“I need a break,” Harper confessed and scooted her chair back with a loud scrape on the gym’s once-polished wood floor. Finding her water bottle empty, she seized the opportunity to flee. She didn’t wait to hear the story or even want to engage in any more conversation about Scott Pearson’s deviant behavior. The boy should be locked in a group home if his parents were so damn inconsiderate as to allow him to rear himself. ....

Waving politely to the other teachers, Harper took out a small pill container from her pocket. Not normally a medicine taker, this pill case came out only once a year—for conferences. The bottle contained the sweet nectar of surviving the next hour and a half, pain reliever.....

She had stopped at the water fountain, tossed in the two ivory capsules, and sucked in a bunch of water to send them on their way, when she spied a man emerging through the front doorway. ....

Wow.....

The word smacked her psyche like it owned it. A male with tousled honey-brown hair, a body rippling—literally—beneath a tight, slightly dusty white tee-shirt, and hardened thighs that threatened the seams of faded, well worn jeans. The baseball hat cast a disturbing shadow over his face, hiding his eyes. Harper swallowed hard, so noisily she thought the little sixth grade student who scuttled by heard her.  As the hunk passed her, reeking of sweat and musk and raw masculinity, Harper eyes attached to his ass so quickly, her neck complained. Her heart, hell, her clit didn’t. She suppressed a squeal as his ass, snugly clad in those tight, terrific jeans came into view. That perfect ass would feel hard in her greedy hands. ....

Hmmm, damn, that’s a photographic ass right there. What is a man like him doing at a thing like this?....

She shook her head and sighed. If only she could latch onto something perfect like the delicious man in the tight jeans and dusty tee-shirt. He didn’t seem old enough to have a child in middle school, but stranger things had happened. Moreover, he probably was either married to one of those Teach for America wannabe teachers.....

Yeah, her luck ran like that, from bad to horrid to atrocious.....

With that cheery thought front and center between her dual drumming pangs, Harper walked down the brightly lit hallway and into the growing humidity inside the gym. As she cleared the small foyer and the artificial visual attack of the soda machines, Carlita’s waving hands caught her attention. A fat grin, full of hollow professionalism, lingered around her mouth and her eyes were wide with something that looked a little like shock. ....

Harper increased her pace. Her ebony heels clicking against the wood floor seemed to send a Morse code signal to the butterflies in her stomach. She’d worked alongside Carlita for five years, and that expression of fear mixed with surprise meant something unplanned had occurred.....

“Hurry up!” Carlita nearly screamed as she adjusted her skirt, yanking down the hem. She licked her lips, wetting the scarlet lipstick and met Harper’s eyes. “You aren’t going to believe this, but I just saw Scott Pearson’s skinny butt running around the gym!”....

“What?” Harper asked. “Here? He’s here?”....

“Well, this is a school,” Mark replied, still seated in his chair, but sitting up. He leaned forward and had his elbows on each knee. His hands were clasped together in the V his opened legs made.....

“Ha, ha,” Harper replied before turning her attention to Carlita. “Why the fire alarm stare? He could be here for soccer practice.”....

Carlita’s brunette curls shimmered as she shook her head. “All extracurriculars were canceled due to the conference, remember?”....

“Right. That’s right.”

Mark squinted as he used his head to gesture to Scott Pearson’s wiry body clad in jeans and a sweatshirt doing cartwheels between the two bleachers. “There goes the sixth grade’s most-likely-to-do-time candidate.”

“Shush,” Carlita hissed. “Stop that Mark. His parents are here if he’s here.”....

Harper nodded in numb agreement. If…no, no. Not if, when Scott’s parents arrived at their table, she had to remain focused. Best to have something to show them when they ask. She hastily rummaged through the box of student portfolios. Horribly thin compared to most of the other students, Scott’s portfolio highlighted the boy’s complete lack of interest in school.....

“Remember,” Carlita said, scorn making her voice hard like a paddle, “two good comments for every negative one.”....

“Why do they make it so hard?” Mark asked dully. ....

Harper lightly socked him on the arm, and in her head she repeated the positive support standard: two to one, two to one…....

Like the other two teachers, Harper’s eyes remained locked on the pale, sable-haired kid bouncing around the gym as if he owned it. Her stomach tightened when he stopped playing and glumly began walking toward their table. Someone had called his attention to the teachers, and now the boy strolled in a rapid manner to their table. Harper scanned the now crowded gym, but could not locate the parent who had lashed the class clown into line with a one-word rebuke.....

“Evening, Scott,” Mark said, not getting up, not even meeting the boy’s eyes.....

Harper sighed. ....

“Scott, you here for your report card, right?” she asked, hating the false ring of her voice. Students could pick up on the canned quality to her teacher voice, but most adults couldn’t. That was why administrators loved it and students hated it. “I need a parent to sign for it.”....

Scott’s right shoulder rose and fell with all the apathy he could muster.....

“You don’t want to see it?” Carlita asked, hands on her hips, face twisted in barely restrained dislike. ....

Scott moved his head slightly to look at her and his face mirrored her own. Math, by far, had been his worse subject according to his progress report.....

“It sucks anyway,” Scott snapped. “Who gives a shit about a stupid piece of paper?”....

Harper opened her mouth to rebuke the boy’s language, but a shadow fell over him.....

“Apologize. Now, son!” commanded the voice attached to the shadow. ....

“Sorry,” the boy muttered a breath above the hum of the overhead fans.....

Harper’s mouth dropped open and all the saliva in her throat seemed to evaporate. There, in all his hunky handsomeness, was the white tee-shirt and tight jeans model. He removed his ball cap, and she could see at last that his eyes were a faint grayish blue. Lips, a slash of pink fury, and dark stubble blanketing his lower face, he seemed ready for a cover shoot, not spending time amongst a group of tired teachers.....

“Are you his teacher?” the man asked, eyes moving from one to the other. They stopped at Harper, lingering a bit longer than they had on the other two, but then again, that might have been her wishful thinking. “I’m Nathaniel Pearson, Scott’s father.”....

Carlita shot her a fast scowl before answering, “I’m Ms. Rodriguez. I teach math.”....

Both Carlita and Mark glanced at her, for she was next in line, but her lips gave a feeble attempt at forming words. Too bad her mouth and throat were too dry to speak.....

“I’m Mr. Shoemaker,” Mark said with a nod.....

Before she knew it, Mr. Pearson’s eyes were on her again. Their intensity made her fidget and she struggled to retain some composure. How was she supposed to tell this man his son was the menace of the entire sixth grade?....

“And you are?” he asked, a soft smile now fluttering about his mouth. Did he have any idea how he unnerved her? If so, why the hell did he find it amusing?....

This burst of anger unglued her lips and she said, “I’m Ms. Perry. I teach language arts.”....

Each word Mr. Pearson spoke felt like a quick lick against Harper’s clit. Befuddled, Harper couldn’t figure it out. Mr. Pearson was simply too gorgeous to be a father and certainly too damn fine to be Scott Pearson’s father.....