Mr. March gave me a tight smile. “Call me Thomas,” he said. “Hannah, in here!”
I expected to see a little girl run into the room, but instead a gorgeous girl in her mid-twenties came waltzing in, wiggling her hips from side to side. She was beautiful, with long blonde hair and pale skin. I flushed again – was this his wife? His girlfriend?
“This is my assistant, Hannah,” Thomas said. “Hannah, this is June – Brett's teacher.”
Hannah smiled with her mouth but not with her eyes. “Pleased,” she simpered. She sat down and scooted close – very close – to Thomas.
“Hannah's just helping me out with some things this afternoon,” Thomas said. “I hope you don't mind that she came.”
Hannah glared at me.
“No, it's fine,” I said quickly. “Look, I know you're probably really busy, so I'll get right to the point. Brett is a smart kid – I can tell, just by listening to him talk. But he's been picking on another student, even going so far as to yank her hair. He made her cry yesterday,” I added. “I'm sorry to be the one to tell you.”
Thomas scowled.
“That's just how kids are,” Hannah said flippantly. She tossed her blonde locks over one shoulder. “He probably has a crush on her.”
“Hannah, please,” Thomas said curtly. “This isn't about you.”
Hannah sulked and I had to suppress a grin.
“That's a pretty outdated way of looking at things,” I said, trying to keep my voice as even as possible. “We take physical assault very seriously at P.S. 151, and Brett can't attack this girl again without being written up and sent to the principal.”
Thomas nodded. He looked very stern, and a thrill shot down my back.
“Of course,” Thomas said. “Please, discipline Brett as you see fit.” He sighed, raking a hand through his silver-threaded hair. “The family is...going through a bit of a rough time right now,” he added. “And it isn't fair for Brett to take his frustrations out on any of his classmates.”
I nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and curiosity. Just what was going on with the family, and why was it bothering Brett? I glanced at Hannah again, wondering if she was Thomas's mistress.
“Again, I apologize,” Thomas said. I could tell that despite his apparent lack of emotional warmth, he was sincere.
“It's nothing,” I said. “I just want to make sure Brett is doing alright.”
Thomas nodded. A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw. “Of course,” he said. “I promise, I'll have a talk with him and get this sorted out.” He sighed, checking his watch. “I'm sorry, but I have to run. Hannah, is everything ready for the Johnson appointment?”
“Yes,” Hannah said in a chirpy voice. She looked at Thomas and I watched her eyes fill with passion. “But we'll have to leave now or else we'll be late.”
Thomas gave me yet another apologetic-yet-distant smile. “Thanks again, June,” he said. “I hope you'll be in touch.”
I nodded automatically. I couldn't help feeling stunn
ed. The meeting hadn't gone the way I'd expected at all, and suddenly I was wondering whether or not that was a good thing. Thomas obviously cares about Brett, but it seemed like he was so busy that he hardly even had time for his son.
Thomas stood up and reached for my hand. When I slipped my palm against his, I felt a spark leap from his body to mine. My stomach turned to a pile of warm mush inside my body and I shivered as Thomas gently squeezed my hand. No doubt about it, he was one of the most attractive men I'd ever seen in my life.
“Thanks for coming in,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Thomas smiled, showing a mouth full of straight white teeth. “Any time,” he said perfunctorily. “Come, Hannah.”
Hannah gave me a mocking smile before clicking out of the room on her five-inch heels. Thomas looked at me and for a moment, I could have sworn he was about to say something else. Then he sighed, turned on his heel, and followed Hannah out of the room.
Chapter Two
June
Thomas stayed in my head the whole day – the whole weekend, in fact. By the time I went home, I couldn't stop thinking about his handsome face. He was beautiful in a sensual way that I didn't often see in American men. He looked distinguished, educated – almost like some professor of French literature.
Angela was, of course, no help. She teased me endlessly as soon as she heard about “hot Mr. March” and I spent the whole weekend blushing at her jokes. Even when we went out to the movies, I couldn't stop thinking about him. It was totally inappropriate, and borderline creepy...especially considering the fact that he was likely sleeping with Hannah, who had seemed only a year or two older than myself.