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Lord, she’d been seriously deluded as a kid.
Well. She wasn’t about to be chased away. She had as much right to be here as they did.
…
Sam had been listening to Allie interact with her kids in the room next door for the better part of an hour, hearing them laugh at her comments, pepper her with questions, when he’d realized he had to get out of the classroom. Not because the discussion next door wasn’t appealing, but because he’d been straining to hear what she was going to say next, like some love-sick teenager.
It was damn embarrassing.
Coffee had sounded pretty good, and was the perfect solution for his dilemma. So he’d taken refuge in the faculty lounge, which was peacefully quiet during his free period.
He didn’t know why he was letting her get under his skin. Especially since she’d made it painfully clear what she thought about him and his work.
Like so many other people before.
Devaluing his hard work and the careful attention he brought to so many tragic stories. Some of the families had even written him later to thank him for the closure his books had provided them. And in one case, his footwork in re-interviewing some of the witnesses had actually helped in the eventual capture of the real killer.
He was a goddamn hero. And she treated him like he was some kind of immoral paparazzi, a reporter for some damn cheesy tabloid.
And her last comment about writing about her in his next book? What kind of a leech did she think he was? He would never stoop so low as to include such a personal experience in his book.
Well. He was pretty certain.
To be honest, if there was an angle that would be relevant to the story, he wouldn’t necessarily rule it out. But that unusual likelihood would only happen if Allie or someone present at the party had been, somehow, involved in Mr. Williams’s murder.
He thought back to Allie fifteen years ago. And made a face.
Hell, no. She’d been as big a goody-two-shoes then as she was now.
He wondered what the prim little do-gooder would have done if he’d acted on his inclination in the garden yesterday afternoon and kissed her soundly… His instincts told him she’d probably have enjoyed it as much as he would.
He slammed his eyes closed and gave himself a mental kick in the ass.
This was pathetic. Daydreaming about a goddamn kiss with the schoolteacher?
The problem was he needed to seriously get laid. Then he’d be able to get those bright baby blues from his mind permanently.
He opened his eyes, and as if on cue, Meredith Sanders, the chairwoman of the planning committee appeared in the doorway. He remembered her from high school. She’d been much younger than him, in Allie’s class if he remembered right, although Meredith had been developed enough he hadn’t worried she was still in junior high. She’d also been on the junior cheerleading squad, and therefore, was at the same parties he’d been invited to.
Meredith’s gaze fell on him immediately, and her lips curved into a welcoming smile. “Hello, Sam,” she said in a low, seductive voice. “I trust you’re enjoying your second week at St. Andrew’s? No new bodies have turned up or dangerous fires have started, at least.” Her brown gaze appraised him from beneath her lashes.
“Good to see you, Meredith.” He extended his hand out in an invitation for her to join him, and she slid into the adjoining chair. “What brings you here? You’re not on the faculty, are you?” He’d met so many people the past week, and there were so many he still hadn’t met, he couldn’t be sure.
She laughed. “Oh, good heavens no. I’m here strictly as a concerned parent. My stepdaughter is a senior here, if you can believe it.” She swung her glossy, dark brown hair so it settled around her shoulders. “Her father lives in Texas these days—we’re recently divorced” —she slid that bit into the conversation quite easily— “but Darcy, being so close to graduating, wanted to stay on here with me. We’re rather close, and I’m afraid I can be a little overprotective, which is why I’m here now.” She crossed her legs and leaned toward him. “The years have certainly treated you well, Sam Fratto. No Mrs. Fratto, though, I take it?”
She glanced pointedly at his ring finger. Now, this was a woman who didn’t beat around the bush. She was direct, to the point, and willing to put herself out there. Unlike some women he could name…
“Very perceptive,” he said with a smile. “Maybe you’ve missed your calling and should have been a journalist.” He picked up his mug and brought it to his mouth, hesitating to add, “And no, not married. Never headed down that path. But I do have a son.”
“Really? I’d love to hear about him. You know what I think? I think you need to get a little perspective of life outside this dingy, old building. I’d love nothing better than to take you out for coffee. Anything has to be an improvement over the swill they serve here.”
She had a point. He swallowed the acrid brew. “Well…”
“Maybe I could show you some of the newest developments in downtown Salt Lake you haven’t seen.”
Yeah, he bet she could.
He’d been thinking of how he needed some action. A distraction from his thoughts concerning a particularly irritating, stubborn blonde. And it was only coffee, right?
