Three Little Words (Fool's Gold #12)

He felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut by a pack mule. There wasn’t a cell in his body that hadn’t noticed her, and for the first time since high school, he was terrified of getting an erection and embarrassing himself.

Angel started laughing. “Told you,” he said, not bothering to keep his voice down. He walked toward the exit, then paused to yell back, “Be gentle. He’s a civilian.”

Kent swore under his breath.

Consuelo scowled. “He’s annoying and later I’ll punish him.” She shook her head, then looked at Kent. “Hi. I’m not sure we’ve actually met. I’m Consuelo Ly.”

She held out her hand. Kent didn’t want to take it in his. Oh, he wanted to, but he was terrified about what would happen. He thought he could either grab her and try to kiss her or actually ejaculate in his pants. Neither scenario had a positive outcome.

“Kent Hendrix,” he said, then braced himself for the onslaught and shook hands with her.

The second their skin touched, he felt as if he’d been set on fire. The good news was the sudden shock of heat was so intense he wasn’t in danger of getting hard. The bad news was his brain went completely blank and he was relatively sure he’d lost the ability to speak.

“I’ve known Ford for years,” she said, releasing his fingers. She smiled. “I won’t hold that against you.”

He swore silently as the perfection of her smile cut him to the bone. The flash of teeth, the happy crinkle by her eyes, made her even more beautiful.

“Ah, thanks,” he managed.

“You’re Reese’s father, right? He’s a good kid. He has some talent. He and Carter are always trying to do more than they should. Typical for kids their age.” She flashed the smile again. “I would say for boys their age, but you might take offense at that.”

She was nice, he realized. Beautiful and nice. Talk about lethal.

He forced himself to concentrate. “Reese would like to take more classes here. Start training for a black belt. I worry he’s too young. He’s been playing soccer for years now and he’s talking about giving it up.”

Consuelo frowned. “Dumb-ass kid,” she grumbled, then winced. “Sorry. I meant, sometimes students get caught up in the initial excitement of what they’re doing and get overly enthused.”

The realization that she was human, just like everyone else, caused him to relax. He managed a full breath before saying, with pretend concern, “Did you just say ‘dumb-ass kid’?”

“I, uh...”

“Is that how you talk to my son and your other students?”

She raised her chin. “Sometimes. When they need to hear it. Look, Mr. Hendrix, this is a dangerous sport and there has to be complete discipline. I work with military experts and trained assassins. I also work with civilians and every now and then I forget who has delicate sensibilities and who doesn’t. If that gets your panties in a twist, then I’m probably not the best instructor for Reese.”

“My panties in a twist?”

She flushed. “I probably shouldn’t have said that, either.”

“Probably not.”

He folded his arms across his chest, aware that he was much taller than her. Not that it would help him in any kind of altercation. He was a math teacher and she was a... He realized he had no idea what she’d done before she’d moved to Fool’s Gold to work for CDS.

Regardless, he felt a little less out of control.

She looked up at him. “Reese is good. He’s athletic and coordinated. Does he have that incredible talent that comes along once in a generation? No. Sure, he could get his black belt and he probably will. But to give up everything else to focus on this?” She shrugged. “I’d make him wait a year and see if it’s still what he wants to do. Maybe add one more class a week. He’s a kid—he should have fun, not make a lifestyle choice.”

“I appreciate the advice.”

“It’s worth what you paid for.” She shifted on her feet. “Are you mad about what I said?”

“Will you hurt me if I say yes?”

It took her a second to realize he was kidding; then the smile returned. So did the sensation of being kicked in the gut. So much for being in control.

“I’m not good with parents,” she admitted. “I’ve gotten used to saying what I think.”

“Threatening people, and when that doesn’t work, beating the crap out of them?”

The smile broadened. “Exactly. Civilized conversation is highly overrated.”

“I agree. Unfortunately, I don’t have the freedom you do to say what I think.”

As soon as he made the statement, he saw the danger of it. Whatever connection he’d established with her was about to disintegrate like cotton candy in the rain.

She tilted her head and her layered, dark, shiny hair slipped over one shoulder. “You’re a math teacher, right?”

“In high school.”

She laughed softly and then put her hand on his forearm. He felt the heat of her touch clear down to his groin. “You’re far more brave than I could ever be. Teaching teenagers math.”

At least she hadn’t run screaming into another room. “Not just math. Algebra and geometry. Calculus.”