He stared at her wide-eyed and barely blinked. But then his stomach tightened, and he shivered as a kaleidoscope of images rolled through his memory bringing a nightmare to life. A white bathing suit. A turbulent ocean. Rachel. Bolts of lightning. Rolls of thunder. Rachel. Rachel under water. Rachel drowning.
He gasped for air, his imagination so vivid that he reached for her…and felt his pole slip from his hands. Heard it plop as the top portion hit the water. “Damn!” he shouted, now fully alert. He’d lost the entire setup.
Rachel turned toward him. “What happened?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing important.” And it was true. He could replace the pole and test tubes. He glanced at Rachel and watched her apply sun-block to her long, shapely legs.
No one and nothing could replace her.
HE WAS DRIVING HER CRAZY. And not with lust. Why was he acting so weird? He’d been glancing at the sky all morning and then he’d stood at the rail like a lifeguard watching her swim. She didn’t need a lifeguard. She’d wanted him to swim with her. His conversation had deteriorated into grunts whenever she’d questioned him. They would have eaten lunch in total silence had it not been for the CD system in the cockpit. As far as she was concerned, they’d wasted a beautiful day. Or at least half of it.
“Don’t you think it’s time to go back?” she asked when they’d cleaned up after their midday meal. They were sitting across from each other on the upper deck in the shade of a canvas canopy. She was still drinking her diet soda.
Jack glanced at his watch. “It’s only one o’clock.”
“I know…but let’s face it,” she said. “Something went wrong today. Neither of us is having a good time. I don’t know what I’ve done, but…”
He stood up quickly and walked to the railing. “It’s not you. It’s me.” He tilted his head and searched the sky.
“See!” said Rachel, joining him. “You’re doing it again. There’s barely a cloud unless…you’ve gotten a weather report I don’t know about?”
He shook his head, and she turned away from him. A mix of embarrassment and anger unsettled her. She should never have agreed to accompany him. She knew better than to mix business with pleasure.
Suddenly, she felt Jack’s warm hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Rachel.” His whisper caressed her ear. “I’m sorry for ruining our day.”
His sincerity confused her further. And when she felt him massage the back of her neck, she knew she’d have to dig deeper. The man was worried about something. As much as she hated to give up the massage, she stepped away.
“Then tell me what’s going on. Why are you so…so uneasy?”
For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. In fact, he was the one who seemed embarrassed.
“I dreamed about you,” he began. “In a white bathing suit. There was a storm, and you were in danger. All I knew was that I had to keep you safe.”
The guy looked big enough to be a one-man army, and he was worried about a dream? She would have laughed out loud except he looked so troubled. “Sounds more like a nightmare,” she replied, keeping her voice light. “So, what happened in the end? Did you keep me safe?”
A glorious smile answered her. “Oh, yeah,” he said, his voice husky as he stepped closer. “I’d never let you drown.” But she was drowning right now. Drowning in his tender expression, drowning in the warmth of his eyes and in the gentleness of his touch on her cheek. She wanted to cuddle into his palm. Instead, she tilted her head back and whispered, “Thank you.”
And then she drowned in his kiss.
RACHEL STRODE THROUGH the corridors of the high school on Tuesday morning, still thinking about that kiss and the ones that had followed, and how quickly the afternoon had slipped by once Jack had talked about his nightmare. She was still somewhat surprised. She knew that dreams could be powerful, could sometimes be extremely vivid, but for Jack to be unnerved? The man was a scientist! And then she’d come up with the only logical explanation—superstition.
Sailors were a superstitious breed, and Jack was definitely a sailor. When she’d teased him, he’d denied the charge vigorously, but she noted the twinkle in his eye.
“If I were superstitious,” he’d said, “you’d have to be buck-naked on my little ship. Every sailor knows that a woman on board makes the sea angry. But a naked woman calms the sea down.” He’d wiggled his eyebrows. “Ever wonder why so many ships have figure-heads of bare-breasted women?”
She smiled as the memory teased her. In the end, they’d had a fun afternoon chatting and going farther out where they’d caught a mess of bluefish. They’d grilled their dinner at Sea View House, and then walked along the beach, relaxed in each other’s company. And when they’d said good-night on the back porch, she’d seen desire heat his eyes. He’d wanted her, but he’d resisted. Had he been waiting for her cue?
She found herself mulling over the question because she was determined to be cautious herself. Sure, she was attracted to him, but taking big risks in a small town was not a wise move. Especially for her. She had too much to lose regarding both her career and her reputation. Caution on both their parts could only be a good move.
At the end of the corridor, she entered a stairwell and climbed one flight to the science wing. She’d set aside time this morning for classroom visits and looked forward to seeing the “cool” science teacher in action. Her nephew had clued her in on Jack’s growing popularity. His actual description had been that Jack was “way cool.”
Rachel exited the stairs and peeked into the first room along the hall. Mr. Brooker, a chemistry teacher, was pacing and lecturing. Rachel entered the room in time to hear Mr. Brooker ask about the differences between an atom and a molecule. Most students seemed to be paying attention, but some looked puzzled, some looked bored and at least two yawned. She quietly took a seat in the back and settled in to observe.
During the next period, she visited a basic biology class before finally approaching Jack’s class in marine biology. The door was closed, and through its glass panes, Rachel could see that the room was dark. She opened the door slowly and realized that the class was watching a video about the ocean. Jack came to the door, a smile on his face.
“Want to join us? Plenty of popcorn’s still available.”
She sniffed. He wasn’t kidding. “I won’t come in today,” said Rachel, “since you’re showing a film. I can easily come back at another time.”
“No problem. See you later.”
She waved and returned to her office, her mind now focused on the memo she was planning to send to all families with a child on a school sports team. The memo would reinforce the “No pass, no play,” policy that the students had been told about in school.
She stopped to knock on Bob Franklin’s open door.
“Have a minute?”
He nodded, a frown almost cutting his forehead in half.
“Just wanted to let you know about the memo. I’ll have it ready by the end of the day, and we can give copies to the kids tomorrow.”
“Not a good idea. It’ll just add more stress. The boys are already under a lot of pressure to perform.” He turned back to the work on his desk.
“We really are on the same side, Bob,” she said softly. “I want those kids to succeed at everything.”
The man spun in his chair. “There are only twenty-four hours to the day, Rachel. And they have to sleep!”
She took a breath, determined not to lose her temper. “We’re not asking for A’s. Only that they pass everything. Surely you want that, too.”
He met her glance without flinching. “A winning season is more important. They can study after the season is over.”
“Which is after Thanksgiving! If they screw up for three full months, how will they ever catch up with the rest of their classmates? Final grades will be out in December and those count toward college admissions. We’ve got a number of juniors and seniors playing school sports. It will matter to them.”
&n
bsp; “They’ll get in because they play great ball, not because they’re scholars. What’s wrong with your memory? Being a jock didn’t hurt your college admissions any. And my boys can do the same.” He rose from his seat, steel-gray eyes burning into her brown ones.
Rachel stood taller, glad she was wearing two-inch heels, glad she could meet his gaze without flinching. “I am getting pretty tired of listening to my past being misrepresented. If you’d taken the trouble to ask how I got into college, you would have learned that in addition to my rank as a swimmer, I earned a combined fourteen hundred on my SAT scores.” She leaned back against the door frame, her hands gripping the wood, her blood heated. But she controlled her voice, and it remained low and calm. “Can we count on all your boys doing the same?”
Gotcha.
He didn’t answer, but his eyes narrowed as he processed her words. Time to make an exit.
“I’ll get copies of the memo to you by this afternoon,” she called over her shoulder, as she walked through the door.
She went to her own office, closed the door and collapsed into her chair. In truth, she was shaking a bit. She’d trained herself not to back down, but she hated confrontations. Much preferred open, honest discussion. However, Bob Franklin had managed to make himself scarce whenever she’d wanted to talk about the teams. She shrugged and faced her computer screen. It was time to write the memo.
In the end, she wrote two. One to the students and families. And one to the teachers and coaches reminding them about the after-school tutoring service. She encouraged them to communicate with one another especially if they had concerns about specific students.
Satisfied that she’d covered all the issues involving sports, she turned her mind to other concerns. The kids with learning problems, the kids with after-school jobs, the kids with attendance problems whose parents didn’t give a damn. She’d concentrate on kids who weren’t being challenged and on the teachers who didn’t care.
The rest of the week flew by. She didn’t see Jack again, never had a chance to return to his classroom, and didn’t see him at Sea View House, either. She heard him, however, returning home after ten o’clock each night and climbing the stairs to the Eagle’s Nest. It was not possible for him to be taking samples that late, so he was probably out with friends in Boston. Dinner. Perhaps dancing. Very possible. He was definitely a social animal. And the Pilgrim Cove-to-Boston ferry service ran every half hour until ten at night.
The day she’d spent with him on his boat seemed a long time ago. She’d even succeeded in putting him out of her mind. At least until Friday—when she found him leaning against her car, obviously waiting for her.
JACK WATCHED AS SHE approached, her expression more curious than pleased.
“What’s up?” She juggled her purse, got her keys and inserted them into her car door.
“How about dinner this evening? I haven’t seen you all week, and I’m taking the night off.”
She placed her tote bag in the car, then turned to study him. “Turning in early? Good idea.”
He rubbed his hand across his face. Definitely time for a shave. “I must look worse than I feel.”
She eyed him. “Late nights can do that.”
“It can’t be helped. But I’m feeling great, and we need to talk. So, how about it? Either the Lobster Pot or Sea View House.”
She didn’t answer for a long moment. And then she turned him down. Nicely. “I wouldn’t mind the company, but going out with you is a bad idea. For both of us.”
She wouldn’t mind his company? Leave it to Rachel never to inflate his ego!
He put his hands on her shoulders. “Let me set you straight, Rachel. I don’t give a flying fig about what anyone says about me, and I don’t intend to live like a hermit in Pilgrim Cove.”
“But…”
“Listen, you may have problems you don’t even know about, problems that have nothing to do with me. Dinner is a good idea.”
Her eyes widened. And he was sorry he’d frightened her. “But you can handle them. It’s early days yet.”
Under his palms, he felt her whole body rise and fall as she breathed. Then she shrugged his hands away.
“Going out in public will only compound any problems I’ve already got. So, the answer’s still no.”
He sighed. “Stubborn woman! I’ll call Polini’s for a pizza.”
“Not pizza. You wanted a hearty meal tonight.”
“Don’t tell me you’re offering to cook?” He already knew the answer to that. Her culinary skills extended to using the outdoor grill and tossing a salad.
Sure enough, she said, “Don’t be silly. My hot dogs aren’t the answer, but I’ll treat you to a compromise. How about Chinese takeout?”
“Sold.”
Her expression sobered. “I can’t say I’m exactly looking forward to our conversation.”
“You’ll handle it.”
But three hours later, as they sat across from each other in Rachel’s dining room, he wasn’t sure. She was smart, energetic and caring. She wanted Pilgrim Cove High to be the best. But she was either blind or truly stubborn. For every warning he gave her, she had an answer.
“The teachers are beginning to resent you. They think you don’t respect them, don’t trust them. They complain that you’re always breathing down their necks.”
“You bet I am! They’re grumbling because they know I won’t put up with laziness,” said Rachel. “They’re grumbling because I visit their classrooms. Some of them haven’t changed a lesson plan in twenty years! What’s worse, in some classes, the kids are afraid to ask questions. Heck, I was almost afraid to ask questions. So, if I’m rocking boats, I’m glad.”
“You can’t fight everyone, Rachel. There’s talk about you in the staff lunchroom. Every day.” He tried to speak gently, reasonably.
“There’s always talk when someone comes on board and makes changes. They’ll adjust. I know they want our students to perform better on the state tests. So they need to do things differently.”
“And you’re holding the carrot and the stick.”
“I guess I am.”
“There’s more.”
She looked him squarely in the eye. “Don’t tell me the staff is going on strike!”
He chuckled. “No, no. It’s not that bad yet. And the point is, Rachel, not to let it get that bad. Parents are starting to get involved because their kids’ teachers aren’t happy. One talks to the other. You should know how that goes in a small community.”
She looked past his shoulder. “Thanks for your concern, Jack. I’ll do what I think is right.”
“The students are rumbling, too. Not only the football team, but all the athletes and their friends who don’t play, not to mention the coaches and gym staff.”
Now he watched her pace the room, her top teeth biting her bottom lip. “It’s called standards, Jack. We have standards. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why everyone is so surprised. Wasn’t the ‘no pass, no play’ policy ever enforced before?”
A good question. He shook his head. “I’m new here, newer than you. I don’t know.”
“I guess time will answer that question, too.”
Her voice was soft, her eyes warm and resigned. She began clearing the table, and he stood to help her. “How about a walk along the beach?”
She perked up instantly as he’d anticipated. He knew her well enough to know she needed physical activity to keep her sane and happy. And he liked seeing this woman happy, even if he didn’t fully understand why. All he knew was that he respected Rachel, respected her efforts. Maybe that was why he’d decided to reveal what he knew. Rachel’s happiness was becoming very important to him.
ON THE FIRST NIGHT of the Jewish New Year, Rachel stood in the middle of her parents’ living room, in the center of the large group of Lou and Pearl’s friends, and wondered for the thousandth time in her life how her mom managed to make entertaining look so easy. She asked Pearl, who was standing next to her.
“It is easy! Everybody brings something. You and dad set up the extra tables, and you’ll head the cleanup committee, so what’s so hard?” Pearl gave Rachel a quick hug and went over to speak to Bart Quinn. Probably to thank him for his contribution. Homemade gefilte fish.
Rachel waved at Bart and covered a grin. Her mom was no dope. Thea and Maggie had the freshest fish in town at the restaurant, so over the years Pearl bought her whitefish and pike from them, and eventually taught Bart’s daughters how to make the traditional dish. Now Bart brought it every year and her mom cooked one less item on her menu. This year, Bart also brought his granddaughter and great-granddaughter, Lila and Katie Sullivan.
The house was crowded. Doc and Marsha Rosen—who’d made perfect stuffed cabbage, not too sweet, not too tart—were chatting with Rick and Dee O’Brien. Rachel still felt more comfortable calling the former police chief “Chief,” the way she had when she’d been a kid.
Kate and Mike Lyons were talking with Jack. No surprise there, given their mutual interest in the coastal environment. Her eyes kept returning to Jack, however, as she mingled with the rest of the ROMEOs—Sam Parker, Joe Cavelli and the Bigelows. There was something different about her upstairs neighbor today. She couldn’t quite figure it out yet. Maybe his clothes? Sport shirt, slacks and a jacket that now hung over the back of a chair. It was the first time she’d seen him in anything dressier than a jersey. His face…clean-shaven, no trace of a shadow. She continued to study him. Haircut! That was it. The carefree pirate was totally gone. And in his place stood a gorgeous, grown-up, responsible adult.
Her heart thumped so hard, she pressed her hand over it. Suddenly, his eyes caught hers. He cocked his head in inquiry.
“Haircut?” She mouthed the question, feeling heat travel from her chest to her neck and face. She tugged a few of her own strands to illustrate.
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