What was the real color of her eyes? The answer to the question seemed more critical as their time wound down.
A group of teenagers walked by and Natalia inspected them, her eyes narrowed. A moment later she dismissed them like she hadn’t recognized any of the kids.
She ate with her mask in place. Natalia No Last Name. But he couldn’t fault her for not opening up to him and giving him free access to her life story like the top flap of a comic book. He, too, had taught Jaycee not to give away all her personal details to the first guy who showed a little interest.
Their meal was over too soon and he had to get back to work. He grabbed their wrappers and took them to a garbage can. When he turned, she was right behind him. They walked back to the entrance to the convention hall.
“When can I see you again?” he asked as soon as they got inside.
Just then, the doorways to two conference rooms opened and people with robes and capes—and the occasional plain street clothes—flooded out. He hooked Natalia’s arm and pulled her around the corner. The bathrooms were in the opposite direction, making it relatively private.
He stopped to face her but looked over her shoulder to see if they were going to get interrupted. Foot traffic was going in a different direction and they were mostly isolated. He looked back at her. Her lips parted as she gazed up at him.
He had one question—what’s your phone number?—but he couldn’t ask it. Her eyelids had dropped and she was leaning closer.
He closed the gap, dropping his lips onto hers.
A soft gasp escaped her, but she rose to her tiptoes, her hands coming around his shoulders for support. Winding his arms around her tight waist, he marveled once again over how well her outfit encased her body. The warm fabric was smooth under his arms, allowing him to enjoy the solid curves of her body.
He deepened the kiss, and she opened for him. A part of his conscious brain was still working and he backed them toward the cove outside of an unused conference room for extra privacy.
Their tongues twined, soft, hot, and needy. Blood left his head to pump to his groin. He didn’t have enough brain function left to warn himself that making out with a near stranger at a convention he had helped plan and worked at wasn’t a good idea.
But Natalia felt too good. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, their breaths mingling. He could easily imagine them doing more. If just kissing her was this lust inducing, what would sleeping with her be like?
He was getting ahead of himself— She rocked against him, her pelvis stroking his erection. Was she having the same ideas?
A moan escaped him. Smashed together, feeling every inch of her body, it wasn’t enough.
Loud voices and rowdy laugher approached.
She pulled back, stepping out of his arms. Lifting her hand to touch her kiss-swollen lips, she shook her head. “I’m…I should be…I don’t usually move this fast. I’m new in town, and jumping into some guy’s arms wasn’t in my itinerary.”
“I’d like to be more than some guy. Are you free next weekend?” He didn’t even know what she looked like. But he loved her passion and she was easy to talk to. Under that black wig and those dark contacts, Natalia had to outshine Valaria.
“I—” She adjusted her wig and scowled. Had it dawned on her, too, that he didn’t know what she really looked like? “I’ll give you my number, but my job is…so demanding. I’m not girlfriend material.”
He held his hands up. Her nerves were working higher and her tension was almost palpable. “No pressure. We can exchange numbers and when you’re free maybe we can grab supper or hit up a movie?”
He’d almost lost her until he said movie. Her eyes lit up. “Yeah, that might work.”
Pulling out his phone, he thought she’d do the same. But the whole time he’d been feeling that suit, he hadn’t felt a phone. “Valaria doesn’t have a friends-and-family account, huh?”
She chuckled. “No. I left my phone in the car rather than have the outline of a rectangle on my ass.”
The reminder of her ass in that costume threatened to send more blood to his fading erection. She rattled off her number and he triple-checked it was stored before they walked back to the showroom floor.
He couldn’t wait to see her again.
Chapter 2
“Ms. Shaw?”
Natalia looked up from her computer screen. Her young assistant’s voice was hesitant, like she worried Natalia would send her packing for the interruption.
She’d only done that to an assistant once, during her first position after graduate school. Maybe twice. Being taken seriously as the principal of a private school when she’d just turned thirty and had little teaching experience wasn’t easy. But being brought on board to keep one of her father’s schools from sinking wasn’t about the quality of her teaching. It was about stopping the abuse of power that had been dragging the school down.
“What is it, Ms. Branson?” Natalia pushed away from her desk. Her assistant was nearly as new as she was. Natalia had only arrived at the beginning of the month, but Ms. Branson had started a month earlier when the new school year had begun. Natalia had kept her on because Ms. Branson had just turned in her resumé, disgusted with the atrocious behavior of the last principal. With at least one person in her corner, maybe Natalia could save this ship from getting toppled by the next wave of parental outrage.
Just like she’d done at the previous school she’d fixed.
“The history teacher brought down a freshman. The girl was late for class all last week and Mr. Budinsky has had enough.” Ms. Branson looked behind her, then stepped into the room, holding the door almost completely closed. “He’s also tried disciplining her for abusing the use of his name.”
Budinsky. Natalia could imagine all the ways a teenage mind would twist that.
“Give me a few minutes. I’ll let you know when to send her in.” The girl’s tardiness wasn’t the major concern. It was what had caused her to arrive late to class. Again with the teenage mind.
Natalia logged into the security footage. The cameras had been in disrepair, but they were one of the first things Natalia had gotten fixed when she accepted the position of principal. The former principal had been sleeping with the head of the finance department and they’d redirected funds. Some had been embezzled, the rest diverted to bulk up the football team and purchase a new bus. Never mind that the library had one DVD player to check out and it was the first one most of the school’s students had ever seen.
Assuming the student was in the current period, she reviewed the security footage of the minutes before and after Mr. Budinsky’s class started. It was only Monday and tardiness looked to be on the schedule for this week. The grainy footage of a girl sauntering up to the closed door, shooting a shit-eating grin over her shoulder, was clear enough. The student wore a khaki skirt, which wasn’t popular with the girls. Most preferred pants, since leggings went against the dress code.
Preston Academy had a uniform dress code. Navy blue or khaki pants or skirts. Red, navy, or white polo shirts could be paired with them.
Natalia punched into another camera’s feed. A boy lingered in front of a storage closet. Natalia narrowed her eyes. She’d never been in that particular closet, but she’d bet her father’s new Audi that it had enough room for two kids to get handsy, especially if one of those kids wore a skirt.
“Not on my watch,” Natalia muttered. She sent Ms. Branson a message to send the student in. She also listed the camera and minutes for Ms. Branson to determine the identity of the boy.
Seconds later, Natalia’s office door opened and the girl slipped inside. Her light brown hair hung loose over wiry shoulders. Her light brown eyes were a rebellious mix of do your worst and I don’t care. Natalia might be deluding herself, but she thought she also saw a little oh shit, what have I gotten myself into?
She hoped the girl felt that way. It gave Natalia a little hope that she could work with the student’s behavior.
�
�Ms. Shaw.” The girl sat primly in a chair on the other side of Natalia’s desk. She looked around the office.
Yep, it was bare. Natalia had spent the first week packing the former principal’s trophies in a box. Then she’d loaded all the outdated textbooks and taken the haul to the end of the drive that led to Preston Academy. The old employee—or his mistress, who no longer worked at Preston Academy either—could come pick up his belongings as long as they didn’t step foot on campus.
As for her decorating efforts, she’d find appropriate decor. Her preferences had to go out the window. Movie posters and pop culture art were not appropriate for the head of a private school. She could just imagine the president of the school board wandering in and questioning his hiring choice.
She’d never been able to openly display the few knickknacks she’d collected over the years or the purchases she’d made at cons. But she’d been deliciously distracted from buying anything at the Twin Cities Comic Con.
And she couldn’t think about him now. Or ever. She had no time for dating. Once her stint at Preston was done, she was off to fix the next academy. Because that’s who she was: a fixer.
“Jaycee, why were you late for history?” Natalia preferred to be direct. She wasn’t these kids’ BFF and she wasn’t going to act like it. It was her job to make sure they got a quality education while building respectable character. Chitchat didn’t always fit into the equation.
“It takes too long to get from my locker to the classroom.”
Some days it was hard not say bullshit out loud. Preston Academy was a university prep school that was small enough to be all in one building. Built sixty years ago, it was solid brick like it belonged on a prestigious college campus, and only one addition had been added over the years. Her grandfather’s vision had never been to grow so large they needed to keep adding on. He insisted on quality over quantity. Until her father had taken over. It had cost her a ton of friendships and any popularity whatsoever because of all the moving. He’d gone on to build five more similarly sized campuses all over the country. Rich people wanted superior education for their kids and the more limited it was, the more prestigious it felt.
A message popped up on Natalia’s screen. She read it, her heart sinking to her Captain America–decaled toenails. “Who’s Dresden Wentworth?”
Natalia’s heart thumped in time with the flare of Jaycee’s eyes. Yes, I know who you’ve been making out with. Unfortunately, her time going through records after starting her job also meant she knew the Wentworths were one of the biggest benefactors of the school.
The downfall of many private schools: those who gifted their money thought it came with strings attached. Look, I just wrote a check for a hundred thousand and we need a quarterback with a solid arm. I just happen to know a student we can recruit for a full ride.
Natalia couldn’t blame them. The sums paid for tuition and donated outright were staggering. But balance was needed between academics and extracurricular activities and that wasn’t always appreciated. Retaining quality staff meant spending money on them, and some of their donors didn’t understand the correlation.
“Dresden’s a friend.” Jaycee’s gaze flicked away. “Why are you bringing him up?”
“He’s a friend you’ve been late to history for. And it’s something I need to inform your parents about.” Natalia glanced at the new message on her screen.
Jaycee lived with only one parent, her father. Her mother was listed as an emergency contact only.
Natalia slid her gaze back to the girl. Issues at home then. Mom was out of the picture and Dad was either too strict or his little angel did no wrong.
Jaycee scowled at the top of Natalia’s desk. “Do what ya gotta do.”
Oh, Natalia would. “Why do you call Mr. Budinsky names?”
The girl snorted. “Because he refuses to use my proper name. Until he does, I’m not using his proper name.”
“What wrong name is he using?”
Jaycee gathered her hair and draped it down her back. What Natalia wouldn’t give to wear her hair down someday. But as the daughter of the man in charge of all six Preston Academies, she had to look as professional as humanly possible. Sharp suits, bound hair, and, when the occasion called for a little more flair, dark-rimmed glasses. She wore little makeup besides a brush or two of mascara and clear lip gloss. Dying her hair wasn’t an option, thanks to the dress code, but she’d accumulated quite an assortment of wigs for her cosplay.
“He keeps calling me Ms. Halliwell when it should be Ms. Richards.”
Richards? Natalia glanced at her computer again. Ah. The mother’s name.
“What’s your legal name?” It had to be Halliwell. The school required legal names, not first preferences and not nicknames.
“Well,” Jaycee fisted the cuffs of her long-sleeved emerald shirt, “Halliwell is on my birth certificate, but I went by Richards for years until…” Her gaze slid to the ceiling, then bounced to the wall. And there it was. The pain that made Jaycee act out. Textbook.
“Until you moved in with your father?”
Jaycee nodded but didn’t meet her gaze.
“How are things going, living with him?”
“Fine. He’s around a lot now. Like, all the time.”
“He never used to be?” Half of her job called for being a counselor. Preston Academy had one on staff, but Natalia wanted to learn about Jaycee before she shuffled the girl’s case off.
Jaycee crossed her legs. One or both of her parents must be tall. Natalia had topped out at five foot five. Her mother was two inches shorter and her father three inches taller. But she’d learned from both of them how to walk with swagger and an air of entitlement.
“No. Dad used to be a suit guy. Long hours, killer pay. But when he got me, he quit to be home more. Now he works at…” Her gaze cut away. “When’s he gonna be here?”
“In a few moments. Would you rather wait with Ms. Branson?” That’d give Natalia some time to watch more footage and read Mr. Budinsky’s entire report.
The girl sauntered out, her shoulders rounded in and her steps not as cocky as when she’d entered.
Was there trouble at home or unresolved issues with her mom’s absence?
Several minutes ticked by. Natalia scanned each day of the previous week. It was a daily occurrence. A quick disappearance into the closet until five minutes past the bell. Jaycee would creep out first and then Dresden would strut out like he didn’t have a care in the world.
So why hadn’t he been sent to her office? Natalia looked up his schedule. Her stomach sank.
If she were a superhero swooping in to save the school, Dresden’s fifth-period teacher would be her nemesis. An evil villain who also happened to be the athletics director: Sam Samuelson. Coach Sammie, beloved by all the check-writing, former-jock parents.
“Fuck me,” she muttered and jumped in her seat when someone rapped on her door. “Yes?”
Ms. Branson peeked in. “Mr. Halliwell is here. Would you like me to send them both in?”
“Just Mr. Halliwell first.” It’d give her a chance to gauge his reaction. Sometimes parents talked more openly when their kids weren’t around.
Ms. Branson stepped inside and Natalia rose to greet Mr. Halliwell. She was stepping around her desk when he cleared the doorway. She stopped short and her thigh bumped the edge of her desk. Pain shot through her leg, but she gritted her teeth against a curse word.
The man she had twined herself around not two days ago at the comic con had just entered her office.
Chris was Mr. Halliwell? He was dressed nearly identically to when she’d met him. There was no denying he was the same person.
She’d made out with a student’s parent?
Mortification swept through her. The one time she’d lowered her guard, and she’d committed professional suicide. She’d come here as the ballbuster to knock the place back into shape. If those who resisted her efforts found out she had a personal relationship with a studen
t’s father, they would double down to undermine her efforts.
He smiled, that easy grin she’d dreamt about each night since the convention, but it was filled with tension. “Hello, Ms. Shaw.”
He didn’t recognize her. Gone was the black wig, leaving her shoulder-length honey brown hair wound tightly in a bun. Gone were her contacts. He wouldn’t have been able to tell her eyes were hazel, more on the brown side than green, under her contacts. And thanks to her father’s dental plan, she didn’t have chipped teeth, gaps, a gold cap, or any other identifiable feature in her mouth.
Had she evaded social destruction? “Hello, Ch—Mr. Halliwell.” She stomped around the desk to give him a firm handshake, trying to forget his hands had been on her ass. She gestured to the seat Jaycee had vacated and scurried back to her own.
He glanced around the office. It was what everyone did when they first sat down. Of course his gaze landed on the single prism she’d set on the shelf. It was the shape of Superman’s emblem, but when she turned it a certain way, no one could tell. It was the one geeky adornment she allowed herself. If anyone mentioned it, she could fake ignorance.
“Okay, Mr. Halliwell, let me get to the point of why we called you here.” She gave him the rundown of Jaycee’s tardiness, made him aware of her last-name angst, and outlined the consequences.
And she did it all without her voice shaking and without staring at his lips. Good. It was time to shove the case file off to the counselor. Now that she had his number from Jaycee’s file, she could make sure she never answered if he tried to call.
Chapter 3
It was hard to take his eyes off Ms. Shaw. “I’m sorry. Have we met before?”
Based on Principal: Fanboys Book 3 Page 2