Rebel's Spirit

Cover Page

Excerpt

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Epilogue

Copyright

“In Case You’ve Forgotten, And I’m Sure You Have, My High School Reunion Is Tonight.”

“I know that,” Raleigh said. “Rebecca, I’m sorry—”

“I know, I know. You won’t be able to be my date. Well, we both knew even before our talk that you would have come up with a last-minute excuse not to go with me.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “You’re off the hook.

That’s right. You don’t have to suffer the embarrassment of being caught with Reb Barnett. Sure, a few people know we’ve been seeing each other, but don’t worry. There’s no proof that the girl from the wrong side of the river ever got close to you. No one’s ever claimed that, anyway. And if someone had, who would believe it?” She slammed the door in his face.

Don’t miss the romantic adventures of the otherGIRLS MOST LIKELY TO…coming your wayin 1997—only in Silhouette Desire!

Dear Reader,

Happy holidays from the staff at Silhouette Desire! As you can see by the special cover treatment this month, these books are our holiday gifts to you. And each and every story is so wonderful that I know you’ll want to buy extras to give to your friends!

We begin with Jackie Merritt’s MAN OF THE MONTH, Montana Christmas, which is the conclusion of her spectacular MADE IN MONTANA series. The fun continues with Instant Dad, the final installment in Raye Morgan’s popular series THE BABY SHOWER.

Suzannah Davis’s Gabriel’s Bride is a classic—and sensuous—love story you’re sure to love. And Anne Eames’s delightful writing style is highlighted to perfection in Christmas Elopement. For a story that will make you feel all the warmth and goodwill of the holiday season, don’t miss Kate Little’s Jingle Bell Baby.

And Susan Connell begins a new miniseries—THE GIRLS MOST LIKELY TO…—about three former high school friends who are now all grown up in Rebel’s Spirit. Look for upcoming books in the series in 1997.

Happy holidays and happy reading from

AND THE STAFF OF SILHOUETTE DESIRE

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Rebel’s Spirit

Susan Connell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SUSAN CONNELL

has a love of traveling that has taken her all over the world—Greece, Spain, Portugal, Central and South America, to name just a few places. While working for the foreign service she met a U.S. navy pilot, and eight days later they were engaged. Twenty-one years and several moves later, Susan, her husband, Jim, and daughter, Catherine, call the New Jersey shore home. When she’s not writing, her part-time job at a local bookstore, Mediterranean cooking and traveling with her family are some of her favorite activities. Susan has been honored by New Jersey Romance Writers with their coveted Golden Leaf Award. She loves hearing from her readers.

For Cathy Connell

Thank heaven for little girls, they grow up in the most delightful way…and with the best ideas!

Love, Mom

One

The thrill was back and building in the pit of Rebecca Barnett’s stomach. Maybe the mixing scents of evergreen and chlorinated water had something to do with it, but she hadn’t experienced such heady temptation since high school.

Stepping onto the diving board, she began lowering her towel, then stopped. A chilly breeze against her backside had her gasping with surprise. Was she crazy? She would have sworn she’d put this kind of bad-girl mischief behind her. A twenty-eight-year-old, self-made, successful businesswoman did not engage in these sorts of high jinks.

Clutching her towel closer, she looked down at the shimmering rectangle of bright blue water. Invitation pulsated in every drop. As a tingle of excitement began curling through her body, she felt her shoulders relaxing.

So what if the main reason she’d returned to Follett River was to impress everyone at her high school’s tenyear reunion? That event wouldn’t be taking place for another four weeks. Meanwhile, how often did a girl stumble on an opportunity like this?

Rising up on her toes she strained for a look outside the privacy fence. There was no one in sight.

No one to catch her in the act.

No one would ever know.

She lowered her heels to the roughened surface and bit back a smile.

“Except m-me,” she said as another shiver began shaking her five-foot, eight-inch frame.

True, the unadulterated thrill of a stolen skinny-dip should not be reason enough to brave blustery November temperatures…but it was. And she knew why. This wasn’t just anyone’s swimming pool. Fate had made her the temporary tenant of Show-No-Mercy Hanlon, the nemesis of her senior year.

His Clark Kent appearance notwithstanding, one censoring look from those riveting hazel eyes and Mr. Hanlon had had her trembling with fears she couldn’t even name. She still had to wonder why half the girls in Follett River High had managed to have major crushes on him—the history teacher from Hades. She shook her head. Some things, she guessed, were destined to remain a mystery to her.

Who cared? she thought, raking her fingers through her short, dark hair. She’d just found out that Show-No-Mercy Hanlon, now a professor at the local college, would be out of town until the end of the week. A smug smile of satisfaction was already tugging at her shivering lips. It had taken ten years and a twist of fate, but she was finally going to pull one over on him.

Loosening her towel, she twirled the bright red terry cloth above her head then pitched it over her shoulder. As goose bumps covered her body she could almost hear the raving voices of her old friends.

“Are you crazy, Reb? If Hanlon catches us, we’ll be stuck in detention so long they’ll be putting brass name plates on our chairs!”

Yes, this idea was most likely crazy. Certainly juvenile. But with Christmas just around the corner, even Santa’s reindeer couldn’t have dragged her off this diving board. “This one’s for you, Hanlon!”

Running forward, she kicked up into the chilly autumn air then let loose a bloodcurdling whoop as she cannonballed into the pool. Steeling herself against the numbing cold, she began pulling herself through the water. Only sheer willpower kept her below the surface. The trip to the shallow end was upstream all the way, but that was no surprise. Wasn’t everything in her life?

Raleigh Hanlon heard the shout and splash as he stepped out of his car in the driveway. Prayers and curses shared equal time under his breath as he sprinted for the gate. The old nightmare slamming against his heart was real again. “Hold on!” Why in hell had he put off closing the pool for so long? He riffled through his key ring, dropping it once before he located the right key. “Please, hold on. Dammit, don’t die!”

Jamming the key into the lock, he gave it a hard twist, then kicked open the six-foot wall of wood. As he began struggling out of his jacket he saw the red towel lying behind the diving board and then the dark-haired form in the water. “I’ll get you out. Just take my hand, Buddy. Buddy, take my hand!”

Raleigh’s frantic movements stopped abruptly when a head, then shoulders surfaced at the shallow end. His heart.was still hammering against his rib cage as he slumped against the fence. The whole business was a prank. A thoughtless, irresponsible prank. Anger welled where seconds before sheer terror had ruled. He was getting too damn old for this.

Pushing off the fence, he opened his mouth to speak. A split second later the intruder stood, stark naked and facing away from him. Raleigh slowly closed his mouth. His need to chastise vanished as he took in the sight before him. The incident might have “high school prank” written all over it, but she certainly didn’t.

The slim brunette’s womanly form glistened as if it were a live pink statue. Liquid light sparkled at her shoulders, played near the indentation of her spine and reflected off the pleasantly defined muscles in her back. His gaze dropped to where gentle wavelets were splashing against her firm bottom. The sight almost made up for the unfortunate placement of the pool which had her at the far end and facing away from him.

As he kept his gaze fixed to her backside he felt an undeniable tug of pure male awareness. Or was it recognition? Did he know her? He dragged his hand along his jaw as the need to call out to have her explain her presence slipped farther back in his mind.

When she pressed her thumbs against the sleek curves of her hips, all his righteous questions began disappearing from his head. Who cared how she’d gotten into the locked pool area? Who cared why she’d chosen his pool? Whoever she was, she was alive and presenting an admirable case for voyeurism. Dripping with a dangerous mixture of innocence and eroticism, she made every fantasy he’d ever had pale next to her reality.

As another revelation hit him, he shook his head. He’d spent his adult life teaching history, and only this moment did he finally understand how men could fight great wars over beauty such as this.

Right now he was waging war within himself. Should he continue to stare, or was it time to speak up? A smile pulled at his mouth when she laughed out loud then smacked the surface.

As he considered his dilemma further she let out an impassioned “Gotcha!” then leaned back into the water.

His heart thumped as he caught a glimpse of tightened pink nipples, an expanse of smooth, pale flesh and a neat triangle of dark hair at the apex of her thighs. Then water ribboned over her, distorting her perfection to a surreal dreamscape where fantasies melted and only heroic efforts could retrieve them.

He shoved an uneasy hand through his hair as memories of Buddy rushed in. He was no hero, he reminded himself. Hell, he couldn’t even keep a naked woman out of his pool.

Impatience over the battling images got the better of him; he didn’t suffer fools lightly, especially himself. His gaze circled the pool area, then landed back on the form moving through the water. He might be waking up in a hot sweat at three in the morning over this vision, but she’d be gone by then. Sent on her way with a stern warning he was already composing in his mind.

Judging the finishing point of her underwater swim, he walked down the landscaped steps to it and waited at the end of the pool until she came to him.

One last, languid stroke brought her to the surface. And there it was again. Even with her eyes shut and water streaming over her face and hair, he had an even stronger feeling that he knew her. Before he could place her, she was reaching up then closing her fingers over the top of his shoe. Her gracefully athletic move to haul herself out ended abruptly as she twisted her head to look up at him.

“You!” she said, releasing her grip. Sputtering, she dropped below the surface. A second later she came up clutching for the pool edge and shoving wet hair from her eyes. Eyes he’d seen before. Eyes filled with fear…or was that indignation? He cocked his head as a flashback jolted through his consciousness.

Struggling to catch her breath, she locked gazes with him. “You’re not supposed to be back until the weekend. W-what are you doing here?”

Indignation. Definitely indignation. “What am I doing here? This is my property. The question is, what are you doing here?”

Her mascara had smudged below her eyes, making them somehow bluer and wider and more vulnerable than he was sure she would want them to appear. She blinked, and the water beading on her lashes plopped onto her cheekbones.

“I’ve moved into Alan’s apartment.” Her gaze never left his as she pointed toward the garage.

“He never mentioned subletting. When did you talk to him about moving in?”

“I didn’t. I talked to his sister. Megan said Alan would be away for the next six weeks and that you probably wouldn’t mind if I took the place for, uh…“ She stopped to lick a drop of water from her lips.

He felt his stern expression dissolving as his gaze riveted to where she was pressing her tongue. The tip glistened warm and pink in the late-afternoon light before she drew it slowly into her mouth again. The guileless gesture caught him off guard, causing a distinct stirring in the region of his groin. Her bare shoulders, high cheekbones and slicked-back hair, against that background of blue water, reminded him of a travel poster he’d seen for Tahiti. But this was November in New Jersey. Instead of orchids, the water around his lovely, but foolhardy, intruder was decorated with ripples from the wind. None of that mattered; she was easily the most exotic creature he’d ever seen.

“You were saying, Miss…?” he asked as he watched the water lapping against her shoulders. When he heard his monotoned voice he knew he should be pulling himself out of the sensual haze he’d wandered into, but the struggle just didn’t seem worth it. The movement of that bright blue water against her lightly tanned shoulders was drawing him back to the scene a few minutes ago when water was splashing against her bottom. That firm yet lush posterior that set off bells inside his head. And a need to pull at the knot in his tie as the scene settled into his consciousness. He dragged a finger across his mouth to hide his dry swallow, then shoved both hands in his pockets.

Resting against the pool wall, the woman positioned her chin on her stacked fists on the inside edge. “Tsk, tsk. I can’t believe, after all we went through, that you would forget me so easily.”

He narrowed his eyes as he fought back a wave of uneasiness. Although he’d never gone long without the touch of a woman, he wasn’t one to indulge in lost weekends with them, either, so that possibility was out. But somewhere in time they’d shared an emotional moment or two. He rolled his eyes at her killer grin. When she turned it full force on him, suddenly it was the only thing he could think about. That and the relentless way she kept staring at him. She was a stubborn one all right. Flexing his knees, he frowned. Stubborn? Where had that stray thought come from? If he had to describe her he’d use words like charming. Delightful. Desirable. Mysterious. Definitely mysterious. No, he didn’t remember her but he sure as hell would like to.

Shrugging, he gave her a help-me-out-here scowl. “I’m trying.”

“Well, try harder…Mr. Hanlon,” she said, raising her chin in a half-challenging, half-amused move.

He had to hand it to her. Most people would not have put up with his brusque manner, but she appeared to be feasting on it. Whoever she was, she had confidence to spare. And a directness that suggested the teasing light in her eyes wasn’t simply a manifestation of her good humor.

“Let’s see,” he said, as the playful moment resonated with erotic overtones. “Would this memory I’m attempting to retrieve involve clothing?”

Her unrestrained laughter had him smiling.

“It’s my hair.”

He squinted. He was more confused than ever. He would have sworn “it” was her bottom. He had the distinct feeling he’d seen that flawless, neatly rounded, slim-hipped backside before. Or maybe he’d only imagined a tush as perfect as hers, but he wouldn’t bet his tenure on it. “Your hair?” He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s your hair.”

She reached to pull a few wet locks upward off her forehead. “I used to have it blond and spiked up on top.”

Blond. Spiked on top. Raleigh looked at her hair and then her face. He drew in half a breath through his parted lips before the haze cleared and the earth shuddered to a stop. Cold prickles tumbled down his back. He slowly pulled his hands from his pockets. No. She couldn’t be. He closed his eyes then dragged his hands over his face before he looked at her again. There it was, that wide-eyed, too-innocent smile. Air rushed from his lungs in a tortured groan.

The hair was different, the voice a little deeper, but her eyes hadn’t changed. Big, blue and deceptively innocent…until it appeared she would never blink them. But back then he’d made it his business to make her blink. Those thickly fringed, brazen blue eyes that had challenged his sanity more times than he could count, belonged to the bane of his high school teaching career. So what if ten years had passed…he’d just been ogling one of his students. And not just any student! “Rebecca Barnett.”

Her laughter shot through him like a well-aimed tickle, charging along nerve endings and into places it had no business going. It took effort not to smile at her genuine delight, but he was a master at disguising his emotions. Unfortunately he couldn’t do anything about the unbidden and entirely unwelcomed thrill coursing through him.

Who knew where she could have taken this moment, if he hadn’t figured out who she was? Lord help him. Who knew where he would have allowed, or worse, encouraged her to take it? He swallowed hard as several interesting possibilities burgeoned into his consciousness. Heat continued building in his groin, testing the limits of his well-practiced composure. How long had it been since he’d indulged himself with ideas as wild as those?

Irritation suddenly got the better of him. Smoothing his palms along his thighs, he felt his nostrils flare.

“Still the same old games, Miss Barnett?” he asked, knowing full well that no matter what had just transpired, there had never been a hint of flirtation in their dealings as teacher and student.

Her laughter dissolved to a stunned look that grabbed at his gut. The playful light drained from her eyes and with it the easiness she’d brought to the encounter. He deserved a swift kick for that stupid remark.

“You know, you could have slipped on the diving board or hit your head on the bottom,” he said, softening his tone as he lowered himself to his haunches. He laced his fingers together then let his hands dangle by the juncture of his thighs while he waited for her response.

Whether it was a wayward moment of guilt or the beginning step in a slow waltz of seduction, her gaze dropped to his wing tip shoes before traveling slowly to his mouth and then his eyes. She looked at him so long he began to think he was the one in danger of drowning.

“Christmas is coming. Where’s your holiday spirit?” she asked, breaking the stare as she plowed more hair from her forehead.

The action caused a generous portion of her breasts to rise out of the water. He caught sight of the tight and tempting twin rosettes of flesh before she repositioned her body against the wall of the pool. Too late; he was already remembering the pale expanse of her belly, the dark thatch below and the sensations they’d caused in him.

He rubbed at his brow with his thumbnail as he tried to locate one cell in his body that wasn’t being affected by her. Although Rebecca Barnett had never been easy to reason with in her high school days, at least she hadn’t complicated their exchanges with enough sexual sparks to blow up the high school. Pursing his lips in a thoughtful manner, he drew on his dominant role as teacher.

“If I remember correctly, you usually pulled these stunts with a few friends in tow.”

Twisting on the balls of his feet, he looked toward the gate, more to keep his gaze from tracing her delicate collarbone and the soft swells beneath it than to search for anyone else.

“So tell me, Miss Barnett, are we to expect another naked swimmer here anytime soon?”

From the corner of his eye he detected a slight change in her posture, a definite reangling of her chin and, finally, a lowering sweep of her lashes. His heart sank with the knowledge that he’d set something off inside her. A move he was sure he was going to regret.

In a voice thick with smoke and honey, she purred, “Not unless you’re volunteering, Mr. Hanlon.”

His gaze shot straight to hers. Everything he’d been trying not to think about poured into his mind and spilled over into his body. The moment hung hot and heavy between them until she had the grace to look away first. She scratched at the side of her nose.

“Oops. Am I getting detention for that one?”

Bracing his hands on his knees, he stood up. “Not this week,” he said, going along with the joke because there was no way he couldn’t.

The days were long gone when he could deal with her mischief by banishing her to detention. So were the days when he viewed her as a pretty, pain-in-the-butt teenager, a rebellious spirit who provoked him and the rest of the high school faculty as often as she could. Her selfconfidence remained, though, tempered by ten years of experiences he couldn’t begin to guess at. Except that those ten years had closed a gap between student and teacher. He went for her towel then took it to the side ladder.

“Am I getting evicted?” she asked, her body still hugging the wall as she pulled herself along the edge toward the ladder.

He draped the towel over the curved rail then turned to look at her.

“Not yet,” he said in the threateningly quiet tone he used with his college students. Professorial intimidation usually put a stop to any of their shenanigans, but Rebecca Barnett’s next teasing question told him, she wasn’t buying it.

“Am I getting to you, Mr. Hanlon?”

He stepped closer to the edge. “Miss Barnett,” he said, hoping to sound as dismissive as possible. “I assume by the looks of things that this mischief is a oneshot deal.”

“Unless you’ve got a pool heater, I—”

“I don’t,” he said, leaning forward and planting his hands on his knees, this time to bring his face closer to hers. “The game’s over. Let’s call this a draw. Your lips are turning blue.”

She pressed her collarbone closer to the wall and rolled her eyes. “That’s not all that’s turning blue,” she said, before scrinching up her mouth in an exaggerated frown.

He looked away, not daring to allow his stare to stray to those buttocks he’d been admiring a few minutes ago.

“To answer your original question, I’m back in town early because I’m having a faculty get-together tonight. If you’re planning to stay down here much longer I would appreciate it if you didn’t walk by my windows naked on your way upstairs.”

She batted her lashes at him. “Why is that?”

“Because…Dean Callahan has a heart condition.” He turned to go, hoping to make a swift and decisive exit before he made a complete fool of himself. Not too fast, not too slow. A normal pace, as if he were leaving his lecture hall. Then he heard the rush of disturbed water and pictured her climbing out of the pool. The five remaining steps up to the gate turned into the longest walk of his life.

“Mr. Hanlon. Wait up.”

“We can finish this conversation later.” As his hand closed over the gate handle, he heard her bare feet slapping against cement. “Don’t run!” Or I might have to look at you completely naked. No pool wall, no distortion from the water. Just perfectly and lusciously naked. Naked enough to blow my plan to treat you like the rebellious seventeen-year-old student you insist on playing.