A Flower for Angela

by Sandra Leesmith

  "No, rest here a few moments." With one hand pressing the back of her head, he pushed her against him again. "We've both had a rough go here. Let's just calm ourselves."

  His body shuddered, alerting her to the fact that he was as upset as she was.

  Without realizing it, she wrapped her arms around his back. His muscles flexed under her touch. His heartbeat sounded in her ear. She rested her damp cheek against the stubbled skin of his jaw.

  His arms tightened around her. She felt as if she could stay in his embrace forever and revel in the feeling of being cherished.

  "Angela, are you all right?" Mrs. Edwards's voice intruded on her fantasy.

  Angela quickly stepped away from Ricardo. She had only been accepting offered comfort, but would the principal think it was more than that?

  "She's had a rough day." The rich tones of Ricardo's voice vibrated in the room as he explained what had happened.

  "Oh my. We'd better file a report."

  With reluctance, Angela moved away from Ricardo's side. "If the insurance doesn't cover it, I'll pay for the damage."

  "Nonsense." Mrs. Edwards shook her head. "I'm sure it'll be taken care of. Just don't hold your breath, Mr. de la Cruz, because these things do take some time."

  "No problem,” Ricardo assured the flustered principal. "I already told Angela it was covered."

  Further argument became futile when Ricardo insisted they drop the issue.

  Resigned, Angela finally agreed. "I should get back to my class.”

  "Maria's watching them,” Mrs. Edwards reminded her.

  Angela's head was beginning to ache. What she really wanted was to go home.

  As if she’d read her mind, Mrs. Edwards suggested she do just that. "The bell's going to ring in a few minutes, anyway. Maria can dismiss your class."

  "It isn't necessary…” Angela began, but Mrs. Edwards insisted.

  "You look all done in. What you need is to go home right now and get some rest."

  "I can't leave now. I took the bus and—"

  "I'll take you." Ricardo interjected.

  "Good idea,” Mrs. Edwards piped up before Angela could protest. She turned to Angela. "You're always putting in extra hours. You deserve to go home early once in a while."

  "She's right, you know,” Ricardo said, a crooked smile on his face. "Let's go collect your things."

  "I'll let you take me home,” she conceded, “but I'm going to Maria's classroom first."

  A slight movement caught her eye. Lupe stood behind the counter witnessing the exchange between her and Ricardo. Terrific. That was all she needed.

  Quickly, Angela opened the door, more than ready to leave.

  "Angela—” Ricardo started to protest, but Angela cut him off.

  "The class is probably upset about what happened. I need to let the children know that everything is okay."

  "I'll walk you down then."

  ¡Caramba! The woman was stubborn. Falling into step beside her, he watched the sway of her hips. He could still feel her body against his.

  When they reached her classroom door, she paused and said with unexpected humor in her voice, "This could get emotional. Want to wait out here?"

  "I can take it." He grinned and followed her in.

  The noisy class fell silent when Angela stepped through the door. She spoke quietly as she reassured them and let them know they were to stay with Maria until they were dismissed.

  One of the children came flying out from the far corner of the room. She threw herself into Angela's arms so hard that Ricardo feared she’d knock Angela down. He braced her with a supporting hand on her waist while she bent to hug the small child.

  The girl burst into tears of relief, and Angela sat in a nearby chair and pulled her onto her lap. Ricardo ignored the “I-told-you-so” look she cast him while she reassured the child.

  He looked around him. The rest of the children shuffled toward Angela. She opened her arms to them.

  "There's nothing to be afraid of. Mr. de la Cruz and I know it was an accident."

  The children swarmed around Angela. A million questions poured forth, and Ricardo realized she had been right. They needed to see that their teacher was not angry.

  The students surrounded him, as well. He knelt down. Small arms wrapped around his neck as he held the ones who squeezed close.

  Their openness and neediness moved him. He glanced up and met Angela's gaze. Shared understanding passed between them. One child crawled onto his lap and tugged hard at his neck. Angela tried to keep a straight face at his predicament. The fact that children tugged and pulled on her, too, saved his sense of dignity. Patience and a sense of humor were definite requirements to have around this many children.

  It astonished him that they would be so uncertain of her reaction. Come to think of it, they should be. But the way she soothed them conquered their doubts and fears.

  Just as the students began to settle down, Ken came through the adjoining door. Amid the confusion, Ricardo managed to speak to his friend over the heads of the children.

  "Did you get the equipment picked up?"

  Ken nodded, rolling his eyes slightly, letting Ricardo know the extent of the damage. He'd worry about it later.

  "I'm taking Angela home. You can go on back to the station,” he told the cameraman.

  "I think I'll stick around for awhile. Maria might need some help."

  Ricardo looked closely at Ken. Did he detect a hint of interest for Angela's attractive teammate? No wonder Ken hadn’t protested doing him this favor all month.

  "Suit yourself,” he advised with a sigh. This project was turning into something neither of them had bargained for.

  THE DRIVE TO ANGELA'S passed quickly and in silence in the light traffic of early afternoon. He walked her to the door, preparing for the protest he knew she would make.

  "Thanks for bringing me home, Ricardo." She turned to smile goodbye after unlocking her apartment door. "And for being so helpful with everything at school."

  "I'm not through taking care of you yet,” he informed her as he took her elbow and gently but firmly guided her into the apartment. "I'm staying."

  The telltale flush on her cheeks tickled him. So the idea pleased her, too. But he wagered she wouldn’t admit it. He won the bet.

  "You don't need to stay." Her objection was weak. "I know you're busy."

  He gave her a mock stern look. "Your principal ordered rest. Direct me to the kitchen, and while you sit down and take off your shoes, I'll fix us something to drink."

  "You don't need to wait on me."

  "I could lie down with you." He leered at her playfully. He loved it when she blushed.

  "Really, Ricardo, I'm fine." She sank down on the velvet sofa.

  He knelt in front of her. Grasping a slender ankle, he pulled off her shoe. His hand slid part way up her silky calf to brace her foot on his lap. With firm strokes, he massaged the bottom of her foot. Her toes curled around his fingers and a gasp of pleasure escaped her lips. Ricardo watched her reaction with growing pleasure of his own.

  After massaging her other foot he lifted her legs onto the couch. He longed to remove her linen slacks and coral blouse and take her right then and there, but he wanted more from a relationship with her than just physical satisfaction. She was the type of woman who wouldn't appreciate fast moves, so he contented himself with observing her beauty.

  "You're spoiling me, you know,” she warned him as he fluffed up the pillows behind her.

  "And you love it.”

  "Uh-hmm,” she admitted before she closed her eyes.

  A lump formed in Ricardo's throat. She looked so inviting, reclining there as if she were waiting there for him. He wished that she was his. He cared for the woman.

  He cleared his throat. "How about if I make us some iced tea?" Maybe the cold drink would cool him down.

  "There's some iced tea in the fridge."

  "I'll get it."

  Rummaging around in her kitchen, h
e found the glasses. He took ice from the freezer and in another cupboard he located a bamboo tray. He noticed how neat and orderly she kept her belongings. Funny, he thought, she struck him as highly organized, yet her classroom seemed chaotic.

  There were those doubts and criticisms again. He didn't want them to interfere with his feelings for Angela. He resented that her job had to come between them.

  Ricardo lifted his frosted glass and held it against his forehead. The cool moisture from the condensation eased his headache. How could he resolve this untenable situation?

  "Find everything?" she called from the living room.

  "Sí. I'll be right in."

  With quick, deft movements, Ricardo dropped ice cubes into the glasses and poured the tea.

  "You have a nice place here." His hand shook as he passed her the glass of tea. She glanced up as the ice tinkled against the crystal.

  "Angela, we need to talk."

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm not changing my mind.”

  "I wasn’t going to ask you to. I want to understand what you're doing. What you said earlier makes sense. Our schools do have a high rate of failure."

  He set his iced tea on the coffee table and massaged his brow.

  "The high dropout rate is what prompted me to run for the board five years ago." He looked at her then continued. "It's especially high for Hispanics, you know."

  "Over fifty percent." She shook her head in sorrow. "It's a shame."

  Yes, he silently agreed. He had been a dropout himself, a cholo hanging around with a street gang. He'd bought into the role of a failure, at first. But he'd overcome his low self-esteem and wanted to help others do the same. It wasn't easy, but he was committed to devoting time and energy to improve the educational system in the barrio. Just as Angela was, in her own way.

  "You really care,” he commented—more to himself than to her. "You stood up to me over your cause today." He knelt in front of her and grasped her hands to emphasize his words. As he did so, he tried not to think about how much he wanted to kiss her. "You showed me, Angela. You opened my eyes to the fact that you may really have hit on something here."

  "Do you understand what it is?" she asked, hopefully.

  "I'm trying to." His look willed her to believe him. "I want you to show me—make me understand the validity of your program."

  Angela sat up, searching his eyes. Sincerity—and something more—radiated from their depths.

  “I'll teach you, Ricardo,"

  "Will it be that difficult? The way you're looking at me, I’d say you think the task is impossible."

  Couldn't he tell the look she was giving him was not one of skepticism but of relief—and joy? "No. It won't be that hard."

  He smiled and her heart melted. Reaching up, he smoothed the crease between her eyebrows.

  "You looked as if you weren't sure you could pull it off.”

  "I'm not certain. You have to admit, you can be hard-headed at times."

  "Me?" He rocked back on his heels.

  "You." She jabbed a finger at his chest.

  He grabbed her hand and brought her palm to his lips. "I may be difficult to teach, but I'm easy to love."

  Yes. He teased about making love, but she imagined loving Ricardo would be altogether too easy for her own good. "I doubt I could teach you anything about that."

  "I have a feeling you could teach me too much."

  "You're probably right. I am an expert.”

  "I want to kiss you, but I suppose we should wait until all this is over."

  My job. She didn't want to think about it now. In truth, she had forgotten all about her position. Ricardo could make her forget everything.

  "We have one more session, and then the following Friday is our conference with the professors. After that…" He shrugged, but there was promise in his eyes. Another trait she had discovered he possessed today—he had nerves of steel. Hers, on the other hand, felt like Jell-O pudding.

  "You have a one-track mind,” she accused as she leaned back from his embrace. A resigned expression settled across her features.

  He laughed. "Guilty, I'm afraid. And, around you, it definitely tracks in the wrong direction." A wry smile creased his cheek as he reached for his glass of iced tea. "So much for getting you to relax."

  "Maybe we should watch TV.” She pointed to the remote control on the table behind him.

  He picked it up and pressed the “On” button. The television, located against the far wall in a black lacquered cabinet, came on. The jingle of a pop com-mercial blared into the room. She grimaced.

  "You'd better sit over there,” she said, gesturing to a swivel chair several feet from the couch. His nearness would make any concentration on the screen impossible.

  "Do you think it’ll do any good?"

  She smiled and shook her head. "No. But it'll help."

  He sat in the chair and raised his glass in a toast. "One week to go, querida."

  CHAPTER 7

  QUERIDA. The Spanish word for "dear one" echoed over and over in her mind. The term was used by Hispanics among close friends but was also an endearment for lovers, and she could all too easily envision Ricardo whispering it in her ear as such.

  She mustn't think about that. It might never happen. But what of his toast? One week to go. He might as well have said that he was waiting for her. She shivered with nervous anticipation. What did he plan to do? And how would she react?

  All he had to do was cast a sexy look her way and she'd melt on the spot. If he touched her, she would be his.

  But she shouldn't allow intimacy to flourish between them. Their positions demanded they maintain a professional relationship. She couldn't face the prospect of another scandal like the one with Steve. She was established in her job, and her life was progressing the way she wanted… No, she didn’t want to jeopardize it all for a few moments of pleasure. Nevertheless, lately her emotions appeared to be overriding her logic.

  "She did it!"

  Glancing across the room, Angela took in the lights flashing and the music blaring from the television. The young contestant had just won the game show's top award. Angela looked over at Ricardo.

  The way he pumped his fist in the air, you’d think he had won instead of the contestant. His sportsman’s spirit compelled him to cheer another's victory.

  He turned and their gazes locked. He lowered his arm and leaned away to drain the last of his iced tea. Surely he didn't think that gesture would create a distraction? She held her breath.

  "Are you involved with someone else?" he startled her by asking.

  An invented involvement would be an easy out for her. Protection. She was about to say “yes” when his gaze faltered with a hint of what? Hurt, disappointment? Angela knew that feeling.

  "No,” she whispered.

  "I'm glad."

  "And you? Are you in a relationship?"

  He shook his head and stared meaningfully at her. "I'd like to be."

  She couldn't move or speak. Her eyes widened and her mouth parted in unconscious invitation.

  A sharp intake of breath alerted her to his sudden movement. Her gaze traveled up the long columns of his legs as he stood right in front of her. She could see his muscles tensing and flexing beneath his slacks.

  A bright plaid shirt covered his chest, but the open vee of its collar revealed smooth dark skin, drawing her gaze upward to see a crooked grin and black eyes that glimmered with amusement.

  "Do I pass?" He spoke with wry humor. "Do you like what you see?"

  She would have been affronted except that she knew he had perused her just as thoroughly.

  "You'll do." She smiled. In a rare mood of playful passion, she scooted against the pillows of the couch and patted the spot beside her. He paused for a second and then sat down.

  "I'm glad you think so." He cocked his head with pride.

  His assurance suddenly overwhelmed Angela. Her smile faded. She was very aware that he could hurt her.
r />   He traced a finger down her cheek but didn't make any further advances. "You see, I'm very interested in you. You're a remarkable woman."

  "I'm glad you approve," she mimicked his earlier response.

  He chuckled then and Angela laughed with him. The doubts faded away with their laughter, and, once again, they were staring into each other's eyes. Angela knew there was a very good reason to resist this man—but she couldn't think what it was right now.

  "I probably shouldn't be sitting here."

  "No." She shook her head but knew acquiescence was in her eyes.

  "I want to kiss you. Watching television didn't help."

  What could she say? Yes, kiss me? Love me? Her mouth ached from forcing it shut.

  There was too much heat in his gaze. "Do you think we could—" He cleared his throat.

  "No."

  His smile turned rueful. "You're right."

  Her fists clenched at her sides as she willed herself not to move when all she really wanted was to wrap her arms around him.

  She struggled to remember all the reasons she should want him to walk away, but her desire overruled every argument.

  He smiled and gathered her into his powerful arms. With ease, he lifted her so that she lay across his lap and braced her against his chest. "Let me hold you for a few minutes."

  "Just hold me?"

  "We can try it," he murmured into her hair.

  It felt right—too right—to be held by him; his touch was wreaking havoc in her. She stroked the hard muscles of his chest, fascinated by the solid feel of them. She slid her hand upward to curl her fingers around his neck. His pulse throbbed in the palm of her hand.

  Her upraised arm exposed her midriff. Ricardo placed a warm hand on the rise of her hip and then let it drift to the curve below her breast. His fingers gently massaged her side.

  "You're on fire," he commented, almost casually. But Angela knew his body was as feverish as hers.

  She closed her eyes as waves of longing rocked her. She needed to tell him that she wanted him, but insecurity kept her silent. She could feel the heat from his body burning her chest. But still his hand remained at her side.

  "Tell me that you want me," he murmured.