Silence fell with gratifying speed. All butts found their assigned seats and thirty teenagers faced her with varying degrees ofenthusiasm.
She let her gaze scan the class. “‘Death be not proud!’” She pointed to a figure slouched in one of the back seats, staring at the floor. Somebody hadn’t done his homework. “Dylan, give me the rest of the first stanza of Donne’s poem,please.”
John Donne would not have beenproud had he been privileged to hear the way his poetry was butchered. Still, it was something to have youngsters learning your verses centuries after you wrote them. Perhaps he would beproud.
Shari loved poetry, but she was ready to take a break from hearing it punctuated by ums and aahs, read in voices cracking with adolescence, stuttered over, mispronounced. Still, bless their hearts, they tried. Her next unit would be a relief for everybody. The curriculum specified a short stint on journalism. Maybe she’d even dig up a working reporter as aguest.
She was still thinking about that when she arrived home, a bag of groceries in each hand and a backpack heavy with marking on herback.
Her phone rang. She struggled with her key, the grocery bag banging against her legs as she let herself into her apartment. She dropped the groceries, swung her pack down her arm and pulled out her cell. It was Luke. “Hello?”
“Did I catch you in the middle of something?” The deep, rich voice, lightly threaded with humor, got her heartpounding.
“No, I just gothome.”
“I’m calling to make a date,” hesaid.
“Date?”
“For chapterone.”
“Chapter one. Right.” Her breathlessness didn’t abate. If anything, it worsened. “I, um, didn’t realize we’d be starting so soon.” Therese’s reaction was fresh in her mind. What was shedoing?
“I’m eager to begin. I thought maybe this Friday night, if you’re not alreadybusy.”
“Friday night? Um.” She wasn’t busy Friday night. Still, was she ready forSex for Total Morons? She was probably as ready as she’d ever be. Might as well get on with it. “Sure. Friday’sfine.”
“Wonderful.” His voice was warm and full of implied goodies. She pictured him talking to her from a floor below and smiled at the floor on the left hand side of the living room, where, she assumed, they shared a wall. “Why don’t you come down aroundseven?”
“Oh, we’re doing this at your place?” Suddenly she wasn’t so sure. “I thought maybe we’d do it at myapartment.”
“Well, why don’t we take turns? This week my apartment, next weekyours?”
“I guess so. That sounds fair.” In fact, the whole thing sounded horrendous and she couldn’t help thinking that this was all B.J. McLaren’s fault. Shari had left college and its bad memories. Why was the woman still messing with her lovelife?
“Great. I’ll see youFriday.”
A thought struck her. “Luke?”
“Yes?”
“What’s in chapterone?”
He laughed softly.“You’ll find outFriday.”
Even though he couldn’t see her, she narrowed her eyes in a don’t-mess-with-me-mister expression. “Nothing beyond kissing,right?”
“That’s right. There’s nothing but kissing until chapterfive.”
“All right. See youFriday.”
LUKE CONTEMPLATEDthe candles he’d purchased. In his experience, women liked them. Candlelight helped camouflage figure faults he could never see but his women friends so often swore they had.Whatever.
Would that be cheating, though? He was trying to see if his book worked. He didn’t want to jeopardize the pure science of his findings by adding a lot of seductive extras. Candlelight, wine, flowers; all the usual seduction aids might be consideredcheating.
And yet, no man could be expected to seduce a woman over milk and cookies with all the lights on. Well, come to think of it, he’d done that in high school with his first girlfriend. For a long time after that, just the sight of cinnamon-swirl cookies gave him a hard-on.
Had he mentioned wine and candlelight in chapter one? If so, he was off the hook. What the hell had he written,anyway?
