She hadn't meant to allude to the fact that Bambi called her daughter "dumb" and "lazy". It was too late now, though. Gray had picked up on it and was gaping at her.
"What do you mean?" he demanded. "What has Bambi done now? Do you know something I don't?"
Eve cursed her motor-mouth, but it was too late to back down. "Oh, damn, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring that up until I was sure—"
"Bring what up?" Gray interrupted. "Is something going on that I should know?"
Eve put her wineglass down, afraid of spilling it. "I'm not sure, Gray," she said, then recounted what Tinker had told her while he and Bambi were in the office.
Gray listened carefully, then shook his head. "I think that's been taken care of." He sounded tired and discouraged. "Bambi did start scolding and taunting Tinker while her mother was living with them, and Margie put a stop to it. But Bambi may have started up again. She's so impatient with Tinker's learning difficulties. I'll check into it and see what's going on."
"I'm sorry," Eve said. "I didn't mean to tattle—"
"Tattle all you feel is necessary," he instructed her. "I need to know these things. I can't trust Bambi to act like an adult. She's so immature. It's like raising two children by myself. I need a lot of help."
Eve smiled. "You're doing just fine, so shall we try again tomorrow to get this act together? I assume you can handle Bambi?"
He chortled. "Don't be too sure, but I'll do my damndest. I think she understands from that little talk we had in the office that I won't put up with any more of her shenanigans. I'm going to count on you to let me know if Tinker shows any signs that things aren't going well at home."
Eve hated being put in that position, but still, it was part of a teacher's job to protect her students if she suspected they were being mistreated. Not that Bambi would do anything to injure her daughter physically, but she could damage Tinker's spirit with hurtful, unthinking remarks.
"Yes, Gray, I will," she assured him, then reached for her purse. "Now I'd better get home and do my laundry—"
She stopped, paralyzed with embarrassment as she remembered the last time she and Gray had discussed her laundry. She felt a hot wash of color suffuse her face and was tempted to hide it in her hands. No matter what she said, it would be the wrong thing.
When she got up the nerve to look at him, he appeared similarly flustered, but there was a longing in his glance that couldn't be missed. Was she sending him the same message? She had to be, because her feelings were too strong to hide.
For a moment they just looked at each other, their gazes tender and clinging. Then he reached out and put his hand on her cheek. His palm was warm and gentle, and he moved it slowly to run his long slender fingers through the unruly locks of her hair.
He was mesmerizing her; there was no other word for it. She couldn't break the magnetism of the passion their eyes generated when locked in this tender position. Nor did she want to.
She scooted closer to him, and his fingers stopped caressing her hair and moved to cup her chin and lift her face to his. She closed her eyes as he kissed first one lid and then the other.
"I've been so hungry for you," he whispered. "I've been in torment—wanting you, needing you, but terrified of scaring you away."
"You could never do that," she murmured as she inched her palms up his chest and clasped her hands behind his neck.
She felt him shiver. "Oooh, that feels so good," he said shakily. "How long do I have to wait until I can kiss you again?"
For answer, she captured his mouth and sucked lightly on his lower lip. Any resistance either of them may have planned drained away as their arms tightened and their mouths joined in a warm sensual surrender.
He cupped the sides of her breasts, and she raised her head so he could rain kisses on her throat. She let her hands roam over his shoulders and back.
"What is that scent you're wearing?" he murmured against her hair. "It seems familiar, but I can't quite place it."
She laughed softly and buried her face in the side of his neck. "You should be able to. It's called Apple."
"That's it," he said triumphantly, and hugged her. "Cinnamon apple pie! How could I have failed to recognize it? You'd better be careful with that stuff, sweetheart. Don't you know hot cinnamon apple pie a la mode drives men crazy? They'll do anything for a bite."
She worried his earlobe with her teeth. "Does that include you, too?"
"That includes me, especially," he growled. He fastened his mouth on her neck and sucked, gently at first, then more strongly.
The sexual pull all the way from Eve's neck to her insides nearly sent her into orbit, and she moaned and stiffened in his arms. She'd never experienced anything like this before.
He immediately released her. "What? Did I hurt you?"
"No, of course not," she said, and hoped her embarrassment didn't show. "It's just that I…" Well, hell, she might as well admit it. "I liked it."
He smiled, obviously pleased. "So did I," he whispered, then took her back in his arms, tilted her head to get the maximum enjoyment, and kissed her, long and tenderly and with a rising tide of ardor that left them both breathless. Then Gray broke it off and cradled her head on his shoulder.
Eve was surprised. She knew that he was aroused, and she'd admitted that she was, but he apparently had no intention of going any further in their lovemaking. She appreciated his consideration for her—but it was driving her crazy.
Gray was having a hard time controlling himself. His whole body was in turmoil. What in hell was the matter with him? All the time he'd been holding Eve, savoring her softness and basking in the sweet melody of that husky voice that could recite the alphabet and still be sexy, danger signals had been flashing in his mind. Wherever he touched her, it excited him even more. Her breasts were full and high, and he wanted to pull off her sweater and bra and stroke those breasts with his bare palms.
He was an idiot to keep putting himself through this. He knew better than to get close to her, let alone touch her, and still he couldn't resist. When they were apart, all he could think of was getting together again; when they were together, he couldn't keep his hands off her. All he knew was how much he wanted her—and not only in his bed.
That's what scared the hell out of him. If he wasn't careful, he was going to get in over his head with a girl whom he'd have sworn was too young, too immature, too vulnerable to appeal to him.
So why had he pursued her so vigorously? Why hadn't he simply taken no for an answer the first time she'd said it, and moved along?
Because he hadn't been able to deny himself the pleasure of her company, that's why. She'd smiled at him, and he was lost. Now he was about to make another mistake. He knew that's what it was, and he was also going into it with his eyes wide open.
He rubbed his cheek in her fragrant hair. "Have dinner with me," he murmured. "I can fix something here, or we can order out. That is, unless you'd rather go to a restaurant."
Eve didn't respond right away, and as he held his breath Gray was sure she was going to refuse his invitation. He'd been foolish to issue it. After he'd blathered on so endlessly the other day about how he'd never get seriously involved with another woman, why should she waste her time with him? She'd said she was off men because of an unhappy love affair, but what did she know? She was only twenty-four, for heaven's sake! Hardly out of her teens, and she probably wanted what most people want eventually—a spouse and children—whether or not she was willing to admit it.
She stirred, and his arms tightened involuntarily around her, unwilling to let her go. She surprised him, though, by just tipping back her head to look at him.
"If you don't mind, I'd rather we ate here," she said in that husky voice of hers, then once more cradled her head against his shoulder.
Gray couldn't believe his luck. Nor could he believe the trust she placed in him. Didn't she know that when a man was as aroused as he was right now, he couldn't always be trusted to keep his mind above his belt?
It would be so easy for him to excite her past caring about the consequences…
He mentally shook himself out of his forbidden musing. Damn! He didn't like the direction his thoughts were taking. He'd never do a thing like that to any woman, and certainly not one as innocent as this one seemed to be.
He took her by the shoulders and tenderly put her away from him. She blinked, as if coming out of a trance. "Good. I was hoping you'd say that. I've got a freezer full of dinners. Why don't you come to the kitchen with me, and we'll select the ones we want to thaw."
He chose fried chicken, she decided on beef Stroganoff; he tossed a salad, while she fixed hot garlic buttered French bread. They kept the conversation light, but he felt self-conscious and could see that she did, too.
Dessert was ice cream and cookies, and afterward Eve cleared the table, while Gray stacked the dishwasher and worried about what was going to happen next. Would Eve insist on leaving right away, or would she stay for the evening? If she stayed, would he be able to carry on an intelligent conversation with her and keep his hands to himself?
Gray started the dishwasher, then turned to Eve. "Do you mind if I switch on the television for a few minutes? It's time for the evening news, and I'd like to catch the weather forecast. See if anything's changed since noon."
She smiled. "By all means, go ahead," she said. "I have to leave anyway—"
He felt as if he'd been punched, even though just moments ago he'd been uneasy about the possibility that she might stay. "No, please, don't! We'll forget all about the weather forecast-—"
"That's not it, Gray," she said. "I—I just don't feel it's a good idea for us to spend any more time alone together tonight…"
He had to agree with her on that, but still he couldn't just give in and let her walk away. He needed her in his house, in his arms.
"We can sit clear across the room from each other if you prefer," he offered, but she shook her head.
"I'm sorry, but I really do have to get home. If you still want me to tutor your daughter, I'll be back tomorrow at three. And Gray, I—I'd rather you didn't stay around."
He frowned, but she continued. "I know I said you could, but now I'm afraid it would be too distracting. At least, until we get better acquainted."
Gray nearly choked. How much better acquainted could they get?
Well, he knew the answer to that, and he had to admit that she had a point. It was time to back off again and try to put their relationship into perspective.
Chapter Six
The rest of the week moved along smoothly. At first Tinker was reluctant to even try the assignments Eve had chosen for her, but when Eve got down on the floor with her, and they did the lessons together at Tinker's level, it became more like a game. Tinker actually enjoyed it and was eager to learn.
Eve started her off on first-grade material, even though the child had mastered that pretty well over the years. Eve wanted her to get the feel of success, instead of the constant failure she'd been unable to escape as she'd trailed through second and third grades.
As for Gray, she saw little of him. He would greet her when she arrived, then excuse himself and go to his office at the back of the house, leaving the front rooms for Eve and Tinker to use.
When it was time for her to leave, he was there to thank her and tell her goodbye. He always seemed cheerful but reserved, and she was torn between relief and disappointment. They both knew they couldn't spend much time together without getting intimately involved, but their hormones raged for a touch, a kiss, a night of passion.
On Friday, as Eve was gathering her lesson material together to put in her briefcase, Gray surprised her by coming out of his office a few minutes earlier than usual.
"Tinker," he said, "why don't you go back to the office and watch TV for a few minutes. I want to talk to Ms. Costopoulos."
Eve blinked. Now what? He'd only spoken to her to say hello and goodbye all week, and now he was sending Tinker out of the room so he could talk to her privately. Was he displeased with her tutoring?
Tinker took it in stride. "Okay, Dad. Can I watch Beauty and the Beast again?"
Gray grimaced playfully. "Yes, you may, but that tape must be about worn out by now."
"It was, but Grandma and Grandpa sent me a new one for Christmas, remember?" She turned and hurried down the hall.
Eve looked at Gray and smiled. "I gather she's well versed in fairy tales," she said softly.
He didn't comment, but held out his arms. "Come here." His voice quivered and his eyes begged. "I can't wait any longer to hold you. It seems like it's been forever."
She closed her eyes and breathed a little prayer of thanks. He was as eager for her as she was for him! She moved forward and his arms clasped her tightly, while hers fastened around his waist. She tipped her face up to meet his, and his mouth claimed hers, eager and hot.
He tasted her lips, her tongue, her throat, and the sensuous lobes of her ears. Wherever his mouth touched her, it raised her temperature another notch, until she found it almost impossible to remember they were not alone in the house.
With supreme effort, she pushed tentatively against his shoulders. "Gray, don't forget Tinker—"
He moaned quietly. "I won't, sweetheart. I've had over eight years of subconsciously listening for her in the middle of the night, or when she's sick, or getting into mischief. It's become second nature for me now…"
His words trailed off and once again he kissed her, quick and hard. "But you're right," he continued once he'd caught his breath. "This time I came awfully close to getting lost in the sweetness and fire of you."
He hugged her and buried his face in the side of her neck. "Eve," he said raggedly, "spend the weekend with me. It's Bambi's turn to have Tinker. We could go to Deadwood tomorrow, do a little sightseeing, shopping, play a few slot machines. If you haven't seen the Passion Play recently, we could go to Spearfish in the evening and take it in."
What was he suggesting? His agenda was too seductive to fit in with their vows of not letting their association go any further than a teacher-parent relationship. He'd said he wanted to spend the weekend with her, not just the next day. She might be inexperienced, but she wasn't stupid.
He wanted to take her to Deadwood and spend the next two days making love with her in one of those quaint remodeled historic hotels. That's what she wanted, too. Oh, how she wanted it—so bad that she had to clench her jaw to keep from agreeing immediately without a thought to the consequences.
She took a deep breath and prayed for strength. "Oh, Gray, I—that is we…"
He massaged her back lightly. "Honey, we won't do anything you don't want to. There are no strings attached. I won't pretend that I don't want to spend the night with you, but not if you don't want it, too. I'll bring you home, or we can get separate rooms—"
She put her hand over his mouth and shook her head. "It's not that I don't want to spend the night with you. I want that more than anything. But what became of all our good intentions about not getting intimately involved? It's really a bad idea for a teacher to get entangled in a romantic relationship with the father of one of her pupils. Unless they're engaged to be married. It can get awfully messy."
He kissed the palm that covered his mouth. "It doesn't need to. There's nothing wrong with loving each other. Besides, it's nobody else's business what we're doing, as long as we're discreet and not outraging public decency."
She giggled. "Sounds interesting. Maybe you could explain it to me sometime?"
He bit her neck tenderly. "I'd be even happier to show you," he whispered into her ear.
Delicious as this conversation was, it was getting out of hand. It was time to make a decision. "Why don't we plan to spend tomorrow at Deadwood and see where that takes us?"
She knew that was just a decision to make a decision, and it was risky, as well. It encouraged them both to think they'd be better able to resist temptation when the time came. But Eve knew that thinking about it longer only made it harde
r to resist, not easier. And it wouldn't make it any less of a mistake if they let their passion overcome their good sense.
He hugged her closer. "That's fine with me. We'll get an early start and stop for breakfast on the way. Okay?"
"Mmm, more than okay," she said, and snuggled into his embrace for just a minute before pulling away from him. "Now, I really do have to leave." She went back to shoving papers and books into her briefcase. "What time will you pick me up in the morning?"
The following day, Eve was up at the crack of dawn, too excited to sleep any longer. Not because she was eager to see historic Deadwood, the gold-rush town nestled high in a gulch in the Black Hills of South Dakota. She'd been there many times. It was only a short drive from Rapid City, and she'd been going there all her life—sometimes with her parents, sometimes on school trips, and sometimes with friends. She never tired of the exciting view of the "real" Old West as it had been painstakingly reconstructed from an ancient ghost town. But this time she'd be spending the whole day, and maybe more, with Gray, and it wouldn't make any difference where they went as long as they were together.
She dressed warmly in layers: boots, jeans, a T-shirt under a sweatshirt, and a quilted jacket with a colorful knitted stretch hat. It could be pretty chilly up there this time of the year. Deadwood was quite a bit higher than Rapid City: 4,500 feet to Rapid City's 3,200. She could shed some of the outer layers during the day, but it was sure to be cold if they went to Spearfish to see the Passion Play, the Christian dramatization of the reenactment of the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. That was an outdoor evening event, and the temperature was always frigid.
As she was packing her backpack, it occurred to her that she might want her toothbrush, and obviously it was of little use without toothpaste. She dropped the two articles in the bag and was starting to zip it closed when she thought of her makeup. She had a tube of lipstick in her jacket pocket, but they'd be gone all day, and she'd no doubt want to touch up her powder, blusher and mascara at times.
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