qualified under the dress code someone grandfathered in from 1910.
She opened the drawers of the desk that sat in the center of the front of the classroom and frowned when she found the drawers full with the last teacher’s leavings. Ink pens, rubber bands, paper clips, bookmarks, two buckeyes, and more rubbish filled each drawer except the last of the three on the right, which stuck. It would not budge and already exasperated that she would have to clean out every drawer, she sighed and said aloud.
“This is going to be a mess!”
“Do you think so?”
Stella leaped backward three steps and almost crashed into the podium. The unexpected voice was definitely masculine, a low voice with the hint of a growl deep within the tone. She clasped her chest with one hand when she saw him standing in the doorway, a tall man with long brown hair caught back in a neat ponytail and a Van Dyke beard/goatee.
“Did I scare you?” he said, in a voice rich and thick as dark chocolate. “I apologize. I thought you might have heard me coming.
I am Darien Wolfe, the mathematics teacher. My classroom is next door to yours.”
She extended her hand.
“Hi, you did startle me a little. I’m Stella Raines, the new European history teacher.”
Instead of shaking her hand, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it, his mouth warm against her skin, his moustache tickling her hand.
“I’m charmed,” Darien Wolfe intoned, and she thought she caught a faint upper crust British note in his voice as well. “Stella is a lovely name, from the Latin word for star. Are your parents star-gazers?”
“Yes, my parents adore the night sky,” Stella said. “I’m very pleased to meet you.” His manners were perfect and she must sound like she was born in a barn. She wondered, however, why his appearance seemed outside the strict dress code for faculty. As if he read her mind, he answered the unspoken question.
“If you’re wondering, I am exempt from Sanderson’s dress code,” Darien said, with a smirking grin.
“Why?” If he could be exempt, then maybe she could work in those painted toenails. Stella was just curious, too.
He laughed, his chuckle deep and sonorous like a dog’s bark.
“I am a graduate of Cambridge University and earned my doctorate at Harvard. I am an academic prize, a jewel in the mathematics department crown so they look the other way to keep me in the school district. I insisted on it as a condition of employment.”
She could not compete with that, not with her adequate state university teaching degree. If he graduated from Cambridge, it explained the faint British accent in his voice.
“I see,” Stella said. “Are you English, then?”
His unusual eyes met hers, sparkling with amusement. She couldn’t decide just what to call the color. They were brown but they had a yellow cast to them as well, strange but attractive. She decided that maybe topaz would best describe the shade.
“I was, once,” Darien replied. “But it was a long time ago and I have spent far more time in the United States than in Europe. I am more Yank now than anything else. Where do you come from, Miss Raines?”
His formal manners impressed and irritated at the same time.
Stella noted his skill at answering questions without revealing much information. He was English but he wasn’t.
“I’m from Overland Park, in the Kansas City metro region.”
“Ah, yes.”
“Do you know KC?” His self-assurance came across as cocky, so when she guessed he wasn’t that much older than she was, five years at most, which would put him a few notches below his thirtieth birthday.
“I’ve been there a few times.”
She noticed that he avoided answering, again, as he continued,
“Would you like to accompany me for a cup of tea? Or coffee, if you prefer?”
He intrigued her, she admitted, and he was gorgeous. If he also happened to be infuriating with his half-answers and his smug manner, it wasn’t enough to cancel out his appeal.
She opened the drawers of the desk that sat in the center of the front of the classroom and frowned when she found the drawers full with the last teacher’s leavings. Ink pens, rubber bands, paper clips, bookmarks, two buckeyes, and more rubbish filled each drawer except the last of the three on the right, which stuck. It would not budge and already exasperated that she would have to clean out every drawer, she sighed and said aloud.
“This is going to be a mess!”
“Do you think so?”
Stella leaped backward three steps and almost crashed into the podium. The unexpected voice was definitely masculine, a low voice with the hint of a growl deep within the tone. She clasped her chest with one hand when she saw him standing in the doorway, a tall man with long brown hair caught back in a neat ponytail and a Van Dyke beard/goatee.
“Did I scare you?” he said, in a voice rich and thick as dark chocolate. “I apologize. I thought you might have heard me coming.
I am Darien Wolfe, the mathematics teacher. My classroom is next door to yours.”
She extended her hand.
“Hi, you did startle me a little. I’m Stella Raines, the new European history teacher.”
Instead of shaking her hand, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it, his mouth warm against her skin, his moustache tickling her hand.
“I’m charmed,” Darien Wolfe intoned, and she thought she caught a faint upper crust British note in his voice as well. “Stella is a lovely name, from the Latin word for star. Are your parents star-gazers?”
“Yes, my parents adore the night sky,” Stella said. “I’m very pleased to meet you.” His manners were perfect and she must sound like she was born in a barn. She wondered, however, why his appearance seemed outside the strict dress code for faculty. As if he read her mind, he answered the unspoken question.
“If you’re wondering, I am exempt from Sanderson’s dress code,” Darien said, with a smirking grin.
“Why?” If he could be exempt, then maybe she could work in those painted toenails. Stella was just curious, too.
He laughed, his chuckle deep and sonorous like a dog’s bark.
“I am a graduate of Cambridge University and earned my doctorate at Harvard. I am an academic prize, a jewel in the mathematics department crown so they look the other way to keep me in the school district. I insisted on it as a condition of employment.”
She could not compete with that, not with her adequate state university teaching degree. If he graduated from Cambridge, it explained the faint British accent in his voice.
“I see,” Stella said. “Are you English, then?”
His unusual eyes met hers, sparkling with amusement. She couldn’t decide just what to call the color. They were brown but they had a yellow cast to them as well, strange but attractive. She decided that maybe topaz would best describe the shade.
“I was, once,” Darien replied. “But it was a long time ago and I have spent far more time in the United States than in Europe. I am more Yank now than anything else. Where do you come from, Miss Raines?”
His formal manners impressed and irritated at the same time.
Stella noted his skill at answering questions without revealing much information. He was English but he wasn’t.
“I’m from Overland Park, in the Kansas City metro region.”
“Ah, yes.”
“Do you know KC?” His self-assurance came across as cocky, so when she guessed he wasn’t that much older than she was, five years at most, which would put him a few notches below his thirtieth birthday.
“I’ve been there a few times.”
She noticed that he avoided answering, again, as he continued,
“Would you like to accompany me for a cup of tea? Or coffee, if you prefer?”
He intrigued her, she admitted, and he was gorgeous. If he also happened to be infuriating with his half-answers and his smug manner, it wasn’t enough to cancel out his appeal.
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