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Sitting behind the solid oak desk that now belonged to him, Michael rested his palms on the cool wood and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and released it.
Bex Cane was his colleague. So what?
There was no reason for him to even talk to her, except for their biannual performance reviews. He smirked. He was herboss. Opening his eyes, he scanned the desk for the login details for his computer, booted it up, and entered them when requested. He clicked the icon for email, but while that was loading, he couldn’t resist reaching for the staff list beside the phone and scrolling until he found “Rebecca Cane” printed beside an extension number. He noted the last name with satisfaction. Hollister had only referred to her as “Rebecca,” leaving him to wonder if she’d ever married. Now he had his answer. Rebecca Cane was an unmarried art teacher living in the town where she’d grown up.
Things hadn’t gone according to plan.
It served her right. People like Bex didn’t deserve success, and he’d make sure she knew it.
Chapter Two
MichaelfreakingBriggston.
If Bex didn’t have a class to teach, she’d have been gone the minute Andy Hollister released them from the staff meeting. Her friend Shane, also a teacher, had cast concerned glances at her during the meeting, noting her tension, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to acknowledge him. She’d been too terrified. Every part of her was rigid, and the voice in her head screamed to pull Izzy from class, take her home, lock the door, and hold her close. Or to run and never look back.
Had the Briggstons finally discovered the truth?
No. She shook her head. She was being crazy. If they had, Wesley or his mother, Imogen, would be here rather than Michael. Her hands trembled as she sifted through the papers on her desk, trying to recall what she’d planned for this morning. Her students would be arriving any minute now. God, she could hardly gather her scattered thoughts together, how was she going to make it through?
Michael washere. He was herboss.
He’d be living in Haven Bay, shopping at the minimart, walking on her favorite beach. What if he saw Izzy? If he put two and two together and alerted his family, the Briggstons would descend on the town in force. She shuddered, her mouth going dry at the thought of seeing Imogen again. That old witch-with-a-B had always put the fear of God into her, even if she’d never allowed it to show.
The door swung open and she jumped, a hand to her chest as kids began to wander in and claim seats.
Take it down a notch, Bex.
First things first. She needed to survive the morning, and then she’d figure out what to do. She laughed mirthlessly, drawing stares from some of the students. Yeah,thatwas likely. Somehow, in between training her clients at the gym, finishing her commissioned painting, finding the plush kiwi her daughter had lost, doing a week’s worth of laundry, and visiting the grocery store, she’d find time to sit down with a glass of wine and think through the implications of Michael Briggston being in Haven Bay.
Time was one thing she didn’t have.
A second bell rang, signaling the beginning of class, and she smoothed her hands down her skirt, straightened her shoulders, and plastered a smile on her face.
“Hi everyone! I hope you all had lots of fun over the weekend. Now, for today, you’ll need to get yourself a smock from the corner because we’re going to be working with clay.”
The toothy grins from twenty-five ten-year-olds made up for the extra time it would take to put their creations through the kiln. She didn’t let them use clay often, but when she did, it was the most excited she ever saw them. Unfortunately, their obvious pleasure couldn’t erase the events of the morning from her mind, and by the time they were tidying up, she’d glanced out the window on no less than twenty occasions and was itching to get the hell out of there.
When class ended, she ushered them out, hung the discarded smocks up, and wiped down the benches. She had just slung her handbag over her shoulder to leave—with half a mind to take Izzy with her—when the door opened, and Michael Briggston walked in.
Michael had thoughthe’d lost his misguided romantic notion of Bex Cane when she took money from his mother to have an abortion, but he’d been kidding himself. Nothing could have prepared him for seeing her up close. She was as stunning as ever, with her golden brown skin, expressive eyes, and the proud set of her jaw. She was tall for a woman, although he was taller, and her leanness served to emphasize her height.
When her dark eyes alighted on him, the air vacated his lungs, and he stilled, the speech he’d prepared on the way over completely forgotten. His tongue felt thick and clumsy in his mouth, the same as it used to around her in those first days when he realized he had a hopeless crush on his brother’s girlfriend. He feared that if he tried to speak, the noises wouldn’t make any sense.
Her gaze shuttered, and her posture stiffened. “Hello, Michael.”
He settled for a nod, so he wouldn’t risk embarrassing himself. Her free hand went to the strap of her bag, wrapping around it. He remembered how she used to hold onto things when she was nervous so she wouldn’t fidget.
“Well, this is awkward,” she said.
His lips twitched. She’d never been one to beat around the bush, a quality he’d appreciated about her, having come from a family of politicians and diplomats.
“Yes,” he agreed. “It certainly is.”
“What are you doing here?”
Hadn’t she heard the official introduction? Or had she been as off-balance as he was, and somehow missed it? “I’m the new principal.”
She rolled her eyes. “I got that part. What I meant is, why Haven Bay? It’s not exactly your scene.”
