Susan Connell - Rebel's Spirit

In a voice thick with smoke and honey, she purred, “Not unless you’re volunteering, Mr. Hanlon.”

His gaze shot straight to hers. Everything he’d been trying not to think about poured into his mind and spilled over into his body. The moment hung hot and heavy between them until she had the grace to look away first. She scratched at the side of her nose.

“Oops. Am I getting detention for that one?”

Bracing his hands on his knees, he stood up. “Not this week,” he said, going along with the joke because there was no way he couldn’t.

The days were long gone when he could deal with her mischief by banishing her to detention. So were the days when he viewed her as a pretty, pain-in-the-butt teenager, a rebellious spirit who provoked him and the rest of the high school faculty as often as she could. Her selfconfidence remained, though, tempered by ten years of experiences he couldn’t begin to guess at. Except that those ten years had closed a gap between student and teacher. He went for her towel then took it to the side ladder.

“Am I getting evicted?” she asked, her body still hugging the wall as she pulled herself along the edge toward the ladder.

He draped the towel over the curved rail then turned to look at her.

“Not yet,” he said in the threateningly quiet tone he used with his college students. Professorial intimidation usually put a stop to any of their shenanigans, but Rebecca Barnett’s next teasing question told him, she wasn’t buying it.

“Am I getting to you, Mr. Hanlon?”

He stepped closer to the edge. “Miss Barnett,” he said, hoping to sound as dismissive as possible. “I assume by the looks of things that this mischief is a oneshot deal.”

“Unless you’ve got a pool heater, I—”

“I don’t,” he said, leaning forward and planting his hands on his knees, this time to bring his face closer to hers. “The game’s over. Let’s call this a draw. Your lips are turning blue.”

She pressed her collarbone closer to the wall and rolled her eyes. “That’s not all that’s turning blue,” she said, before scrinching up her mouth in an exaggerated frown.

He looked away, not daring to allow his stare to stray to those buttocks he’d been admiring a few minutes ago.

“To answer your original question, I’m back in town early because I’m having a faculty get-together tonight. If you’re planning to stay down here much longer I would appreciate it if you didn’t walk by my windows naked on your way upstairs.”

She batted her lashes at him. “Why is that?”

“Because…Dean Callahan has a heart condition.” He turned to go, hoping to make a swift and decisive exit before he made a complete fool of himself. Not too fast, not too slow. A normal pace, as if he were leaving his lecture hall. Then he heard the rush of disturbed water and pictured her climbing out of the pool. The five remaining steps up to the gate turned into the longest walk of his life.

“Mr. Hanlon. Wait up.”

“We can finish this conversation later.” As his hand closed over the gate handle, he heard her bare feet slapping against cement. “Don’t run!” Or I might have to look at you completely naked. No pool wall, no distortion from the water. Just perfectly and lusciously naked. Naked enough to blow my plan to treat you like the rebellious seventeen-year-old student you insist on playing.

A sigh of relief rushed from him a split second after she came into view. She’d managed to wrap the towel around her and was tucking a corner between her breasts.

“Yes, Miss Barnett?” he asked, watching her swipe water from her chin with the backs of her fingers.

“How’s your heart, Mr. Hanlon?”

Her clever response reminded him of the way she’d always loved getting in the last word. Brava. Slipping his hands in his trouser pockets, he nodded with a deceptively polite smile.

“Same condition it was in when we last spoke. Colder than ever, Miss Barnett.”

Now was the moment for making his getaway, but her plucky attitude compelled him to wait for the inevitable comeback.

“I’ve…ch-changed,” she said as an impish grin teased at her lips.

Or was that a muscle twitch brought on by the cold?

He had all he could do not to reach out and give her arms a brisk rub. Knowing that wasn’t the whole truth, he allowed his gaze to slide slowly down her body to the fine gold chain encircling her ankle. For some off-thewall reason he couldn’t fathom, the simple piece of jewelry inspired him to wonder how she would respond if he pulled her hard against him and kissed her until her lips were pink and swollen. If he gave himself half a chance he’d be putting the teacher/student taboo in the same place she obviously had. Ten years in the past. But he didn’t believe in taking chances, even half of one.

“Here,” he said, removing his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. “If you insist on prolonging this conversation,” he said sternly, “I don’t want you keeling over from hypothermia.”

As he turned up the collar, she hunched her shoulders and pressed her cheek to it. His thumb brushed her mouth at the same time she exhaled a soft “ahh.” The sound, coupled with the feel of her cool lips and puff of warm air, effectively bolted him to the flagstones beneath his feet.

Her eyelids drifted shut.

His lips parted.

“That feels so good,” she said, luxuriating in the body heat clinging to the lining.

His body heat. His jacket. Her body. She was pushing buttons and jiggling toggle switches he didn’t know he possessed until that second.

She flexed her knees and the subtle move made him think about her hips. He pictured the sleek curves, along with the rest of her body, brushing against the coat lining. The blatantly sensuous movement had him aching to pull her close and move with her. But he wasn’t going to. No matter that he had his hands on a nearly naked woman with an arousingly sensual nature, he had distance to keep along with his sanity. He looked down at her rosy cheeks, her moist lips and the way her lashes clumped together to make little points. As the wind rustled the branches of a nearby holly tree, he reminded himself to breathe while he figured out what not to do next.

She wriggled closer. Or was he pulling her closer? Her eyes opened, locking with his gaze instantly. Unlike his heartbeat, her lashes had stopped fluttering.

“Mr. Hanlon,” she whispered.

“Yes, Miss Barnett?”

“I—I’m not your student anymore and I—”

“I’m beginning to realize that,” he said, taking in the treasures of her face.

She moistened her lips with a quick lick, leaving them wet, ready and quivering. He slid his thumbs down the lapels and took a step closer.

“Your point being…?” he asked, his voice a husky drawl he hardly recognized as his own.

“I’ll be right across the driveway from you. And you’ll be…right across the driveway from me…”

He raised his eyebrows, urging her to continue with the simple but promising scenario.

“I’ll be here through the holidays and the class reunion. And I was wondering if we—”

He let go of the lapels and stepped back. She was in town for her class reunion? What the hell was he doing! Counting and recounting the five freckles across her nose? Memorizing the little hum her body made when she sighed? Wondering who put that ankle bracelet above those pretty pink enameled toenails of hers? “The reunion. Of course. I see. And you’ll be getting together with some of your old classmates. What is it that you want from me? Permission to throw a party? Maybe look the other way if you want another dip in the pool with your friends?”

She shook her head. “I want you to stop calling me Miss Barnett.”