The Rancher Needs A Wife

His hand shifted to her waist, pulling her close as Trace and Janie swung into their path. Her chest brushed his shirt front, and her breath backed up in her lungs.

This was crazy. This spine-tingling reaction to a dance with an old school friend was pure foolishness. It was all these strange sensations—they were too much for her to process at once. It was the second glass of wine that was making her a little light-headed, and the thud of the bass from the jukebox that was making her pulse throb. And it might be the fact that she was out of practice with this kind of contact with an adult male. Other than a few brotherly hugs from Will and Fitz, she hadn’t been this close to a man in nearly a year.

He raised his hand again to the spot above her waist, and she was aware of the press of each of his fingers. She tipped her face back to find those deep, dark eyes of his trained on hers. They drifted slowly down to her mouth, and she realized that she’d let him kiss her, that she wanted him to kiss her. It was the light-headed, out-of-practice part of her that willed him to do it, begged him to do it.

With a final twang the music ended, and they parted from each other by slow and reluctant degrees—the subtle retreat of a shoulder, the slight shift of a leg, the long slide of his palm down her back, the soft tug of her fingers from his hand.

“Thank you, Maggie.”

She wanted to speak, to snap off the odd thing sprouting between them with a flip remark, but all she could manage was a nod.

He settled his hand again at her waist and guided her back to the booth where Janie was collecting her jacket and purse.

“I’m heading out,” said Janie with a quick, one-armed hug. “Got to hurry and get the sitter home before time runs out on the hot offer I got out on the dance floor.”

Maggie squeezed her back and promised to call soon to make a date for another girls’ night out.

When she turned, intending to invite Wayne to join her for another drink, she discovered he’d disappeared without a word.

Since it was Wayne, she should have expected it.

What surprised her was the quick, hot slap of disappointment.

CHAPTER FIVE

THEA GASTINEAU, the icy-gray and ramrod-stiff principal of Tucker High School, straightened her glasses on her thin nose and studied Maggie across the faculty room table during Monday’s lunch break. Maggie met her gaze with her most confident smile.

Thea tapped a clawlike finger on the proposal Maggie had slipped into her office mailbox that morning. “You’re sure you want to do this.”

“Absolutely sure.”

“A theatrical production of the sort you have in mind is going to take a lot of work. Especially on the tight schedule you’ve planned.”

“I have plenty of experience with extracurricular projects. I know what I’m getting into. And there are several reasons for choosing an early performance date.”

“Yes,” said Thea. “I can see that it would be good to have a project like this in motion before the next board meeting.”

Maggie’s smile widened. “That’s one of the reasons.”

“It’s going to be expensive.”

Maggie pulled one of her mother’s molasses cookies from a brown lunch sack. “I’ve developed quite a talent for soliciting community business donations.”

“This isn’t Chicago.” Thea set aside the proposal and picked up her plastic fork. “Folks here don’t have as much money to spare.”

“And because this isn’t Chicago, they’re going to be more generous with what they’ve got.”

The principal poked at a piece of limp salad lettuce in a small plastic container. “Tucker hasn’t been your community for a number of years.”

Thea’s matter-of-fact tone soothed the sting of her words. And Maggie was finished with feeling defensive about her long absence from her hometown. “This project will provide me with an excellent opportunity to get involved again.”

Thea glanced up. “You sound very certain of yourself.”

“I was hoping I sounded convincing.”

“That, too.” Thea pressed her thin, colorless lips together in a slight frown. “What is it you hope to gain from your time here at Tucker High, Maggie?”

“Besides a few paychecks?” Maggie broke off a bite-size piece of the cookie. “Precisely that—time. Time to decide what to do next. Where to go.”

“There’s no secret agenda here? No ulterior motives?”

“I’m planning a theater revue, Thea,” Maggie said with a reassuring smile, “not a coup.”

“It might be seen as one and the same.”

“And by some of the same members of the community I’m hoping to tap for donations and assistance.” Maggie washed the cookie down with a sip of milk. “It’s going to be quite a challenge. One I’m looking forward to.”

“At least you’re aware of the complications.” Thea finished her salad and reached for the container’s lid. “I see you’ve thought things through.”

“I always think things through. I like to know what I’m getting into before I take the first step.” Maggie brushed a few stray cookie crumbs from her slim black wool skirt. “Things may not always work out quite the way I’d planned, but at least I’m prepared to deal with any problems that might arise.”

“I appreciate the fact that you’ve already outlined several you may encounter.” Thea glanced again at Maggie’s preliminary paperwork. “And I don’t think those problems would have any negative impacts.”

“So…do I have your permission to proceed with my plans?”

“Yes, you have my permission.” Thea swept the papers into the folder Maggie had provided and set it aside. “But give me until the end of the week to get back to you on the budget items.”

“All right. And thank you.”

Maggie helped herself to another cookie and offered the last one to the principal. “What I’d really like, Thea, in addition to your permission, is your blessing.”

Thea lifted one thin, grey brow above the rim of her glasses as she accepted the cookie. “Wouldn’t they be one and the same?”

“Not necessarily.”

There was a long pause as Thea studied her again. Maggie tried not to squirm beneath that cool, assessing gaze.

“No, they wouldn’t be the same thing,” Thea said.

Maggie folded her hands on the table and leaned forward. “I’d like to secure as much faculty support as possible, or at least build a consensus before I start this project. I’ll begin meeting one-on-one with the other staff members this afternoon.”

“Ah, yes. The all-important communal consensus.” Thea smiled her wintry smile. “You may go through the motions of doing things the way we do them here—the way you must have learned things are done when you lived here before—but you still manage to put your own spin on them.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No.” Thea slowly shook her head. “Just different.”

“It might even be a good thing.”