Friday's Child (5 page)

Kate studied him. His only concession to the unseasonably cool breeze was a leather jacket. He wore no gloves or hat, and the jacket was unzipped, revealing a denim shirt. When her eyes trailed back to his, she caught a gleam in his gaze as it wandered over her figure, and she was made self-consciously aware of her casual attire. Pushing her hair back over one shoulder, she wished that she'd restrained it that morning.

“I rang the bell a few times, but when no one answered, I wasn't sure it was working.”

“Oh.” She looked from him to the bell and back again.

“It isn't.”

His lips twitched. “So I assumed.”

“The landlord has been promising to repair it.”

His smile faded slowly. “I have something I need to discuss with you. Do you have a few minutes?”

Muscles knotted as tension returned. “I think anything we have to discuss could be done at school tomorrow.”

He nodded. “I thought about that. But I was afraid you wouldn't have anything in your classroom to put these in.”
He picked up a long white box he'd had lying on her wooden banister and offered it to her.

Kate eyed it guardedly. “What's that?”

His eyes crinkled at her distrustful tone. “A peace offering.” He stepped forward and thrust the box into her hands. Fingers closing over it, she took an unconscious step back, which he took as an invitation to enter. He shut the door behind him. With the panels of the white steel door as a backdrop, he seemed bigger than she remembered, with a barely restrained masculine strength. He filled the small foyer in which they stood as much by the force of his personality as by his physical presence.

“Something smells good,” he said, sniffing the air appreciatively.

“It's cookies. Every student in my class had a perfect paper in spelling this week, and I promised them a celebration.”

A slow smile crossed his face. “I heard from Chloe. She can't wait.”

Kate didn't return his smile. This wasn't the same man she'd met with at school last week. He'd reverted to the charmingly casual manner of their first encounter, and alarm bells were going off inside her head. Michael Friday engaging and teasing was no less dangerous than Michael Friday in a temper. She hadn't forgotten his parting threat. He might use different methods than her father, but they shared a similar need to control others. She'd do well to remember that.

He nodded to the box she was holding. “Go ahead and open it.”

His gaze held hers for a long moment before she did as he requested. Slipping the ribbon off the box, Kate lifted the lid and pushed aside the tissue paper. An involuntary sound of delight escaped her when the twelve long-stemmed yellow roses were revealed. “They're beautiful.”

When her gaze met his again, he was watching her with an arrested expression, his face intent, no longer amused. Suddenly breathless, she parted her lips to speak, but no words came out.

Then he looked past her, a slight frown between his brows. “Is something burning?”

Kate's eyes grew wide. “Ohmigosh,” she muttered, before turning and dashing back to the kitchen.

 

The view from the rear was at least as tantalizing as the one from the front. Her tightly curved bottom moved enticingly in rhythm with her quick steps. Michael watched appreciatively as she hurried into the kitchen and bent over the oven door. Those shapeless jumpers he'd seen her in had done little to enhance what nature had blessed her with, and nature had, in fact, been more than generous. He'd been dumb-founded by the transformation a pair of snug-fitting jeans and V-necked T-shirt could have on her appearance. But it wasn't really the clothes that had his hormones kicking into overdrive. It was seeing those riotous curls that had been left free to cascade over her shoulders.

All in all, his ability to breathe had been impaired at roughly the same moment she'd opened the door. Which shouldn't have surprised him, given his reaction to her both times they'd met previously. But he couldn't deny that he liked the sight of Kate Rose in jeans, liked it very much.

He followed in her steps, unabashedly ignoring the fact that he hadn't been invited in. She looked at him warily before sliding a spatula under the next fresh cookie and placing it on the brown paper where she had the others cooling.

“Can I do anything?”

She shook her head but didn't pause in her task. “No. I'm just going to get this next batch in the oven.”

“How about if I put the flowers in water?” he offered. He didn't wait for an answer before he started pulling cupboard doors open. “Where do you keep your vases?”

“I don't think I have any.”

“Never mind,” he said, his voice muffled. When she turned back to him, he had two large jars in his hands. “These should do.” She was visibly uncomfortable at having him in her kitchen, browsing through her cupboards, he noted. He
matter-of-factly went about filling the jars with water and arranging half the roses in each one.

When the last pan had gone into the oven, she said, “The roses are gorgeous, but they really weren't necessary.”

“I thought they were,” he returned easily. “But if you're feeling indebted, those cookies look pretty tempting.”

Being pushy had its advantages, he thought a few minutes later as he munched on warm chocolate-chip cookies. Without that quality it was a sure bet that he'd never have gotten in her door and inside her kitchen, and it was certain that he wouldn't be sitting at her table watching her pour him a glass of milk. He was feeling pretty expansive. The day was turning out much better than he deserved.

“I'm a sucker for milk and cookies.”

“You're easily impressed.”

“Not easily.” His gaze was direct. “But I am impressed. Very.” With fascination, he noted the delicate color that bloomed in her cheeks. “You're being much more gracious than I deserve. I wouldn't blame you for throwing me out after the way I acted at our other meetings.”

“You didn't need to bring the flowers. I certainly understood your being upset.”

“I wanted to apologize,” he said soberly. If he hadn't been so engrossed in his own feelings of self-recrimination, he might have wondered at the shock widening her eyes. “When I left you at the school, I had every intention of contacting the superintendent and having you removed from your teaching position.” He had no doubt he could have done so, had he not come to his senses. The academy was a private institution, and like most private schools, it relied heavily on donations to maintain its outstanding educational reputation. “I know what kind of bastard that makes me, and I'm not proud of it. I hope you'll accept my apology.” He watched her carefully, but her expression had blanked. No doubt she was agreeing with his self-assessment.

Shame had a bitter flavor. He'd sworn long ago that he wasn't going to be the kind of man who would use his power
to hurt others. It still shook him to realize just how close he had come to doing so.

She released a long breath. “Well. That's…honest, at least.”

Her reaction encouraged him. “So we've declared a truce?”

A small smile crossed her lips. “I don't think our disagreement could qualify as war. Maybe a minor skirmish.” Her gaze direct, she asked, “Have you had time to read through the information we gave you?”

He drew in a breath, then expelled it slowly. “You're tenacious, aren't you?”

“I can be.”

“Well, to answer your question, yes, I've read it. And I understand your concern. There are some common points that I can see in Chloe,” he said reluctantly. “But I still think you'd find commonalities with almost any kids. I'm not convinced that Chloe has Attention Deficit Disorder.” He pronounced the name precisely. After a pause, he added grudgingly, “But I'm willing to learn more about it.”

Her sudden smile sent thought momentarily careening away. Foolishly, he wondered for a brief second what it would take to get Kate to smile that way again, the pleasure reserved for
him
this time, rather than for his words.

“We have some excellent sources at the school,” she responded. “I have copies of a few books myself. You're welcome to use them.”

“Thanks. Trask is gathering up all the resources he can for me. He's read the material I brought home, as well. He's pretty attached to Chloe.”

“Have you discussed this with Chloe's mother?”

Michael's hand halted halfway to his mouth with another cookie. “God, no,” he muttered feelingly. Though she didn't say anything, he could feel her disapproval. “First I want to learn more about it myself. If I ever do decide to take Chloe to a doctor about it, I'll talk to Deanna then.” He wouldn't look forward to that discussion, but he wasn't going to worry overmuch about it yet. He still believed that the possibility
of Chloe having the disorder was remote. He wasn't going to put himself through a tangle with Deanna unless he was certain there was a need for it.

He dismissed his ex-wife from his mind with casual ease and returned all his attention to Kate. She reached for a cookie from the plate between them, and his gaze lingered on the delicate wrist, the long, slender fingers. She was fairly tall for a woman but still came only up to his shoulder. He'd dated a few models and had always enjoyed not having to fold himself in half to kiss them. But this woman would make a little effort worthwhile. He hadn't liked the bony angles and lack of feminine curves on the models, preferring instead a woman with defined female attributes. Kate's breasts were shown off to perfection in the thin cotton shirt she was wearing. High and round, each would be a luscious handful.

Suddenly aware of where his gaze had lingered, Michael looked quickly at her face to see if she'd noticed. Judging by the color that had returned to her cheeks, she had. Deliberately changing the subject, he said, “Actually, I had another reason for coming to see you today.” He leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankle. “Chloe has a birthday coming up next week.”

Kate nodded. “Yes, I know. We celebrate birthdays in the classroom, too.”

“Deanna has arranged a party for her and a few friends the weekend after her birthday, but I'll be spending the day with her, and I wanted to do something special. She's made the plans, and they include you.”

“Me?”

Michael's eyes glinted with humor. “Yes. You, Miss Rose, are her idol. You can do no wrong, and there's nothing she'd like more than to have you join us for a trip to—” he barely restrained the grimace “—Freddie's Funhouse.”

Kate appeared to choose her words carefully. “That's sweet, but I don't belong at a family celebration.”

One eyebrow cocked, he inquired, “You wouldn't by any chance be turning us down because you have an aversion to Freddie's, would you?”

She shook her head. “Actually, I've never even been there.”

“Ah. Well then, you should know that at Freddie's, they use only real cheese on their pizzas, the tokens for the games are four for a dollar, and the fun never ends.”

Her lips twitched. “It's a very attractive offer, but I still would feel out of place.”

Michael leaned forward, suddenly serious. “I hope you're not turning down the invitation because of the way I acted at our previous meetings. I'd hate for Chloe to be disappointed because of my behavior.”

He'd succeeded in flustering her. Her gaze bounced to his, and then away. “No. We've reached a truce, remember?”

His shoulders relaxed against the back of his chair. “Good. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, but I really do hope you'll consider joining us, Kate. I wasn't exaggerating when I mentioned how much Chloe likes you. You've been a major topic of discussion over the dinner table since the first of September. We've heard about what you wear, what you say, and I must tell you, Chloe is quite impressed with your prowess with a jump rope.”

She bit her lip. “Oh, Lord.”

“Seriously,” he continued, “I was relieved to find that she took to you so quickly. She was pretty young at the time of the divorce, but when the living arrangements changed, I was really worried about the transition.”

“She seems very well adjusted.”

He nodded. “I think so. She gets a lot of attention, but I don't want her to become spoiled. She really seems to be okay with the reversed custody.” He gave a rueful shrug. “I can't tell if it's wishful thinking on my part, but she appears happy. She loves our place, loves having the dogs and horses around. Doesn't even seem to mind roughing it with two old bachelors who aren't always sure of what they're doing.”

Kate leaned forward impulsively and touched his hand. “Chloe speaks of you often, and of Mr. Trask. And from the frequency with which you both appear in her pictures, you're at least as popular with her as the dogs and horses.”

Her slightly teasing tone wasn't lost on him, but his attention was arrested by the feel of her fingers on his skin. The easy warmth that was so much a part of her was transferred by her touch, and a corresponding heat spread through him. She did that often, he realized. By the end of their last meeting he'd been a little dazed, but not so much that he couldn't remember the way she'd walked out of the office ahead of him, her hand on the nurse's arm as they spoke.

When she would have withdrawn her touch, he neatly reversed their positions, capturing her fingers in his. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said, his wry tone meant to distract her from the thumb he sent skating across her knuckles. “I'll take your word for it, since you're the expert here. There are actually times when I think Chloe has me at least as well trained as our golden retriever.”

Her gaze dropped to their hands then, and after a moment Michael let go of hers, saying easily, “If I don't miss my guess, that last batch of cookies should be just about finished.”