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At The Millionaire's Request
Teresa Southwick
Mills & Boon Silhouette
When Sean Spencer lost the ability to speak as the result of a terrible accident, his father vowed to do anything to bring him back. Anything. Top of the list was to bring the best speech therapist money could buy to live in his sprawling mansion.Gavin thought that would be the easy part. But he hadn't met M.J. Taylor.She was a woman who had also dealt with tragedy–only her solution was to stop doing what she was born to do: work with young kids. And she thought nothing could change her mind–until Gavin Spencer forced his way into her life.
“You have a reputation as a gifted children’s speech pathologist. But you turned your back on a career….”
“You don’t have any idea!”
“I don’t have to.” Gavin held up a hand. “I’m a father. I’d slay dragons and storm fortresses if it would make my son the way he was. I can’t help him, but you can.”
“Not anymore.”
“I don’t buy that. You got positive results in the past. Why not now?”
“I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“No. That’s true. But the fact is I’m not giving up until I get one.”
M.J. recognized the determination on his dark features. “An explanation? It’s called survival, Mr. Spencer. I simply can’t get wrapped up in a child. I can’t do it anymore.”
“Why?”
“I don’t have the heart. My son took it with him when he died.”
At The Millionaire’s Request
Teresa Southwick
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
TERESA SOUTHWICK
lives with her husband in Las Vegas, the city that reinvents itself every day. An avid fan of romance novels, she is delighted to be living out her dream of writing for Silhouette Books.
To speech-language pathologist Christine Rosenthal who patiently and in great detail answered all my questions about what she does.
To my friend and middle school teacher, Connie Howard, who reminded me that her niece Christine is an SLP.
To my friend and kindergarten teacher, Marilyn Tobin, who was at dinner with Connie and me when grateful parents stopped to thank her for her dedication to their son.
The encounter inspired this book. The three of you are an inspiration to me and all your students in spite of the way it sometimes feels.
Teachers rock!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter One
G avin Spencer would make a deal with the devil if it would help his son.
And this just might be hell, he thought, staring at the high school kid with his red-tipped, spiked Mohawk and so many piercings it looked like he’d fallen face-first into a tackle box.
“In the office they said I could find M. J. Taylor here,” he said to the teen sprawled in a student desk.
“Who?”
“Your teacher.”
“You mean, the sub?”
“If M. J. Taylor is your substitute teacher, then yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, that’s who I mean,” Gavin answered, barely holding on to his temper.
He didn’t have time for this. Every minute he wasted was a minute of normal that his son Sean wouldn’t have.
“Why?”
“Why what?” Gavin asked.
“Why do you want her?”
In two seconds he’d grab this skinny, disrespectful spiky-haired worm and shake him till his piercings fell out. Huffing out a long breath, Gavin counted to ten. Manhandling a kid was most likely not the way to get what he wanted.
“It’s none of your concern why I want her. I just do. Where is she?”
Spike shrugged. “Took Evil E to the office.”
Evil E? Gavin really was in hell and it was getting more difficult by the second to believe M. J. Taylor was the angel he’d been promised by his son’s doctor.
At that moment the door opened and a woman walked in accompanied by a male student. To Gavin’s immense relief her blond hair was perfectly normal, worn straight to just past her shoulders. Her only piercings were silver hoops in her ears where piercings were supposed to be. She looked very young, but her navy slacks, long-sleeved white cotton blouse and sensible low-heeled shoes told him she wasn’t a teenager. He couldn’t say the same for the white-faced ghoul dressed in black beside her.
Gavin stared at the newcomer. “This must be the infamous Evil E.”
The kid glowered more, if possible. “Famous? Is that good?”
“Infamous,” she corrected, frowning at Gavin. “His name is Eveleth, you fill in the blanks.” Then she looked at the kid. “Your homework is to look that word up in the dictionary.”
“But I’m suspended.” The tone was just this side of insolence.
“That doesn’t mean you don’t have homework. It simply means you have several days of time out to think about your behavior and figure out how to make it acceptable in the classroom before coming back to school.”
“I didn’t start it. He did.” Lifting a finger, he pointed at Spike.
“You were supposed to be gone, Sullivan,” she said to hardware face.
“I was waiting for him to come back for his stuff.” The languid teen instantly jumped up and went for the ghoul, shoving the sub out of the way.
Recovering quickly, she got between them and tried to break it up. “Knock it off, you two,” she grunted, pushing against ghoul’s chest.
For all the attention they paid her, she might have been an ant between two chihuahuas. But the stubborn look on her face said she wasn’t giving up. And that’s when she got popped by a stray fist.
Gavin grabbed ghoul by the neck of his black T-shirt and easily yanked him back. The physical intervention startled him long enough for Gavin to step between the two and sweep her out of the way with his arm.
“Back off before you get hurt,” he ordered.
“They’re my responsibility.”
“The responsible thing to do would be to get help while I keep them from killing each other.”
She nodded then picked up the phone on the wall and spoke to someone on the other end. Two minutes later the door opened and a beefy man who looked like campus security burst into the room and the teens froze. He took one look at the situation and shook his head.
“Office,” he barked at the two combatants. “Now.”
The two creeps glared at each other, breathing hard. Then Spike shot Gavin a drop-dead-bastard look before he sauntered out the door, every step broadcasting his message: screw you and every other adult on the planet. The ghoul followed in his cocky wake.
“You okay?” the guard asked the teacher.
“Fine,” she said, letting out a breath.
Then the door closed and they were alone.
She met Gavin’s gaze and her hand shook as she tucked a strand of silky blond hair behind her ear. “Thanks for your help.”
“I’m glad I was here.”
He studied her from head to toe, which didn’t take long as she barely reached his shoulder. Her hair was fine and straight, a center part sending the silken strands to frame her small face. Her too long bangs caught in the thick, dark lashes framing her big blue eyes—eyes that tilted up, catlike at the corners, which was the only striking thing about her. She was slender, delicate and almost fragile-looking.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but when a woman was a man’s first, best hope, he wanted someone more…more something. Wings, a halo and the ability to walk on water would be a definite plus. He’d figured taller, too. Then he noticed the red mark just forming below her eye and anger surged through him all over again.
He cupped her cheek in his palm and gently probed the area beginning to swell. “This needs ice. Are you really all right?”
Her beautiful eyes widened as she quickly backed away. “I’m fine,” she said. “And grateful that you were here.” Then she stared at him. “Why are you here?”
“I’m looking for M. J. Taylor.”
“You found her. And you are?”
“Gavin Spencer.”
She looked puzzled. “The name doesn’t ring a bell. Do you have a student in one of my classes?”
He wanted to ask if he looked old enough to have a child in high school but decided he didn’t want her to confirm it. What he’d been through with Sean had most certainly aged him. Instead he let his gaze wander over water stains in the acoustical ceiling and numerous desktop carvings in the thirty or so desks lined up in rows. This classroom was pretty grim.
“The real question is, why are you here? From what I just saw, tax money would be better spent on pepper spray and self-defense lessons than books and computers.”
She laughed and it was a lovely sound. The shadows disappeared from the depths of her blue eyes.
“It’s really not that bad. I like working with teenagers. They’re funny and spontaneous. Today was just one of those days. An argument over a girl. Something happened at lunch.” One slender shoulder rose in a shrug. “Teenage passion mixed with an abundance of hormones is not a pretty sight. Most of the time those two are actually quite pleasant and bright,” she said, glancing at the door where the teenagers had disappeared.
“You sub for them a lot?”
“I’m a permanent substitute. I know. It’s an oxymoron. I’m taking over the class for a teacher who recently had a baby.”
Suddenly the sparkle was gone and the shadows returned, and he wondered why.
“What frightens me the most is that those two will be making the decisions about our welfare when we’re in our declining years,” he said.
“One hopes not those two in particular,” she said, the corners of her lips curving up.
“You should do that more often.”
“What?”
