It was Tyler Marek.
The same man who’d danced with me, flirted with me, and told me there was one place where he wouldn’t be careful with me was my student’s parent?
Spinning around, I returned to the front of the room, choosing to ignore him.
I circled my desk and bent down to the open drawer so I could replace the battery in my phone. I didn’t need to bend, but I could feel his eyes following me, and I needed a moment to panic in private.
I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply.
He hadn’t seemed like the type to have a kid when I’d met him before. Had I been wrong? Was he married?
I hadn’t seen a ring on his finger last February at the Mardi Gras ball, but that didn’t mean anything nowadays. Men took them off as easily as they put them on.
What would happen if he recognized me? Thank God I hadn’t slept with him.
I drew in a long breath as I replaced the case on my phone and closed my bag.
Licking my dry lips, I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself to stand the hell up and deal with it.
Straightening my back, I smoothed a hand down my blouse and shirt.
I gathered some of the surveys that parents had filled out and straightened them, setting them in the tray in the corner of my desk.
The other parents and students had already drifted out of the room, and I tensed, seeing his long legs coming to stand in front of my desk.
Tyler Marek.
I’d thought about him. More than I wanted to admit.
However, I’d resisted the urge to Google him for more information, not wanting to indulge my pointless curiosity.
I’d never expected to see him again, much less here.
“I’ve met you before, haven’t I?” he asked, sounding almost sure.
I looked up, chills spreading down my arms at his sharp gaze. He held my eyes, calm and attentive as he waited for his answer.
I swallowed and steeled my shaky smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met, sir.” I held out my hand, hoping whatever memory lapse he was having would be permanent.
Of course, I’d been wearing a mask that night – a pathetic mask but still a mask – so his image of that girl in the red dress might be obscured. Hopefully it would stay that way.
Not that a dance and flirting were scandalous, but it would certainly be awkward.
He shook my hand, and I remembered how those same hands had held my waist, the back of my neck…
He squinted, studying me, and I wanted to sink into a hole, away from his scrutiny, because at any moment he’d remember.
“You seem familiar,” he pushed, not convinced.
“I’m Ms. Bradbury.” I changed the subject, walking around the desk. “Your son and I have already met. I’ll be teaching him US History first period this year.”
And with hopefully only one parent-teacher conference, and then you and I will never have to run into each other again.
It wasn’t that I was embarrassed or scared. I could handle some discomfort.
But this guy had turned me on.
I’d looked back on our interaction often over the past few months. On quiet nights when I’d wanted someone’s hands on me and the only person keeping me company was myself, I’d remembered that dance, his mouth close to mine and his eyes looking down at me.
I’d slept with other people since then, but strangely, he was always where my mind wandered back to when it wanted a fantasy.
And now with him close…
He continued to study me, an eyebrow arched, and I was suddenly nervous. He looked formidable. Not at all as playful as he’d looked that night.
“Christian,” he called to his son. “Come here.”
His son barely looked up from his phone or the video game he played as he walked past us.
“I’ve been here,” he said, anger twisting his voice. “I need something to drink.”
“There’s bottled water by the door,” I instructed, but he just kept walking, leaving the room without another word.
His father’s jaw hardened, and I could tell he was angry.
“Excuse my son,” he apologized. “His mother is away for a year, and he’s a little out of sorts.”
His mother. Not my wife, then.
The air-conditioning poured down from overhead, caressing my face, and I felt it waft lightly against my blouse, cooling the light layer of sweat.
Tyler and I were alone in the room, and I inhaled through my nose, smelling his intoxicating scent, which I could almost taste on my tongue.
I walked around him, toward the papers by the door. “Well, I know you have other classrooms to visit and not much time,” I told him, “so here is a letter explaining my background and plans for the year.” I picked up a single-sided letter off the desk and also a two-page detailed calendar, walking over and handing both to him.
“And there’s also a syllabus with a rundown of dates when tests occur and when papers and projects are due,” I continued as his eyes left mine to peruse the documents.
His eyebrows nose-dived as he studied them.