Thief of Hearts Read Online Free Page B

return.”
    I expected him to react one of three ways: embarrassed, apologetic, or hostile. Surprisingly, it was none of those. What he did do was lean closer, granting me a waft of his masculine, woodsy cologne. His gaze never left mine as he replied simply, “And here’s a life lesson for you, Miss Anderson. I’m not pretending.”
    He startled me when he reached forward, took a strand of hair that had fallen free of my ponytail and gently tucked it behind my ear. I inhaled sharply when his fingers brushed my earlobe and felt momentarily speechless. He withdrew and cast me a final heated look, then left the classroom.
    Em, what the hell was that?
    I remained in place, my heart hammering in my chest as I fought to calm my breathing. I was having all sorts of strange feelings and the reaction alarmed me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so flustered and lost for words. In fact, I barely recognised myself. I didn’t act like this, all girlish and fluttery. At least, I hadn’t for a very long time.
    One thing was for sure: Stu Cross wasn’t as predictable as I thought, and even though I was the teacher in this situation, somehow it felt like I’d just been schooled.

Three
     
    After lunch I felt awkward. It was difficult to concentrate on teaching with Stu right in front of me, the memory of his touch replaying over and over in my head. Why was I even thinking about that? I was being ridiculous.
    Unfortunately, the fact still remained that was I going to have to talk to him again. This time I wouldn’t let him get the last word, and I wouldn’t let his not-pretend flirting affect me either. At least, I hoped I wouldn’t.
    At three o’clock when the class let out for the day, I asked Stu to stay back again. He almost looked like he expected it, but more than that, he looked like he’d won something. I took my time packing away my things while Stu waited quietly. When everybody had left, he asked, “Can I help?”
    I paused and glanced at the folders I was shoving into my handbag. “Uh, no, I’m almost done.”
    Stu sat on the edge of his desk, his arms folded and an expectant look on his face. Remembering the error of my ways at lunch, I stood and went to lock up the cabinets behind my desk.
    “I like your top,” said Stu, his eyes blatantly perusing my chest as I walked back and braced my hands on the top of my chair. I had to glance down because I’d forgotten what top I was wearing. Whether this was due to being flustered or the fact that I never really paid much attention to such things, I couldn’t say. It was a simple navy blouse, nothing special. He was obviously still on his pretend flirting kick.
    “Thank you,” I replied.
    “The colour suits you,” he went on.
    “Again, thank you, but can we talk about what happened earlier? I’d like to clear the air.”
    “Are you married?” Stu asked, completely blindsiding me.
    I frowned. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
    “You’re wearing a wedding ring, but everyone calls you Miss Anderson, not Mrs,” he went on and I stiffened. For whatever reason, no one at the college had ever called me on the fact that I still wore my ring. Perhaps it was because they already knew my story. It was no secret I was the widowed teacher whose husband died tragically young. I’d learn to ignore the occasional pitying looks.
    “I was married. He’s passed. And going by Miss is a personal choice. After a while you get a little tired of people asking about your husband and having to explain you’re a widow,” I said and let out a humourless laugh. “Like right now, actually.”
    God, what was I doing? I shouldn’t even be entertaining this conversation. My personal circumstances were none of his business.
    Stu shot me a commiserating look and ran a hand through his hair. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
    “It was a long time ago,” I said, not bothering to correct him on his language this time. I was beginning to