grains of rice from a hole in the bottom of the box, but it was hard for her to collect her thoughts under all this scrutiny. Especially since she was still having trouble reconciling herself to the fact that the single greatest experience of her young life was tied to a bet, making her—in her mind, at least—the butt of a cruel joke.
The fact that Jorge had sent a note like that with flowers just served to confuse and complicate everything that much more.
“And then?” Sally urged when Jane didn’t elaborate. “This is like pulling teeth,” she complained. “What did you do to get him to send you flowers?”
“I didn’t do anything,” Jane protested. Except run away.
Maybe that was it, she thought. Maybe he was feeling guilty because she’d bolted and he suspected that she knew about the bet.
Joyce frowned. This obviously wasn’t making any sense to her, or the others. “So that was it? He asked you if you wanted your drink freshened and then he just disappeared?”
“Well, no.” Jane thought about the way he’d looked at her and a smile curved her mouth involuntarily. “We talked a little. And then it was midnight and—”
The mere memory made her body tingle.
Joyce’s eyes widened. “He kissed you?”
Jane nodded her head. For a split second, a wave of heat washed over her as, despite her best efforts to block it, the memory replayed itself in her head.
“Yes.”
“And? What was it like?” Sally demanded.
Jane had never mastered the art of nonchalance. Besides, there had been nothing nonchalant about the way Jorge kissed. He had literally made the earth move beneath her feet. No matter what his motives were, she had to give him his due in that department.
“Pretty terrific.”
“And you’re seeing him again,” Sally assumed eagerly, skimming her fingertip down along a plump, pink rose petal.
Despite everything, a sliver of sadness skewered through Jane as she answered. “No.”
The other women looked at each other.
“But he sent flowers,” Harriet insisted. “How can you not see someone who sent you flowers?”
Because he doesn’t want to see me. He just doesn’t want to feel bad.
Jane kept the words to herself, searching for some kind of plausible answer that would make the others back off and leave her alone. This was hard enough to deal with without pretending that she was starryeyed and walking on air.
Just then, April, the administrative assistant, came into the lounge. Excitement pulsated from every pore as she announced, “Jane, there’s someone here to see you.”
Thank God, Jane thought. She didn’t care who it was as long as it gave her an excuse to get away from this impromptu Spanish Inquisition before the thumbscrews came out.
Jane glanced at her watch, trying to remember her schedule for the day. It was a little early for her first student, Melinda Perez, to be coming in. She wasn’t due for at least another hour. But that was all right.
“Bring Mrs. Perez and her daughter to the classroom,” she told April.
April shook her head, her straight dark hair bobbing from side to side like black windshield wipers. “It’s not Mrs. Perez.”
That caught her off guard. Mothers usually brought their children, not fathers. Maybe Mrs. Perez wasn’t feeling well.
“Okay, show Mr. Perez and his daughter to the classroom. Better yet,” she decided, moving toward the doorway, “I’ll do it.”
April stayed where she was, a ninety-eight-pound roadblock. She looked unsettled, Jane thought, and rather dazed, wearing what could only be termed a silly grin on her face.
“April, is something the matter?” Jane asked.
“It’s not Mr. Perez either,” the young girl said breathlessly.
Confused, Jane walked out into the hallway and saw why April was acting so flustered.
Jorge Mendoza stood just inside the doorway, with her winter coat draped over one arm and what looked like a picnic basket suspended from the other.
The grin on his lips was guaranteed to raise body temperatures by at least five degrees as far away as the next county.
“Hi, Jane. You forgot something at the restaurant the other night,” he told her, his voice low and melodic as he held her coat slightly aloft.
By now, all of Jane’s coworkers had poured out into the hallway. She could feel them standing behind her, a hyperventilating Greek chorus.
Just what she needed, an audience.
How much worse was this going to get? And why, knowing what she did, did her kneecaps feel as if they were dissolving right out from under her?
“Thank you,” she murmured, accepting the coat he held out to her.
God, but he was even better looking in the light of day than he had been at the restaurant. But what was he doing here?
Maybe he’d made another bet, she said to herself.
Jorge drew a little closer to her, aware that they were both under intense scrutiny. “Could I see you in private?”
Her uneasiness heightened. What was he up to? “I’ve got students coming in.”
“Not for another hour,” Jorge countered. He saw the surprise in her eyes and smiled. Nodding toward April, he said, “I checked.”
“I can cover for you,” Harriet volunteered. “I don’t have anyone coming in until this afternoon.”
“I can cover for you, too,” Sally chimed in eagerly, her eyes never leaving Jorge.
His smile widening, Jorge gave a slight bow of his head. “Thank you, ladies. I promise I won’t keep her too long.”
Jane wanted to say something about the bet. Right here, right now, she wanted to give this too-handsome-for-his-own-good-or-anyone-else’s a dressing down. Wanted to tell him that if he’d discovered a conscience and was here to make amends, she didn’t want any part of that. She just wanted to be left alone.
She wanted to say all that. But the desire to get all of that off her chest was outweighed by the fact that she’d always hated making a scene. Jane absolutely despised displays of temper, maybe because she’d been the target of her mother’s so often when she was growing up.
Whatever the reason, she swallowed her retort and kept it to herself, refusing to vent in front of her coworkers.
“All right, we can go to my classroom,” she told him, resigned.
He laughed softly under his
