Passionate Kisses 2 Boxed Set: Love in Bloom

by Magda Alexander

  Vivi laid her head against his chest, feeling such gratitude. Another case where he changed from a nineteen-year-old high school jock into her perfect hero. “Lane, you always, always know just what I need. I love you,” she whispered.

  “Well, now you’ve done it.”

  Vivi tilted her head up and peered at Lane. “What?”

  “S.B., I’ve waited eight long months to hear you say those three little words. Kissing you like my grandmother just isn’t going to cut it.” His hand slid up into her hair. But she stopped him from leaning down to kiss her with a hand against his chest.

  “This cannot be news to you,” she said.

  “You have never said the words.”

  “Because I’m a teacher,” she insisted.

  “None of those statutes said you couldn’t tell me you love me. So, say it again,” he demanded. “And then shut up and kiss me…like I’m…your brother.”

  They both started laughing.

  “Oh-this is ridiculous,” Vivi said as they moved to sit side by side on the weight bench. She leaned her head against his shoulder. He took one of her hands and started playing with her fingers.

  “It’s not going to last forever, Viv. I miss kissing you, I do. You know, like I want to. I really miss touching you in all those places I can’t touch you. Because a lot of those places are soft and sweet and smell good. Just thinking about those places gets me hot-and makes me think about when you get hot. Hot and woozy. And then, you know, it’s like the snowball effect because I just get hotter thinking about how hot you get and…okay, this isn’t helping.” Lane took a deep breath and blew it out. “What I’m trying to say, is that having to keep our hands to ourselves has forced me to appreciate you in ways I might have missed otherwise. I know this student/teacher thing is painful in a lot of ways. I mean for me, at first, I had to work hard not to let feelings of inferiority damage our relationship. Because being younger than you bugs the shit out of me anyway, and then add the teacher crap on top of that…”

  “You like being the boss,” she said.

  “I do. I really do. I especially like being the boss of you.” He laughed. “But I got over myself and finally joined your class in mind as well as body. And lo and behold, under all your curves and curls and lips and that sensational ass, there’s talent and poise and generosity and wisdom. You teach…all of us,” he said. “Every single one of us. With you, it’s like no man is going to be left behind. You’re the Marine Corp of math teachers. You love the subject. You want us to love the subject. And if you can’t get everybody to love the subject, at least you work them into some form of appreciation for it. I was sitting in class the other day laughing at one of your jokes, looking around the class seeing everybody awake, attentive, and engaged in a seventh-period Statistics class. And I thought to myself, that’s magic. You bring the magic. And then I thought about how great school would be if all teachers had your magic.”

  “Maybe all teachers start out with magic.”

  “Maybe. Maybe they start out more enthusiastic their first year than the next. Or maybe their lives get busy or start to hurt and the magic drifts away. I don’t know. But what I’m trying to tell you, Vivi DuVal, is that this situation you and I are in? It’s not all bad. I get to watch you do your thing and get to know a side of you I never would have if you weren’t teaching at Wilson this year.”

  “And I’ve had a helluva time watching you do your thing, number eleven. All the way to the semi-finals of the playoffs.”

  “Where we got rolled.”

  “Definitely a bit of a shock.”

  “At least we lost to the champs.”

  “Wilson’s best team ever. Division Champs. And how many personal school records?”

  “Are you trying to coax me into kissing you, Miss DuVal? Because there are rules about that. The girl I love and I are rule followers, so I suggest-”

  Vivi shut him up with a kiss.

  A loud banging echoed from the door.

  “Shit,” Vivi whispered.

  “Don’t panic,” Lane whispered back. “It’s probably just Harry.

  “Lane?” came Tinley’s voice as bold as ever. “Lane Kettering, are you down here?” The doorknob rattled, but the lock held. They heard Tinley move off further down the hall, knocking on the men’s locker room door. “Lane?” she hollered. It sounded like she’d opened the door and stuck her head inside.

  “That’s Tinley,” Vivi whispered. “The one planning on you driving her home.”

  “Maybe you should introduce us. Explain our situation.”

  Vivi shook her head. “It’s not that I don’t trust her. I’d just rather not entangle anybody else up in this charade if we don’t have to.”

  “Okay. Well, here’s the key,” Lane said. “I’ll go out first and sneak back upstairs, if I can. If I can’t, I’ll tell her I was having a smoke.”

  “You don’t smoke!”

  “She doesn’t know that.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Lock yourself inside and wait until you are absolutely certain the coast is clear,” he said.

  “I’ll go out the side door down by the parking lot. Then I’ll come back in the front. I’ll be fine,” Vivi said, resigned. “This is so stupid.”

  “S.B.” Lane chuckled. “It sure isn’t boring. Come into the bar when you get in. Flip me one of your smiles so I know you’re okay.”

  “Don’t let Tinley grab your ass,” Vivi grumbled. “I’m not sure she has a lot of boundaries.”

  Lane pecked her on the cheek, assuring her he could handle himself. They moved to the door, where he stuck his head out and looked both ways. Then he left.

  Vivi locked herself inside.

  Chapter Twenty One

  “Holy Shit!”

  Lane smacked his back up against the wall, startled by a busty blonde as he stepped around the corner. So this was Tinley. Quiet, sneaky Tinley. “Jesus, you scared the hell out of me,” he shouted. “What the hell?”

  “I’ve been looking for you, Lane Kettering. What are you doing down here?”

  “I’m working,” he said as he stepped around Tinley and moved toward the stairs.

  “Doing what?”

  “Checking on the heat.”

  “Oh.” He heard Tinley and her heels follow him up the stairs. “Well, is the heat okay?”

  “Yep.” Lane hit the top of the stairs and started dodging people to get back to the bar.

  “Why are you running?” Tinley yelled at him.

  He turned, not wanting to draw attention to them, and waited for her to catch up. “I’m working,” he said. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Yes,” she said. “You can give me a ride home when you’re done working.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  Tinley blinked up at him. Stunned. Clearly, no guy had ever turned her down before. Lane didn’t find that hard to believe, but he did find it amusing. So he folded his arms in front of him and glared at her, hard. “Cat got your tongue?”

  “I don’t understand the question.”

  She wasn’t lying. She clearly did not understand why a guy like him-my God, what the hell was it about his looks that made him appear to be such a dog-wouldn’t be chomping at the bit to drive her home.

  “I’m not interested in you,” he said before turning and heading back to the mixed grill. Harry waved him over to the adult bar, thank God, and handed him an apron.

  “Keep your head down and start washing glasses,” Harry said.

  “Happy to,” Lane said.

  “You can’t serve alcohol. You’re not twenty-one,” Harry said.

  “Got it.” Lane turned around, and there she was. Miss Tinley DuVal, seating herself at the bar. “Harry? Can you sit at the bar if you’re not twenty-one?” he asked, hoping to get rid of Tinley.

  Harry glanced in Tinley’s direction. “She’s a member of the club. She can sit wherever she wants. She can even drink alcohol. We just can’t serve it to her
directly.”

  “What?”

  “Membership has its privileges,” Harry shrugged.

  “I’m pretty sure her parents are the members.”

  “So it’s up to them if their underage daughter has a sip of alcohol or not.”

  “Good Lord. No wonder people love it over here in Henderson.”

  Harry chuckled. “They’re good people. Pretty sure you’ve already realized that though.”

  Lane looked Harry in the eye. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Harry nodded his head at the smoking hot vision decked out in green walking in the door. “Busted,” he said under his breath. “How did you know about the emergency?”

  “I’ve got a knack for that sort of thing,” Harry said. “Go play your game.”

  Lane nodded, wiped his hands on the apron, and headed in Vivi’s direction. “Miss DuVal,” he said, placing a napkin in front of her.

  “Happy New Year, Lane,” she said, smiling her sweet Sleeping Beauty smile as she seated herself on the barstool next to Tinley. “Have you met my cousin, Tinley?”

  Lane looked over at Tinley. “Not formally, no.”

  “Tinley, this is Lane Kettering. He’s in my Statistics class at Wilson. Lane, Tinley is a senior at Henderson this year.”

  “Do you have a girlfriend over there at Wilson?” Tinley asked.

  “I have my eye on somebody,” Lane said, smiling back at Vivi. “What can Harry or I get for you two?”

  “Champagne,” Vivi said.

  “Me too,” Tinley insisted.

  Harry put a glass of champagne in front of Vivi.

  Lane gave Tinley a Coke.

  “What’s this?” she sputtered.

  “Rules are rules,” Lane told her. “I’m a rule follower,” he said proudly. Then he winked at Vivi.

  “What’s going on with you two?” Tinley asked.

  “Nothing,” Vivi said. “He knows you’re seventeen. You’re not getting any alcohol out of him no matter how fast you bat your eyelashes.

  “Then order me a shot of rum, Vivi. I’ll throw it in my Coke.”

  “No way. I’m a rule follower too.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since the end of my first week as a teacher,” she said, sipping her champagne. “It’s an occupational hazard.”

  “It’s made you boring,” Tinley sighed.

  “It has, indeed,” Vivi agreed.

  “But she’s a helluva statistics teacher,” Lane defended.

  “You aren’t doing her any favors,” Tinley said, rolling her eyes. “What could be more boring than teaching math?”

  Lane wasn’t paying any attention to the words coming out of Tinley’s mouth at that point because trouble had just walked in the door and was eyeing Beauty.

  His Beauty.

  Trouble in the form of light hair with swagger, making a million dollars from the looks of it. That tuxedo was no rental. Neither was his Rolex. Trouble’s eyes stopped on Vivi’s back and remained set on his target as he strolled forward, reaching a hand out to gently touch her shoulder, turning her attention away from Lane.

  “Harv?” he heard Vivi say. And then a breathy, “Oh my goodness,” came out of his girl.

  What the fuck?

  Vivi moved off the bar stool and into Trouble’s arms.

  Lane stood there, paralyzed, watching, as things went from bad to worse. “Harv,” she squealed as Trouble pulled her tight against him and kissed her on the lips.

  Oh, hell no.

  Vivi pushed away from Harv, but she didn’t slap his face. Not like Lane had hoped. She just stood back, asking a lot of questions, acting like Harv wasn’t six seconds away from being tackled by a running back.

  Lane felt a nudge on his back. He looked over his shoulder at Harry, who pointedly looked toward Tinley, who was staring at Lane, open-mouthed.

  “What?” he snapped at Tinley.

  She leaned up over the bar and accused, “You like her.”

  Lane’s eyes glance over toward Vivi and Harv before coming back and landing on Tinley. “Who the hell is he?”

  “Harvard Michaels. Vivi’s ex-boyfriend.”

  “Oh.” Lane blinked, feeling a little relief. Then he squinted his eyes. “I thought his name was Kevin.”

  “Kevin was her boyfriend from Wake, who, it turns out, was gay. Harv Michaels is her boyfriend from high school. Big time baseball player who went off to Stanford and did all right. Definitely not gay.”

  “Jesus.”

  Just then, a pretty vision of hope sailed into the picture. Lane and Vivi’s attorney, Piper with her yellow blond curls and bright blue eyes held the arm of a man Lane recognized. Vance Evans, coach of the Henderson High baseball team. They interrupted Vivi and her ex’s reunion-thank God-with Coach Evans hugging Harvard-the-pompous like he was a long-lost child.

  Vivi took that moment to turn toward Lane and send him a pitiful look. He scowled his displeasure and went back to washing glasses. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Vivi moved off with her ex and the Evanses, heading to the ballroom. He glanced at his watch-not a Rolex-and was happy to see it was nowhere near midnight. If he had to watch that Stanford asshole kiss his girl again-”

  “What’s the story?”

  Lane turned and found Tinley had moved down the bar, closer to him.

  “Story?”

  “You and Vivi.” Tinley’s attitude had gone from flirty teenager, to drill sergeant. “And don’t insult my intelligence. I saw what I saw. So unless you want me blabbing about what I saw, because clearly it would make for some great gossip in this town, I suggest you fill me in on the details. Fast.”

  Lane glanced over toward Harry, who subtly nodded as he pretended to be busy making a drink. Lane took that as a go-ahead.

  “I’m interested in Vivi,” he said once he’d moved over closer so no one could hear them. “She won’t go out with me until I graduate, so I’m biding my time.”

  “There’s probably some big rule about students and teachers.”

  “There are a lot of big rules about students and teachers. So, unless you want to get your cousin fired, I suggest you keep whatever you think you saw to yourself.”

  “What I saw was you flipping out that Harv Michaels is back in town.”

  “I could give a shit about Harv Michaels.”

  “Isn’t Vivi a little old for you?”

  “Aren’t you a little young for me?”

  “Hmm. Okay, point taken. Still. You’re waiting around for her? When you could have any girl you want?”

  “She is the girl I want. Your cousin is beautiful and smart. She knows she has a lot of talent, but knows she’s not perfect, either. She’s easy, and fun, and funny, and…Jesus! I really shouldn’t be telling you this.”

  “But you have. So, here’s how we’re going to play it.”

  “Play it?”

  “Let’s go dance.”

  “I’m working.”

  “Harry,” Tinley called. “Can I drag Lane out on the dance floor?”

  Harry looked at both of them, thoughtfully. Then he directed his words to Lane. “Put on your jacket, go comb your hair, and blend in with the guests. And you,” he said, looking at Tinley, “keep your hands to yourself.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” she huffed.

  Harry stalked in closer. “You want to help out True Love, I’m all for that. But if you’re doing this to mess with your cousin’s happiness, then no, you can’t drag Lane out on the dance floor.”

  “Fine,” she grumbled at Harry as Lane went to put on his jacket. “But how do you know this is true love?”

  “How do you know it isn’t?”

  “Touché,” Lane said, as he came up behind Tinley and took her hand to lead her over to the ballroom.

  They walked into a party that was going full tilt. The dance floor was packed, and the band was rocking. Tinley took control and moved them into the center of the crowd where Lane tried not to be too
obvious about looking for Vivi.

  “Don’t worry,” Tinley said. “As soon as we spot them, we’ll work our way over in their direction.”

  “How do you know they’re on the dance floor? He could have her backed up against the wall somewhere,” Lane said, trying not to let the thought panic him.

  “Harv Michaels likes to dance. And Vivi’s good at it. That’s probably the reason he sought her out. Relax. Have fun. You’re just a kid for heaven’s sake. You having a crush on some teacher seems like a waste.”

  “She’s not just some teacher.”

  “Fine.” Tinley held up her hands and danced around him. “I’m not trying to change your mind or anything.” But when she backed into him, Lane wasn’t so sure about that. He pushed her off.

  “Just. Dancing,” he scolded.

  “You need a cover. A beard.”

  “I’ve done okay without one so far.”

  “Yes, but if anyone other than me saw the look on your face when Harv kissed Vivi-trust me-your secret would be out.”

  Lane couldn’t disagree. This Harv Michaels and his Rolex had changed the game. Raised the stakes. Lane reached out and took Tinley’s hand, twirling her under his arm. He pulled her closer as they danced. “Apparently Vivi was Kevin’s beard in college. She definitely didn’t like it.”

  “Yes, but I’m volunteering. Because I love my cousin.” Tinley smiled a cheesy smile up at him.

  “Hmm. Not sure I believe that.”

  “We DuVals are close.”

  “What’s in this for you?”

  “I get to tell everyone I’m dating Lane Kettering.”

  “No. Do not blast that we are dating all over Facebook.”

  “Then you’ll come to my prom. As my date.”

  “Not in a zillion years.”

  “Your prom, then. You’re going to need a cover at your prom. You certainly aren’t going to take Vivi.”

  If he’d heard that once, he’d heard it a thousand times. “Fine. As long as you know I’m not interested in you. If you want to play the part for Vivi’s sake, okay. I, ah, am going to need a prom date,” he sighed. “Someone who won’t flip Vivi out.”