Teacher's Pet Read Free Page A

things just weren’t ‘done’, as the British would say.
    “Mr. Richmond?”
    He looked up into Allie’s questioning, light blue gaze.  Her eyes seemed to be looking into him rather than at him.  Focusing swiftly on her mouth, he took a sip of wine before answering.  Gradually, the Spanish red began to warm his chest, giving him another sensation to concentrate on.
    “I’m sorry.  I was miles away,” he said, studying the contours of her lips.  Damn.  This old tactic wasn’t working .  Every part of her was demanding his attention.  “Please, call me Paul.”  He put down his wine glass.  “Except when the kids are in earshot, that is,” he added, drawn to her eyes again.
    “Sorry…. Paul.”  Even the way she said his name was sexy. Something to do with the English vowel sounds, no doubt, he told himself hastily.  Or the wine.  Nothing more .  He had to focus on what she was saying, rather than her voice.  Otherwise, he was doomed.
    “Yes, Mrs. Johnson,” he managed, eventually.  She smiled and shook her head slowly.  Chasing away the rather worrying idea that she might be able to read his mind, he continued.  “Sorry.  Allie .  I’m all ears.”
    “So I see,” she laughed.  “I was just wondering whether you’d like some more salad.”
    “More salad.”  Repeating the words helped him direct his thoughts.  “Yes.”  He pulled the bowl towards his plate.  “Thanks.”
    As he helped himself, Allie got up to refill the water jug.  Paul found his eyes drawn to her legs: smooth, tanned and shapely under her cotton skirt.  Much more interesting to look at than salad tongs and lettuce.
    Her voice cut into his musings.  “So how long are you planning on staying in England?”
    He took a deep breath.  “I’m not sure really.  I’ll see how it goes.  At least one school year.  For the kids’ sake.”
    She poured him a glass of water and sat down.
    “And what brought you here?  I mean, from Canada to London….. Why would anyone want to do that?”  Her eyes were twinkling now.  “It doesn’t sound logical to me.  Canada’s a beautiful country.  Or seems to be.  On the telly, I mean.  I’ve never been there.”
    He felt himself smile.  “London has its fair share of beauty.”  He grimaced inwardly.  Where were these lines coming from? “It’s…quaint.  Old fashioned.  Er, cute.  It has soul.”
    She giggled.  “Now you’re beginning to sound like an American tourist.”
    “I sound nothing like an American.”  He raised his eyebrows in mock outrage.  “There is a world of difference between that accent and mine.  Mine, if you’ll notice, is much softer.”  His smile became broader.  “Much nicer.”
    He noticed her expression darken fleetingly.
    “So Melanie tells me.”  She looked away for a moment.  When she looked back, the darkness was gone.  “Billy’s mum,” she added softly.
    “Yes.  I know Mel…. Mrs. Hampton.”  He checked his voice, injecting just the right amount of casualness.  Or so he hoped.  “Billy’s a great kid.  So happy.  And he’s adjusted really well to me being his new teacher.  Considering how hard it is for children like him to accept change of any kind…” 
    And he steered the con versation in a new direction, as they began to talk about children with special needs, their inclusion into mainstream schools and the differences between Canada and the UK.  An objective debate, he thought. Safe subjects.  And nothing at all to do with Melanie Hampton.
     
     
    “Would you like more coffee?”  Allie knew she would pay for the espresso-induced buzz at 8pm with a sudden awakening at 3am, but she no longer cared.  She was enjoying talking to Paul so much that she didn’t want him to leave.  If caffeine was what it took to keep him in her house, then so be it.
    He pushed his plate away and smiled.  “Yes please.”
    “Shall we sit in the garden?  It’s warm enough.”
    He nodded, got up