Trouble Me: A Rosewood Novel (18 page)

The first sentence out of Christy’s mouth indicated just how much she cared about her son’s new school. “I can’t possibly volunteer for anything right now—I have too many important obligations.” Her second was no more endearing. “However, I will be meeting with Mr. Guerra next week. Eugene needs a more advanced curriculum than the one you’re offering. I can tell he’s bored.”

Jade’s eyebrows shot up. The comment about the curriculum was a bit rich, as the Harrisons hadn’t even heard what the year’s curriculum encompassed. “Actually, the second-grade curriculum is quite varied. As you will see, we cover a good bit of ground.”

“Then maybe Eugene’s boredom stems not so much from the curriculum as from
his present teacher
,” she murmured with a superior smirk, before she and her snob of a husband turned away to go park themselves behind Eugene’s desk.

Jade had no time to react because yet another mother appeared before her. Easy to guess who it was; Mrs. Cerra was practically vibrating with anxiety, so nervous, one would have thought it was she who was about to speak before the assembled adults. Patiently, Jade listened as she recited Deirdre’s allergies, wondering all the while whether Mrs. Cerra thought she couldn’t read. Jade had already received—and read—several notes warning her of Deirdre’s susceptibility to pollen, dander, and mold.

“I’m just so worried that the upcoming field trip to the apple orchard will be too much for her. Of course, I know how much Deirdre would enjoy the outing,” she finished, looking desperately unhappy to be faced with such a dilemma.

“Perhaps you’d like to volunteer as a chaperone on the trip, Mrs. Cerra. That way, if Deirdre does have a problem with her allergies, you’ll be on hand. The sign-up sheet is right here.” While Mrs. Cerra bent like a human question mark over the table to read the sign-up sheet with a diligence usually reserved for legal documents, Jade glanced at her watch. Four minutes before seven. She was determined to start on the dot—and end just as punctually.

She crossed the classroom to lower the projection screen and then turned to her desk to open the PowerPoint program. She heard yet another group of parents entering the room but kept her gaze focused on the screen. They could say their hellos and sign up—or not—for whatever activity piqued their interest after her presentation.

When the first slide appeared on the screen, she drew a breath and straightened, ready to greet the assembled parents.

Her gaze swept the wide semicircle of adult faces. When she got to where Hayley’s metal-and-wood desk was positioned and to the lone man sitting behind it, she stalled.

It couldn’t be.

It was.

T
HEIR EYES
met and locked in a clash of intense blue and green. For days she had been steeling herself, prepared for his disapproval. But it was her own stark horror as she recognized the strikingly handsome man in the deep-blue shirt—the very shirt she’d stripped off his muscular torso—that left her reeling.

She obviously had the absolute worst luck in the world. Of all the people in Warburg, Rob Cooper was the one she most wanted to convince that she’d become an upstanding, straitlaced, buttoned-up,
respectable
person, a proper elementary-school teacher.

Yet barely a month ago, she’d been writhing and moaning for him—without a stitch or a button on.

How could
he
be the guy she’d slept with in Norfolk, the guy who’d given her an unforgettable night of scorching sex? Giantlike in Hayley’s chair, Rob Cooper looked way too stiff to know how to do half the stuff they’d done together. But though she’d have given the last penny she owned to be wrong, she knew that cleft chin; she’d traced the beard-roughened indentation with the tip of her tongue. She knew those blue eyes as well. When he’d pushed himself deep inside her, those same eyes had seared her, electric and sizzling hot.

He was watching her just as intently now. But the effect was quite different: His glare was as cold—and as terrifying—as a nuclear winter.

So he’d recognized her. Great, just great.

The tiny part of her that had been hoping against hope that he would fail to connect her with the woman he’d met in Norfolk withered beneath his icy stare. Of course, with her lousy luck, she should have realized that would have been as likely as winning the Lotto.

He’d obviously identified her and was probably fantasizing about throwing her in jail for the next twenty years.

Life was so unfair. If he’d looked like this in Norfolk, so stern and condemning, she’d never have agreed to dance with him, let alone take him upstairs to her hotel room—God, why hadn’t she recognized him? He’d been the bogeyman of her youth.

A dreadful answer sprang to mind. Maybe she
had
recognized him. Maybe she was such a twisted mess of a human being that some part of her had known precisely who he was and opted to spend a night rolling between the sheets with him anyway.

No
, she thought with a mental shake. Not even at her most self-destructive would she have gone near Officer Rob Cooper, Warburg’s very own RoboCop. He was too darned scary.

Another image of them together—of her body straining against his as he entered her from behind, of his hands fondling and stroking her breasts while he drove deep inside her, touching her core while she shuddered and trembled around him—had her wishing the floor would open up and swallow her whole. But it didn’t, and she was left standing there, exposed to the chilling blast of his anger.

The discordant squeak of chairs and the restless stir and shift of bodies abruptly reminded her of the seventeen couples who were also staring at her. How many minutes had elapsed while they’d been waiting for her to start, waiting for her to say something? The smug smile on Christy Harrison’s lips answered her: too long.

Damn
. She had to pull herself together or she’d compound the disaster by messing up her presentation. She could do this. She simply had to pretend Rob Cooper wasn’t there. If she didn’t look at him, it would be as if he didn’t exist. No biggie. Out of sight, out of mind …

Did anyone actually believe in this positive-thinking malarkey? she wondered, fighting a rising panic. How could she possibly ignore him when he sat there, a living, breathing reminder of her latest screwup?

And, man, he really had the whole wrath-of-God act down pat, didn’t he?

Just focus on the freakin’ screen
, she told herself.

The roaring in his ears made it impossible to hear a single detail of Hayley’s supposed curriculum. Nor had he been able to focus on the projection screen; his gaze had narrowed to one and only one object: her.

He couldn’t believe it, had nearly fallen off his under-size plastic chair when she looked over at him and he saw Jade Radcliffe for the first time in years and,
click
, an image of his sinfully sexy siren—naked and writhing beneath him—was superimposed over demure Miss Radcliffe, his little girl’s idol.

Jesus H. Christ, there she was, standing in front of the class in a slim skirt that fell nearly to her ankles, ballet flats, and a simple buttoned top, the very picture of innocence and modesty, gulling everyone as she talked calmly about God only knew what, and all he could think about was what she was hiding beneath that schoolmarm outfit: an impossibly sexy body that was all taut curves and silken flesh.

And he’d touched and tasted every sweet inch of it.

Memories hot and vivid flashed in his mind.

He thought of the blue-violet butterfly that floated just below her hip bone, remembered pressing his mouth against it and feeling her skin quiver beneath his lips,
recalled the tangy taste of her when he’d drawn his tongue slowly down her cleft and probed her slick heat. He could hear the exact pitch of her moan as he thrust into her, filling her, driving them both toward the edge, and it was enough to make him want to jump out of his chair and drag her out of the classroom and …

Do what exactly?
a voice asked.

That was the hell of it. He was damned if he knew what to do in such a situation.

Jade would never say another condescending word about people who read aloud verbatim from their PowerPoint presentations. With Rob Cooper’s furious gaze fixed unwaveringly on her, it was a miracle she’d managed that much. Even then she’d been forced to lean against her teacher’s desk to support her trembling legs. The edge of it had bitten deep, leaving grooves in her palms.

She tried not to rush through the last slide, which showed the kids working on the diorama of the Nile, and squelched the impulse to sprint out of the room when the screen went blank.

Then she was surrounded by chattering parents and was absurdly grateful to talk at length to them; Rob Cooper wasn’t among the group.

“I just wanted to tell you how much Sam is enjoying the year so far. I simply love the picture he drew of himself with our dog, Barney.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Mrs. Powell. Sam’s a lot of fun. He’s got a very developed sense of humor.” To the delight of the other boys in the class, Sam had brought a whoopee cushion in for show-and-tell. After the gut-busting laughs—which had Sam, Kyle, Jay, Chris, James, and even Eugene Harrison rolling on the floor—had subsided, Jade steered the discussion to other funny noises: the trumpeting of an elephant, the rumbling of a
hungry stomach, the croaking of a bullfrog. Alana had raised her hand and said she thought the funniest sound was her little sister’s laugh. The show-and-tell session had led to the prompt for the day’s journal entry: writing about the funniest noise ever.

“Older brothers,” Mr. Powell explained with an apologetic shrug. “Speaking of which, we better go see what the gang’s been up to. We’ve got our thirteen-year-old twins, Charlie and Derek, babysitting. To avoid any disasters, we took the precaution of telling the three of them that Officer Cooper would be here tonight and that if there was any trouble, he’d be coming by the house later in his patrol car. Good to meet you, Miss Radcliffe. Bye, Rob.”

Jade could only nod. The huge lump lodged in her throat made speech impossible. She’d been so busy
not
looking, she hadn’t realized Rob was the last parent left in the room. She wished there was somebody else; she’d have been happy to listen to Christy Harrison in all her glittering disdain.

What to say to him? Something along the lines of:
Hiya, stranger. Missed me?
Yeah, right. She’d rather be dragged over burning coals than admit she knew what he looked like beneath that shirt—good God, it really was the one he’d been wearing that night in Norfolk.

He looked at her, his expression as far from friendly as Mars was from Earth. “From cruising bars to teaching seven-year-olds—you do it all, don’t you?”

She swallowed, and the lump that had been lodged in her throat sank right down to the pit of her stomach. It didn’t make speaking any easier, and she truly had no idea how to deal with the situation. Not that he was giving her a chance to speak. He’d already started again.

“So answer me this: Did you know who I was at the bar?”

Heat stole over her. “I—I—No—” She shook her head violently.

“Yeah, I think you did know,” he contradicted forcefully. “I think you wanted to screw me, in every sense of the word.”

She stared at him. “Are you nuts? I haven’t seen you in
years
. And you didn’t look like you.”

“Of course I did,” he replied. “Which means that you’re a liar.”

Her hands balled into tight fists at her sides. She could practically feel the steam shooting out of her ears. “No, it means you’re totally obtuse. I did
not
recognize you!”

He raised a mocking brow at her outburst. “If what you say is true, then that means you’re into random pickups with strangers. I’d say either of those makes you unsuitable to teach Hayley. I’m calling Ted Guerra tomorrow and having her transferred to Mrs. Creighton’s class.”

The pain of his announcement surprised her. After all, she’d already wondered how he’d react to her—someone he regarded as an ex–juvenile delinquent—teaching his daughter. That he’d had sex with her too clearly disgusted him. Well, in that respect, the feeling was mutual. She wasn’t exactly thrilled to discover her mystery lover was a moralistic prig.

And damn her body for reacting so traitorously. She shouldn’t be ridiculously aware of his nearness and the heat coming off his body or how infuriatingly sexy he looked even when filled with righteous disapproval. How could she be feeling the electric sizzle between them—the same as she’d felt on that dance floor—when she knew who he was and didn’t remotely like him?

But she
did
like Hayley, who was bright and eager to learn, and who was furthermore a deeply sensitive little girl. When Jade had discussed parents’ night with the class earlier in the day, she’d seen how hard it was for
Hayley when the other kids talked about their mothers
and
fathers being there. As someone who had lost her own parents, she understood the pain Hayley felt at such moments, how much the little girl must miss her mother. She thought she could help Hayley with some of the things she was going through … help her grow.