Satellite of Love. Christa Maurice
she’d been impressed.
It made her wonder what he expected.
And, if she wouldn’t give it. The way she’d been tingling in front of the bonefish, he didn’t have to try so hard. If Lindsey and her dad had shown up five minutes later, they might have rushed away a lot faster. Her resistance only lasted so long.
Michael was just so darn delicious to look at. Add that to how polite, nice and patient he was and the way his scent made her blood sing and resistance really was futile. What was the point of resisting anyway?
Oh yeah. Michael’s brother Tony had a first grader and she didn’t need that kind of reputation, considering some of the busy bodies posing as parents. Life was difficult enough without inviting trouble.
Did trouble always have to come in such marvelous packaging?
“So do you want to come in?” She kicked herself the moment the question was out. Of course he did. Based on the gleam in his eyes at the museum, he wanted to come in for coffee and stay for breakfast.
He frowned at her. “Um, okay.” Reaching for the door handle, he hesitated. “Just so we’re clear, you’re inviting me in for a drink or something, right?”
Shoot, the packaging was really good. “I was thinking along the lines of coffee, yes.” Ha! More like coffee, tea or me.
“Perfect.” He jumped out and ran around the car to open the door for her. All day long, she hadn’t been allowed to open a single door for herself. Michael had to be gentlemanly on top of everything else.
Maureen allowed him to usher her into the house. What about asking him in for coffee was perfect? He hadn’t sounded sarcastic and if he was being sarcastic, why had he accepted? What man in his right mind was happy to find out that coffee wasn’t a code word for horizontal mambo? She shrugged out of her coat and threw it over the back of the chair. “I’ll get the coffee going.”
“You need help with anything?”
You could help me by not being so perfectly, weirdly normal. “No, I’ve got it.”
In the kitchen, she started the coffee pot and debated breaking out her cream and sugar set. It distracted her from debating what was going on with Michael. He wasn’t acting like any other guy she’d ever dated and seemed really happy about it. Why was he happy that she’d put the brakes on last night, announced she wasn’t sleeping with him this afternoon and spelled out that coffee was just coffee tonight? Coffee. She was supposed to be thinking about that so she didn’t have to think about Michael and his mysteries.
“So what did you think of Lindsey’s father?”
Maureen turned away from the cupboard. Michael stood in the kitchen door with a curious expression on his face. “What?”
“Lindsey’s father. What did you think of him?”
There he was, doing mysterious stuff again. Asking weird questions out of left field. To be honest, she’d done it to him, so this was fair play. “What about him?”
“Would you go out with him?”
“I couldn’t. He’s the father of one of my students.” Maureen took out her cream and sugar set so she would have something to do with her hands. The small pitcher and sugar bowl were shaped like a bucket and a watering can.
“So?”
Maureen poured milk into the watering can. “It’s unethical to date the father of a student.”
“What about this summer when she’s not your student anymore?” Michael leaned on the counter.
“It’s still an ethical gray area and I try to stay out of those.” She put the milk back in the fridge. “Is there a reason you’re trying to fix me up with another man?”
“Just wondering what you’ll do when I leave.”
She faced him. This was weird behavior. Really weird. “I was thinking about throwing myself off a tall building from grief. Would that be too much?”
Michael stared at her.
“It was a joke,” Maureen said. She took two coffee mugs out of the cupboard. The coffee pot gurgled to a finish.
“I figured,” he said after a too long pause.
A terrible joke. “Where is it you live anyway? You never said.”
“California.”
“North, south, someplace in the middle?” She could handle a bit of mystery in her life, but so far all she’d managed to find out about him was his passion for muscle cars and what he liked to watch on TV.
“South. Malibu.”
The name rang a vague bell, but she couldn’t place it. That only meant it wasn’t a state capitol. “Malibu? Isn’t that near Los Angeles?” She poured the coffee and held out a cup. It had bears holding up a sign that said, Teacher, I love you beary much.
“Yeah.” Michael took the cup and looked at it suspiciously.
“I know where I’ve heard of it now. Famous people live there.” Maureen put milk and sugar into her cup. “Have any famous neighbors?”
“Famous neighbors?” He held the cup like he’d forgotten what it was for.
“Yeah, famous neighbors. Do you want cream or sugar?” She shouldn’t have bothered. Now she had to wash them.
“No, thanks. I take it black.” Michael sipped from his cup. “I buy groceries at the same place as Rick Allen.”
“Oh, really? Is he an actor?”
“He’s a drummer.”
“He wasn’t in Toy Story?”
“No, he’s in Def Leppard.”
“Oh.” Maureen nodded. “That must be interesting. Do you want to go sit down in the living room?”
Michael stared at her for another beat. “Sure.”
She sat down sideways on the couch and curled her feet under her so she could face him. “Where are you from originally?”
“Detroit.”
“How did you end up in California?”
He shifted the cup around in his hand. “Work.”
“You didn’t want to go into business with your brother?” Maureen relaxed into the back of the couch, willing him to follow suit. He sat with both hands clutching the cup and both feet on the floor, looking less comfortable than if he were on the wrong side of the principal’s desk.
“No. What about you? Are you from around here?”
She shrugged. “Pretty close. I grew up in a little town about a hundred miles south of here, but they didn’t need any teachers when I needed a job.”
“You like it.”
“I love it. I wouldn’t do it otherwise. It’s too hard.”
Michael shifted toward her. “Really? Why’s it hard?”
“Lots of planning, lots of effort and sometimes that horse just won’t drink.”
“That little girl today seemed pretty excited about you.”
“She’s one of my fans. They aren’t all like that.”
Michael took a drink of his coffee and gestured to the bookshelf in the corner. “You have a lot of dinosaur books.”
“I like dinosaurs and I work with little boys who also like dinosaurs. What about you? Other than cars and The Simpsons, what do you like?”
He took one hand off the coffee cup, reached over and brushed his fingers down hers. “I’m