Susan Connell - Rebel's Spirit

As he braced a hand on the mantel and worried over his paper, she folded her arms, leaned her shoulder against the doorjamb and quietly sighed. Who the heck was she kidding? Raleigh Hanlon was the best-looking man she’d ever laid eyes on. And there he was, in his leather-bound, gold-stamped library, so absorbed in his professorial studies that he didn’t even sense her presence.

Angling her head into the room, she strained to take in his floor-to-ceiling, book-lined shelves, his leather wing chair with the worn spot where he rested his head, and his framed degrees and certificates filling half a wall. Masculinely appointed, impressively erudite and with a tried-and-true sense of permanency, the room appeared to be a perfect representation of the man standing in it. And just as awesome to her.

She nibbled on her lip as that unwelcome sense of inadequacy sent a cold tentacle to her stomach. Before the feeling took a stronger hold, she stood up and lifted her chin. Even if her poor high school performance had kept her out of college, over the last ten years, through hard work and pure determination, she had managed to achieve just about everything else she’d wanted in her life. She had nothing to be ashamed of.

“I set aside a piece of cake for you,” she impulsively announced.

Against the Bach playing in the background, her voice sounded like a carnival barker’s. She was certain Raleigh thought the same when he removed his glasses and looked up at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. Or maybe that look was meant for something else? Had she splashed the cranberry punch on her clothes? Had they fallen off? What was wrong?

The crackling flames in the fireplace were the only sounds she heard above her pounding heartbeat. And then he smiled. That funny, forgiving kind of smile that said everything was all right. The kind of smile she’d never seen on Show-No-Mercy Hanlon.

“Which cake?” he asked.

“The one you were sniffing,” she said, relaxing enough to notice his shirt was finally buttoned and his tie knotted. “The hazelnut with the Frangelico frosting.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding slowly. “You don’t miss much.”

She smiled back as she let her gaze wander the room again. This time the place didn’t feel as threatening. “Where’s your Christmas tree?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your Christmas tree? The ceramic angels on the mantel? The candles in the windows?” Pointing upward she added, “The mistletoe? Megan said this was the first holiday party of the season, but it’s hard to tell you’ve looked at the calendar.”

He looked around before giving her a halfhearted scowl. “Isn’t that poinsettia enough?”

She scowled back. “No,” she said and they both laughed. As the sound died he kept on looking at her. When she didn’t say anything, he slid on his reading glasses and lifted up his paper.

“That must be some interesting paper,” she said, grasping at the mundane comment because she was already missing the moment they’d shared.

He brushed a piece of lint from the top of his pant leg then looked at her again. “I’m sure you wouldn’t find it very interesting.”

She forced a smile to cover the raw sting of his words. Was it so obvious to him that she hadn’t furthered her formal education? “Maybe I would. Try me.”

“Have you studied the history of the Incas?”

“Well, not formally,” she said, raking her fingers through her hair. Why were her palms sweating? He wasn’t giving her a test on the subject, but if he were, she would probably pass the darn thing with flying colors.

“Not formally?” he repeated, motioning for her to come in and take the chair by the fire. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve read a bit on my own,” she said, wondering if she should tell him how many hours she’d studied preColumbian history before leading a tour group through the ruins at Machu Picchu and the archaeological dig site on the northwest coast of Peru. The last thing she wanted to do was sound as if she were bragging, or worse, defending herself.

Raleigh raised a brow as he watched her enter the room. “Amazing. When you were my student I practically had to glue a history book in your hands in order to get you to read it.”

“That’s a good ten years in the past.”

Slowing her steps and her words, she stopped at the sofa table. As she reached down to it, Raleigh remembered what he’d left there. The yearbook of her graduating class was lying wide open to the page with her photo.

Her gaze, accompanied by a slow grin, darted up to him then back down again. “But I guess history professors have been known to spend a little time poking around in the past.”

As she picked up the book, he turned away to check his watch. Fifteen minutes to eight. If he hadn’t spent time poring over Rebecca’s yearbook this afternoon he would have finished his work, he thought, going to his desk and dropping the paper into a drawer. But he had looked at the yearbook, and the rest of his day had been filled with thoughts about her. Thoughts leading to questions. Crazy questions that kept on coming when he pictured her naked in the pool, then standing beside him in that towel.

He looked over at her now, quietly smiling as she thumbed through the pages. She looked so…grown-up. He snorted softly. Maybe she was, but that didn’t stop the questions he’d been thinking about all afternoon.

What in hell made you pull those crazy stunts in high school? Was I too hard on you? Wasn’t I hard enough? How many hearts have you broken? What’s happened to you since then? hat’s happened to me? And when did you turn into such a beautiful woman?

“Raleigh, why did you have this opened to my—?” she began at the same moment the doorbell rang.

He looked at her expectant expression as the doorbell sounded again, along with the telephone. The outward composure he’d been perfecting for the past eighteen years clicked into place.

“Would you mind getting the door and showing whoever it is into the library?” he asked, as he walked past her into the dining room. Picking up the plate of sliced cake she’d left for him, he added, “I’ll take the phone in the kitchen.”

Five minutes later Raleigh hung up. As Penny had railed on with her latest litany of teenage complaints, he’d found that his thoughts had kept wandering back to Rebecca. She’d been Penny’s age when she was his student. He shook his head. Penny’s age, for godsake.

Taking his jacket from where he’d tossed it, he remembered the way Rebecca had looked in it. Even though the salt-and-pepper tweed was sizes too big for her, he couldn’t say she looked exactly childlike wearing it that afternoon. And when she’d bent down to catch her towel…The distinct tugging sensation in his manhood had him swallowing dry. He quickly shrugged on the jacket then straightened his tie. He had guests waiting.

Picking up the cake she’d sliced for him, he dragged two fingers through the frosting, then plunged them into his mouth to lick them clean. Laughing at himself for the outlandish thoughts he’d been having about Rebecca, he lifted the whole slice from the plate and took a bite.

She’d once been capable of getting under his skin, but that was strictly sophomoric and a long time ago. She wouldn’t be doing that again; he wouldn’t let her. Shoving another bite into his mouth, he closed his eyes and savored the delicate flavor. Hell, he must have been crazy there for a few hours. He was years older than Rebecca, and, just as important, she was years younger than him. Coupled with their history, anything remotely…adult was laughable.

As he reached to open the dining room door, Rebecca opened it from the other side. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair was slightly mussed and her high spirits a nearly tangible force. The beguiling sight almost made him forget his reassessment.