Rebel's Spirit

A sigh of relief rushed from him a split second after she came into view. She’d managed to wrap the towel around her and was tucking a corner between her breasts.

“Yes, Miss Barnett?” he asked, watching her swipe water from her chin with the backs of her fingers.

“How’s your heart, Mr. Hanlon?”

Her clever response reminded him of the way she’d always loved getting in the last word. Brava. Slipping his hands in his trouser pockets, he nodded with a deceptively polite smile.

“Same condition it was in when we last spoke. Colder than ever, Miss Barnett.”

Now was the moment for making his getaway, but her plucky attitude compelled him to wait for the inevitable comeback.

“I’ve…ch-changed,” she said as an impish grin teased at her lips.

Or was that a muscle twitch brought on by the cold?

He had all he could do not to reach out and give her arms a brisk rub. Knowing that wasn’t the whole truth, he allowed his gaze to slide slowly down her body to the fine gold chain encircling her ankle. For some off-thewall reason he couldn’t fathom, the simple piece of jewelry inspired him to wonder how she would respond if he pulled her hard against him and kissed her until her lips were pink and swollen. If he gave himself half a chance he’d be putting the teacher/student taboo in the same place she obviously had. Ten years in the past. But he didn’t believe in taking chances, even half of one.

“Here,” he said, removing his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. “If you insist on prolonging this conversation,” he said sternly, “I don’t want you keeling over from hypothermia.”

As he turned up the collar, she hunched her shoulders and pressed her cheek to it. His thumb brushed her mouth at the same time she exhaled a soft “ahh.” The sound, coupled with the feel of her cool lips and puff of warm air, effectively bolted him to the flagstones beneath his feet.

Her eyelids drifted shut.

His lips parted.

“That feels so good,” she said, luxuriating in the body heat clinging to the lining.

His body heat. His jacket. Her body. She was pushing buttons and jiggling toggle switches he didn’t know he possessed until that second.

She flexed her knees and the subtle move made him think about her hips. He pictured the sleek curves, along with the rest of her body, brushing against the coat lining. The blatantly sensuous movement had him aching to pull her close and move with her. But he wasn’t going to. No matter that he had his hands on a nearly naked woman with an arousingly sensual nature, he had distance to keep along with his sanity. He looked down at her rosy cheeks, her moist lips and the way her lashes clumped together to make little points. As the wind rustled the branches of a nearby holly tree, he reminded himself to breathe while he figured out what not to do next.

She wriggled closer. Or was he pulling her closer? Her eyes opened, locking with his gaze instantly. Unlike his heartbeat, her lashes had stopped fluttering.

“Mr. Hanlon,” she whispered.

“Yes, Miss Barnett?”

“I—I’m not your student anymore and I—”

“I’m beginning to realize that,” he said, taking in the treasures of her face.

She moistened her lips with a quick lick, leaving them wet, ready and quivering. He slid his thumbs down the lapels and took a step closer.

“Your point being…?” he asked, his voice a husky drawl he hardly recognized as his own.

“I’ll be right across the driveway from you. And you’ll be…right across the driveway from me…”

He raised his eyebrows, urging her to continue with the simple but promising scenario.

“I’ll be here through the holidays and the class reunion. And I was wondering if we—”

He let go of the lapels and stepped back. She was in town for her class reunion? What the hell was he doing! Counting and recounting the five freckles across her nose? Memorizing the little hum her body made when she sighed? Wondering who put that ankle bracelet above those pretty pink enameled toenails of hers? “The reunion. Of course. I see. And you’ll be getting together with some of your old classmates. What is it that you want from me? Permission to throw a party? Maybe look the other way if you want another dip in the pool with your friends?”

She shook her head. “I want you to stop calling me Miss Barnett.”

“You’re married?” he asked, feeling strangely disappointed and relieved in the same moment.

“No,” she said. “I just don’t see the need, after all this time, for us to be so formal.” She glanced down at her scanty attire. “Especially now.”

He didn’t even try to stop his smile. “You want me to call you Rebecca? Is that it?”

She thought for a moment. “No. Call me Reb.”

“Reb? Why that old nickname? Why not Becky?”

Her gaze wandered over his face. “I just want to hear you call me Reb.”

He nodded. “Short for rebel, wasn’t it?”

Her shivers had stopped and her lips were curving into a quirky, lopsided smile that made his heart thump. “I think there’ll always be a part of me that is,” she said, hitching up her towel. “But just a little part…Raleigh.”

“Raleigh?” He nodded as he spotted her gate key sitting on top of a security lamp. Handing it to her, he began working his own key out of the gate lock. “I’d prefer that over my old nickname.”

“Old nickname?” she asked.

“You know, Reb, the one you stuck me with.”

Her brows shot up in feigned innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. Show-No-Mercy Hanlon. You painted it on the wall in the teachers’ lounge. In big green letters, as I recall.”

“It wasn’t in green, it was in red.” A second later she was slapping a hand over her mouth and squeezing her eyes shut.

When more of his own memories about that incident began rushing in, he headed out of the gate and across the crushed stone drive.

“Mr. Han—I mean, Raleigh. Ouch! Wait!” she called as she hurried after him.

Turning to face her, he cleared his throat at the improbable sight before him. She was holding the jacket closed with one hand and gesturing with the other as she made her way across the stones. Her torturous progress resembled a sexy new dance step. The faster she moved the higher the hem of the jacket rose, exposing a widening line of terry cloth.

“I’m listening.” And looking. Lord, how I’m looking.

Stopping abruptly, she attempted a wobbly balance as she jammed her free hand to her hip. Any hair that wasn’t clinging to her head was framing her wincing expression in peaked, curvy locks.

“What made you think it was me who painted thatthat name on the wall?” she asked, her tone both disbelieving and demanding. “We all wore ski masks that morning.”

“You mean other than that you just confirmed it?” he asked, as he watched her towel begin sliding from beneath his jacket.

“Yes, of course, other than that,” she said, gesturing emphatically, then frantically grabbing for the red terry cloth.

Too late, Raleigh thought, as the towel slid to her ankles over the most beautiful legs and backside he’d ever seen. “You mooned me then, too.”

Two

Twenty minutes later Rebecca Barnett pushed open the door to the Chocolate Chip Café. Her gaze swept the interior of Follett River’s favorite college coffee house, before zeroing in on the busy blonde behind the counter. Just the person she came to see, Reb thought as she made her way through the sea of tables to the counter. Moving one of the tall chairs aside, she pressed her hands on the faux marble surface and leaned toward her friend on the other side.

“Raleigh Hanlon’s back in town.”

Megan Sloan scooped a dollop of frosting from the bowl next to the three-layer cake on the counter. As the pretty young widow carefully spread the liqueur-scented mixture over the top, she raised her brows.

“Surprised you, did he?”

“You could say that,” Rebecca said, sliding onto a cane-back chair as she shoved both sets of fingers through her damp hair.

“Reb, I tried calling you earlier to tell you, but I guess you haven’t hooked up your answering machine yet. Aren’t you concerned you’ll miss your business calls?” Megan asked as she swirled the spatula through the frosting.

“New Horizon Tours’ Miami office is more than capable of taking care of itself. That’s why I’m thinking about opening a branch up here.”

Megan Sloan checked the depth of frosting on the sides of the cake before finally looking up at her friend. Her green eyes widened. “Reb! Your hair!” she said, dropping the spatula into the bowl, then reaching for her friend’s hands. “What have you been up to?”

“Do you want the whole story or just the good parts?”

“The whole story, of course,” she said glancing at her watch. “And I bet it’s a Barnett classic, but unfortunately I barely have time for the good parts. Piece Of Cake got a last-minute catering job that I couldn’t pass up. So…?”

Nodding, Rebecca looked around to make certain no one was within earshot. No use blowing her new-andimproved image in front of a roomful of strangers, too. “I went skinny-dipping in Raleigh Hanlon’s pool…and he caught me.”

Megan choked back a scream. “Oh, Reb,” she said, pulling napkins from a dispenser then shoving them against her mouth. When her fit of laughter slowed, she dabbed at her eyes and shook her head. “I’m so glad you came back to Follett River. Things have been darn dull since you left.”

“Dull?” she asked, coming off the chair. “How could they possibly be dull with Raleigh Hanlon around?”

“Come on, it’s been ten years since you two bad those go-arounds. He’s not so bad. Maybe a tad grumpy at times for someone in his thirties, but honestly—”

“I’m not talking about his grumpy side. I’m talking about his, well…” Her words trailed off as she pictured the way he looked at her as he wrapped her in his jacket. When he pulled the wool tweed collar against her cheek the sensation was surprisingly pleasant. A slow smile lifted one side of her mouth. And for a moment, there, so were you, Raleigh Hanlon.

“Yes? His…?” Megan urged as she began sprinkling chopped hazelnuts over the cake.

“Never mind,” she said, easing her rear onto the seat again. The very rear she’d exposed to him on at least two different occasions. She took a deep breath then slowly exhaled at that last thought. “What’s he been doing for the past ten years?”

Megan kinked a brow. “Why this interest in your least favorite teacher all of a sudden?”

Rebecca picked up a few pieces of chopped hazelnuts with the pads of her fingers. “No reason,” she said before licking her fingertips and shrugging. “He’s my landlord. That’s all.”

“You never could lie to me,” her friend said in a singsong fashion.

“Meggie, give me a break here,” she said, dropping her shoulders. “For old times’ sake, just answer the question.”

“I’ve already told you. He’s a history professor at Follett College now. He’s working on his second book about ancient civilizations. I think this one’s about the Incas.”

“Megan Sloan,” Reb said in a tone reserved for misbehaving pets, bad drivers and best friends who weren’t getting the message. “I meant his private life.”

Megan reached for a container of chocolate-dipped hazelnuts and began circling the top of the cake with them. “You know he’s from over in Daleville. Well, about nineteen years ago his brother got a girl pregnant, then died before he could marry her. Mr. Hanlon’s been helping them out over the years. This niece, her name’s Penny, is all he has left since both his parents are dead. Lately Penny has been giving her mother fits.”

Rebecca tapped her nails on the faux marble as her friend went on about the girl’s troublesome adolescence.

“Megan, I know all about how difficult teenagers can be. I believe I was the poster child for that particular condition five years in a row. What I want to know about is his private private life.”

Setting aside the container, Megan rested her elbows on the counter and dropped her chin into the cups of her hands.

“Reb Barnett, what scandalous vengeance are you planning to wreak on poor old Professor Hanlon now?”

“Old? He’s not old, he’s—” What was she defending him for? He’d left her standing in his driveway with her hard-won image of a mature woman, not to mention a bath towel, around her ankles. None of her reactions had made any sense then, and they weren’t making any more sense now.

“Meggie,” she said quietly, rubbing her temples, “I’m trying to sort out a few things.”

“What things?”

“I don’t know. He looked at me in an odd way.”

“Gee, you don’t think that had anything to do with him discovering you swimming naked in his pool, do you?”

Staring at the packages of gourmet coffees behind her friend, Rebecca absently ran her tongue over the edges of her teeth. “I think that was part of it.”

Megan pushed up from the counter. “You’re not joking, are you? Something’s going on between you two, isn’t it?”

Her friend’s last question sounded like an indisputable fact and a disturbing one at that. The idea of being attracted to her former teacher was still an outrageous one to her, too. Opening her hands and raising them palms up, she gave an exaggerated shrug. “Nothing is going on. I just saw the man for the first time in ten years and…”

“Sounds to me as if you just saw the man for the first time. What are you planning in that deliciously devious mind of yours?”

Rebecca gave a quick look around at the young college crowd hunched over their cappuccinos and caffé lattes before turning back to Megan. Scissoring her hands over the cake, she announced, “I have never thought of him in that way.”

“Well, thank goodness for that,” Megan said, in a deceptively demure voice. Lifting the cake, she placed the holiday dessert into a prefolded box then winked at her friend. “Because knowing you, you could have gotten him arrested.”

“Very funny,” she said, helping with the flapping box top. “I hope you don’t think I’m thinking of him in that way today…” The sound of her own nervous laughter made her wince. “I mean…that’s so…”

“Ah, Reb, you used to be so articulate when it came to Mr. Hanlon. Now you can’t seem to put together a complete sentence about the guy.” She pressed her palm to her chest. “Did I mention he’s divorced?”

“Divorced?” Reb repeated, unable to ignore how instantly hungry she was for more information. And how suddenly hesitant she was to ask for it.

“Four years ago, so I think we can safely say she’s out of the picture. But imagine what his wife would have said if she’d found you naked in—”

“Dear Lord, I never considered the possibility that he could be married,” she whispered.

“Really? Well, the important thing now is to think of him as available.”

Available? The idea that she would be romantically interested in Show-No-Mercy Hanlon wasn’t even funny. It was crazy.

“I swear, Meggie, that skinny-dip meant nothing more than a little secret revenge for all he put me through ten years ago. Now that I’ve seen him…now that he’s seen me, all I want to do is prove to him that I’ve changed. That I can handle myself in a mature fashion,” she said, her voice rising as she did from the stool. “That I’m not the self-indulgent, trouble-making heathen he once thought I was. That I’m dependable, presentable and charming as hell,” she said, whacking her hand on the countertop. “What are you smiling about?”

“You’re serious about that?”

“Damn straight,” she said, flicking back an errant lock of hair that had tumbled over her forehead.

“Great. Then you can start demonstrating all those admirable qualities to him tonight.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, kinking one brow.

“Raleigh Hanlon called me from Daleville this morning and asked if Piece Of Cake could cater desserts for a get-together at his place. I guess he’s been so busy with his niece he’d forgotten he’d agreed to host the faculty’s first holiday party. You’d be helping me out if you’d take this job. You see, I have umpteen calls to make for the reunion committee and I’d already promised Paige I’d teach her Chickadee group how to make pine cone Santas tonight.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You want me to serve cake to a bunch of professors?” Rebecca asked, picturing her usually glib tongue tied in self-conscious knots. The thought of so many graduate degrees under one roof was beyond intimidating when she thought of the simple high school diploma she almost didn’t receive.

“You’ll have the undying gratitude of my five-yearold.”

“Guilt can move mountains, Megan, but I don’t know…”

“Reb, just think, you’ll have the opportunity to impress Raleigh Hanlon…with all your clothes on this time.”

An hour later Rebecca stood at Raleigh Hanlon’s back door with his jacket around her shoulders. She was hugging a huge poinsettia plant to one hip and holding a shopping bag in her left hand. With her right she tinkered with the black bow tie her friend insisted had to be worn with the official Piece Of Cake caterer’s uniform. The slender grosgrain ribbon wrapping primly around the starched stand-up collar of the pleated tuxedo shirt was the last thing Raleigh Hanlon would expect to see her wearing. She looked down at the rest of the uniform. The red plaid cummerbund and black, pleated trousers actually looked kind of cute. Cute? She winced. She was about to walk into Show-No-Mercy Hanlon’s house looking cute. “Reb Barnett,” she whispered, as she knocked on the door a second time, “if the old gang could see you now.”

A second later the door opened and, without looking up, Raleigh was waving her in. He was speaking with considerable emotion into the telephone wedged between his shoulder and chin.

Rebecca remained on the doorstep taking in the details of the man who was totally absorbed in his conversation. His burgundy-and-blue tattersall shirt was rolled up at both wrists, exposing his Swiss Army watch and his handsomely muscled forearms. Unlike her miniature bow tie, his long navy blue one draped either side of his unbuttoned shirt framing a healthy amount of dark, crinkly chest hair. As if to counterpoint the vibrant signs of his masculinity, a pair of tortoiseshell reading glasses were perched near the end of his nose. Biting back a smile, she thought about what fun she could have had with those glasses ten years ago.

“I can’t agree with you more, sweetheart,” he said as he glanced at the paper in his hands. “But, Penny, I don’t think your mother’s being unfair about your curfew. I—don’t hang up, young lady. Damn—!” He clicked off the phone and placed it firmly on the wall hook.

“Megan, I’m glad you’re here—” His harried expression changed to a blank one the moment he saw who it was. Hesitating, he strained for a look over Rebecca’s shoulder before refocusing on her uniform. “Is this one of your practical jokes?”

Jokes! Maybe this wasn’t her leather miniskirt and combat boots from ten years ago, but she wasn’t naked, either. Brushing back a lock of hair from her forehead, she swallowed hard and reminded herself that she was here to demonstrate the new and improved Rebecca Barnett. Nothing he could say would cause her to become unglued. Her gaze dropped to the opening of his shirt. As for that hairy chest of his…that might take considerably more restraint than she’d prepared for.

“I volunteered for this job when I found out Megan had made plans with her daughter,” she said, aware that that wasn’t exactly how she came to be standing on his doorstep. Lowering her gaze further down the front of him, she felt it melt into a genuine stare when she got to the dark whorl of hair above his navel. Blinking her way out of the hypnotizing sight, she made herself look at his face again. “I had to come back across town, anyway.”

Resting a fist on his hip, he lowered his chin to deliver a challenging stare over his reading glasses. “Is that so?”

She tapped her nails against the red-foiled flowerpot and narrowed her eyes. Her voice was suddenly stronger. “I live here. Remember?”

“And you’re working for Megan Sloan now?”

There it was again: that skeptical edge to his voice that said he wasn’t sure about any of this. That maybe there was more she wasn’t telling. And perhaps a trip to the principal’s office might be in order.

With a long-suffering sigh, she answered him. “Just for tonight. And you can stop sounding so concerned. I haven’t pebbled the cookies.”

He waited five thoughtful seconds before he appeared to succumb to the inevitable. Folding the sheet of paper he’d been holding, Raleigh slid it in his shirt pocket. The action managed to tug his shirt sideways, exposing a flat, dark nipple surrounded by another whorl of dark hair.

“Of course you haven’t pebbled the cookies, but Megan knows exactly how I like these things done. Not too formal—”

“She explained everything to me. So if you’ll get those desserts and the containers from the van,” she said, whipping his jacket from her shoulders and shoving it against his naked midsection, “I’ll get started.”

Closing a hand over the bunched tweed, he gave her a stiff nod. “Dining room’s through that door over there.”

Even though she’d managed to cover the tempting sight of his well-muscled, hair-roughened chest and abdomen, achy heat was already pooling between her thighs. Making an effort to appear unfazed, she breezed by him into the dining room.

“You are not going to get to me, Hanlon,” she murmured to herself as she plunked the poinsettia on the credenza and pulled a tablecloth out of the shopping bag. Giving the rectangle of white damask a snapping shake, she spread it over the table, then began smoothing it into place. “So what if you happen to have mankind’s most gorgeous chest and nipples that make my fingers itch? The idea of you and me ever…it’s…just impossible,” she said to herself in an angry whisper.

But as she kept picturing his exposed chest, her efficient moves to straighten the cloth slowed then stopped. Tilting her head, she stared at the white-on-white design in the tablecloth. The soft, lustrous swirls reminded her of the patterns in his chest hair. Tracing one swirl and then another with the pads of her thumbs, she began imagining the rougher texture of his hair, the heat of his skin below and the steady thumps of his heartbeat. When she realized she was holding her breath, she drummed both sets of fingers against the cloth and shook her head. She really had to start dating again now that her tour business was doing so well. Pushing up from the table, she reached for the potted red flowers and plunked them on the center.

With more determined effort, she went looking for dessert plates. While she was kneeling beside the opened credenza door, Raleigh came into the room.

“I put everything but this in the kitchen,” he said over the cake box. “Finding everything you need in there?”

“I think so,” she said, stopping to watch him settle a cake box on the table. In an unguarded moment he lifted the lid and leaned down for a quick sniff. Closing his eyes, he took a longer one. His obvious pleasure mesmerized her, then quickly made her blink. Of course, everyone had a sensual side, she’d just never thought about him having one.

Biting back a smile, she reached inside the credenza. “Megan said the dessert plates are supposed to be in here, but all I keep pulling out are these old photo albums.”

Raleigh dropped the lid over the cake, then quickly kneeled beside her. “I’ll take those,” he said, removing them from her grasp and setting them out of her reach.

Before she had time to lower her hands, he was ducking his head near her lap to peer inside the credenza. Her heart skipped a beat and then another. Minutes ago she wasn’t sure he was going to allow her into his house; now he’d positioned his face inches from the most intimate part of her anatomy. His clean male scent, mixed with his light, woodsy after-shave only added to the stunning immediacy of the moment. She held her breath as visions of them tangled together on the floor moved through her mind. In this position it would be so easy to sink her fingers into his hair and…