extraordinaire.
“Yes.”
“May I ask what kind of history?”
“Not a good one and nothing I care to talk about.”
“How would you have a history? You don’t run in the same crowds. Do you even know Brett?”
Did she know Brett Falcone? Know was such an innocuous word. It didn’t describe her relationship with Brett Falcone. Granted, once they’d gotten to high school, he’d left her alone. Middle school, though, had been hell on earth, courtesy of the Italian Stallion.
But Mr. Phillips didn’t know that and Kathryn had no desire to enlighten him.
“I’m afraid I have to decline,” she said. “I’m sure you can find another tutor for Brett.”
“Kathryn, there isn’t anyone else who can tutor him.”
“That’s ridiculous. How about Leon Bates? He’s as good in math as I am. Seth Connors might even be better. Or do you want a female tutor? How about Mary Beth Rogers? She’s pretty good. Or Amy Eckard.”
“All fine students,” Mr. Phillips said, “however none of them are acceptable.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” He sighed. “Brett refuses to work with anyone but you.”
She widened her eyes. “Me? That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. Brett hasn’t said a word to me in four years.”
“Believe me, I’m as flabbergasted as you are.” Mr. Phillips nodded. “But Coach Henderson said Brett would only agree to a tutor if it was you.”
Kathryn’s jaw dropped open. What in the world was Brett Falcone thinking?
“Well, it just so happens that I don’t give a hoot whether Brett Falcone gets to play baseball in college, so the answer is no.”
“Kathryn.” Mr. Phillips rose and came around to face her. “There’s more at stake than that.”
“Oh?”
“His family has suffered a setback. His father was injured on the job a few weeks ago.”
“I’m very sorry, but—”
“A scholarship would be a great help to Brett and his family. Otherwise, if Brett doesn’t go to school, he’ll probably have to get a job and help support his family.”
“Maybe that’s his lot in life.”
“Maybe so. But he can have so much more. Brett Falcone is not stupid. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he scored in the ‘superior’ range in the state-administered tests. The boy just needs some guidance, some hope for a future. You can help him.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you’ll have to live with that.”
“Mr. Phillips, I’m quite capable of living with that.” Kathryn stood and turned to walk out the door, but Mr. Phillips’s voice stopped her cold.
“Kathryn. Please.”
Chapter Two
His strong legs looked exactly the same.
Kathryn’s pulse raced, but she steadied herself as she led Maya toward the Pee Wee soccer field. Brett stood with his back to them, talking to another parent. He was wearing sports shorts and a T-shirt, coach fare. His jet-black hair still fell to his collar in unruly waves.
Her stomach knotted. How was she going to get through this?
She looked down at her adorable daughter, so cute in her shin guards and cleats.
Maya. That’s how she would get through this. For Maya.
Once she was within speaking distance, she cleared her throat. “Mr. Falcone?”
He turned, and Kathryn melted into a puddle. Age had been kind to the Italian Stallion. Tiny streaks of silver threaded through the silky hair at his temples. Dark stubble graced his jaw line. His dark brown eyes still appeared black, and the lashes were still long and thick. Those lips—once firm and supple upon her own—were still red, full, and gorgeous.
And his athlete’s body? Oh yeah, there it was. She remembered as though it were yesterday instead of twenty years ago. That flat belly, those strong virile arms, the corded neck, the hard muscled chest.
He looked at her, cocked his head, as though he were trying to place her.
She held out her hand, willing it not to tremble. “I’m Kathryn Abbott, and this is Maya.”
His gaze pierced hers and she knew the second
“Yes.”
“May I ask what kind of history?”
“Not a good one and nothing I care to talk about.”
“How would you have a history? You don’t run in the same crowds. Do you even know Brett?”
Did she know Brett Falcone? Know was such an innocuous word. It didn’t describe her relationship with Brett Falcone. Granted, once they’d gotten to high school, he’d left her alone. Middle school, though, had been hell on earth, courtesy of the Italian Stallion.
But Mr. Phillips didn’t know that and Kathryn had no desire to enlighten him.
“I’m afraid I have to decline,” she said. “I’m sure you can find another tutor for Brett.”
“Kathryn, there isn’t anyone else who can tutor him.”
“That’s ridiculous. How about Leon Bates? He’s as good in math as I am. Seth Connors might even be better. Or do you want a female tutor? How about Mary Beth Rogers? She’s pretty good. Or Amy Eckard.”
“All fine students,” Mr. Phillips said, “however none of them are acceptable.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” He sighed. “Brett refuses to work with anyone but you.”
She widened her eyes. “Me? That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. Brett hasn’t said a word to me in four years.”
“Believe me, I’m as flabbergasted as you are.” Mr. Phillips nodded. “But Coach Henderson said Brett would only agree to a tutor if it was you.”
Kathryn’s jaw dropped open. What in the world was Brett Falcone thinking?
“Well, it just so happens that I don’t give a hoot whether Brett Falcone gets to play baseball in college, so the answer is no.”
“Kathryn.” Mr. Phillips rose and came around to face her. “There’s more at stake than that.”
“Oh?”
“His family has suffered a setback. His father was injured on the job a few weeks ago.”
“I’m very sorry, but—”
“A scholarship would be a great help to Brett and his family. Otherwise, if Brett doesn’t go to school, he’ll probably have to get a job and help support his family.”
“Maybe that’s his lot in life.”
“Maybe so. But he can have so much more. Brett Falcone is not stupid. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he scored in the ‘superior’ range in the state-administered tests. The boy just needs some guidance, some hope for a future. You can help him.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you’ll have to live with that.”
“Mr. Phillips, I’m quite capable of living with that.” Kathryn stood and turned to walk out the door, but Mr. Phillips’s voice stopped her cold.
“Kathryn. Please.”
Chapter Two
His strong legs looked exactly the same.
Kathryn’s pulse raced, but she steadied herself as she led Maya toward the Pee Wee soccer field. Brett stood with his back to them, talking to another parent. He was wearing sports shorts and a T-shirt, coach fare. His jet-black hair still fell to his collar in unruly waves.
Her stomach knotted. How was she going to get through this?
She looked down at her adorable daughter, so cute in her shin guards and cleats.
Maya. That’s how she would get through this. For Maya.
Once she was within speaking distance, she cleared her throat. “Mr. Falcone?”
He turned, and Kathryn melted into a puddle. Age had been kind to the Italian Stallion. Tiny streaks of silver threaded through the silky hair at his temples. Dark stubble graced his jaw line. His dark brown eyes still appeared black, and the lashes were still long and thick. Those lips—once firm and supple upon her own—were still red, full, and gorgeous.
And his athlete’s body? Oh yeah, there it was. She remembered as though it were yesterday instead of twenty years ago. That flat belly, those strong virile arms, the corded neck, the hard muscled chest.
He looked at her, cocked his head, as though he were trying to place her.
She held out her hand, willing it not to tremble. “I’m Kathryn Abbott, and this is Maya.”
His gaze pierced hers and she knew the second
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