like I want to throw myself at you?”
Rob didn’t need a second invitation. He let his eyes travel slowly over Jade, taking in her flushed cheeks, her heaving breasts, and the brilliant radiance of her wide green eyes. She was as beautiful as he remembered, and right now just as aroused as he. “Yeah, you do.”