Just Another Day in Paradise. Justine Davis
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“Paige? You all right?” Miranda Mayfield, head of technical services and mother of two of her students, put a hand on her shoulder.
“Fine. Thank you.” She sounded completely unconvincing, even to herself. Miranda looked doubtful, and Paige tried to pull herself together. “It must have been the crowd,” she said. “I’ve gotten used to the quiet here.”
Miranda smiled. “It is that, isn’t it? Almost makes up for those rascals you’re trying to teach.”
Paige managed a smile. “They’re good kids.” Except for mine, at the moment, she amended silently.
“They like you. And you’re giving attention to all of them, despite the difference in ages. All the parents are pleased. We know that can’t be easy to accomplish.”
“Thank you,” Paige said again, meaning it this time. It was sweet of Miranda to tell her that.
When the woman had gone, Paige took in a deep breath of the balmy air. She was steadier now. Steady enough to marvel at how shaken she had felt just moments ago.
But perhaps it wasn’t so surprising. Not when she’d just been faced with the man who’d inspired her to the most impulsive thing she’d ever done in her generally traditional life. Her husband’s body not even brought home yet, and she’d shared a passionate embrace with a man she barely knew. An embrace that could easily have led to more, had the arrival of her son not interrupted them. Her recollection of that time wasn’t clear, was mercifully lost in a sort of fog, but that one vivid, shocking memory was forever seared into her mind.
She had been able, since then, to rationalize her actions. Given the circumstances—all of them—she obviously hadn’t been herself. But there was no analyzing away her reaction to the man. What she’d done, practically throwing herself at him, might have arisen out of her emotional state, but her response to him, to his mouth, to his hands on her, had been purely physical and unlike anything she’d ever known before or since.
And if she’d succeeded over the past five years in pushing him out of her mind, it had been made clear to her just now that her body remembered him perfectly. So perfectly it had nearly forgotten how to breathe when he’d walked into the room.
It made no sense. She knew who he was, what he was, that he was a globe-trotter of epic proportion. That alone should be enough to send her scurrying; she’d been down that road once and still carried the scars. But instead she had been drawn, aware not only of the piercing blue of his eyes and the male strength of his jaw but the empathy she’d seen in his eyes and the gentle touch of hands that somehow seemed to ease the pain.
And if the jump of her heart just now and the pounding that had followed when she had realized it really was him were any indication, she was still drawn. Powerfully. Painfully.
Foolishly. That above all. Noah Rider was many things, including good-looking, smart, trusted by the shrewd and brilliant Joshua Redstone, and a high-powered executive, just as her late husband had been. What he was not was a man for a woman like her. Or perhaps any woman. She’d heard his work came first, last and in between.
She heard the door open behind her again and wished she’d gone before the motherly Miranda had come back to check on her again. With a “Really, I’m fine” on her lips she began to turn. But she froze; the footsteps she heard did not belong to the petite, usually high-heeled Miranda. They were heavier, more solid. Male. Yes, definitely male.
She should truly have run when she’d had the chance.
The footsteps came to a halt behind her. Every muscle in her body seemed to tighten as she waited, holding her breath. It could be anyone, but she knew as clearly as if she’d turned to look who it was.
The silence spun out for a long, aching moment.
“Paige?”
She let out the breath she’d been holding, in a long, inaudible sigh. It took every bit of nerve she had to do it, but she turned to face him.
“Hello, Noah,” she said, softer than she would have liked, but more evenly than she’d expected. And then regretted it, when a faint flicker in those eyes reminded her he was usually referred to as Rider by everyone else.
For a long moment he just stood there, staring at her. He was as big as she remembered, at least six feet, a good eight inches taller than she. His hair was just as dark, and he wore the same kind of conservative gray suit—although because of the tropical locale, lighter weight this time—he had worn the last time she’d seen him.
And he still looked so incredibly strong. She had almost convinced herself that she’d only thought he was because she herself had been feeling so wobbly and weak at the time. But now she knew better.
“I didn’t know you would be here,” he said abruptly, the words coming out in a rush.
She took another quick, steadying breath to be sure her voice would come out normally.
“And I didn’t know the project coordinator would be you. Although I suppose I should have,” she added honestly.
Only after she’d spoken did the implication of his first words sink in. I didn’t know you would be here. Meaning what? That if he had, he wouldn’t have come? Would have made them send someone else? Had she embarrassed him that much, made him feel so awkward he would actually let it get in the way of his work? The thought made her so hideously self-conscious that she scrambled to fill the silence.
“I wanted to tell you—the project coordinator, I mean, that the school is really wonderful. You did an excellent job planning the modernization.”
He blinked once, his brows furrowed slightly, then he seemed to relax. So he had felt awkward, she thought. No doubt he was glad she’d brought up something so…safe.
“Keeping your family with you is one of the perks of working for Redstone.”
“So I’ve been told,” she said. Phil had never wanted to avail himself of that option.
But she also knew from the staff—whenever they weren’t talking about the problems brewing in nearby Arethusa—that the staff housing and the school were directly overseen by the coordinator. “But I know the coordinator made several changes and additions to the school plans, and they’ve worked out very well for the children.”
His mouth quirked at one corner. “I figured the indoor plumbing would be a hit.”
Paige blushed, wondering if he was inwardly laughing at her. Perhaps he always had been. Poor, new widow, throwing herself at the first man who tried to comfort her. Maybe that’s all she was to him, a slightly embarrassing, mostly pitiful memory. She couldn’t blame him for that. It’s how she thought of herself back then, too. But she was stronger now. Much stronger. He’d no longer find much trace of the wobbly, uncertain woman she’d been in those days after Phil’s death.
“I had more in mind the computer center,” she said, making her voice match her more determined thoughts. “The kids are already using it, even ones who’ve never seen a computer before.”
One dark brow lowered, as if at the new intonation in her words. “I’m glad to hear that. There was some…discussion over the extra construction it took for the wiring.”
She read between the lines and said, “Thank you for fighting for it, then.”
He shrugged. “Wasn’t much of a fight. They knew if it got all the way to Josh, he’d approve it.” His forehead creased. “Is your son with you?”
“Yes and no,” Paige said wryly, then regretted the words. Her problems with Kyle weren’t something she wanted to discuss, least of all with this man.
“Does that mean he’s here physically but not mentally?”
“Exactly,” she said, surprised he’d gotten her meaning so quickly. “He’s not happy with me for making him leave L.A.”
Rider