Wilde for You

He’d also starred in some sexy dreams. Maybe because she’d been surprised by how much and how fast she’d wanted him. Major lust had hit at max speed.

Of course, he was hot, with down-slanted, bedroom eyes—George Clooney/Kyle Chandler eyes. And he had this great look—earnest and smart-ass and know-it-all. The boy next door with a Harley and a Mensa membership. Trustworthy, wicked and brilliant. A killer combo.

Plus, his voice was low and confident, with a sexual undertow that sucked her in. Also his mouth was dramatic—sculpted lips, full and so there. She’d just had to have a taste…. And wow…. But Tucker had come to his senses, completely mortified and guilty as hell. She could have told him about Sylvia and the professor, but that didn’t seem right and she’d been a little shaken up by her reaction to him.

And she still thought about him with lust. Probably because he was The Forbidden. Or maybe because after that night, he disappeared. Or maybe she had disappeared. Whatever. Absence makes the heart more horny? Or curious? Or something.

Now here he was, turning up again like a sexy penny, with that same kissable mouth and all those fabulous features and that thick, dark hair—she’d forgotten about the hair—but he was taken. Locked down. Married. She hoped the woman knew what she had.

On the other hand, he’d turned into an administrator. And not a progressive, authority-sharing one, either. A rules-are-our-friends, by-the-book administrator. He’d probably expect to see her lesson plans for the upcoming week on his desk every Friday. She watched him cross the quad. What a great backside. She was window-shopping only, of course. The man was married.

He’d sounded nervous about it, though—it has its ups and downs—fiddling with his wedding ring like he wanted to yank it off. She hoped he wasn’t unhappily married.

Anyway, enough of the sexual road not taken. She had a new career to explore and no time for good kissers with up-and-down marriages. Small towns meant flat-line on the entertain-o-meter. But that was okay. Her goal was to be the best teacher she could be and really give this career a fair test. Discarding two professions—even if one was because of a physical reflex…good point, Tuck—made her feel, well, flaky.

It was time to get serious. And teaching was it. She was pretty sure. She’d loved the summer camp. Teaching the kids how to boat and ride horses, guiding them through conflicts, shoring up their self-esteem, helping them explore their ideas and interests had been extremely rewarding. She’d felt as though she made a difference in their lives. She wanted more of that. A career of it, in fact.

As the summer ended, she’d recalled that her friend Nikki Winfield’s father was a principal. Cricket had worked for Party Time Characters, the kiddie party company Nikki’s best friend Mariah had started back then, and had gotten to know Nikki through her.

Before she knew it, Cricket had an interview with Nikki’s father, Harvey—a formal, old-fashioned guy, but sweet and completely in love with his school. Her science background and enthusiasm—and the fact they had no other applicants—earned her the job. She would refresh her biology with the textbooks, get teaching tips from colleagues and figure out the chemistry somehow.

The point was that she now had her very own classroom. She had a curriculum to cover, but how she presented it was up to her. She wanted her students to love learning and to figure out how they could make a difference, too.

When she sat still for long, though, doubts assailed her. Was she up to this? Could she stick to it even when it got hard? Would she get hit with the same disappointment she’d felt about social work? Maybe she was too idealistic. She had these great dreams, but the day-to-day getting there wore her down. At least so far.

This had to be different. She felt different. She felt ready. She’d already plowed into it—coming up with her jungle theme for the three sections of biology she would teach. She looked around at what she’d set up. It looked great. Purposeful. Appealing. Exciting. Except now, thanks to Tucker Manning, Fire Code Cop, she had to machete the vines and muscle the trees around.

A surge of stubbornness rolled through her. She wasn’t giving up on her rain forest, no matter what Captain Safety said.

Nothing within six inches of the ceiling, huh? Okay, how about seven? If she used lightweight wire extended from the tree branches…She smiled. She’d need some help, though. Out the window, she spotted three kids skateboarding across the campus pathways. She’d get to know them, get their help and annoy Rule Master Manning all at the same time. Talk about multitasking.

She hurried outside to chase them down.

WHEN CRICKET AND THE three students finished the rain-forest renovation, she took them to the town’s pizza parlor for food. The garishly lit, green-dragon-themed place was loud with the sounds of arcade games, rich with the tomato-and-baked-bread smell of pizza and decently crowded for a Wednesday night.

They’d just dug into two Chicago-style pepperoni pies and Dr. Pepper in frosty mugs, when Cricket looked up and saw Tucker striding down the aisle between green plastic benches, a bottle of beer in one hand.

“Hey, Tuck,” she said, motioning him over. “Join us.”

“Cricket.” He paused at the end of the table, smiling a great, warm smile that heated her like an electric blanket. “I don’t want to intrude.” He glanced at the boys, his brows lifted in curiosity.

“Tucker Manning, meet three of Copper Corners’ finest sophomores—Jason, Jeff and John, the Triple Js, as they’re known to their friends. Guys, meet your new assistant principal.”

Tucker set his bottle on the table and solemnly shook each hand, making enough eye contact to make the guys uncomfortable.

“They helped me rearrange my rain forest. Here, sit.” She patted the space beside her for Tucker, since the three students filled the opposite bench.

Tucker took a tentative seat. She could see him measure the distance so they wouldn’t touch at shoulder or hip.

Though the boys continued eating, Tucker’s presence had definitely put a chill on the meal. The man gave off authority like body heat.

“Are your parents aware of where you boys are?” he said, making it worse. He’d used a relaxed tone, but it came out stern and he’d called them boys.

“Pretty much,” Jason said, shrugging.

“Maybe you’d better be certain.” Tucker took his phone from a back pocket and extended it.

“’Sokay,” Jason said. “We should get going, Cricket.”

Jeff wolfed the last of his slice and John grabbed a piece to go, leaving three from the second pizza on the tray. She knew full well they would have cleaned up if Tucker hadn’t sunk the mood.

“Hang on,” she said. “We can talk to Mr. Manning about starting the ecology club.”

“That’s okay,” Jason said. “Thanks, Cricket.” The other boys mumbled their thanks, then all three lumbered away.

“Way to be a buzz kill,” she joked to Tucker. Despite the distance between them, she felt his body heat and smelled his cologne, a spicy musk that teased like his smile.

Tucker must have noticed how close they were, too, because he slid off her bench and onto the opposite one.

“Was it something I said?” she asked.

“This is better,” he said firmly. “And being alone with students at night is not a good idea.”

“They slaved over my room. The least I could do was feed them.”

“You’re young and single and very pretty, Cricket.”

“Why, thank you.”

“All three of those guys were smitten.”

“Nah. It’s not me. It was the food. No teen turns down free pizza.”

“It just doesn’t look good.”

“It’s okay. It’s so noisy we couldn’t even hear ourselves flirt and forget playing footsie—the lights are too bright.”

His brows lifted in alarm, which reminded her that she’d loved startling him with extreme ideas that long-ago night.

“Kidding, Tucker. Jeez. I’m twenty-seven. That’s antique to sophomores.”

“I also advise against allowing students to call you by your first name. You need them to respect you.”

“Respect has to be earned.”

“The kids need a teacher, not a pal. If you’re too chummy, they’ll take advantage of you, blow off assignments, talk back, refuse to listen. And then you’ll end up at war.”

Cricket stared at Tucker. He sounded like some tired veteran advising a new recruit how to survive a battle. “I want to reach my students at a human level, Tucker. I’m not their prison guard.”

“Too much familiarity is a mistake. Some teachers don’t smile for the first month. Maybe that’s overboard, but they have a point. Keep your distance, set high standards and you’ll give your students what they need—subject knowledge, thinking skills and the self-discipline to get what they want in life.”

“What happened to you, Tucker?” She reached across the table to playfully shake him by the shoulders. “Did they brainwash you at administrator school? You weren’t hard-hearted in college.”

He’d been tender, not tough, that night, and passionate, not reserved, and she’d felt as if she’d belonged in his arms.

She distracted herself from that thought by grabbing Tucker’s beer for a big gulp from the bottle.

“Hey!” he said.

“Sorry. It just looked tasty.” Which was exactly what she’d said when she’d snitched some of his Corona that night.

Tucker’s face stilled. He was remembering the moment, too, she was sure.

“How about some Skee-Ball?” she said to change the subject.

“I don’t think so.”

“What’s a little Skee-Ball between consenting adults?” It was just a light flirt, but their gazes locked like heat-seeking missiles. Fire zoomed through her.

Tucker sucked in a harsh breath, twirling his wedding ring. Again.

As if catching the vibe, a Skee-Ball light began to spin and flash red and the siren blared. Emergency, emergency. Lust alert. Calling all ice water.

Cricket crossed her legs to settle herself.

When the sound ceased, Tucker spoke. “I don’t think we should consent to anything together, Cricket. There’s too much…you-know…going on here.”

“You-know?” She couldn’t help teasing. “What’s you-know?”

“You know what you-know is,” he said, low and sexy, his eyes sparkling in the light, his smile crooked, the effect as romantic and inviting in the bright pizza parlor as it would have been in a dimly lit bistro.

She sighed. “Yeah. We both know.”

“I’m married. And I’m your boss, more or less. Playing Skee-Ball or sharing a beer or just sitting here talking, however innocent, is a bad idea.”

“I hate it when you’re right.” She leaned forward, chin on her fist. “I hope your wife appreciates you, Tucker.”

“I’m sure she does,” he said, but his eyes flickered away. What was up with that?

“What’s her name anyway? And where did you meet?”

“Her name is Julie and my, um, brother introduced us.”

“Where is she tonight? How come you’re eating alone?”

“She’s out of town. Working. She’s, um, an airline pilot.”

“An airline pilot? That’s cool.”

“She likes it.”

“So, she travels a lot?”

“All the time.”

Why did he look so guilty? She couldn’t see Tucker playing around. He struck her as an honest, loyal guy. He’d been very upset about the make-out session while he was still seeing Sylvia. Now Cricket had to know more.

“So what is Julie like?”

“She’s smart…and pretty, I guess.”

“You guess? Can I see her picture?”

“I don’t have one on me.”

No photo in the wallet? That wasn’t a good sign. She’d figured Tucker would be a sentimental guy, judging from the affectionate way he’d talked about his friends that night. “So, describe her to me.”

“Let’s see…medium build, dark hair to her shoulders. A little shorter than me.” He sounded like he had to wrack his brain to remember.

“That’s it? What about her eyes? What color are they?”

“Her eyes?” He looked completely panicked. “They’re green…and brown, too. Hazel, I guess.”

“Not very observant, Tucker.”

“I know the big things.”

“Little things add up to big things. Like what’s her favorite food? Favorite flavor of ice cream? Best band? What’s her pet peeve?”

“The important thing is that we make each other happy.”

“Does she make you happy, Tucker? Really?” She hadn’t meant to sound so serious, but she was a little worried about him.

“Of course she does,” he said, but he seemed tense and he was twisting his wedding ring like a stuck jar lid. “Could we stop talking about my marriage?”

“If you’d rather not talk about it.” Maybe Julie wasn’t good enough for Tucker. Maybe she’d seen what a catch he was and taken advantage of his kind nature.

“Okay, I’ll play your game,” he said abruptly, evidently taking her words as a challenge. “Her favorite food is chicken parmesan. Favorite ice cream—Cherry Garcia. She loves Bon Jovi. Her pet peeve is people who chat at the post office window when there’s a line. Her dress size is four—six if she feels bloated—and her favorite color is teal. Happy?”

“Teal, huh? Impressive. I didn’t think men even knew there was such a color. Of course you could be bluffing,” she teased. “I’ll check your answers at the back-to-school social. Julie will be there, right?”

“She’ll be there, all right.” But he didn’t look that happy about it.

An explanation suddenly occurred to her. “You don’t need to worry, Tuck. I’ll keep our sordid past a secret.” She winked, then drank another swallow of his beer, knowing it would annoy him.

“Would you like one of your own?” he asked wryly.

“It tastes better borrowed.” She was relieved he’d lightened up a little. “I can’t wait to meet Julie.”

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to meet you, too,” he said, tapping his beer bottle against her Dr. Pepper mug with a sigh.

Maybe once she met Julie, she’d feel better. Find out he was in a good marriage with a good woman. She didn’t want to think of him unhappy. And she didn’t want to be lusting after a married man. Any more than she already was, at least.

3

“THIS FEELS LIKE opening night,” Anna whispered, clutching a foil-covered bowl of her Asian chicken salad, which she’d made as Tuck’s contribution to the back-to-school potluck.

“Just don’t overact,” Tucker said for the fifth time, holding the door to the gym for her. Anna was entirely too into her role. She’d quizzed him about the other “characters” who would be part of tonight’s “performance,” and about her “motivation” as well as his. She’d even done research on female commercial pilots.

“Have a little faith, Tucker. I’m here to help.” She slipped her arm through his.

“I know you are.” God help him. The plan was to meet a few people, grab a quick bite and cut out early. Later, Tucker would watch the twins for a weekend—which would be pure joy—and everything would be back to normal.

With a silent prayer to the patron saint of fake marriages, he led Anna across the gym floor toward where the crowd had gathered by the cafeteria tables covered in patriotic paper cloths.

The gymnasium had been halved by a portable wall to make it more cozy, but voices echoed in the high-ceilinged space. Fluorescent lights gleamed off the polished wood floor and the benches folded against the walls. A cougar glared down from the backboard of the basketball hoop above the stage, where streamers looped, along with a paper welcome banner. The homey aroma of fried chicken, rolls and barbecued beans mingled with the rubber-and-wood smell of the gym for an interesting effect—sporty, yet savory.

Tucker spotted Harvey Winfield near the punch bowl with a woman—his wife Nadine, no doubt—and decided to get the most important encounter over first and fast. “Principal at twelve o’clock,” he murmured to Anna through his smile and headed straight for the target.

“So nice to see you both,” Harvey said, when they reached him, and had introduced everyone. “Tucker here is my right-hand man,” he said to Anna.

“I’m so happy to hear that,” Anna said. “Because Tucker simply lives for his work. Just lives for it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Nadine said sympathetically.

“No, no. It’s great. Really. Because I live for my work, too, so it’s perfect. We’re like a well-oiled marriage machine.”

Don’t over do it, he tried to tell her with his eyes.

“So you’re an airline pilot, I hear?” Nadine said.

“Yes, I am. And I love it. Fly, fly, fly. That’s my life. And as a woman, it’s a wonderful opportunity to blaze a career trail for young women. Did you know that only five percent of commercial pilots in the U.S. are women? Truly shameful. Women have been the unsung heroes of aviation. A woman named Lillian Todd was designing and building airplanes back in 1906, but no one has even heard of her. The first woman to become a commercial pilot—Helen Richey—didn’t get hired until 1934.”

“I didn’t know that,” Nadine said.

“As a matter of fact, according to Women in Aviation International, women now serve in all aviation fields.”

“How fascinating.”

“But I think that’s enough fun flight facts for now, Julie,” Tucker said gently. “We don’t want to monopolize Harvey and Nadine. And everyone in the buffet line is missing out on your salad.” He gave her a look.

“Oh, of course. My salad. I try to contribute where I can, even when I’m away so much. Tucker and I are a true team…even over the miles.”

“That’s wonderful,” Nadine said.

“I am just so happy that Tucker is happy here at Copper Corners,” Anna gushed. “And that you’re happy with him.”

“Very happy,” Harvey said.

Harvey and Nadine nodded and smiled.

“We’re all happy, Julie,” Tucker said, linking elbows and steering her away. “Thanks Harvey, Nadine.” He walked Anna away from the crowd to the side of the stage for a quick private consult.

“Where are you going?” she said. “The food’s over there.”

“Ease up a little, please. You overdid it with the ‘we’re such a happy, perfect team’ stuff. Try to do less talking and more smiling and listening. I’m already sweating buckets here.”

“Relax, Tucker. They loved me. And they’ll love you because of me. If you’re going to pull a stunt, pull it all the way.”

“This is my career we’re messing with, Anna, not an entry for Sundance. Let me do most of the talking.”

“So, I’m supposed to be the long-suffering helpmate? Sharing salad recipes and stain removal tips? That ain’t me, babe.”

“Anna, please.”

“And that’s not who you would marry, either. You’d want a woman with spunk and attitude. Someone who would stand up to you, speak her mind, give you hell.”

At that moment, he caught sight of Cricket Wilde making a beeline their way, a glass of pink lemonade in one hand, a big grin on her face. Speaking of someone who would give him hell.

Though he dreaded this encounter, his heart leaped with pleasure at seeing her and he wanted to grin back. He forced a neutral expression on his face. “Listen,” he said to Anna, low. “The woman I was telling you about? The roommate of one of my girlfriends in college? She’s heading over here.”

“The one who quizzed you about me?”

“Yes. Don’t say a lot. She’s already suspicious.” He’d had to tell Anna enough so she would go along with his guesses about her favorites, but he’d downplayed their history.

“Trust me, Tuck.” Anna turned casually to look at Cricket, who was barreling toward them. “Oooooh, she’s darling. You left that part out.” She gave him a look. “Very interesting.”

“Don’t even think it,” he said.

“This must be Julie,” Cricket said when she was close enough, giving Anna’s hand a vigorous shake. “So nice to finally meet you.”

Tucker watched her take Anna’s measure with those laser greens of hers. He could only pray Cricket would keep her promise to stay mum about the winter kiss. That was the last thing Anna needed to know, with her mind already chewing over attraction possibilities.

Cricket leaned close and scrutinized Anna. “Hazel,” she declared and straightened. “You were right, Tuck.”

“Tucker told me about your quiz,” Anna said. “He did pretty well, except my pet peeve is when really tall people plop in front of you after the movie has started.”

“Oh, yeah. I hate that,” Cricket said. “And when people crunch their popcorn like fiends during the quiet sequences.”

“Yes, yes!” Anna said. “Like pigs at a trough. Why does being in the dark make them lose their manners?” They smiled at each other, newfound allies. No surprise, now that he thought about it. They were a lot alike.

“So, you knew each other in college, huh?” Anna asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Cricket said, glancing up at him. “Through my roommate and campus activities. Just passing acquaintances. So, why are you two hiding out over here? Checking for fire code violations? You never know when those crazy Thespians might plug in one too many cords, right?” At least she’d changed the subject from their past, if only to harass him.

“What’s this?” Anna said.

“Didn’t Tucker tell you how he ruined my rain forest?”

“You ruined her rain forest?” Anna turned on him.

“That wasn’t what happened.”

“That’s exactly what happened. I had the most fabulous jungle vines hanging from the ceiling, with great trees, and he makes me yank everything down.”

“No!” Anna said.

“Yes. A fire code violation supposedly.”

“It was a safety issue. And I offered to help her fix it.”

“Couldn’t let him,” Cricket said, leaning in to stage-whisper a secret. “I didn’t want him to notice the campfire at the back. Not to mention the roast-pig pit.”

Anna laughed an entirely too delighted laugh.

“Trust me, Cricket,” Tucker said evenly. “If there was a fire, you would—”

“I would thank you, right.”

“And this hurts him more than it hurts you,” Anna added.

“Exactly,” Cricket said, high-fiving Anna. “He wasn’t like this in college. Did this happen when he became an administrator?”

Anna surveyed him. “I think he just wants to do the right thing. You know, be careful and conscientious. He means well.” She leaned closer to Cricket. “He has an inner rebel. If only someone would set it free…” She winked.

Lord. Was it too soon to leave?

“I’ll say,” Cricket said. “You should have seen him at the first staff meeting.”

“What did I do?” Tucker asked.

“You came on too strong with that ‘The Importance of Discipline to Student Learning’ speech. You should listen more, lecture less, Tucker. Especially when you’re new. And especially in a small town.”

“And you’re an expert on small towns?”

“I grew up in one. And I know people.”

“And I don’t?”

“Let me put it this way—if I were an administrator and I saw a new teacher with a lot of enthusiasm, I wouldn’t crush her spirit with the rule book the first chance I got. Someone less generous-minded might think you were being an ass.”

“If I’d waited to tell you, you wouldn’t have had time to fix it before school began.”

“You could have cut me a little slack.”

“And you should be more careful.”

“And what’s with the ‘older and wiser’ routine? We went to school together, Tucker.”

“I hate to break in here,” Anna said, laughter in her voice and something dangerous in her eyes, “but why don’t you take this to the table, Tuck?” She thrust her bowl into his hands. “And bring me a plate of food, please? That would be sweet.”

Uh-oh. These two alone would not be good. “How about if all three of us go?” he tried.

“I trust you, darling. I’ll just be giving Cricket some tips for helping you be a better administrator. I’ll have a thigh and a couple of legs—dark meat. Potatoes, no gravy, corn no butter and iced tea, please. Sweet ’n Low, not NutraSweet.”

On top of everything, Anna was a high-maintenance eater. He could hardly yank her away from Cricket. That would look macho and distrustful. He almost wished he’d told Harvey he was Forest’s gay life partner. It was beginning to sound safer than having Anna as his fake wife.