Wilde for You

On top of that, he was married. She got a smidge of concern that she was more disappointed about that than she was over her soon-to-be-deforested jungle.

Tucker Manning was married. Unavailable. Taken.

Not that it mattered. Hell, she hadn’t seen him in years, though he did cross her mind from time to time. They’d connected in such a warm, easy way that night. She’d felt understood, honored, almost urged to say any outrageous thing she thought or felt.

He’d also starred in some sexy dreams. Maybe because she’d been surprised by how much and how fast she’d wanted him. Major lust had hit at max speed.

Of course, he was hot, with down-slanted, bedroom eyes—George Clooney/Kyle Chandler eyes. And he had this great look—earnest and smart-ass and know-it-all. The boy next door with a Harley and a Mensa membership. Trustworthy, wicked and brilliant. A killer combo.

Plus, his voice was low and confident, with a sexual undertow that sucked her in. Also his mouth was dramatic—sculpted lips, full and so there. She’d just had to have a taste…. And wow…. But Tucker had come to his senses, completely mortified and guilty as hell. She could have told him about Sylvia and the professor, but that didn’t seem right and she’d been a little shaken up by her reaction to him.

And she still thought about him with lust. Probably because he was The Forbidden. Or maybe because after that night, he disappeared. Or maybe she had disappeared. Whatever. Absence makes the heart more horny? Or curious? Or something.

Now here he was, turning up again like a sexy penny, with that same kissable mouth and all those fabulous features and that thick, dark hair—she’d forgotten about the hair—but he was taken. Locked down. Married. She hoped the woman knew what she had.

On the other hand, he’d turned into an administrator. And not a progressive, authority-sharing one, either. A rules-are-our-friends, by-the-book administrator. He’d probably expect to see her lesson plans for the upcoming week on his desk every Friday. She watched him cross the quad. What a great backside. She was window-shopping only, of course. The man was married.

He’d sounded nervous about it, though—it has its ups and downs—fiddling with his wedding ring like he wanted to yank it off. She hoped he wasn’t unhappily married.

Anyway, enough of the sexual road not taken. She had a new career to explore and no time for good kissers with up-and-down marriages. Small towns meant flat-line on the entertain-o-meter. But that was okay. Her goal was to be the best teacher she could be and really give this career a fair test. Discarding two professions—even if one was because of a physical reflex…good point, Tuck—made her feel, well, flaky.

It was time to get serious. And teaching was it. She was pretty sure. She’d loved the summer camp. Teaching the kids how to boat and ride horses, guiding them through conflicts, shoring up their self-esteem, helping them explore their ideas and interests had been extremely rewarding. She’d felt as though she made a difference in their lives. She wanted more of that. A career of it, in fact.

As the summer ended, she’d recalled that her friend Nikki Winfield’s father was a principal. Cricket had worked for Party Time Characters, the kiddie party company Nikki’s best friend Mariah had started back then, and had gotten to know Nikki through her.

Before she knew it, Cricket had an interview with Nikki’s father, Harvey—a formal, old-fashioned guy, but sweet and completely in love with his school. Her science background and enthusiasm—and the fact they had no other applicants—earned her the job. She would refresh her biology with the textbooks, get teaching tips from colleagues and figure out the chemistry somehow.

The point was that she now had her very own classroom. She had a curriculum to cover, but how she presented it was up to her. She wanted her students to love learning and to figure out how they could make a difference, too.

When she sat still for long, though, doubts assailed her. Was she up to this? Could she stick to it even when it got hard? Would she get hit with the same disappointment she’d felt about social work? Maybe she was too idealistic. She had these great dreams, but the day-to-day getting there wore her down. At least so far.

This had to be different. She felt different. She felt ready. She’d already plowed into it—coming up with her jungle theme for the three sections of biology she would teach. She looked around at what she’d set up. It looked great. Purposeful. Appealing. Exciting. Except now, thanks to Tucker Manning, Fire Code Cop, she had to machete the vines and muscle the trees around.

A surge of stubbornness rolled through her. She wasn’t giving up on her rain forest, no matter what Captain Safety said.

Nothing within six inches of the ceiling, huh? Okay, how about seven? If she used lightweight wire extended from the tree branches…She smiled. She’d need some help, though. Out the window, she spotted three kids skateboarding across the campus pathways. She’d get to know them, get their help and annoy Rule Master Manning all at the same time. Talk about multitasking.

She hurried outside to chase them down.

WHEN CRICKET AND THE three students finished the rain-forest renovation, she took them to the town’s pizza parlor for food. The garishly lit, green-dragon-themed place was loud with the sounds of arcade games, rich with the tomato-and-baked-bread smell of pizza and decently crowded for a Wednesday night.

They’d just dug into two Chicago-style pepperoni pies and Dr. Pepper in frosty mugs, when Cricket looked up and saw Tucker striding down the aisle between green plastic benches, a bottle of beer in one hand.

“Hey, Tuck,” she said, motioning him over. “Join us.”

“Cricket.” He paused at the end of the table, smiling a great, warm smile that heated her like an electric blanket. “I don’t want to intrude.” He glanced at the boys, his brows lifted in curiosity.

“Tucker Manning, meet three of Copper Corners’ finest sophomores—Jason, Jeff and John, the Triple Js, as they’re known to their friends. Guys, meet your new assistant principal.”

Tucker set his bottle on the table and solemnly shook each hand, making enough eye contact to make the guys uncomfortable.

“They helped me rearrange my rain forest. Here, sit.” She patted the space beside her for Tucker, since the three students filled the opposite bench.

Tucker took a tentative seat. She could see him measure the distance so they wouldn’t touch at shoulder or hip.

Though the boys continued eating, Tucker’s presence had definitely put a chill on the meal. The man gave off authority like body heat.

“Are your parents aware of where you boys are?” he said, making it worse. He’d used a relaxed tone, but it came out stern and he’d called them boys.

“Pretty much,” Jason said, shrugging.

“Maybe you’d better be certain.” Tucker took his phone from a back pocket and extended it.

“’Sokay,” Jason said. “We should get going, Cricket.”

Jeff wolfed the last of his slice and John grabbed a piece to go, leaving three from the second pizza on the tray. She knew full well they would have cleaned up if Tucker hadn’t sunk the mood.

“Hang on,” she said. “We can talk to Mr. Manning about starting the ecology club.”

“That’s okay,” Jason said. “Thanks, Cricket.” The other boys mumbled their thanks, then all three lumbered away.

“Way to be a buzz kill,” she joked to Tucker. Despite the distance between them, she felt his body heat and smelled his cologne, a spicy musk that teased like his smile.

Tucker must have noticed how close they were, too, because he slid off her bench and onto the opposite one.

“Was it something I said?” she asked.

“This is better,” he said firmly. “And being alone with students at night is not a good idea.”

“They slaved over my room. The least I could do was feed them.”

“You’re young and single and very pretty, Cricket.”

“Why, thank you.”

“All three of those guys were smitten.”

“Nah. It’s not me. It was the food. No teen turns down free pizza.”

“It just doesn’t look good.”

“It’s okay. It’s so noisy we couldn’t even hear ourselves flirt and forget playing footsie—the lights are too bright.”

His brows lifted in alarm, which reminded her that she’d loved startling him with extreme ideas that long-ago night.

“Kidding, Tucker. Jeez. I’m twenty-seven. That’s antique to sophomores.”

“I also advise against allowing students to call you by your first name. You need them to respect you.”

“Respect has to be earned.”

“The kids need a teacher, not a pal. If you’re too chummy, they’ll take advantage of you, blow off assignments, talk back, refuse to listen. And then you’ll end up at war.”

Cricket stared at Tucker. He sounded like some tired veteran advising a new recruit how to survive a battle. “I want to reach my students at a human level, Tucker. I’m not their prison guard.”

“Too much familiarity is a mistake. Some teachers don’t smile for the first month. Maybe that’s overboard, but they have a point. Keep your distance, set high standards and you’ll give your students what they need—subject knowledge, thinking skills and the self-discipline to get what they want in life.”

“What happened to you, Tucker?” She reached across the table to playfully shake him by the shoulders. “Did they brainwash you at administrator school? You weren’t hard-hearted in college.”

He’d been tender, not tough, that night, and passionate, not reserved, and she’d felt as if she’d belonged in his arms.

She distracted herself from that thought by grabbing Tucker’s beer for a big gulp from the bottle.

“Hey!” he said.

“Sorry. It just looked tasty.” Which was exactly what she’d said when she’d snitched some of his Corona that night.

Tucker’s face stilled. He was remembering the moment, too, she was sure.

“How about some Skee-Ball?” she said to change the subject.

“I don’t think so.”

“What’s a little Skee-Ball between consenting adults?” It was just a light flirt, but their gazes locked like heat-seeking missiles. Fire zoomed through her.

Tucker sucked in a harsh breath, twirling his wedding ring. Again.

As if catching the vibe, a Skee-Ball light began to spin and flash red and the siren blared. Emergency, emergency. Lust alert. Calling all ice water.

Cricket crossed her legs to settle herself.

When the sound ceased, Tucker spoke. “I don’t think we should consent to anything together, Cricket. There’s too much…you-know…going on here.”

“You-know?” She couldn’t help teasing. “What’s you-know?”

“You know what you-know is,” he said, low and sexy, his eyes sparkling in the light, his smile crooked, the effect as romantic and inviting in the bright pizza parlor as it would have been in a dimly lit bistro.

She sighed. “Yeah. We both know.”

“I’m married. And I’m your boss, more or less. Playing Skee-Ball or sharing a beer or just sitting here talking, however innocent, is a bad idea.”

“I hate it when you’re right.” She leaned forward, chin on her fist. “I hope your wife appreciates you, Tucker.”

“I’m sure she does,” he said, but his eyes flickered away. What was up with that?

“What’s her name anyway? And where did you meet?”

“Her name is Julie and my, um, brother introduced us.”

“Where is she tonight? How come you’re eating alone?”

“She’s out of town. Working. She’s, um, an airline pilot.”

“An airline pilot? That’s cool.”

“She likes it.”

“So, she travels a lot?”

“All the time.”

Why did he look so guilty? She couldn’t see Tucker playing around. He struck her as an honest, loyal guy. He’d been very upset about the make-out session while he was still seeing Sylvia. Now Cricket had to know more.

“So what is Julie like?”

“She’s smart…and pretty, I guess.”

“You guess? Can I see her picture?”

“I don’t have one on me.”

No photo in the wallet? That wasn’t a good sign. She’d figured Tucker would be a sentimental guy, judging from the affectionate way he’d talked about his friends that night. “So, describe her to me.”

“Let’s see…medium build, dark hair to her shoulders. A little shorter than me.” He sounded like he had to wrack his brain to remember.

“That’s it? What about her eyes? What color are they?”

“Her eyes?” He looked completely panicked. “They’re green…and brown, too. Hazel, I guess.”

“Not very observant, Tucker.”

“I know the big things.”

“Little things add up to big things. Like what’s her favorite food? Favorite flavor of ice cream? Best band? What’s her pet peeve?”

“The important thing is that we make each other happy.”

“Does she make you happy, Tucker? Really?” She hadn’t meant to sound so serious, but she was a little worried about him.

“Of course she does,” he said, but he seemed tense and he was twisting his wedding ring like a stuck jar lid. “Could we stop talking about my marriage?”

“If you’d rather not talk about it.” Maybe Julie wasn’t good enough for Tucker. Maybe she’d seen what a catch he was and taken advantage of his kind nature.

“Okay, I’ll play your game,” he said abruptly, evidently taking her words as a challenge. “Her favorite food is chicken parmesan. Favorite ice cream—Cherry Garcia. She loves Bon Jovi. Her pet peeve is people who chat at the post office window when there’s a line. Her dress size is four—six if she feels bloated—and her favorite color is teal. Happy?”

“Teal, huh? Impressive. I didn’t think men even knew there was such a color. Of course you could be bluffing,” she teased. “I’ll check your answers at the back-to-school social. Julie will be there, right?”

“She’ll be there, all right.” But he didn’t look that happy about it.

An explanation suddenly occurred to her. “You don’t need to worry, Tuck. I’ll keep our sordid past a secret.” She winked, then drank another swallow of his beer, knowing it would annoy him.

“Would you like one of your own?” he asked wryly.

“It tastes better borrowed.” She was relieved he’d lightened up a little. “I can’t wait to meet Julie.”

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to meet you, too,” he said, tapping his beer bottle against her Dr. Pepper mug with a sigh.

Maybe once she met Julie, she’d feel better. Find out he was in a good marriage with a good woman. She didn’t want to think of him unhappy. And she didn’t want to be lusting after a married man. Any more than she already was, at least.

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