Reluctant Housemates Page 16

  She pushed back in her seat. “Whoa! Mr. Philosopher,” she said, unlacing her fingers from his. “You worry about Jack Levine, and I’ll worry about Rachel Goodman.” But now her hand was gently trapped under his larger one, and she glared at him.

  “That wasn’t a criticism. Just concern.”

  She blinked and relaxed again. He wasn’t lying. The concern was etched on his face and reflected in his voice. Her fingers resumed their dance with his.

  “I’ll manage,” she said.

  “Starting now, you will. Look who’s here.” Jack rose and extended his hand to the newcomer. “Hi, Tom. Maggie has you working day and night, eh?”

  Tom Sullivan shook Jack’s hand, then smiled and greeted Rachel. “Glad to see you out and about. Enjoying your meal?”

  She motioned to the table. “Clean-plate club. We all know Maggie and Thea are the best cooks in town.”

  The coach patted his middle. “Too much so, sometimes.”

  Rachel laughed. “The kids burn it off you, I’m sure. And by the way, that was a good game last night. You’re heading into a winning season, Coach. Congratulations.”

  “You were there?”

  “She’s been at every game so far,” inserted Jack. “Which is more than I can say for myself. I’m busy with two jobs. Working conflicts with working sometimes, if you know what I mean.”

  “Don’t apologize,” replied Tom. “I hold two jobs, also. Sometimes I think it’s three—the classroom, the coaching and the restaurant. But that’s the way it is, and I have no complaints.” He waved and was gone.

  “There goes a happy man,” said Jack.

  “For now,” she added, then wished she’d held her tongue.

  She felt Jack’s eyes studying her. Saw him shake his head slowly. “No, Rachel. He’s a happy man. Period.”

  “But…”

  “Doesn’t matter what happens on Tuesday with report cards. He’ll deal with it.” He motioned to the back of the restaurant. “There’s his happiness. His wife and family. For Tom Sullivan, that’s what it’s really all about.”

  Rachel stared down the length of the room, then back at Jack. Her thoughts rearranged themselves. Tom had seemed genuinely friendly toward her. Of course, he’d known her her whole life. And was almost old enough to be her father, but still…he knew she could really make his job difficult.

  She looked at Jack. Maybe he was right. “How did you suddenly get so smart? Maybe you’re a philosopher after all!”

  “I don’t know about that, but I’m definitely not philosophically opposed to dessert. Pick the richest one on the menu.”

  She sighed. “Every one of them looks good, but I’m really too full.”

  “Easy fix,” replied Jack with a grin. “We’ll order two to go, and I’ll make the coffee back at our house.”

  “Our house? Sounds funny, doesn’t it?”

  “No,” he replied. “I don’t think it sounds funny at all.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  EITHER THE PIRATE HAD changed or her impression of him had changed. Rachel glanced at their entwined hands as she and Jack moseyed along Pilgrim Beach, their desserts stored in her fridge. A slight breeze chilled the air, but the glowing harvest moon illuminated the sand and offered a sense of warmth. The twinkling stars and the steady rhythm of the ocean kept them company as they strolled.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d opted for such a slow gait. She’d certainly never seen Jack move at less than warp speed, either. Something had definitely changed.

  “This has been…a perfect evening,” said Jack, his voice deep and warm. Sincere.

  Rachel glanced up. No smart-ass grin lurked, no punch line followed. The man wasn’t joking. Her fingers began to tingle as they rested in Jack’s hand. Was there more behind his words? And did she want to hear it?

  “What a nice compliment,” she replied. Her own voice sounded low and raspy, and impetuously, she squeezed his hand.

  He paused in his step and turned to face her. When he looked down, his green eyes glowed…searching, and his fingers gently traced the line of her cheek, then her bottom lip. Back and forth. “So full, so enticing…”

  She couldn’t move—he stroked her top lip next—and the exquisite sensation on her mouth made her hunger for more.

  “So pouty…” he whispered, leaning in for a taste.

  “They are?” she murmured, raising her chin to better feel his touch.

  And suddenly, she was wrapped in his arms, secure in his embrace, his kisses raining on her mouth, her neck and that sensitive place behind her ear. Her eyes closed and she shivered, tilting her head and reaching blindly up to return his kisses with her own.

  Then she didn’t have to try. He was there. His mouth captured hers, and she gave back the same sweetness that she received. Tender. Eager. Then burning. He excited her like no other man she’d known. Like a tempest ripping through her. She’d known this would happen, had known for weeks—maybe since the pirate had stood in the classroom doorway—that she’d lose herself with Jack if she’d ever give herself permission.

  Her knees weakened. She clung to him. And for the first time in her memory, Rachel Goodman allowed herself to trust someone. With her life. With her happiness. Maybe with her soul.

  When she opened her lids, she saw her answer. Warmth radiated from Jack’s eyes, from his soft smile. She felt his tenderness when his hand gently cupped her cheek. And when his smile became a grin, she saw complete joy infuse him. Jack Levine loved her!

  But that couldn’t be right. Jack Levine was a sailor with a woman in every port. When he docked in Boston, he always returned late. A big social life would explain it. When he showed up anywhere with his come-hither grin, women surrounded him. Jack Levine couldn’t love only one woman if she were the last woman in the world. Of that, Rachel had no doubt. So, she must have imagined the expression on his face.

  She blinked hard and glanced at him again. There! His pirate smile was back in place, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn’t handle more complications now.

  “Ready for that dessert?” asked Jack, taking her hand and leading her back toward Sea View House, his thumb stroking her palm.

  She shivered. Then felt hot. Despite her reservations, the dessert she wanted was walking alongside her.

  THEY’D SHARED THE BOSTON cream pie, then he’d kissed her hard on the mouth and said good-night. They’d followed the same routine on Sunday evening after their second visit to the Lobster Pot. And on Monday morning, Rachel’s memories of the entire weekend revolved around Jack, food, kissing and walking on a moonlit beach. Not a bad way to spend a weekend.

  Somehow, between working and daydreaming, the morning slipped away. But by three o’clock, Rachel was entirely focused once again on her job.

  She made her way to the athletic director’s office. Out of courtesy, she’d give him a heads-up on the next day’s events. Two key players would be removed from the football team. His office was empty, however, and Rachel walked to Dr. Bennett’s office instead.

  The principal looked up from his desk and smiled. “Leaving for the day?”

  “Not yet,” she replied, standing near the door. “Just wanted to touch base with you in case a couple of angry young men storm your office tomorrow afternoon or Wednesday.”

  “Our star football players?” he asked. “It won’t be the first time nor the last that I’ve dealt with upset students. Parents, too, I might add.”

  She nodded.

  Dr. Bennett sighed and shook his head. “Can you find out why these kids let their grades drop after passing all their subjects during the last two years. I thought football was so important to them, but maybe it’s not. Maybe they’re afraid to say they’ve had enough.”

  Rachel’s breath caught as she stared as her old mentor. Did Dr. Bennett have no idea that the faculty might have been intimidated by the athletic director?

  “I thought they loved the sport, too,” she replied, as she left his office
and headed for her own. She needed time to think!

  She closed her door and began pacing. How could Dr. Bennett be so unaware?

  A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She pulled it open and there stood Jack, all six foot three of him, granite solid and smiling at her. Then frowning.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She pulled him inside and closed the door again. “It’s going to be worse than I thought,” she began as she resumed her pacing. “I don’t even know if I should share this with you, but I’ve got to tell someone! It’s because Dr. Bennett’s got a heart of gold that he never suspected anything. He sees the best in everyone, and that’s why he was so good at helping me. But this…this is different.”

  She looked at Jack expectantly. He was leaning against the door frame, shaking his head. “Rach, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  As she explained, his face clouded until she could almost hear the roll of thunder. “Rachel, are you afraid?” He stepped toward her, his arms opening.

  She held up her hand to stop him. “Afraid? Of the kids? No. Of course not. It’s just…I hadn’t expected to uncover…uncover…slime…among the staff. And that’s making me a little sick.” It was the truth, and she pressed hard on her roiling stomach.

  “Bob Franklin seems to have insinuated himself between Dr. Bennett and the staff. He must be telling the teachers that Dr. Bennett said to pass the kids in enough subjects so they can play. Bennett never knows how the kids are really doing in class. The teachers think they’re following Dr. Bennett’s directive. Franklin looks like he’s running a great sports program. The Guidance Department is in the dark, too. That’s how Franklin’s gotten away with it. Those boys didn’t suddenly lose interest in academics this year. They never had the grades in the first place.”

  When Jack approached her this time, she didn’t stop him. And when he embraced her, she leaned against his broad chest, wishing she could just disappear into him. Wishing she could hide and be protected forever. Reality pierced her immediately, however, and she stepped back.

  “It is pretty ugly,” Jack said. “I’m sorry the boys didn’t show up for tutoring. I guess they wanted to sleep in.”

  “Thanks for trying,” replied Rachel.

  He brushed away her thanks with a flick of his wrist. “What can I do to help you?”

  She shook her head.

  “How about if I sit here as an auditor when you tell the boys they’re off the team,” suggested Jack. “So you won’t be alone.”

  Reaching for him, she squeezed his arm. “Thank you, but no. I can handle the boys.” She peered up at him. “I think I just needed a friend.”

  His arms tightened around her. “Rachel. Honey. Anytime—day or night. Whatever you need, I am here for you.” He kissed her. “Don’t you know that yet?”

  “I—I—I think I’m a slow learner sometimes.”

  His laughter was exactly the medicine she needed. Amazingly, she heard her own voice join his, and felt her tension dissipate.

  “Then aren’t you lucky that I’m a patient man?” His eyes gleamed with warmth and humor before he looked at his watch.

  “I’ve got a date with your dad at the library. Do you want me to postpone?”

  “Not at all,” she replied. “I’m leaving here in a few minutes myself.”

  “Pack up now and I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “I need a little time. Go ahead. Your book project is waiting. Or is it the pollution project? Or the lobster project?” She shook her head. “I can’t keep up with you and your research.”

  “Want to walk on the beach later?”

  “Sure.” She waved him off, then mumbled to herself. “I just wish he’d finish at least one of those projects….”

  As she left the administrative suite, Bob Franklin walked in and she paused in her stride. “Do you have a second?” she asked.

  “For you? I live for my chats with you.” His dislike was evident in his tone and expression.

  “I do not appreciate the sarcasm, Bob.” She would not be intimidated by a bully. She held his gaze without blinking.

  He stared at her in silence.

  “Just an advance warning,” she said, leading him back toward the privacy of her office before continuing. They stood in her doorway. “Jimmy Williams and Steve Yelton are going to be cut tomorrow. You might want to talk with Tom Sullivan this evening about substitutions so when the team practices again you’ll be ready with an alternative plan.”

  His cold blue eyes would have made her shiver if she’d allowed herself to. “You’re really going through with this?”

  “I’m not doing anything. The boys each flunked two of four major subjects. You should know the state’s rules better than I do. They’re spelled out in the MIAA Handbook,” she said, referring to the Massachusetts Interscholastic Athletic Association rules. “The two boys are out for the next marking period. And they did it to themselves.”

  The man’s coloring turned florid. “You just don’t get it, do you? Well, you won’t get away with it. Those rules are broken all the time, and we’ve got a reputation to uphold, championships to win and money to bring in. The boys did just fine until you showed up. No one on the school board or in this town will back you. And believe me, sister, I’m not keeping quiet.”

  She shrugged. The rules were clear in her mind. “Do what you want,” she replied. “But not tonight. Report cards haven’t been distributed yet. Good evening.” She reached for her tote bag and left the building.

  It wasn’t until she sat behind the wheel of her car that she began to shake.

  SHE WOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE to deal with the boys by themselves, but she hadn’t counted on four angry parents and a group of students—members of the football team—waiting for her when she pulled into the school parking lot early the next morning. Seemed that Bob Franklin couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Report cards were still in the office, but these parents had already received the news of their sons’ change of status.

  She got out of the car, and was surrounded. Harsh voices pelted her. Youths’ and adults’. Dozens of questions and accusations swarmed in the air.

  “We need Jimmy and Steve on the team. You don’t understand!” That was Donnie Shroeder, the loyal linebacker.

  She’d have to take charge or be devoured. She held one hand up like a cop, happy that her cell phone was in her purse if she needed to call for help.

  “Stand back! Everybody. Now!”

  The shouting stopped, and the group shuffled a step backward.

  “Donnie Shroeder, Lincoln Smith, Mike Perrini,” she said, pointing at each player as she spoke, “since school is not officially opened yet, you will remain outside until it is. Then you’ll report to my office. Understood?”

  The boys glanced at one another, then nodded.

  “I didn’t hear you,” said Rachel pointedly.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.” Positive reinforcement for manners, as meager as they were.

  She turned toward the two families. “You’re welcome to come inside, but I will meet with only one family at a time. If that’s not acceptable, you can return later and explain to my boss why you refused my offer of privacy to discuss your concerns.”

  She waited a moment, and when neither family left, she said, “Okay, folks. Let’s go in.”

  But the discussions were fruitless. The anger and disappointment of both parents and students created a wall that Rachel couldn’t break through.

  “Everybody knows teachers don’t fail the players,” said Mr. Yelton. “They give ’em a D, but not an F. Our kids never claimed to be Einsteins.”

  Nods of agreement by his wife and son.

  “That behavior is totally against the code of ethics we live by in the world of interscholastic sports,” said Rachel.

  “Since when?” the man replied, his voice rising. “Since you changed the rules? Why don’t you go somewhere else and make boys miserable? Playing means everythin
g to my son.” Steve’s father rose, leaned across Rachel’s desk and glared at her. “And you haven’t heard the end of this yet, lady, not by a long shot. Steve’ll be back on the team by the end of the week.”

  “I’m afraid not,” said Rachel softly.

  The man gestured to his wife and son, and all three stalked out of the room. Rachel leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.

  Just as she raised her lids, two men appeared in her doorway. Bob Franklin and Jack Levine. She ached for Jack’s gentle touch, but made her expression blank as she looked at Bob.

  “Having second thoughts?” he asked with an innocent smile.

  “Not a one.”

  “It’s not too late to change their grades, you know. We can avoid all the nastiness that’s going to happen next.” He turned toward Jack. “She’s been complaining about you, too, pal. Your students aren’t passing, either. But the truth is that this woman doesn’t know how to do her job at all. Ever since she got here, the school’s been a mess.”

  Rachel saw Jack’s eyes blaze. Saw his arm flex as he turned toward the athletic director. Good God! Just what she didn’t need. “Jack!” He looked at her, and she shook her head, hoping he’d get the message.

  She focused her gaze on Bob Franklin. “I’ve got four words for you…no, no, better make it seven.” She enunciated clearly: “Massachusetts Interscholastic Athletic Association—Code of Ethics.” She stood and walked in front of her desk. “How many rules have you broken over the years, Bob?”

  His jaw tightened. His expression turned ugly. “Don’t think you can threaten me. I built these teams!” He turned and left.

  “Close the …” She didn’t have to complete the sentence. Jack had pulled her door shut and was wrapping his arms around her before she could organize her thoughts. So she didn’t think. She just rested against him.

  “I’m going to beat the sh…stuffing out of him,” he said, continuing to hold her.

  Her head snapped backward. “No, no,” she said, with rising panic. “Please. You can’t do that. Don’t even think about it.”

  “Okay, honey. Okay. Then he’ll just have to walk the plank!”