She looked into his eyes. Within their depths lurked desire and… vulnerability.
"Yes, I want you."
He groaned.
Unable to bear the sound of it, she covered his mouth with her fingers. "Don't."
He grasped her fingers in his hand. "Does it bother you that I'm in misery?"
She empathized with him. "I don't want you to hurt."
The sincerity in her voice brought a look of tenderness into his gaze. He placed her hand on his heart. "Mi corazón," he whispered. "Querida." He brushed her cheek and then traced her lips with his fingers.
Unable to stand any more of the teasing contact, she ran her fingers through his wavy hair. She stilled his restless movements by offering her lips, demanding a kiss.
Wanting to please her, he had tried to move slowly. Now her passion swept him away. He could no longer hold back, and with a groan, he lowered his lips to hers.
His kiss deepened. His fingers trembled as they slid around her. Her quivers made the agony of waiting worthwhile. He tried to be gentle, but his hands shook with the effort.
She moaned and, afraid he had hurt her, he let go and reached around her to press her pliant body to his heart.
"I'm sorry," he murmured into her neck.
"No, I'm okay," she reassured him as she kneaded the tense muscles in his shoulders.
"I know I shouldn't have done that, but I had to have one kiss from you."
"It wasn’t entirely your fault. I wanted it too."
But one kiss wasn't enough for her any more than it was for him.
He pulled back to look at her. Dampened tendrils of hair lay across her forehead and splayed out, framing her face. Desire was evident in her eyes—and something else that was indefinable.
"You make me feel so…" she confessed in a husky whisper. "It frightens me."
"I would never hurt you," he promised as he brushed back the blonde wisps of her hair. Her honesty touched him, even as it evoked his own fears.
With a start, he realized Angela could all too easily break down the protective wall that for years he'd hidden his inner self behind—a wall so thick that sometimes he couldn’t penetrate it himself.
Strangely on the defensive now, Ricardo gently pulled away from her, managing to settle her back on the couch before he stood. The muscles constricted around his heart as he watched her smile fade, to be replaced by a look of confusion.
"We're not ready for this," he told her. Pain clouded her eyes. He wanted to bend down and hold her, at least clasp her hand, but he dared not touch her. "We could make love now. We both want to. But where would that leave us?"
"You mean, how would we deal with each other tomorrow at school?"
"Exactly." He jumped at the excuse. "Things are moving much too fast between us. Sex now would make it damned awkward in front of the camera." That wasn't his real reason, but it was what he could tell her now.
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Ricardo could have kicked himself. But as he stood looking at her, he knew how things had gotten so out of hand. She didn’t flaunt it, but she exuded a subtle sexuality that had invited his caress. His body ached with the pain of wanting her now, this very moment, on the couch, or the floor—anywhere.
"I'd better go." He raked unsteady fingers through the hair that she had tousled.
Angela sat up and reached out a hand for his help to stand. "I'll see you to the door."
"No." He backed away with an exaggerated swagger as false as his composure. "Stay there and rest. I know the way."
To avoid her reaction, he went to the door. The walls seemed to close in around him and an intense urge to flee hastened his steps.
"Sleep well." He had to turn for one last glance at her as he spoke the words.
"You, too," she called.
When he saw the white-gold cloud of hair billowing around her face and watched the rise and fall of her curves as she breathed, he knew he would never be able to close his eyes in sleep that night. The tremulous smile that softened her features promised that a long cold shower was in store for him when he got home. And the sooner the better.
THE FOLLOWING WEEK dragged on torturously. Every spare minute, Ricardo had to fight the urge to call Angela. Immersing himself in work didn't help. The nights were the most difficult. Memories of her touch haunted his dreams.
With mixed emotions, Ricardo faced their final taping session. The project was almost finished, and he wanted the day to come and go before he went mad. He dreaded being in such close proximity to Angela. Could he maintain his professional demeanor?
When their last Monday finally arrived, he found it as difficult as he'd imagined it would be. It only took ten minutes in her presence to know it wasn't going to work. His concentration scattered with every sound of her voice, every whiff of her perfume and every glimpse of her face.
All he could think about was the way she'd tasted—so sweet—when he kissed her, the magic touch of her hands on his body, and her soft pliancy beneath his fingers. He thought only about how much he wanted her until a discreet cough from Ken or a burst of laughter from a child brought him back to the job at hand.
He suspected that she suffered as much as he did. Eyes that reflected the turquoise blue of her dress clouded with longing whenever he captured her glance. If he came near, she startled, or if he spoke, she flushed.
Angela attempted to alleviate the tension by putting him to work.
"The class is divided into groups," she explained. "Each group has to put their worms in different environments. Could you discuss with this group their expectations and the procedures they are following?"
"Sure." The task sounded sophisticated for a first grade class, but he was beginning to acknowledge and appreciate their capabilities.
"I'm putting my worms in the refrigerator where it's cold," one child announced.
"I'll put mine by the heater," stated another. "It could die in the cold."
"We won't know unless we try. Teacher says we have to ‘sperment.”
In seconds, Ricardo’s group commanded his full attention. Their predictions about what would happen to the worms were amazingly sound. Their ability to practice the scientific process impressed Ricardo, but the exercise didn’t last long enough. After the group had recorded their experiments in their notebooks, they went off to pursue other projects. Left on his own again, Angela dominated his thoughts.
He swore under his breath. How could this woman haunt him so?
"What's the matter?" Smirking, Ken came to stand beside him. "Your mind's wandering."
"It’s that obvious?"
"The two of you—" he nodded towards Angela "—have this room steaming."
"Drop it, Ken," Ricardo warned his colleague.
Ken backed off in a hurry. "Okay, okay. I didn’t see a thing."
Ricardo massaged his forehead. Only ten o'clock. They'd been here half an hour and the tension between him and Angela had them all on edge. He resented it. Besides which, he knew he couldn't continue like this.
"Stay here and tape the rest of the day," he ordered Ken, deciding to leave the strained atmosphere of the classroom and return to the station.
Distance didn't help. He buried himself in projects at the television station but by four o'clock, he found himself gunning the powerful motor of his Ferrari in front of the modern-looking school.
There'd been a lot of changes in the system over the past five years. He took pride in having been on the governing board that had demanded the new buildings. Of course, he hadn't agreed with everything they had instituted. Still, he was impressed with the status of the school facilities. If only the problems of curriculum were as easy to solve, but at least the district was allowing the implementation of several innovative new programs. He thought of Angela's class and how hard her students worked.
"What happened to you?" Angela's voice outside his car startled him.
"Something turned up. I had to return to the station."
"Anything
wrong?" she asked.
"No," he said evasively. "Ken gave me the tape of what I missed."
"Will you go over it later?"
"Tonight," he promised as he patted the cassettes on the seat beside him. He watched relief replace the concern on her face. "Can I drive you home?"
"Thanks. It's been a long day."
"Maybe I can do something about that." Ricardo put the cassettes in the glove box and reached across the seat to open the door for her. "We could go to my house. I have a Jacuzzi."
"Sounds wonderful." She sat down and her perfume wafted toward him. "But not tonight. After what happened between us last time, I don't think it would be a good idea to be alone together like that." She leaned against the headrest, a frown marring her features.
So, the tension had disturbed her, too. She probably guessed why he'd really left.
"Will you spend the weekend with me?" His impulsive request astonished him as much as it did her. "We'll take it slow," he added quickly. He wouldn't want her any other way.
“I'd like that.” She smiled at him even as doubt lingered in her eyes, so he didn't give her a chance to reconsider.
"After the meeting on Friday," he specified. "Sure you don't want to reconsider and come home with me now?" he teased with a sexy grin.
"I'm sure." She laughed.
"Friday then?" As he drove, he imagined rearranging his daily schedule to pick her up and take her home with him every day, where he could massage away the day's hassles, and soothe her tensions with a hot whirlpool bath.
When this is over, he promised himself. He watched her walk toward her apartment and didn't feel too disappointed. Friday was only four days away.
ON FRIDAY MORNING, Angela was less tense than she had been for a while. That was good because with the professors coming at one o'clock, she needed to be calm. They deserved her best efforts in return for the time and energy they had contributed to the development of the whole language program.
Looking around the conference room that afternoon, Angela was filled with satisfaction. Confident that Ricardo would now fully understand her goals, she introduced the university staff.
"Each professor represents a part of the curriculum," she explained to Ricardo. "But Math, Science, and Social Studies are all integrated with the reading and writing processes in a holistic approach.
"We don't teach each subject separately—you know, math for an hour, science for an hour, and so on." She began pacing at the head of the table, her high heels clicking on the hardwood floor. "We try to integrate all of the subjects into a meaningful whole."
"You need to clarify what exactly you mean by ‘whole,’" Ricardo interjected.
Angela studied him, staring into his jet black eyes. His relaxed expression didn't waver but held firm. For a moment, she envied him his calm demeanor. Could she maintain her own composure?
"Take, for example, the concept of environment we're studying." She gestured broadly with her hands as enthusiasm for her subject built. "That has usually been either a science or a social studies unit. We've used it as both."
"But as you've seen from the students’ work,” Dr. Wheeler spoke up, "Miss Stuart has also included math, writing and reading within the unit."
"Remember the girls measuring their plants?" Angela jumped back into the discussion. Surely he would relate to this. "They also wrote their data in their notebooks and they read books and magazine articles about plant life because they wanted to understand what was happening."
"Traditional classes read articles, write answers and measure," Ricardo pointed out. "I don't see much difference."
Puzzled, Angela studied him. Surely he'd observed the process. They'd even discussed it at length. "These students do it individually. They search the information for their own use rather than following a forced reading assignment."
"If the teacher doesn't assign the work, how do they know if their students have read the necessary material?"
Willing herself to be calm, Angela took a deep breath. Again Ricardo's attitude baffled her. For someone who had insisted he possessed an open mind and a willingness to be objective, he was acting annoyingly obtuse. What kind of game was he playing?
"If you noticed, in our library there are at least a hundred books, magazines and pamphlets available on the different aspects of environment that we're studying. The students use them to find answers to their questions."
"That still doesn't mean a child of this age will be able to read them."
For a brief moment, when he rubbed his fingers against his forehead, Angela thought Ricardo might be suffering from a headache. Maybe that was why he seemed to question every practice she’d described. But the cool stare he leveled at her made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing.
The suit instilled a sense of professionalism but hadn’t given her as much confidence as she’d hoped it would when she chose to wear it that morning. Now, only her conviction in her beliefs could really do that.
“The children are participating in activities, Mr. de la Cruz." She punctuated each word with chilling clarity. "Their interest motivates them. In the case of their plants, they wanted to find information that would explain why they grew or died."
"How can you be sure they truly understand what they read?" He rapped out the question as if he had a whole battery in store.
"By their conversation and by the notes they take.” Angela snapped.
Each loaded question Ricardo asked further fueled her anger. Looking around her at the supportive faces of her colleagues, she struggled to defuse her temper to no avail.
"Would you excuse us for a moment?" she asked the group. "I need to confer with Mr. de la Cruz in private." She cast a cool glance at Ricardo. "Shall we?" She gestured at the door.
Ricardo preceded her into the corridor. Before she could follow, Dr. Wheeler grasped her wrist.
"You're doing fine," she assured her. Angela looked up to find the others nodding their assent. Their confidence in her boosted her sagging morale. She smiled before following Ricardo out the door.
CHAPTER 8
CLOSING THE DOOR behind her, Angela stepped into the hall and planted herself in front of Ricardo.
"What are you trying to do to me now?"
She stood with hands on her hips, aggressive and on the attack.
"You were the one who set up this conference," Ricardo defended.
"And you agreed to cooperate."
"I'm here." He looked truly puzzled, but Angela didn't let that fool her one bit. Ricardo de la Cruz was much too clever and manipulative to be confused.
"And I'm wondering why." She shook her head. "You don't appear to be hearing a word I say."
"What are you talking about?" He reached for her but Angela dodged him.
"You know very well, Ricardo de la Cruz, what I’m talking about. Every point I make, you argue with. You sound as if you don't believe I know what I'm doing in that classroom. You know better—you've seen me."
"Angela, Angela." He stepped forward in a swift motion to capture her shoulders in his hands.
She fought the arousal this created and scowled at him. "Don't touch me."
"I'm trying to help you."
"Some help. You doubt every statement I make."
His next move startled her. He stuffed his hands in his pants pockets, rocked back on his heels and burst out laughing. Shocked, Angela stared at him.
"Is that what's bothering you? Don't you see what I'm doing?"
"You're trying to discredit me.”
"No." He reached for her, but again Angela sidestepped him. He could charm her into believing anything if he touched her. "I'm playing devil's advocate. If you present the whole language process to the public, they're going to raise the same questions I have."
He was right. She could picture her school board doing exactly that. Did Ricardo plan to present this to the board after all?
"I need to see that you can defend yourself," he reasoned. "I need layman's explanations
for what I saw. I spent four days in your room and I saw what your students could do, but I need to comprehend the theory behind your success."
She looked at him then, searching the depths of his eyes for the truth of his words.
"Do you understand now?” Reaching out, he took her arm. When she didn't pull away, he slid his fingers down to capture hers.
Angela held onto his hand as if to a lifeline. "Ask your questions.” She took a deep breath to strengthen her bravado. "I'll do my best to clarify our position."
"That's all I want."
Footsteps sounded in the hall. Angela glanced up to see Cathy Jones approaching. Quickly, she pulled her hand from Ricardo's, but the way the woman stared at them, Angela knew she'd seen.
"I thought you were in a big meeting this afternoon." Cathy raised an eyebrow.
Cathy's question filled Angela with a sense of foreboding. "It's still going on."
"Is Mrs. Edwards in there?"
Angela nodded, disliking the way the other teacher’s gaze traveled speculatively between her and Ricardo. "Do you need to talk to her?"
"It can wait. I'll see her later. Lupe and I need to discuss some plans with her." Her voice turned sugary. "After she's finished with you."
Impatiently, Angela shifted toward the door of the conference room. "We've got to get back. Excuse us."
Ricardo guided her back inside where all eyes riveted on the two of them.
"Just a meeting of the minds." Angela smiled, trying to ease the situation.
"More like a clash," quipped Dr. Wheeler. "Bound to happen when two people as strong and determined as you are collide."
Ricardo laughed, his genuine appreciation of good humor lacing his tone. "She is imposing."
"Don't we know it," the science professor added with good-natured regret. "We've gone several rounds with her ourselves while defending our theories against her practical knowledge."
"Which is what I'd like to ask you about." Ricardo brought the discussion back to base with his expertise as an interviewer.
For the next two hours, they reviewed the edited tapes and discussed the theory behind each scene. The professors backed Angela with research data. Mrs. Edwards assured Ricardo of the positive reaction from parents. Angela drew on knowledge she wasn't even aware she had acquired to respond to the continual barrage.
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