“I couldn’t help myself. Okay, ask me somethingspecific.”
“What do you like most about being ateacher?”
“Bringing poetry alive.” She was surprised she’d even said that. But she was even more surprised that he’d remembered her profession when she’d only mentioned it casually during one of their exchanging-mail chitchat sessions. How odd to admit her passion to a virtual stranger. Still, he’d asked and was gazing at her as though he were truly interested, so shecontinued.
“Kids don’t get a lot of poetry in their lives. I love it when you suddenly see that a student gets it. They’ll be stuttering along and then it’s as though the rhythms and the beauty of the language catch them unaware. Those are my breakthrough moments. They don’t happen often, but no one leaves my class without a nodding acquaintance with Shakespeare, Wordsworth…” She glanced at him with a wry grin. “Even Whitman. Right now we’re studying JohnDonne.”
“‘No man is an island.’ Good choice forteenagers.”
“That’s the very poem we discussed in class today.” She chuckled softly and told Luke that when the bell to change classes had rung, Terry, a smart but lazy junior had intoned in a deep baritone, “‘Never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls forthee.’”
Class anecdotes were safe and gave the illusion of talking about her while, in fact, she shared little personalinformation.
They were into their second drink when he said, “You’re single.” It wasn’t a question but a statement, and yet she felt as though he really wanted toknow.
“Yes. I’msingle.”
Luke reached forward and played with the fingers of her left hand. “Still pining overRandy?”
She was impressed he remembered the guy’s name. “No. Of course not. I’m between men, that’sall.”
“How long’s itbeen?”
“Six months.” She didn’t know why she should feel defensive. She hadn’t met anyone she cared for enough to get serious within half a year. So what? “How aboutyou?”
He shook his head. “Tonight’s only aboutyou.”
“I was with someone for a year or so, but it wasn’t going anywhere. I’m getting to a stage in my life where I’d rather be alone than with someone who boresme.”
“I’ll try not to bore you in our four weeks together,” he saidsoftly.
“I’d appreciate that,” she said, thinking that bored was not how she felt about the way he was toying with her fingers. The man must have memorized a diagram in chapterone.
The expression in those mossy green eyes went way past chapter four. His gaze communicated wanting, promised intimacy. Every womanly atom in her body was answering his unspoken question,Yes, yes, yes!She forced herself to swallow.Down,girl.
She stared again at his lips, wetted her own with her tongue and then said an incredibly stupid thing before she could stop herself. “When do wekiss?”
He grinned at her, his teeth gleaming white in the darkness. “Let’s leave that for asurprise.”
He’d taste like beer and hot male. Were his lips as firm as they looked? Would he have a clue what to do with them? At least let him be a goodkisser.
“You know,” she said, in what she hoped was a reasonable teacher’s tone, “I think we should give the kissing a try quite soon. Just incase.”
“In casewhat?”
She shrugged. “We might really have to work at it. Don’t forget, we only have a month.” She watched a line of condensation form near the top of his beer mug. “Maybe I should go get a copy of thatbook.”
The moisture on his mug wavered as his arm jerked, jarring the glass mug. “No,” he all but shouted. “Don’t dothat.”
“Whynot?”
“Then you’llknow…”
A quiver of amusement shook her. “Know all yoursecrets?”
“Yeah. And you’ll know all my moves before I make them. It wouldn’t befair.”
“I thought you said this book was for couples? Isn’t there a section forwomen?”
