Hot Silver Nights: Silver Fox Romance Collection

by Ainsley Booth

  “You’re quite the hero around here,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the next.

  “Hero?” he asked, frowning. “Hardly.”

  “But you saved her life, that student of yours.” Come to think of it, he did seem to be good at that role. Saving others. Being there like he’d been for her. He shook his head, refusing to accept the accolade and his eyes scanned over her lightly. “You look, you look….”

  “Older,” she replied, suddenly self-conscious of herself. She touched her hand to her hair.

  “Older, yes, but you look so different, so...”

  “Grown up?” She smiled. “I was only eighteen then, and people usually change over the time.”

  Her emotions surprised her. She had expected to be annoyed at him because she’d been angry with him for so long, but instead she felt a sense of ease. She was almost happy to see him, and she wasn’t sure where the anger had gone. Because he’d already been on TV, the way he looked was no surprise to her and being this close to him in person further illustrated that the years had been kind to him. He was still as sinfully good-looking as ever; not what one would expect from a college professor. She wondered if his students thought the same of him, whether they were as mesmerized now as the girls in her class had been then. A sudden twinge of jealousy coursed through her, the emotion puzzling her with its immediacy and suddenness.

  “I never meant to startle you,” he said. “I was driving too fast when I came around the corner.”

  “It’s okay.” She said, shrugging her shoulders as she stared down at the ground in a bid to avoid gazing directly at him.

  “So, do you live here?”

  “Yes.”

  “I moved here a couple of months ago.”

  From Nebraska, she assumed. Her mind buzzed with questions but she stopped herself from asking them because she didn’t want him to know that she needed answers; that for the longest time she’d been wondering what the hell had happened to him. It wouldn’t be cool to acknowledge that she was pissed off with him, or to show that she cared. Whatever it was that had happened between them, had taken place a long time ago. It was in her past, and her past was something she wanted to forget.

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m a management consultant,” she replied. “With Delaney’s.”

  “I know,” he said. “They’re based downtown, if I recall. You ended up with a career crunching numbers?”

  “I did.”

  They stood in an awkward silence for a few more seconds. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “You seem uncomfortable.”

  “I never expected to see you again.”

  “I was hoping I would see you again.”

  Really?

  He had never called, or emailed, or written to her and now he was admitting that he’d hoped they’d meet again?

  She wasn’t going to fall for that again.

  She strengthened her grip around her grocery bag. “It’s been good to see you but I should go.”

  “Are you going?” He sounded disappointed, at least, she thought he did.

  “I’m in a rush.”

  “Stay a minute, please, Meg.” He almost reached out to take her arm but moved his hand away before it touched her.

  Stay a minute for what?

  “Are you mad at me?” He asked, as if it were slowly dawning on him.

  “Mad?” She asked, knowing she’d been busted and trying hard not to make it so obvious. “I’m not mad.” She tried to casually brush off the remark and hoped that this was how he heard it. “A note would have been nice,” she said, swallowing, and forcing a smile. “A simple little note to let me know that you were leaving.”

  He cleared his throat. Masking the guilt? She wondered. “I know. I understand your anger, but I’m really happy that we’ve met again.”

  “Are you still teaching math?” She was curious to know, all of a sudden.

  “Applied mathematics and dynamical systems, neural and behavioural modelling, neuromorphic technology—to be precise.” He’d lost her at applied mathematics. The man had the face of a movie star, the eyes of a sinner and the body of an athlete. And brains, too. Some people had all the luck, as Arla would say. “Isn’t that a big jump from being a high-school teacher? Being a college professor, I mean.”

  “I went back to college and got more qualifications.”

  “It feels strange, that you’re a professor now.”

  “I’ll tell you what feels strange,” he said. “To have moved to the same town as you.”

  He could say that again. It was one of the oddest things to happen to her in a long time. She’d gone years without hearing his name mentioned and then in the last few weeks he’d shown up on TV and now here. In her life.

  She lowered her head, sensing an undercurrent to the polite outer façade of their conversation. All the things he didn’t say, things, she sensed, which hovered beneath the surface.

  “What about things at home?” he asked, “Did things work out, with your mom?

  As if he cared. “It all worked out.” She peered at her watch. “I really must go,” she said, suddenly aware of the sound of traffic in the distance, and the muted background sounds of people talking as they walked past. Even now, being with Lance Turner had the effect of tuning out everything around her, making it seem as if it were only the two of them.

  “Goodbye, Lance.”

  “That’s it?” he asked, looking exasperated and losing his laid back air. “Goodbye?”

  “What did you expect? A hug and a kiss?” It had taken her a long time to put his ghost to bed and she didn’t want to resurrect anything now.

  “I had no idea you would be so bitter.”

  “You leave town without saying anything, and you expect me to be over the moon when you turn up ten years later?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s getting late. I need to go.” She started to move away. “’Bye,” she forced the word out, so fraught with sudden anger was she.

  “’Bye, Meg.”

  She paused, only for the tiniest of seconds and hoped he didn’t notice it. Don’t call me Meg.

  Chapter 8

  He walked back to his car with heavy thoughts weighing him down.

  It wasn’t the reaction he expected to have towards her, and yet his heart was racing. What was it he felt? Was it excitement? Or a gnawing unease? When he’d first clapped his eyes on her, he’d been overjoyed to see her. But now that they’d spoken, he was left with the distinct notion that she harbored resentment towards him.

  When he thought back to that time in his life, it had been a turning point. He’d barely been at Overton High School for two years when his concern for a bright student led him down a path where he had to question what he was doing. To the casual observer it would have been nothing. To the Principal, and others, the other girls and Meghan’s boyfriend, it became something else. It was complicated, the situation he’d found himself in and though he had never intentionally crossed any line, there were many times he had wondered whether he ought to pare back his friendship.

  He got back into his car and sat there, unable to drive off because his mind was a tangled web of all his past with Meghan Summers—the girl he never fully expected to see again. Back then, after he’d left, he’d always thought about the day when he might eventually run into her and he had often wondered what he might say. A memory of the early days floated into his mind; specifically, the day when Meghan Summers had first come to his attention. It was that time he’d told her off in class, when she’d been talking too much, and he realized later that the fault lay with her friend, the one who talked too much and whose name he couldn’t now remember. The friend was the one who’d been talking, not Meghan. After that he’d started asking her to collect the papers at the end of class and one day when she had handed him back the papers, he’d asked her if she did extra math lessons outside of class. She hadn’t, she told him, and he’d commended her on her excellent grasp
of the subject. She’d smiled at him, then, but it wasn’t like when the other girls smiled. There was no flick of her hair, no extended staring. The other girls flirted like mad and were immature and coquettish. Meghan Summers hadn’t batted an eyelid. She’d neither looked at him, nor shown him any interest. But something happened that day, nothing major that anyone would see or allude to, nothing that he could turn into words, but there it was, a genuine interest, a passing attraction. A slight glance, before she turned away.

  He started his car. The girl she used to be had disappeared. She was still beautiful but the natural softness had gone and she now had a hardness about her that hadn’t been there before.

  As happy as he had been to see her, she obviously didn’t feel the same. He couldn’t blame her. It had been cruel, what he’d done; leaving town the way he had and there had been many times, early on that he had wanted to reach out to her, to see how she was but he’d talked himself out of it at every turn.

  She would be better off without him. What had it been, what they’d had? Him a teacher, her a student. They hadn’t done anything wrong, he hadn’t crossed the line.

  Almost, but not quite.

  The temptation had been strong, and if he’d hung around, he wasn’t sure where it might have lead. But meeting her now? It was like a second chance. At least it was for him.

  Chapter 9

  She was in the town library near her home, in the science section, when he showed up. “Meghan?”

  She turned around, and her heart did that crazy little explosive thing again, like last time, as if a small fizzy ball had been popped inside her chest. “Mr. Turner?”

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, “It’s past eight.”

  “Studying for my exams.”

  He looked quietly surprised. “In the library?”

  “It’s quiet here.” She could tell from the way he watched her that he had more questions. “Anything I can help you with?” he offered.

  “I’m revising science, actually.”

  “Then I definitely can’t help you.”

  They both laughed a little. He hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans. “You get the math,” he said. “Your understanding of the concepts is solid. You’ll be okay.” His voice was softer than usual, different than what it was in the classroom, and more than that, his comforting words were just what she needed.

  And that was how it had begun. She would go to the library a few times a week, and sometimes she would see him there.

  The struggle was real, to hold the family together when her father had taken more of an interest in one of his coworkers than was healthy, when her mother had fallen apart, when her home life imploded, when she had no choice but to be there for her siblings, the struggle was very real indeed.

  It all happened during that final year at school. Her life had been mired in turmoil, and there had been nobody she could turn to, not even her boyfriend. Shaun had become distant.

  Arla knew of her problems at home and had told her to come and stay with her but Meghan couldn’t abandon her siblings the way her mother had. She didn’t tell Lance anything about her personal situation; she didn’t need or want to. He wouldn’t stay for long and he didn’t always turn up but she would see him more often than not. In time, she began to expect it and look forward to it because when life seemed bleak, seeing Lance Turner had been the thing that lifted her. In the confines of the library, when it was just the two of them, she began to see him more as a friend, than a teacher. Her easy demeanor around him rippled over into the classroom and even Arla began to question her. Shaun also sensed the change. Even when she was with him, her mind was on Lance Turner.

  Chapter 10

  Sifting through the debris of her feelings for Lance Turner was like walking on the bottom of a river and messing up the sediment on the riverbed. It upset the buried past and brought up things that were better left untouched. Ever since he’d burst back into her life, Meghan found herself thinking about him more than she wanted to.

  She blamed Arla. It had been Arla’s fault in that Math lesson all those years ago when her friend had knocked the pencil shavings all over her notes. If Meghan hadn’t gotten angry, Mr. Turner wouldn’t have heard the commotion and he wouldn’t have gotten annoyed, and he wouldn’t have told her off for talking, even when it wasn’t her fault. And she wouldn’t have had to stay behind, or had to collect the homework papers at the end of the lesson to return to him when everyone else had left. And he wouldn’t have apologized to her, and she wouldn’t have noticed the blue of his eyes, or the scar along his jaw. He wouldn’t have taken an interest in her grades, and wouldn’t have cared that they’d slipped so much, and they might never have met at the library all those times, or gone out that one time to have donuts. And the lines between him being her teacher and becoming a friend wouldn’t have blurred. And she would never have turned to him in her hour of need.

  And she would never have gone to his apartment that night.

  She blamed Arla for all of it, and, desperate to talk to her friend about it, she called her. Having a conversation with Arla was like listening to white noise, soothing and forgettable—Arla always talked a lot and Meghan needed that sound now more than ever.

  “I saw Lance Turner.”

  “Who hasn’t?” Arla laughed. “You couldn’t avoid the man if you tried. He’s everywhere.”

  “I mean I ran into him, in person, and we talked.” The phone fell silent and she shifted her weight, sinking lower down on the couch and making herself more comfortable.

  “You ran into him?”

  “He was speeding at a crossing I was in, and he made me jump. My things fell out—”

  “Your boobs?”

  “My groceries.” Meghan rolled her eyes. What planet was her friend on? “I dropped my bag and my groceries fell out and he got out of the car to help me.”

  “He got out of his car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Getouttahere!”

  “He gets out and walks towards me, says my name, I look up and he’s staring right at me. I swear it was like being back in the classroom.”

  “He never stared at any of us like that,” said Arla with a sullen look on her face.

  “I walked away.”

  “You walked off and left him?”

  “What was I supposed to do? I was at a crossing.”

  “Right. But he came looking for you anyway?”

  “He didn’t have to go very far.”

  “That is so romantic!”

  “You’d think a bag of chips was romantic,” Meghan told her.

  “Talking of chips, wait up.”

  Now what? Meghan frowned. She heard the noise of wood scraping and then a rustle of something she couldn’t quite make out. “Shoot,” said Arla, returning.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’ve opened a bag of chips. Go on. Tell me more.”

  “We got talking, and I asked him about his injury and he wanted to know how I was etcetera, etcetera.” She heard more munching.

  “Is he as gorgeous in real life as he looks in the papers?”

  “He—” She couldn’t bring herself to admit to it. “He doesn’t look that different to when we last saw him.”

  “Go away!”

  “Yeah, he looks pretty much the same, he’s got a few wrinkles and more silver grays but he’s still in the same shape,” said Meghan, softly.

  Arla made a noise that signaled approval. “Bright blue eyes?”

  “They didn’t look so bright this time.”

  “Single?”

  “How should I know? We didn’t talk about any of that stuff.”

  “This could be your chance to get together with him.”

  “Are you crazy?” Meghan squawked. “I don’t think of him like that anymore.” The idea was plain ludicrous, just like Arla. But the truth was, Meghan couldn’t stop thinking about him even though she knew her family wouldn’t be too pleased if ever, God forbid, sh
e even considered going down that route. Her mind had played tricks these last few weeks, her imagination had wandered, and in her daydreams she pictured Lance being back in her life.

  “Why not? You always said—”

  “I was a stupid 18 year old then. I didn’t know what I was saying.” She regretted pouring her heart out to Arla. Consumed by her teenage misery, she’d blurted out her fragile dreams of infatuation with him.

  “But you’re not in school anymore and you’re older now and you said yourself you would—”

  “I said a lot of things a long time ago.” She’d been a big mess of nerves when the news came. News of Mr. Turner having left the school spread faster than rumors about Tillie Collins’ sexual exploits. It had left Meghan devastated.

  For a whole week following this recent encounter with him, she ran the scene over in her mind almost daily. The man had left such an indelible impression on her during one of the most traumatic times in her life that his sudden reappearance affected her far more than she would ever admit.

  He looked so good. He had always been a looker, but as a young girl, she hadn’t noticed it as much as Arla and the others like Tillie Collins, the class gossip and Superbitch, the one who’d helped spread the lies when it all came to a head. All of the others constantly fawned over Mr. Turner but not Meghan. She’d only seen him properly when he started to become concerned over her falling grades. At first she hadn’t wanted to tell him of the arguments at home and the way it upset Jenson and Erica who were only eleven and twelve at the time. It was a horrible time in her life and it had all come to a head that one night.

  She pushed the thought away. She’d brought work home, reports and data to collate and present when she went away on business in a few weeks’ time. There was no point letting Lance Turner into her head, messing things up for her again.

  Chapter 11