6

“The new teacher’s hot.”

Giggles and other adolescent noises followed the declaration behind her.

Chloe didn’t react as she wrote her name on the white board.

The culprit had to be one of the five boys in the class. Most likely Dylan, the shaggy-haired Romeo in the first row.

She turned to face the group, hoping Mrs. Merriweather would return from the office before they noticed Chloe’s knees shaking. “Hi, everyone. I’ll be assisting Mrs. Merriweather with this class for a few weeks.”

A wolf whistle erupted.

Chloe needed to gain the upper hand or they’d make tapioca pudding out of her. “Keep in mind that Vice Principal North, or Principal Jenkins, could come in at any time. You don’t want to give them any reason to get rid of me, do you?” She pinned Dylan with a no-nonsense stare.

A chorus of no’s filled the air.

“Good. So let’s keep things professional and we’ll get along just fine.”

A few girls snickered behind their notebooks.

“I hope you aren’t giving Miss Martin a hard time.” The no-nonsense voice of Chloe’s former teacher preceded her into the classroom. The stout, gray-haired woman frowned at her students. Obviously having her bandaged hand in a sling would not deter her.

“No, ma’am,” came the sheepish chorus.

Chloe bit back a smile at the familiar scenario. It was as if she’d never graduated.

“Good. Now let’s get started.”

After Mrs. Merriweather’s lesson, Chloe herded the kids into the kitchen. The teacher had chosen a fairly simple recipe of spaghetti and meat balls.

Soon Chloe had a group boiling noodles, one browning the meatballs, and another making sauce. The appealing scent of onions and garlic filled the room. Chloe kept close to Lindsay, impressed with the girl’s skill. Chloe pulled the metal colander over to the sink so that Lindsay could drain the pasta. “Does your mother like to cook, Lindsay?”

“Not really.” The girl’s response was tight-lipped.

“Is your dad the cook in the family, then?”

Lindsay dropped a ladle into the empty pot with a clunk. “My dad left when I was six.”

Chloe stilled. “I’m sorry. That must have been tough.”

“Yeah.” Lindsay’s gaze slid away. “My mom works a lot, so I cook for us.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“A younger brother.” Lindsay reached for a stack of plates on the counter.

Chloe began to get the picture. Lindsay was responsible for her brother while her mother worked long hours. No wonder the girl looked beaten by the world. Chloe’s father had died when she was twelve. The sense of loss haunted her childhood, as she was sure it haunted Lindsay.

“I’m sorry things are hard for you at home. But cooking is great therapy. Whenever I feel sad, I whip up a batch of brownies. Guaranteed to make anyone smile.”

Lindsay gave a wistful smile. “I know. Cooking is the best thing in my life.”

Chloe hoped to inspire Lindsay with dreams for the future, just as Mrs. Merriweather had done for her.

After the final bell sounded, Chloe scoured the kitchen. Scrubbing out the deep, stainless steel sink, she realized with a start that she hadn’t thought of Richard in hours. Keeping busy was proving to be the best medicine.

Voices echoed from the hallway, and the door squeaked open.

Chloe turned, expecting to see Mrs. Merriweather.

Instead, Aidan strode toward her.

Her heart thumped a hard beat in her chest. Handsome and authoritative in his navy suit, his presence dominated the room.

He leaned one hip against the counter and smiled. “So how was the first day?”

She continued to wipe the counters. “Better than I expected. So far the kids are well behaved.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Even Dylan Moore? He can be a handful.”

“I think we’ve reached an understanding. For now.” She hung the cloth over the sink to dry.

“How are you getting home?”

“I planned to walk. It’s a beautiful day.” Her pulse skittered at his intense gaze.

“Can I give you a ride? There’s something I’d like to show you on the way. A project I have in mind for the kids.”

The pull of attraction quivered along her nerve endings like a living, breathing being. Chloe pushed a piece of hair behind one ear, wishing she could push her feelings away as easily. The need for caution warred with her curiosity. What kind of project did he have in mind? Could it help her get to know Lindsay better? Although she wanted—no, needed—to keep her distance from Aidan, the ride would give her the chance to ask him more about the girl.

“Wait one minute and I’ll get my purse.”

****

Aidan pulled into the lot adjacent to the abandoned building. Nerves, along with his afternoon coffee, churned in his stomach. Getting Chloe on board with this project would mean spending more time around her, a potential problem unless he could get his feelings under control. He didn’t need a romantic involvement with any woman, much less a co-worker and his sister’s best friend.

But to get his venture underway, he needed someone with Chloe’s energy and enthusiasm. Most of the teachers on staff were more interested in retirement than in taking on any extra-curricular activities with the kids.

“Isn’t this the old YMCA?” Chloe asked.

“It is. Come in, and I’ll show you my plan.”

The run-down building would need a fair bit of work, but Aidan could envision the end result with perfect clarity. He unlocked the front door. The rusty hinges groaned.

“How come you have a key?” Wariness swam in Chloe’s brown eyes.

“The owner is a friend of mine. He let me have the key to see if the space would suit for a teen rec center I want to open.” Aidan flipped the light switch, illuminating a swarm of dust motes.

In the large room that functioned as a gymnasium, basketball nets hung on either side of the area. A set of bleachers took up one wall. A faint odor of old gym shoes hung in the air.

“This space would be great for all types of sports.” Aidan led the way to a door at the far end, pushed it open, and turned on the light. “And I thought I could turn this into a games room, where the kids could read, watch TV, or play video games. I’ll add a couple of couches, maybe an area rug. I’d want to paint it and make it brighter, more welcoming.” He stopped rambling long enough to gauge her reaction. “What do you think?”

She scanned the room. “It’s a great idea. Who would supervise the kids when they’re here?”

Aidan shrugged. “That’s one of the details I haven’t worked out yet. I was hoping to get input from any teachers or parents who may want to volunteer their time.”

Chloe walked around the perimeter. “You could get a Ping-Pong table in here. Kids would love that. And ask for donations of used games and books. You could have a table and chairs on this side. And maybe an Internet station.”

He smiled. She was getting enthused about the project, just as he’d hoped. “Exactly. Somewhere they can kick back and relax, without getting into trouble.”

“Reminds me of the youth group Nick used to run in the church basement when I was a teen. Nick forced me to go—for my own good.” She grinned. “I went through a rebellious period.”

His heart stuttered at her mischievous expression. With considerable effort, he pulled his attention back to the conversation. “My plan is to expand on the idea of a youth group and incorporate more physical activities, like basketball, volleyball, maybe some floor hockey. Something to keep the boys off the street.”

“That should work.” She stuck her head out the door. “Is there a kitchen in here somewhere?”

“I think so. A small one in the far corner.”

“Let’s check it out. I could get the kids making snacks. Or maybe offer cooking lessons.”

“So you’d be willing to help then?” Aidan tried not to appear too eager as they entered the kitchenette. He snapped on the light, revealing a serviceable area with a stove, an older fridge, a sink and counter, as well as a rectangular workspace in the middle.

“Sure. It sounds worthwhile for the kids.” She opened the oven to peer inside. “Speaking of kids, what can you tell me about Lindsay Brown?”

Aidan blinked at the sudden change in topic. “She’s a good student. Has a younger brother, Matt, who can be a challenge at times. Why?”

Chloe pulled her jacket tight, reminding Aidan to check the heating system.

“I don’t know. She just seems so sad all the time.”

Aidan frowned and stepped toward her, close enough to smell her perfume. “Let me give you some advice. It’s best to stay out of the students’ personal lives.”

She bristled like an indignant hen. “How can you say that? Some of these kids need us to get involved. If their parents aren’t looking out for them, don’t we have an obligation to do so?”

Her unexpected anger took Aidan by surprise. A bitter swirl of emotion swam in his stomach as the image of Emily Andrews came to mind. “Not everyone wants to be helped, Chloe. Sometimes it’s best to leave well enough alone.” He’d learned the hard way that good intentions did not always count when things went wrong. He switched off the kitchen lights and strode into the gym.

The clatter of Chloe’s high-heeled boots warned him she wasn’t about to let this go. Her hand on his arm stopped him, as did her amber eyes, which burned bright.

“What happened to make you so cynical?”

He pulled his arm free and paced away, stopping with his back to her. He closed his eyes against the tide of memories sweeping in. Loathe as he was to talk about the past, he needed to make Chloe understand the dangers involved. He turned to face her. “I used to be like you when I first started teaching. That changed when I tried to help one of my students, a troubled sixteen-year-old girl named Emily.” He paused to contain his emotions. “She confided in me, told me she was being abused by a family member. I tried to intervene. Called in Child Protective Services…and got punched out by her father for my efforts.” He rubbed his jaw, remembering the unpleasant sensation. “After several sessions with a social worker, the girl finally admitted she had lied to get my attention. Turns out she had some romantic delusions about me.” He forced back the anger he still carried. “I got suspended for trying to help someone I thought was in trouble.”

“I’m sorry. That’s so unfair.”

“The point is you need to keep things strictly professional. Let the school counselors handle anything else.” What did he see in her eyes? Sadness, confusion, regret?

“I’m sorry, I don’t know if I can do that,” she said softly. “But I’ll keep it in mind.”

Her phone chirped out some pop tune. She pulled it out, grimaced at the display, and stuffed it back in her pocket.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?”

“No.” Color tinged her cheeks.

“Your boyfriend?” The words came out too harsh.

“Ex-boyfriend.”

“Does he call often?”

“Yes, but I don’t answer.” She pushed out the front door.

Aidan turned off the main lights, locked the door, and then followed her to the car.

Chloe sat, staring straight ahead.

He slid into the driver’s side, hating the unspoken tension. “What did he do?” Aidan’s question was quiet as he pulled onto the street.

Her phone chimed again.

When she accepted the call, he frowned. She’d rather talk to the jerk than answer him. Not a good sign.

“Richard, I told you to stop calling.”

Aidan couldn’t make out his response.

“I don’t care what…” Chloe rubbed a hand across her forehead. “Nothing has changed, Richard. Don’t call again.” She disconnected with a loud huff and crammed the device into her purse.

Aidan let a minute pass in silence. “He wants you back, doesn’t he?” What guy wouldn’t?

“It doesn’t matter. It’s far too late for that.”