The Principal's Office
Page 1
Praise for the novels of
Jasmine Haynes
“Deliciously erotic and completely captivating.”
—Susan Johnson, New York Times bestselling author
“An erotic, emotional adventure of discovery you don’t want to miss.”
—Lora Leigh, #1 New York Times bestselling author
“So incredibly hot that I’m trying to find the right words to describe it without having to be edited for content…extremely stimulating from the first page to the last! Of course, that means that I loved it!…One of the hottest, sexiest erotic books I have read so far.”
—Romance Reader at Heart
“Sexy.”
—Sensual Romance Reviews
“Delightfully torrid.”
—Midwest Book Review
“More than a fast-paced erotic romance, this is a story of family, filled with memorable characters who will keep you engaged in the plot and the great sex. A good read to warm a winter’s night.”
—Romantic Times
“Bursting with sensuality and eroticism.”
—In the Library Reviews
“The passion is intense, hot, and purely erotic…recommended for any reader who likes their stories realistic, hot, captivating, and very, very well written.”
—Road to Romance
“Not your typical romance. This one’s going to remain one of my favorites.”
—The Romance Studio
“Jasmine Haynes keeps the plot moving and the love scenes very hot.”
—Just Erotic Romance Reviews
“A wonderful novel…Try this one—you won’t be sorry.”
—The Best Reviews
Berkley titles by Jasmine Haynes
THE PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE
WHAT HAPPENS AFTER DARK
PAST MIDNIGHT
MINE UNTIL MORNING
HERS FOR THE EVENING
YOURS FOR THE NIGHT
FAIR GAME
LACED WITH DESIRE
(with Jaci Burton, Joey W. Hill, and Denise Rossetti)
UNLACED
(with Jaci Burton, Joey W. Hill, and Denise Rossetti)
SHOW AND TELL
THE FORTUNE HUNTER
OPEN INVITATION
TWIN PEAKS
(with Susan Johnson)
SOMEBODY’S LOVER
THE
PRINCIPAL’S
OFFICE
Jasmine Haynes
HEAT
New York
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
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(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2012 by Jennifer Skullestad.
Cover photograph: “Tied Feet” (#2496578) Shutterstock.
Cover design by Diana Kolsky.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
HEAT and the HEAT design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Heat trade paperback edition / February 2012
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Haynes, Jasmine.
The principal’s office / Jasmine Haynes.
p. cm.
EISBN: 9781101572306
1. Divorced women—Fiction. 2. Mothers and sons—Fiction. 3. School principals—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3608.A936P75 2012
813.6—dc22
2011037773
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To Rita, for all her enthusiasm
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to my special network of friends who support me, brainstorm with me, and encourage me: Bella Andre, Shelley Bates, Jenny Andersen, Jackie Yau, Ellen Higuchi, Kathy Coatney, Pamela Fryer, Rosemary Gunn, and Laurel Jacobson. And of course, to my agent, Lucienne Diver, and my editor, Wendy McCurdy.
Table of Contents
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
About the Author
PROLOGUE
THE PRETTY BLONDE STARED INTO THE REFRIGERATED JUICE section, like a child in front of a candy store window seeing the very thing she wanted and knew she couldn’t have.
She was perfect.
Rand was relatively new to the area, having moved here to start a job last fall, five months ago. But even so, he didn’t prowl grocery stores early on Saturday mornings looking for women. He’d needed a couple of items and didn’t like waiting in line, so he’d stopped after his run along the canal.
Then he saw her. It was fortune smiling down on him, the law of attraction at work.
Her blond hair fluttered just past her shoulders. Her pretty profile showcased full ruby lips and long lashes several shades darker than her hair. The tight white T-shirt outlined mouthwatering breasts that were more than even his big hands could hold, and her jeans hugged the delectable curve of her ass. She wasn’t too thin, yet was well taken care of. Best of all, there was no ring on her finger. He never amused himself with married women. He came from a long line of players, marriage being no barrier whatsoever between them and the objects of their desire. He wasn’t about to be like any of them.
She was no sweet young thing, but closer to his age—forty—or possibly a couple of years younger. He preferred his partners to be older, seasoned, more sure of themselves, of who they were and what they wanted. Women who were old enough to appreciate trying something new, something daring.
; He was as staid as they come during work hours, with a position that required a quiet, unwavering authority, steadfast diplomacy, and a hell of a lot of psychology. But after hours, his life was his own business. After hours, anything goes.
He smiled as she finally made up her mind and reached for the fridge door. Her breasts plumped with the movement.
Oh yeah, he’d love to get daring with her.
RACHEL STARED AT THE ROWS AND ROWS OF JUICE BOTTLES. SHE was a frugal shopper, buying only what was on sale, because in her mind, the sale price was the real price, and anything else meant you were overpaying. She lived for coupons. Penny-pinching was the only way she could make ends meet. Sure, her ex paid half the boys’ expenses since they had dual custody, but the cost of living in the San Francisco Bay Area was astronomical, gas prices had once again skyrocketed, and cable TV and high-speed Internet, not to mention the boys’ cell phones, just might bankrupt her. She had a full-time job she enjoyed, with excellent medical benefits, but she was a receptionist. Her salary barely covered standard monthly expenses. Her ex, an accountant, was the real breadwinner. Their house was underwater so they hadn’t been able to unload it during the divorce settlement, and they were still waiting for the market to recover. In the meantime, she lived in it. The boys were with her every other week; teenage boys could eat you out of house and home. For the most part, she made healthy home-cooked meals and only occasionally brought home fast food. It would have been cheaper to buy soda for the boys to drink, but she did her damnedest to make sure they learned good eating habits.
So she wanted that juice, which was on sale at half off, plus she had a coupon. Wouldn’t you know, though, the last bottle had twisted at the top of the rollers, stuck fast, and there wasn’t a grocery clerk in sight to help her out. Well, she was not going to be bested by a damn juice bottle. Yanking open the refrigerator door, she put a foot on the rubberized track, grabbed the edge of the shelf, hauled herself up, and stretched until her fingers just brushed the plastic bottle. If she could knock it a little, dislodge it…
“Let me help.”
The male voice was deep enough to send a delicious shiver down her spine. She would have gotten out of his way, but she felt him along her side as he leaned into the fridge door with her. His hand on the small of her back set a flame burning low in her belly. She couldn’t have moved if her life depended on it. Oh no, this was too good to miss. With barely a stretch, he straightened the bottle and set it rolling down the tracks to her waiting hand.
She was breathless when she turned to look up, and up some more. He was close enough to make her eyes cross, and she couldn’t focus sufficiently to take in more than cropped blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and a square, smooth-shaven jaw.
“Thank you” was all she could manage. She didn’t want him to move. It had been so long since she’d felt a man this near, breathed in his pure male scent, musky with testosterone and clean workout sweat.
He stepped back out of the fridge slowly, his body caressing the length of hers for what seemed like an eternity, until his heat was replaced by the cool blast of refrigerated air.
“My pleasure,” he said in that deep voice, setting her blood rushing through her veins.
She was so used to her ex’s average height that, even though she was five-foot-five, this man made her feel petite. Tall and broad, he was a Viking who’d just stepped off his ship. Except for the all-black running outfit. Tight black jogging pants encased his muscled thighs, and the black Lycra shirt framed his powerful chest. She was staring, probably even drooling. In days of old, yeah, he’d have been a Viking or a knight. These days, a cop or a fireman. Or a corporate raider.
The man made her remember how long it had been since she’d had sex. With the divorce and all the stuff that went before, it had been two years. Two years. She’d been so busy and worried, she’d hardly noticed. Until this man had stood close to her, awakened her.
She realized she must have been staring at him like he was an ice cream cone she was dying to lick.
Too bad she couldn’t afford a relationship right now.
“Well, thanks again.” With great effort, she tore her eyes away and grabbed her shopping cart. A man was the last thing she needed in her life. She had enough trouble managing her sons—teenage boys were murder—not to mention her ex. No sirree Bob, she did not need a man.
Yet she allowed herself one last glance over her shoulder as she wheeled her cart down the meat aisle. He was watching. His gaze turned her hot inside and out.
No, she didn’t need another man in her life. But she sure wouldn’t mind a little casual sex. At the very least, the Viking was something to fantasize about.
EVERYTHING HAPPENED FOR A REASON. HE’D COME TO THIS STORE at this time; it had to be to see her. He was a believer in the law of attraction. If you wanted it badly enough, it would come to you, whatever it was. He’d felt the sizzle of her body against his, sensed her desire in the quickening of her breath and the perfume of her hormones. So, when he started his engine as she was exiting the grocery store with her full cart and a young clerk trailing in her wake to load the haul into her minivan, he didn’t feel any need to get her phone number or give her his. Law of attraction: He’d find her again.
Or she’d find him.
1
RACHEL DELANEY TUCKED THE GROCERY RECEIPT IN HER accordion file on the kitchen counter. She hadn’t broken the piggy bank, but who the hell would ever have thought that canned kidney beans with no added salt would cost three times as much as beans with salt? Fewer ingredients costs more to manufacture? Wasn’t it just a matter of keying a different recipe into the assembly line? Whatever, her goal was making sure the boys ate healthy when they were with her because they sure didn’t when Gary had them.
They were still sleeping when she’d arrived home, so Rachel had carted the groceries in, put them away, and started breakfast. She didn’t like wasting the weekends she had with the boys on chores, so she rose early to get the grocery shopping out of the way. She certainly didn’t need to go to a gym before they woke up either; she got all the aerobic workout she needed running around at breakneck speed so she could accomplish everything and still have time with Justin and Nathan. She and Gary had dual custody, one week on, one week off. She’d have the boys until Sunday after supper, at which time she’d drive them over to Gary’s. He had an apartment only a couple of miles away. Wherever they were staying, the boys were close to school.
It was a gorgeous day. January in the Bay Area was usually sunny, though this January had seen its fair share of rain. But on this last Saturday of the month, the sun streamed through the kitchen window as she whipped up the eggs and vanilla for French toast. Okay, not such a healthy breakfast, but it was a once-a-month-only treat. Sometimes you had to give kids a treat or they rebelled against anything that was good for them.
Just as she knew it would, the scent of cooking that wafted down the hallway soon garnered sounds from the bedroom end of the house. In his horrific The Walking Dead zombie pajamas, Justin led the charge like a bull elephant rather than with a zombielike shuffle. His short brown hair was askew, his face still creased with sleep lines from his pillow. At thirteen he was the shortest in his eighth-grade class and hated it.
“Did you get maple syrup, Mom?”
“Yes, honey. It’s on the table.” Rachel flipped a thick piece of French toast. Maple syrup was god-awful expensive, but what was the point of eating French toast without it? If you were going to be bad, do it with gusto.
In sweats and a torn T-shirt, his identically cut brown hair as mussed as Justin’s, Nathan shuffled into the kitchen with a typical zombie growl. He should have been the one wearing The Walking Dead pajamas. He’d had a growth spurt over the last summer just before he started his sophomore year in high school, and he now topped his father’s five-foot-ten frame. She hoped the same would come for Justin.
She slapped two pieces of French toast onto their plates. Justin grabbed his, and Nathan did t
he same, though at a much slower pace.
“You’re welcome,” she said.
“Thanks, Mom,” Justin answered as he slid into his place at the table on the other side of the kitchen island.
“Thanks,” Nathan echoed, albeit grudgingly.
Rachel told herself his attitude was due to still being half-asleep, even at just past nine in the morning. But she knew that wasn’t the reason. Since the divorce, Nathan had become difficult.
She set another batch of egg-and-vanilla-coated bread in the hot pan. The boys were on their second helping by the time she sat down to eat her first.
“Dad said that if I kept my GPA above a three-point-five,” Nathan said around a full mouth, “and I pass the driver’s test with no errors, he’ll let me have his car in the summer when he buys a new one.”
“Please don’t talk with your mouth full.” The response was automatic, and not for the first time, she cursed inwardly at her ex. Sure, Gary offered the car, but he expected her to pay half the cost for the driving school and the insurance. She’d asked him not to talk to Nathan about it until she’d figured out where she’d come up with the extra money.
Nathan would be sixteen at the end of May, but they still hadn’t gotten his driver’s permit. She was putting it off as long as she could.
“You know, it would take a load off you, Mom. I could run Justin around so you wouldn’t have to.”
She almost laughed out loud. Right. As soon as he got that license and his dad’s car, he’d be off with his friends.
“Honey, thanks very much for the offer, but it’s only a ten-minute walk to school. Justin doesn’t need you to run him around. I already told you that I can’t afford the class and the insurance yet. I need to get more settled in my job.”
Another zombie growl rumbled low in Nathan’s throat.
Before the divorce, which had become final at the beginning of September, she’d been a homemaker. She didn’t have a college education or the computer skills required for something higher paying, but she’d managed to find a decent job as a receptionist at DeKnight Gauges, which was only a short drive from the house. There was opportunity at DKG; she was honing those computer skills she was lacking in. But right now, ends didn’t always meet. Thank God Gary paid the mortgage and half the expenses for the boys or she didn’t know what she’d have done.