Wilde for You

“This is killing me, Cricket,” he whispered

He put his other hand to her cheek, cupping her face in both hands now.

You mean the you-know?” she asked.

“Yes,” Tucker said, tilting his head. “We can’t do this.” He moved in.

“No, we can’t,” she said, standing on her toes, tipping up her mouth. It was as if some terrific force field pulled them together.

“This would be bad.”

“I know,” she said, moving closer. “Very bad.” As desperate as she was for his mouth, for that hot, dissolving feeling, she would not be the one who kissed first. She couldn’t be. He was married. Unhappily, according to his wife, but still. He had to be the one to make the first move.

He wouldn’t do it, she saw.

But she definitely would. With that thought, she grabbed his face and pulled his lips to hers.

Dear Reader,

Cricket and Tucker’s story is dear to me because it’s set in a school. As a former teacher, I felt as though I was living and breathing Copper Corners High on every page I wrote. I even started to have teacher anxiety dreams—you know, where it’s the end of the year and you realize you’ve forgotten to teach reading to your second graders? Needless to say, I related to Cricket’s idealism and her insecurity about teaching, which is a very difficult job.

What I love about Cricket and Tucker is how much they want to do the right thing, even when they are doing it all wrong. Ever been there? Had good intentions, but fouled up anyway? For these two, the issue is being honest with themselves about who they are and what they really want. They have so much heart and so much passion for each other and their work. Just thinking about them makes me sigh. These two really got to me. I hold their story close to my heart. I hope they get to you, too.

I’d love to hear from you! Write me at [e-mail]. For news of upcoming books, please drop by my Web site, www.dawnatkins.com.

My very best to you,

Dawn Atkins

Books by Dawn Atkins

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

871—THE COWBOY FLING

895—LIPSTICK ON HIS COLLAR

945—ROOM…BUT NOT BORED!

HARLEQUIN BLAZE

93—FRIENDLY PERSUASION

HARLEQUIN DUETS

77—ANCHOR THAT MAN!

91—WEDDING FOR ONE/TATTOO FOR TWO

HARLEQUIN FLIPSIDE

11—A PERFECT LIFE?

Wilde for You

Dawn Atkins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To the dedicated teachers of Arizona, who daily make a difference. You humble me.

Acknowledgments

I wish to thank Jenn MacColl, whose rain-forest classroom inspired me to write Cricket’s story. Jenn, an accomplished teacher, shares Cricket’s absolute commitment to her students. Jenn, my son and I thank you. I also want to thank all the teachers in my life—past and present. You do indeed touch the future. The endangered-owl controversy in this book is fictional, although pygmy owls are, in fact, endangered and live only in southern Arizona and northern Mexico.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

1

IF HE GOT THE JOB, he’d forget women, Tucker Manning vowed, soaping up in the shower. He would be absolutely dedicated. Completely committed. No distractions. No hobbies. No sidetracks.

And no women.

He scrubbed his face, then shoved it under the spray to rinse. Steam rose around him, hot as his conviction.

He needed this job—assistant principal at Copper Corners High—if he was ever to get the one he’d lost.

Lost because of a moment of insanity with a woman who reminded him of someone he couldn’t forget. A moment witnessed by three members of the freshman girls’ volleyball team, who’d stumbled on him and Melissa in the equipment room…on the vault bench…working out…of their clothes.

Who knew the girls practiced so late?

So, if he got this job, no more women. He scrubbed between his toes, hot water peppering his back, the shower air lush and thick as a jungle.

“Tuuuuck-er, I’m lonely,” Julie, the woman he’d been seeing for the last month, called to him. He sighed, letting the water sluice down his body. Okay, maybe one more woman. Except she lived here—Phoenix—over two hours away from Copper Corners, which was barely a cactus clump off the highway south of Tucson. If he was truly dedicated, he’d have no time for road trips. Or Julie.

He’d stay nose to the grindstone. Just for the two or three years he had to wait for another chance at the position at Western Sun High, when the guy who’d gotten the job retired.

He needed that time to prove to Ben Alton, the principal and his friend, that he had what it took to be a good administrator. An administrator who knew how to keep his head on straight…and his zipper zipped.

The turndown still stung. Tucker hated to lose, but, worse, he’d let Ben down—disappointed the man who’d turned him around back when Tuck was in high school.

The whole reason Tucker had come back to Western Sun with his English degree from the University of Arizona was to work for Ben, who’d become the principal and been given the difficult task of guiding the school through the growing pains that came with a changing neighborhood. Once on the faculty, Tucker had started on his administrator credential, so he could work side by side with his mentor.

For the three years he’d been at Western Sun, he’d been busy—volunteering for curriculum committees, serving as English department chair and as a union rep—and he was liked by students and faculty alike.

But at the end of the interview for the vice principal job, Ben had told him no. Your heart’s in the right place, Tuck. Folks like you, but they don’t think you take the work seriously. You’re young.

He’d been stunned. He’d argued—pointed out all he’d accomplished and that age was irrelevant to talent—until the truth had dawned on him that it was the thing with Melissa.

That didn’t help, Ben had admitted. And I’d be playing favorites to hire you in spite of it.

Tuck had assured him it was a one-time occurrence, despite the gossip. I have not, quote, been with every female I could get into an empty closet. Melissa was special…and I was just…we were only…okay, it was a bad idea, but it was after hours and we had our clothes on.

Though belts and zippers had been in motion when the three volleyballers bounded into the room to gape and gasp at Tucker and Melissa putting the horse vault bench to uses for which it was never intended.

The one good thing was that Melissa had been more amused than embarrassed by the incident, for which he’d taken full responsibility.

Tuck understood Ben’s decision, disappointed though he was. The top job for an assistant principal was student discipline, so being respected was crucial. The make-out incident had made him the butt of too many jokes for much respect to remain.

Ben had put in a good word for him with Harvey Winfield, the principal at Copper Corners High—a friend of a friend from Ben’s Ph.D. program. A small school would be great experience, Ben claimed, since the principal and the assistant shared most duties, instead of having distinct tasks like at Western Sun, where Ben had two assistants, each with different responsibilities.

After Tuck had a few good years at Copper Corners, some accomplishments and professional maturity to tout, Ben would feel comfortable hiring him. And Tucker wanted that. Bad. Because of Ben, of course. And because he’d be damned if he’d be chased out by one mistake and the rumor mill. He’d be back. No question.

And the road back ran straight through Copper Corners, Arizona.

Tucker ran the scrubber over his back, then turned to take in a mouthful of water to gargle and spit.

The interview had gone well, and he’d liked Harvey, who reminded him of his own grandfather—quiet and old-fashioned. Gruff, but with a big heart.

He leaned forward, fingers flat on the black-and-white checkered tile, water falling over his head and neck, and remembered Ben’s final comment. If you get the job, behave yourself, he’d said, as if Tuck were an errant child. There are no secrets in a small town. You buy a pack of condoms and everyone will know whether they’re ribbed or smooth.

That wasn’t fair. The incident with Melissa had been unusual. She’d reminded him of a girl he’d had a major thing for in college—Cricket. Cricket what? He didn’t even know her last name. She’d been Sylvia’s roommate. One night senior year, right before Christmas break, while he’d waited for Sylvia to show up at her apartment, he and Cricket had shared a beer, an intense conversation and, once it became clear Sylvia had stood him up, the hottest make-out session he’d experienced. Ever, now that he thought about it.

Melissa had the same kind of fire and attitude as Cricket. She kind of smelled like her, too—sweet and spicy and all woman—and when she came on to him after a curriculum meeting, he’d lost his head. And, as a result, the job he was meant for.

He’d known better, too. He’d been wild in high school and from time to time fought the urge to just blow off responsibility, go with his impulses and play 24/7. Maybe that had shown in his work at Western Sun. He’d had fun with his students, but that didn’t mean he didn’t take teaching seriously. Worse, he had the uncomfortable sense that Ben was among those who thought he wasn’t serious enough to be a good administrator.

They had him wrong, dammit, Tuck thought, smearing green shampoo into his hair and scrubbing hard. And twenty-six was plenty old enough to know what mattered.

If he got the Copper Corners job, he’d watch his every step. The best way to handle temptation was to avoid it, and he was sure Copper Corners would offer few distractions. Rural towns had trouble attracting teachers anyway, and young, single people gravitated to cities for the social life.

He scrubbed his hair, wondering if Harvey Winfield had liked him as much as he’d seemed to. There were other candidates for the job, he knew, but they couldn’t possibly want it as much as Tuck did.

“Tucker!” Julie yelled from the bedroom.

He tipped his head back and shouted upward, “I’ll be right out.”

Seconds later, though, the shower door opened and a naked Julie held one hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. God, she was gorgeous. He’d pull her into the water for a wet adventure after this call….

“It’s the principal at that school,” she whispered, grinning. “I told him how excited you were about the job.”

He took the phone. “Harvey?” he said, hopping out of the stall to clutch a towel to his groin. The man couldn’t see through the phone, but Tuck felt damned unprofessional standing there naked. “Good to hear from—”

The shampoo-slick phone slipped out of his hand and hit the floor. Julie bent for it and thrust it at him in time for him to hear Harvey say, “…but after speaking to Julie just now, I’ve decided to go with my instincts.”

“What was that?” he said. “I dropped the phone.”

“What I said was that I called to ask a few follow-up questions in case my top candidates declined, but after speaking to Julie I changed my mind. Will you take the job, Tucker? I have a good feeling about you.”

“I’d be honored,” he said quickly.

Julie gave him a thumbs-up and did a silent happy dance, naked and gorgeous, then mouthed, “Breakfast,” and bounced out of the room.

He’d gotten the job. Thank God. Except he hadn’t been first choice. Not until Julie said something that changed Harvey’s mind. What the hell had she said?

“I’m glad to hear that, Tucker,” Harvey said. “I had two fellows with more experience in line—both with excellent references and both from small towns, which is a definite advantage. But knowing that you’re married—and to such a supportive woman—I felt comfortable going with my gut reaction…which was to hire you. You’re hungry. You’re smart. You’re serious.”

“Knowing that I’m…what?” At that moment, a blob of shampoo dropped into Tucker’s eye. Blinking against the sting, he braced the phone with his shoulder and wiped at the shampoo with his hand, but that made it burn worse.

“It’s not kosher to ask in the interview, of course,” Harvey was saying while Tucker lunged for the sink. The man thought Julie was his wife? How had that happened? Julie had answered the phone at seven-thirty in the morning, for one thing, and raved about him, so of course Harvey had assumed…

“Sure,” Tucker said, splashing water into his eye, “but I’m afraid Julie isn’t—” The phone slipped out of his fingers again. He grabbed it up, his eyes still burning, in time to hear Harvey say, “—just so very important, Tucker. My last assistant—a single guy—was more interested in the Tucson nightlife than in school business. So it just didn’t work out.”

“I can understand that,” he said, fumbling for a towel, one eye closed, “but, you see, I’m not really—”

Married. I’m not married. That was what he intended to say, except his heel skidded on wet tile and he hit the floor with a smack, the butt pain much worse than the eye burn.

“Tucker? You there?” Harvey said. “What were you saying?”

“I’m here. Just lost my balance.” And all sense of reality. “I was saying that I’m not really….”

Through his pain, a vital fact came into his mind: Harvey had better candidates. Two of them. Both more experienced, both from small towns, both married. And politically correct or not, Harvey wanted a married assistant. Being married to a supportive wife was what had gotten Tuck the job offer.

“It’s that I’m not…” Tucker had to say something about being a dedicated single guy, but the specter of the Melissa incident rose in his mind. Would Harvey think he was a player? Women hopping in and out of his bed all the time? He wanted to start out on the right foot. This wasn’t the way.

“…sure about the housing situation,” he heard himself finish, buying time.

“Plenty of rental homes, Tucker. Bring Julie down this weekend and you can find something. I know you see yourself back in Phoenix eventually, but our little town is pretty special. Great place to raise a family, too.”

Every second that passed without Tucker correcting the mistake made things worse, he knew, but Harvey was on a roll. “Around here, neighbors help each other. And get in each other’s business, of course, but that’s two sides of a valuable coin.”

The connection went dead for a second.

“There’s that damnable click,” Harvey said. “This call-waiting business my wife got us into is quite the annoyance. I’d better see who it is. Put the back-to-school faculty potluck on your calendar. In the gym on the first, 6:30 p.m. Looking forward to meeting Julie.”

“Thanks, Harvey, but I—”

“Welcome on board, Tucker.” And he hung up.

Tuck turned off his phone and sat there on the floor, his back against the tile, his butt aching, his eye running with tears. Now what?

“LET ME GET THIS straight,” Tuck’s sister-in-law Anna said to him that evening. “You told the principal you were married?”

“No. He assumed it when Julie answered the phone and told him how excited I was about the job. She was trying to be helpful.”

Tucker had tried to call Harvey back, as soon as he’d gotten off the floor and tracked down the Winfield number, but had only been connected to voice mail. For hours. He wasn’t about to leave an “April fool! I’m not really married” message on the answering machine. In the meantime, he wanted his brother and sister-in-law’s take on what had happened. Plus, he needed a dose of his three-year-old nephews, Steven and Stewart, who never failed to cheer him up.

“We’re buck nek-ked,” Steven chortled, jumping off the ottoman. The boys were fresh from their bath and, in theory, headed for bed.

“Get over here, you slippery seal,” Anna said, lunging at Steven. She held Stewart by one arm. “Grab him, Forest.”

“You’re mine, bucko.” Tuck’s brother Forest scooped up the bath-pink elf who was older than his twin by ten minutes. Tuck loved the hurly-burly at Forest and Anna’s. He loved roughhousing with his nephews, and in a minute, he’d get the privilege of reading them their bedtime story.

With Stewart in a football hold, Anna plopped onto the sofa beside Tuck. “So, why didn’t you correct him?”

“I tried, but he kept talking. I’d fallen on my ass and was in pain with shampoo in my eyes. Hell, he offered me the job because he thought I was married. I was trying to figure out what to say when he had to take a call and hung up.”

“So, call him back,” Anna said, managing to get Stewart’s squirming leg into one side of his pajama bottoms.

“I tried. Voice mail. Now I’ll sound like an idiot. ‘Oh, gee, I forgot I wasn’t married.’”

“Tell him that when you fell, you hit your head and got temporary amnesia, but now you remember that you’re actually a babe hound.”

“I’m no babe hound.”

“What’s the big deal about being married anyway? He better not discriminate against single people. That’s an EEOC violation if I ever heard one.”

“He’s worried that a single guy would be bored in Copper Corners. The assistant before me spent too much time chasing women, I guess. Winfield wants someone who’ll focus on work, not women.”

“How ’bout both? Isn’t that your specialty? Having sex at work. Much more efficient.”

He groaned. He regretted telling Anna and Forest about the Melissa incident more every time Anna brought it up, which was every time he came over, which was often. He loved his sister-in-law, but she was mouthy and opinionated and bossy as hell. His brother worshiped her, though, and that was what mattered.

“I even asked Julie if she’d consider a trip to Vegas…you know, take in a show, do some gambling, swing by a wedding chapel.”

Anna stopped, leaving Stewart covered by his pajama top like a superhero-decorated ghost. “You’re serious about Julie?” She blinked at him, mouth open, visions of wedding plans glowing in her eyes.

“No. I was joking, though it panicked the hell out of her and now we’re pretty much over with.”

Anna sighed. “I knew it. You’ll never settle down.”

“Where’s Stewart? Where can he be?” Stewart’s muffled voice came from beneath his clothes.

Anna tugged downward on her son’s shirt so his head popped out.

“Peekaboo!” he shrieked.

“Peekaboo, sweetie,” she said halfheartedly.

“Sure I will,” Tuck insisted. “When I’m ready.”

“When the moon is blue and my aunt’s an acrobat.”

“When I find the right woman.”

“You wouldn’t know the right woman if she had your name tattooed in a heart on her butt.”

“You said butt, Mommy. Umm.”

“Special occasion,” Anna said.

Forest leaned down to drop his damp cargo next to Anna to be dressed. “Don’t be so hard on him, Anna. Women as great as you don’t grow on trees.” Forest kissed his wife and their eyes met with warmth.

They were good together. They’d married young—nineteen—and Tuck had feared Forest was scrambling to find something stable after their parents’ divorce, but Anna turned out to be perfect for him. In fact, Tucker hoped one day to have the kind of relationship Forest had with his wife—an easy affection, mutual respect and lots of laughter, all built on a bedrock of love.

Except Tucker wanted a woman more like himself than Anna was like Forest. Someone more cooperative, more of a partner, who wouldn’t argue every issue into the ground like Anna did with Forest.

Once he was back in Phoenix and got his career on track at Western Sun, Tucker would look for someone. He’d be ready then.

“So, now what are you going to do?” Anna said to Tuck. “Tell the principal that you got a divorce?”

“Tell him it was a mistake, I guess. But why would I lie like that? I’ll seem creepy, crazy or lame.”

“What you need is a substitute wife,” Forest said, putting the freshly dressed Stewart on his shoulders and galloping around the sofa while Stewart shrieked with laughter.

“Sure. I’ll just call ‘Rent-a-Wife.’”

“You can’t afford that,” Forest said, lowering Stewart onto the sofa and lifting Steven up for his turn. “Hookers are pricey and housekeepers have skills. Maybe get one of those inflatable women. Prop her in a chair, backlight her and throw your voice like Norman Bates in Psycho.”

“That’s grotesque,” Anna said. “And don’t get the boys so riled up before bed.”

Forest shortened Steven’s turn and lowered him to the floor. “Go get books for Uncle Tuck,” he said. The twins scampered off, squealing.

“On the other hand, I could say my wife is away taking care of a sick relative…in Australia maybe?” Tucker said.

“Or she could have a job where she travels a lot,” Anna mused. “Like in sales. Or maybe with the airlines.”

“A stewardess?” Forest asked, sitting beside Anna. “That’d be hot.”

“That’s flight attendant, not stewardess, you sexist pig,” Anna said. “And let’s make her a pilot. More impressive.”

“That could work—faking a wife, I mean,” Forest said. “Hey, you could borrow my old wedding band.”

“Your old wedding band?”

“We thought he lost it down the sink,” Anna said, elbowing her husband, who grimaced in pretend pain. “So we bought a new one. Then I found it behind the bathroom sink faucet. If Mr. Fidget here wouldn’t take off his ring every time he washes his hands.”

“You want me to get a rash? I don’t need a ring to feel married,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I’m yours forever.”

“Read to us, Unca Tuck! Read to us!” Steven shouted, dragging a book bigger than he was along the carpet. Stewart hopped beside him—a one-man cheering squad.

“Go play for a few minutes, guys,” Anna said. “Your mommy and daddy have to straighten Uncle Tuck out.”

“Uh-oh,” Stewart said, staring at Tuck with round eyes. “Were you berry bad?”

“Kinda bad,” he said.

“You have to make good chooses, Unca Tuck,” he said somberly. After a sympathetic once-over, the boys turned and galloped off, happy with the extra playtime.

“So, you think I can fake a wife? Except I told Harvey she’d be at the opening-of-school potluck.”

“So get someone to stand in,” Anna said. “You pissed Julie off, but maybe someone else?”

“Someone else named Julie?”

“Or someone who’d pretend to be her…” Forest said slowly. “I’ve got it.” He leaned across the couch to pick up a framed photo from the end table and turned it toward them. It was a shot of Tucker with his arm around Anna on the terrace of the Del Coronado near San Diego, where they’d all gone for vacation last year.

“You’d be perfect,” Forest said to Anna. “You know Tuck and you want the best for him.”

“No,” Tucker said. “That would be crazy.”

“Not necessarily,” Anna said. “I could go to the potluck and impress everyone.”