papers and pressed her lips together in a firm line, gazed at him solemnly and sternly, the effect of the sternness somewhat tempered by the fact she picked that moment to tuck a wayward strand of that honey-colored hair behind her ear.
Ben had the unexpected and electrifying thought that he would like to kiss her. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe as a shortcut to the woman underneath that uptight outfit and the stern expression.
She was not the kind of woman he usually went for. And he was pretty sure she was not the kind of woman who usually went for him.
She was the kind of woman where there wouldn’t be any kind of shortcuts at all. If a guy were to date her, it wasn’t going to end in her backyard hot tub after midnight.
Not that Miss Maple would have a hot tub! He regarded her thoughtfully, trying to guess at her after-school activities. Knitting, possibly. Bird-watching, probably. Reading, definitely.
No, she was not his type at all.
Which probably explained why he felt intrigued by her. He wasn’t quite sure when he’d become so sick to death of the kind of women who were his type, though that covered a lot of ground from supersophisticated debutantes, to rowdy party-hearty girls, to experienced divorcees, to free-spirited and very independent career women. None of them intrigued him anymore, and hadn’t for a long time. For a while nobody had noticed, but lately his buddies were looking at Ben’s ability to go home alone as if he had contracted a strange disease that needed to be cured before it became contagious.
The demure little schoolteacher made Ben Anderson feel challenged, the first interest he had felt in what the guys cheerfully called “the hunt” for a long, long time. Or maybe, he told himself wryly, he was looking for a little diversion from his sucks-to-be-you life.
Whatever it was, he now had a secret agenda that was making it very hard to focus on what she was saying about Kyle.
A contract for Kyle to sign. With goals and challenges and rewards.
“Mr. Anderson,” she said, ignoring his invitation to call him Ben. “Your nephew has been held back once and has dismal test scores. He won’t do his homework, and he doesn’t participate in class discussions. But I think he reads at a college level and with complete comprehension.
“If I implement this plan for him,” Miss Maple continued sternly, “it is going to take a tremendous amount of work and commitment on my part. I need to know you will be backing me at home, and that you are willing to put in the same kind of time and commitment.”
Ben had been around long enough to know he should be very wary of a woman who tossed around the word commitment so easily.
He threw caution to the wind. “Why don’t we discuss your plan in a little more detail over dinner?” he asked.
Miss Maple looked completely uncharmed. In fact, she looked downright annoyed.
He felt a little annoyed himself. Women didn’t generally look annoyed when he asked them out for dinner. Delighted. Intrigued. He thought he should be insulted that the fifth-grade teacher didn’t look the least delighted about his invitation or the least intrigued by him.
She was probably trying to be professional, trying to backpedal since he had seen her blush when he’d flexed his muscle. She wasn’t as immune as she wanted him to think.
“I’m afraid I don’t go for dinner with parents,” Miss Maple said snippily.
Despite the fact he was amazed by her rejection, Ben assumed an expression that he hoped was a fair approximation of complete innocence. “Miss Maple,” he chided her, “I am not Kyle’s parent. I’m his uncle.”
There was the little blush again, but Ben was almost positive it was caused by irritation, not the flexing of his forearm.
“I don’t date the family members of my students,” she said tightly, spelling it out carefully.
“Date?” Ben raised a surprised eyebrow. “You misunderstood me. I wasn’t asking you on a date.”
Now she had the audacity to look faintly hurt!
The problem with a woman like Miss Maple, Ben thought, was that she would be way more complicated than the women he normally took out. Challenge or not, he knew he should cut his losses and run for the door.
Naturally, he did nothing of the sort.
“I just thought we could get together and go over your plan in more detail.” Ben looked at his watch. “Kyle hasn’t eaten yet, and I’m trying to get him into regular meals.”
That was actually true. His nephew was alarmingly small and skinny for his age, a testament to the Bohemian lifestyle Carly had subjected him to. At first he had resisted Ben’s efforts to get him to eat good food at regular intervals, but in the last few days Ben thought he noticed his nephew settling into routines, and maybe even liking them a bit.
He found himself sharing that with Miss Maple, who looked suitably impressed.
“He’s had it tough, hasn’t he?” she whispered.
Ben could see the softening of the stern line of her face. It made her look very cute. Time to pounce. If he asked her for dinner again right now, she’d say yes.
But he was surprised to find he couldn’t. Instead he could barely speak over the lump that had developed in his throat. He couldn’t even begin to tell her just how tough that kid had had it.
Even though he knew he was capable of being a complete snake, Ben found he could not use Kyle’s tragic life to get what he wanted.
Which was a date with Miss Maple. Just to see how it would end. But he’d leave it for now because, whatever else he might be, he had a highly developed sense of what was fair. She genuinely cared about Kyle. That was obvious. And nothing to be played with, either. His nephew had had few enough people care about him without his uncle jeopardizing that in search of something as easy to find as a date with an attractive member of the opposite sex.
Yes, he needed to think the whole thing through a little more carefully.
So, naturally, he didn’t. He found himself giving her his cell-phone number, just in case she needed to consult with him during the day. At least that was putting the ball in her court.
She took it, but reluctantly, as if she sensed what he really wanted to consult with her about was her after-school activities.
Kyle came back in the room, clutching his new book to his chest.
“How long can I keep it?” he demanded rudely.
“It’s yours,” Miss Maple said gently. “I ordered it just for you.”
Kyle glared at her. “I’ve read it before. It’s stupid. I don’t even want it.”
Ben had to bite back a desire to snap at his nephew for being so ungrateful for the kindness offered, but when he looked at Miss Maple, she was looking past the words, to the way Kyle was hugging the book. She said, not the least ruffled, “You keep it anyway. Your uncle might enjoy it.”
Ben looked at her sharply, to see if there was a barb buried in the fact
