by Mindy Neff
Was she losing her mind? Did she want so badly for him to be that sweet page from her history that she was projecting that longing onto him?
She hadn’t heard from him all weekend, had wondered if perhaps he’d disappeared. There was no listing in the phone directory for Adam Walsh in South Pasadena—she’d checked.
But she’d felt the connection, a link that still vibrated and shimmered, making her feel as if he were only an over-the-shoulder glance away. She’d even considered walking the inner streets of L.A., just to see if he’d show up, shadow her, ready to rescue and chastise and play the knight in shining armor—or maybe not so shining. My armor’s tarnished as hell, princess. Makes it easier to slip through back alleys that way. The streetlights don’t reflect off the shine.
Would he have come to her if she’d been in trouble? Would he have somehow known?
Her palms closed into fists to keep from reaching for him. Please, she begged silently. It feels so strong. Are you my dream? Am I going crazy?
His shoulders went rigid beneath his sweatshirt. Was that pity she saw in his light brown eyes? Was the explanation for his distance as simple as a gentleman trying to save a lady the embarrassment of caring too much when those feelings weren’t returned? Was he simply trying to let her down gently because she’d read too much into a single kiss?
A powerful kiss that had tasted of sweet familiarity?
She couldn’t abide pity.
She opened her mouth to tell him so, but Larry Reese yanked the door open and motioned them both inside with a terse jerk of his head.
Adam and Molly had barely sat down before the principal tossed a newspaper down on his desk in front of them. It had a note attached, warning whoever cared that this paper had been sent to the L.A. Times.
Molly sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, biting it to keep from smiling. The school newspaper showed the same pictures she’d just seen in her class, except they were printed in black and white. The students were probably having a field day with this.
The photos did not show the school in a favorable light.
She met Adam’s eyes, saw a similar amusement there.
“What are you doing here?” she finally whispered, chagrined that she’d just now gotten around to the inquiry.
He shrugged, acting as if they were just two normal people, as if the uncomfortable moment outside the door hadn’t occurred.
“Getting my hands slapped, same as you. Since I’m the kid’s counselor, Reese thinks that includes birddog duty.”
“Eddie’s way too slippery to be bird-dogged. He’s one of those free spirits, basically a loner who’s everybody’s friend.”
“Excuse me,” the principal interrupted. “Can we dispense with the chitchat and get back to the problem at hand?”
Molly turned toward the principal. “So, what’s the problem?”
“You can look at this newspaper, this threat to go to the Times, and ask me that question?” His voice rose on a note of panic.
“Why not? Looks okay to me. Decent grammar. No misspelled words.” She flipped her hair back over her shoulder. “Haven’t you ever heard of freedom of speech? It’s his constitutional right. And pictures don’t he, Larry.”
“I might have known you’d take this route.”
She didn’t like his attitude. Didn’t like the attitudes of half the faculty members at this under funded, understaffed school, for that matter.
“Look. Eddie Martinez has been in my class every day. He’s making progress. I assigned this project—perhaps not in this exact format, but I think Eddie showed a lot of initiative. In my book, that earns him an A.“
She’d told Eddie to fight for what he believed in, and she could do no less than stand behind him. Maybe that credit beneath the photos would spark his pride and change his life.
“What does this—” Reese flicked the newspaper in disgust “—have to do with freshman English? That is what you’re assigned to teach, isn’t it?”
He’d just run afoul of her flash-point, hotheaded nature with that condescending question. By damn, she taught more than English, and he well knew it. The school had her stretched so thin, half the time she didn’t know if she was coming or going, much less which doggoned hat to wear.
“It has to do with learning, Larry. It has to do with the courage to make a stand! Students will rise to the level of expectation—if we just give them a chance. It doesn’t matter if they’re underprivileged or undertaught.” She was building up a healthy head of steam. If there was one thing that could raise her passion to boiling, it was her students. Her kids.
And the pompous attitude of Larry Reese.
“If you’d quit looking down your narrow nose with blinders on, you’d see that there are some teachers in this school who are masters at underteaching!”
George Van Ark was one of them. Head of the English department and determined to flunk every one of his students. It was due to VanArk that she’d even gotten Eddie in the first place.
Thank you very much, George, she thought, but damn you for kicking Eddie out of class—probably for no good reason other than lack of caring.
VanArk was an idiot, as far as Molly was concerned, with his caterpillar eyebrows, long nose hairs, grossly hairy ears—he reminded her of Alf the alien on an old TV show.
The instant Molly pictured the crazy image, Adam burst out laughing.
Stunned, all she could do was stare. She hadn’t heard him really cut loose like this. The sound, delighted and friendly and unrestrained, filled the dingy office, inviting participation.
Striking yet another familiar chord.
She didn’t know whether to laugh with him…or to cry.
Larry Reese stared at Adam as if he’d lost his mind. Nobody had said anything funny.
“Alf?” Adam mouthed.
Molly’s eyes narrowed slightly. His laughter was uncharacteristic, as was his deliberately calling her attention to his gift. The gift he professed to abhor. Despite her confusion, her brows raised and her lips curved. Well? Doesn’t he?
“Share the joke?” Reese asked, looking more annoyed by the minute.
“You wouldn’t get it,” Adam said, his gaze still locked with Molly’s.
Molly bit her lips to hold back the bubble of laughter that threatened. She’d been called in front of the principal, and now her thoughts had been disruptive.
“Are we through getting our hands slapped?” Adam asked the principal.
“That’s not what this is about.”
“No? Felt that way to me. You might want to try standing behind your better teachers, like Molly here, instead of worrying over this school’s precious image. Face it, Reese, the kid only told the truth. The school’s reputation is in the toilet, and it’s one step away from being flushed. You’d do better to concentrate your energies on cleaning up that image instead of chastising kids and teachers for pointing out the obvious.”
He stood and so did Molly.
Molly was impressed with his speech. It took nerve for a new faculty member to go against the grain like Adam had just done.
Of course, Larry Reese would back down if he knew what was good for him. Clemons was understaffed as it was, and what staff they did have had a tendency to bail out after only one semester.
With her eyes focused on the UCLA letters on the back of Adam’s sweatshirt, she followed him from the room.
Other than his outburst of laughter and him backing her up, he’d kept his distance. She couldn’t quite figure him out, couldn’t seem to mesh the two sides of him—the guidance tech with a soft spot for kids and the superman with dark shadows in his eyes. Had he deliberately played up his telepathy to throw her off track? As a means of making her think he couldn’t possibly be her Jason?
If he’d just let her close, perhaps she could—
He stopped suddenly, and Molly slammed into his back.
When he turned, she was stunned by the sparks shooting out of his brown gaze. They fairly singed.
“You might try to fix your kids, Molly, but don’t try to fix me.”
Affronted, Molly simply stared at him for several seconds. The man had more mood swings than Sybil.
“Who the heck are you? Dr. Jekyll one minute and Mr. Hyde the next?” Oh, that was a terrible thing to say. Because she could see in his eyes that he’d taken it literally.
“Damn, Adam. I’m sorry. But I don’t know what to think about you, what to expect. One minute you’re kissing me like there’s no tomorrow, and the next you don’t even call. You back me up with the principal, then you turn on me like an angry panther.”
“So we’re back to the kiss, are we, princess? Just give the word, just one word, that you’re not still hung up on that other guy, and I’ll be glad to repeat it.”
“Would you?”
He stared at her, his spine military straight, his amber eyes intense, probing. She knew he was deliberately searching her mind. And just as deliberately she blocked him. He had entirely too much advantage over her as it was. No sense giving away her game plan.
“I dare you, Adam. I dare you to kiss me.”
His breath hissed out, his shoulders slumping as if the burdens he carried were too great. “Do you know what it does to a guy’s ego to be compared to another man?”
He wasn’t going to give an inch. “You beat all I’ve ever seen, Adam Walsh. I’m giving you full permission to take advantage of me, and you insist on being noble. Whatever happened to the old theory about guys on the make who preyed on widows and single women, figuring they’d be an easy conquest because they’d done without for so long?”
He confounded her by grinning. “I’m not touching that question with a ten-foot pole, not with that fiery red hair of yours and the temperament to match. Besides, we’re standing in the middle of the office, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Molly glanced around, noticing that activity had come to a semihalt. Furtive glances were cast their way, ears straining.
Her mind twisted into a mass of confusion. One minute she felt a certainty so strong she wanted to weep, and the next she felt like the biggest kind of a fool.
Grabbing the sleeve of Adam’s sweatshirt, she pulled him out of the office.
Wasn’t this just dandy. She’d blatantly propositioned a man and been rejected—in a horribly public setting. She was too stunned by the exchange to even get embarrassed.
He stopped when they were well away from the office and turned toward her. “I’m not rejecting you, Molly. And I’m not a man on the make. If you knew anything about me, you’d realize that you deserve better than the likes of me. I’m not a good bet.” He stuck out his hand. “Could you just be my friend for a while?”
She stared at his hand, then shifted up to meet his eyes, eyes that looked so familiar. Slowly she reached out, slipping her palm in his, the thrill of his touch washing over her like a soothing balm.
“I’ve always been your friend,” she said softly.
He nodded, still holding her hand, his eyes shadowed, his touch incredibly tender in a world so tough. She didn’t know why she made that comparison, didn’t know why she suddenly felt like crying, why she felt so lost, why she felt as if he were lost.
At last he released her, then turned slowly and walked away. She waited until he’d disappeared down the hall leading to the auto shop before she let her mind have free rein.
She touched the heart charm at her neck. How could she be wrong about him when it felt so right? There was that certain look in his eyes, the voice, the way he’d called her half pint, the way he’d known where she lived.
She didn’t understand the strength, the ESP stuff or the face that looked nothing like Jason’s.
But she understood that kiss.
The way he made her feel, how her heart sang when he got close…the connection.
She’d loved the way Jason had smiled at her, loved the way his hands reached out for her, loved the power and the gentleness, the certainty that he was her true other half—like this necklace.
And now a man who called himself Adam Walsh was tapping into those same emotions.
It was all so confusing.
But Molly had a determined streak that wouldn’t quit. Damn it, her heart knew this man’s.
And a heart didn’t lie.
One of the first things she needed to concentrate on was wrangling an invitation to his house. She needed to see where he lived, to see if there were any traces of a past she might recognize.
“Watch out, Adam Walsh—if that’s who you want to call yourself,” she said softly, her words barely audible. “I’m about to turn up the heat, and we’ll just see how well you handle it, how long you can hold out.”
Chapter Seven
At the end of the week, Molly’s frustration level was about at its limit. Adam was avoiding her, and she couldn’t seem to corner him.
When the fire alarm shrilled, she had to make a concentrated effort not to sling the eraser against the chalkboard. She glanced at the clock above the door. Ten minutes before the end of the school day. There were no scheduled drills—some kid had probably set off the alarm as a prank. She didn’t even try to elicit order in the chaos. There was a major stampede out of the classroom.
Shaking her head, she filed in behind them, knowing they’d lose a good percentage of the students for the day. The kids considered fire drills a sign of freedom, a reason to ditch. They wouldn’t stop at the grassy fields and form orderly lines until the all-clear bell sounded. They’d just keep right on going.
The hallways were a sea of bodies, young lovers touching, friends pairing up, girls whispering, excitement racing. A half-eaten apple sailed above the crowd, beaning one of the students on the head.
As if in slow motion, activity stopped.
The crowd parted like the Red Sea, leaving two boys standing several feet apart, glaring at one another. Under any other circumstance, the scene might have resembled two sides choosing off for an innocent game of volleyball, but Molly knew different.
Buddies backed up buddies, squaring off as rivals. And in this school, that spelled danger.
Before she could wade into the fray, it erupted. The two teens charged, their friends closing the circle, forming a human boundary for the tempestuous arena. Girls screamed, boys shouted and off-color language turned the air blue as knuckles pounded against flesh with sickening thuds.
Molly shoved through the fracas, yelling over the din. “Move! Break it up! Outside where you belong!”
Despite being shorter than the majority of these kids—even the freshmen—Molly felt as if she was making pretty good progress. Single-minded in her mission, she yelped and automatically took a swing when someone lifted her bodily from behind.
Her fist missed, thank goodness—she could get sued for clobbering a student. She stopped struggling when she felt warm breath brush her ear, heard the familiar deep voice.
“Step aside, half pint. You’re liable to get yourself killed.”
If she hadn’t been so affronted by his caveman tactics, she might have leapt on the fact that he’d called her half pint. But right now she had a more pressing problem.
Adam had both of the fighters by the backs of their shirts. She charged forward, determined to intervene. She couldn’t have him tossing these kids through the air.
His head whipped around, the boys suspended, their feet dangling. His tense gaze slammed right into her, pinning her on the spot.
Oh, damn. He’d read her mind again.
Undaunted, she pressed forward, stepping between the boys, still looking at Adam.
“Well, then,” she said, her heart still pumping from the near-riot—and from the touch of Adam’s hands at her waist seconds ago. “I believe this just about covers fighting in the hallways.”
Adam lowered the boys’ feet to the floor but didn’t release his hold. Still watching Molly, he said, “It’s your call, teach. Pardon or punishment?”
Molly glanced at the boys. Tempers stil
l reddened their faces, as did embarrassment. If left untended, there would be retaliation after school. “Jesse, were you aiming that apple core at Manny?”
“No,” he said belligerently, his Up split and bleeding. “I just threw it, Miss Kincade. I didn’t know the dude was there.”
“Bull,” Manny said, glaring at his rival.
“Manny, stop it. Cool down and use your head for a minute. Do you actually think anybody’s aim could be that perfect in a hallway as crowded as this one? Because if you do, I’m going to do Jesse a big favor and phone the head scout for the Dodgers. Heck, they might even give you a reward for locating a potential pitcher with this kind of talent.”
Both boys stared at her with different expressions on their faces. Manny figuring Jesse could never in a million years be a pro ball player, and Jesse entertaining the idea.
Adam gave her a nod of approval. “Everybody cool here?” he asked.
Both boys nodded.
“Perhaps you guys could shake hands?” Molly asked.
Adam gave her a look that suggested she was crazy. She sent the look right back to him. “It wouldn’t hurt, you know. Especially since I’m leaning in favor of pardon instead of punishment.”
Jesse, who’d done the throwing, stuck out his hand first. He could be big about it since she’d just elevated him to the status of a professional sports star. After a reluctant second, with much glancing around for silent advice from his friends, Manny accepted the peace offering.
“Good,” Molly said. “In the future, Jesse, apple cores go in the trash bin. Now, everybody scram.”
“Back to class?” Jesse asked.
Molly glanced at her watch. School was officially out in three minutes. “No, but you might at least make a pretense of meeting out on the field. That was a fire alarm we heard.” Probably a bogus one, but still, rules were rules.
The students dispersed, and it didn’t take long for the hallways to clear, leaving only Molly and Adam.