His Most Scandalous Secret. Susan Crosby
them and admired that they got through each day without breaking. Usually, the stronger the woman, the more he admired her.
And yet...there was Tessa Rose. Strong, yes. Physically, anyway. He didn’t know enough about her to know if her character was as strong, although he suspected as much. But she was soft, too. Temptingly soft.
He plucked a cookie from the bag and bit into it, its sweet raisins and chewy texture a sensual experience for the man whose most gourmet meal that week consisted of scrambled eggs and salsa, wrapped in a tortilla. Easy and cheap. That was his motto in the kitchen.
A homemade cookie was a rarity, either a Christmas gift or a cooking project in the Center’s kitchen.
He looked at the bedside clock, debated a moment, then picked up the phone and dialed the number he’d already memorized.
Tessa answered with a tentative hello.
“It’s Chase. I hope I’m not calling too late.”
She laughed. “I’m just so relieved it’s not my mother.”
“Did I wake you?”
“Heavens, no. I’m a night owl. I’ve been doing some prep work for a craft project for tomorrow.”
“I’ve been thinking about dinner.” How we shouldn’t take the chance, he thought. How mixing business and pleasure is never a wise move. “How about Saturday, after you give the self-defense class?”
“That would be great.”
He just wouldn’t kiss her good night. Then things wouldn’t get complicated. “Do you like Mexican food?”
“My favorite.”
He wouldn’t even hold her hand. “Good.”
“Chase?”
They’d just talk. Get to know each other. Try to bring in some reality to dim the fantasy that had built too fast. “Yeah?”
“No one is forcing you to do this, you know.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you sound like someone has a gun to your head. If you’ve decided that you don’t want to go out with me, I’ll understand. I guess.”
Ah, a graceful way out. She was perceptive and generous. This could be the end of it, no questions asked. It never had to come up again. “No one forces me to do anything, Tessa.”
Good goin’, Ryan. Come across like some Neanderthal. That’s just what every woman wants in her life.
“I’m sure they don’t,” she said.
A muffled noise punctuated the silence that followed.
“Are you laughing at me, Miss Rose?” he asked, strongly suspicious of the sound.
“No.” She choked a little. “Yes.”
“Why?” He knew why. He knew exactly why. What an idiot he was. Why did he become like an adolescent with her?
He knew the answer to that, too.
“I really like you, Chase.”
“But?”
“No but. I’ve never met a man like you.”
“Is that a problem for you?”
“It might be, at some point. But for now, I’m just enjoying it.”
“What are you concerned about, Tessa?”
“This is the first time I’ve been on my own, which seems amazing, I know, given my age. I can’t mess it up, Chase.”
“And I’m a threat to your independence?”
“Yes.”
He waited for her to expand on the answer. Was he just supposed to make his own assumptions about her meaning?
“Chase?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe I’m a threat to you, as well.”
“No maybe about it.”
“Good night,” she said softly, then hung up without waiting for his response.
He dropped the receiver and pressed his palms to his closed eyes. He wanted her beside him. Needed to hold her. Yearned to touch her soft curls as they danced down her back. Craved to have her fragrance fill his head. Hungered to know if her skin felt as velvety as it looked. Ached for her breasts to press against him, for her legs to wrap around his as their bodies merged.
He opened his eyes, needing a distraction, but the starkly erotic image still hovered, not the least hazy.
Fast. It’d all happened too fast. Which qualified what he felt as infatuation. Which meant, given time, he could control it.
They had no future together. He’d seen to that eighteen years ago. To forget even for a minute that he wasn’t a normal man was foolish.
And he was no fool.
Three
“How many of you have been victims of violence?”
Tessa looked around the room at the hands raised in response to her question. She’d decided to run separate classes based on age. This group was all teenagers. In this area of the city it explained why so many hands were up.
“How many of you had any kind of warning?”
Only a couple this time. Probably home violence, Tessa decided, a threat carried out.
“How many of you felt helpless?”
The hands came up again. She came around to the front of the podium, removing the barrier between them.
“The purpose of this class is to prevent you from being a victim. I’m not going to show you fancy moves, because they rarely work, especially if you have only a split second to react What I will show you is how to defend yourself well enough to escape.”
“Miss Rose?”
“Yes, Luis?”
“That was some fancy move you put on Stone Man.”
Tessa had anticipated the comment. She glanced at Chase, who leaned against the back wall watching her, a gray-haired man beside him. The infamous Sarge, unless she missed her guess.
“That’s a good point, Luis. However, I was prepared for him. Because I’m always aware of who and what is around me, I knew he was probably going to try to grab my purse. I also knew I couldn’t escape it, because he was too close.”
“How’d you know he was gonna grab it?”
“He slowed down when he saw me. He eyed my bag. I knew what was coming. I stopped at a place on the street where I was sure I could handle him. The second he reached out, I grabbed him. Before he knew it, he was hugging the hood of a car. Yes, I’ve learned the self-defense moves, but more importantly, I’ve learned to see what’s ahead, what could hurt me and how to make sure it doesn’t happen.
“That’s what I want you to learn. That, and how to get away. There’s nothing tricky about it. There’s also a chance you could get hurt. However, your goal is to get away, and you may have to fight back. But your injuries will probably be less than what your attacker had in mind for you.”
Every gaze was focused on her. She didn’t know whether to be pleased that they sat so attentively or sad that their lives necessitated the class at all.
“Okay. I’ll need some volunteers to act the roles of the criminals, preferably boys.” At the instant vocal response, she said, “I’m not being sexist. This is as realistic as I can make it. Part of the allure of crime for males is their power over females. Women don’t commit violent crimes in anywhere near the same numbers.”