Susan Connell - Rebel's Spirit

Setting aside the container, Megan rested her elbows on the counter and dropped her chin into the cups of her hands.

“Reb Barnett, what scandalous vengeance are you planning to wreak on poor old Professor Hanlon now?”

“Old? He’s not old, he’s—” What was she defending him for? He’d left her standing in his driveway with her hard-won image of a mature woman, not to mention a bath towel, around her ankles. None of her reactions had made any sense then, and they weren’t making any more sense now.

“Meggie,” she said quietly, rubbing her temples, “I’m trying to sort out a few things.”

“What things?”

“I don’t know. He looked at me in an odd way.”

“Gee, you don’t think that had anything to do with him discovering you swimming naked in his pool, do you?”

Staring at the packages of gourmet coffees behind her friend, Rebecca absently ran her tongue over the edges of her teeth. “I think that was part of it.”

Megan pushed up from the counter. “You’re not joking, are you? Something’s going on between you two, isn’t it?”

Her friend’s last question sounded like an indisputable fact and a disturbing one at that. The idea of being attracted to her former teacher was still an outrageous one to her, too. Opening her hands and raising them palms up, she gave an exaggerated shrug. “Nothing is going on. I just saw the man for the first time in ten years and…”

“Sounds to me as if you just saw the man for the first time. What are you planning in that deliciously devious mind of yours?”

Rebecca gave a quick look around at the young college crowd hunched over their cappuccinos and caffé lattes before turning back to Megan. Scissoring her hands over the cake, she announced, “I have never thought of him in that way.”

“Well, thank goodness for that,” Megan said, in a deceptively demure voice. Lifting the cake, she placed the holiday dessert into a prefolded box then winked at her friend. “Because knowing you, you could have gotten him arrested.”

“Very funny,” she said, helping with the flapping box top. “I hope you don’t think I’m thinking of him in that way today…” The sound of her own nervous laughter made her wince. “I mean…that’s so…”

“Ah, Reb, you used to be so articulate when it came to Mr. Hanlon. Now you can’t seem to put together a complete sentence about the guy.” She pressed her palm to her chest. “Did I mention he’s divorced?”

“Divorced?” Reb repeated, unable to ignore how instantly hungry she was for more information. And how suddenly hesitant she was to ask for it.

“Four years ago, so I think we can safely say she’s out of the picture. But imagine what his wife would have said if she’d found you naked in—”

“Dear Lord, I never considered the possibility that he could be married,” she whispered.

“Really? Well, the important thing now is to think of him as available.”

Available? The idea that she would be romantically interested in Show-No-Mercy Hanlon wasn’t even funny. It was crazy.

“I swear, Meggie, that skinny-dip meant nothing more than a little secret revenge for all he put me through ten years ago. Now that I’ve seen him…now that he’s seen me, all I want to do is prove to him that I’ve changed. That I can handle myself in a mature fashion,” she said, her voice rising as she did from the stool. “That I’m not the self-indulgent, trouble-making heathen he once thought I was. That I’m dependable, presentable and charming as hell,” she said, whacking her hand on the countertop. “What are you smiling about?”

“You’re serious about that?”

“Damn straight,” she said, flicking back an errant lock of hair that had tumbled over her forehead.

“Great. Then you can start demonstrating all those admirable qualities to him tonight.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, kinking one brow.

“Raleigh Hanlon called me from Daleville this morning and asked if Piece Of Cake could cater desserts for a get-together at his place. I guess he’s been so busy with his niece he’d forgotten he’d agreed to host the faculty’s first holiday party. You’d be helping me out if you’d take this job. You see, I have umpteen calls to make for the reunion committee and I’d already promised Paige I’d teach her Chickadee group how to make pine cone Santas tonight.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You want me to serve cake to a bunch of professors?” Rebecca asked, picturing her usually glib tongue tied in self-conscious knots. The thought of so many graduate degrees under one roof was beyond intimidating when she thought of the simple high school diploma she almost didn’t receive.

“You’ll have the undying gratitude of my five-yearold.”

“Guilt can move mountains, Megan, but I don’t know…”

“Reb, just think, you’ll have the opportunity to impress Raleigh Hanlon…with all your clothes on this time.”

An hour later Rebecca stood at Raleigh Hanlon’s back door with his jacket around her shoulders. She was hugging a huge poinsettia plant to one hip and holding a shopping bag in her left hand. With her right she tinkered with the black bow tie her friend insisted had to be worn with the official Piece Of Cake caterer’s uniform. The slender grosgrain ribbon wrapping primly around the starched stand-up collar of the pleated tuxedo shirt was the last thing Raleigh Hanlon would expect to see her wearing. She looked down at the rest of the uniform. The red plaid cummerbund and black, pleated trousers actually looked kind of cute. Cute? She winced. She was about to walk into Show-No-Mercy Hanlon’s house looking cute. “Reb Barnett,” she whispered, as she knocked on the door a second time, “if the old gang could see you now.”

A second later the door opened and, without looking up, Raleigh was waving her in. He was speaking with considerable emotion into the telephone wedged between his shoulder and chin.

Rebecca remained on the doorstep taking in the details of the man who was totally absorbed in his conversation. His burgundy-and-blue tattersall shirt was rolled up at both wrists, exposing his Swiss Army watch and his handsomely muscled forearms. Unlike her miniature bow tie, his long navy blue one draped either side of his unbuttoned shirt framing a healthy amount of dark, crinkly chest hair. As if to counterpoint the vibrant signs of his masculinity, a pair of tortoiseshell reading glasses were perched near the end of his nose. Biting back a smile, she thought about what fun she could have had with those glasses ten years ago.

“I can’t agree with you more, sweetheart,” he said as he glanced at the paper in his hands. “But, Penny, I don’t think your mother’s being unfair about your curfew. I—don’t hang up, young lady. Damn—!” He clicked off the phone and placed it firmly on the wall hook.

“Megan, I’m glad you’re here—” His harried expression changed to a blank one the moment he saw who it was. Hesitating, he strained for a look over Rebecca’s shoulder before refocusing on her uniform. “Is this one of your practical jokes?”

Jokes! Maybe this wasn’t her leather miniskirt and combat boots from ten years ago, but she wasn’t naked, either. Brushing back a lock of hair from her forehead, she swallowed hard and reminded herself that she was here to demonstrate the new and improved Rebecca Barnett. Nothing he could say would cause her to become unglued. Her gaze dropped to the opening of his shirt. As for that hairy chest of his…that might take considerably more restraint than she’d prepared for.

“I volunteered for this job when I found out Megan had made plans with her daughter,” she said, aware that that wasn’t exactly how she came to be standing on his doorstep. Lowering her gaze further down the front of him, she felt it melt into a genuine stare when she got to the dark whorl of hair above his navel. Blinking her way out of the hypnotizing sight, she made herself look at his face again. “I had to come back across town, anyway.”