by Mindy Neff
“No, you won’t. Because you won’t go there again.”
She confounded him by laughing. He’d expected her to take him to task for coming on like an arrogant prig. He should have known. Molly Kincade never did the expected.
“Adam Walsh, you’ve got a lot to learn if you have any hope of making it as a guidance counselor at this school. The type of kids you’ll be dealing with will just blow you off if you come on like a heavy with them. Most of these kids are tough guys. They have to be in order to survive. I’d suggest you work on your technique, or you’ll be a total flop.”
The five-minute bell shrilled, and several kids came strolling in. Molly raised a brow pointedly at his position on the corner of her desk.
Adam stood. “I’ll take your advice under consideration. In the meantime, why don’t you let me have a go at Lamar? I’ll check up on his files and see what I can do.”
“Sorry. You’re L through P, remember? Castillo is C. Since we’re short staffed, I’ve got A through F. You’ll get Eddie, though. Martinez. The bathroom boy?” she reminded when he frowned. Her smile inched up a notch. “He’s a good kid. Father’s a drinker—abusive—mom’s too scared to cross him. The system just turns a blind eye. Makes me sick.” She shook her head. “He could easily go bad. Actually I wouldn’t half blame him. But I’m not going to let that happen.”
“You just said he was mine,” Adam reminded. “An M.”
“So he is,” Molly agreed. “Still, you’re the new guy on the block. I think I’ll just watch over your shoulder for a while.”
“Funny, that’s exactly what I had in mind.”
His light brown eyes spoke to Molly in a way that had her insides churning. It was a simple fluke that she was responding to this man. She wasn’t interested in another relationship. Never would be again.
“Adam…” She lowered her voice, not wanting the impressionable cheerleaders who were watching with avid interest to overhear. “If you’re making a pass at me, I need to set the record straight right away. I’m not in the market for a man.”
“You got something against our gender?”
She didn’t understand the odd glint in his gaze, as if the answer to his question was somehow life-and-death important. She set aside the fanciful thought.
“No. Nothing against men in general. It’s just that I lost somebody not too long ago. When he left… Well, he took my heart with him—or the best part of it. The only room left here—” she placed her right palm over her chest “—is for my kids.”
Chapter Three
It was late by the time Molly finally made it out of her classroom. Most of the teachers were already gone, as were the students, except for a few stragglers serving detention.
Carrying her satchel full of papers to grade, she made her way to the parking lot. The faded blue Honda sat alone, looking decrepit and forlorn. No, not totally alone, she realized, noticing the shiny black Porsche a few rows over. Who in his or her right mind would drive an expensive car like that in this neighborhood?
Molly got a firm grip on her envy and pulled out her keys. Was it just the contrast of the Porsche, or did her little car look sadder than usual? It appeared to be listing at a drunken angle.
The closer she got to the car, the more her spirits sank. “Doggone it!”
She’d either picked up a nail, or somebody had let the air out of her front tire. Great. The car had been missing a jack when she’d bought it secondhand. Not that a jack would have done her much good right now. She’d taken the spare tire out of the trunk when she’d helped Jody Nance move last week.
Her insurance company didn’t offer towing service, and on a limited income, applying for an autoclub card was an expense that wasn’t in her budget.
She turned, intending to go back inside and call a cab, and yelped when she ran headlong into Adam Walsh.
“Problems?” he asked, steadying her with a hand on each of her arms.
Molly’s chest actually hurt from the force of her heartbeat. “Yes, there’s a problem. You scared me half to death!”
“Sorry.” His hands dropped, and he took a step back. “Flat tire, huh?”
“Looks that way.”
“Pop the trunk. I’ll get your jack and give you a hand.”
“There is no jack.” She ignored his thunderous look. She knew she should have the equipment and didn’t need him to tell her so.
Good grief, the way the man tossed gates around, maybe she should just ask him to lift her car and unscrew the lug nuts.
She saw his jaw tighten, saw the skin at the corners of his light brown eyes pull taut, making the scar beneath his eyebrow whiten against his tanned skin.
Why did those light brown eyes draw her so? And why did she feel as if she’d cut him to the quick when she hadn’t even said a word—except that she had no jack.
“So,” he said, his voice dangerously soft, “you want to see the freak perform?”
Molly frowned, confused and a little frightened, an eerie flutter dancing along her spine. “Adam—”
He brushed by her and reached for the front bumper of her car.
Molly felt sick. My God, how had he known her thoughts? A thought that had been purely conjured in jest? Or was it just a fluke?
Hands trembling, she reached for him, laying her fingertips against the rock-hard muscles beneath his suit jacket. Even through the tailored fabric, she felt that strange hum of tension, the heat.
“Adam, don’t.” Who was this man? she wondered. This man who could frustrate her, unnerve her and make her care so easily. Care in a way she hadn’t done in a long time…since Jason.
His breath hissed out as he straightened. Hands clenched at his sides, he looked heavenward, as if searching for a measure of fortitude—or an elusive answer he didn’t expect to find.
Molly had an urge to wrap him in her arms, to promise him those answers—whatever they may be. He seemed to be engaged in some sort of inner struggle, a struggle he wasn’t entirely sure he’d win. A vein at his temple pulsed visibly. Gone was the teasing guidance counselor she’d met this morning.
In his place was the man she’d met last night. The tormented soul whose burdens weighed so heavily it was a wonder he could stand. But stand he did.
Alone.
“Adam?” She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to apologize, or even what to apologize for. “Are you all right?”
He turned then, and the change in him was astonishing. Evidently he’d mastered whatever control he sought.
“Yeah. I’m fine. I’ve got a jack in my car.”
Oh, dear, she didn’t want to tell him this. Like a guilty school kid caught ditching class, she glanced away.
“Won’t make much difference…unless you have a spare that will fit this.” She inclined her head toward the Honda.
“You don’t have a jack or a spare?”
She shook her head. It truly was cowardly not to look at him.
“What if this had happened last night?” he asked softly, slowly, his voice straining with polite patience. “Do you have any idea how incredibly foolish it is to drive with no jack and no spare?”
Foolish. He hadn’t called her stupid, but still, the definitions were darned near interchangeable. A flash of irritation snapped her head up.
“Any mission to keep my kids in class is not foolish. I go where I need to go and it’s been a hell of a long time since someone has had the almighty nerve to try and tell me otherwise.” She snatched up her satchel and whirled around.
“And,” she stressed as a parting shot, “if I’d had a flat last night, I would have called a cab. Just like I intend to do now.”
“Molly, wait.”
She looked down at the strong fingers that had wrapped around her arm to stop her departure. He released her almost instantly, but she still felt the heat, as if he were running a fever. The man looked bone tired—which he probably was, she realized. First day on the job at demons High would wear out anybody.
/> As always, Molly’s anger dissipated like a wispy cloud in a gust of wind. Her emotions had always been quick to flare and just as quick to calm.
“Unless you’ve got a spare tire to go with that jack, we’re wasting time. I’d like to get home sometime before tomorrow.”
“I’ve got a spare,” he said. “But I doubt it’ll fit.”
“Let me guess. You drive the shiny Porsche over there. The one with the meaty tires?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Too bad.”
“Too bad that I drive a Porsche?”
“No. Too bad that the spare won’t fit.” She chuckled at the image that flashed in her mind. “It’s just as well. My little car would probably never again give me a moment’s peace if she got to wear a Porsche tire. It’d be sort of like Cinderella’s stepsister cramming her foot into the glass slipper. She’d have to give it back because it didn’t fit, then she’d be hounding me to buy her pretty things that did fit.”
She caught a glimpse of the strange expression on Adam’s face and laughed. “Don’t mind me. I have a wild imagination, and it doesn’t always make sense to others.”
His features softened. Now the guidance-counselor persona was back.
“Are you anything like your car?”
“How’s that?”
“If I offer you a ride home, will you start dreaming of your pumpkin turning into an elegant coach?”
Molly laughed again. “Probably. But I’m tired and hungry and anxious to get home. So if you’re offering me a ride, I accept. And I won’t even ask you if I can drive.”
“You can if you want.”
“I’m shocked. A man offering a strange woman free rein with his pride and joy.”
“There aren’t any material possessions I’d consider my pride and joy.”
“None?”
“None.”
The bleakness in his tone saddened her. She wanted to ask about it but didn’t. She hardly knew this man. Besides, she could identify with sadness that went so deep it wrapped around your soul and threatened to squeeze all the joy from life. She could identify because she’d battled a similar sadness every day.
Every day since a man named Frank Branigan had called to tell her Jason would never be coming back to her.
With a hand at her back, he urged her toward his car and held the passenger door open. Molly settled into the rich leather interior, taking a firm hold on her envy. She had no business dreaming about owning expensive vehicles. No, better to be thankful for the reliable Honda. Not that it was all that reliable at the moment with a bum tire.
The Porsche dipped as Adam slid into the seat. The engine roared to life like the growl of a sleek, powerful animal. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off his strong hands as he shifted into reverse. A gold watch peeked out from the sleeve of his white dress shirt. Everything about this man shouted understated elegance. Well, not totally understated.
“You don’t buy one of these babies on a guidance tech’s salary,” she mused aloud, itching to play with the buttons on the sophisticated stereo system.
Adam glanced at her as he pulled out of the parking lot. Big mistake. Now he was going to have trouble keeping his mind on the road and off Molly’s legs. Her taupe skirt had ridden up on her thigh. Even though she had her satchel on her lap, there was entirely too much skin showing for his peace of mind. So close his knuckles could easily brush that creamy skin when he shifted into fourth gear.
He reached up and tugged at the knot of his tie, needing to create distance—as if such a thing were possible in the confines of the sports car. The slight tremor just below the surface of his skin wasn’t noticeable, and he didn’t feel as drained. Of course, he hadn’t really exerted himself. This time he’d been able to beat back the major surge before it consumed him.
“The job’s something I do because I care. The money eame from an inheritance and sound investing.” That wasn’t a lie. He’d more or less inherited Jason North’s money—government guilt money he’d invested wisely.
“What made you decide on Clemons?”
Hell. This conversation was headed toward a potential minefield. It could explode without warning if he wasn’t careful. “I live in South Pasadena. I was at loose ends, and a friend arranged for the interview.”
“Oh. Well, good. We’re in dire need of staff.” She glanced at him, the corners of her full lips tilting upward. “Mind if I give you some advice?”
“I have a feeling you’ll give it whether I say yes or no.”
She laughed, the sound filling the interior of the car like an exquisite ballad. He’d never known a sound could cup his heart…and squeeze.
“You should lose the suit. Not that there’s anything wrong with it. It’s great. But the kids’ll think you’re a stuffed shirt. If you want to gain their trust, you’ve got to meet them on their level.”
He raised a brow. “Any suggestions?”
“A pair of jeans will do. You’ll need to turn at the next street,” she said at the exact instant he flicked on his blinker.
He saw her fingers tighten on her leather satchel, heard the questions screaming in her mind. He tried to tune out her thoughts, her emotions. It was damned hard with her sitting so close, with the familiar, erotic smell of her perfume teasing his senses.
Molly’s heart thudded in her chest, and her palms became slick. He hadn’t asked which way to turn. He’d automatically turned left.
“I don’t remember giving you directions to my house,” she said softly. “So far, you’ve made three correct turns.”
“I saw your personnel file.”
“Funny. Those files aren’t usually left out for people to see.”
His shoulders lifted. She had an idea there was no padding in the seams of that suit. She’d seen this man’s strength—even though he’d passed it off as nothing. Now she had to wonder. Her heart continued to pump at an accelerated rate as she waited for his explanation.
“So I snooped.”
“Why?” She took her gaze off him for a split instant as he unerringly pulled up in front of her apartment complex.
“Because I was curious about you.” He shut off the engine, and for a second the absence of noise seemed deafening.
Molly should have been frightened. She had every reason to be. She’d only met this man twenty-four hours ago. Yet instead of fear, she felt excitement…hope, as if she were standing on the precipice of discovery, of something very important.
Against all reason, she felt the walls surrounding her heart begin to tumble, felt herself falling into this man. Déjàa vu, powerful and sweeping, slammed into her. Her throat ached and her heart lurched. It was as if her conscious had merged with his, as if a voice called to her….
A voice she missed so badly.
A voice so like Jason’s.
Adam’s voice.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
He reached out and ran a gentle finger down her cheek. She felt that touch vibrate in every fiber of her being.
“I’m just a man. A guidance tech at demons High.”
But why do I feel as though I should know you?
“Don’t confuse me with somebody else, Molly.”
Unease zinged through her. “How do you do that? You’re answering my thoughts.” Her world felt ungrounded. The past kept superimposing over the present. Her thoughts and reactions were foolish. Yet she couldn’t let it go. Grief warred with fragile hope. A hope she couldn’t grasp, couldn’t even define.
He shook his head. “I’m answering the look in your eyes. Sometimes people see what they want to see. Hear what they want to hear. What they wish.”
“But how do you know what I want? What I wish? I—”
His finger lightly covered her lips, lingered for just an instant. “You told me you’d lost somebody, remember?”
She wanted to grab his finger, hold it against her lips for a little longer. But he’d already pulled back. What in the world was wrong with he
r? He wasn’t Jason. It’s just that his eyes…his voice…
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m making you uncomfortable: You must think I’m some sort of nut.”
“No.” He reached for the door handle. “I just think the guy you’re remembering was one lucky son of a gun. Come on, I’ll walk you to your door.”
“That’s not—” the door slammed shut “—necessary.” Before she could gather herself and her belongings, Adam had the passenger door open.
She swung her legs out of the low sports car, and her skirt ended up darned near around her hips. Luckily the satchel afforded her a shred of modesty. She saw the muscle in Adam’s jaw flex.
He held out his hand, his gaze darting—for just an instant—to the exposed skin of her thighs. “I’m growing more attached to this car by the minute,” he muttered.
Molly accepted his helping hand. His skin was warm but didn’t radiate the fierce heat it had before. “If you make any comments about me being short, you might end up with this satchel upside your head,” she warned.
“You’re little but mighty, right?”
She jerked, her palm tightening around his. Then she mentally shook her head and let him pull her from the low-slung seat. Damn it, she wasn’t going to torture herself with those memories. He had no way of knowing those were the same words she’d said countless times to Jason.
Or did he?
She deliberately didn’t mention her apartment number, watching to see if he’d make the right turn, find the right patio gate.
“School’s out, teacher,” he said. “This isn’t a test.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve already told you I looked up your file. I know you live in apartment 14.”
“Darn it, you did it again.”
“No, I didn’t. Your expressive face shows every thought in your head.”
“It does not. And to prove my point, how did you know exactly what it is that I just accused you of doing again?”
“You’ve lost me.”
“I don’t think so.” He stood to the side as she reached for the latch on her back gate. “Are you coming all the way in to check for bogeymen?”