The Principal's Office (3 page)

By God, the cheapest model was only fifteen dollars, batteries included. It didn’t cost much more than the real maple syrup she bought for the boys. She deserved it. The salesclerk bagged it up in a pretty pink tote, and Rachel stepped out into the bright noon sun.

January was just about to turn into February, yet the day was actually hot, an unheard-of seventy-five degrees, which was relatively cool in the summertime but overheated her now. Looking down to snap her purse closed, she slammed into a solid stalk of human male.

“Oomph.” She dropped the pink bag, which landed with a
thunk
on the sidewalk. Dammit. Had she broken her vibrator before she even used it?

“Sorry. Let me get that for you.”

Rachel couldn’t breathe. That voice. It was him. The Viking. And he was touching her bag, the shop’s name, Pleasure Time, clearly printed on it in fancy red scroll.

He rose until he towered over her, and God, her heart started to race.

“We meet again.”

“Yes.” Did that come out as a squeak? At her back, the shop’s window was ablaze with red thongs, sexy brassieres, barely there lingerie. Thank God there were no sex toys on display, but still, her cheeks were as red as the thong panties.

“Buying something for a special occasion?” His voice burrowed deep inside her as he handed over the bag.

He’d realize it was too heavy for lingerie. Did he know the additional merchandise the store carried in a tastefully appointed section in the back? “A gag gift,” she said quickly.

He didn’t back off, and his heat singed her, a tactile reminder of the way his body had slid along hers as he’d rescued the juice for her in the grocery store. She thought of all the fantasies she’d woven around him, the Viking raider carrying her off, how she’d wanted to touch herself that first night, but she hadn’t because the boys were home. But last night, oh yes, last night, she’d succumbed to those fantasies. It wasn’t enough. She needed more. She needed the vibrator. The one in the bag he’d retrieved for her.

Yet, in this moment, even
that
wouldn’t do. She needed
him
. She could feel her pulse beating at her throat, her breath quickening, the heat burgeoning down low. She’d never been highly sexed—too many other things to worry about, like kids and a depressed husband and money—so why did this man suddenly set her on fire?

“A second accidental meeting deserves a coffee. Join me?”

The sun was hot on her hair. She felt people scurrying around them, heard voices, the traffic on the road, distant honks, the roar of a jet overhead from nearby San José Airport, but it all receded as if suddenly they were alone in the bubble of her personal space. She wanted to say yes so badly that she even opened her mouth. Then she thought of Nathan’s anger. She thought of how it would only grow worse if she started dating. God forbid she should ever bring a man home. It wasn’t worth it. When she considered the consequences, the vibrator was a steal at fifteen bucks.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t date.” Then her face flamed anew. It was coffee, not a date. She’d made too much of a presumption.

“I don’t date either. Tell you what,” he said, his voice quiet, his lips curved in a slight smile. “If we meet again, you’ll say yes.”

He didn’t date? What did that mean? Whatever. The chances they’d meet again were exceedingly low. Twice was coincidental. It was actually a bit freaky that she’d seen him here, since she hadn’t been to Santana Row since it first opened. “I really don’t think—”

He cut her off with his finger to her lips. “Then don’t think. Say yes.”

His touch actually made her feel faint with a flare of desire. She’d been married so long, seventeen years, she could barely remember what lust felt like. She’d had two lovers before Gary, but it had all seemed to be fast, unsatisfying fumbling. Even with Gary, had it been like
this
, a burning need deep inside? They said some women burned hotter as they got older. Only months away from her fortieth birthday, maybe she was one of them.

“Move your lips,” he murmured, “and say yes.”

What was the big deal? It was just coffee. “All right. Coffee. If we meet again.”

He smiled, two sexy dimples appearing at the sides of his mouth. “Done.” He stepped back, and she missed his warmth. “It’s
when
, not
if
, because we will meet again.” Then he turned.

“Wait.”

He waited, without a word.

“You’re not married, are you?”

“No.” He looked at her hand. “And neither are you.” Then his stride ate up the sidewalk. His black slacks seemed form-fitted to his butt. His muscles rippled beneath his white shirt, and even without a suit jacket, the tie had declared him a businessman. A CEO? Yes, he’d be in charge.

Someone knocked into her arm, apologized, a woman who’d been trying to squeeze past her and a man coming in the opposite
direction. Rachel was just standing in the middle of the sidewalk watching the Viking’s ass as his tall figure receded.

She hadn’t even asked his name. He hadn’t asked hers. He was leaving it to chance.

Suddenly Rachel wasn’t so sure she wanted to leave everything to chance. Maybe the vibrator wasn’t going to be enough. Maybe she was going to need the real thing.

“DO YOU WANT TO GO OUT FOR HAPPY HOUR?”

Rachel could only stare at Bree Mason. She was pretty, with long black hair and a tall, slender figure. Bree was DKG’s accountant, and she’d just finished checking Rachel’s work on the payables and receivables input. It was one of the new skills Rachel was picking up to make herself more marketable.

“Um.” For a moment, it was all that came out. Rachel was rarely at a loss for words. Some might even say—like Yvonne Colbert, their inside sales manager—that Rachel talked too much. But not now. It was shock. Because Bree had
never
wanted to go out after hours. She was quiet, kept to herself, and after work, she vanished like a puff of smoke. She didn’t socialize. In fact, she didn’t talk much at all, and the several times Rachel had asked if she wanted to go to lunch, Bree had always said no. That didn’t hurt Rachel’s feelings; it was Bree’s nature. Rachel accepted that.

At five to five on Tuesday, the factory was quiet; the techs started early and left early. Yvonne was talking softly on the phone in her office. Erin was in Dominic’s lab with the door
closed. A husband-and-wife team, they’d owned and operated DKG for ten years.

Bree didn’t look eager, her expression flat, as if her invitation was completely normal. A couple of times in the past few months, Bree had opened up about her father’s illness. He’d passed away a short time ago. Maybe she needed to forget her sorrows for a little while. It certainly wasn’t a usual request for her, but it wasn’t a usual time either. She needed a friend, and Rachel figured she was the closest thing to a friend Bree had. Yeah, that was it, Bree finally needed her.

Rachel wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass by. It might never happen again. “I’m free. My ex has the boys this week.”

“Good.” Bree started shutting down her computer. Then, her hand hovering over the mouse, she turned.

Rachel suddenly felt nervous under her dark stare. “What?”

“You should go to night school and get your AA degree. You’re good with accounting.”

It was Rachel’s turn to stare. Go to college? She didn’t have a moment to spare.

“More money,” Bree answered as if Rachel had actually said something.

“I don’t have time. The boys. Plus it costs money for books and classes and all that stuff.”

“Erin pays educational fees in the line of duty.”

“But I’m a receptionist.”

“You’re my accounting clerk, too.”

Bree was helping her acquire some accounting skills, but that didn’t make her an
accounting
anything. “I just don’t think—” What? That she wasn’t capable of it? Rachel admitted to herself that she wasn’t the college type. She’d married Gary early, and that was that.

Bree shrugged. “Just a thought.” She started closing all her open windows on the computer.

Could she do it? Maybe. Yes, probably. If Gary was good enough for accounting, so was she. But now wasn’t the right time, the boys, getting settled, yadda, yadda. It wouldn’t solve her immediate problems anyway; Nathan would have a fit if she spent money on school before she paid for his driving lessons. Maybe later she’d think about it, and she pushed the idea aside. “I’ll get my purse,” Rachel said.

Bree merely smiled and nodded.

Twenty minutes later they were seated in a booth at a nearby restaurant that served happy-hour drinks and provided a free appetizer buffet in their bar area, which was amazing in today’s economy where nothing was free anymore. The bartenders were pouring drinks, the music was playing, and the bar was absolutely packed. Thank God they’d gotten the last available booth, even if it was in a corner by the restrooms, because the place was now standing room only. Maybe the restaurant made up for the free food with the amount of alcohol that was flowing. Rachel had elbowed her way through the buffet line, figuring the appetizers could pass for tonight’s dinner, and she’d ordered the half-priced white wine.

Their drinks arrived, and Rachel raised her glass. “I want to make a toast,” she said above the din. “Here’s to how well you handled Denton Marbury.”

Even in the bar’s dim lighting, Bree’s blush was obvious. “Thanks.”

Marbury was their outside accountant, a CPA, who did the taxes and other governmental filings. He and Bree had had a little run-in. Even Rachel had heard
that
blowout, with Marbury doing all the blowing, right out of his—
Oops, language.

“And you actually called him instead of sending an email telling him his services were no longer needed.” Rachel marveled. She knew it took a lot of courage, especially since it meant Bree would have to handle the IRS audit coming up in a couple of weeks.

Bree dipped her head, studying the tabletop. “Don’t you think I should have done it face-to-face?”

Rachel snorted. “
Drive
over there? What a waste of time. No, a phone call is as face-to-face as you needed to be.”

Bree nodded, looking up again. “It was important for me to
say
it. And not let him steamroll over me.”

“Well, then, you should be really proud of yourself.” Rachel knew all about not sticking up for yourself, wishing you’d handled it differently, et cetera, et cetera.

Finally meeting her gaze, Bree nodded. “I am.”

“Good,” Rachel said. “Anyway, I know you’re going to be taking on more stuff, so anything you need to off-load on me, I’d be happy to do it.” It was win-win; Bree got help, and Rachel got clerical accounting experience she could use to beef up her resume.

“I’ll find some more for you, don’t worry.” Bree tucked her hair behind her ear, her face still slightly flushed from Rachel’s praise.

“How’s everything going with your mom? She doing okay?” Rachel’s parents were both living. They were back in the Midwest, so she didn’t get to see them often, but she didn’t want to even imagine losing one of them.

“My mom’s stoic. She’ll be fine.”

That being Bree’s stock line, it wasn’t the first time Rachel had heard it. “And you? Are you okay?”

Bree smiled then. It wasn’t self-deprecating. It wasn’t even sad. “I’m actually pretty good, too. I…” She stopped, looked at her hands a moment. “I’m better than when I started crying in front of you. A lot better.”

That had happened two months ago, when her father started going downhill fast. Bree hadn’t told anyone else at DKG, but she’d confided in Rachel. “I’m glad to hear that.” Rachel touched her hand briefly, afraid to hold on too long. Bree was skittish. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“You’re a good friend, Rachel.”

Not really. Rachel had a feeling that Bree didn’t have friends, just work associates. So why had she invited Rachel out? “I get the feeling you want to talk about something.”

Again, Bree smiled, then shook her head. “I just thought it would be nice to…” She shrugged and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t go out a lot…with friends. Maybe it’s time I started.”

Wow
. Rachel was honored Bree had chosen her, but she was sort of at a loss as to what to say to keep the conversation going. “I met a man.”
Oops
. Rachel almost covered her mouth. She hadn’t meant to talk about that with anyone. “But I’m not sure I should date him. I mean, I’ve been divorced less than six months.” Can anyone say motormouth? But then she realized she wanted to talk about it. Bree wouldn’t gossip. “The boys wouldn’t be happy at all with me dating.”

Bree munched thoughtfully on a tortilla chip. Rachel had gotten a small assortment of things from the buffet, but Bree just had the chips. Rachel was eating the rest; after all, it was her dinner.

“Does their dad date?”

Rachel tipped her head. It hadn’t occurred to her to even think about it. During the last few years, Gary hadn’t had much of a libido. He’d said it was work. He was an accounting manager for a division of some huge conglomerate, and he’d hated his job. He claimed he didn’t have anything left over when he got home. Gary and sex? Gary and dating? “I don’t think so.” Maybe Gary’s lack of libido had been part of the reason Rachel’s had disappeared. There was only so much rejection you could take before you stopped asking. But it was certainly returning now.

Suddenly she
needed
to talk about her Viking. “I don’t know his name. And I don’t want a relationship or anything. But sometimes I think about—” She stopped. She didn’t know Bree well to reveal her sexual fantasies. In fact, she didn’t discuss sex with anyone. It just wasn’t something she’d ever done.

With that same look on her face that could have meant anything, Bree said, “If you don’t want to have a relationship, then just have sex with him.”

It was as if the whole bar went stone quiet. Rachel could have heard a pin drop. Not really, but she was in such complete shock that she felt like she’d lost her hearing. All she could see were a bunch of mouths moving out in the crowd and faces contorted with laughter. “I can’t believe you said that.”