“This is killing me, Cricket,” he whispered

He put his other hand to her cheek, cupping her face in both hands now.

You mean the you-know?” she asked.

“Yes,” Tucker said, tilting his head. “We can’t do this.” He moved in.

“No, we can’t,” she said, standing on her toes, tipping up her mouth. It was as if some terrific force field pulled them together.

“This would be bad.”

“I know,” she said, moving closer. “Very bad.” As desperate as she was for his mouth, for that hot, dissolving feeling, she would not be the one who kissed first. She couldn’t be. He was married. Unhappily, according to his wife, but still. He had to be the one to make the first move.

He wouldn’t do it, she saw.

But she definitely would. With that thought, she grabbed his face and pulled his lips to hers.

Dear Reader,

Cricket and Tucker’s story is dear to me because it’s set in a school. As a former teacher, I felt as though I was living and breathing Copper Corners High on every page I wrote. I even started to have teacher anxiety dreams—you know, where it’s the end of the year and you realize you’ve forgotten to teach reading to your second graders? Needless to say, I related to Cricket’s idealism and her insecurity about teaching, which is a very difficult job.

What I love about Cricket and Tucker is how much they want to do the right thing, even when they are doing it all wrong. Ever been there? Had good intentions, but fouled up anyway? For these two, the issue is being honest with themselves about who they are and what they really want. They have so much heart and so much passion for each other and their work. Just thinking about them makes me sigh. These two really got to me. I hold their story close to my heart. I hope they get to you, too.

I’d love to hear from you! Write me at dawn@dawnatkins.com. For news of upcoming books, please drop by my Web site, www.dawnatkins.com.

My very best to you,

Dawn Atkins

Books by Dawn Atkins

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

871—THE COWBOY FLING

895—LIPSTICK ON HIS COLLAR

945—ROOM…BUT NOT BORED!

HARLEQUIN BLAZE

93—FRIENDLY PERSUASION

HARLEQUIN DUETS

77—ANCHOR THAT MAN!

91—WEDDING FOR ONE/TATTOO FOR TWO

HARLEQUIN FLIPSIDE

11—A PERFECT LIFE?

Wilde for You

Dawn Atkins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To the dedicated teachers of Arizona, who daily make a difference. You humble me.

Acknowledgments

I wish to thank Jenn MacColl, whose rain-forest classroom inspired me to write Cricket’s story. Jenn, an accomplished teacher, shares Cricket’s absolute commitment to her students. Jenn, my son and I thank you. I also want to thank all the teachers in my life—past and present. You do indeed touch the future. The endangered-owl controversy in this book is fictional, although pygmy owls are, in fact, endangered and live only in southern Arizona and northern Mexico.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

1

IF HE GOT THE JOB, he’d forget women, Tucker Manning vowed, soaping up in the shower. He would be absolutely dedicated. Completely committed. No distractions. No hobbies. No sidetracks.

And no women.

He scrubbed his face, then shoved it under the spray to rinse. Steam rose around him, hot as his conviction.

He needed this job—assistant principal at Copper Corners High—if he was ever to get the one he’d lost.

Lost because of a moment of insanity with a woman who reminded him of someone he couldn’t forget. A moment witnessed by three members of the freshman girls’ volleyball team, who’d stumbled on him and Melissa in the equipment room…on the vault bench…working out…of their clothes.

Who knew the girls practiced so late?

So, if he got this job, no more women. He scrubbed between his toes, hot water peppering his back, the shower air lush and thick as a jungle.

“Tuuuuck-er, I’m lonely,” Julie, the woman he’d been seeing for the last month, called to him. He sighed, letting the water sluice down his body. Okay, maybe one more woman. Except she lived here—Phoenix—over two hours away from Copper Corners, which was barely a cactus clump off the highway south of Tucson. If he was truly dedicated, he’d have no time for road trips. Or Julie.

He’d stay nose to the grindstone. Just for the two or three years he had to wait for another chance at the position at Western Sun High, when the guy who’d gotten the job retired.

He needed that time to prove to Ben Alton, the principal and his friend, that he had what it took to be a good administrator. An administrator who knew how to keep his head on straight…and his zipper zipped.

The turndown still stung. Tucker hated to lose, but, worse, he’d let Ben down—disappointed the man who’d turned him around back when Tuck was in high school.

The whole reason Tucker had come back to Western Sun with his English degree from the University of Arizona was to work for Ben, who’d become the principal and been given the difficult task of guiding the school through the growing pains that came with a changing neighborhood. Once on the faculty, Tucker had started on his administrator credential, so he could work side by side with his mentor.

For the three years he’d been at Western Sun, he’d been busy—volunteering for curriculum committees, serving as English department chair and as a union rep—and he was liked by students and faculty alike.

But at the end of the interview for the vice principal job, Ben had told him no. Your heart’s in the right place, Tuck. Folks like you, but they don’t think you take the work seriously. You’re young.

He’d been stunned. He’d argued—pointed out all he’d accomplished and that age was irrelevant to talent—until the truth had dawned on him that it was the thing with Melissa.

That didn’t help, Ben had admitted. And I’d be playing favorites to hire you in spite of it.

Tuck had assured him it was a one-time occurrence, despite the gossip. I have not, quote, been with every female I could get into an empty closet. Melissa was special…and I was just…we were only…okay, it was a bad idea, but it was after hours and we had our clothes on.

Though belts and zippers had been in motion when the three volleyballers bounded into the room to gape and gasp at Tucker and Melissa putting the horse vault bench to uses for which it was never intended.

The one good thing was that Melissa had been more amused than embarrassed by the incident, for which he’d taken full responsibility.

Tuck understood Ben’s decision, disappointed though he was. The top job for an assistant principal was student discipline, so being respected was crucial. The make-out incident had made him the butt of too many jokes for much respect to remain.

Ben had put in a good word for him with Harvey Winfield, the principal at Copper Corners High—a friend of a friend from Ben’s Ph.D. program. A small school would be great experience, Ben claimed, since the principal and the assistant shared most duties, instead of having distinct tasks like at Western Sun, where Ben had two assistants, each with different responsibilities.

After Tuck had a few good years at Copper Corners, some accomplishments and professional maturity to tout, Ben would feel comfortable hiring him. And Tucker wanted that. Bad. Because of Ben, of course. And because he’d be damned if he’d be chased out by one mistake and the rumor mill. He’d be back. No question.

And the road back ran straight through Copper Corners, Arizona.

Tucker ran the scrubber over his back, then turned to take in a mouthful of water to gargle and spit.

The interview had gone well, and he’d liked Harvey, who reminded him of his own grandfather—quiet and old-fashioned. Gruff, but with a big heart.

He leaned forward, fingers flat on the black-and-white checkered tile, water falling over his head and neck, and remembered Ben’s final comment. If you get the job, behave yourself, he’d said, as if Tuck were an errant child. There are no secrets in a small town. You buy a pack of condoms and everyone will know whether they’re ribbed or smooth.

That wasn’t fair. The incident with Melissa had been unusual. She’d reminded him of a girl he’d had a major thing for in college—Cricket. Cricket what? He didn’t even know her last name. She’d been Sylvia’s roommate. One night senior year, right before Christmas break, while he’d waited for Sylvia to show up at her apartment, he and Cricket had shared a beer, an intense conversation and, once it became clear Sylvia had stood him up, the hottest make-out session he’d experienced. Ever, now that he thought about it.

Melissa had the same kind of fire and attitude as Cricket. She kind of smelled like her, too—sweet and spicy and all woman—and when she came on to him after a curriculum meeting, he’d lost his head. And, as a result, the job he was meant for.

He’d known better, too. He’d been wild in high school and from time to time fought the urge to just blow off responsibility, go with his impulses and play 24/7. Maybe that had shown in his work at Western Sun. He’d had fun with his students, but that didn’t mean he didn’t take teaching seriously. Worse, he had the uncomfortable sense that Ben was among those who thought he wasn’t serious enough to be a good administrator.

They had him wrong, dammit, Tuck thought, smearing green shampoo into his hair and scrubbing hard. And twenty-six was plenty old enough to know what mattered.

If he got the Copper Corners job, he’d watch his every step. The best way to handle temptation was to avoid it, and he was sure Copper Corners would offer few distractions. Rural towns had trouble attracting teachers anyway, and young, single people gravitated to cities for the social life.

He scrubbed his hair, wondering if Harvey Winfield had liked him as much as he’d seemed to. There were other candidates for the job, he knew, but they couldn’t possibly want it as much as Tuck did.

“Tucker!” Julie yelled from the bedroom.

He tipped his head back and shouted upward, “I’ll be right out.”

Seconds later, though, the shower door opened and a naked Julie held one hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. God, she was gorgeous. He’d pull her into the water for a wet adventure after this call….

“It’s the principal at that school,” she whispered, grinning. “I told him how excited you were about the job.”

He took the phone. “Harvey?” he said, hopping out of the stall to clutch a towel to his groin. The man couldn’t see through the phone, but Tuck felt damned unprofessional standing there naked. “Good to hear from—”

The shampoo-slick phone slipped out of his hand and hit the floor. Julie bent for it and thrust it at him in time for him to hear Harvey say, “…but after speaking to Julie just now, I’ve decided to go with my instincts.”

“What was that?” he said. “I dropped the phone.”

“What I said was that I called to ask a few follow-up questions in case my top candidates declined, but after speaking to Julie I changed my mind. Will you take the job, Tucker? I have a good feeling about you.”

“I’d be honored,” he said quickly.

Julie gave him a thumbs-up and did a silent happy dance, naked and gorgeous, then mouthed, “Breakfast,” and bounced out of the room.

He’d gotten the job. Thank God. Except he hadn’t been first choice. Not until Julie said something that changed Harvey’s mind. What the hell had she said?

“I’m glad to hear that, Tucker,” Harvey said. “I had two fellows with more experience in line—both with excellent references and both from small towns, which is a definite advantage. But knowing that you’re married—and to such a supportive woman—I felt comfortable going with my gut reaction…which was to hire you. You’re hungry. You’re smart. You’re serious.”

“Knowing that I’m…what?” At that moment, a blob of shampoo dropped into Tucker’s eye. Blinking against the sting, he braced the phone with his shoulder and wiped at the shampoo with his hand, but that made it burn worse.

“It’s not kosher to ask in the interview, of course,” Harvey was saying while Tucker lunged for the sink. The man thought Julie was his wife? How had that happened? Julie had answered the phone at seven-thirty in the morning, for one thing, and raved about him, so of course Harvey had assumed…

“Sure,” Tucker said, splashing water into his eye, “but I’m afraid Julie isn’t—” The phone slipped out of his fingers again. He grabbed it up, his eyes still burning, in time to hear Harvey say, “—just so very important, Tucker. My last assistant—a single guy—was more interested in the Tucson nightlife than in school business. So it just didn’t work out.”

“I can understand that,” he said, fumbling for a towel, one eye closed, “but, you see, I’m not really—”

Married. I’m not married. That was what he intended to say, except his heel skidded on wet tile and he hit the floor with a smack, the butt pain much worse than the eye burn.

“Tucker? You there?” Harvey said. “What were you saying?”

“I’m here. Just lost my balance.” And all sense of reality. “I was saying that I’m not really….”

Through his pain, a vital fact came into his mind: Harvey had better candidates. Two of them. Both more experienced, both from small towns, both married. And politically correct or not, Harvey wanted a married assistant. Being married to a supportive wife was what had gotten Tuck the job offer.

“It’s that I’m not…” Tucker had to say something about being a dedicated single guy, but the specter of the Melissa incident rose in his mind. Would Harvey think he was a player? Women hopping in and out of his bed all the time? He wanted to start out on the right foot. This wasn’t the way.

“…sure about the housing situation,” he heard himself finish, buying time.

“Plenty of rental homes, Tucker. Bring Julie down this weekend and you can find something. I know you see yourself back in Phoenix eventually, but our little town is pretty special. Great place to raise a family, too.”

Every second that passed without Tucker correcting the mistake made things worse, he knew, but Harvey was on a roll. “Around here, neighbors help each other. And get in each other’s business, of course, but that’s two sides of a valuable coin.”

The connection went dead for a second.

“There’s that damnable click,” Harvey said. “This call-waiting business my wife got us into is quite the annoyance. I’d better see who it is. Put the back-to-school faculty potluck on your calendar. In the gym on the first, 6:30 p.m. Looking forward to meeting Julie.”

“Thanks, Harvey, but I—”

“Welcome on board, Tucker.” And he hung up.

Tuck turned off his phone and sat there on the floor, his back against the tile, his butt aching, his eye running with tears. Now what?

“LET ME GET THIS straight,” Tuck’s sister-in-law Anna said to him that evening. “You told the principal you were married?”

“No. He assumed it when Julie answered the phone and told him how excited I was about the job. She was trying to be helpful.”

Tucker had tried to call Harvey back, as soon as he’d gotten off the floor and tracked down the Winfield number, but had only been connected to voice mail. For hours. He wasn’t about to leave an “April fool! I’m not really married” message on the answering machine. In the meantime, he wanted his brother and sister-in-law’s take on what had happened. Plus, he needed a dose of his three-year-old nephews, Steven and Stewart, who never failed to cheer him up.

“We’re buck nek-ked,” Steven chortled, jumping off the ottoman. The boys were fresh from their bath and, in theory, headed for bed.

“Get over here, you slippery seal,” Anna said, lunging at Steven. She held Stewart by one arm. “Grab him, Forest.”

“You’re mine, bucko.” Tuck’s brother Forest scooped up the bath-pink elf who was older than his twin by ten minutes. Tuck loved the hurly-burly at Forest and Anna’s. He loved roughhousing with his nephews, and in a minute, he’d get the privilege of reading them their bedtime story.

With Stewart in a football hold, Anna plopped onto the sofa beside Tuck. “So, why didn’t you correct him?”

“I tried, but he kept talking. I’d fallen on my ass and was in pain with shampoo in my eyes. Hell, he offered me the job because he thought I was married. I was trying to figure out what to say when he had to take a call and hung up.”

“So, call him back,” Anna said, managing to get Stewart’s squirming leg into one side of his pajama bottoms.

“I tried. Voice mail. Now I’ll sound like an idiot. ‘Oh, gee, I forgot I wasn’t married.’”

“Tell him that when you fell, you hit your head and got temporary amnesia, but now you remember that you’re actually a babe hound.”

“I’m no babe hound.”

“What’s the big deal about being married anyway? He better not discriminate against single people. That’s an EEOC violation if I ever heard one.”

“He’s worried that a single guy would be bored in Copper Corners. The assistant before me spent too much time chasing women, I guess. Winfield wants someone who’ll focus on work, not women.”

“How ’bout both? Isn’t that your specialty? Having sex at work. Much more efficient.”

He groaned. He regretted telling Anna and Forest about the Melissa incident more every time Anna brought it up, which was every time he came over, which was often. He loved his sister-in-law, but she was mouthy and opinionated and bossy as hell. His brother worshiped her, though, and that was what mattered.

“I even asked Julie if she’d consider a trip to Vegas…you know, take in a show, do some gambling, swing by a wedding chapel.”

Anna stopped, leaving Stewart covered by his pajama top like a superhero-decorated ghost. “You’re serious about Julie?” She blinked at him, mouth open, visions of wedding plans glowing in her eyes.

“No. I was joking, though it panicked the hell out of her and now we’re pretty much over with.”

Anna sighed. “I knew it. You’ll never settle down.”

“Where’s Stewart? Where can he be?” Stewart’s muffled voice came from beneath his clothes.

Anna tugged downward on her son’s shirt so his head popped out.

“Peekaboo!” he shrieked.

“Peekaboo, sweetie,” she said halfheartedly.

“Sure I will,” Tuck insisted. “When I’m ready.”

“When the moon is blue and my aunt’s an acrobat.”

“When I find the right woman.”

“You wouldn’t know the right woman if she had your name tattooed in a heart on her butt.”

“You said butt, Mommy. Umm.”

“Special occasion,” Anna said.

Forest leaned down to drop his damp cargo next to Anna to be dressed. “Don’t be so hard on him, Anna. Women as great as you don’t grow on trees.” Forest kissed his wife and their eyes met with warmth.

They were good together. They’d married young—nineteen—and Tuck had feared Forest was scrambling to find something stable after their parents’ divorce, but Anna turned out to be perfect for him. In fact, Tucker hoped one day to have the kind of relationship Forest had with his wife—an easy affection, mutual respect and lots of laughter, all built on a bedrock of love.

Except Tucker wanted a woman more like himself than Anna was like Forest. Someone more cooperative, more of a partner, who wouldn’t argue every issue into the ground like Anna did with Forest.

Once he was back in Phoenix and got his career on track at Western Sun, Tucker would look for someone. He’d be ready then.

“So, now what are you going to do?” Anna said to Tuck. “Tell the principal that you got a divorce?”

“Tell him it was a mistake, I guess. But why would I lie like that? I’ll seem creepy, crazy or lame.”

“What you need is a substitute wife,” Forest said, putting the freshly dressed Stewart on his shoulders and galloping around the sofa while Stewart shrieked with laughter.

“Sure. I’ll just call ‘Rent-a-Wife.’”

“You can’t afford that,” Forest said, lowering Stewart onto the sofa and lifting Steven up for his turn. “Hookers are pricey and housekeepers have skills. Maybe get one of those inflatable women. Prop her in a chair, backlight her and throw your voice like Norman Bates in Psycho.”

“That’s grotesque,” Anna said. “And don’t get the boys so riled up before bed.”

Forest shortened Steven’s turn and lowered him to the floor. “Go get books for Uncle Tuck,” he said. The twins scampered off, squealing.

“On the other hand, I could say my wife is away taking care of a sick relative…in Australia maybe?” Tucker said.

“Or she could have a job where she travels a lot,” Anna mused. “Like in sales. Or maybe with the airlines.”

“A stewardess?” Forest asked, sitting beside Anna. “That’d be hot.”

“That’s flight attendant, not stewardess, you sexist pig,” Anna said. “And let’s make her a pilot. More impressive.”

“That could work—faking a wife, I mean,” Forest said. “Hey, you could borrow my old wedding band.”

“Your old wedding band?”

“We thought he lost it down the sink,” Anna said, elbowing her husband, who grimaced in pretend pain. “So we bought a new one. Then I found it behind the bathroom sink faucet. If Mr. Fidget here wouldn’t take off his ring every time he washes his hands.”

“You want me to get a rash? I don’t need a ring to feel married,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I’m yours forever.”

“Read to us, Unca Tuck! Read to us!” Steven shouted, dragging a book bigger than he was along the carpet. Stewart hopped beside him—a one-man cheering squad.

“Go play for a few minutes, guys,” Anna said. “Your mommy and daddy have to straighten Uncle Tuck out.”

“Uh-oh,” Stewart said, staring at Tuck with round eyes. “Were you berry bad?”

“Kinda bad,” he said.

“You have to make good chooses, Unca Tuck,” he said somberly. After a sympathetic once-over, the boys turned and galloped off, happy with the extra playtime.

“So, you think I can fake a wife? Except I told Harvey she’d be at the opening-of-school potluck.”

“So get someone to stand in,” Anna said. “You pissed Julie off, but maybe someone else?”

“Someone else named Julie?”

“Or someone who’d pretend to be her…” Forest said slowly. “I’ve got it.” He leaned across the couch to pick up a framed photo from the end table and turned it toward them. It was a shot of Tucker with his arm around Anna on the terrace of the Del Coronado near San Diego, where they’d all gone for vacation last year.

“You’d be perfect,” Forest said to Anna. “You know Tuck and you want the best for him.”

“No,” Tucker said. “That would be crazy.”

“Not necessarily,” Anna said. “I could go to the potluck and impress everyone.”

“Too much of an imposition,” Tucker said, trying to head her off. “You live miles away. There will be more than a potluck to attend, I’m sure.”

“But if I were a pilot, I’d have the excuse of working out of town a lot.” She tapped her finger on her lip, looking Tuck over. “You want to make a good impression, don’t you? You don’t want to sound like an idiot or a letch, right? Or like you’re hiding a sordid past?”

“Of course not.”

“Because that’s how you’ll sound if you tell the truth now.”

“But still…”

“And you can pay us back baby-sitting the twins while Forest and I go away for a weekend or two.”

“Thanks for the offer, Anna, but it’s too complicated.”

“You don’t think I can do it, do you?” Anna said. “I have an acting background, you know. I was great as Emily in Our Town at the community college. Everyone said I had talent.”

Forest snorted. Anna slugged him and he said, “Ouch.”

“I’m sure you’re very talented, Anna, but—”

“Pretending to be married would be good for you, Tuck,” Forest said, leveling him a look. “It’ll keep you out of equipment closets with passing women.” Forest had been completely disgusted by the Melissa encounter and felt obliged to give the big-brother glare from time to time.

“So, I’ll go to the potluck with you,” Anna said, getting into it, “and maybe a faculty party at Christmas. I could spend an occasional weekend at your place. There’s that candy factory out there I love and some antique stores, so I could get some shopping out of it.” Anna scooted to the edge of the sofa in her excitement. “And the rest of the time I’ll jet the globe as a pilot. I always thought that would be a great career. And you love a woman in uniform, right?” She batted her eyes at him.

“Good lord.”

“Forest, you’ll have to take over the boys when I’m in Copper Corners with Tucker,” Anna shot at her husband.

“No prob. To help Tuck out I’ll be glad to babysit.”

“Baby-sit? Ha!” she replied with a snort. “How come when a dad takes care of his kids it’s baby-sitting? And that does not mean letting them climb the curtains while you watch ESPN, either.”

“I can handle it, don’t worry.”

“I’m starting to love this idea,” Anna said. “Plus, I can make sure the principal knows how committed and dedicated and faithful you are, right, Tuck?”

“I don’t see how this could work, Anna,” he said uneasily, but a twinge of hope rose, all the same.

“Call me Julie. And of course it will work. We’ll make it work.”

“I’ll go get the spare ring,” Forest said, jumping up.

“I think I know where the negative for this photo is,” Anna said, scrutinizing the framed shot, “so we can make a print for your wallet.”

“A photo on my desk would be plenty, but…we’d better think this through.” Why was he even considering going along with the Forest-Anna steamroller? Only because of his desperation to not look like an idiot to Harvey. He needed the man’s confidence in him. And part of that confidence was knowing he was stable and married, not a lying single fake.

“Don’t worry, Tucker,” Anna said. “This is a good thing. This way you can really be the dedicated guy you want to be. You’ll be married to your job. Literally.”

Before he could reply, Forest returned, polishing the ring in his shirttail. He plopped it onto Tucker’s palm.

There it sat…the symbol of eternal love and fidelity.

That Tucker would be faking. He almost handed it back.

He hated starting out at Copper Corners on the wrong foot—letting the misunderstanding become a false life. On the other hand, it was almost poetic that sex was messing him up again—his last impulsive behavior. This was a warning.

And it was true that being married—even as a pretense—would keep him on the straight and narrow when it came to women. And he’d do such good work that in the end the charade wouldn’t matter a bit.

But could a wedding band, a photo on his desk and an occasional appearance by his wife be enough to fake a marriage? Hard to believe. Tucker tucked the ring in his pocket. He’d have to think about it.

2

ON HIS FIRST DAY at Copper Corners High, Tucker strode purposefully toward the administration building to talk to Harvey Winfield, fingering the wedding band in his pocket as he walked. He’d decided to tell Harvey the truth. He wasn’t married. It was all a misunderstanding.

He dreaded how stupid he’d sound, but the fake marriage was too weird, no matter how enthusiastic Anna and Forest were about the idea. This was no way to launch his career. Anna would be disappointed, of course—she planned to drive down tomorrow to organize the house he’d rented—but he had to do the right thing.

Once inside the building, Tucker found Harvey at the reception desk. Perfect. He’d just get it over with and start fresh.

As an idiot.

“Good to see you, Tucker.” Harvey shook his hand, gripping Tuck’s forearm with his other hand, his eyes warm with affection.

Do it now. Tell him. “I need to clear something up, Harvey.”

“Sure thing, but before I forget, your wife called. What a delightful woman. She said to tell you to feel free to work as late as you want, since she has plenty to do at the house. She knows how dedicated you are.”

“She does?” he said blankly. Anna must have arrived early and called out here to impress Harvey with Tuck’s commitment and her support. Damn, she was good.

“She wanted to know what to bring to the potluck next week.” Harvey smiled. “You’re a lucky man, Tucker. She reminds me of my Nadine. It’s so fortunate that she’ll be in town for the dinner. Sounds like the airline keeps her quite busy.”

“Oh, yes, she’s one busy woman, all right,” he said, blowing out a breath. How could he tell Harvey the truth now? His fake wife had sealed his fate. A misunderstanding was one thing, but a plot with coconspirators? With a sigh, Tuck put his hand into his pocket and slid the ring onto his fourth finger. It felt strange—heavy, like the lie pressing in on his chest—but he’d make the best of it.

“Let’s get you started,” Harvey said. “We’ve got some papers to sign, of course, but I want you to know right off the bat that I’m going to give you free rein here. I’ve been accused of being a micromanager, Tucker, but I’ve turned over a new leaf. The best way to learn this job is to live this job. You’d think after thirty years at it, I’d figure that out. So if you’d keep me posted on your activities—regular updates now—we’ll be fine. I know you won’t let me down.”

And he wouldn’t. He’d do everything he could to justify Harvey’s faith in him. The fake marriage was a glitch, but he’d just think of himself as married to the job, like Anna had said, and that would have to do.

TWO WEEKS LATER, Tucker saved the changes he’d made in the new computerized class schedule, stood and stretched. He wanted to greet the teachers setting up their rooms early and see what he could do to help them. School would start in a week.

He looked around his office—his first as an administrator. He loved it. The room was tiny, his wooden desk shabby and scarred, his chair in danger of collapsing and his computer practically pre-DOS, but he’d filled the shelves with his own books and professional journals, along with the district’s curriculum manuals, hung the walls with motivational posters and artwork, and organized his desk so that the place felt like home.

The brass plaque Ben had given him in high school rested beside his computer. It held a quote from William James: The greatest discovery of my generation is that a human being can alter his life by altering his attitudes of mind. That had been Ben’s message to him. Tucker liked to keep it always in view.

He’d called Ben about the job, who’d expressed his confidence in Tuck and talked about the things he was working on at Western Sun that Tucker would be able to take over once he got back there. The man Ben had hired was definitely retiring in three years. Tucker had a good shot at the job if he did well at Copper Corners. Things were falling into place.

Every day Tuck had been here made him feel surer this was the right step for him. He was already making a difference. He’d upgraded the class schedule software and purchased a school-wide grading program for next to nothing through a promotion he’d researched. And he was planning to add some needed extracurricular activities right away.

Everything was going according to plan, he thought, looking around again. His glance fell on the photo of him with Anna—no, Julie—his wife. Well, everything except that. He angled the photo out of his line of vision. He would keep that low-key, and it shouldn’t matter. Anna would come out to the potluck and then be off on her busy flying schedule.

Grabbing a clipboard to take notes about what the teachers needed, Tucker set off across the quad between the school’s brick buildings to meet the teachers who were here—there were three or four at least.

The air was filled with the fierce rasp of cicadas and the sun baked the top of his head. August in southern Arizona was brutal. Its bright burn seemed to have washed out the green of the paloverde tree trunks. Everything looked dusty and tired of summer.

The heat had the opposite effect on Tucker—it energized him. Surveying the campus gave him a rush of ownership and responsibility. This was his school. He knew every corner of campus now. He’d spent a week assisting Dwayne the custodian move shelves and replace equipment in all the buildings, so that helped, but it was more. He’d absorbed the feel of the place, knew all its classrooms and corridors by heart. Sappy, maybe, but there it was.

When he left in three years, things would be better here than when he’d arrived. Achievement scores and student involvement would rise and teacher satisfaction would soar.

Tucker met the new English teacher first, then visited with a veteran history teacher setting up her class. After that, he headed to Building D, where the English teacher had said the new science teacher was working.

As he walked, he found himself running his thumb over the smooth curve of Forest’s wedding band. He was constantly aware of it—catching the sunlight when he walked, snagging soap when he washed his hands, in sight when he worked at the computer. Wearing it, he felt phony, but safe. Since he’d declared women off-limits, being married was insurance. He did intend to marry one day, so this was a test of how it would be.

Without the woman. Or the love.

Or the sex.

Which was a definite downside. But he could handle it. He’d sublimate his sex drive in work and everyone would benefit.

He entered the D building, which held science, math, computer and art classes, and got a blast of hip-hop music from an open classroom door—his destination, no doubt.

Inside the room, the music was so loud his ears throbbed. He spotted the teacher on a ladder, hammering something to the ceiling. A jungle vine, he could see, made of cloth. A couple dozen dangled around the room, which was also decorated with three papier-mâché trees.

At the back, there was a bank of terrariums, where he made out a couple of snakes and a large lizard…maybe an iguana? The bulletin boards held maps of South America and photos of exotic creatures. The total effect was of a jungle, dense and complex, and full of color.

And a fire code violation.

Then he got a load of the teacher and lost all thought for a second. She wore white shorts, which were pulled tight over her round backside because of her position on the ladder. Below the shorts were great legs—muscles tensed along their shapely length as she hammered away. Nice feet, too, he saw, since she was barefoot. With plump toes, the nails painted fire-engine red.

She hadn’t heard him enter over the pounding music, and now he was close enough to catch her scent. She smelled familiar and sexy…like Melissa. What were the odds of that?

He reminded himself of his purpose here—to offer any help she might need—and called over the music, “Hello?”

“Wha—?” She jerked, then turned, wobbling on the ladder.

Tuck stepped forward and braced her thigh—as firm as it looked—to keep her from tumbling. He looked up at her face and swallowed hard.

Oh, God.

It was Cricket, his college crush, her green eyes round and wide, blond hair in parentheses around her cheeks.

“Tucker! I don’t believe it!” Her face lit with pleasure. She looked down at her leg, where his hand still rested.

He let go fast, rubbing his still-warm palm on his pants.

She climbed down the ladder—rather, bounced—twisted a knob on the CD player to lower the volume, then turned to him. “What a small world!”

“Yeah.” He felt like Rick from Casablanca. Of all the high schools in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into his.

“You teach here?” she asked.

“I’m the assistant principal. I’m new.”

“Me, too. But I’m a teacher. Well, not quite. I have an emergency certificate.” She stepped closer to him and he caught more of her special scent—vanilla, cinnamon and something peppery. “They needed a science teacher and I had tons of science credits, plus I love science—I was a volunteer at the zoo, and I’ve always contributed to the Sierra Club. So, I got the job. Of course, they didn’t have another applicant, but, oh, well. Listen to me babble. How’d you end up here?”

“Long story.” He didn’t care to lay out the details of his fall from grace. She looked as good as he remembered. Short and compact, pixieish, with a heart-shaped face, small nose and pretty mouth—features that made you expect her to be sweet, but he knew she was mouthy and irreverent, with a lusty laugh that managed to charm despite its decibel strength, and green eyes that glinted with mischief.

Nothing she wore was immodest, not even her stretchy red top, but she was so sexy she had to be violating codes all over the place—dress codes, morality codes, building codes, whatever. She was one big violation.

He couldn’t help checking out her ring finger and found just a silver peace sign.

“Man, how long has it been?” she asked.

“Must be six, seven years.” He tried to sound cool, but he could have figured out exactly how long ago that make-out session had been. It had been two days before Christmas, and they’d drank a couple of beers, talked a long time—finishing each other’s sentences—and then they’d gotten personal and there had been that mistletoe….

“Yeah. Finals, right? Christmas time.”

“Yeah. Christmas time.”

Her eyes told him she remembered the moment, too. And with pleasure, judging by her soft smile. “Whatever happened with you and Sylvia?” she asked. “I moved out just after you and I…after that night.”

“Nothing,” he said. “I think she married an electrical engineering professor.” The guy she’d stood him up for, which made him feel less guilty about kissing Cricket. He’d slept with plenty of women in college, but he never overlapped.

“I lost track of her after I moved out of the apartment,” Cricket said. “Too much temptation to party. I had to hit the books, resuscitate my GPA.” She scrunched up her nose. “I hated hitting the books.”

“I remember,” he said. She’d been studying biology when he’d joined her on the couch while he waited for Sylvia and they’d commiserated about GPA pressure and the stifling nature of lecture halls, moving on to discuss a global sweatshop protest they’d both attended, then to their beliefs on social issues—poverty, ecology, the proper role of government.

The words flowed easily, as if they’d known each other for years. They’d disagreed some—Cricket was more black and white in her beliefs than he was—but with humor and mutual respect. In short, they’d connected. Intellectually, emotionally and, um, sexually. Somewhere in there, she’d started drinking his beer. Then let it slip that she thought he was cute.

And he’d told her she was pretty, and she’d mumbled something about mistletoe, cupped his face with both hands and kissed him…like he was some exotic fruit she wanted to get every juice from.

He’d kissed her right back, a tsunami of lust pounding through him. She’d tasted of beer and peppermint and smelled of cinnamon and vanilla and spice—fresh with a winter bite. She’d slipped onto his lap and he’d held her tight. She’d felt delicate, but springy. Strong and hot.

There was something not to be missed about that encounter. Like snow in Tucson. So rare you had to drop everything and run outside to let the flakes fall in your mouth. Come to think of it, they’d been nowhere near any mistletoe….

“Me, too,” she said, taking another step forward. “I remember, too.” Electricity zinged between them. He could swear the jungle vines swayed in the static. “We had a great talk. And everything…”

She was looking him over, head cocked like it had been that night right before she’d kissed him. Then her gaze dipped and snagged on something.

His left hand. The gold band gleamed under the fluorescent lights like a treasure.

“You’re married?” she said. Did she sound disappointed? And why did he hope so?

“Um, yeah. Absolutely.” He twisted the ring with the fingers of his other hand.

“How long?” she asked.

“Two years.” Forest and Anna thought that sounded like enough years to be solidly married and not attract newlywed jokes.

Cricket nodded slowly. “Kids?”

“No.”

“But soon?”

“When the time is right.” This was true. He did want kids. After he had a real wife, of course. “You’re not married?”

“Are you kidding? I’m just figuring out what I want to be when I grow up. When I’ve got that handled, maybe I’ll find someone. When I’m ready to hibernate.” She shrugged as if that were unlikely, then tilted her head again. “Is it good? Marriage, I mean?”

“Sure,” he said, the lie giving him a twinge. It would be good, he was sure.

She’d obviously picked up his discomfort because she said, “Really?”

“It has its ups and downs,” he said to cover his hesitation.

“Yeah. Same with any choice. The pros and cons and ups and downs. I hate that.” She bit her lip, then seemed to cheer up. “Anyway, I’m happy for you, Tucker. Really.” Her expression warmed, calling back the intimacy of their evening together all those years ago. “She’s a lucky woman.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said.

“Oh, I do. You were a great kisser.” She elbowed him playfully in the side.

“I’d say that was all you.”

“Team effort.” She sighed. “That night was something, huh?”

“Yeah. Something.”

“I couldn’t believe how much I blathered on and on.”

“We had a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah. A lot.”

They stopped talking for a long moment. The beat of attraction thudded in Tucker’s ears.

He’d thought about looking her up after Sylvia and he broke up, but they were near graduation, and he’d been disturbed by how powerfully Cricket had affected him. He’d felt out of control, the way he had in high school. Besides, he was too tame for her, he was sure.

With a start, he realized he’d held Cricket’s gaze way too long for a married man—even one experiencing ups and downs in his marriage. “Anyway, that was a long time ago.”

“And now you’re an administrator. Wow. I would have figured you for an ACLU attorney or some intellectual rabble-rouser.”

“I considered law, actually, but education is important. It’s a way to influence the next generation.”

“Sheesh, that sounds ancient. The only generation we’re old enough to influence—or even talk about—is the Pepsi one.”

“How’d you get into teaching anyway?” he asked, not liking how she made him feel like an old fogy. “Weren’t you studying nursing?”

“Turns out blood makes me faint. It’s, like, a reflex. I catch sight of red and everything goes black.” She shrugged. “Kind of lame, I know.”

“You can’t help your reflexes,” he said.

She smiled. “Sounds better than being a flake, huh? So, after that I tried social work.” She made a face.

“No good?”

“Too much bureaucracy. You can save the world, but only after you fill out the correct forms.”

“In triplicate?”

“Exactly. Then last summer I was a counselor at a summer camp for low-income kids and really loved it and I realized teaching might be my thing, so I thought I’d see how it goes. Science is cool, too. I love biology. Chemistry’s a little scary, but I’ll figure it out.” She looked around the room, her eyes narrowing in evaluation. “What do you think of my rain forest?”

“Impressive.” He’d have to say something about the fire code before she hammered up more vines.

“This will be the framework for teaching biology,” she said. “Everything will be tied to this—ecosystems, conservation, the greenhouse effect, species differentiation. Plus, we’ll do writing and art projects, along with science.”

“A thematically based integrated curriculum.”

“Wow.” She blinked. “And I just thought it sounded fun.”

“That, too.”

“So that’s how you get the big bucks—coming up with big hairy labels for fun stuff.”

“Pretty much. It’s a great idea, Cricket. Innovative.” And a fire hazard. He had to tell her so. It was his job. “The only thing is we can’t have anything flammable within six inches of the ceiling tiles.”

“What? Oh, right. Good one.” She slugged him gently on the arm.

“I’m serious. It’s the fire code. And the trees will have to be dealt with, too—the branches trimmed and that one—” he pointed “—needs to be moved so it doesn’t block the exit.”

“It took me four hours to get this stuff up. And the trees took forever to situate.”

“I’ll help you move them.”

“How about if I just take my chances with the fire marshal?”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that. You’ll still have the jungle effect with your animals and bulletin boards.”

“Come on, Tucker. You’re not one of those rules-are-rules guys, are you? In college, you were at the demonstrations, ready to get arrested with the rest of us.”

“We had permits.”

“Please, sir, can we protest? Sheesh.” She rolled her eyes.

“The petitions and meetings with the university president achieved what we wanted. The demonstrations were mostly to make us feel better.”

“That’s not true, is it?”

“More or less. The point is that if you play by the major rules, you can bend the minor ones. And safety’s major.”

“So I’ll pat down the kids for matches.”

“I’ll get another ladder and help you.”

“I’ll handle it,” she said, her eyes sparking with irritation. And stubbornness.

“Okay, then.” He lifted his clipboard, pen at the ready. “Is there anything else you need in the way of furniture, equipment or textbooks?”

“What I need is for you to forget the fire code.”

“No can do.”

They held each other’s gaze in a High Noon stand-off. Something told him this wouldn’t be his last run-in with Cricket.

He blinked first. “Anyway…I know the first few weeks of teaching can be overwhelming, but we’re here—Harvey and I—to make your job easier.”

She rolled her eyes in a yeah, right. But her wry smile softened the effect.

“In the long run, you’ll thank me.”

“You sound old, Tuck.” She patted him on the shoulder.

Part of him bristled, but having her think of him as an old married administrator was probably a good thing. If they were in a different place, a different time, he’d be after her in a heartbeat, eager to see if time had altered the heat between them. He rubbed his ring with his thumb, grateful he wore it. Melissa had been a mere echo of Cricket. Without this gold emblem on his fingers, God knows what career-killing indiscretion he’d be tempted into beneath the branches of her papier-mâché trees and the reptilian eyes of her terrarium dwellers. The school board would never buy “Cricket Fever” as a defense at his hearing.

Unless, of course, they knew Cricket.

WHAT THE HELL HAD happened to Tucker Manning? Cricket couldn’t believe a guy who kissed like a porn star would stand there like an old geezer and tell her to rip down her jungle. In the long run, you’ll thank me? Please.

On top of that, he was married. She got a smidge of concern that she was more disappointed about that than she was over her soon-to-be-deforested jungle.

Tucker Manning was married. Unavailable. Taken.

Not that it mattered. Hell, she hadn’t seen him in years, though he did cross her mind from time to time. They’d connected in such a warm, easy way that night. She’d felt understood, honored, almost urged to say any outrageous thing she thought or felt.

He’d also starred in some sexy dreams. Maybe because she’d been surprised by how much and how fast she’d wanted him. Major lust had hit at max speed.

Of course, he was hot, with down-slanted, bedroom eyes—George Clooney/Kyle Chandler eyes. And he had this great look—earnest and smart-ass and know-it-all. The boy next door with a Harley and a Mensa membership. Trustworthy, wicked and brilliant. A killer combo.

Plus, his voice was low and confident, with a sexual undertow that sucked her in. Also his mouth was dramatic—sculpted lips, full and so there. She’d just had to have a taste…. And wow…. But Tucker had come to his senses, completely mortified and guilty as hell. She could have told him about Sylvia and the professor, but that didn’t seem right and she’d been a little shaken up by her reaction to him.

And she still thought about him with lust. Probably because he was The Forbidden. Or maybe because after that night, he disappeared. Or maybe she had disappeared. Whatever. Absence makes the heart more horny? Or curious? Or something.

Now here he was, turning up again like a sexy penny, with that same kissable mouth and all those fabulous features and that thick, dark hair—she’d forgotten about the hair—but he was taken. Locked down. Married. She hoped the woman knew what she had.

On the other hand, he’d turned into an administrator. And not a progressive, authority-sharing one, either. A rules-are-our-friends, by-the-book administrator. He’d probably expect to see her lesson plans for the upcoming week on his desk every Friday. She watched him cross the quad. What a great backside. She was window-shopping only, of course. The man was married.

He’d sounded nervous about it, though—it has its ups and downs—fiddling with his wedding ring like he wanted to yank it off. She hoped he wasn’t unhappily married.

Anyway, enough of the sexual road not taken. She had a new career to explore and no time for good kissers with up-and-down marriages. Small towns meant flat-line on the entertain-o-meter. But that was okay. Her goal was to be the best teacher she could be and really give this career a fair test. Discarding two professions—even if one was because of a physical reflex…good point, Tuck—made her feel, well, flaky.

It was time to get serious. And teaching was it. She was pretty sure. She’d loved the summer camp. Teaching the kids how to boat and ride horses, guiding them through conflicts, shoring up their self-esteem, helping them explore their ideas and interests had been extremely rewarding. She’d felt as though she made a difference in their lives. She wanted more of that. A career of it, in fact.

As the summer ended, she’d recalled that her friend Nikki Winfield’s father was a principal. Cricket had worked for Party Time Characters, the kiddie party company Nikki’s best friend Mariah had started back then, and had gotten to know Nikki through her.

Before she knew it, Cricket had an interview with Nikki’s father, Harvey—a formal, old-fashioned guy, but sweet and completely in love with his school. Her science background and enthusiasm—and the fact they had no other applicants—earned her the job. She would refresh her biology with the textbooks, get teaching tips from colleagues and figure out the chemistry somehow.

The point was that she now had her very own classroom. She had a curriculum to cover, but how she presented it was up to her. She wanted her students to love learning and to figure out how they could make a difference, too.

When she sat still for long, though, doubts assailed her. Was she up to this? Could she stick to it even when it got hard? Would she get hit with the same disappointment she’d felt about social work? Maybe she was too idealistic. She had these great dreams, but the day-to-day getting there wore her down. At least so far.

This had to be different. She felt different. She felt ready. She’d already plowed into it—coming up with her jungle theme for the three sections of biology she would teach. She looked around at what she’d set up. It looked great. Purposeful. Appealing. Exciting. Except now, thanks to Tucker Manning, Fire Code Cop, she had to machete the vines and muscle the trees around.

A surge of stubbornness rolled through her. She wasn’t giving up on her rain forest, no matter what Captain Safety said.

Nothing within six inches of the ceiling, huh? Okay, how about seven? If she used lightweight wire extended from the tree branches…She smiled. She’d need some help, though. Out the window, she spotted three kids skateboarding across the campus pathways. She’d get to know them, get their help and annoy Rule Master Manning all at the same time. Talk about multitasking.

She hurried outside to chase them down.

WHEN CRICKET AND THE three students finished the rain-forest renovation, she took them to the town’s pizza parlor for food. The garishly lit, green-dragon-themed place was loud with the sounds of arcade games, rich with the tomato-and-baked-bread smell of pizza and decently crowded for a Wednesday night.

They’d just dug into two Chicago-style pepperoni pies and Dr. Pepper in frosty mugs, when Cricket looked up and saw Tucker striding down the aisle between green plastic benches, a bottle of beer in one hand.

“Hey, Tuck,” she said, motioning him over. “Join us.”

“Cricket.” He paused at the end of the table, smiling a great, warm smile that heated her like an electric blanket. “I don’t want to intrude.” He glanced at the boys, his brows lifted in curiosity.

“Tucker Manning, meet three of Copper Corners’ finest sophomores—Jason, Jeff and John, the Triple Js, as they’re known to their friends. Guys, meet your new assistant principal.”

Tucker set his bottle on the table and solemnly shook each hand, making enough eye contact to make the guys uncomfortable.

“They helped me rearrange my rain forest. Here, sit.” She patted the space beside her for Tucker, since the three students filled the opposite bench.

Tucker took a tentative seat. She could see him measure the distance so they wouldn’t touch at shoulder or hip.

Though the boys continued eating, Tucker’s presence had definitely put a chill on the meal. The man gave off authority like body heat.

“Are your parents aware of where you boys are?” he said, making it worse. He’d used a relaxed tone, but it came out stern and he’d called them boys.

“Pretty much,” Jason said, shrugging.

“Maybe you’d better be certain.” Tucker took his phone from a back pocket and extended it.

“’Sokay,” Jason said. “We should get going, Cricket.”

Jeff wolfed the last of his slice and John grabbed a piece to go, leaving three from the second pizza on the tray. She knew full well they would have cleaned up if Tucker hadn’t sunk the mood.

“Hang on,” she said. “We can talk to Mr. Manning about starting the ecology club.”

“That’s okay,” Jason said. “Thanks, Cricket.” The other boys mumbled their thanks, then all three lumbered away.

“Way to be a buzz kill,” she joked to Tucker. Despite the distance between them, she felt his body heat and smelled his cologne, a spicy musk that teased like his smile.

Tucker must have noticed how close they were, too, because he slid off her bench and onto the opposite one.

“Was it something I said?” she asked.

“This is better,” he said firmly. “And being alone with students at night is not a good idea.”

“They slaved over my room. The least I could do was feed them.”

“You’re young and single and very pretty, Cricket.”

“Why, thank you.”

“All three of those guys were smitten.”

“Nah. It’s not me. It was the food. No teen turns down free pizza.”

“It just doesn’t look good.”

“It’s okay. It’s so noisy we couldn’t even hear ourselves flirt and forget playing footsie—the lights are too bright.”

His brows lifted in alarm, which reminded her that she’d loved startling him with extreme ideas that long-ago night.

“Kidding, Tucker. Jeez. I’m twenty-seven. That’s antique to sophomores.”

“I also advise against allowing students to call you by your first name. You need them to respect you.”

“Respect has to be earned.”

“The kids need a teacher, not a pal. If you’re too chummy, they’ll take advantage of you, blow off assignments, talk back, refuse to listen. And then you’ll end up at war.”

Cricket stared at Tucker. He sounded like some tired veteran advising a new recruit how to survive a battle. “I want to reach my students at a human level, Tucker. I’m not their prison guard.”

“Too much familiarity is a mistake. Some teachers don’t smile for the first month. Maybe that’s overboard, but they have a point. Keep your distance, set high standards and you’ll give your students what they need—subject knowledge, thinking skills and the self-discipline to get what they want in life.”

“What happened to you, Tucker?” She reached across the table to playfully shake him by the shoulders. “Did they brainwash you at administrator school? You weren’t hard-hearted in college.”

He’d been tender, not tough, that night, and passionate, not reserved, and she’d felt as if she’d belonged in his arms.

She distracted herself from that thought by grabbing Tucker’s beer for a big gulp from the bottle.

“Hey!” he said.

“Sorry. It just looked tasty.” Which was exactly what she’d said when she’d snitched some of his Corona that night.

Tucker’s face stilled. He was remembering the moment, too, she was sure.

“How about some Skee-Ball?” she said to change the subject.

“I don’t think so.”

“What’s a little Skee-Ball between consenting adults?” It was just a light flirt, but their gazes locked like heat-seeking missiles. Fire zoomed through her.

Tucker sucked in a harsh breath, twirling his wedding ring. Again.

As if catching the vibe, a Skee-Ball light began to spin and flash red and the siren blared. Emergency, emergency. Lust alert. Calling all ice water.

Cricket crossed her legs to settle herself.

When the sound ceased, Tucker spoke. “I don’t think we should consent to anything together, Cricket. There’s too much…you-know…going on here.”

“You-know?” She couldn’t help teasing. “What’s you-know?”

“You know what you-know is,” he said, low and sexy, his eyes sparkling in the light, his smile crooked, the effect as romantic and inviting in the bright pizza parlor as it would have been in a dimly lit bistro.

She sighed. “Yeah. We both know.”

“I’m married. And I’m your boss, more or less. Playing Skee-Ball or sharing a beer or just sitting here talking, however innocent, is a bad idea.”

“I hate it when you’re right.” She leaned forward, chin on her fist. “I hope your wife appreciates you, Tucker.”

“I’m sure she does,” he said, but his eyes flickered away. What was up with that?

“What’s her name anyway? And where did you meet?”

“Her name is Julie and my, um, brother introduced us.”

“Where is she tonight? How come you’re eating alone?”

“She’s out of town. Working. She’s, um, an airline pilot.”

“An airline pilot? That’s cool.”

“She likes it.”

“So, she travels a lot?”

“All the time.”

Why did he look so guilty? She couldn’t see Tucker playing around. He struck her as an honest, loyal guy. He’d been very upset about the make-out session while he was still seeing Sylvia. Now Cricket had to know more.

“So what is Julie like?”

“She’s smart…and pretty, I guess.”

“You guess? Can I see her picture?”

“I don’t have one on me.”

No photo in the wallet? That wasn’t a good sign. She’d figured Tucker would be a sentimental guy, judging from the affectionate way he’d talked about his friends that night. “So, describe her to me.”

“Let’s see…medium build, dark hair to her shoulders. A little shorter than me.” He sounded like he had to wrack his brain to remember.

“That’s it? What about her eyes? What color are they?”

“Her eyes?” He looked completely panicked. “They’re green…and brown, too. Hazel, I guess.”

“Not very observant, Tucker.”

“I know the big things.”

“Little things add up to big things. Like what’s her favorite food? Favorite flavor of ice cream? Best band? What’s her pet peeve?”

“The important thing is that we make each other happy.”

“Does she make you happy, Tucker? Really?” She hadn’t meant to sound so serious, but she was a little worried about him.

“Of course she does,” he said, but he seemed tense and he was twisting his wedding ring like a stuck jar lid. “Could we stop talking about my marriage?”

“If you’d rather not talk about it.” Maybe Julie wasn’t good enough for Tucker. Maybe she’d seen what a catch he was and taken advantage of his kind nature.

“Okay, I’ll play your game,” he said abruptly, evidently taking her words as a challenge. “Her favorite food is chicken parmesan. Favorite ice cream—Cherry Garcia. She loves Bon Jovi. Her pet peeve is people who chat at the post office window when there’s a line. Her dress size is four—six if she feels bloated—and her favorite color is teal. Happy?”

“Teal, huh? Impressive. I didn’t think men even knew there was such a color. Of course you could be bluffing,” she teased. “I’ll check your answers at the back-to-school social. Julie will be there, right?”

“She’ll be there, all right.” But he didn’t look that happy about it.

An explanation suddenly occurred to her. “You don’t need to worry, Tuck. I’ll keep our sordid past a secret.” She winked, then drank another swallow of his beer, knowing it would annoy him.

“Would you like one of your own?” he asked wryly.

“It tastes better borrowed.” She was relieved he’d lightened up a little. “I can’t wait to meet Julie.”

“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to meet you, too,” he said, tapping his beer bottle against her Dr. Pepper mug with a sigh.

Maybe once she met Julie, she’d feel better. Find out he was in a good marriage with a good woman. She didn’t want to think of him unhappy. And she didn’t want to be lusting after a married man. Any more than she already was, at least.

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