she released her fingers from his and dropped her hand to her side. But Dawson still seemed frozen in place. He studied her, maybe searching for the girl she’d once been, a scared lost teenager not knowing exactly who she was or where she belonged.
Before she could square her shoulders and tell him she was somebody very different now, he took her back fifteen years by gently grazing his thumb over her cheek. “When we were in high school—” He suddenly stopped, dropping his hand to his side.
“What?” she urged him, believing it was somehow important that he went on.
“I was going to ask you to the prom.”
Knowing the value of silence, she waited.
“But too much was going on at home. Then someone else asked you instead.”
Oh, yes. Carson Simmons had asked her to the prom and she’d gone with him because he’d been a football player, one of the in-crowd, someone who lots of girls wanted to go out with. But she’d found out that night why he didn’t seem to date anyone more than twice. She’d found out the hard way that some boys wanted to do more than talk and couldn’t—wouldn’t—take no for an answer.
“After I brought you home that night,” Dawson added, “I was going to call you.”
This time she couldn’t keep quiet. “But you didn’t.”
“All hell broke loose at home and things got … complicated.” Their gazes locked until he said, “A little bit like now.”
As if the moment had been much too intense for both of them, he slipped his checkbook back into his jacket pocket then checked his watch. “I’d better go.”
“I spend some of my time at the elementary school working with students who need help with communication and behavioral issues. Do you want me to go with you? I can show you around before your meeting with the principal.”
As soon as she offered, she wasn’t sure she should have … because Dawson was looking at her the same way he had the night of their prom.
“I’d like that,” he responded huskily.
At that moment, Mikala knew she had to bury whatever feelings she’d once had for Dawson so she could help his son.
That was the professional road to take … the one she must take.
Chapter Two
As Dawson and Mikala signed in at the office of Miners Bluff’s elementary school, he dropped the keys to his SUV in his pocket and glanced at her. She’d changed a lot since high school. He’d realized that the night of the reunion. She had a confidence about her now that went with her professional demeanor. She’d also gotten curvier and had a quietly sexy way about her that stirred up buried physical needs. Was that only happening because it had been a long time since he’d wanted to have sex with a woman?
A voice in his head was yelling, Not Mikala. She can’t be an experiment to satisfy your libido. Mikala had always been the kind of girl you respected … the kind of girl you waited for.
Where had that thought come from?
She finished with the pen and handed it to him so he could sign the log. Reaching for it, his fingers grazed hers. After he felt another jolt of attraction, he noticed such startled awareness in her eyes that he found it captivating. But he couldn’t be captivated by Mikala. She was going to be working with his son. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—mess with that.
But when he studied her pretty face and her expressive dark brown eyes, he knew he faced a battle against attraction and chemistry and hormones he hadn’t even known could roar through him anymore.
The last few years of his marriage to Kelly had become filled with tension. That tension translated into him burying himself in work … her already sleeping when he came home. Not much sex. Little intimacy. It had started with an argument they’d had when Luke was two. She’d revealed she’d stopped her birth control pills on purpose when they were dating because she’d wanted to get married! He’d been unwilling to let his own marriage disintegrate the way his parents’ had and he’d held on to hope that he and Kelly could fix whatever was wrong. He’d been determined to make sure Luke’s life wouldn’t be marred by divorce the way his had.
But he’d never quite gotten over the pain of her lie.
Mikala didn’t say much as she pointed out the fifth-grade classrooms and the arts center. A few kids waved at her as the bell rang and students headed for their buses. She stopped to introduce him to one of the teachers and then they made their way to a room at the end of the hall.
When they stepped inside, Dawson realized this was Mikala’s domain. There was a keyboard, a box of tambourines, several large bright balls and several recorders on the top of a bookshelf. A chord chart hung on one wall and photographs of dancers on another.
“You’re part-time but you have your own office?”
“Basically I’m an independent contractor. This room is in the older part of the building with thick walls, so it’s perfect for music therapy. I coordinate my sessions with the guidance counselor and I also sub when the music teacher’s sick.”
“You’re one busy lady—private clients, this and helping your aunt with the B and B.”
“I like to keep busy. That keeps me out of trouble.”
He had a feeling Mikala didn’t get into trouble very often. He found himself way too curious about how she lived her life. “Have you ever been in trouble?”
“You mean besides the night of the prom?”
“Yes.”
She looked over to her desk as if the subject made her uncomfortable, as if in some way his question had something to do with them. “I don’t look for trouble, Dawson. I keep my life uncomplicated.”
Had it always been that way? Because of what had happened on prom night? In high school they’d seemed to have an undeniable bond. But they’d both backed away from it … until the night he’d rescued her. Had she had lovers the past fifteen years? Many? All of that was too personal to ask. After all, they really didn’t know each other now.
Then why did it feel as if they did?
Dropping the subject because he saw she wanted to, he remarked, “Luke’s always gravitated toward music, though I don’t know why.”
“Music is a great way for kids to express themselves. It stimulates and relaxes—” She stopped and smiled. “Don’t get me started. I like what I do.”
“So why music therapy instead of teaching?”
Quiet for a few moments, Mikala seemed to hesitate. Dawson guessed she didn’t reveal her innermost thoughts and motives to many people. She hadn’t changed completely from the quiet, deep-thinking girl she’d been.
Finally she explained, “I’d planned to teach. But then one of my professors in college—she was a violinist—had a friend who was in an accident and fell into a coma. Dorothy visited every
