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“I didn’t know you could turn it off like that,” Sasha said dryly.
But Kate refused to be goaded into saying more. She crossed her legs, and as she did, I caught a glimpse of red soles on the bottom of her shoes.
“Nice shoes,” I said in an attempt to both change the subject and lighten the mood of the room.
Kate grew wistful. “Thanks. They were a gift.”
“Wow,” Julie said, eyeing the shoes in question. “That’s like Christmas, birthday, and anniversary all bundled up together.”
“Let’s just say the gift was a reminder of a very special time.” Kate still had the wistful look, but unless I was mistaken, there was a hint of sadness in her tone as well. Yet just as suddenly as it showed up, it was gone, replaced by a smile. “I think that’s everything I needed. You guys have my number if you need me or if you have any questions?”
“I’ll make sure they have it,” I answered. “We’re going to go over some group topics, and I’d invite you to stay, but since you’re not in the lifestyle anymore . . .”
Kate was already packing her things up. “No, that’s okay. I need to drop by the office.”
I walked her out, and we set up a tentative lunch date for the next week. I had been thoroughly impressed with her, though I was a bit perturbed to share that with Nathaniel.
I had no problems sharing it with the other women. Everyone agreed she was perfect for the job. Everyone except Sasha, who was unusually quiet.
Julie picked up on it first. “Tell us what the problem is,” she said. “I know that look.”
For a few moments I didn’t think Sasha would answer. She sat on the couch, her fingers tracing her collar. Finally, she sighed. “If Cole finds out I told you, he’ll think I was gossiping, and that won’t go over well, but hell, I can’t help it.” Her eyes danced with mischief. “I know who gave her the shoes.”
“Oh?” I said, wondering where this was going.
Sasha nodded. “Yes. Cole’s mentor, Fritz Brose, called him a few weeks ago wanting to know Kate’s shoe size. Cole thinks they hooked up briefly while she was in Germany.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, trying to sort out the details. “Cole’s mentor and friend, the one who did your collaring ceremony, hooked up with his ex?”
“Cole said he’s had a thing for her forever,” Sasha added with a smile. “But here’s the interesting part—”
“It gets more interesting?” Dena asked. “Because it already sounds like a soap opera.”
“Trust me,” Sasha said. “Abby, do you remember who the contractor is for the new club?”
I shook my head. “Nathaniel just said it was some . . . Oh my God.” I gasped as I remembered. “Some German guy.”
“Yup,” Sasha said. “And I don’t think either Fritz or Kate knows they’ll be working together.”
Julie giggled. “Damn. What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall when that meeting goes down.”
Don’t miss the second book
in Tara Sue Me’s
Lessons from the RACK series,
Headmaster
Available in January 2018.
Winnie’s Journal
I saw him as soon as he walked into the room. How could I not? He was by far the hottest man at the party. The way he strolled in, with that swagger only the most confident of men have. I’m sure if I had been able to look anywhere except at him, I would have seen other women similarly obsessed. His dark hair, dark eyes, and that mouth? Hell, that wasn’t even taking into account his hot-as-hell, fuck-me-all-night body.
But when I had a chance to look around at something else, it wasn’t at other women; it was at Marie, and I knew I was in trouble. We’d never wanted the same thing before.
The one thing Mariela could count on to never let her down was dance—it was one thing she could turn to and lean on. The one thing guaranteed to make a day better or to take away all her stress. Through thick and thin, ups and downs, it had always been her rock. Until today, when the rock crumbled.
She took a deep breath, moved into position, and jumped and turned in a coupé jeté en tournant. Finding her technique lacking, she repeated it again and again until, exhausted, she leaned against the barre and let a string of curses fly.
“Bad day?” someone asked from the hallway.
Mariela lifted her head and forced a smile at Andie Lincoln, the RACK Academy’s newest chef. “You could say that.”
“In that case, I came just in time. Come with me; I need someone to try my icing and tell me if it sucks.”
Mariela pushed back from the barre and wiped the sweat from her forehead with a nearby towel. “Isn’t that what we have the men for?”
“Yes, well, that and sex. But Fulton always likes everything I make and Lennox just kind of looks at me like I grew a second head and says he doesn’t understand why I feel the need to improve upon perfection.” She tilted her head. “So now that I think about it, nah, that’s not what we have men for. We only have them here for sex.”
Mariela laughed, glad that Andie had shown up to drag her away from a disappointing ballet session. “Okay. Let me clean up and I’ll be right there.”
“Just come like that. No one’s here yet.”
Mariela looked down at her leotard and tights. Not really dining room appropriate, but then again, the students for the fall session wouldn’t arrive for another week. She threw her towel back over the barre. “You’re right. What kind of icing are we talking about?”
Andie started chatting about buttercream versus cream cheese, and to be honest, Mariela zoned out a bit. Cooking and baking were not her things. That’s what chefs were for.
Andie pushed open the two wide wooden doors that led into the dining area. “Okay, you go have a seat and I’ll bring the samples out to you.”
Mariela looked around the area and breathed a sigh of relief at finding there was no one else in the dining area. And by no one else, she meant the headmaster, Lennox MacLure, who, other than Andie and Fulton, was the one other person on the island that housed the academy. The other staff members would be arriving tomorrow.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t been sitting for longer than two minutes before Lennox walked through the door. She dropped her head and pretended to be horribly curious about something in her lap.
She expected him to ignore her. After all, that’s what he did best. But even with her head down, she could feel him approach her.
“Marie,” he said, calling her by the nickname only he used.
She looked up and, like always, he took her breath away. Dark and dashing were the words her best friend, Winnie, had once used to describe him. She had been right. With his black-as-sin hair and gray eyes, he looked like he belonged between the pages of a historical romance, starring as an evil pirate or maybe an unrepentant rake.
“Lennox,” she said, cringing because she knew her raspy voice gave her away.
“You are aware the dining hall has a dress code?”
She waited for him to smile and tell her it was a joke, that of course he wasn’t going to enforce the dress code when there were only four people on the island. But the smile didn’t come, and neither did the “Ha-ha-ha, I’m just joking” line.
“What?” she finally asked.
“The dress code,” he snapped. “You’re in violation of it.”
“Oh my God. You’re serious.”
“We have rules and regulations for a reason.”
“Right, but since there are only four of us here . . .” She trailed off, assuming her intent would be clear.
