Unsuitable (11 page)

Carrie felt sick. She went pale and gripped the back of her chair with trembling fingers. “I think you’d better go,” she whispered.

He was at her side in a second, turning her to face him. She shrugged him off as she struggled not to break down.

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to hold her. “I didn’t mean that. But don’t put me off with these stupid rules, Carrie. Don’t hide behind them.”

“They’re not stupid rules. This is my job; it’s all I have. I haven’t got a horse ranch or an Apparoosa or a beautiful son. Now let me go. You’re bigger and stronger than I am, Jason. We don’t have to prove it here.”

He released her. “Appaloosa,” he said.

“Whatever. I have to leave. Will you please get out of my way?”

He didn’t move. “Carrie, I know I’m going about this all wrong.”

“At least we agree on something.” She tried to walk around him and he waltzed her into a corner.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked him, almost in tears.

“Because I can’t help feeling that I frightened you the night of the storm and that’s the real reason you’re saying no. All this stuff about professional ethics is just a smokescreen, a dodge to avoid me.”

She glared at him in amazement. “How can you say that?
You’re
the one who’s been avoiding
me!
I’ve been to your house three times and it was like you had disappeared. All of a sudden Rose and I are becoming fast friends. The poor woman thinks she has to entertain me because the master of the house has done a magical vanishing act.”

He stepped back from her and looked away. “I had a few things to sort out,” he said tonelessly.

“Oh, I see. And now that you’ve done that you show up here and start ordering me around.”

“I’m not ordering you around! I asked you for a date!”

“That’s not the way it sounded to me!” Carrie countered, her chin thrust forward belligerently.

They were almost shouting, their voices rising in mutual frustration. Jason suddenly held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. He took a deep breath and let it out explosively.

“Will you tell me one thing honestly?” he asked.

She eyed him levelly. “If I can.”

“Did I scare you the night you spent at my house?”

She dropped her gaze. “A little. But I’m over it now.”

“Are you?”

She looked at him again. “Yes.”

“Then can’t you give me another chance? I mean, if you weren’t John’s teacher would you go with me?”

“I’d go with you,” she answered. Anywhere, she added silently.

“Good. I’ll take care of it.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked warily.

“I’ll keep Johnny out of school for the rest of the semester and get another tutor. That way your official relationship will end and so will the problem.”

Carrie’s heart leaped. Maybe there was a way. But then logic asserted itself.

“He’s been making such progress, Jason. I don’t want to interrupt that.”

Jason moved forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “You won’t. He’s been making progress because of his relationship with you and that won’t change. You don’t have to be his teacher to be his friend.”

Carrie hesitated, feeling that it was selfish to put her own needs before those of the child.

Jason knew what she was thinking. “Let me do it, Carrie. This way will be best for all of us.” He touched her cheek. “I have to be able to see you.”

She closed her eyes. “All right.” When she opened them again she saw the clock over Jason’s shoulder.

“Look at the time,” she moaned. “I’m going to be late. My friend is giving a performance in Hartford tonight and I promised her I would be there.” She grabbed her purse and turned for the door.

Jason stepped in front of her.

“Would you please stop doing that?” she said, almost crashing into him.

“I’ll take you.”

Carrie smiled. “You don’t even know what it is.”

“I don’t care.”

Carrie couldn’t resist him. “The curtain time is seven-thirty.”

“I’ll pick you up at six-thirty. That should leave plenty of time for the trip to Hartford.”

“Okay.”

He looked down at her, his eyes lambent.

“Don’t you want to know what you should wear?” Carrie asked softly.

He grinned indulgently. “What should I wear?”

“A suit. It’s a performance of the Olde City Dance Troupe out of Boston. My friend has the lead in
The Firebird.”

He nodded. “Can I get tickets at the box office?”

“I have tickets.”

“Two?”

“Two.”

“But you were going by yourself?” he persisted. “You didn’t have a date?”

“No, I didn’t have a date.”

He nodded slowly, satisfied. “Can I walk you out?”

Carrie glanced at the barred door. “You’d better not. The teacher across the hall has telescopic vision. I don’t want any rumors starting before you’ve had a chance to change Johnny’s schedule.”

“All right. I’ll go first.” He traced her lips with a forefinger and the small gesture almost undid her. She turned her head, rubbing her cheek against his hand.

“I want to kiss you,” he said, reaching for her.

“Not here,” she whispered.

“Yes, here.”

“Lois Bonner...”

“The hell with her,” he said, his mouth coming down on hers. He kissed her urgently. She forgot everything but the taste and feel of his lips, the softness of his sweater under her hands contrasted with the hard, spare torso it covered. Oh, Jason, she thought. All the uncertainty was worth this moment.

“Six-thirty,” he said huskily, releasing her.

Carrie’s eyes remained closed a second longer, and when she opened them he was replacing the desk where it had been originally.

“Thank you, Miss Maxwell,” he said in a booming voice, opening the door and projecting his farewell into the hall. “It was kind of you to take the time to go over John’s test with me.”

Carrie stuffed her fist in her mouth to keep from laughing. He was overdoing it by a mile, falling just short of a vaudeville routine.

“And let me know about that book report,” he yelled as Carrie waved him out, sagging against the wall, helpless. He slammed the door so hard it rattled on its hinges.

I trust you heard that Lois, Carrie thought. Everyone in the local graveyard did. She picked up her briefcase and waited until Jason’s tall form disappeared around the corner. Then she headed for the office, humming under her breath.

* * * *

Jason drove back to the ranch, smoking three cigarettes on the way. He put his window down at the last stoplight and tapped ashes into the street.

Well, he had almost blown it but managed to pull it out of the abyss at the end. It had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed to work up the nerve to go and see her. Then when she had given him that pat little speech about conflict of interest he’d been sure it was over between them. Hurt, certain that he had failed, he’d lashed out at her with that stupid remark about her forgetting her scruples in his bed. He winced now as he thought of it. Good work, McClain. It was a wonder she hadn’t thrown him out for good. But no, she wasn’t like that. Any other woman would have, but not Carrie.

He took a last drag and dropped the cigarette out the window. After his behavior the night she was stranded he’d been convinced she thought he was a lecher, a psychiatric case, or both. Humiliated, he’d stayed away from her until he simply couldn’t stand it any longer. He’d been drawn to the school that day as if by a supernatural force. And then once he arrived he’d tried to bludgeon her into doing what he wanted. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Why was he acting like such an idiot? Seventh graders in junior high behaved with more finesse. He had regressed to the point where primal instincts took over and he was at their mercy.

He had never wanted anything in his life the way he wanted Carrie Maxwell.

She was his chance, his salvation, and he knew it. The specter of Louise receded further every time he saw her. The result was simple: he was so worried about driving her away that he had almost done just that.

The light changed and he pulled forward, intent on getting home and getting ready for the evening ahead.

* * * *

Carrie unlocked her door and dropped her things on the hall stand, going directly upstairs to run a bath. Since she had planned to go to Gloria’s performance by herself she hadn’t given much thought to her toilette. Now that Jason was taking her, she wanted the time to dress carefully and make sure she looked her best.

This plan was foiled as she trotted past the bathroom in her underwear and noticed that the hot water tap was geysering a boiling stream onto the floor. Inwardly screaming, she ran down to the basement and shut off the water main, bolting back up the stairs to mop up the flood on the ceramic tile. She was just finishing this task and contemplating an unappetizing cold shower when the doorbell rang.

It couldn’t be six-thirty. But it was. Carrie yanked on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, dismissing any idea of dazzling Jason with her glamorous appearance. In this outfit she looked like a fourteen-year-old boy.

When she opened the door, Jason looked her over and then glanced down at himself. He was wearing a slate gray three piece suit with a cream shirt and a gray striped tie. He had a light topcoat over his arm.

“I don’t think we’re going to the same party,” he said finally.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Carrie said. “I’m glad you found the house all right.”

“The estate is pretty hard to miss,” Jason replied dryly, stepping in and looking around the first floor. “This is nice,” he added.

“But old,” Carrie replied. “Which brings me to the reason for my unsuitable attire. The hot water tap in my bathroom decided to turn into Old Faithful. I guess the washer quit or something. Anyway, the floor up there looks like the catch basin of the Grand Coulee Dam. The plumbing in this place was installed about the time George and Martha got married.”

Jason grinned, putting down his coat. “What did you do?”

“I turned off the water in the basement but beyond that I’m helpless. I hate when these things happen. They make me feel like such a...”

“Woman?” he suggested, and she threw him a dirty look.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, stripping off his jacket and loosening his tie. “Go up and get your things together. I’ll have the bathroom ready for you in a few minutes.”

“Really?” she asked doubtfully.

“Do you have a toolbox?” he asked.

“Sure. I even know how to use some of the stuff in there. I’ll get it.”

When Carrie returned from the garage with the toolbox Jason was already crouched on the floor next to the tub, playing around with the recalcitrant tap. His freshly starched shirt was opened at the collar, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He was whistling.

“Great,” he said, when she lifted the top to reveal the contents of the box. “Got a socket wrench?”

Carrie took a stab at it and retrieved a murderous looking object from the bottom, extending it to him.

He looked at it, then at her. “That’s a monkey wrench,” he said.

She tried again. She must have hit it right because he accepted it without comment, removing the cap from the tap with it. She was about to sneak out of the room when he said, “Got a thumbnail washer?”

“Jason, I don’t even know what that is.”

“I thought you said it was the washer,” he said logically, looking up at her. His bright hair was spangled with water from the drenched shower curtain.

“Do I look like a plumber?” she demanded, her hands on her hips. “I only said that because when things go wrong with taps it’s usually the washer, isn’t it?”

He shuddered. “I’m glad you’re not repairing my bathroom,” he said ominously.

“It must be obvious by now that I can’t repair my own,” she said through clenched teeth. “Now are you going to make good on your boast that you would, and I quote, ‘take care of it,’ or do I call Drain Savers?”

“Who?” he said, his eyes widening.

“You know, those people who advertise on television. ‘If you have a pain in your drain, you’ll be in luck with our truck.’ They have a mobile service and come to your house with a van full of plumbing equipment.”

He was laughing helplessly, the wrench dangling from his hand. “You are priceless,” he said, when he could talk.

“I hope Gloria thinks so when we arrive an hour late for her performance,” Carrie said pointedly.

“Go away,” he said, waving her out of the room and returning to the tub. Carrie had a last glimpse of him kneeling again before she pulled the door closed behind her.

Ten minutes later he knocked at her bedroom door. “All done,” he said. “You can go in anytime.”

“Thank you,” she called breathlessly, wondering whether he would try to come into the room.

“I’ll be downstairs,” he added, answering her question.