Wilde for You

And no women.

He scrubbed his face, then shoved it under the spray to rinse. Steam rose around him, hot as his conviction.

He needed this job—assistant principal at Copper Corners High—if he was ever to get the one he’d lost.

Lost because of a moment of insanity with a woman who reminded him of someone he couldn’t forget. A moment witnessed by three members of the freshman girls’ volleyball team, who’d stumbled on him and Melissa in the equipment room…on the vault bench…working out…of their clothes.

Who knew the girls practiced so late?

So, if he got this job, no more women. He scrubbed between his toes, hot water peppering his back, the shower air lush and thick as a jungle.

“Tuuuuck-er, I’m lonely,” Julie, the woman he’d been seeing for the last month, called to him. He sighed, letting the water sluice down his body. Okay, maybe one more woman. Except she lived here—Phoenix—over two hours away from Copper Corners, which was barely a cactus clump off the highway south of Tucson. If he was truly dedicated, he’d have no time for road trips. Or Julie.

He’d stay nose to the grindstone. Just for the two or three years he had to wait for another chance at the position at Western Sun High, when the guy who’d gotten the job retired.

He needed that time to prove to Ben Alton, the principal and his friend, that he had what it took to be a good administrator. An administrator who knew how to keep his head on straight…and his zipper zipped.

The turndown still stung. Tucker hated to lose, but, worse, he’d let Ben down—disappointed the man who’d turned him around back when Tuck was in high school.

The whole reason Tucker had come back to Western Sun with his English degree from the University of Arizona was to work for Ben, who’d become the principal and been given the difficult task of guiding the school through the growing pains that came with a changing neighborhood. Once on the faculty, Tucker had started on his administrator credential, so he could work side by side with his mentor.

For the three years he’d been at Western Sun, he’d been busy—volunteering for curriculum committees, serving as English department chair and as a union rep—and he was liked by students and faculty alike.

But at the end of the interview for the vice principal job, Ben had told him no. Your heart’s in the right place, Tuck. Folks like you, but they don’t think you take the work seriously. You’re young.

He’d been stunned. He’d argued—pointed out all he’d accomplished and that age was irrelevant to talent—until the truth had dawned on him that it was the thing with Melissa.

That didn’t help, Ben had admitted. And I’d be playing favorites to hire you in spite of it.

Tuck had assured him it was a one-time occurrence, despite the gossip. I have not, quote, been with every female I could get into an empty closet. Melissa was special…and I was just…we were only…okay, it was a bad idea, but it was after hours and we had our clothes on.

Though belts and zippers had been in motion when the three volleyballers bounded into the room to gape and gasp at Tucker and Melissa putting the horse vault bench to uses for which it was never intended.

The one good thing was that Melissa had been more amused than embarrassed by the incident, for which he’d taken full responsibility.

Tuck understood Ben’s decision, disappointed though he was. The top job for an assistant principal was student discipline, so being respected was crucial. The make-out incident had made him the butt of too many jokes for much respect to remain.

Ben had put in a good word for him with Harvey Winfield, the principal at Copper Corners High—a friend of a friend from Ben’s Ph.D. program. A small school would be great experience, Ben claimed, since the principal and the assistant shared most duties, instead of having distinct tasks like at Western Sun, where Ben had two assistants, each with different responsibilities.

After Tuck had a few good years at Copper Corners, some accomplishments and professional maturity to tout, Ben would feel comfortable hiring him. And Tucker wanted that. Bad. Because of Ben, of course. And because he’d be damned if he’d be chased out by one mistake and the rumor mill. He’d be back. No question.

And the road back ran straight through Copper Corners, Arizona.

Tucker ran the scrubber over his back, then turned to take in a mouthful of water to gargle and spit.

The interview had gone well, and he’d liked Harvey, who reminded him of his own grandfather—quiet and old-fashioned. Gruff, but with a big heart.

He leaned forward, fingers flat on the black-and-white checkered tile, water falling over his head and neck, and remembered Ben’s final comment. If you get the job, behave yourself, he’d said, as if Tuck were an errant child. There are no secrets in a small town. You buy a pack of condoms and everyone will know whether they’re ribbed or smooth.

That wasn’t fair. The incident with Melissa had been unusual. She’d reminded him of a girl he’d had a major thing for in college—Cricket. Cricket what? He didn’t even know her last name. She’d been Sylvia’s roommate. One night senior year, right before Christmas break, while he’d waited for Sylvia to show up at her apartment, he and Cricket had shared a beer, an intense conversation and, once it became clear Sylvia had stood him up, the hottest make-out session he’d experienced. Ever, now that he thought about it.

Melissa had the same kind of fire and attitude as Cricket. She kind of smelled like her, too—sweet and spicy and all woman—and when she came on to him after a curriculum meeting, he’d lost his head. And, as a result, the job he was meant for.

He’d known better, too. He’d been wild in high school and from time to time fought the urge to just blow off responsibility, go with his impulses and play 24/7. Maybe that had shown in his work at Western Sun. He’d had fun with his students, but that didn’t mean he didn’t take teaching seriously. Worse, he had the uncomfortable sense that Ben was among those who thought he wasn’t serious enough to be a good administrator.

They had him wrong, dammit, Tuck thought, smearing green shampoo into his hair and scrubbing hard. And twenty-six was plenty old enough to know what mattered.

If he got the Copper Corners job, he’d watch his every step. The best way to handle temptation was to avoid it, and he was sure Copper Corners would offer few distractions. Rural towns had trouble attracting teachers anyway, and young, single people gravitated to cities for the social life.

He scrubbed his hair, wondering if Harvey Winfield had liked him as much as he’d seemed to. There were other candidates for the job, he knew, but they couldn’t possibly want it as much as Tuck did.

“Tucker!” Julie yelled from the bedroom.

He tipped his head back and shouted upward, “I’ll be right out.”

Seconds later, though, the shower door opened and a naked Julie held one hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. God, she was gorgeous. He’d pull her into the water for a wet adventure after this call….

“It’s the principal at that school,” she whispered, grinning. “I told him how excited you were about the job.”

He took the phone. “Harvey?” he said, hopping out of the stall to clutch a towel to his groin. The man couldn’t see through the phone, but Tuck felt damned unprofessional standing there naked. “Good to hear from—”

The shampoo-slick phone slipped out of his hand and hit the floor. Julie bent for it and thrust it at him in time for him to hear Harvey say, “…but after speaking to Julie just now, I’ve decided to go with my instincts.”

“What was that?” he said. “I dropped the phone.”

“What I said was that I called to ask a few follow-up questions in case my top candidates declined, but after speaking to Julie I changed my mind. Will you take the job, Tucker? I have a good feeling about you.”

“I’d be honored,” he said quickly.

Julie gave him a thumbs-up and did a silent happy dance, naked and gorgeous, then mouthed, “Breakfast,” and bounced out of the room.

He’d gotten the job. Thank God. Except he hadn’t been first choice. Not until Julie said something that changed Harvey’s mind. What the hell had she said?

“I’m glad to hear that, Tucker,” Harvey said. “I had two fellows with more experience in line—both with excellent references and both from small towns, which is a definite advantage. But knowing that you’re married—and to such a supportive woman—I felt comfortable going with my gut reaction…which was to hire you. You’re hungry. You’re smart. You’re serious.”

“Knowing that I’m…what?” At that moment, a blob of shampoo dropped into Tucker’s eye. Blinking against the sting, he braced the phone with his shoulder and wiped at the shampoo with his hand, but that made it burn worse.

“It’s not kosher to ask in the interview, of course,” Harvey was saying while Tucker lunged for the sink. The man thought Julie was his wife? How had that happened? Julie had answered the phone at seven-thirty in the morning, for one thing, and raved about him, so of course Harvey had assumed…

“Sure,” Tucker said, splashing water into his eye, “but I’m afraid Julie isn’t—” The phone slipped out of his fingers again. He grabbed it up, his eyes still burning, in time to hear Harvey say, “—just so very important, Tucker. My last assistant—a single guy—was more interested in the Tucson nightlife than in school business. So it just didn’t work out.”

“I can understand that,” he said, fumbling for a towel, one eye closed, “but, you see, I’m not really—”

Married. I’m not married. That was what he intended to say, except his heel skidded on wet tile and he hit the floor with a smack, the butt pain much worse than the eye burn.

“Tucker? You there?” Harvey said. “What were you saying?”

“I’m here. Just lost my balance.” And all sense of reality. “I was saying that I’m not really….”