Gift of Fortune (20 page)

"Time to test another sense," he whispered.

"Which one?"

"Taste. Kiss me."

Aileen's eyes snapped open. "Pardon?"

"You heard me."

"Um. Yes. Taste. I made a dessert. Why don't we taste
it?" Nimbly she ducked out of his arms and hurried upstairs.

Quint stared after her in stunned disbelief. Then he grinned. What she needed was a different approach and a
little more wooing. He could do that.

Upstairs Aileen soaked a paper towel in cold water and
pressed it against her hot face. She couldn't believe she'd
bolted upstairs like a coward. Except his sweetly whispered
command to kiss him had caught her completely off guard.
None of the men she'd dated had ever asked her to kiss
them. They'd just grabbed her and pressed their lips against
hers with varying degrees of expertise. Some of those
kisses had been more pleasant than others. Quint's kisses,
she suspected, would be quite awesome, if merely thinking
about them made her heart pound.

She heard Quint enter the kitchen. Moments later music
floated from the radio.

"The dessert can wait," he said. "How about a dance?
Jennifer mentioned going to The Black Hat. They do
mostly line dancing there."

"I don't know how to do that kind of dancing."

Her tone of voice told him that she'd pounced on that
as an excuse. "Line dancing isn't hard. And it's okay if you
don't do it perfectly."

Aileen looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Why do
you feel it necessary to give me permission not to do something perfectly?"

"Because you won't give it to yourself." When she continued to look at him, he added, "Why do you think you're
not into doing something on the spur of the moment?"

"Because I'm conservative by nature?"

"Maybe, but Jack's insistence on being perfect sure
didn't help."

"No, it didn't," she admitted, astonished by this insight.
"But I'm also not a risk taker."

"Yeah, right! You take risks every day. How do you
know that you're getting through to those kids? You don't, but you spend all that energy and time on them. Maybe
years down the road one or two of them will come back
and tell you that you had a big influence on their lives, but
right now? You're gambling and taking risks."

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Aileen admitted.

"And then you live on a ranch. If ranching in this day
and age isn't taking risks, I don't know what is."

"You're right."

"Okay then. Come on." Quint held his hand out to her.

"What, right now? We're line dancing in this kitchen?"

"Why not? It's big enough. We have plenty of room."

"Remember, dancing doesn't come naturally to me the
way it comes to you."

"Hush. You'll be okay."

"So, what steps are you going to teach me?"

"Depends on what music's playing." Quint didn't let go
of her hand while they waited for the commercial to end.
"Did you know there are actually teachers out there who
teach the steps without music? How can you dance without
music? That's ripping the soul out of dancing." He shook
his head. "Ah. Listen. A country-western cha-cha."

"You're kidding, right?"

Quint grinned. "No. There really is such a thing as a
cowboy cha-cha. It goes like this."

Quint demonstrated, his thumbs hooked in the belt loops
of his jeans. Aileen watched. He made it seem effortless.
Graceful. Even sexy. Very sexy. This wasn't going to be
easy. Thank heaven, he wasn't going to touch her. Still,
even being close to him was enough to fluster her and impair her concentration.

"It's easy," Quint said. "You can do it."

Aileen looked at Quint, doubting that line dancing would
be that simple. But his warm smile went a long way toward
easing her reservations, if not her nervousness.

"Give me your hand," Quint said firmly.

"Why?" she asked, alarmed. "I thought that in line dancing you didn't touch."

"You don't, except when you're learning."

"Oh." Aileen held out her hand. She wondered if he noticed that it trembled, but she didn't look at it or at him.

His large hand enfolded hers. He pressed it reassuringly.
They repeated the sequence several times before Quint
added the pivots and the quarter turns. The song ended.

"There. Was that so bad?" he asked.

"No, because you're a good teacher."

"Of course I am. Didn't I tell you I'm good at a lot of
things?" His cocky tone matched his cocky grin. "Just out
of curiosity, what makes me a good teacher?"

"You're patient, you reinforce what you've taught, and
you're generous with praise."

"Well, thank you, ma'am." He glanced at their joined
hands. "Before? When I said I had to hold your hand to
teach line dancing, I lied. It was just an excuse."

It was on the tip of Aileen's tongue to say that he didn't
need an excuse since he was her husband, but she stopped
herself. Instead, she said, "You cowboys are a sneaky
bunch."

"We have to be, or we'd never get to hold hands. What
with spending our days with cattle and horses-"

"I get the picture. Any more line dancing tonight?"

"Depends on the music. If this announcer ever stops jawing-"

"He heard you," Aileen said, when the music started.

"Yeah, and he's playing a nice, slow two-step." Quint
put his arms around Aileen and drew her close. "I have a
confession to make."

"Oh no! Not another one. Are you going to confess you
like holding hands ... um ... hooves-"

"No, smartie. I'm confessing that I'm not all that crazy
about line dancing."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed that. Why not?"

"No touching. Dancing without holding your partner
goes against the spirit of dancing." He frowned. "There's
probably a word for what I mean."

"Contrary. Or, if you want to be pedantic, dancing without touching `contravenes the essence of "dancing.'

Quint grinned. "You're so good with words."

"And you're so good with moves."

"Yeah? And you haven't seen anywhere near all of my
moves yet," he murmured against her hair, his voice husky.

The promise inherent in those words caused a shiver of
anticipation to shimmy down Aileen's spine.

Quint's arms tightened around Aileen. He felt her back
go rigid. "It's okay. Just relax." He moved his hand slowly,
soothingly along her spine.

Suddenly, his thoughts wandered dangerously. Would
she allow herself to wear lingerie with bits of lace and satin
to make up for the modest clothes, or would her underthings be plain and functional as well? But even wearing
unadorned cotton lingerie Aileen would be woman enough
to make him incredibly happy he was a man. He had no
doubts about that.

The song ended, plunging Quint back into reality. He
held her a few seconds longer, willing his body to relax,
his pulse to return to normal. If that was possible with
Aileen still in his arms. He would have to let her go. Reluctantly he did so when the radio announcer's voice slid
into an advertising spiel.

"It's getting late," Aileen said quietly.

"Tired?" Quint asked.

She shrugged. "Not particularly, but you get up early, even on Saturdays. And I plan to spend the day attacking
those pesky weeds that are threatening my plants."

"If you don't watch those weeds closely all the time,
they'll take over," Quint warned jokingly.

"I've noticed that," she said with a smile. Aileen turned
off the kitchen light. Side by side they walked toward the
stairs.

Though Quint slowed their pace, they quickly reached
the foot of the stairs-his nightly battleground between desire and decency. Every night he was tempted to make a
move on Aileen, but hadn't he promised her that he
wouldn't drag her to the nearest bed? His bed, he estimated
once again, was a scant and scary fifteen feet from where
they stood. Way too close.

Aileen raised her face to look at him. He steeled himself
against the pull of blue eyes and red-gold hair, the scent of
spring flowers and sweet caramel, the taste of soft lips and
sweet kisses which were relatively unpracticed and thus
triply dangerous and seductive.

"I had fun," she said with a smile. "Good night."
Quickly, she ran up the stairs.

At school Aileen stared happily out the window. All she
saw was the parking lot, half-empty during the summer
session. Or rather, she didn't really see it. What she saw
instead, in her mind's eye, was Quint smiling at her. Quint
telling her about his day. Quint looking at her with a teasing
grin in those green eyes.

A sneeze in the classroom plunged her back into reality.
Embarrassed, she glanced at the sixteen incoming freshmen
who had signed up for her study skills class. Their heads
were bent over their work. Thank heaven, they hadn't seen
their teacher's smile, which doubtlessly had been dreamy,
if not downright fatuous.

Time to get back to work. Aileen rose from her chair.
"Class, as I told you, taking notes does not mean copying
word for word. What did I say I would do if I saw a single
complete sentence on your index card?"

She glanced at her seating chart before calling on the
boy in the second row who had raised his hand. "Yes, Jason?"

"You said you were the card cop and you'd tear up any
note card that had a stolen sentence on it."

"That's correct. Thank you, Jason." Aileen walked
around the classroom. She stopped to look at the cards of
a girl chewing gum vigorously. "Brittany, what is the exception to copying word for word?"

"Putting quotation marks around the sentence," Brittany
said and popped her gum.

"That's right. What else do you have to do?"

"Write down the book and the page you got it from."

"Correct. Now get rid of your gum, Brittany. In the trash
can, please."

"Aw, Mrs. Fernandez-"

"Now, Brittany. I loathe finding gum stuck under a table
or on a chair."

Aileen tore up cards from all but five students. The
eleven offenders looked unhappy, but it was the fastest way
to break them of the habit of copying without properly
citing the source.

Aileen stopped at the last desk. She frowned at the card
and picked it up. Finally she handed it back to the student.
"What does this mean? Walls & gerfedy? she asked, intrigued.

The boy squinted at the words. "You know, walls and
the stuff written on them."

"Oh. Graffiti." Aileen bit her lower lip to keep from smiling, which would have embarrassed the boy even more. She turned to face the students. "In this class, spelling counts.
I take points off for misspelled words, so use your dictionaries."

Glancing at the clock, she said, "Please hand in your
work. Since this is Friday, there's no homework. Enjoy the
weekend."

The students cheered.

In the hall she ran into Steve. They walked to the parking
lot together.

"So, how's married life?" he asked.

"Fine. I can recommend it. You should try it."

"Not me!" he protested. "I'm too young to be tied down.
I'm like a busy bee: too many flowers out there that need
servicing. Know what I mean?" he asked with a wink.

"Yes, and your simile is trite."

"I bet you'd flunk me if I were in your class."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Aileen said.

"It amazes me how a woman as attractive as you can be
so tough."

Aileen stopped walking to look at him with a frown.
"What does one thing have to do with the other? Are you
saying that only unattractive female teachers should have
high expectations and demand quality work?"

Steve ignored her question. "You know what I always
expected to happen? You and me becoming an item."

Aileen just shook her head. "I'm parked over there. Have
a nice weekend, Steve."

When she approached her car, she stopped, surprised.
Quint seemed at ease, leaning against the trunk, and yet she
sensed an aura of tension around him. He wore sunglasses
and, though she couldn't see his eyes, she was certain
they'd assumed the hard glitter of emeralds. "What's
wrong? What happened? What are you doing here, Quint?"

"Nothing's wrong. I had to pick up some calf medicine. Thought I'd stop by to see you. Maybe take my wife to
lunch. That is, if you aren't going to lunch with
that... Steve."

"Why would I go to lunch with him?"

"Maybe because he has the hots for you? Has he made
a move on you?" Quint demanded, uncoiling his body,
ready to spring into action.

Aileen blinked. She had never seen Quint like this. So
...belligerent. "Steve hasn't made advances," she said, not
entirely sure if that were true or not. "In any event, I can
handle Steve. Puleese, as the kids say."

Quint seemed to relax a little. Suddenly it hit Aileen:
Wasn't Quint acting like a man who was just a tad jealous?
Oh, if only it were so!

"You want to get some lunch?" he asked.

"Sure," she agreed with a smile. "You know what I
haven't had yet this summer? One of those big ice cream
sundaes with strawberries and chocolate sauce and nuts on
top. Doesn't that sound good on a hot day like today?"

"Darlin', you're a cheap date," Quint drawled.

"I know. Simple tastes and frugal habits. Can't help it."
She sighed dramatically.

A car horn honked at them. Steve passing by. Quint
placed one arm possessively around Aileen while he raised
the other in a casual wave.