The Spaniard's Summer Seduction. Cathy Williams

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СКАЧАТЬ of schools, Mr. Whitley, yet you keep moving on. And it seems there are a number of years when you haven’t taught at all.”

      “A number of years?” He raised an eyebrow at her, unable to resist the urge to tease, though he suspected he might pay for it later.

      But she wasn’t about to banter with him. “You graduated from A & M, getting an education degree with distinction when you were twenty-one,” the principal said. “In the fifteen years since then, it appears to me that you’ve worked about eight school terms, or slightly more than half the time. What do you do when you’re not teaching, Mr. Whitley?”

      Jim couldn’t keep from staring at those soft curving lips…

      “What do you do when you’re not being a principal, Ms. Osborne?”

      Again that enchanting shadow of color touched her cheeks, as soft and lovely as the bloom on a wild rose, or the first colors of dawn painting the eastern sky.

      “I’m not the one applying for employment,” she said stiffly. “So I hardly need to—”

      “You’re right.” Jim repented again when he saw how uncomfortable he was making her. “You’re absolutely right. And I’ll answer your question, ma’am. What I do when I’m not teaching is travel the rodeo circuit.”

      “Rodeo?” she repeated blankly, as if he’d said he was an elephant trainer. “A schoolteacher who travels to rodeos?”

      “It’s not as rare as you’d think.” Jim gave her a sunny smile, wishing she could relax and smile back at him. “There are a lot of guys like me who love teaching, but also love the rodeo. Teaching is certainly a more secure way to make a living. Plus, if a guy ever makes the huge error of getting married and tied down,” he added, his smile broadening, “at least he’s got the whole summer free to take in some local rodeos here and there.”

      “I see. But you seem to take more than the summers.”

      “I’ve never been tied down,” he said casually, “though I came close a few times, back in my wild and careless youth. What I like to do is take a year off now and then to hit the road full-time. I travel the western states and up into Canada and collect enough points to qualify for the national finals in Las Vegas. Years when I’m feeling lazy, or when I’m packing some kind of injury, I just settle down somewhere and teach school for a couple of semesters.”

      “It sounds like a very pleasant life,” she said.

      Jim examined the woman’s face closely. There was something at the back of her eyes…

      “What’s wrong?” he asked abruptly, forgetting the purpose of the interview.

      “I…don’t know what you mean.”

      “You look like you’ve been crying,” he said, “or at least trying hard not to. Is there something bothering you?”

      “Nothing that’s any concern of yours.” Her face was remote again, devoid of expression, and she riffled briskly through the papers on her desk. “Now, about this job application…”

      He got up, holding his hat. “Ms. Osborne,” he said gently.

      She looked up at him in surprise.

      “You know, and I know,” Jim said, “that I’m the best applicant you’re going to get. We both know I can handle those kids, and give you the kind of results you need. So let’s just dispense with all the preliminaries and get me on the payroll. Then I can start helping you with this class, and also move into some kind of permanent residence.”

      He thought she’d fire up at that and object to being pushed around, but she didn’t. She just nodded thoughtfully and looked at the papers under her hands.

      “Where are you living now?” she asked.

      “I’m staying out at J. T. McKinney’s ranch, in the guest house. Cal McKinney’s been a friend of mine since we were both kids,” Jim added with a fond, reminiscent smile. “You wouldn’t believe the kind of hell we used to get into.”

      “Yes, I’ve met Cal, and I’m sure I would believe it.” This time, he thought there might actually be a trace of a smile deep in those blue eyes. “So you don’t intend to keep living at the Double C?”

      “It’s been real good of them to have me, but I think J.T. and Cynthia would like their guest house back soon. The idea was that I’d stay there until I found a job. And since I have a job now,” he added calmly, “it’s time for me to move out.”

      “If I choose to offer you this position,” she told him with a brief show of spirit, though both of them knew she was ready to give in, “where would you move? There aren’t a lot of rental places available in Crystal Creek, you know.”

      “I already talked to June Pollock,” he said. “We were neighbors as kids, and we’ve always been friends. She has a big old house down by the river, with a nice second-floor apartment she’s willing to rent out. So I’ll just go over there and tell her—”

      “June Pollock?” the woman interrupted him. Her air of cool reserve had deserted her for a moment and she looked almost panicky. “You’re planning to live in the Pollock house?”

      “Why not?” Jim fitted his hat on his head and paused by the door, watching her curiously. “Is that against some kind of school regulation?”

      “Of course not. It’s just that…” The principal bit her lip and looked down at her hands, folded tensely on the desktop. “I happen to…I live in June Pollock’s house myself, in the third-floor apartment.”

      “No kidding?” He stared at her in astonishment. “Well, I didn’t know that, Ms. Osborne. June never said a word about it.”

      “June’s not exactly what you’d call a chatty person,” Lucia said dryly.

      “No,” he agreed. “June’s not chatty.” He smiled at her bent head, and the delicate line of her neck with its glossy tendrils of short hair. “So you live there, too. I’ll be damned.”

      “Mr. Whitley…”

      “It’ll be fun,” he told her with an easy grin. “You can make friends with my dog and take her for walks. We’ll have popcorn in the evening and play Scrabble. I’m a hell of a Scrabble player, you know.”

      “I’m afraid we’ll do nothing of the sort.” She gave him a cold, dismissive glance designed to chill any man right to the bone. “I’ll call you if I decide to offer you the job, Mr. Whitley.”

      Jim responded with another sunny grin and tipped his hat at her, then moved toward the door.

      “Mr. Whitley,” she said behind him.

      “Yes, ma’am?” He paused and turned.

      “Which is it this time?”

      “I beg your pardon?”

      “You said you tended to stop traveling and teach school for a year whenever you felt lazy or had been injured. I wondered which of those might be the case at this moment.”

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