Murder Mayhem and Mama

Laughter erupted.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” She met the detective’s smiling eyes. The man seemed more relaxed in the back of the class than up front. She had a quick vision of how he might have been as a high school student—tough, bad boy, with a string of girls holding their breaths to be noticed. And she would have been part of that string, not that he’d have given her a second look; he wouldn’t have been interested in the sweet, good girl of the class. Hadn’t she been named “the girl most likely to graduate a virgin” in her junior year? And they were right, too.

“Come on, Miss McKay. Don’t lie to us,” Jamie said. “I mean, look at him. He’s kind of hot if you like old dudes.”

Cali couldn’t help but chuckle when Lowell looked appalled.

“And you’re hot,” Jamie said. “You two match.”

“I don’t think so,” Cali said.

“Are you her boyfriend?” Tony swiveled around in his chair to speak to the man in question.

The detective’s expression now twinkled with humor as if he might say something to embarrass her. Or even worse, tell them he was cop.

“We’re just friends,” he said.

The knot in her stomach lessened when he hadn’t told the truth. “Get to work.” She wrote the assignment on the board. After five minutes, she decided to let Tanya know she’d be leaving. She started out, but Lowell caught her hand as she passed. And if the giggling she heard was any indication, at least a dozen of her students noticed.

His touch caused her pulse to sing again and she pulled her fingers from his warm palm.

He leaned closer. “You’re not leaving me alone with them, are you?”

“I’m just going to tell Tanya where I’ll be.”

“What if they go crazy again?” he asked.

“Then control them,” she whispered. She remembered the question Tanya had asked last night. Her gaze cut to his hand. No ring. “You...you’re a cop, for goodness sakes.”

“So I’m allowed to fire a few warning shots, huh?” He grinned.

“You don’t really have a gun. Do you?” she asked.

His brow wrinkled. “Of course, I do.”

She frowned. Maybe she was a little sensitive where guns were concerned, but after seeing her lamp mortally wounded, her feelings were justified. Plus, if anyone spotted his weapon, then they might guess he was here on police business.

“I think you should wait outside,” she said.

He frowned. “I was teasing.”

“I don’t care. I’ll meet you in front of the school when the substitute gets here.”

~

Thirty minutes later, she stepped out of the school and into the crisp fall air. The sun caused her to squint, and the slight muscle reflex did nothing to help her hangover headache. She saw him standing beside the flagpole and started toward him. Something like anticipation bubbled in her chest.

He spotted her and she felt his gaze on her as he headed her way. She watched the way his body moved, even but quick steps that exuded power and confidence. Male confidence—the kind that had her body responding in a purely impure want-that-man kind of manner.

She remembered the condom again and without warning, her gaze lowered to his zipper.

Oh, gracious! Was she really thinking about the size of his penis? It’s the hangover. Had to be the hangover. Her life was a wreck, she so shouldn’t be thinking about sex right now.

“That wasn’t necessary,” he said, probably referring to her asking him to leave the classroom.

“I don’t like guns.” The wind picked up, the flag popped in the air. “I especially don’t like them in my class.”

“I’m a cop, Cali. Nothing was going to happen.” He pressed a hand to her waist. “Come on. I’m parked over here.”

She walked faster to escape his touch. When had he started calling her by her first name? Probably about the same time you started thinking about his penis.

“I’ll follow you in my car.” She took a sharp left.

He caught her arm, gently, his touch soft. “Ride with me.”

“But...” His touch caused her heart to do another somersault.





“I need to talk to you.” His gaze softened and he started moving his thumb in tender little circles on her forearm. “Please.” His tone held so much tenderness and right then so did his eyes.

She relented because she was a sucker for politeness and not because his touch felt good. But just in case, she pulled away from his hand. They continued walking. He stopped at an SUV, opened the passenger door, and waited for her to get in.

A second later, he pulled himself up in the driver’s seat, put the key in the ignition, but didn’t start the engine. He shifted his wide shoulders and looked at her. “I know I’ve been an ass lately. I’ve had . . . a lot on my plate.” He passed a hand over his face. “But that’s not your problem. I’m sorry.”

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