Teach Me a Lesson (28 page)

He was always pushing for more. When she said she wouldn’t spend the night, he forced himself into her house and tied her to the bed so she couldn’t kick him out. When she didn’t tell him what he wanted to know, he tried to use sex against her. The other night, hadn’t he said he was going to change the rules on her? Yes, he was taking over, first in the bedroom and now in her job.

“I don’t like this arrangement anymore, Principal Hutton. In fact, I’m canceling it.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means,” she stated flatly, “that I’m not playing the game anymore. I’m done. I’m your employee, and that’s all. If you want to fire me for that, then go ahead. Otherwise, get out of my office.”

He cocked his head. She was reminded of a TV show on Animal Planet where the predatory panther tipped his head just that way, right before he pounced. “I don’t think you really mean that.”

She stalked around him, opened the door, held it for him. “Thank you for coming, Principal Hutton. I appreciate your support in this matter. I will see you at the ten thirty meeting tomorrow.”

They weren’t alone. Out in the hall, a couple of faculty members were deep in conversation. Lance couldn’t argue. He couldn’t do a thing. Except leave the way she’d demanded.

He eyed her a moment longer. Until finally he moved, passing through the open door. “I’ll see you at the meeting.”

Charlotte closed the door and leaned back heavily against it.

God, it was a mess. They were taking Melody away from her just when the girl was starting to open up, and Charlotte had gone and kicked out the one person who might be able to help her. The problem was that Lance had decided the only way to help was by forcing her to betray a confidence. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t, but that meant she would ultimately fail Melody. It also meant she might soon lose her job at the high school.

And now she’d made sure she didn’t even have the principal to lean on.

* * *

IT DIDN’T MAKE SENSE. YES, HE’D TRIED THE DOM THING ON HER,
using sex to coerce her into revealing what Jeanine Smith told her. But sex was how they best communicated. All he’d wanted to do was make her see that she needed help dealing with Smith and that he was more than willing to do whatever was necessary to make the problem go away. Why couldn’t she accept that? Dammit, she simply couldn’t end things this way. He wouldn’t allow it.

Yet that very statement in the depths of his mind was the essence of the problem. He’d taken to the role of dom so easily because he was in fact domineering. Authority was part of his job, his career, his soul. But it was possible he’d taken it too far in his relationship with her. Good God, was it even the reason for his failure at marriage?

He was authoritative and dictatorial. That’s who he was. And that’s exactly what Charlotte had come to him for. She wanted to experience spanking, dominance, submission.

Obviously she hadn’t liked it as much as he had. But he didn’t need to have sex that way. He could take it any way she wanted.

Lance didn’t call Charlotte on Tuesday night. He didn’t show up on her porch with cuffs, rope, and condoms in his pocket. He wanted to let her calm down. Besides, he needed to think no less than she did. He had to figure out exactly where he’d gone wrong.

The Wednesday morning conference required more official surroundings than the original parent meeting. Lance had Mrs. Rivers prepare the coffee and show the Wrights and Smiths to the conference room. He would not be waiting for them. He would enter later, flanked by Charlotte and Alice Sloan, thus taking the upper hand. It was an us-against-them strategy.

After a brief tap, Mrs. Rivers opened the door enough to stick her head in. “They’ve got their coffee, Principal Hutton.” She was well aware of the strategy.

He met Alice and Charlotte in the hall. He’d already strategized with Alice who was in full agreement with him: They were not firing their best guidance counselor. He’d left it to Alice to appeal to Charlotte for her cooperation, not that there was any way Charlotte would reveal even one word of what was said in her therapy office.

She wore a sweater dress that hugged every curve and stole his breath. It emphasized her mouthwatering breasts. High heels showcased her shapely legs. She was perfect. Christ, he ached to touch her, literally ached deep in his bones. But the dress certainly didn’t tone down her sexuality. It was almost a statement: She wasn’t going to deny or justify.

She glared as if daring him to pick a fight about her choice. The fight he wanted wasn’t with her—there were so many other things he wanted to do with her, over and over—so he simply opened the door and flourished a hand for them to precede him. “Ladies.”

In a power-play move, Smith had taken the head of the table. There were, however, two heads. Lance took the other and indicated for his staff to flank him in the two chairs, Charlotte facing Jeanine Smith, who sat at the other end of the table next to her husband. Of course, this put Charlotte on the same side as the Wrights. Which might be a good thing.

“Thank you for coming,” Lance opened the meeting diplomatically. “As we discussed yesterday, if you wish to have Miss Moore terminated, we’ll need to hear the basis and review its merits.” There was an official review process, but he didn’t want that to even get started. For now, they were completely off the record, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Smith started with the finger-pointing, aiming straight at Lance as if they were now the two adversaries. “I want you to know I’ve looked at the school regulations, and since she’s only part-time we don’t have the same obligations as we would with a fully tenured teacher.”

Asshole. But he was correct. “You still need to prove Miss Moore has committed some sort of malfeasance.”

Smith puffed up his chest. “All we have to do is show that her personal life is detrimental to the fulfillment of her responsibilities at school.”

“This isn’t about my personal life,” Charlotte said. “It’s about my therapy work. And my work has nothing to do with my job at the school.”

“Right,” Smith snapped. “That’s like saying it’s okay for a drug addict to teach kids as long as he or she doesn’t bring drugs to school.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Charlotte said, disgust in every syllable.

“That analogy is spurious, Smith.” It also pointed out that Smith didn’t have any legitimate arguments to bring up.

“Mr. and Mrs. Wright,” Alice interjected, “we’ve assigned another counselor to Melody. Miss Moore will turn over her file—”

Kathryn Wright didn’t let her finish. “I don’t want anything she has to say going to Melody’s new counselor.”

“Mrs. Flannigan will need Melody’s history,” Alice insisted.

“Fine.” Kathryn leaned around her husband and pointed at Charlotte. “But not a thing from her. She’s biased toward me.”

“Mrs. Wright, I’m not biased,” Charlotte started. “But I’d really like to say a few words about Melody—”

“I’m not talking to you,” Kathryn Wright said in a silly singsong voice.

Charlotte closed her mouth in frustration, but there was more written on her face, a line of worry across her brow, something in the deep green of her eyes. Lance could only define it as sadness. His heart turned over for her. He was worried about her job. But she was only concerned for Melody.

“No, please,” Charlotte persisted. “I feel we had a small breakthrough yesterday. I’m not saying I have to be the one to work with her, but I really need to let Mrs. Flannigan understand the issues. For Melody’s sake.”

Smith jumped in as if her words were his cue. “It’s for Melody’s sake and students like her that we’re going to get rid of you and your disgusting influence.”

Lance was aware of a noise building outside the bank of chest-high windows at his back, perhaps from the quad, the third period was just ending. He couldn’t deal with it now; he needed to answer Smith.

“Whether Miss Moore is part-time or full-time, you need evidence to prove that her extracurricular activities negatively impact the performance of her job. That’s what we’re here for.” He put a hand out. “Where’s the proof?”

“I’ve started a petition for all the parents of the freshman class.” Kathryn Wright tapped a paper in front of her.

“We’ll go to the rest of the parents, too.” Steven. Of course.

“How many signatures do you have?” Lance fired back. The sounds outside were growing in intensity, becoming harder to ignore—was that chanting?—but he stared down Kathryn Wright.

“Well, I’ve just started,” she snapped. Which probably meant the only signatures she had were hers and her husband’s. “But when I tell them how she’s tried to turn Melody against me . . . ” She sniffed for effect without actually finishing the sentence.

“Mrs. Wright, I’m very sorry if my view on surgery offends you—”

“You don’t need to apologize, Miss Moore.” Lance meant it kindly, yet Charlotte glared at him.

Outside, the commotion had become a dull roar.

“What the hell is going on?” Smith said gruffly.

Then the conference door burst open, and the usually unruffled Mrs. Rivers stood framed in the doorway, panting as if she’d run the length of the hall. “Principal Hutton, you really need to get out here.”

Lance rose and moved to the windows.

“Holy hell,” he said.

Then he felt her beside him, Charlotte, her scent enveloping him, reactivating the need to touch that he’d felt when he first saw her.

She had to stand on tiptoe to see the full spectacle. “Oh my God.”

Then everyone peered out the bank of windows.

The quad undulated with students clapping, chanting, shouting, and waving signs that read “Don’t Fire Miss Moore” and “We Love Miss Moore.”

Suddenly the chanting had clarity. “We want Miss Moore. We want Miss Moore. We want Miss Moore.”

“Jesus Christ,” Smith muttered.

Smith’s plans might very well be dead in the water. And Lance hadn’t needed to do a thing.

23

CHARLOTTE COULD HARDLY BELIEVE WHAT SHE WAS SEEING.
Lance had led the way outside, and she was drawn along with him almost as if he had his hand on her. They stood on the quad steps above the crowd of students. On her other side, she could hear David Smith, his breath puffing, either from exertion or rage.

“What is the meaning of this?” he shouted at Lance.

The principal waved a hand across the throng. “You can see what it is. The students support Miss Moore completely.” He shot a sharp look at Mrs. Wright. “I don’t think you’re going to get a single signature on that petition.”

Kathryn Wright was, for once, speechless. Which meant her husband was, too.

“I won’t be bullied by a bunch of teenagers,” Mr. Smith blustered.

Then Lydia took two steps up the concrete stairs. As if the whole thing had been choreographed, the assembly fell silent, the air pregnant with anticipation.

“Principal Hutton, the student body has heard a rumor that you’re going to fire Miss Moore.”

Charlotte wanted to cry, her heart melting. Lance moved a step closer, so completely
there
beside her.

“And we’re here to tell you that she’s the best counselor any of us has ever had.”

A cheer rose like a roar from the crowd. Oh God, she was going to cry; really, she might not be able to stop it.

Lydia lifted her hand, and the throng at the base of the stairs parted. Two teenagers moved through the crowd, Melody and Eric, their hands linked.

“Do you see that?” Charlotte whispered without truly meaning to.

Lance heard. “I see it,” he answered softly. “I do believe you’ve worked a miracle.”

“Mom,” Melody called out.

Charlotte felt Kathryn Wright back up as if she were terrified the student body would maul her like rabid dogs.

“We all want to keep Miss Moore. You don’t know what she’s done for me.”

It was too much to take in. Charlotte covered her mouth.

“She’s the best, Mom. Don’t let her get fired.” This came from Eric. He wasn’t speaking to his stepdad, but to Jeanine.

Lance held both hands in the air, waiting for silence before he called out, “Everyone, you don’t need to worry. Miss Moore is here to stay if I have anything to say about it. And believe me, I do. I’m not letting her leave any of us.”

He glanced down at her, and she was sure there was more in his meaning than just her job.

“Now hold on a minute,” David Smith started.

A chorus of shouts came up from the crowded quad, and the principal shifted, his arm dropping as he if might actually backhand the chairman of the school board.

“David, shut up.” Jeanine. Standing next to Mr. Smith, Charlotte thought she was the only one who heard, but Lance turned his head.

“What did you just say?” Mr. Smith’s brow went up in shock.

“I told you to shut up, David. You will stop this immediately. Because if you don’t, I’ll tell everyone present exactly what I’ve been talking to Dr. Moore about in our sessions.” Amid the renewed shouting and chanting of the student body, the argument was drowned out except to those closest.

“But, but,” Smith began to splutter. “You wouldn’t.”

“I will. Believe me. I’ll tell ev-ery-thing,” Jeanine enunciated, staring him down, her back straight, nostrils flared, eyes narrowed. Good God, she’d become an Amazon. She’d at last found her backbone. “And I’m going back to talk to her as many times as I want. And you’re going to pay for it. Do you hear?”

“But—” His
but
became a lot less forceful now.

“Tell them she can stay.” Jeanine shot a piercing glare at Kathryn. “Don’t you dare contradict him unless you’ve got some really good proof she’s done anything wrong. And it better be able to stand up in court.”

If Melody’s mom had planned to say anything, she slapped her lips shut on it.

“Tell them, David.” Jeanine glared.

With one last look at his wife, Mr. Smith finally turned to the student body. “All right, she can stay,” he said softly.

“Louder,” Lance demanded.

Mr. Smith shouted for all to hear. “She can stay.”

“School is out for the holiday,” Lance’s voice boomed across the quad. “See you on Monday.”