“Fine, talk to him. Let me know how that goes.” His tone was snide as he turned away.
She couldn’t let him go. “Has he been acting differently when he’s with you?”
“What do you mean? He’s perfectly normal.”
“I mean, like he’s upset or something. You know, about the divorce.” They’d talked about the effect of the divorce on the boys in the beginning, but since finalizing, that discussion was over.
“He’s fine when he’s at my place, Rachel.” He pointed a finger at her. “This is why you shouldn’t be out during the evenings, doing schoolwork or anything else. The boys need your undivided attention.”
“At least I’m not pushing off some twenty-five-year-old bimbo on them.”
He narrowed his eyes. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? That I’m seeing someone.”
“What this is about is your son being called into the principal’s office, and we’re damn lucky he didn’t get suspended. It’s not about whether I go back to school.” Or who she was fucking, for that matter. God forbid Gary should ever learn that. “Just go home to your girlfriend, Gary.” Shit, she shouldn’t have said that, but he made her mad. She tried to push a little calm into her voice. “I’ll talk to Nathan, and I’ll call you in the morning.”
“This isn’t about Sherry. They like Sherry.”
It even sounded like a bimbo name, but Rachel didn’t say anything negative. “They think she’s nice,” she said reasonably.
He sneered. “Don’t you try turning them against her.”
“I’m not.” But she wanted to smack him for the snide attitude. He was the one who’d left. Maybe it was his own guilty conscience talking. “Now, I’m going in to make dinner.”
Gary grunted and stomped back to his car.
Why had everyone started fighting? They should be settling into their new lives now. Instead, they’d all started sniping at one another, her, Gary, the boys.
But the worst? Her son’s principal was also her lover.
16
“WHAT HAPPENED, NATHAN?”
“Oh, so now you ask me. But not in front of him,” he groused.
Nathan was being contrary; she had asked him before they even went into the principal’s office. Fighting over it, however, wasn’t productive. “I didn’t ask when the principal was present because I didn’t want to embarrass you by sounding like I was giving you the third degree.” Actually, at the time, she’d been incapable of saying anything for fear of saying the wrong thing. Especially in front of Rand. She didn’t want to look stupid or inadequate.
Dinner had been a silent affair. Even Justin had eventually stopped chattering. Afterward, Rachel did the dishes, left Justin to the remainder of his homework, and followed Nathan’s tracks to his room. She heard his voice on the phone when she knocked, but when she entered, he’d already hung up and was hunched at the computer.
Rachel sat on the end of his bed. “Would you please look at me while we talk?”
He toed his feet on the carpet to swivel around to her. “I didn’t see that kid. I knocked into him, and he dropped his tray. That’s all.” He glared at her.
She knew he’d rehearsed that lie. “Principal Torvik says you called the boy a name.” There was something about giving Rand the title that made her pulse flutter. Then again, it could simply be that he was her secret vice.
Nathan looked away. “I don’t remember what I said.”
She wouldn’t call him a liar. All she said was, “Nathan.”
He shrugged, strongly enough to toss his short hair. “I might have said something. Because I was pissed that he got right in front of me like that.”
“What did you say?”
His shoulders went up, down. He pressed his lips together, scowled. “I don’t know, it might not have been too nice, but it was in the heat of the moment, not a deliberate thing like that dickhead Torvik said.”
“You’re already in trouble for using demeaning names, so don’t make it worse.” She was sure he’d said what Rand claimed he had. “Calling people names is unacceptable. Especially people who are less fortunate.”
He made a face, hung his head. “I won’t do it again, Mom.”
Now he was simply placating her. “There have to be consequences, Nathan. You’re grounded this weekend. No going out with your friends.”
“But, Mom, there’s a game Friday night.”
“What game?”
“Basketball.” He cleared his throat. “You gotta watch the guys play and figure out how they work together and everything to get on the team.”
“Have I met any of these guys?” She knew she hadn’t; she’d been remiss. They were the bad influences Rand had mentioned.
Nathan made a noise in his throat. “No,” he said, his voice sullen again. “You’re working. You can’t even come to after-school stuff. How are you supposed to meet anyone I know anymore?”
His freshman year, she’d gone to all his polo matches, but now she was working. And Nathan was playing the blame game with her. Rachel wanted to bury her face in her hands. What was the right thing to do, the right thing to say?
“Your father and I will make it to a game and meet everyone.” Nathan opened his mouth. She cut him off with a frown. “But you aren’t going out this weekend.”
“Mom,” he whined, “I have to go to every game or I won’t make it onto the team next year.”
Part of her wanted to say he could go just so she could tag along and evaluate these new friends of his, see if Rand was right about their negative influence, but actions had to have consequences. “You should have thought of that before you got angry that someone else was in your way.”
She was almost through the door when he called out. “Mom. I have my driving lesson on Saturday at ten. Do I get to do that?”
Right thing, wrong thing. Was the lesson a class or a privilege? God, she didn’t know anymore, but they’d already paid for it. “You can take it.”
He made a noise. She thought it was triumph.
In the family room, she turned on the TV just to have sound while the boys finished their homework. What was she supposed to do about Rand? Of course, she’d have to stop seeing him. She definitely couldn’t be caught at his house watching his neighbors have sex. What a scandal. It was dangerous. He could lose his job. The whole thing was crazy.
But oh God, she was going to miss him.
* * *
RAND SUSPECTED THERE WAS AN ISSUE WHEN SHE DIDN’T CALL Thursday night, followed by no call Friday or Saturday. When she showed up at his house at seven-thirty on Sunday wearing jeans and a jacket she wouldn’t take off, he knew she was cutting him loose. He was only surprised she didn’t send a Dear John email.
“I’m sure you’ll agree,” she said, her voice as stiff as her back, “it’s for the best under the circumstances.”
“I don’t agree.”
Her mouth actually dropped open. “What do you mean?” She was cute when she gaped.
“We’ll have a glass of wine and talk about it.”
She snorted. “I can’t be seen here.”
“There’s no one to see us, Rachel.”
“Your neighbors. People talk. It could get around.”
He took her arm, steered her toward the kitchen. Like a child, she let him lead her.
“What will get around?” he asked as he took down glasses from the cupboard. “That we’ve been keeping company?”
She looked at him like he’d just been released from Bedlam. “That we watched your neighbors have sex. That we had sex on the hood of your car up on Skyline. And we made a movie.”
He wasn’t sure which to tackle first, so he did them all at once as he poured her wine. “We gave my neighbors the audience they wanted, we had sex on my car in the dark when no one was around, and we didn’t put out a YouTube video. We made a private movie for ourselves.” He smiled. “Did you bring the video card?”
She snorted. “No, I didn’t bring it. And I don’
t need any wine. I told you I can’t stay.” She glared at him.
He’d seen her overcome with desire. He’d seen her dreamy. He’d seen her in orgasm, and he’d seen her unsure and lost in his office. By far, however, the glare was the best. It made him hot. Better not tell her that, though. She didn’t appear to have her sense of humor about her at the moment.
Besides, he was minimizing her concerns. “Come into the living room. We can talk about Nathan, too.”
She scowled. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about him. If he knew I was seeing you…” She puffed her cheeks out in imitation of a major explosion.
“I know, he hates my guts.” He carried the two wineglasses through the kitchen into the living room.
She followed, took the wine, sat next to him on the sofa, then downed a long swallow. “I wouldn’t put it that strongly.”
“I would.” He hadn’t handled Nathan well. He’d heard what the boy said and blown a gasket, effectively humiliating Nathan in front of his peers. Teenagers were pretty damn unforgiving about that. But Wally was a tender soul, and Rand couldn’t hack the way Nathan spoke to him.
“I’ll handle Nathan,” she said. “He’s not why I’m here.”
Right. So they’d talk about Nathan later. “Okay. You’re here to say we can’t see each other anymore. And I’m telling you there’s no reason we shouldn’t.”
She shook her head at him. “You could get fired.”
“No one’s going to fire me for having sex, Rachel.”
“But I’m a mother.”
She was so serious, he couldn’t laugh. “You are not the first single parent to date a single teacher.”
“We’re not dating,” she rushed to answer, her voice rising. “We’re fucking, and watching other people fuck, and doing it on the hood of your car.”
He smiled. “I love it when you say fuck.”
“Stop that.” But she laughed, then covered her mouth. “This isn’t funny.”
He pulled her hand down, tipped her chin with his finger. “We haven’t done anything I’m ashamed of. Just because I’m your son’s principal doesn’t mean you should suddenly be ashamed either. While being a mother is the most important job a woman could have, that doesn’t mean you’re not also a beautiful, sexy lady who deserves more than a vibrator.”
She looked away, took up her wine again, drank, then curled her fingers around the stem. “I can’t explain it except to say that we’re kinky. If we weren’t kinky, it wouldn’t be so bad.”
“So, if we were just having missionary sex in a bed, it would be okay to tell your son you’re seeing me.”
“No.” She gave him a look. “I don’t want my sons to think casual sex is fine.”
“I agree. Nathan is fifteen years old, and casual sex isn’t a good idea at his age. But I’m forty years old and—”
“And I’ll be forty in August.” She pressed her lips together. Nathan often did exactly the same thing. “But that’s not the point. Kids don’t differentiate.”
“So it’s better to just lie to them about what adults do.”
“You’re twisting my words.”
“There are differences between adults and teenagers, Rachel. They’ve got to learn that, too.”
She growled, set aside her wine, stood, walked away, then turned. “You’re college-educated, a teacher and a principal, for God’s sake, so I don’t expect to win any debates with you. It’s just fact that we can’t see each other anymore. Period.”
She waited for him to say something. He’d never begged a woman to stay. The end of his relationships were always mutual. Sometimes nothing needed to be said. But he didn’t want Rachel to leave. He hadn’t explored everything he wanted to with her. He liked her, admired her, wanted her. It wasn’t love. He wasn’t sure he believed in love. But he believed in the law of attraction. He was a teacher, and she was the student in whom he saw immense potential. He couldn’t bear letting that potential go to waste. He couldn’t bear letting her go.
“Nathan never has to know about us, Rachel. No one does. We’re consenting adults. What we do is our business.” He rose. She let him approach without bolting, allowed him to take her hand. “I don’t want you to leave yet. We aren’t done. There’s so much more to come.” He dropped his voice to little more than a whisper. “You need it as much as I do.”
Her skin flushed. Against his palm, her hand heated. She smelled like freshly picked flowers and hot, needy woman. If he put his hand between her legs, he knew she’d be wet.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
She did know, but she wasn’t ready yet.
“Think about it,” he urged.
“I’ve been thinking about it.”
“Think about it tonight. Then call me tomorrow.”
He imagined taking her sweet, lush lips, but he didn’t. Unfair advantage.
She stepped back. He let her go. She looked at him over her shoulder as she left the room. He’d hoped she’d decide right then. Giving her more time might be the death knell.
Then again, tonight she would be alone in her house, alone in her bed. She wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about him. Just as he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about her.
17
IT WASN’T FAIR. WHEN SHE SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN THINKING about Rand at all, Rachel was consumed with wanting to know everything about him, why he’d become an educator, if he loved his job, what his triumphs had been, what he’d regretted, why he’d never married or had kids of his own when obviously he had to love kids. The fervency with which she wanted to know these things was somehow more intimate than merely wanting sex.
Monday night, it took five tries to get the damn garage door opener to work. She focused on her anger rather than on Rand. Tuesday, the remote worked. With nothing to grouse about, thoughts of Rand came back full force. God, she missed sex with him, missed his voice late at night. She wanted to cry on his shoulder about Nathan, confide that she didn’t know what to do. It was awful, weak.
She couldn’t talk to him, of course. The two parts of her life had to remain separate. She couldn’t mix them, or the boundaries would get skewed.
She suddenly realized she was thinking like Rand, that their sex life was their business. Not her sons’. Not Gary’s. Not the school board’s or the teachers’ or the students’. She picked up her phone and punched in his number. Like she wanted to show them that she wasn’t going to let anyone run her life or tell her what to do.
Rand answered, and his voice was so good, her heart hurt just to hear it. She hung up because it was insane to want him this badly.
By Wednesday, she was so crazy for an orgasm, for him, that she didn’t care anymore.
“You called last night,” he said, not allowing her the first word.
“Here are the rules,” she told him. There had to be guidelines to keep herself in check. “You talk dirty to me and make me come. We don’t talk about Nathan or anything that has to do with the other parts of our lives. Agreed?”
“So this is just a phone thing.”
She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t commit. She just needed him now. “Tonight is tonight. We’ll talk about what’s going to happen later”—she paused—“later.” She was being needy and sounding bitchy. If he’d said that to her, she’d have slammed the phone down.
“Agreed,” he finally said.
Oh, thank you, thank you. “Tell me a fantasy.”
She was naked on the bed, her skin warmed, her body wet, her nipples peaked.
“I’ve been watching you for weeks,” he said. “I want you, but I have to figure out how to get to you.”
Her flesh hummed to the rhythm of his voice, the deep tones. For now, she simply ran her fingers lightly over her body, her breasts, abdomen, thighs. “Mmm” was all she said to keep him going.
“You’re in the penthouse, and it’s a fortress up there. I imagine storming it, and taking you, holding you down, forcing my cock inside you. I’m crazy with thinking abou
t it.”
He had so many variations on the theme. A stranger wanting her from afar. Then not so far, and finally taking her, forcing her. “I’ve noticed a man watching me,” she told him fretfully. “I come home and bolt all the doors.”
He went with it. “But I’ll get to you,” he murmured, then dropped his voice. “I have a plan.”
She hadn’t known a man could love fantasy like this. She’d thought the male psyche was mostly visual, needing pictures, but Rand loved talking, loved hearing her spin a fantasy as she touched herself, then cried out her pleasure. “I’m so afraid. I sense you out there sometimes.”
“And you dream that I’ll breach your walls.”
God, yes, she wanted him right here in her bedroom. She wanted him to breach her. She spread her legs, caressed her inner thighs. He made her love the slow build. “I do dream about it, but it’s just a fantasy. You can’t reach me.”
“You think you’re so safe that you leave the balcony doors open, never dreaming anyone could scale your walls.”
She imagined the penthouse, the dark night, a light breeze ruffling the curtains, the air currents blowing across her body, caressing her as she lay naked in her bed. Her fingers became the breeze, wafting through her pubic curls, teasing her breasts. “I imagine I can see someone on the balcony, but I know it’s only my imagination.”
“I’ve climbed that wall, and I’m watching you through the French doors. You’re on the bed touching yourself. You have no idea I can see everything, how wanton you are, how you touch your pretty pussy, the one I’ve been dreaming of.”
She moaned, rolling her finger over her clit. “I’m safe in here, but I’m so wet imagining a stranger is watching.” She played into his potent words. With her eyes closed and only his voice in her ear, the scenario was almost real in her mind.
“You’re not even aware of me when I part the curtains. You’re on the bed, touching yourself, caressing, moaning, and Christ, it makes me as hard as iron.” His voice dipped down to a whisper. “I watch you.”
In her mind’s eye, he was standing over her, salivating. Her clit was hard beneath her fingers, heat radiating out, rushing along the surface of her skin, tingling in her toes.
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