Charade: Impetuous / Outrageous. Lori Foster

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stomach clenched and her nerve endings rioted. She hoped her thoughts of him would fade with time; she hoped she could eventually forget him completely.

      It wouldn’t happen today. Though she hated to admit it, even to herself, he rattled her as few people could. But she refused to be a coward about the situation. The best way to deal with a problem was to face it head-on, she reminded herself. Summoning a bland smile, she nodded. “That would be fine, Tyler. Thank you.”

      * * *

      She was standing at her desk, stacking papers, when Tyler walked in. Her door was open, so he took a moment to simply look at her. Dressed in another of her prim, spinsterish outfits, her hair pulled back in a braid, she looked like the epitome of the perfect schoolmarm. And she was humming softly.

      He felt something shift inside him. Never in his own school days could he remember a teacher like her, someone who actually wanted to help. He’d always thought of Carlie as simply Brenda’s friend, a little odd, a lot frumpy, but nice enough.

      Now he had to look at her with new respect.

      Raising a hand, he gave two sharp knocks on the open door. She jerked, looking up with wide eyes and peering at him through the lenses of her glasses.

      “They told me at the office where I could find you.” He stepped in, looking around the room with interest. “Very nice.”

      She smiled with an obvious touch of pride. “Thank you. I try to make the classroom nice. It should be a comfortable place to be, an easy place to be. Do you know what I mean?”

      Strangely enough, he did. The room was decorated in bright colors with plenty of the children’s artwork hanging on the walls. It was a thought-provoking room. He walked toward a workstation that was filled with hands-on activities. There were dominoes, rubber stamps and numerous math games. The room gave an overall appearance of bustling activity. He smiled at her, seeing that she was watching him cautiously. “You like to teach.”

      She straightened. “Yes. And I’m good at it. Children respond well to me.”

      She could be so damned bristly, with no real provocation. “I’m sure you are. You’re authoritative, but gently so. Children wouldn’t be afraid of you.”

      Lowering her eyebrows, she gave him a ferocious look, as if she didn’t trust the sincerity of his words. He smiled back, and waited.

      Finally, she nodded. “No child should ever be afraid. Certainly not of their teacher. I do my best to make sure they’re at ease, to let them know they can talk to me if they need to.”

      Tyler turned away. He didn’t want her to see how she affected him. He could still remember being a kid himself, feeling defensive and hurt because his dad wasn’t around, and his mother couldn’t be bothered. His teachers hadn’t cared about a kid with problems. Their idea of understanding was to send him to the office whenever he upset their lessons.

      He certainly hadn’t had a teacher like Carlie.

      “What is it, Tyler? What’s wrong?”

      Her perception was uncanny. He realized he was holding a math paper one student had left on a desk, and he slowly laid it down and turned to her. “I have the greatest respect for teachers. For anyone having a gift with children. There are too many people out there who don’t care about kids, even their own.”

      He knew he shouldn’t have said so much the minute the words were out of his mouth. Carlie was scrutinizing him carefully. He shook his head and wandered around the room, surveying all the desks, laughing when he saw one that was overflowing with old papers. He straightened a chair, centered a book, replaced a pencil that had fallen on the floor.

      Carlie began helping him tidy up. “The children may like me, but they’re always in a hurry to leave when the bell rings.” She indicated the disheveled desks. “They tend to be a little sloppy at times.”

      Tyler refocused on her. “Do you have children of your own?” He discovered he was suddenly very interested in her.

      “No.”

      Just that one curt word. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re not married?”

      “Mr. Ramsey...”

      He smiled. “Do you want children of your own someday?”

      Lowering her gaze, she ignored his question and pulled her purse from beneath her desk. “We’d better be going. I have tests to grade tonight and lessons to prepare for the morning.”

      He accepted her change of subject without comment, and motioned for her to lead the way. They’d be spending a lot of time together, several nights a week. He’d get to know her better, and she would eventually warm up to him.

      That thought brought with it images of another woman, a woman who had warmed up to him, only to leave him. He still felt irritated when he thought of how he’d woken up alone, a stupid smile on his face. But even then, he hadn’t considered that was the end of it. He’d assumed he’d find out who she was from Brenda, then have the pleasure of getting to know his harem girl better.

      But Brenda said the woman didn’t want to be identified, and short of telling her why he wanted to know, he couldn’t very well demand the mystery woman’s name. But he hated the thought he might never see her again, and he hated even more that the night had evidently meant so little to her. It had been special to him, a night to cherish.

      And the woman didn’t want anything to do with him.

      Carlie was halfway to the door when Tyler caught up with her, automatically taking her arm. “Let’s take my car, and I’ll bring you back here when we’re finished.”

      “I’d prefer to drive.”

      Bristly. She was stiff, her arm rigid in his grasp. He had the distinct notion she resented his touch, though he hadn’t a clue why. He was getting a little disgruntled with female rejection, and the question came out a little sharper than he’d intended. “Why?”

      She didn’t look at him, but he saw her pull her bottom lip between her teeth. She had a nice profile, he realized, and the lip she was punishing was soft and full. Then she nodded. “Very well. You may drive.”

      TYLER HAD VERY large hands.

      Carlie stared, without meaning to, as he cut into a piece of peach pie, then put the bite in his mouth and chewed. His jaw was strong, lean and hard, with only a slight shadow of dark beard stubble. His nose, straight and high-bridged, would appear aristocratic but for the lump where he had broken it in a fight when he was younger. Bren had told her the story, about how Jason had joined in and the two brothers had ended up defeating four other kids.

      His eyebrows were straight and dark. His lashes thick and long. His cheekbones high and sculpted. There was a healthy color to his skin, not a dark-baked tan, but definitely the added color of outdoor activities.

      Carlie sipped her coffee, her gaze going again to his hands. She remembered those hands so well, the way they had touched her, their strength, their gentleness. The memory gave her an odd tingle.

      “Aren’t

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