His Most Scandalous Secret

“I’ll save us both some time, then, Miss Rose. If you want the job, you’ve got it.”

“I want the job.”

“Come up and we’ll talk details.”

She swung her bag over her shoulder and bounded up the stairs to the Center, enthusiasm in every step. How long until that spirit fizzled and burned out? He’d seen it dozens of times. He hated that it would happen to someone as fresh and full of passion as Miss Tessa Rose.

She stepped into his office, that megawatt smile in place.

“Hi. Who just flew by me faster than a speeding bullet?” she asked, looking down the hall for a second.

“That was Luis, who happened to witness your performance. Your reputation will be firmly established within fifteen minutes, Miss Rose.” Even her name was soft. He indicated a chair to her, then moved behind his desk and took a seat. “Nice job handling yourself out there.”

“Thanks.”

“I take it you saw him coming.”

“The minute I stepped off the bus. I also knew I couldn’t avoid him. He was too close.” She leaned forward. “Do I really have the job?”

“Our meeting was just a formality. The day care director, Chandra, wants you, and your references are glowing, as I’m sure you’re aware.” He tipped his chair back. “It’s my policy to run down the rules with everyone, whether staff, parent or child.”

“Because everyone is more comfortable when they know what’s expected of them, and what the consequences are when they fail to meet expectation.”

“Exactly.” Baby blue eyes, he noted, with laugh lines fanning from the corners. He knew she was twenty-nine, so the creases hadn’t come only from age. “Why do you want to work here, Miss Rose?”

She crossed her legs and relaxed into the chair. “Why wouldn’t I want to work here, Mr. Ryan?”

“This isn’t the safest neighborhood in the city.”

“It’s my understanding that you run an orderly facility. Within the walls, I expect I’ll be very safe. As for coming and going, you already saw how little problem that poses.”

“Your last job was at the day care center for the Schuman Corporation.” He knew the details of her résumé without looking. “Advantaged kids who probably were fed breakfast and clothed in the latest fashions before being dropped off. Parents who probably worked eight to five, and maybe even visited the child during their lunch hour.”

“Your point, Mr. Ryan?”

He watched her foot bounce impatiently, sending the fabric of her skirt rippling. A fresh, flowery scent made its way across the desk. Roses? She should be tending a garden herself in some picket-fenced little house somewhere, not fending off small-time teenage hoodlums. He gave her one last chance. “You’ll see things here you’ll wish you hadn’t, want to make changes in the children’s lives that can’t be made. You may be trained to defend your body from harm, but what about your heart?”

“Are you trying to scare me off?” For the first time a completely serious expression settled on her face. “I grew up not far from here, Mr. Ryan. Although the neighborhood has changed some, I doubt much will surprise me. I’ve read your mission statement and the rules that you make the kids sign and the forms the parents complete, agreeing not only to cooperate but to participate. I spent an afternoon working beside Chandra, and I was here when the children were picked up. I know who they are and what kind of life they lead. I’m not as naive as you seem to think. However, I don’t see anything wrong with wanting to do what I can to make things better for the children in this neighborhood. I believe that is your purpose, as well.”

“How long a commitment are you willing to make?”

“I know these kids need stable adult role models. I’ll be here.”

Ten seconds of silence followed her response. Their gazes had locked the moment she’d entered his office and hadn’t disconnected once. He finally looked away, but only long enough to pull some papers out of a file drawer and pass them to her. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thanks.” She plucked a pen and clipboard from her Mary Poppins bag and began to complete the legal documents.

“What’d you say to the boy when you had him spread-eagled on the car?”

“I offered to rearrange some of his anatomy, free of charge—in language he could understand, of course.” She flashed a smile. “He seemed to take me seriously. So, who is this Wilson Buckley the Center is named for?”

“You’ll meet him. Everyone calls him Sarge.” He watched her fill in the blanks on the W-4 form. “He retired from the police force nineteen years ago.”

“Which explains why his name doesn’t ring any bells. I didn’t have any brushes with the law until I was, oh, seventeen or so.”

“Speeding ticket?”

She tossed him a mischievous glance. “A sit-in at my high school, protesting the cafeteria food. A bunch of us got hauled in. My parents were not amused.”

“I don’t imagine they were. Did the situation change at the school after that?”

“Sure. After I graduated.”

“So, you made a difference for those who followed. Was that enough for you?”

“Well...no.”

Ambitious, determined and just self-centered enough. Good qualities for working at the Center, Chase thought.

“After that experience, I decided maybe I should become a cop,” she said. “I liked the way they handled the whole situation.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I kind of have a problem with guns. They pretty much scare me to death.” She held up a hand. “I know. I see the question in your eyes.” She leaned forward, intent on making her point. “I really thought I could do the job without having to use a weapon other than my mind. Sadly, I didn’t pass the psychological exam. Too high on idealism.”

He could have predicted that about her himself. “I’m sorry your career plans were shattered, Miss Rose.”

“I’m over it.” She cocked her head. “Do we call each other Mister and Miss forever?”

“Not when we’re alone...Tessa. The kids are required to, however.”

“Good.”

A long, lustrous curl drifted over her shoulder as she wrote, settling on her breast, quivering as she penned her answer to the who-do-we-call-in-an-emergency question. He clenched his teeth. Hiring Miss Tessa Rose was probably going to be the second biggest mistake in his thirty-two years of life. His gaze returned to that lucky curl. He wanted to wrap it around his finger, let his hand rest against the beautiful curve of flesh below it and slowly trace the tempting shape.

He pushed himself out of his chair. “I’ll be back.”

Tessa watched him stride from the room, stirring the air, disturbing her papers. She tapped her pen against her lips as she stared blindly at the form. In her search for information about the Center, she’d learned that Chase Ryan had a reputation for uncompromising expectation, but she hadn’t realized that uncompromising meant hard. Most people smiled in return for one offered. Not him. Not even the tiniest curve of his lips to be social, to be civilized.

And yet she didn’t feel any threat behind the edges and angles that defined him—the square, determined jaw; the strong, powerful body; the smoky gray eyes, fierce with never-give-in resolution. Only his hair hinted at anything remotely soft about him. although the dark hue seemed to match his personality. But the length surprised her, the ends caressing his shirt collar as they did.

Word on the street was that he lived by strict, self-imposed laws, and she could see for herself that he wouldn’t be easily reformed.

Her pen clattered as it hit the floor. Why had the thought even entered her head? Yes, she’d wanted to meet him, to understand him, but why in the world would she want to change him? Certainly she wanted to see a smile relax his face; however, she didn’t believe in forcing people to change. She’d learned from experience that it never worked.

“Something wrong?”

He had come up quietly behind her, or she’d been so lost in her thoughts, she just hadn’t heard him return. His eyes held a touch of concern.