It was the most honest explanation he could give, because, the truth was, he didn’t know. He didn’t know why he wanted to be back in Miss Lane’s class. He didn’t know why she made him feel so off balance, and he didn’t know why she’d cleaned him when he was bleeding.
The one thing he did know was that he’d liked it. He’d liked her doing it and he’d liked her being so close to him. It’d given him a chance to look at her properly. He’d been with many attractive women and seen even more, but there was something different about Miss Lane. She was natural, curvy, wore hardly any makeup, and he was damn sure her tits were what God had given her.
He was a tit man, and they were stellar.
He’d thought about touching them.
Nevertheless, the table incident had put an end to that.
Shit.
His parole officer was going to be pissed.
*
“Good morning, Miss Lane,” Ward offered as Kat approached his desk. He gestured to the chair at the other side.
“Good morning.”
“So,” Ward said, patting his palms on the arms of his seat. “What can I do for you?”
Kat swallowed down her nerves. Straight to it. “I heard that the incident with Carter could affect his application for early parole.”
“There’s no ‘could’ about it,” Ward answered brusquely. “He’s not going anywhere for the next seventeen months. He’ll serve his whole sentence and like it.”
Something in his tone set Kat on edge.
“Yes,” she countered, keeping her voice pleasant. “I understand he has a meeting with his parole officer scheduled soon.”
Ward nodded.
“And I also understand it isn’t just good behavior that can affect the decision of the parole board.” Kat’s eyebrow cocked when she saw the look of surprise washing over Ward’s face.
He sat forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the desk. “Miss Lane, where are you going with this?”
“I’ve taken the liberty of setting up a meeting with Carter’s corrections counselor, Jack Parker, this afternoon and would very much like to speak with his parole officer during her visit. I know either yourself or Jack can arrange that for me—”
Ward held a hand up to stop her. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask again. Where are you going with this, Miss Lane?”
Kat swallowed. “I want to tutor Carter.”
For a moment, Ward was utterly perplexed. “You did,” he countered, “and he’s been removed because it’s apparent to everyone that the two of you don’t get along.”
Kat ignored the sting in his words. “That may be so, but maybe I wasn’t as patient as I should have been with him.” Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. “I want to help him in any way I can.” Her face warmed under Ward’s scrutiny. “I also know he’s banned from all other subjects, too, so his options are minimal. I think that if I can get Carter on a one-to-one, the chances of him losing his temper will significantly reduce.”
Kat had considered this particular point in detail before she entered Ward’s office. The fact that Carter intimidated her students was one of the reasons she had lost her shit with him. If it were just the two of them, it would surely make things better, right?
Ward sat back in his chair, seeming totally mystified. “Miss Lane,” he muttered. “Just to clarify here, you want to tutor Carter … one-to-one … because you want to help him with his application for early parole?”
She smiled widely.
Ward stared at her incredulously. He shook his head. “I can’t allow it.”
“Hmm,” she mused, chewing on the inside of her mouth in annoyance. “Can I ask why?”
He smirked derisively and straightened his shoulders. “I cannot authorize you to be put in a room with Carter alone—”
“There would be a guard,” she interrupted.
Ward exhaled heavily. “Splitting hairs aside, Miss Lane, you’ve been hired by the facility to teach a group of inmates during an allotted time. On a timetable. Not to work as a one-to-one tutor.” He lifted his hands to the heavens in mock sympathy. “It’s not in your contract, and the facility can’t afford to pay you extra for this.”
Kat smiled at Ward, but it was in no way pleasant. She knew he’d take this angle and knew without doubt that it made no difference to her whether she was paid to do the job or not. As a rule, she never spoke about her family’s wealth, as in the past it had made people uncomfortable, but with Anthony Ward, it wouldn’t trouble her one iota. Being the daughter of a successful senator and the granddaughter of another ensured her bank account was always comfortable.
“Mr. Ward,” she began with a wry tone and an unwavering stare that made him shift uneasily in his seat, “I’m not doing this for the money,” she spat at him from behind a tight-lipped smile.