“Victoria, we’ve talked about this. I might get married someday, a long time from now, but it’s not going to happen anytime soon. Please don’t try to make it happen.”
She slouched down in her seat, scowling. “’Kay.”
“I have something to tell you,” he began. “I asked a very nice lady to come to our house on Valentine’s Day and have dinner with us. Just to be friendly.” And possibly to kiss her senseless after you go to bed.
“You did? Who? Do I know her?”
“Principal Morgan. Is that okay with you?”
“I like her! She told me I was special. And smart. She talked to Mrs. Frost about me and now I get to read to the kindergarten classes sometimes.”
He already knew about that. The first time it had happened had been last Friday, and Vicki had come home brimming with excitement and doubled self-esteem. Even if he wasn’t crazy about Shay on a personal level, as a parent, he’d be forever grateful that she’d come to the school. Even the lecture she’d given him the first time they’d met had turned out to be in his daughter’s best interests.
“I can’t believe Principal Morgan is coming over. That’s so cool!”
“Cool enough that you’ll clean your room before she visits?”
“Do I have to clean all of it?”
“I’ll put the stuffed animals back up on the shelf,” he offered, knowing it was too high for her to reach without standing on tiptoe atop her bed. Her favorite stuffed animals, like Pinky, held a place of honor on the bed, but Mark had built a shelf that ran the entire length of the wall for her others. “I’ll shelve your books, too. But everything else is your responsibility. Deal?”
“Deal!” She looked out the window, whistling tunelessly. It was a recently learned talent, and she’d taken to whistling all the time. But then she stopped to announce, “I can’t wait to tell Tessa Principal Morgan is coming to my house.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Bug.” Although Shay hadn’t expressly forbidden him from telling anyone about their dinner date, Mark knew she’d rather keep it under the social radar.
But he didn’t want to encourage his daughter to lie to anyone about it, either. “If you start telling kids at school that Principal Morgan is having dinner with us, they might be sad that she isn’t coming to their house, too.”
“Like bragging? Oh. I don’t want Tessa to feel bad.” She fell silent. “Daddy…”
“Yes?” He braced himself in case there were any other ethical hurdles he needed to clear.
“Principal Morgan’s eating dinner with us?”
“Right.” What was she trying to clarify? “Next Monday.”
“You should ask Aunt Dee to come help you cook. That way Principal Morgan will want to come back.”
Chapter Eleven
In hindsight, Mark wondered if perhaps he shouldn’t have taken his daughter’s advice and enlisted Dee’s assistance. If all else fails, we can always order a pizza.
Shay peered at him from over top a glass of red wine, looking hard like she was trying not to smile, lest he take offense. She and Vicki were both seated at the kitchen table, and it was difficult to imagine a prettier tableau. Vicki had wanted to dress up for their guest. She was wearing a pink church dress, her white tights printed with red hearts. She’d accessorized with a headband that featured two more red hearts, sparkly ones, atop springs. Shay had dressed fairly casually in black jeans and a V-neck navy sweater. The soft sweater clung to her curves in a way that made him burn more than the entrée had.
“How’s it going over there?” Shay ventured.
If she liked mashed potatoes the consistency of glue, then things were going great. Otherwise…
“Daddy, do you want me to get the pizza magnet off the fridge?” Vicki volunteered. “I could bring you the phone, too.”
He sighed, wondering what the wait time was for delivery. “That’s not really what I had in mind for tonight.”
Inspired by how much Shay had enjoyed the food at the barbecue house, he’d decided to do barbecue pork ribs. In the spring or summer, he would have fixed them on the grill outside. Given this evening’s snow flurries, he’d opted to flame-broil the ribs beneath the oven instead. He’d put Vicki in charge of being “hostess,” a role she’d tackled with delight and self-importance, while he cooked. But he’d gotten distracted when he was called in to offer an impartial ruling on the ladies’ Uno game; Vicki had long since lost the original box with the rules and the card deck was simply banded together with one of her ponytail holders.
Although Vicki had been known to get upset when her cousin Bobby played cards like “skip” or “draw two” against her, when Shay used the same tactics, Vicki giggled and swore good-natured vengeance. Conversation devolved from playful threats to tickling and the ribs had charred, forgotten.
Still, Mark had been trying to convince himself that if he scraped off some of the black on the outermost part of the ribs, the meat beneath might still be salvageable. That had been before his potatoes gummed up so unappetizingly. Currently, the high point of the meal was looking to be a sweet corn and lima bean succotash.
He sighed. “Go ahead and get me the phone, Bug. The magnet, too.” It was a testament to either his optimism or his blind stubbornness that he didn’t just program the pizza place’s number into the house phone. Grabbing his own wineglass, he asked Shay, “What do you like on your pizza?”
SHAY WHISTLED. “Well, this is impressive.”
Holding the woman’s hand as they surveyed the table together, Vicki nodded happily. “Daddy does dessert good. And dessert’s the most important part!”
Mark rocked back on his heels, glad he’d succeeded in this at least. Not that dinner had been a total disaster. He’d had a blast, not just talking to Shay, which he always enjoyed, but watching her interact with his daughter. After pizza, he’d sent the girls into the living room while he cleared away the cardboard boxes and dishes. Vicki had reenacted the ballet routine from her holiday minirecital and given Shay a preview of April’s big number.
Meanwhile, Mark had pulled out a carton of strawberries he’d washed earlier in the day, sliced some bananas, tore half of an angel food cake into bite-size chunks and dumped a bag of large marshmallows into a heart-shaped bowl. Finally, he’d set up a top-of-the-line camping stove—one that was ultra clean burning and safer than propane—on the table to heat chocolate.
“Chocolate fondue,” he said. He handed each female a skewer and winked at Shay. “We’re very fancy here.”
“Well, duh. Hence the headgear.” She pointed at the tiara she now wore. When she’d told Vicki during dinner how much she liked the flashy Valentine headband, Vicki had decided their guest needed something equally dazzling. So the principal of Woodside sat at his kitchen table in her stocking feet and a glittering rhinestone crown.
They ate with enthusiasm and when Mark once again refused to let his date help clean the kitchen, Shay instead offered to help Vicki get ready for bed.
“Do I hafta?” The little girl made a face, even though Mark knew that after the way she’d been racing around all night to show off her every favorite book, toy and stuffed animal, she’d probably be asleep in minutes.
Before Mark could even answer, Shay straightened in her chair, adopting the same tone he imagined she used when admonishing students not to run in the halls or to use their indoor voices in the lunchroom. “Well, it is a school night, young lady.”
“Okay.” Vicki heaved a sigh, then brightened, finding the silver lining. “Least I don’t hafta clean up. We got chocolate everywhere.”
Mark laughed. “We?”
His daughter sent him a sheepish look from beneath her lashes. “Sorry.”
“I was going to get a couple of logs out of the garage for the fireplace,” Mark told Shay. “Want me to make some coffee, too?”
“Sounds nice,” she agreed, her slow smile making his heart thump double-time against his ribs.
It was a school
night, but, much to his pleasure, Shay didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave. As much as Mark had enjoyed watching his daughter interact with their guest, he was looking forward to being alone with Shay.
Vicki climbed down from her chair and held her hand out to Shay. “Wanna help me pick out my pj’s?”
“Hmm…what say we wash those hands first, sticky fingers?” Shay went to the sink and gave Vicki the liquid soap that was tough to reach.
“Daddy says I’m not supposed to tell anyone at school about this,” Vicki announced as she rubbed her fingers together beneath the stream of water.
“He did?” Shay looked unsure what to do with this news.
“It’s okay,” Vicki said. “It’s like a secret. A good secret. But I can still hug you at school, right?”
“Always.” As if to prove her point, Shay swept the little girl into her arms. Vicki’s hands were clean, but her face was another story. Shay swiped a damp paper towel over her face. “There, beautiful again. Don’t you think so, Daddy?” She angled her body so that she was holding Vicki toward him.
Mark’s throat closed, emotion making it impossible to breathe. The sight of his daughter, balanced on Shay’s hip and snuggled against her, was wrenchingly poignant. It should have been comical, those sparkly red hearts sticking out of Vicki’s mass of curls and Shay standing there with a too-small tiara perched on her head.
I could love this woman.
“Daddy?” Vicki seemed piqued that he’d yet to validate her fresh-faced gorgeousness. “You look funny.”
“Don’t worry,” he said absently. “I’m all right.”
And he was, he realized. He’d had one of those moments of nearly paralyzing awe—like a time he’d seen a perfect rainbow fill the entire sky or went jogging in the woods and came within inches of a doe and her fawn. But the emotion welling in him wasn’t sadness. Or fear. Or guilt. He’d come face-to-face with just how deep his feelings ran for Shay—how deep they could become—and his response was sheer joy. Mixed in with a touch of old-fashioned nerves.
Dee, Cade, Vicki—they’d all asked variations of the same question, wanting to know if he thought he would ever be part of a serious relationship again. And he’d demurred with “maybe,” “someday,” or a plain, “I don’t know.” For the first time, his answer, even if no one else got to hear it, was God, I hope so.
SHAY STOOD IN THE DOORWAY watching as Mark tucked in his daughter. He kissed Vicki’s cheek and wished her sweet dreams.
“Pinky, too,” she mumbled drowsily, proffering a stuffed pony.
Mark obligingly kissed the pony on the white blaze that ran down its face, then turned to leave.
“Wait.” Vicki propped herself up on her elbows, but it wasn’t her father she was addressing. “Principal Morgan, do I have to still call you Principal Morgan?”
Shay hadn’t been expecting the question. “What did you want to call me?”
“Ms. Shay? Like I do with Ms. Charlotte and our other friends?”
“All right, but not at school. At school, I’m still Principal Morgan. You can call me Shay other times, like tonight.”
“Does that mean you’re coming back to our house?” Vicki asked shrewdly.
Shay exchanged glances with Mark, thought about what a change it was from spending a quiet evening alone to laughing through three hours with the two of them. Eating together and teasing each other and feeling even the tiniest bit maternal as she’d given Vicki a pep talk about overcoming stage fright for her big ballet recital and wiped smudges of chocolate off the girl’s face. “Um, yeah, I guess I am…if that’s okay with you and your dad.”
In response, Vicki beamed a smile brighter than her night-light.
For over a week, Shay had been looking forward to kissing Mark again, but once they were back in the living room, with only the crackling fire for company, she felt unaccountably shy. She sipped the last of her merlot, wondering if the effects of their last kiss had been magnified because it was their first, because she hadn’t expected it. Would he once again cause her toes to curl, make her body melt with sensual need?
He sat next to her on the couch, placing his arm on the backrest but not quite touching her. “Coffee’s brewing. Hope you weren’t in a hurry?”
She shook her head, humming a few notes of an old song, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” How could driving home in the snow possibly compare to sharing a glass of rich, mellow wine with an incredibly good-looking guy who’d just cooked for her. Well, sort of.
She grinned, angling toward him, resting her head against his arm. “Dinner was—”
“Let’s never speak of it.”
“All right, then. Can I at least tell you that dessert was spectacular? I’ve always had a raging sweet tooth.”
“Good to know for gift-giving occasions.” He, too, had leaned in, his head close to hers. “When’s your birthday? I seem to recall you mentioning that we were both Aries. At the hospital? Or did I imagine that after they pumped me full of painkiller?”
“March 29. My mom’s got a family dinner all planned.” And wouldn’t Pamela Morgan do cartwheels of joy if her daughter invited Mark and his adorable daughter? “Does Vicki have any grandparents living?” She’d only really heard Mark mention Vicki’s aunt.
“No. Jess and Dee lost their parents in a car crash the first year we were married. Neither of them got to see Vicki born. My dad died the week before we learned Jess was pregnant.” It had been such a bittersweet time for the family. “Victor Hathaway. Vicki’s named for him. Mom moved into the Braeden assisted-living senior community and died a couple of years later, in her sleep. She used to love when we brought—” He straightened suddenly. “You gave me a great idea.”
“Happy to help,” Shay said, baffled. She had no idea what he was talking about.
“I should call the senior community director, see if the Campside Girls could come sing or even play Uno. A lot of the residents are healthy and active, they’re just lonely.” He sobered, looking as if he had firsthand sympathy with their plight. “A visit from some cheerful little girls might be a real day brightener. And it might also be nice for kids like Vicki who don’t have grandparents, or at least not near enough to visit on a regular basis.”
“Careful,” Shay teased. “Vicki might post a notice at the home soliciting grandparents.”
“Her latest is that she wants a sister.”
“Oh.” Shay wasn’t sure what to say to that. Technically, Vicki’s dreams for the future had nothing to do with her, yet…
“You have that nervous look again,” Mark observed. “The same one you had when Vicki asked if she still has to call you Principal Morgan. Were you afraid she was going to ask if she could start calling you mom?”
“It crossed my mind,” Shay admitted. “Is it all right that I told her I’d be coming back? Maybe I was over-stepping with that assumption.”
He tried to take both her hands in his, the action slightly hampered by the wrist-to-fingertip brace he still wore. “Come back as often as you like. We want you here.” He gave her a crooked grin that managed to be both boyish and sexy. “Especially me.”
Shay leaned forward, kissing him gently. It wasn’t the brazen, all-out carnal assault of last time. But the softer slow burn was just as effective. He ran his good hand lightly up her back, causing shivers of sensation along her spine. He nipped at her lower lip and drew it between his own, kissing her lazily. Thoroughly. She felt like she was the chocolate fondue, her insides pooling into something warm and sweet. It was very arousing to be in the arms of a man who seemed so willing to take his time.
She grinned against his lips. “You taste like red wine.”
“Is that a problem?” he asked. He moved away from her mouth, trailing kisses up the side of her neck.
“No, it’s just…mmm.” She closed her eyes, tilting her head and allowing him better access. “In my mind, you’ll always taste like peppermint. Like the first time you kissed me.”
He angle
d back just long enough to meet her eyes. “I think I have some peppermints around here if you want to re-create the moment.”
She pulled him to her. “You’re doing just fine without them.”
SHAY’S HIGH-HEELED SHOES clicked loudly on the hard floor, echoing through the fourth-grade hall, but she felt as if she were walking on clouds as she returned to her office. It had been late when she’d left Mark’s last night—they’d necked in front of his fireplace for hours like a couple of teenagers, then he’d insisted on taking the keys to her car and warming it up for her. He’d also insisted she text him when she got home so that he’d know she’d arrived safely. She’d worried on the drive that she might be sluggish and groggy today.
Quite the contrary.
She’d rolled out of bed with a smile on her face, so enchanted with the world that she’d stopped on her way to the school to buy a couple of doughnuts for Roberta. The secretary had regarded the white bakery bag suspiciously, as if she expected ticking from within, but she’d forced herself to say thank you. Even slow progress was progress.
As she reentered the administrative office suite, she made a point of smiling at the secretary.
Roberta pointed to the row of visitor chairs against the wall. “Mrs. Dubois to see you.”
Shay sighed inwardly. Kate Dubois was early. But no matter. Shay knew what the woman wanted and already knew how this meeting would go—might as well get it over with. “Good morning, Mrs. Dubois. If you’ll follow me, please?”
The woman nodded tersely and stood, carrying with her a large manila folder so full that papers were spilling out. Shay picked up a piece of paper printed with testing scores and handed it back. No doubt all the documents in the folder were evidence of Stefan Dubois’s six-year-old genius. Shay had seen his grades and testing scores; they did nothing to reverse budget cuts and district policy.
His Valentine Surprise Page 14