The Mistresses

“I wish I could.”

She sank down in her chair and gestured for Jose to come farther into the room. “I think we’re going to need fifty thousand to make it until the end of the school year.”

“That’s a lot of car washes,” she said. The school had never held many fundraisers. They had a golf tournament every year in the fall to raise funds. But parents and alumni had already contributed to that.

“The kids are willing to participate to some extent, but the one thing we haven’t slipped on is our academic excellence.”

She understood what Jose was saying. If they asked the students to start participating in a variety of fundraising activities, it would distract them from their studies.

“I have a meeting tomorrow morning with Sue-Ellen. I think the parents will be a great resource for this. Jose, will you please call our alumni president and see if he’s available tomorrow at ten?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks,” she said. As Jose got up and left her office, she sank back into the chair. The next few months were going to be difficult. And she had to find that story she’d printed out.

She didn’t need the additional worry that a student would find it. Or worse, Sue-Ellen or Malcolm.

Oh, no. What if Adam had found it?

Was that why he’d taken her to lunch and said he’d help her with the school? Was he setting her up for a private meeting where he’d tell Malcolm about the story and fire her?

She had no time to dwell on that possibility as she spent the afternoon meeting with individual board members. Meetings that Adam had set up for her. The support she garnered was worth the time she spent with them.

The afternoon went by quickly. She had a small break and searched every inch of her office but couldn’t find her story. Jose e-mailed her his ideas for their fund shortage, and they were all really good.

“Grace, Dawn O’Shea called while you were in a meeting. She wants to talk to you about possibly getting her job back.” Bruce hovered in her doorway uncertainly.

“I can’t talk to her today,” Grace said. She felt sorry for Dawn, losing her job and her husband. But Dawn’s actions had greatly hurt the school, and saving Tremmel-Bowen was Grace’s priority.

“I told her you’d call next week.”

“Thanks.”

Bruce left at six. Grace researched fundraising ideas on the Internet and sent a few links to Jose and Sue-Ellen. She glanced up from her computer at seven-thirty when she heard voices in the outer office. Her head ached at the thought of how much work she still had to do.

The missing story scared her. It had the potential to put all the work she’d done today to save the school to waste. At least she hadn’t put her real name on it as the author. But the characters’ names—Adam and Grace—were pretty damning. She’d have to change those before she submitted it anywhere. If she submitted it.

She knew her assistant would rush back to help her if she called him. But she didn’t exactly want Bruce searching her office for that file folder.

“Grace? Got a minute?”

Adam stood in her doorway with Malcolm just behind him. The smile of welcome froze on her face as she noted the file folder held loosely in his hands.

The sinking feeling in her stomach grew as she waited for Malcolm or Adam to speak. She was a nervous wreck and she hated that. This was her domain. The one place in the world that she’d found where she really fit.

“Good evening, gentlemen.”

“Ms. Stephens, do you have time to discuss your financial plan with me now?” Malcolm asked.

She wanted to say no. But she wasn’t going to turn away from the olive branch that Malcolm offered. All day long she’d heard from other board members that the decision to keep the school open had to be unanimous, so if Malcolm wasn’t on board by the end of the school year, Tremmel-Bowen would be closed.

“Sure. I was just about to order some dinner, can I get something for you both?”

“We won’t be that long. We can go down to the conference room so we’ll have more room.”

Grace followed Malcolm down the hall. She empathized with him. She would want to shut down the school as well if she were in Malcolm’s shoes. Betrayal. It was one thing she understood better than most.

Adam dropped behind to speak to the night-maintenance supervisor and Grace found herself alone with Malcolm. She explained the shortage error they’d just found and then spent forty-five minutes arguing over the tiniest details in the budget. Grace was careful to keep her temper, but she was beginning to believe it was going to be impossible to convince Malcolm to give the school a reprieve.

In the back of her mind was the fear that all the work that she and Adam had done today would be undone by her story surfacing somewhere. She thought of all the people who’d been in and out of her office throughout the day. She’d had the student council representatives in there and, to be honest, she would be even more horrified if one of them had found the folder than if Adam had.

“Ms. Stephens, if you aren’t going to pay attention you’re just wasting our time.”

“I am paying attention. I don’t see this as a waste of time.”

“I do,” he said. She felt the noose tighten and realized that Malcolm might have given in until the end of semester but beyond that he wasn’t vested in seeing the school survive.

She reached across the table and touched the back of his hand. He glanced up at her. “Yes?”

“What can I say to you?”

He didn’t pretend not to understand her. “Nothing. I’m sorry, Grace. I have a lot of respect for you personally but I can’t get around the fact that this school needs to be closed.”

“You know that knot you have in the pit of your stomach?” she asked, waiting only for his nod.

“That’s what you are going to give to the kids. Some of them don’t make friends easily. Some of them have their whole life planned with this school, with this education. And no matter that we’re in the red financially or that we’ve had an unfortunate scandal—educationally, we’re still top-rated.”

“And your point is?”

“That we’ll be betraying the trust those students put in this institution. And I know that someone who understands betrayal wouldn’t want to do that to anyone, especially not teenagers who are already struggling just to grow up.”

Malcolm leaned back in his chair, studying her with an impenetrable gaze. He gathered his papers and put them into his briefcase. “You make a good point, Grace. And I’ll consider what you’ve said until the end of the semester when the board meets again.”

She said nothing as the older man left her alone in the boardroom. But she knew she’d scored a victory. A temporary one, a small battle, but still she’d convinced him to give her until the end of the school year to make some significant changes.

And if she didn’t find her file folder, it could all be for nothing.

She frowned, thinking of what she had to accomplish. The short time frame she had to accomplish it made her want to scream.

Someone brushed her fingers aside and she glanced over her shoulder to see Adam standing there.

He massaged her shoulders and the tension of the day started to recede. Not totally of course. “Malcolm mentioned he was giving you until the end of the semester to prove the school should be left open.”

“Yes, he agreed to that. Thank you, Adam. For arranging all those meetings and for standing behind me. I don’t think the board would have given me a chance without that.”

She tried to keep her mind on the school. It was the most important thing in her life. But a part of her stared up at Adam and wondered if he’d somehow found the seeds to shut down her school anyway. If he was toying with her because … why? From what she’d seen of him, he wasn’t a cruel man.

“No problem. Everyone agrees that if anyone can turn the school around it’s you,” he said.

“Why do they believe that?” she asked, hating the weakness that question revealed. But tonight, she was a little overwhelmed. Maybe she’d bitten off more than she could chew. Maybe she should have taken the out the board had given her. She could have walked away from the school with a nice recommendation and gotten another job.

“Because you have this inner strength that makes everyone around you realize that you won’t settle for anything other than excellence.”

She wished she felt that what he’d said was true. But inside she feared she was a fraud. That the fear of having to look for another job, the fear of having to go to some new place and try to fit in had in large part motivated her to save Tremmel-Bowen.

“I’m not that woman,” she said.

“Yes, you are,” Adam said, using his hands on her shoulders to turn her around and draw her to her feet.

“I don’t feel like it.”

“You will tomorrow.”

“What’s going to change between now and then?”

“I’m going to make you dinner and convince you of the faith I have in you.”

“We can’t. I thought about it this afternoon, you know we can’t have dinner together.”

“We both have to eat,” he said.

She shook her head. If she wanted to save the school, she needed to stay focused on the school and not let Adam distract her. “Our being seen together is too risky. I don’t want to chance it.”

“Dinner isn’t a torrid affair.”

“I know that.”

“How about if I cook for you?”

“You can cook?”

He quirked one eyebrow at her and gave her a half smile that she felt all the way to her toes. “Yes, ma’am.”

She gave her unspoken consent by following him out the door. Already she felt lighter, not as tired, just at the thought of spending more time with him. Adam really was a one-of-a-kind guy. The kind of man worthy of a woman who wasn’t always pretending to be someone she wasn’t.

Her secrets felt like a heavy burden. And Adam might actually be privy to one that she wanted to keep very private. Going to dinner at his house would give her an opportunity to fish around and see if he’d found “Adam’s Mistress” on her desk.

Four

She knew she should tell him to leave, that her job was at stake, but she couldn’t give up the chance to be with him. To know him intimately. She caressed his chest, lingering over the well-developed pectorals.

His muscle jumped under her touch. She scraped her nail down the center line of his body. Following the fine dusting of hair that narrowed and disappeared into the waistband of his pants.

“Don’t go,” she said softly.

Excerpt from “Adam’s Mistress” by Stephanie Grace

Adam enjoyed cooking because so many people expected him not to know how to do it. Like he was nothing more than a stereotype instead of a real person. He’d been on his own for the better part of the last fifteen years and survival demanded that he at least make an effort to learn how to feed himself.

He’d employed his parents’ staff for the first five years after his parents’ death, but when he learned the truth of his family’s secret he felt like a fraud and couldn’t in good faith continue to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. One of the hardest things he’d had to do was let go of the staff. But if Molly and Hubert Johnson were working for him he wasn’t going to learn to stand on his own, so he’d asked them both what they wanted to do. Molly had always longed to open a small craft store in her hometown and Adam had helped her do that. Hubert had been happy to move back home with his wife and work in the shop.

Slowly Adam had started learning what he needed to do to carve a life for himself. A life that he was in control of.

Grace wasn’t one of those women who made false assumptions about him. She’d taken one look at the state of the art kitchen and understood that he would know his way around a good pot roast.

“I guess you really can cook,” she said, a wry grin lighting her face.

“Yes.”

“Most guys consider dinner throwing something on the grill or heating up rice in the microwave.”

He wanted to groan. “A man offered to cook for you and then made microwave rice?”

She laughed but the tension didn’t really ease from her face. She was still nervous and tense. Still unsure of something.

Him, he suspected. The situation that he was engineering to hopefully get her comfortable enough that she’d share the secrets hidden behind those shadowed eyes.

“No. My dad used to make rice for us for dinner whenever there was nothing else to eat.”

“Where was your mom?”

She fidgeted with the stem of her wineglass and he realized he’d probed past the bounds of what was polite conversation and gone straight into that forbidden territory marked personal. A place that it was obvious she wasn’t ready to go.

“This is a really nice house. I can’t believe how big all the houses are in this area.”

Actually, the house was rather modest for the neighborhood, only 4,000 square feet. Certainly small compared to other properties he had around the world. But he’d liked the soaring windows and the large deck outside was a terrific place to work on the laptop on nice days. Well, it would be if he were ever here long enough to enjoy it.

Since the Johnsons had gone, he had a cleaning service come in periodically to check on things and dust. He’d had them stock the kitchen before he’d arrived. He might have to have them in more often if he truly was going to stay in Plano for the next six months.

“Where do you live?” he asked, because every detail about her life was becoming important to him. He’d certainly be happier discussing her and her life. Maybe get her to confess she’d always been attracted to him and had written a sexy little story about the two of them.

“Not so far from the school. My subdivision is a few years old. It’s a good thing I moved there when it was first built. I don’t think I could afford to buy there now.”

“What do you like about where you live?”

She took a sip of her wine. He finished putting the tomatoes and onions on the salmon and wrapped them in foil before putting them in the oven. He checked the boiling water and dumped in the couscous and then turned back to her. She was staring at him.

“What?”

“I thought you were faking it. That you were going to pretend to know how to cook, but then when I turned my back you’d be pulling ready-made meals from the freezer.”

“No matter what else you believe about me, Grace, know that I never lie.”

“Never? What if I asked you if this suit looked nice on me?”

“I would say that the color is good with your skin tone but that the cut isn’t flattering.”

She arched one eyebrow at him. “What if you get pulled over for a speeding ticket?”

“Not even then. I just don’t see the point in making up a story.”

“Even when you’re starting a relationship? When you want to make a good impression?”

He shook his head. “That would set a tone for the relationship that I think I can fool the other person and I don’t like it.”

“Did someone lie to you?”

Deep inside the icy part of his soul where he hid the truth of what he was, he cringed. Lies were the very foundation his life had been built on and he hadn’t even realized that until he was twenty-five. At that age when most people were coming to terms with their past, he’d learned his was a sham. “That’s in the same closet that you closed the door on.”

“What closet? When did I close that door?”

“The one marked personal. You closed it when you changed the subject from your mother.”

“Oh. If I tell you about her …”

“I’m not trying to make a deal with you. Just saying some areas aren’t meant to be trod this early in a relationship.”

There were some places he didn’t ever want to go. Digging into her secrets and finding out more about Grace was his only goal. He didn’t want her to see him in a different light.

“Are we going to have a relationship?”

“I didn’t invite the rest of the board back to my house for dinner.”

“No, you didn’t.” She set her wineglass on the counter and walked around the island so that she stood right next to him. “Why is that? Why are you suddenly noticing me as a woman and not just as a coworker?”

He realized that he’d boxed himself into a corner. “I saw a different side of you today. I was—I am—intrigued.” That was the truth.

“Desperate and willing to do anything to save the school—no wonder you’re interested in me.”

He laughed because he could tell she wanted to lighten the moment, but inside he knew that he shouldn’t seduce her until she revealed the truth. Until she acknowledged that she’d been attracted to him for a long time.

“I don’t see you as desperate.”

“Well, I was. And you are turning out to be a very nice person to have in my corner.”

Thinking of why he’d invited her over, he knew he wasn’t nice. “No one would ever call me nice.”

“I would, Adam. I know you don’t see it that way, but taking a chance on me and the school … it was a very kind thing you did. And I really appreciate it.”

“I don’t want your appreciation.”

“No?”

He shook his head, closing the distance between them and drawing her into his arms. He lowered his head, brushing his lips over hers. He told himself that he was just telling her the truth with his body because he still couldn’t reveal it with his words, but he knew that something else was going on here. For the first time since he was twenty-five, he wanted to pull a woman into his arms and keep her there forever.

For a man who liked living a solitary life, that was a scary thought.

Grace rose on her tiptoes to meet Adam’s mouth. She snaked her arms around his waist and held on to him, afraid to wake from the dream that he’d enveloped her in. For some reason, Adam Bowen was suddenly paying attention to her and she didn’t want to let him go.

The worries she’d carried for the last ten days faded to the back of her mind. He opened his mouth and she knew he’d said something but for the life of her she couldn’t hear him over the roaring in her ears. She kept her eyes open as he moved closer to her.

“Grace?”

“Hmm?”

“Last chance …”

She realized he was telling her to pull back but she couldn’t. He was her fantasy and after the long stressful day she’d had, she wanted—no, needed—to put her needs first. She’d wanted to kiss Adam since the first moment they’d met.

His lips brushed over hers. Adam Bowen was kissing her. He tasted way better than she’d imagined he would. He kept his touch light, his tongue tracing the seam between her lips. She let her eyes drift closed and knew that she’d made a choice that was going to change the nice safe world she’d created for herself.

The timer on the oven beeped and he pulled back. Reluctantly. He directed her toward the dining room and she went in by herself, knowing she needed to collect her thoughts and find her center.

What if he was toying with her? One other time, she’d believed in a man and he’d disappointed her badly. She didn’t want to be a fool again, but Adam had always seemed different to her.

The dining room was ultra-formal, decorated in dark wood and antiques. This was the kind of showplace house her father would have eyed with a fanatical gleam, sure the owner had plenty of spare cash to donate to the church. The kind of place she’d never have been invited into as a child.

She heard Adam’s footsteps behind her and turned as he entered the room. He set the plates on the table and held out a chair for her. Once seated she muttered a quick prayer of thanks under her breath.

Then glanced up in time to see him take his seat. The meal was delicious and she wanted to keep the conversation light. To remind herself that no matter what Adam intimated, this wasn’t the beginning of a personal relationship.

But she wanted to know more about him. She wanted to find out why he had a thing about lying. Most people paid lip service to believing in that, but in real life often rattled off falsehoods without a second thought.

She should just ask him straight out if he’d seen the story in her office and maybe picked it up. But she’d be so embarrassed if she had to explain about it. What if it wasn’t Adam? Jose, Bruce and other staffers went in and out of her office all the time. Even students and other teachers had access.

For just one night, she wanted to see the real man so that when she got home after this strange day was over, she could write down her impressions of him. The way his hand had felt on hers. The way his lips had moved over hers. The way he’d cocked his head to the side and really listened while she talked about subjects on which no one else wanted her opinion.

Even if she never saw him again, she knew he’d given her a gift. But she would see him again. And she didn’t want to slip back into invisible mode with him. The weight of her hair against her shoulders reminded her that he already saw her in a different light.

“What were your parents like?” she asked, when they’d finished their main course and were having coffee on his deck. It overlooked the well-landscaped backyard. In the center of the yard was a large pool with a waterfall on the far end.

“Ward and June Cleaver. Are you old enough to know who they are?” he asked.

“I think everyone has seen Leave It to Beaver on Nick@Nite.”

“Very funny. My mom and dad were the perfect parents, doting, supportive, strict when they needed to be.”

“So why haven’t you settled down?” she asked. It was the one thing she’d always wondered about him. He seemed so perfect—what was stopping him from committing to one of the perfect women he dated?

“Why haven’t you?” he asked.

She swallowed hard. This was why she didn’t do close relationships. Sooner or later you had to talk about your past. Small talk only lasted so long. “I didn’t grow up with the perfect parents.”

“What kind of childhood did you have?” he asked.

It was an innocent question. She wanted to counter with a change of topic—something to turn the spotlight back on him—but she wasn’t going to, because she did want to get to know Adam better. And that thing he’d said earlier about trust had struck a nerve. Here was a man she thought she could trust.

“I don’t know. One like most kids. I think you’re the exception, Adam.” In her small town, he would have been the exception. They’d had rich kids like everywhere else, but no one who’d grown up the way Adam had. Traveling every season, going to trendy ski resorts and all-inclusive Caribbean getaways instead of riding in the backseat of a cramped car to some dreary relative’s house several hours away.

“How?” he asked, his interest genuine.

“Just that a lot of parents weren’t that supportive of kids in my neighborhood.”

“You’re from a small town, right?”

“Yes. A poor one. Most families really scrambled to make a living.”

“Yours?”

“Yes.”

“What did your folks do?”

She should never have started this conversation. How could she talk about being deprived when her father had been a preacher and had provided a nice house for her? How could she explain, without sounding like a whiner, exactly the way she’d been deprived? How could she explain what she herself never wanted to understand?

“My dad’s a preacher.”

“So you’re the rebellious preacher’s daughter?”

“No. Not a rebel. I prefer to just blend into the walls.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Well I must be doing something wrong, because you weren’t supposed to notice.”

“I didn’t until today.”

She smiled at the way he said it. Like it was an important thing. That having noticed her had made a difference to him.

Was it because of the story?

“I’ve noticed you before.”

“Really? Tell me what you observed.”

She took her time trying to figure out how to tell him what she’d seen in him without revealing how deeply she’d studied him. Now that she was here with him, she felt a little silly that she’d given him a starring role in her fantasies without really knowing the man behind the good looks.