The Runaway McBride by Elizabeth Thornton

Fine. He would give her something to remember him by, something to drive her crazy whenever she remembered how close they’d come to making love in her classroom cupboard.
    The slow slide of his fingers was making her frantic. She couldn’t think; she didn’t want to think or debate the rights and wrongs of what she was doing. Her whole world was centered on the incredible tormenting sensations between her thighs.
    She opened her eyes wide when tiny, rippling shudders started deep inside her, then she clutched at his shoulders as she convulsed in wave after wave of mindless sensation. She would have screamed at the wonder of it, but she couldn’t find her breath. When the tremors died away, she sank against his chest and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder.
    The world came back to her slowly: the scent of their lovemaking, the heat in that closed space, the hard-muscled body that cradled her so carefully. She raised her head to get a better look at him—and that insufferably complacent smile on his face.
    This wasn’t the man she remembered. This man was too knowing, too skilled, and too damn carnal to be the knightly lover she had once known. In eight years, her experience amounted to zero. She’d bet her last farthing that he couldn’t say the same. Then what was she doing, sprawled across him like a wanton out of a bawdy house?
    Since she couldn’t scream her frustration at him, she took refuge in the logistics of their situation. “We have to get out of here,” she said, “before—”
    The unmistakable sound of voices carried to them from the corridor. “Do something!” she cried. “It’s Robert.”
    Whether it was the pain from her fingers biting into his shoulders or the stark horror in her voice that made James suddenly rear up was immaterial. The result was that Faith was thrown back, knocked her head on the edge of a shelf, and cried out in fright.
    James got to his feet. “Get us out of here!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs.
    They heard the tread of footsteps crossing to the cupboard. When the door was flung open, James was on his feet and filled the entrance, blocking Faith from view. Staring up at him with shocked expressions were Faith’s friend and Robert Danvers.
    “What took you so long?” demanded James, feigning annoyance. He hoped that Faith had the presence of mind to straighten her clothes. “Didn’t you hear me shouting?”
    Robert eyed James with patent suspicion. Lily was bobbing this way and that, trying to see past James. “Was that Faith’s voice I heard? Is she in there with you?”
    Robert said, “What’s going on here?”
    James turned his back on Robert. “I’ll tell you what’s going on.” He took a moment to help Faith to rise. She looked disoriented and close to tears. “One of those abominable girls shut the door on us when I was helping Miss McBride stack the books.”
    Breathless and slightly disheveled, Faith stepped out of the closet and put a hand to the back of her head. “I banged my head,” she said plaintively, “and Mr. Burnett tried to help me.” When she took her hand away, there was blood on her fingers. She moaned but was careful not to overdo it. What she wanted was to convince her friends that nothing untoward had occurred when she was locked in the cupboard with James.
    Her ploy worked. The stiffness in Robert’s spine softened, and he adopted a commiserating look. “One way or another,” he said, “I’ll find out who played that filthy trick on you.”
    “Please don’t bother,” Faith replied. “Whoever it was, I’m sure she meant it as a joke.”
    Lily’s expression was more knowing than sympathetic. She shot a look at James then studied her friend. “Well,” she said, “no harm done. Let’s get you to your room, and I’ll take a look at that cut.”
    Flanked by Robert and Lily, Faith hobbled to the door. James crossed his arms over his chest and watched them with mounting irritation. He might as well have