RaeAnne Thayne - Taming Jesse James

Beginning today, things would be different. She would make them different.

If she didn’t, she knew it was only a matter of time before she would stop paddling completely and let herself slip quietly into the icy depths.

Her resolve lasted until she arrived at school and found Jesse Harte’s police Bronco out front.

She cringed, remembering how she had fought and kicked at him the day before in the middle of another of those nasty flashbacks. He must think she was completely insane, the kind of woman who boiled pet rabbits for kicks.

Maybe she wouldn’t even see him.

Maybe the vehicle belonged to a totally different officer.

Maybe an earthquake would hit just as she reached the doors to the school and she wouldn’t be able to go in.

No such luck. Inside, she found Jesse standing in the glass-walled office taking notes while Chuck Hendricks—the principal of the school and the bane of her and every other Salt River Elementary teacher’s existence—gestured wildly.

Whatever they were talking about wasn’t sitting well with Chuck, judging by his red face and the taut veins in his neck that stood out like support ropes on a circus tent.

Jesse didn’t see her, she saw with relief. She should have hurried on to her classroom, but the temptation to watch him was irresistible. The man was like some kind of dark angel. Lean and rugged and gorgeous, with rough-hewn features and those unbelievably blue eyes.

She pressed a hand to her stomach, to the funny little ache there, like a dozen tiny, fluttering birds.

“He’s yummy, isn’t he?”

Coloring fiercely, Sarah jerked her gaze away as if she’d been caught watching a porn movie. She had been so engrossed in watching Jesse that she hadn’t even heard Janie Parker walk up and join her.

“Who?” she asked with what she sincerely hoped was innocence in her tone.

The art teacher grinned, showing off her dimples. “Salt River’s favorite bad-boy cop. Jesse Harte. The man makes me want to run a few stop signs just so he’ll pull me over. He can write me all the tickets he wants as long as I can drool over him while he’s doing it.”

Janie was probably exactly his type. Petite and curvy and cute, with a personality to match. Sarah had a quick mental picture of the two of them together, of Jesse looking down at the vivacious teacher with laughter in those blue eyes, just before he lowered that hard mouth to hers.

The image shouldn’t depress her so much. She quickly changed the subject. “What’s got Chuck’s toupee in such a twist?” she asked.

It was exactly the kind of thing the Before Sarah would have said, something glib and light and casual. But it was obvious from Janie’s raised eyebrows that she didn’t expect anything remotely glib from the stiff, solemn woman Sarah had become.

The rest of the faculty must think she had no sense of humor whatsoever. How could she blame them, when she had given them little indication of it?

She also hadn’t tried very hard to make friends. Not that she hadn’t wanted friends—or, heaven knows, needed them—but for the first time in her life, she hadn’t been able to work up the energy.

This was one of the things she could change, if it wasn’t too late. Starting today, she would go out of her way to be friendly to her fellow teachers. If anybody dared invite her anywhere after she had spent six months rebuffing all their efforts, she wouldn’t refuse this time.

“Somebody broke in to the school last night,” Janie finally answered.

Sarah immediately regretted her glibness. “Was it vandals?”

“Nothing was damaged as far as anybody can tell, but they got away with the Mile High Quarter Jar.”

She suddenly realized that was the reason the foyer in front of the office looked different. Empty. “How? That thing must have weighed a ton!”

As a schoolwide project, the students were collecting money for the regional children’s medical center and were trying to raise enough quarters to cover a mile if they were laid in a straight line.

They still had a way to go, but had raised nearly fifteen hundred dollars in quarters.

Janie shrugged. “Either we’ve had a visit from a superhero-turned-bad or they must have used a dolly of some kind.”

“How did they get in?”

“A broken window in Chuck’s office. That’s probably why he’s so upset. Forget the kids’ money, but if he knows what’s good for him, Chief Harte darn well better catch the villains who dared scatter glass all over His Holiness’s desk.”

Broken glass littering a desk like shards of ice.

Sarah drew a quick breath and pushed the memory aside. She forced a laugh, which earned her another surprised look from the other teacher.

Jesse couldn’t have heard it inside the office, but he lifted his head anyway.

His gaze locked onto hers and a slow, private smile spread over his features like the sun rising over the Salt River range.

A simple smile shouldn’t have the power to make her blush, but she could feel more color seeping into her cheeks. Still, she managed to give him a hesitant smile in return, then quickly turned away to find Janie watching the interaction with avid interest.

“Whoa. What was that all about?”

Sarah blushed harder. “What?”

“Is there something I should know about going on between you and our hunky police chief?”

“No. Of course not! I barely know the man.”

“So why is your face more red than Principal Chuck’s right now? Come on. Tell all!”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Without realizing it, she used the same curt tone she would with an unruly student. “Excuse me. I have to get to class.”

Janie’s tentative friendliness disappeared and she donned a cool mask. “Sorry for prying.”

Sarah felt a pang as she watched it disappear. She remembered her vow to make new friends and realized she was blowing it, big time. “Janie, I’m sorry. But really, nothing’s going on. Chief Harte is just…we’re just…”

“You don’t have to explain. It’s none of my business.”

“Honestly, there’s nothing to explain. I just always seem to act like an idiot around him,” she confessed.

“Don’t we all, sweetheart? What is it about big, gorgeous men that zaps our brain cells?”

The warmth had returned to Janie’s expression, Sarah saw with relief. She wanted to bask in it like a cat sprawled out in a sunbeam.

But she knew she would have to work harder to make a new friend than just a quick conversation in the hallway. Gathering her nerve, she smiled at the other teacher. “Are you on lunch duty this week?”

“No. I had my turn last week.”

“Would you like to escape the school grounds for a half hour and grab a quick bite sometime?”

If she was shocked by the invitation, Janie quickly recovered. “Sure. Just name the day.”

“How about Friday?”

“Sounds perfect.”

It was a start, Sarah thought as she walked to her classroom. And somehow, for just a moment, the water surrounding her didn’t seem quite as cold.

Jesse tuned out Up-Chuck Hendricks and watched Sarah make her slow way down the hall toward her classroom. She was still favoring her leg, he saw with concern. Her walk was just a little uneven, like a wagon rolling along with a wobbly wheel.

He shouldn’t have taken her word that everything was okay the night before. He should have insisted on hauling her to the clinic, just to check things out.

What else was he supposed to have done? He couldn’t force her to go to the doctor if she didn’t want to. He’d done what he could, sat with her as long as she would let him.

It amazed him how protective he felt toward her. Amazed him and made him a little uneasy. He tried to tell himself it was just a natural—if chauvinistic—reaction of a man in the presence of a soft, quiet, fragile woman. But deep down he knew it was more than that. For some strange reason he was fascinated by Sarah McKenzie, and had been since the day she moved to Star Valley.