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She had also ignored the regular troop of sweaty boys in and out of her work area as she’d worked through lunchtimes. And the sounds of good-natured competition drifting in through the high windows from the court outside. And the angry, tense exchanges that all too often broke out as recreation became serious.
And worst, the disturbing presence of Charlie as he teased, cajoled, laughed, pleaded, reasoned, flattered and coaxed his way into the hearts and minds of a bunch of tough kids living tough lives. It was clear he was well respected by the regulars. Her ears homed in on his strong authoritative voice each lunch-hour as he encouraged and mediated, pushing the teens to be their best.
It sounded just like the voice he’d used with her at the accident scene. Calm. Confident. Positive. Designed to get the most out of a person, the best out of a situation. It put you at ease, made you feel—made you believe—you could do it. And combined with that crooked smile of his and his shaggy, unruly, rock-star hair that flopped endearingly into his eyes, it got results. Heaven knew, he’d managed to bring her back from the frightening grip of escalating panic.
The back door opened and startled her out of her reverie. The usual ragtag crowd jostled through the staffroom, laughing and joking, crowing over who’d won and who’d shot the most baskets.
Charlie and Joe trooped in after them. Joe grinned at her, gulped down a cold bottle of water from the fridge and burped loudly. ‘Needed that.’ He winked at her. ‘Gotta go, Charles. See you next week, Carrie.’
Carrie smiled. ‘See ya, Joe.’ She watched Joe leave the room and noticed how he signalled to Charlie with his index finger as if indicating the number one and then shot him a thumbs-up. Did he mean Charlie only had to put up with her for one more week?
Charlie rolled his eyes at his friend. ‘See you over the weekend.’ He was pleased when Joe left. He was more than aware that Carrie had caught Joe’s sign language even if she did look baffled as to its meaning.
Carrie waited for the door to close. ‘If you think I’ll be done in a week, I think you’ll be disappointed. You are an incredibly bad bookkeeper.’
Charlie chuckled. ‘I know.’ The paperwork had gone on hold also.
He looked sweaty and hot, his fringe plastered to his forehead. His crooked smile was sexy as hell. ‘It wasn’t meant to be funny,’ she said coolly, annoyed that she was developing a growing fascination with his smile.
‘I know.’ He laughed again.
Carrie threw her glasses on the table in exasperation and got out of her chair to stretch her legs and back. ‘You know, Charlie, if you spent as much time with the books as you do on the basketball court, things wouldn’t be in such a mess.’
Charlie gripped the edge of his locker, his peripheral vision full of Carrie twisting and flexing through her middle, emphasising the arch of her back and pushing her full breasts temptingly against the electric blue silk of her blouse. Her jacket was hanging off the back of her chair and he wished she’d leave the damn thing on.
He rustled around for his meds. ‘Being fit is important. It keeps me on the ball. Helps me work better with these kids.’
Carrie flopped out of her stretch, her gaze following his progress to the sink. ‘You take this fitness thing seriously, don’t you?’ she asked as she watched him swallow his pills.
He could feel her heavy whiskey gaze on him as he downed the medication and he had to concentrate on not choking on the tablets. He emptied the glass and turned to face her. ‘I do what I can.’
‘You do more than most. You take a lot of vitamin supplements.’
‘Oh…yeah,’ He turned away and placed his glass in the sink. Vitamins. Right.
He was lying. She caught a flicker of something in his usually open grey gaze before he turned away abruptly. So what were they if they weren’t vitamins? There were at least three tablets he took every lunch-hour.
Angela bustled into the room. ‘I’m sorry, Charlie, but Lilly’s sick. The school’s called. I’m going to have to leave.’
Oh, great! The immunisation clinic. ‘She OK?’
Angela shrugged. ‘A fever.’
‘Pop her in to me later, I’ll check her out.’
Angela looked uncertain. ‘The immunisation clinic, Charlie.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll manage. Just go.’ He smiled.
‘It’ll take you twice as long without me,’ Angela protested.
‘I’ll manage. Carrie will help,’ Charlie added, and shot his most confident smile at his dubious receptionist.
Carrie gaped. Did he think she didn’t have enough on her plate, without doing his work, too? She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind but he was looking at her with a plea in his eyes that she found hard to resist.
