The Rebound Girl (Getting Physical) (4 page)

Chapter Three

Matt loved his job.

All jokes and stereotypes about male kindergarten teachers aside, he liked going home at the end of the day knowing he’d accomplished something good, that lives were being changed for the better because of his small place in them. He’d never been one to pursue grand ambitions, and he liked to think he’d once been happy.

Work, wife, home. A simple lineup—but then, he’d never professed to be anything but a simple man.

Unfortunately, with one of the key ingredients missing, Matt had moved well beyond simple into dismal territory. It was a fact he felt keenly, never more so than on days like today, when no fewer than three kids had meltdowns before lunch and all he wanted was to go home to a friendly face.

So much for transforming into the free-wheeling bachelor Lincoln wanted him to be. So much for meeting incredible women in bars and taking advantage of what they had to offer.

As the bell rang, signaling freedom, Matt stepped out of the two-story brick schoolhouse, a historic building with ample charm and not nearly enough electrical outlets, with his line of students in tow. Half of them vibrated with pent-up energy, while the other half appeared ready for an afternoon nap.
A
nap
sounds
about
right
.

Visions of his couch and the deep reaches of sleep beckoned warmly. Or rather, they began to beckon warmly. All thoughts of sleep fled the second he caught a bright flash of color the same shade of a traffic cone standing in the schoolyard.

The color itself wasn’t unusual. The woman attached to it, however,
was
—bold, daring, leaning against a tree and presumably waiting for him.

He did his best to ignore Whitney’s concentrated stare as he handed the children off, one by one, to parents and babysitters. What on earth was she doing here? And how had she found him?

She
has
your
ID
information
,
dummy
. She could probably steal his identity if she wanted to. Run a background check. Stalk him to the ends of the earth.

He’d never been stalked before.

Matt’s pulse picked up, clearly enjoying the idea, but he tamped the sensation down. She’d probably left something behind at the diner, or maybe her friend failed to show up yesterday morning and she wanted to exact payment in Lincoln’s blood. Nothing big. Nothing at all like what his overactive and apparently workplace-inappropriate imagination had in mind.

Two of the more persistent moms lingered long after everyone else cleared away, and he had to force himself to greet them with a semblance of calm, to avoid Whitney’s oppressive gaze. As much as he might want to run screaming into the school right now, taking a much-needed time out in the corner, he had to man up and face these women.

All
three
of
them
.

The two parents he knew as Tara and Nadine were both single moms, both taking care of robust boys who routinely pushed their boundaries using physical force against the smallest kids. They weren’t bad—they just needed a strong male presence.

The boys. Not the moms.

“I was hoping to set up a time to talk to you about Tommy’s reading.” Nadine tugged her squirming son to stay by her side. She had red hair that passed in a tumble of curls to her mid-back and always dressed in a sweater with a deep v-neck, no matter what the weather. “I’m so happy with what you’re doing—I just want to take it to the next level, you know?”

The sound of a deep, feminine chortle filled the air.

“Of course,” Matt said, doing his best to ignore Whitney. He wished he knew what she wanted. He wished he knew whether the curve of those lips carried mockery or something else...something that coiled down toward his groin and gave an insistent tug. “Why don’t I send Tommy home with a book list that you two can work on together?”

Before Nadine could say anything more, Tara pushed her way forward, a plate of something warm and cinnamony in her hand. Even though she often brought baked goods with her, she looked as though she never ate any. She and her son Giovanni dressed almost exclusively in athletic gear, she in those tight black pants women liked to exercise in and he in matching tracksuits, one color for each day of the week.

She pressed a plate of cookies in his hand and beamed. “Right out of the oven. Oatmeal pecan—it’s my great-granny’s recipe.”

Matt held the plate a little farther out from his body. He was deathly allergic to pecans. “Thank you.” She seemed to expect something else, so he paused for a moment before adding, “Did, ah, you guys get the notice about the field trip next week? I think we’re still short a few chaperones, so if you’re free...”

“Oh, I’m free. Absolutely. Count me in.” The words were shot rapid-fire. As her clothes indicated, Tara was very energetic.

“I’d love to help too, but my job as a legal secretary keeps me so busy during the day, you know?” Nadine’s job as a legal secretary had been mentioned so many times throughout the course of the school year Matt sometimes heard it in his sleep. “We didn’t all divorce a big-shot director with alimony to spare. But I can volunteer in the evenings. Any time.”

Matt smiled and nodded, awkwardly holding the cookies so far out a bird could have swooped down and taken every last one. He appreciated that Tara and Nadine took an active interest in their kids, but he hadn’t yet learned how to straddle the line between professionally friendly and not interested.

He fought a sigh. This sort of thing had never happened before the divorce.

Whitney, of course, seemed to take all of this in at a glance, sensing his distress—not that she appeared to have any plans to save him. As though she’d come by merely to spectate, she continued resting against the tree, managing to look amused and relaxed at the same time.

Don’t
just
stand
there
—
help
me
, he mouthed, being careful not to draw the attention of the two women, who had squared off to discuss the comparative merits of being a working mom versus a stay-at-home one. Nadine and her legal secretary background were currently in the lead.

He thought for a minute that maybe Whitney misunderstood or was willfully ignoring him, but with a slow, satisfied smile, she pushed off from the tree and sauntered over as if she owned the place. That had to be a thing of hers—that sense of entitlement. It seemed somehow ingrained.

“Hello, ladies,” she said coolly. A quick appraisal determined that she wasn’t wearing anything low cut or revealing, being dressed in skintight jeans and a bright orange top, but she still seemed to swell larger than life, taking over all the air and space.

Or maybe that was just him.

“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Whitney.” She extended her arm, confident and strong, holding it there until the women had no choice but to take it. “I’m so sorry to have to whisk your child’s teacher away like this, but I’m having a bikini wax in an hour and Matt always holds my hand during the appointment.”

She
did
not
just
—

Whitney clasped his hand and beamed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And then we always take that baby out for a test drive.”

She
did
.

But even as Matt’s face burned and he heard echoes of the adage to watch out for cures that were worse than the disease, he felt a smile form on his lips. Maybe he would have adopted a more subtle approach, but there was no denying Whitney’s version got results. He had a feeling she always got results.

“Oh, my stars, I had no idea.” Nadine cocked her head and stared at Matt. “You have got to be the sweetest man on the face of the planet.”

“Thank you,” he managed, striving to keep a straight face. “I try.”

“You are so lucky,” Tara added, her words directed warmly at Whitney. “I couldn’t even get Gio’s daddy to come to the ultrasounds.”

“I know.” Whitney wrapped an arm around Matt’s waist and squeezed him. “And you wouldn’t believe how great he is with those hands.”

Both women looked down at his hands with interest. As far as he could tell, they were just hands, chapped from excessive washing but otherwise unremarkable.

“He gives great foot rub,” she added. “Honestly, though, I’m just so grateful to have him in my life. And I know he just loves those kids of yours. It takes a special kind of man to step up for this kind of job. He’s society’s hero, if you ask me. A real pillar of the community.”

Tara and Nadine nodded, beaming at him.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Tara grabbed the plate from Matt and foisted it into Whitney’s hands. “You enjoy those cookies, both of you.”

“Thank you. We will.” Whitney smiled, taking over the conversation with ease, her lips rolling over the word
we
in a way that made Matt’s insides grow taut with expectation. “And I’ll make sure this gorgeous man of mine brings the plate back when we’re done.”

They stood chatting for a few more moments before the moms took their leave, crises averted, now on perfectly amiable terms with one another.

Matt took a moment to squat to the boys’ level, careful to look them both in the eye. “Remember what I said about your homework tonight. What is it we’re working on, again?”

Giovanni scowled. “I’m s’posed to say
please
and
thank
you
, ’specially to my mom.”

He ignored the outburst of feminine “awwws” at Giovanni’s recitation. It wasn’t doing these kids any favors for them to think being polite was anything other than what they owed every fellow human being. “And I think you’ll do great at it. What else? James?”

“Look for shapes and write ’em in our journals. My Wii is a white square. I already know that one.”

“You might try looking outside too. There are some really good shapes in nature.” He stood and brushed off his knees. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?”

He refused to make eye contact with Whitney as Tara and Nadine dragged their sons away, fearful that any sort of acknowledgement of what had just happened would have him rolling on the ground in tears of laughter.

Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t acutely aware of her watching him. He defied anyone to ignore that kind of intensity—they might as well try to turn off the sun. But then she picked up one of the cookies and began nibbling, so he jumped away.

“Pecan allergy,” he explained when one of her eyebrows rose. “One crumb will send me to the hospital.”

“Then why didn’t you tell Tara that?”

It was a good question. And the answer—that strong, forceful women scared the crap out of him—didn’t seem like a confession he should make if he planned on getting out of this situation alive. “I was being polite.”

“You’d risk anaphylactic shock for the sake of being nice?”

“I’ve risked a lot worse.”

“Good thing I’m a doctor,” she added.

“You are?” That didn’t seem right. A doctor was upright and professional and...staid. Whitney, this city girl with a strangely overpowering pull on him, was not.

She smirked. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. At least not yet. Which is why I think I’ll let you thank me over a cup of coffee.”

“Coffee?” That sounded suspiciously like what he’d offered the other night...and what she’d turned down flat, claiming a disinterest in daytime activities. “What’s the catch?”

Her grin grew and she took a few predatory steps forward. “No catch. Can’t a girl take a man out for a hot beverage of the bean variety? Can’t two consenting adults share a plate of something delicious and pecan-free?”

The way her voice dropped over the word
consenting
spiked straight to his groin. His powers of resistance were only so strong. He
was
human, after all.

She laughed, a rough, low sound that didn’t help matters any. “That’s what I thought. Meet me at Java Rocket in half an hour?”

He hesitated, not because he wasn’t interested, but because he
was
. It had been so long since he’d felt that surge—anticipation and curiosity and the stirrings of lust all at the same time—and he was almost afraid he’d forgotten how it was supposed to work. Women. Coffee. Dating.

Sex.

“I won’t take no for an answer.” Whitney picked up one of the cookies and waved it in his face.

“Is this how you get dates?” he couldn’t help asking, even though they both knew he was well on his way to capitulation. Who was he kidding? He was already there. He wanted coffee with this woman in ways that had to be illegal in at least ten states. “Threatening a man with bodily harm?”

“Oh, honey.” Whitney laughed and tossed her hair. She took his assent as a matter of course and turned toward the parking lot. “No one said anything about this being a date.”

* * *

“How did you do that back there, anyway?” Matt balanced two cups of coffee and a huge wedge of chocolate cake as he approached their table.

Chocolate and table service. Matt might be a bit quieter than the guys she usually went after but, damn, did he know how to woo a girl.

“How did you turn Nadine and Tara around like that without their knowing?”

“Easy.” She grabbed a fork. “I was nice.”

He shook his head and studied her intently. After what felt like a full minute he said, “No. That wasn’t it.”

“I beg your pardon?” Whitney was used to men looking at her—she wasn’t without her faults, obviously, but her bright colors and tight pants weren’t exactly subtle cues, the human equivalent of a bright red baboon ass waggling under the trees. While she definitely read interest in Matt’s sharp blue eyes, it was tempered with something else. Disdain, almost. As though she wasn’t quite up to his usual standards.

Damn if that look didn’t make her want to prove him wrong. It was the only reason she could give for being so persistent in her pursuit of him, coming to his place of work and accosting complete strangers on the playground. She wasn’t normally the one doing all the work.