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Irritation suddenly got the better of him. Smoothing his palms along his thighs, he felt his nostrils flare.
“Still the same old games, Miss Barnett?” he asked, knowing full well that no matter what had just transpired, there had never been a hint of flirtation in their dealings as teacher and student.
Her laughter dissolved to a stunned look that grabbed at his gut. The playful light drained from her eyes and with it the easiness she’d brought to the encounter. He deserved a swift kick for that stupid remark.
“You know, you could have slipped on the diving board or hit your head on the bottom,” he said, softening his tone as he lowered himself to his haunches. He laced his fingers together then let his hands dangle by the juncture of his thighs while he waited for her response.
Whether it was a wayward moment of guilt or the beginning step in a slow waltz of seduction, her gaze dropped to his wing tip shoes before traveling slowly to his mouth and then his eyes. She looked at him so long he began to think he was the one in danger of drowning.
“Christmas is coming. Where’s your holiday spirit?” she asked, breaking the stare as she plowed more hair from her forehead.
The action caused a generous portion of her breasts to rise out of the water. He caught sight of the tight and tempting twin rosettes of flesh before she repositioned her body against the wall of the pool. Too late; he was already remembering the pale expanse of her belly, the dark thatch below and the sensations they’d caused in him.
He rubbed at his brow with his thumbnail as he tried to locate one cell in his body that wasn’t being affected by her. Although Rebecca Barnett had never been easy to reason with in her high school days, at least she hadn’t complicated their exchanges with enough sexual sparks to blow up the high school. Pursing his lips in a thoughtful manner, he drew on his dominant role as teacher.
“If I remember correctly, you usually pulled these stunts with a few friends in tow.”
Twisting on the balls of his feet, he looked toward the gate, more to keep his gaze from tracing her delicate collarbone and the soft swells beneath it than to search for anyone else.
“So tell me, Miss Barnett, are we to expect another naked swimmer here anytime soon?”
From the corner of his eye he detected a slight change in her posture, a definite reangling of her chin and, finally, a lowering sweep of her lashes. His heart sank with the knowledge that he’d set something off inside her. A move he was sure he was going to regret.
In a voice thick with smoke and honey, she purred, “Not unless you’re volunteering, Mr. Hanlon.”
His gaze shot straight to hers. Everything he’d been trying not to think about poured into his mind and spilled over into his body. The moment hung hot and heavy between them until she had the grace to look away first. She scratched at the side of her nose.
“Oops. Am I getting detention for that one?”
Bracing his hands on his knees, he stood up. “Not this week,” he said, going along with the joke because there was no way he couldn’t.
The days were long gone when he could deal with her mischief by banishing her to detention. So were the days when he viewed her as a pretty, pain-in-the-butt teenager, a rebellious spirit who provoked him and the rest of the high school faculty as often as she could. Her selfconfidence remained, though, tempered by ten years of experiences he couldn’t begin to guess at. Except that those ten years had closed a gap between student and teacher. He went for her towel then took it to the side ladder.
“Am I getting evicted?” she asked, her body still hugging the wall as she pulled herself along the edge toward the ladder.
He draped the towel over the curved rail then turned to look at her.
“Not yet,” he said in the threateningly quiet tone he used with his college students. Professorial intimidation usually put a stop to any of their shenanigans, but Rebecca Barnett’s next teasing question told him, she wasn’t buying it.
“Am I getting to you, Mr. Hanlon?”
He stepped closer to the edge. “Miss Barnett,” he said, hoping to sound as dismissive as possible. “I assume by the looks of things that this mischief is a oneshot deal.”
“Unless you’ve got a pool heater, I—”
“I don’t,” he said, leaning forward and planting his hands on his knees, this time to bring his face closer to hers. “The game’s over. Let’s call this a draw. Your lips are turning blue.”
She pressed her collarbone closer to the wall and rolled her eyes. “That’s not all that’s turning blue,” she said, before scrinching up her mouth in an exaggerated frown.
He looked away, not daring to allow his stare to stray to those buttocks he’d been admiring a few minutes ago.
“To answer your original question, I’m back in town early because I’m having a faculty get-together tonight. If you’re planning to stay down here much longer I would appreciate it if you didn’t walk by my windows naked on your way upstairs.”
She batted her lashes at him. “Why is that?”
“Because…Dean Callahan has a heart condition.” He turned to go, hoping to make a swift and decisive exit before he made a complete fool of himself. Not too fast, not too slow. A normal pace, as if he were leaving his lecture hall. Then he heard the rush of disturbed water and pictured her climbing out of the pool. The five remaining steps up to the gate turned into the longest walk of his life.
“Mr. Hanlon. Wait up.”
“We can finish this conversation later.” As his hand closed over the gate handle, he heard her bare feet slapping against cement. “Don’t run!” Or I might have to look at you completely naked. No pool wall, no distortion from the water. Just perfectly and lusciously naked. Naked enough to blow my plan to treat you like the rebellious seventeen-year-old student you insist on playing.
A sigh of relief rushed from him a split second after she came into view. She’d managed to wrap the towel around her and was tucking a corner between her breasts.
“Yes, Miss Barnett?” he asked, watching her swipe water from her chin with the backs of her fingers.
“How’s your heart, Mr. Hanlon?”
Her clever response reminded him of the way she’d always loved getting in the last word. Brava. Slipping his hands in his trouser pockets, he nodded with a deceptively polite smile.
“Same condition it was in when we last spoke. Colder than ever, Miss Barnett.”
Now was the moment for making his getaway, but her plucky attitude compelled him to wait for the inevitable comeback.
“I’ve…ch-changed,” she said as an impish grin teased at her lips.
Or was that a muscle twitch brought on by the cold?
He had all he could do not to reach out and give her arms a brisk rub. Knowing that wasn’t the whole truth, he allowed his gaze to slide slowly down her body to the fine gold chain encircling her ankle. For some off-thewall reason he couldn’t fathom, the simple piece of jewelry inspired him to wonder how she would respond if he pulled her hard against him and kissed her until her lips were pink and swollen. If he gave himself half a chance he’d be putting the teacher/student taboo in the same place she obviously had. Ten years in the past. But he didn’t believe in taking chances, even half of one.
“Here,” he said, removing his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. “If you insist on prolonging this conversation,” he said sternly, “I don’t want you keeling over from hypothermia.”
As he turned up the collar, she hunched her shoulders and pressed her cheek to it. His thumb brushed her mouth at the same time she exhaled a soft “ahh.” The sound, coupled with the feel of her cool lips and puff of warm air, effectively bolted him to the flagstones beneath his feet.
Her eyelids drifted shut.
His lips parted.
“That feels so good,” she said, luxuriating in the body heat clinging to the lining.
His body heat. His jacket. Her body. She was pushing buttons and jiggling toggle switches he didn’t know he possessed until that second.
She flexed her knees and the subtle move made him think about her hips. He pictured the sleek curves, along with the rest of her body, brushing against the coat lining. The blatantly sensuous movement had him aching to pull her close and move with her. But he wasn’t going to. No matter that he had his hands on a nearly naked woman with an arousingly sensual nature, he had distance to keep along with his sanity. He looked down at her rosy cheeks, her moist lips and the way her lashes clumped together to make little points. As the wind rustled the branches of a nearby holly tree, he reminded himself to breathe while he figured out what not to do next.
She wriggled closer. Or was he pulling her closer? Her eyes opened, locking with his gaze instantly. Unlike his heartbeat, her lashes had stopped fluttering.
“Mr. Hanlon,” she whispered.
“Yes, Miss Barnett?”
“I—I’m not your student anymore and I—”
“I’m beginning to realize that,” he said, taking in the treasures of her face.
She moistened her lips with a quick lick, leaving them wet, ready and quivering. He slid his thumbs down the lapels and took a step closer.
“Your point being…?” he asked, his voice a husky drawl he hardly recognized as his own.
“I’ll be right across the driveway from you. And you’ll be…right across the driveway from me…”
He raised his eyebrows, urging her to continue with the simple but promising scenario.
“I’ll be here through the holidays and the class reunion. And I was wondering if we—”
He let go of the lapels and stepped back. She was in town for her class reunion? What the hell was he doing! Counting and recounting the five freckles across her nose? Memorizing the little hum her body made when she sighed? Wondering who put that ankle bracelet above those pretty pink enameled toenails of hers? “The reunion. Of course. I see. And you’ll be getting together with some of your old classmates. What is it that you want from me? Permission to throw a party? Maybe look the other way if you want another dip in the pool with your friends?”
She shook her head. “I want you to stop calling me Miss Barnett.”
“You’re married?” he asked, feeling strangely disappointed and relieved in the same moment.
“No,” she said. “I just don’t see the need, after all this time, for us to be so formal.” She glanced down at her scanty attire. “Especially now.”
He didn’t even try to stop his smile. “You want me to call you Rebecca? Is that it?”
She thought for a moment. “No. Call me Reb.”
“Reb? Why that old nickname? Why not Becky?”
Her gaze wandered over his face. “I just want to hear you call me Reb.”
He nodded. “Short for rebel, wasn’t it?”
Her shivers had stopped and her lips were curving into a quirky, lopsided smile that made his heart thump. “I think there’ll always be a part of me that is,” she said, hitching up her towel. “But just a little part…Raleigh.”
“Raleigh?” He nodded as he spotted her gate key sitting on top of a security lamp. Handing it to her, he began working his own key out of the gate lock. “I’d prefer that over my old nickname.”
“Old nickname?” she asked.
“You know, Reb, the one you stuck me with.”
Her brows shot up in feigned innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do. Show-No-Mercy Hanlon. You painted it on the wall in the teachers’ lounge. In big green letters, as I recall.”
“It wasn’t in green, it was in red.” A second later she was slapping a hand over her mouth and squeezing her eyes shut.
When more of his own memories about that incident began rushing in, he headed out of the gate and across the crushed stone drive.
“Mr. Han—I mean, Raleigh. Ouch! Wait!” she called as she hurried after him.
Turning to face her, he cleared his throat at the improbable sight before him. She was holding the jacket closed with one hand and gesturing with the other as she made her way across the stones. Her torturous progress resembled a sexy new dance step. The faster she moved the higher the hem of the jacket rose, exposing a widening line of terry cloth.
“I’m listening.” And looking. Lord, how I’m looking.
Stopping abruptly, she attempted a wobbly balance as she jammed her free hand to her hip. Any hair that wasn’t clinging to her head was framing her wincing expression in peaked, curvy locks.
“What made you think it was me who painted thatthat name on the wall?” she asked, her tone both disbelieving and demanding. “We all wore ski masks that morning.”
“You mean other than that you just confirmed it?” he asked, as he watched her towel begin sliding from beneath his jacket.
“Yes, of course, other than that,” she said, gesturing emphatically, then frantically grabbing for the red terry cloth.
Too late, Raleigh thought, as the towel slid to her ankles over the most beautiful legs and backside he’d ever seen. “You mooned me then, too.”
Two (#ulink_6c009d7f-958b-5ce4-bf5e-dc98322200b1)
Twenty minutes later Rebecca Barnett pushed open the door to the Chocolate Chip Café. Her gaze swept the interior of Follett River’s favorite college coffee house, before zeroing in on the busy blonde behind the counter. Just the person she came to see, Reb thought as she made her way through the sea of tables to the counter. Moving one of the tall chairs aside, she pressed her hands on the faux marble surface and leaned toward her friend on the other side.
“Raleigh Hanlon’s back in town.”
Megan Sloan scooped a dollop of frosting from the bowl next to the three-layer cake on the counter. As the pretty young widow carefully spread the liqueur-scented mixture over the top, she raised her brows.
“Surprised you, did he?”
“You could say that,” Rebecca said, sliding onto a cane-back chair as she shoved both sets of fingers through her damp hair.
“Reb, I tried calling you earlier to tell you, but I guess you haven’t hooked up your answering machine yet. Aren’t you concerned you’ll miss your business calls?” Megan asked as she swirled the spatula through the frosting.
“New Horizon Tours’ Miami office is more than capable of taking care of itself. That’s why I’m thinking about opening a branch up here.”
Megan Sloan checked the depth of frosting on the sides of the cake before finally looking up at her friend. Her green eyes widened. “Reb! Your hair!” she said, dropping the spatula into the bowl, then reaching for her friend’s hands. “What have you been up to?”
“Do you want the whole story or just the good parts?”
“The whole story, of course,” she said glancing at her watch. “And I bet it’s a Barnett classic, but unfortunately I barely have time for the good parts. Piece Of Cake got a last-minute catering job that I couldn’t pass up. So…?”
Nodding, Rebecca looked around to make certain no one was within earshot. No use blowing her new-andimproved image in front of a roomful of strangers, too. “I went skinny-dipping in Raleigh Hanlon’s pool…and he caught me.”
Megan choked back a scream. “Oh, Reb,” she said, pulling napkins from a dispenser then shoving them against her mouth. When her fit of laughter slowed, she dabbed at her eyes and shook her head. “I’m so glad you came back to Follett River. Things have been darn dull since you left.”
“Dull?” she asked, coming off the chair. “How could they possibly be dull with Raleigh Hanlon around?”
“Come on, it’s been ten years since you two bad those go-arounds. He’s not so bad. Maybe a tad grumpy at times for someone in his thirties, but honestly—”
“I’m not talking about his grumpy side. I’m talking about his, well…” Her words trailed off as she pictured the way he looked at her as he wrapped her in his jacket. When he pulled the wool tweed collar against her cheek the sensation was surprisingly pleasant. A slow smile lifted one side of her mouth. And for a moment, there, so were you, Raleigh Hanlon.
“Yes? His…?” Megan urged as she began sprinkling chopped hazelnuts over the cake.
“Never mind,” she said, easing her rear onto the seat again. The very rear she’d exposed to him on at least two different occasions. She took a deep breath then slowly exhaled at that last thought. “What’s he been doing for the past ten years?”
