Make-Believe Mistress

“I’ve always had it, and you’ve never noticed me before today.”

She had a point, but he wasn’t going to mention the story he’d read…“Adam’s Mistress.” He wanted her to reveal it to him. “It’s the way you defended the school and the students.”

She took his wrist in both of her hands and tried to move his hand from her face. He let her push him away, his fingers caressing her skin as he dropped his hand to his lap.

When he reached for her again, to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, she shifted in the seat and gave him a hard stare.

“I’m warning you.”

“Warning me?”

“Yes. This kind of behavior and comments like you just made—that’s what I was talking about. Do you think I’ve never glanced in a mirror and seen myself? I know exactly the type of woman you usually have on your arm.”

“I don’t have a type,” he said. He really didn’t. He liked all women no matter what their shape or style. He liked that their bodies were different than his. The feminine grace they used when they moved. The way they really got to the heart of the matter. Just as Grace was doing now, though it was making him uncomfortable. Hell, he thought, he even liked that with Grace. Liked the way she didn’t pretend that this was something casual.

“Yeah, right,” she said. “I think it’s time we returned to the school.”

He wondered if she’d sound so sure if she knew the thoughts that prim, school-headmistress tone gave him. He wanted to argue with her, get her to admit he didn’t have a type. But there would be time for that later. Tonight.

The problems she’d left behind when she’d gone to lunch with Adam waited for her when she returned. Sue-Ellen had set up an appointment for the next morning. She was gathering the PTA troops and would be bringing other parents who wanted to take an active part in reshaping the school.

Grace had the beginnings of a headache, no doubt brought on by the pressure of trying to convince the board not to close the school. But she thought the intensity that Adam had shown her was also a part of it. She’d wanted him for a long time and now it seemed he was finally noticing her as a woman.

Why?

She sighed and searched around for the budget file that Jose had made notes on.

“Bruce, have you seen my budget file?” she called out the door.

“I put it on the corner of your desk before we left for the meeting,” her assistant replied.

Grace went back to her desk and picked up a pile of folders, suddenly remembering that she’d put a story she’d meant to enter in a romance writing contest in a similar folder.

Oh, my God.

Frantic, she started searching through all the folders, not finding the budget report or her story “Adam’s Mistress.”

Oh, this was so not good. She had absolutely no excuse to have printed the document out here at work, but her printer at home was almost eight years old and it was difficult to find printer ink for it. Currently, she was out.

There was a knock on the door and she glanced up. Jose stood there with a folder in his hand. A folder that was identical to…well, every other folder in her office, since they purchased folders in bulk.

Calm down, Grace.

“Got a minute?”

“Sure,” she said, amazed that her voice sounded so calm and serene when inside she was ready to scream.

“I grabbed the budget report to double-check over lunch. I think we need to reevaluate the funds we have.”

She was partially relieved that Jose was holding the budget and not her story. “Please tell me we have more money than we thought.”

“I wish I could.”

She sank down in her chair and gestured for Jose to come farther into the room. “I think we’re going to need fifty thousand to make it until the end of the school year.”

“That’s a lot of car washes,” she said. The school had never held many fundraisers. They had a golf tournament every year in the fall to raise funds. But parents and alumni had already contributed to that.

“The kids are willing to participate to some extent, but the one thing we haven’t slipped on is our academic excellence.”

She understood what Jose was saying. If they asked the students to start participating in a variety of fundraising activities, it would distract them from their studies.

“I have a meeting tomorrow morning with Sue-Ellen. I think the parents will be a great resource for this. Jose, will you please call our alumni president and see if he’s available tomorrow at ten?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks,” she said. As Jose got up and left her office, she sank back into the chair. The next few months were going to be difficult. And she had to find that story she’d printed out.

She didn’t need the additional worry that a student would find it. Or worse, Sue-Ellen or Malcolm.

Oh, no. What if Adam had found it?

Was that why he’d taken her to lunch and said he’d help her with the school? Was he setting her up for a private meeting where he’d tell Malcolm about the story and fire her?

She had no time to dwell on that possibility as she spent the afternoon meeting with individual board members. Meetings that Adam had set up for her. The support she garnered was worth the time she spent with them.

The afternoon went by quickly. She had a small break and searched every inch of her office but couldn’t find her story. Jose e-mailed her his ideas for their fund shortage, and they were all really good.

“Grace, Dawn O’Shea called while you were in a meeting. She wants to talk to you about possibly getting her job back.” Bruce hovered in her doorway uncertainly.

“I can’t talk to her today,” Grace said. She felt sorry for Dawn, losing her job and her husband. But Dawn’s actions had greatly hurt the school, and saving Tremmel-Bowen was Grace’s priority.

“I told her you’d call next week.”

“Thanks.”

Bruce left at six. Grace researched fundraising ideas on the Internet and sent a few links to Jose and Sue-Ellen. She glanced up from her computer at seven-thirty when she heard voices in the outer office. Her head ached at the thought of how much work she still had to do.

The missing story scared her. It had the potential to put all the work she’d done today to save the school to waste. At least she hadn’t put her real name on it as the author. But the characters’ names—Adam and Grace—were pretty damning. She’d have to change those before she submitted it anywhere. If she submitted it.

She knew her assistant would rush back to help her if she called him. But she didn’t exactly want Bruce searching her office for that file folder.

“Grace? Got a minute?”

Adam stood in her doorway with Malcolm just behind him. The smile of welcome froze on her face as she noted the file folder held loosely in his hands.

The sinking feeling in her stomach grew as she waited for Malcolm or Adam to speak. She was a nervous wreck and she hated that. This was her domain. The one place in the world that she’d found where she really fit.

“Good evening, gentlemen.”