Gift of Fortune (12 page)

Quint was waiting for her in the hall. Aileen didn't know
if the sight of him or her mad rush down the stairs had made her breathless. Wearing gray slacks, a navy jacket,
and a white shirt with a discreetly patterned tie, he wouldn't
be out of place in any social situation in the county. Or the
state, or-

"Will I do?" he asked with an amused expression.

He had caught her staring! She was glad she had been
only staring rather than drooling. He certainly looked good
enough to be gazed at covetously, breathlessly, adoringly.
She tried to imagine what it would feel like to trace those
high cheekbones, to kiss that smiling mouth, to.... Aileen
felt heat rise all the way to her coiled hair. Reining in her
wayward thoughts, she murmured, "You were right. You
clean up nicely."

"Well, thank you, ma'am," he drawled. "You don't look
half bad yourself. This...color looks terrific on you."

Picking up on his brief hesitation, she asked,
"This... color? I always tell my students to be precise. What would
you call the color of my dress?" She softened the challenge
in her voice with a smile.

Quint took the opportunity to let his eyes travel lazily
from her high-heel-clad feet to the top of her hair. He tried
to keep his gaze from lingering too long on her dress. Not
that it was too low cut. But ordinarily she wore such
buttoned-up, schoolmarmish clothes that this dress took his
breath away. It showed off her slender, creamy neck. He
swallowed a couple of times.

"The color of my dress?" she prompted.

He rubbed his freshly shaved chin. "You got me. Well,
it's obviously blue, but beyond that, I don't know what to
call the color. Except..."

"Except? Go on."

"As I think back, almost every Madonna in every Mexican church I've been in wore a mantle of that color."

"Very good! Madonna blue is descriptive and evocative,"
she told him, her voice delighted.

"Yeah? Do I get an A?" he asked with a grin.

His sexy grin definitely merited an A. Quint took a step
closer and righted the pendant on her chain. Those pesky
butterflies picked up the tempo of the dance.

"Do I get an A?" he repeated softly.

"Possibly. If the rest of the writing measured up."

"I knew it. You're a tough grader."

"Have to be. Otherwise the kids get lazy." Just like her
voice, which had sunk to a low murmur.

"Lazy?" Quint asked, his voice husky. He was still
touching the pendant.

"Lazy, as in they don't bother to think, and I get a lot
of blah words like nice, cute, okay, cool." She felt that if
he didn't move his finger, she might do something fatally
unwise, like melting against him and begging him to kiss
her or just grabbing him and kissing him with shameless
abandon.

Quint stepped back. "I think we better go."

They arrived at the school at the last moment, escaping
the obligatory mingling that preceded the dinner. Small talk
never counting among her favorite pastimes, Aileen was
glad to have been spared the pre-dinner chatter.

The committee in charge of the event had made an attempt to turn the functional cafeteria festive, with white
paper tablecloths and pots of red and white geraniums. A
sophomore, acting as usher, led them to one of the front
tables. Aileen felt as if every eye in the place watched them
walk across the cafeteria.

Aileen introduced Quint to Dora and the rest of the people at their table: Sam Jensen, chairman of the school board
and feed-store owner, his wife, Myrtle, and two sets of
proud parents and their inductees.

The ladies of the cafeteria served the meal family-style,
and although talk was general while they passed the various
bowls and platters, Aileen steeled herself for the inevitable
question about Quint. When it came, its lack of subtlety
surprised her.

"So, Quint, what line of work are you in?" Sam Jensen
asked.

Everyone at the table stopped chewing, or so it appeared
to Aileen. Before Quint could respond, she said, "Quint is
the new half owner of the Triangle B."

Sam Jensen's mouth hung open for a second before the
usually smooth-talking board member recovered from his
surprise. "Well, I'll be. Jack Bolton would have sooner
parted with his right hand than an inch of that land. He
must be rolling over in his grave."

"I doubt that," Aileen said. "It was his idea."

Sam's deep-set eyes studied Quint. "You knew Jack?"

"In a manner of speaking. He was my father."

The absolute silence that followed Quint's announcement
hung heavily over the table.

"Then you and Aileen are brother and sister?" Myrtle
Jensen asked.

"No, Mrs. Jensen, Quint and I are not related at all. The
Boltons adopted me," Aileen explained.

"Oh."

Myrtle Jensen's mouth formed a perfect circle. Her small
nose twitched like a rabbit's having caught an interesting
scent. Aileen prepared herself to be interrogated.

"And you're living at the ranch?" Myrtle asked Quint.

"Of course he lives at the ranch," Dora interjected in her
best teacher's voice. "You can't run a ranch from town.
Even you, Myrtle, ought to know that."

Aileen didn't miss the narrowed eyes and the pursed
mouth. The school board member's wife suspected that she
and Quint were sleeping together. Remembering the
charged scene before they left for the dinner, Aileen had
to admit that Myrtle's intuition wasn't that far off the mark. If Quint hadn't kept his head.... Aileen trembled to think
of what might have happened.

"Looks like the program is about to begin," Dora said,
effectively cutting off whatever else Myrtle had planned to
ask.

When the ceremony ended and Aileen had congratulated
the inductees and their parents, she went into the gym.

The junior class had decorated the gym with paper flowers, streamers, and balloons. They had even swathed the
bright ceiling lights with white gauze, bathing the huge
room in a gentle, diffused light.

The DJ's music made conversation difficult. Quint bent
down to ask Aileen, "Can we dance?"

She shook her head. She cupped her hand around her
mouth and spoke into his ear. "Not yet. We are chaperones
for the first hour." Aileen hadn't noticed how shapely his
ear was. She felt the crazy desire to nibble on his earlobe.
And then trail kisses along his throat-

"What exactly are we looking for as chaperones?" he
asked.

"Somebody spiking the punch. Incipient arguments.
Couples smooching in the shadowy corners."

"Seems a shame to interfere with young love."

"Might be more a case of raging hormones," she replied.

Quint could identify with those. It took considerable
willpower not to drag Aileen into one of those shadowy
corners and steal a few kisses. Ever since he'd seen the
undisguised admiration in her eyes when she'd come down
the stairs, he'd had to concentrate hard on not staring at
her with eyes that revealed his attraction.

"Let's circulate," she said.

Quint stayed by her side as they moved around the gym
for the next hour.

When they were relieved by the gym teacher and his wife, Quint made a quick grab for Aileen's hand and led
her onto the dance floor. Even if she had wanted to pull
away, she doubted that Quint would have let her. And she
did want to dance with him.

The first two dances were fast. Aileen felt as if her pulse
echoed the throbbing thump of the drums. Her senses
hummed, her body felt light-almost liquid-as she moved
to the seductive cadence of the music. They didn't touch
each other except with their eyes.

The third number was a slow, soft ballad of yearning and
love. Even though Aileen knew it would be prudent to
leave the dance floor, she hesitated, and, hesitating, she
found herself promptly wrapped in Quint's arms. She had
noticed earlier how tightly the couples held each other during the slow dances. Almost as if their bodies were fused
together.

"Quint," she said. "Quint? Don't you think you're holding me too close?"

"No. This is the perfect music for slow dancing, and you
can't dance to this beat if you're a foot apart."

"I wasn't talking about a foot, but how about a couple
of inches? I am a teacher, and I don't think-"

"You think too much. I believe I've mentioned that before? Relax, Aileen. Listen to the rhythm of the music and
go with it. Enjoy it."

If anything, Quint held her even tighter. Aileen knew she
couldn't win this argument short of making a scene. She
didn't want to make a scene. Actually, if he'd given her
the space she asked for, she probably would have been a
little disappointed. And she was enjoying herself.

She'd never known that something as simple as dancing
could be so pleasurable, so sensuous. Except dancing
wasn't really simple. Hadn't she read somewhere that it
was originally a part of the mating ritual? Best not to think about that. Aileen closed her eyes, but that only made her
other senses more receptive. She felt Quint's breath feather
against her temple. She inhaled his scent, which wove itself
around her like a magic circle.

When the music stopped, she murmured an excuse and
hastened to the ladies' room. She needed to douse her face
with cold water.

The two girls drying their hands apparently hadn't noticed Aileen's entrance.

"I had no idea Ms. Bolton could dance like that," the
brunette said. "So sexy!"

"Speaking of sexy. Did you get a good look at her date?"
the redhead asked.

"Oh yeah. Isn't he to die for? I could hardly keep my
eyes off him," the brunette said, her expression dreamy.
"Especially when they were dancing."

"He looks a little like Antonio Banderas, only even more
handsome. Where did she find him? Think we could ask
Ms. Bolton if he has any brothers?" the redhead asked.
"There sure is nobody like him at school. He's so hot!"

"I quite agree with you," Aileen said with a smile when
the girls became aware of her. "And he doesn't have a
brother. Sorry." Both girls blushed crimson, stammered
several embarrassed excuses, and sidled out past Aileen.

Aileen washed her hands and dabbed her hot face with
a wet paper towel. Then she rejoined Dora and Quint.

Taking one look at Aileen, Dora asked, "What's the matter?"

"I just realized that by tomorrow, Quint's ownership of
half the ranch will be all over town," Aileen said with a
sigh.

"Wrong," Dora said and grimaced. "Knowing Myrtle
Jensen the way I do, it'll be all over the county before
midnight."

"Great," Aileen murmured.

"She's one of my failures. She was in my homeroom for
four years. I tried to instill a little tact in her and develop
some character, but here clearly nature triumphed over nurture. Her mother was a brainless chatterbox and gossip too,
may she rest in peace. Well, we can't win them all," Dora
said, patting Aileen's shoulder. "Here's my ride."

They said their good nights in the parking lot. Hugging
Aileen, Dora whispered, "Your description of Quint didn't
do him justice. He's not only handsome, he's intelligent
and, I suspect, passionate and caring. He just might be a
keeper."

On the way back to the ranch, Aileen was silent. Quint
stole glances at her, trying to gauge her mood. Finally he
asked, "Did I do something wrong? Disgrace you in some
way?"

"No, of course, not. What makes you ask that?"

"Your silence. You seem to be fretting about something."

"Not fretting, exactly."

"Then what, exactly?"

"I'm not sure. I'm uneasy. I didn't like the way Myrtle
Jensen kept looking at us," Aileen admitted.

"As if she wondered if we shared a bed?"

Aileen felt heat shoot into her face. "You had that feeling, too?"

"It was written all over her. I wondered if she was going
to find a way to ask us straight out."

"If the program hadn't started when it did, she might
have. I bet half of my students there tonight wondered the
same thing."

"Only half?" Quint asked, trying to interject some humor
into the situation. "I must be getting old." He studied her
reaction. Aileen's face was grave. "Aileen, I was joking."

"I know."

"What else is making you so uneasy?" he asked.

"A guilty conscience, maybe?"

"You have nothing to feel guilty about. We've done
nothing wrong," Quint insisted.

Not yet, that small voice in her mind whispered.

Quint watched her clench her hands. "But you don't like
being gossiped about," he guessed shrewdly.

"I don't. Besides that, I'm a teacher. My behavior is
supposed to be exemplary."

"From where I'm sitting, it is. And anybody who says
differently will have to deal with me."

Judging by the set of his chin and mouth, Quint meant
that. Aileen had never had a man offer to fight in her defense. "You make me feel like some noble lady whose
honor has been maligned."