Tara Quinn - White Picket Fences

Zack was happy to note a unanimous show of hands.

“Or we could try for three or four,” Randi said.

Could the woman not count?

“No, five’s good,” someone said.

“Five’s not a problem.”

“I’d like to do more than five. Could we talk about that?” another student asked.

“Five it is, then,” Randi interrupted quickly. She stared down at her leather-bound day planner. Mesmerized by the pulse beating in her neck, Zack listened while the dates were agreed upon. He didn’t smile. Not once.

At least not so anyone could see.

As each date was confirmed, she fidgeted a little more. A finger tapping the page of her planner. One foot tapping silently on the floor. Finally she began chewing on her lower lip in a way that Zack found rather disconcerting.

He no longer felt like smiling.

“YOU BUSY?”

Randi looked up from the scouting report she was reading in her office to see Zack Foster standing there.

The very person she’d been trying to avoid thinking about. She certainly didn’t want to see him. Especially in her private sanctum. The room was too small for both of them.

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