“You comeintoit,” she said, “because George is in Stacey’s class, and he and Georgia told the other kids at recess all about Wellington and the earthquake,andthat you and I were probably getting married. Where they came up with that, I have noidea. But they did.”
“Oh.” He scratched his nose. “And this Stacey heard about it and caused trouble. Again …”
“I’m trying to tell you, all right? So I got called in at lunchtime. To Monica’s office. Monica Rumsfeld. With whom you’re also acquainted, aren’t you?”
“I met her today for the first time. Which you obviously know.”
“I do. Because I had to respond to the we’re-getting-married thing, which I did admirably—well, notadmirably,as I fudged a wee bit there?—”
“Which is OK,” he said, “as we’re getting that sorted now, with moving Georgia.”
“Which I wouldn’t havedone,”she said, “if you’d told me you were going to go in there and tell her we wanted to date each other! After I’d just said we were only acquainted, and it was our grandparents having the romance! I looked like a liar. Which, of course, I was.”
“Oh.” He thought about that. “Well, yeh. Awkward.”
“You think?” She was glaring now. Fired up like … well, like a ginger. Exciting, to tell the truth.
“Sorry,” he said. “I won’t have another day off for a week and it was on my mind, so I went ahead and did it. That was clearly the big obstacle, so why not remove it?”
“Did it occur to you that you should haveaskedme?”
“You were teaching,” he pointed out. “What’s the protocol there, by the way?”
“The what?” She was blinking at him now.
“If I need to talk to you. Do I stand outside the room and make faces, or what? I didn’t know. That’s why I didn’t do it.”
“No. The kids are five and six. They’re not exactly reliable when left alone, and anyway, it’s a bad look. If Granddad needs to tell me something, he texts me, and I ring him back at lunchtime. If he needed me in person, he’d come to school then, when I’m free. I suppose so, anyway, because he’s never done it. Why?”
“How long is your break?” he asked.
“Thirty minutes.Why?”
“Oh. Not much time for it, then. Although a spot of quick sex in the supply cupboard …” He sighed. “Standing up. I’ve always liked that. Dunno why. Spontaneous, I reckon. Exciting. Also forbidden, which is always good.”
She was staring at him. “Pardon?”
“Just sussing out the possibilities. Now that we’re moving Georgia, that is.”
“Did I say that we’re dating? Did you miss that I’m narky as hell with you right now?”
“No,” he said. “That’s why I thought of it. You’re exciting when you’re fired up. Also, I said I was sorry. I’ll say it again if you like. I should’ve talked to you about it first. Left that text, like you said, come and talked to you, then talked to the principal about Georgia. Or talked to the principal with you, maybe. I see that now. I just wanted to get it done. I can tend to be more on the decisive side.”
“Oh, is that what you call it.” She was having some trouble holding onto the anger, though.
“Generally,” he said. “Sounds better than ‘arrogant bastard.’”
She laughed. She probably didn’t want to, but she did. In afrustrated sort of way, but still. “I appreciated that at the weekend,” she said. “After the earthquake, and … and later. But in this situation?—”
“Besides,” he went on, “you don’t want that mild type, whatever you tell yourself.”
“How do you know? Maybe I long for a man like that, and I’m just using you until I snag him.”
“Hmm.” He was smiling now, and she was trying not to. He also had a hand in her curls and an arm around her waist. “How long have you worked with this David fella?”
“Two … years.” It was a gasp, because he’d pulled her damp curls back and was kissing her neck. Skylar’s neck was wondrous territory: slim, white, and smooth. The exact opposite of his own, and that silky skin was sensitive as hell, too. He knew, because he was doing it better now, and she was gasping and hanging on to him.
“We should—” she managed to say. “We should ...”
