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Her Kind of Man
Pamela Yaye
Makayla Stevens has blossomed since high school, but one thing hasn't changed: Kenyon Blake still turns her knees to jelly. Back then, she had thick glasses and braces, and he was a gorgeous football star.Now he's the uncle of one of her students, and he's made it plain he'd like to get to know her outside the classroom. The reality is even hotter than her teenage fantasies, but getting involved with a student's relative could mess with her career, and her peace of mind.Kenyon's not giving up, not before teaching Makayla a few things–about long, slow kisses, sizzling passion and listening to your heart….



Makayla knew she was staring,
but so was he!
Kenyon Blake was standing in front of her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The years had been kind to him. He had transformed from an adorable teen into one fine-looking man. Kenyon was extra tall. Extra dark. And extra handsome. The width of his shoulders suggested he was a man of great strength. His straight nose, sensuously wide mouth and smoldering brown eyes fueled his bad-boy look. His skin was a dark shade of brown, clear and nice. A single diamond stud clung to his right ear, and the chain around his neck held a cross at the end.
“You must be Ms. Stevens,” Kenyon said. “Sorry I’m late, but Terrance’s hockey practice ran long. I’m his—”
“Oh, of course,” she replied. “You’re here for the interview.”

PAMELA YAYE
has a bachelor’s degree in Christian education and has been writing short stories since elementary school. Her love for African-American fiction and literature prompted her to pursue a career in writing romance. When she’s not reading or working on her latest novel, she’s watching basketball (go Pistons!), cooking or planning her next vacation. Pamela lives in Calgary, Canada, with her husband and daughter. She loves to hear from readers, so visit her at www.Pamelayaye.com.

Her kind of Man
Pamela Yaye


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader,
My dad is a news junkie. So is my husband. I try to keep informed of what’s going on in the world, but these days the stories of pain and suffering are just overwhelming. One day last year, my dad called me and I could hear the news blaring in the background (what else is new?). When I asked what he was watching, he told me the story of a seven-year-old girl who was handcuffed and escorted out of her elementary school by police. I was dumbfounded! Once I found my voice, I said, “Could you imagine how much pain that child is in to physically attack someone who only wants what’s best for her?” Out of this tragic, real-life story came the idea of a stern but loving teacher, a cute, rebellious student and one hot, sexy uncle!
I wrote Her Kind of Man while I was six months pregnant. When my son passed away four days after birth, I was reminded of a Bible verse about destiny. No man is promised tomorrow, so while we’re here, we have to make the most of our days. I hope Makayla and Kenyon’s story will inspire you to follow your dreams. It doesn’t matter how difficult it may seem; with love and faith, anything is possible!
Be blessed and walk in your destiny!
Pamela Yaye
This book is dedicated in loving memory to my son,
JUSTICE MOUKALLA YAYE, born on August 14, 2007.
Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you, miss you and
wish that you were here. Your time on earth was brief, just
long enough to say hello, but you made a valuable impression
on us all and your footprint is still on our hearts. Mommy
misses you, Justice. I love you, little one. We all do.

Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26

Chapter 1
“You’re incompetent!”
“Excuse me?” Makayla Stevens gripped the phone so hard, a sharp pain whizzed up her arm. “I’ve done nothing but help Terrance.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you’re the problem?”
“No, because Terrance is having issues in his other classes, as well. He—”
“Sure, and I’m supposed to believe you.”
“Mrs. Blake, each incident has been clearly documented and—”
Click.
“Hello? Hello?” The dial tone buzzed in her ear. Makayla stared down at the receiver, eyes wide, mouth agape. It wasn’t the first time she’d argued with a parent about their child’s behavior, but she had never been spoken to in such a scathing manner.
Throughout their conversation, Makayla had heard gleeful revving noises in the background and knew that Terrance was playing nearby. But that didn’t stop Mrs. Blake from punctuating her sentences with lively curse words. It was no wonder the five-year-old was a holy terror.
In the ten years Makayla had been teaching, she had never met a child she didn’t like—until now. Only a month into the school year and Terrance Blake had been sent to the principal’s office five times. Mr. Gibson gave his support, but Makayla had a feeling he blamed her for Terrance’s intolerable behavior. In the last month she’d used all of her “tricks” but there was no change in Terrance. Extra computer time, positive reinforcement and glow-in-the-dark stickers didn’t help, either. Terrance was as bad as ever. He swiped things off her desk when he thought no one was looking, bullied his peers and lied openly.
Makayla picked up Terrance’s file. It was heavier than the Bible. She had to do something fast. Mrs. Blake had threatened to file a grievance against her with the Philadelphia school board. Still, her co-workers had assured her she had nothing to worry about. One complaint from an angry parent wasn’t going to ruin her otherwise stellar performance record.
Unruffled by Mrs. Blake’s threats, she picked up the phone and hit redial. On the third ring, the answering machine came on. How can Mrs. Blake be unavailable when she just hung up on me?
When the automated voice prompted her to leave her name and number, Makayla said, “Hello, Mrs. Blake. It’s Ms. Stevens again. Somehow our call got disconnected. I am calling to remind you that parent-teacher interviews are tomorrow night. Your appointment is at 7:15 p.m. I look forward to seeing you then. Goodbye.”
After carefully replacing the receiver, she crossed off the last name on her class list. Now that all of the parents and guardians had been called and reminded about the interviews, she could call it a day.
Pushing herself up from her chair, she rubbed her hands over her chilled shoulders. A draft of cool air rushed into the room through the partially open window. Once the window was closed, Makayla surveyed her first-grade classroom. Vivid paint, colorful posters and children’s art decorated the walls. A thick piece of red carpet sat in front of Makayla’s desk, a row of computers lined the far side of the room and three lumpy beanbag chairs sat near the overcrowded bookshelf.
The distant sound of car horns suggested rush-hour traffic was in full swing. A quick glance at her watch confirmed that it was indeed five o’clock. If Makayla wanted to be on time for karate class, she had to leave now. Shrugging on her jacket, she swung her tote bag over her shoulder and hurried out of her classroom.

“I hate men,” Makayla announced, yanking off her headband and chucking it into her gym bag. “Especially the fine ones. They cause the most trouble.”
Her best friends groaned simultaneously. The three women were at the King Bonk Institute of Martial Arts in downtown Philadelphia. Their five-thirty class was over and they were in the changing room getting dressed.
“Here we go again,” Desiree sang. “What’s the problem now?”
Makayla untied her karate belt. “What do you mean, ‘here we go again’?”
“Every time you go on a date you whine. You break into this ‘I-hate-men’ routine at least once a month.”
“What happened this time?” Brandi asked, freeing her chocolate-brown locks from their elastic band.
“First, he was over twenty minutes late to pick me up. By the time we got downtown, found parking and reached our seats, we missed half the movie. Then, when he dropped me home after dinner, he had the nerve to ask for gas money. Said something about his check being short this month and he’d pay me back soon.”
Brandi laughed. “Sorry, girl, but that’s a trip.”
“What was wrong with Reggie?” Desiree applied blush to her cheeks. “He worked for the city, had his own place and, if I recall, he was kinda cute.”
“Loose Lips Reggie? No way. That man was way too affectionate for my liking.” After a year of man-less days and nights, Makayla thought she was ready to jump back into the dating pool. But like her decision to cut her hair and grow it natural back in university, she’d been wrong.
Brandi frowned. “Too affectionate? Most women beg for romance and all you do is complain.”
“Who said anything about romance? Reggie’s idea of romance is day-old flowers, a six-pack and Steven Seagal movies.” Makayla blew out the air in her cheeks. These days she had a better chance of being struck by lightning than finding a good man. She’d had adolescent dreams of the man she loved sweeping her off her feet. But, at thirty-three, she’d settle for him walking her through the front door. Forget romance, candlelit dinners and wild, passionate sex. All she wanted was a single, gainfully employed man who didn’t live at home with his momma. “I’m through with the male species. I’m going to take a much-needed break from the dating scene and just concentrate on me.”
Desiree shrugged. “Suit yourself. That leaves more men for me.”
Makayla rolled her eyes. Desiree Hill could have any man she wanted—celibate, engaged or married. Men paid special attention whenever she was around. Her short, flirty boy cut drew atention to her oval-shaped eyes, and her pecan complexion had a soft, natural glow. Makayla landed a position at Springs Park Elementary School fresh out of university, and later that year Desiree joined the staff. Her quirky sense of humor and their mutual love of Jackie Brown movies bonded them instantly.
Makayla eyed Desiree through the mirror. “Like you don’t have enough men beating down your condo door.”
“A single woman can never have too many options.” Wiggling her hands under Makayla’s nose, she said, “Do you see any rings on these fingers?”
“But you said you’re not ready to get married.”
“I’m not, but it would be nice if Elliot proposed.”
Desiree had been dating Elliot Parker for three years, and even after all of that time Makayla couldn’t figure out what the attraction was. The corporate pilot was ultraconservative, reticent and, quite frankly, boring. Last Saturday, at Desiree’s birthday party, he didn’t say more than five words the entire night. Makayla didn’t care much for the man, but as long as he treated her friend well she had no complaints.
“Twinkie, you’re too picky. Stop being so hard on these men.” Brandi put a hand on Makayla’s shoulder. “You don’t want to wake up one morning and realize all you have for company are stray cats, do you?”
“How many times do I have to tell you to quit calling me Twinkie?” Feigning anger, she spread her hands out at her sides. “I lost sixty pounds, remember?”
Brandi stuck out her tongue. “Show-off!”
The two women had been friends since high school, and aside from Makayla’s weight loss, little had changed between them. Every time Makayla thought about how they met, she cringed. It was her first day at Lincoln High and she couldn’t have asked for a better day. She had a light schedule, made a friend in biology class and her sandals were holding up just fine. Her mom had given her enough money to buy a back-to-school dress, but she’d decided not to press the issue by asking for new shoes, too.
Makayla was shuffling through the cafeteria holding a food tray when she felt her right heel give way. Within seconds, she was sprawled out on the slick tile floor. Cream-of-mushroom soup dribbled down her cheek, gravy-soaked French fries stuck to her sundress and her bare legs were smeared with vanilla pudding.
A riot broke out across the room. Kids chortled until tears coursed down their cheeks. Some pointed, others made faces and a few chucked food. Horrified, Makayla tried to flee but every time she tried to stand up, she slid back down. Sobbing uncontrollably, she prayed one of the kind-hearted cafeteria ladies would come to her aid. But it wasn’t Ms. Fletcher or Ms. Petroski who came to her rescue. It was a chubby girl with beaded braids and crooked teeth. The girl pulled her up and practically carried her out of the cafeteria. Her savior introduced herself as Brandi Thomas, wiped her tears and cleaned her up. On the way home, Brandi stopped at the grocery store and bought a tub of Rocky Road ice cream. That had sealed their near twenty-year friendship.
“Where to?” Desiree asked as they exited the locker room and proceeded through the studio. Grunts, wails and groans permeated the air. The 7:30 p.m. self-defense class had started, and eighteen sweaty bodies in a tight space made for one putrid smell.
“Somewhere where I can get drunk,” Brandi said with a smirk. “After the week I’ve had, I need some hard liquor, a foot rub and some jazz.”
Brandi was a marketing director at a Fortune 500 company, and had been in a committed relationship with her live-in boyfriend, Jamaal, for years. A free, gregarious spirit, she was open to doing anything as long as it was entertaining.
Makayla laughed. “Well, I don’t know about the foot rub, but Bourbon Blue has a live band and cheap cocktails after six.”
“Naw, it’s always so crowded there. Let’s go to Zeke’s,” Desiree suggested, pushing open the front door. Outside, it was a cold but clear September evening. A gentle breeze ruffled the trees. “I could really go for their chicken-and-rib platter.”
Brandi nodded. “Sounds good to me!” Since the restaurant was only a few blocks away, the three women piled into her green Chevy Blazer.
Desiree clicked on her seat belt. “Makayla, did you leave work early? I came by your class but you weren’t there.”
“I was on phone with Mrs. Blake. She was yelling so loud I probably didn’t hear you knocking.”
“Is that woman still giving you a hard time?” Brandi asked.
Glancing out the window, Makayla said, “Veronika Blake makes the Wicked Witch of the West look like Mami from The Young and the Restless.”
Laughter erupted from the front seat.
Makayla didn’t join in her girlfriends’ laughter. Mrs. Blake had Principal Gibson wrapped around her finger and she questioned Makayla’s ability to teach every chance she got. Mrs. High-and-Mighty was making her life miserable, and it infuriated Makayla that she wasn’t getting more support from administration. “Terrance pulled the fire alarm and she blamed me for not keeping an eye on him! Said if I had been watching him he wouldn’t have gotten into trouble.”
“Is he really that bad?” Brandi wanted to know.
“Worse. Yesterday he flooded the boys’ washroom.”
“Well, don’t let this Veronika woman bully you,” Brandi advised. “Stand up to her or it’s going to be a very long year.”
“That’s easier said than done, Brandi. You’ve never had the misfortune of meeting the Wicked Witch of the West.”

On Thursday, seven-fifteen came and went without any signs of Veronika Blake. Closing her appointment book, Makayla pushed back her chair and stood. God does answer prayer, she thought, allowing herself a small smile.
Makayla erased the board, straightened the desks, and put a stray yellow cap in the lost-and-found box. Returning to her desk she contemplated whether or not to notify the school secretary that Mrs. Blake had missed her seven-fifteen appointment. Nixing the idea before it took root, she cleared the clutter off her desk. Wanetta was a sweet woman, but she could out-talk a TV evangelist, and after a long evening of parent-teacher interviews, Makayla was anxious to go home.
Piling notebooks into the homework basket, she checked the time. It was almost eight o’clock. Way past quitting time. Makayla counted the math folders, then slipped them into her bag. She hated taking marking home, but the tests had been sitting on her desk since Monday and she had promised to give them back tomorrow.
Saturday can’t come fast enough, Makayla thought, slipping on her jacket. Her gaze fell across the stack of old newspapers piled up in the recycling bin. A smile tugged at her lips. Makayla’s very first article was appearing in the weekend edition of The Philadelphia Blaze and she couldn’t be more excited. A lot was riding on the piece. If readers responded favorably, she’d be one step closer to being a travel writer. One step closer to living her dream.
Swinging her purse over her shoulder, she bent down and picked up her tote bag and basket. She turned off the lights and closed the door behind her. In the empty hallway, the growls of her equally empty stomach echoed. A soggy tuna-fish sandwich and a cup of raspberry yogurt had been her only meal of the day and she was so hungry, she felt light-headed.
Fantasizing about a thick slice of lasagna and some garlic bread, she rounded the corner and slammed head-first into what felt like a brick wall. Loose-leaf papers and notebooks sailed into the air, the contents of her purse spilled onto the floor and her feet slipped out from under her.
“I’m sorry,” she heard a voice say. “I didn’t see you.”
Are you blind?
An arm curled around her waist. Allowing the stranger to help her to her feet, Makayla frantically brushed the dust off her pleated skirt. Straightening her sweater, she wondered why things like this always happened to her. Prone to getting flat tires, spilling food and knocking things over, she kept her cell phone charged, spare clothes in her trunk and an emergency credit card on hand.
“Are you all right?”
Do I look all right? Anger gained control of her mouth, but when she glanced up at the stranger, her lips parted wordlessly. Staring down at her, with a remorseful look on his face, was none other than Kenyon Blake.
“Here, let me help you with your things.” He collected the sheets of paper littering the hallway, then proceeded to stack all twenty-two notebooks back into the plastic basket.
Standing rigid with shock, Makayla watched as Kenyon retrieved the contents of her purse. When he picked up her tube of mascara, she scrambled to action. Scampering around like a busy hen, she grabbed the box of gum, her leopard-print change purse and her car keys. Spotting two tampons by the heel of his shoes, Makayla prayed the earth would open up and swallow her whole.
Following her gaze, his full lips curved into a grin.
The heat of her humiliation quickly spread through her cheeks and down her neck. With as much composure as she could muster, she swiped the tampons off the floor and shoved them into her purse.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked. “You don’t look so good.”
Makayla forgot how to speak. The pitter-patter of her heart and her shallow breathing filled the silence. Swallowing, she touched a hand to her chest. Is this what it feels like to have a heart attack? she wondered, patting her brow with the back of her hand. “I’m fine” came out of her mouth in a painful squeak.
Kenyon Blake was standing in front of her, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Makayla knew she was staring, but so was he! The years had been kind to him. He had transformed from an adorable teen to one fine-looking man. Kenyon was extra tall. Extra dark. And extra handsome. The width of his shoulders suggested he was a man of great strength. His straight nose, sensuously wide mouth and smoldering brown eyes fuelled his bad-boy look. His skin was mahogany brown, smooth and clear. A single diamond stud clung to his right ear, and the chain around his neck held a cross at the end.
“You must be Ms. Stevens,” Kenyon said. “Sorry I’m late, but Terrance’s hockey practice ran long. I’m his—”
“Oh, of course,” she replied. “You’re here for the interview.” Makayla cringed at the sound of her high-pitched voice. What else would Kenyon be doing here if not for parent-teacher interviews? Now that he clued her in, she could see the resemblance between father and son. They shared the same dark skin, high forehead and blunt nose.
“I must admit, Ms. Stevens, you’re not what I expected.”
Same here. “I get that a lot,” she confessed. At a paltry five feet, two inches, Makayla was often mistaken for an older sister of one of her students.
Smoothing a hand over her hair, she wondered how her makeup was holding up. Her last three interviews had been back to back, which left little time to catch her breath, let alone freshen up. And the last thing Makayla had expected was to run smack-dab into her old high school crush.
I hope he doesn’t recognize me, she prayed. But how could he? In high school, the chips had been stacked against her. Grossly overweight, she had been saddled with thick glasses, colored braces and a severe case of acne. And it didn’t matter how many times her grandmother pressed her hair, it still looked like she had stuck both hands in an electrical socket.
Kenyon had been the all-American boy. Teachers loved him, male students emulated him and every girl on campus wanted him. Makayla never had any male friends in high school, let alone a boyfriend, and as her weight climbed, she realized someone as popular and as charismatic as Kenyon Blake would never be interested in a girl like her.
Makayla felt as if she was going to melt. Not only was sweat trickling down her back, wisps of hair were sticking to the sides of her face. Drying her hands on her skirt, she avoided his intense gaze. Get it together, girl! You’re acting like you’ve never been in the presence of a man!
“I don’t mean to hold you up, but Veronika will kill me if she finds out I missed the interview.”
I believe you, Makayla agreed silently. An image of Mrs. Blake flashed before her eyes and she shuddered. “How about we reschedule for one day next week?”
“Sorry, but I’m leaving for Fiji the day after tomorrow. I’m a freelance photographer so I take the jobs whenever they come. “
“I guess I could stick around a little while longer,” Makayla said. She cleared her throat to conceal the loud rumbles coming from her stomach.
His cheeks dimpled when he smiled. “Why don’t we discuss Terrance’s progress over dinner? That is, unless you have someone waiting for you at home.”
“That’s not necessary. My classroom is just down the hall. Please, follow—”
“I know a nice place up the street. What do you say?”
“I don’t know—”
“The service is great, the food is fast and it’s quiet.”
“I really don’t mind staying here.”
“I insist.”
“Well, I am hungry—” she said out loud.
“Then we can talk over dinner.”
Swayed by his smile, she nodded in response. His eyes were every bit as dark and mysterious as they had been in high school. Makayla didn’t think she could handle having dinner with Kenyon, but her curiosity got the best of her. She wanted to know if he had lived out his dream of playing in the NFL, if he still jogged five miles a day, but most important, she wanted to know how in the world he had ended up married to a woman like Veronika Blake.

Chapter 2
Kenyon glanced up from his menu, just in time to see Ms. Stevens exit the ladies’ room. He couldn’t believe this dainty woman with the pretty eyes and sensuous mouth was his nephew’s teacher. Her sun-kissed complexion paid tribute to her Caribbean roots, her cute, gumdrop nose gave her a youthful look and her curvaceous figure only added to her appeal. Everything about her from her shy smile to her tiny waist came together perfectly in a petite, compact package.
Hot damn! he thought, as he settled back into his chair. Kenyon must have spoken out loud because the plump-faced waitress strolling by stopped abruptly.
“Welcome to the Barbecue Kitchen. I’m Christine, but my friends call me Sunny.” She tapped her pencil on her notepad, her smile growing wider by the second. “Can I interest you in something to drink?”
“I’ll have a beer.”
“Great. I’ll be right back.”
Kenyon returned his attention to Ms. Stevens. He had never had a teacher that fine. Despite her low-key appearance and the air of timidity surrounding her, she was stunning. Her hair was pulled back, her makeup simple and her jewelry tasteful. The navy, slim-fitted cardigan, straight black skirt and sensible, round-toe shoes fit the bill for a first-grade teacher, but Kenyon had a feeling beneath all those stuffy clothes was one very sexy woman.
It wasn’t just her beauty he was drawn to. There was an innocence about her that appealed to him. “Here, let me.” Kenyon stood, pulled out her chair and waited until she was comfortable before returning to his seat.
“Thank you.” Makayla picked up the menu.
“See anything you like?”
“The spinach salad looks good.”
“Salad? You’ve got to be hungrier than that.” Kenyon helped himself to a roll from the wicker basket. “Don’t be shy. Order anything you’d like. It’s on me.”
Makayla downed her water in two quick gulps. “I’m not that hungry. I, uh, had a big lunch.”
An amused expression clouded Kenyon’s face. A big lunch? It was eight-thirty. Unless she’d eaten a buffet with all the trimmings, she was probably starving. Beckoning the happy-go-lucky waitress back over to their table, he said, “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
While Kenyon placed their orders, Makayla secretly watched him. This was all too much to take in. She was having dinner with her first crush. The only guy she ever loved. Or, thought she loved. At thirty-three, Kenyon was a husband and a father. How had that happened? Back in high school, Makayla had never pictured him the marrying type. Passing him in the congested halls of Lincoln High, surrounded by a bevy of perky cheerleaders, she had been convinced the all-star athlete would end up a life-long bachelor with children sprinkled all across the east coast.
“How is Terrance doing?” Kenyon asked once the waitress departed.
“Mr. Blake—”
“Call me Kenyon. The only person who goes by Mr. Blake is my pops.”
“Okay.” It took Makayla several seconds to organize her words. Labeling Terrance a nuisance would undoubtedly get their conversation off on the wrong foot and she needed Kenyon’s support to turn things around. “Terrance is a strong student. He excels in math and science, he’s reading at grade level and he has a vivid imagination. However, his behavior has been—” After searching for the right word and coming up empty, she said, “—less than desirable.”
His shoulders rocked with laughter.
“Did I say something funny?”
“Instead of trying to be tactful, why don’t you come right out and say he’s acting like one of Bebe’s kids?” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m not Veronika, Ms. Stevens. You don’t have to sugarcoat things for me. Be straight up.”
“All right. Terrance is doing well academically but his actions give me cause for concern.”
Kenyon suspected he would have any easier time extracting her wallet from her purse than getting a straight answer. “Which means?”
“He’s aggressive, defiant, disrespectful and—”
His face showed disapproval, but he didn’t interrupt.
“Yesterday I had to sit him out of gym because he kicked one of his female classmates. When I asked him to apologize he said he didn’t have to because I wasn’t his mother. There have even been a few occasions when he has thrown things in class. Sure, they’re small items, like crayons or marbles, but that doesn’t excuse his behavior.”
The expression on Kenyon’s face was serious. “He’s been having the same problems at home, but Veronika insists it’s normal kid stuff. The last couple years have been tough on all of us, but I think Terrance has been hit the hardest.”
“I asked Mrs. Blake if there was anything wrong at home but she said everything was fine.”
“Veronika doesn’t like to talk about it.”
The waitress arrived with their orders and hung around the table until Kenyon told her they didn’t need anything else.
Alone with their thoughts, they ate in silence for several minutes.
“Do you want me to order some more?” Kenyon asked, noting the depleted plate of nacho chips and Buffalo wings.
Flushed, Makayla wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “No, thanks. I guess I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
“Tell me about yourself, Ms. Stevens.”
“But we’re here to discuss Terrance.”
Kenyon grinned. “When I get home, I’ll get a switch from off a tree and give his butt the lashing it deserves. Problem solved.”
Makayla laughed, low and soft, her shoulders shaking lightly.
“I’ll have a talk with Terrance first thing in the morning. We have a great relationship and more times than not, he’ll listen to me rather than his mother. Veronika spoils him and he knows how to win her over.”
“Thank you. I think things will get better if we’re all on the same page.”
Kenyon pulled out his wallet and handed her a business card. “Feel free to call me anytime. I travel a lot but I’m reachable on my cell no matter where I am.”
“Hopefully I won’t have to call.” Makayla took the card and slipped it into her purse.
“I don’t even know your name,” Kenyon said. His eyes lingered on her lips. Like the rest of her, they were soft, moist and incredibly sensuous.
“My name?”
“You do have a first name, don’t you?”
The question triggered the memory of the first time they spoke. More than fifteen years had passed, but their conversation was still fresh in her mind. It was a balmy spring afternoon in senior year. Makayla was lounging under a tree, listening to Salt-N-Pepa, munching on a bag of potato chips. She felt a shadow fall across her face and opened her eyes. Lucas Shaw was towering over her, his thin, chapped lips moving at a rapid pace. Makayla couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the sinister expression on his face told her it wasn’t good. She slowly pulled off her headset. “Yes?”
Lucas kicked the side of her leg. “Beat it, moo-moo. We need to use this tree for an end zone and your fat ass is in the way.”
Hot tears burned her eyes as she gathered her things. Ever since Makayla wiped out in the cafeteria, Lucas had made it his personal mission to make her life a living hell.
Makayla was running across the field when she heard Lucas holler behind her, “Come on, QB, we’re ready to play.” She looked up just in time to see Kenyon and his girlfriend-of-the-month trot down the steps. After a long, sloppy kiss, the two love birds parted ways.
“What’s the hurry?” Kenyon asked. “You’re running like Freddy Krueger is chasing you!”
Makayla didn’t realize she was holding her breath until he waved a hand in her face. “Hello? Anybody home?”
Suddenly deaf and mute, Makayla blinked rapidly. The sun was blinding her eyes, so she arched a hand over her head. She had had a crush on him from the first day of high school, much like the rest of the girls in the freshman class. In a navy-blue football jacket, a white T-shirt and blue jeans, Kenyon looked like the poster boy for the U.S. Marines. His low top fade was neatly cut and his eyes, which twinkled whenever he was talking to a member of the opposite sex, were concealed by dark sunglasses. He was carrying his two most beloved items: a football and a camera.
“I’m Kenyon. I sit behind you in Mr. Ivanovich’s class. What’s your name again?” When she hesitated he said, “You do have a name, don’t you?”
“M-M-Makayla Stevens,” she said, finding her voice.
“You’re the smartest girl in our class and I couldn’t pass math if I had a cheat sheet. I bombed the last pop quiz while you got a perfect score.” His voice was tinged with sadness. “My pops said if I don’t pull up my grades, I’m off the football team. Can you tutor me? I can pay you ten bucks a week. Sound fair?”
Makayla spoke in a whisper. “Y-you don’t have to pay me. I’ll tutor you for free.”
“No, my dad says if you want something done right you have to pay for it.”
Lucas yelled across the field, “QB! Why are you talkin’ to fat ass? Hurry up, man, we’re waitin’ on you.”
Kenyon smiled down at her. “Can you meet me tomorrow in the library? Say twelve-fifteen?”
Too excited to speak, Makayla simply nodded in response.
Flashing those pearly whites again he said, “Thanks, Makayla.” With a smile and a wink, he sprinted across the field toward his friends.
For the rest of the semester, Makayla had been in her glory. Three days a week, she worked with Kenyon to complete his assignments and helped him prepare for the final exam. They chatted over lunch when they finished studying. Rather, Kenyon talked and Makayla listened. He shared his dream of one day playing football and taking care of his mom and stepdad. He never asked Makayla about herself and she didn’t volunteer any information. Unfortunately for her, Kenyon aced the next three tests and as quickly as their friendship had begun, it was over.
The sound of Kenyon’s voice jarred Makayla out of her daydream.
“I’m still waiting for that name,” he teased.
Makayla doubted Kenyon would remember her if she told him her full name, but it was better to be on the safe side. “Everyone calls me Kay,” she told him. It was only a fraction of a lie, she reasoned, ignoring the jab from her conscience. It grated on her nerves when people shortened her name but tonight, Kay would suit her just fine.
“How long have you been teaching?”
“Ten years. I graduated from Bryn Mawr College in ’96 and I’ve been at Springs Park Elementary ever since.”
“You went to Bryn Mawr?” he asked, his fork suspended in midair. “The all-girls school?”
“Yes.”
“For four years?”
“Yes. Why do you look so surprised?”
“Because most of the women I’ve met from there are—are—” Kenyon’s voice trailed off into silence.
“They’re all butch, bra-burning feminists, right?”
He shrugged. “Pretty much.”
“Bryn Mawr College is an exceptional school with high standards and top academic programs.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Her lips were a tight line. “I’m not offended.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not. You’re entitled to your opinion.”
Kenyon studied her face for a few seconds, then said, “Let me just go on the record as saying you’re the finest woman I’ve ever met from Bryn Mawr College.”
Her anger vanished and her lips relaxed into a smile. As far as Makayla was concerned, the compliment was better than the Prize Patrol showing up on her doorstep any day. Makayla felt a twinge of guilt. This was wrong, very, very wrong. Flirting with a married man was asking for bad karma. To divert the conversation away from herself, she asked Kenyon about his career. “You mentioned earlier that you’re a freelance photographer. How did you get into the business?”
“I’ve always loved photography, so when I busted my knee and my football scholarship fell through, I decided to get my associate degree. After graduation, I traveled across Europe, Asia and Africa building up my portfolio. When I returned to the States, I settled in New York. I was lucky enough to work with some of the biggest names in the industry.”
“It must have been hard being away from your family.”
“It was.”
“Do you travel a lot?”
“Too much,” he admitted, his eyes probing her face. “But I plan to be around a lot more. Terrance needs me now. I set my own schedule, which gives me the freedom to choose which jobs I take. I turn down any gig that’s going to keep me away from home longer than a week.”
Not much had changed since high school. Makayla still loved hearing Kenyon talk. She had more questions, but the waitress returned to collect their plates. Since neither one of them wanted dessert, Kenyon asked for the check.
“I had a good time,” he confessed.
It didn’t seem right agreeing with him, so Makayla smiled politely.
“Maybe we can get together once I get back from Fiji. We could catch a movie, or go for drinks. Dave Chappelle is doing a set at the Big Dog Comedy Club the last Saturday of the month. Interested?”
Caught off guard by his question, she took a few seconds to collect her thoughts. He didn’t even ask if I have a boyfriend. Is my single status that obvious? Makayla tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Beneath her straitlaced, university-educated facade lurked a very lonely woman. Sure, she had friends and an active social life, but Makayla yearned to find her soul mate. That one special guy who would love her unconditionally. “I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
“Why not? I won’t tell if you don’t,” he joked. “I can be discreet. Nobody has to know we’re kicking it.”
Is he suggesting we have an affair? Her feelings bubbled over like a pot of boiling water. Makayla hit him with an icy stare. Kenyon had been making passes at her all night and she was sick of it. He must think he’s something special! she thought, struggling to maintain her composure. Flirting was one thing but now he was crossing the line. He may be having problems in his relationship but he was still legally married and that meant he was off limits. “How can you be so insensitive? Terrance is broken up over what’s going on at home and your wife isn’t faring much better. I suggest you spend more time getting your family back together and less time hitting on me.”
Kenyon smirked. “My wife?”
“Yes, your wife.”
“You don’t understand,” he said, the humor heavy in his voice.
“No, you don’t understand.” Makayla threw down her napkin. “Your son is acting out because of problems at home and you’d rather play the field than attend to his needs. That’s despicable!”
“But Veronika and I—”
“Save it.” Makayla pushed back her chair, tossed down enough money to cover her share of the bill and grabbed her coat.
“Wait! It’s not what you think.”
“Womanizing jerk,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.
“Veronika and I aren’t married!”
“Whatever.” Makayla turned and marched through the restaurant without breaking her stride.

Chapter 3
“Class, don’t forget to bring your permission slips on Monday. The field trip to the Philadelphia Zoo is only a few weeks away.” Walking the length of the room, Makayla cleaned the chalk residue from her hands. She crouched down and helped Kiska tie her sneakers, then separated two boys who were using the rulers as swords.
After reminding the students to do their homework, she opened the door and took a fleeting look down the hall. Weaving his way through the throng of elementary students was Kenyon Blake.
What did he want now?
The bell rang and students swarmed around Makayla for hugs. Kids waved frantically as they scurried out the door and down the congested hallway. Returning to the safety of her desk, she yanked a random book off the shelf, sat down and started reading.
Terrance’s high-pitched laugh rippled outside the classroom door.
“All right, li’l man. I’m going to talk to Ms. Stevens while you play outside. I’ll be out in five minutes, so don’t drive off without me.”
“But I can’t drive!”
“Aren’t you eighteen?”
Terrance giggled. “No, I’m five!”
Burying her head in the science curriculum guide, she picked up a ballpoint pen and pretended to be making notes in the margins. Makayla could hear Terrance running down the hall and resisted the urge to call him back into the classroom. She had told him countless times that hallways were for walking, not running, but like everything else she said, the message obviously wasn’t hitting home.
“By the way you took off, I can only assume you’re not happy to see me.” Kenyon chuckled lightly. “Now is that any way to treat a concerned parent?”
Makayla kept her eyes on the book. She wanted to ask the two-timing snake what was so funny, but she bit her tongue. His cocksure attitude made her sick to her stomach. “What do you want, Mr. Blake?” Her tone was brisk and professional.
“I came to see you.”
“Is there a problem?”
“I’d say so. You think I’m an asshole, don’t you?”
“Yes.” The word slipped from her mouth with ease. Feeling contrite, she dropped her pen and looked up at him. He was even more attractive today, if that was at all possible. In a black leather jacket, turtleneck sweater and jeans, he reminded her of her favorite detective from the hit series New York Undercover. There was a gravity about him, a raw, sexual energy that was so intense, if she wasn’t careful she’d lose the good sense God gave her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“By the way, I like your dress. It hugs your body in all the right places.”
Makayla folded her hands. It was a good thing there was a desk between them or he would have her hand impression on his right cheek. If there was one thing she hated, it was conceited men who thought they owned the world. And Kenyon Blake was arrogance personified. “I don’t think your wife would appreciate you hitting on me.”
“I’d better stop teasing you before things get ugly.” Kenyon pulled a chair up to her desk and straddled it. “Veronika and I aren’t married.”
“Common-law unions are now recognized by the courts.”
“We don’t live together.”
She eyed him warily. “Don’t insult my intelligence, Mr. Blake.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“Veronika’s my sister-in-law, not my wife.”
Makayla searched his face for the truth. His smile was sincere and he sounded convincing. “But last night you said you were having problems at home. I took that to mean you were separated.”
“My brother was—he was murdered a year and a half ago.” His voice filled with emotion. “Felix loved his family. Terrance and Veronika were his whole world. They’re still having a really hard time dealing with his death. We all are.”
Makayla grappled with what to say. It had been almost fifteen years since she lost her mother to breast cancer, but the pain never went away. Overcome with sympathy, she said the only thing that came to mind, “I lost my mom years ago and I still miss her. I am so sorry for your loss.”
Kenyon nodded absently. “I tried to explain, but you blew out of the restaurant so fast, I didn’t get a chance.”
Makayla wanted to crawl into a hole so deep archaeologists wouldn’t be able to find her. “I had no idea.”
“I thought you knew. Terrance never mentioned it?”
Makayla didn’t want to tell Kenyon that every other word out of his nephew’s mouth was a lie, so she said, “Kids talk a lot. Sometimes it’s hard to separate fact from fiction.”
“You’re right. Terrance and his friends come up with the craziest things.”
They shared a smile.
“If you don’t mind my asking, what happened?”
“Felix was on the Criminal Apprehension Unit. He was shot while trying to arrest a gang member out on parole. It’s still hard to believe he’s gone.”
Kenyon glanced out the window. Seconds passed before he returned his gaze to Makayla’s face. His eyes were narrowed slightly, and his face was pinched in determination. “I’m going to help Veronika and Terrance get through this. That’s why I want you to call me the next time there’s a problem. Veronika has a lot on her plate right now and she doesn’t need any more added stress. You understand, don’t you?”
“I do. And I’m sorry I blew up at you. I didn’t mean what I said.”
Kenyon’s smile resurfaced. “You called me a womanizing jerk.” Clutching a hand to his chest, he used the other to wipe away an imaginary tear. “That hurt. I may be a womanizer, but I’m not a jerk.”
Makayla laughed. The delicious warmth of his smile alleviated the tension in the room. “Again, I’m deeply sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes alight with mischief. “What are you going to do to make it up to me?”
“Excuse me?”
“I think restitution is in order.”
“What do you expect me to do? Cook you a five-course meal?”
His face lit up like the Rockefeller Christmas tree. “Sounds great!”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“I don’t date parents.” She was quick to add, “Or relatives.”
Kenyon opened his mouth, but when he heard his nephew’s voice, he swallowed the flirtatious comeback.
“I’m hungry, Uncle Kenyon.” Terrance trudged into the classroom, dragging his backpack behind him. “Can we go home now?”
“Sure, li’l man.” Kenyon rested his hands on his nephew’s shoulders. To Makayla he said, “We’ll continue this discussion another time.”
Makayla smiled down at Terrance. Learning about his father’s sudden death made her heart soften toward him. She wasn’t going to let him continue to undermine her authority, but it wouldn’t hurt if she relaxed some of the rules for him. “Bye, Terrance. Have a nice weekend. I will see you bright and early on Monday morning.”
He grumbled in response, and Kenyon rumpled his hair. “Playing on the jungle gym must have tuckered the poor kid out.”
As she watched them exit the classroom, Makayla wondered just how long she could keep Kenyon at bay. Because one thing she remembered about the former football star was that when it came to the ladies, he didn’t take no for an answer.

Makayla poured herself a cup of coffee and took a bite of the lemon-filled doughnut she’d treated herself to. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she opened The Philadelphia Blaze to the Real Life section and skimmed the page for her article. Nothing. Brenda had promised her it would be on the front page, though this wasn’t the first time an editor had lied to her.
“It has to be here somewhere,” she said, ruffling the paper in frustration. But her article wasn’t on page two or three, either. Just as disappointment set in, she found what she was looking for. “How to Unleash Your Inner Vixen” was on the bottom right-hand corner of page six. Okay, so it wasn’t the front page but at least her article had made it into the third largest newspaper in Philadelphia.
A smile bloomed on her lips. Makayla got goose bumps seeing her name in print. Or rather, seeing her pseudonym in print. After all these years, her hard work was finally starting to pay off.
Makayla knew the article by heart, but that didn’t stop her from reading it out loud. Writing had been part of her life ever since college when she became the editor of the school newspaper. After stumbling across an old episode of Loveline on cable, the idea for an anonymous sex column was born. Over the next month, Makayla penned articles on everything from self-gratification to sex toys to finding the elusive G-spot. The articles were carried in the Friday edition of the paper, and when sales shot through the roof the first week, “The Lady Sexpot Files” became a daily column. To this day, nobody at the university knew Makayla was behind the racy articles.
She opened her laptop. Depending on the response to “How to Unleash Your Inner Vixen,” this could be a one-time piece or a weekly column. Makayla decided not to get her hopes up. But when her inbox came up on the screen, her eyes spread wide.
“Thirty-nine messages!” Makayla scrolled down the page. “This has gotta be a mistake!” She scanned the inbox. All of the e-mails were addressed to Lady Sexpot, her pseudonym.
From the common questions such as “Is whipped cream really an aphrodisiac?” to the crazy ones—“Will you marry me?”—Makayla read them all. She couldn’t erase the giddy smile on her face.
The strength of her article was in the frank, straight-talking interviews with self-proclaimed “vixens.” Not strippers, dancers or escorts, but housewives, bank tellers and flight attendants. All were intelligent, outspoken women who weren’t afraid to break the rules or chart new ground in the bedroom. Makayla had never done any of the things she had written about in the article, but when the right man came along, she would put all of her notes to good use. Three weeks of belly-dancing lessons had helped her feel more in tune with her body and increased her confidence. She couldn’t work her hips like Shakira but she could swivel her behind better than the other fourteen women in her class.
Makayla spent the next hour responding to her messages. The tremendous response to her article was bound to bring further success. She was sure of it. Makayla loved teaching, namely building relationships with her students and tracking their progress. Walking into a classroom and seeing children’s faces light up was the greatest feeling in the world. But as much as she enjoyed her job, she was ready for a change.
She could see it now. First-class flights. Stays in luxurious hotels. Hours spent at historical monuments. Cozy chats with the locals. It was the kind of life she had always dreamed of, and if everything went as planned, it wouldn’t be long before her dream became a reality.
She opened the last message in her inbox and her face radiated with pure joy. The message was from Brenda Van Buren, the senior editor at The Philadelphia Blaze.

Your column is a hit! Let’s set up a time next week to discuss your future.

She sent Brenda a reply and then logged off the computer.
“Time to celebrate!” It had been months since she had had lunch at Alfredo’s. The last time she had been at the Italian bistro was with Reggie, and he had spent so much time complaining about the food she hadn’t enjoyed her meal. Today there would be no distractions. Makayla licked her lips. She could almost taste the Louisiana-style chicken already. Her eyes strayed to the clock. It was still early. She had enough time to shower, dress and make it downtown for the start of Alfredo’s eleven o’clock brunch. Humming softly, she exited the kitchen and headed toward her bedroom.

“Welcome to Alfredo’s. How many in your party?”
Makayla smiled at the hostess. “Just one.”
“Would you prefer to dine in, or on the patio?”
The weather was unusually warm and the sky was clear. What better way to enjoy the day then spending it out in the sun? “Outside.”
“Please follow me.” The blonde led her outside to a table shielded by tall willow trees.
Makayla glanced around the patio. It was lined with chatting people, loners reading the newspaper and canine partners with their respective owners. “This will be fine. Thanks.”
“Your server will be with you shortly.”
From her corner seat, she enjoyed watching the world go by. Three college-aged girls were making eyes at a suit-wearing brother talking on a cell phone, an Asian couple argued in their native tongue and a group of professional women sang “Happy Birthday” to the stick-thin redhead at the head of the table.
Makayla picked up the menu. After a few seconds of perusing the day’s specials, she placed it off to the side and pulled out the book poking out of her handbag. If she wanted to have Sins of a Co-ed finished by the next book club meeting, she had to get going.
“Hi. I’m Cordell. I’ll be your server this afternoon. How are you?”
Makayla looked up at the waiter with a dreamy smile and a friendly face. “Fine, thanks.”
“Are you dining alone?”
“Yes, why?”
He winked. “Just checking.”
They traded looks. He checked her out; she did the same.
“Do you need a few more minutes with the menu or would you like to order?”
“I’ll have the brunch.”
“Is there anything else I can get you?”
Makayla smiled. As he eyed her up, something came to mind that one of the women in her book club group said last month. “Men love assertive women,” the chef-by-day-dominatrix-by-night had shared. “And the more daring, the better.”
“Are you single, Cordell?” Makayla had never been so bold.
“Very. Why don’t you give me your number so we can kick it sometime?”
“I don’t know—” Suddenly, her decision to swear off men seemed silly. Cordell was cute and he wanted to take her out. Just because she’d had a string of bad dates didn’t mean she should take herself off the market. Besides, her column was a hit. What better way to cap off a good day than with a date?
“So, can I get that number?”
“Sure, why not?” She recited her number.
Cordell scribbled it on his notepad and tucked it into his back pocket. “Cool. I’ll call you next week.”
“I’d like that.”
As Makayla watched him go, she wondered why she hadn’t been that confident when she talked to Kenyon yesterday. Stop thinking about the man, for God’s sake, she ordered herself. But blocking thoughts of Kenyon was impossible. He was outspoken, had the face of an Adonis, the body of a sculpture and although she didn’t have telepathic powers, she had a feeling he was a first-rate lover. If he didn’t have so much personal baggage, Makayla might have gone out with him.
Cordell returned to the table with her drink, then escorted her inside. While she skimmed the salad bar, he told her more about himself. He worked two full-time jobs, took night classes at the local community college and hoped to be a concert promoter one day. Despite his tight schedule, he offered to take her out for dinner next week. Makayla was weighing the pros and cons of dating someone eight years her junior when she spied Reggie standing at the bar. He was talking to a taller, lighter, more handsome version of himself. Funny, he had never mentioned having a brother.
If Reggie saw her, he’d stick to her like glue and Makayla couldn’t stomach any more of his worn-out lines. Water had spewed out of her mouth when Reggie had labeled himself “the last good man around” and squeezed her thigh. Laughing at the memory, she said goodbye to Cordell and hurried back out to the patio. If Reggie Ford was the best the world had to offer, then Makayla would die a lonely spinster.

Chapter 4
The breeze whipped Makayla’s face, sending shivers down her spine. Muffling her neck in the collar of her coat, she rocked aggressively from side to side. Her fingers felt like icicles and her hair thrashed around her face. Rubbing her hands together, she imagined her hands wrapped around a piping-hot mug of herbal tea. Any minute now, the bell would ring, signaling the end of recess, and Makayla would return to the warmth of her classroom.
Makayla glanced around the field at the children. Multicolored leaves whirled around them on the wind, but the kids played on, ignoring the stiff wind.
“Boys and girls, be careful,” she warned, watching two girls slip and slide on a pile of wet leaves.
Makayla felt a tug on her coat and looked down.
“Teacher, Terrance took my money.”
She stared down at the boy and smiled. He was the cutest little thing, his thin face bitten by the frigid wind.
“Then he told me to—to—” Embarrassed, the boy lowered his eyes. “He said a bad word to me, Teacher.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded furiously.
Makayla’s eyes scanned the playground. If she had any doubts about Terrance’s innocence, they vanished when he scurried up the slide and dove behind one of the plastic pillars.
She stormed across the field to the troublesome first-grader. “Terrance, come down here now!”
“No! I don’t have to listen to you!” Terrance emerged from behind the slide, a defiant expression on his face.
Makayla could not allow the disrespect. She climbed the steps. “You’re coming with me to the office.”
Terrance stepped back. “No, I’m not!”
“Oh, yes, you are.”
“You always pick on me!” he whined, stomping his foot. “I didn’t do any—”
Makayla reached out and grabbed his arm. To her shock, Terrance threw himself against her, freed himself and took off running. He leaped off the play structure and landed in the sandbox with a thump. A second later, an earsplitting scream shattered the morning silence.

“Don’t tell me I’m overreacting! That bitch hurt my baby and she’s going to pay!”
Kenyon tried calming down his sister-in-law, but Veronika only became more irate. Her recent tirade brought a nurse into the room who told them, “Excuse me, but it is far too loud in here.” She went over to the wall-mounted TV and turned it down, too.
“Hey! What are you doing? I was watching that!” Terrance snatched the remote off the table and punched up the volume.
Kenyon looked contrite. “I apologize.” Ever since they’d taken Terrance to The Children’s Hospital, he’d been apologizing for Veronika’s behavior, and his nephew’s. “We’ll keep it down from now on.” He looked at his nephew sternly. “Terrance, apologize. That is no way to talk to the nurse.”
His eyes remained fixed on the screen.
“Did you hear me?”
Nothing.
Kenyon put a hand on his shoulder. “Apologize. Now.”
“Stop yelling at him!” Sitting on the edge of the bed, Veronika cradled Terrance’s head to her chest and rocked him back and forth. “Can’t you see that he’s been traumatized? His teacher attacked him, for goodness’ sake! How do you expect him to behave?”
Unmoved by Veronika’s performance, Kenyon took the remote control out of his nephew’s grasp and switched off the TV. “Terrance, if you don’t apologize to the nurse, I won’t take you and your friends to the arcade next weekend.”
Terrance fiddled with his ID bracelet. “Okay, I’m sorry.”
“That’s better.”
“Any word on the X-rays?” Veronika asked the nurse, cradling her son in her arms. “I don’t need X-rays to know my baby broke his arm, but my lawyer said it wouldn’t hurt to have some hard evidence.”
“Doctor Harvick should be here any minute with the results.”
“Thanks.” Kenyon smiled at the nurse as she turned to leave. “And sorry we’ve been such a pain.”
Veronika smoothed a hand over Terrance’s cheek. “Mommy doesn’t know what she’d do if anything ever happened to you. You’re all I have.” Hugging him to her chest, she closed her eyes. “I love you, baby. More than anything in this world. Don’t you ever forget that.”
It was moments like this Kenyon truly admired his sister-in-law. It had to be tough being a single parent but he knew no one was more important to Veronika than Terrance.
Checking the time, Veronika released her son and pulled out her cell phone from her jean pocket. “I’m going to go call my lawyer again.”
Sighing, Kenyon drew a deep breath. “Don’t you think you’re blowing things out of proportion? Terrance is fine. He doesn’t even have a scratch—”
“You’re not a doctor,” she pointed out, cutting him off. “He may have internal injuries for all you know. Why aren’t you more upset? That woman could have killed him!”
“We don’t know what happened.”
“Terrance said Ms. Stevens pushed him and I believe my son.”
“But his classmates said he jumped.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying my child is lying?”
“I care about him, too, Veronika.”
“You have a funny way of showing it. You weren’t at his hockey game last week, now were you?”
Kenyon swallowed a retort. Every time something went wrong, Veronika reached back into the past and brought up his mistakes. His sister-in-law was hard to please, rarely satisfied and always angry. If she had not gotten pregnant, his brother probably never would have married her.
“I already apologized for that. It was a scheduling conflict that couldn’t be changed. I had to work.” Terrance was listening in and he hated arguing in front of him. If Kenyon wanted to, he could put Veronika in her place. Felix’s insurance money had only gone so far. Once the funeral was paid for and a college tuition fund established for Terrance, there wasn’t much left. Veronika didn’t make much as a hairdresser and it would be months before her salon turned a profit. Kenyon had taken care of all of her financial responsibilities since Felix died. Mortgage, utilities and insurance were paid in full, on time, every month. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to make life as comfortable as possible for them. Because of his generosity, Veronika could afford to live in one of the best neighborhoods in Philadelphia.
Kenyon rubbed a hand over his head. “Let’s hold off on hiring a lawyer until we know what happened. Once we know the truth we can—”
Veronika dismissed his suggestion with a flip of her hand. “Terrance wouldn’t lie to me. There’s nothing to discuss. Ms. Stevens hurt him. Case closed. I’m going to sue the skirt off her and there’s nothing you can say to stop me.” She brushed a strand of dark blond hair out of her eyes. “No one messes with my baby and gets away with it!”
Kenyon had heard enough of his sister-in-law’s ranting for one day. He was just as upset as she was about what happened but he wasn’t going to lose his head. Kenyon knew little about Ms. Stevens, but she didn’t strike him as the kind of person who would intentionally harm a child. She was warm and nurturing and seemed to have a soft touch for kids. Then again, he’d learned a long time ago that looks could be deceiving. Kenyon turned to Terrance. “I’m going to the cafeteria. Do you want anything, li’l man?”
Absorbed in cartoons, Terrance shook his head.
“Veronika?”
“No, thanks.”
Kenyon opened the door and strode down the hall to the elevators. As she reached out to press the down button, the elevator doors slid open and Ms. Stevens stepped off.
“Oh,” she said, stopping abruptly. “Hi.”
Kenyon took a deep breath. Her feminine fragrance sweetened the antiseptic smell in the corridor. “Hello, Ms. Stevens.”
Makayla could tell by his subdued greeting that he wasn’t happy to see her. Still, she could see the deep brown flecks in his eyes more clearly under the fluorescent lights, as well as his flawless skin. The man was truly a sight to behold. “I came to see Terrance. How is he?”
“We’re waiting on the X-rays.”
“Can I see him?” She lifted the bag she was holding in her hand. “I bought him something to help pass the time. Nothing big, just some puzzles, a few coloring books and his homework.”
Kenyon stole a look down the hall. Veronika was standing outside Terrance’s room, talking on her cell phone. “Now’s not a good time.”
“When should I come back?”
“I’ll tell Terrance you stopped by.”
Makayla held out the bag. “Can you see to it that he gets this?”
“Sure.”
“Do you have a few minutes? I was hoping we could talk about—”
“You bitch!”
Makayla froze. Storming down the hall, screaming obscenities marched Veronika Blake. Narrowly missing an elderly man in a wheelchair, she flung her hands and yelled, “How dare you show your face here after what you did!”
Eyes wide, Makayla looked helplessly at Kenyon. She shrank back like a panic-stricken child and frantically jabbed the elevator button. “I’ll leave.”
Kenyon felt for Veronika, he really did, but now was not the time for her to act out a scene from A Thin Line Between Love and Hate. He stepped forward, blocking her path. “We’ll discuss this later.”
“Like hell we will. I’m going to kick her ass!”
Kenyon gripped her shoulders. “No, you’re not. You’re going to go back to Terrance. He needs you, remember?”
The mention of her son’s name momentarily calmed her. Her thin lips curved into an ugly sneer. She wagged a finger at Makayla. “If you ever put your hands on my son again, you’ll be sorry. Trust me. You haven’t heard the last of me, Ms. Stevens. This is only the beginning.” Straightening her sweater, she shot Makayla an evil look and tramped off.
When Kenyon turned around, he was shocked to see Ms. Stevens shaking. Her eyes were heavy with tears and her bottom lip was quivering. As curious as he was to find out what had happened that afternoon on the playground, he didn’t have the heart to question her. Overtaken by compassion, he put a hand on her back, steered her into the open elevator and said, “Let’s go somewhere to talk.”
The main-floor cafeteria was bright, modern and clean. There were dozens of round tables and several gigantic windows, which overlooked an open field. Hospital personnel occupied many of the tables.
Makayla plopped down on one of the cold plastic chairs and buried her face in her hands. This had to be the worst day of her life.
After recess, Principal Gibson had summoned her to his office. He’d stared at her for several minutes before he finally asked, “What happened outside at recess, Ms. Stevens?”
Since Makayla had nothing to hide, she told the truth. “I grabbed Terrance’s arm, but he broke free and jumped off the play structure. Everything happened so fast I—”
“You do know the school’s discipline policies, don’t you, Ms. Stevens?”
“Yes, but—”
“School personnel are not supposed to touch children in an aggressive manner.”
“I am well aware of that, Principal Gibson, but I had no other choice. Terrance wasn’t responding to my orders and—”
“Terrance said you pushed him.”
“He said what!”
“Is that true, Ms. Stevens? Did you hurt that child?”
“No, of course not. I would never—”
Principal Gibson leaned forward in his chair, his gaze strong and intense. “Have you ever heard of teacher burnout, Ms. Stevens? In my day, things like this happened all the time. Stressed teachers would rough up students and—”
Makayla tuned out. Images of being frisked and handcuffed in front of her students attacked her fragile mind. In one of her more lucid moments, she heard Principal Gibson ask if she was okay. She must have nodded, because he advised her to seek legal counsel and informed her the superintendent would be in touch.
Later that night, Desiree showed up with a tall, lean-faced man who smelled like new money. Impeccably dressed in a charcoal gray suit, shiny cufflinks and a designer watch, he strolled into Makayla’s living room as if he had the deed to the house.
Desiree knew a host of white-collar men, everyone from plastic surgeons to city officials to restaurateurs, so Makayla didn’t blink when she was introduced to Chancellor Hughes, attorney-at-law. Somewhere between serving coffee and telling her side of the story, Makayla remembered that she was innocent. She wasn’t burned out, or stressed, or lashing out like Principal Gibson had implied. She was wrong for grabbing Terrance’s arm but she wasn’t responsible for his fall. Makayla listened politely to Mr. Hughes, but when he recommended she take a polygraph test to clear her name, she kindly showed him the door.
“Give it some thought,” he told her, handing over a crisp white business card. “Don’t hesitate to call if you need me.”
After a quick stop at the school, Makayla drove straight to The Children’s Hospital. Terrance could lie to the devil himself and make it interesting, but she had a hard time believing he could look at her, with his mother and uncle listening in, and say she pushed him off the jungle gym. On the drive over, Makayla had geared up for the inevitable confrontation with Mrs. Blake, but when the irate mother stormed toward her, with guns drawn, she lost her nerve.
Using a tissue to wipe her face, she contemplated whether to appeal to Kenyon. Her inner voice told her she could confide in him, but Makayla had faced enough hostility for one day and she couldn’t handle him blowing up at her, too.
Kenyon returned to the table, handed her a cup of coffee and sat down. Sitting across from her, he couldn’t help noticing how much prettier Kay looked with her hair down. She had thick, lustrous hair that his hands were anxious to touch. To keep from acting on his impulse, he sipped his coffee. “Are you okay?” he asked, keying in on her nervousness.
Her words came out in a painful whisper. “I didn’t push Terrance off the play structure. He jumped.”
Kenyon eyed her over the rim of his cup.
“I would never do anything to hurt one of my students. Never.”
Scratching the stubble on his jaw, he slowly shook his head. He knew this was coming, but he was still shocked by her admission. His gut feeling was that Kay was telling the truth. Kenyon loved his nephew, but unlike Veronika, he saw the boy’s devious side. Ms. Stevens wasn’t the first person to complain about Terrance’s defiant streak. Everyone from babysitters to other parents to relatives had labeled him a problem child and predicted a life of trouble if Veronika didn’t lay down the law now. “I’ll talk to Veronika.”
“You will?”
“I had a feeling Terrance was lying.”
“You did?”
Kenyon ate a curly fry. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry about all of this. It’s my fault. I should have waited until all the kids went inside before I confronted him.”
“I don’t blame you. I should be the one apologizing. Terrance hasn’t been the same since my brother died, but there’s no excuse for what he did.”
“Death is hard for kids to cope with. I was a teenager when my mom passed and it almost destroyed me. I was angry at the world but instead of lashing out at others, which I suspect Terrance is doing, I ate. I used food to fill the emptiness I was feeling inside.”
“But at least you weren’t hurting anybody.”
“I was hurting myself.” She toyed with her purse straps. “When I graduated from high school, I was almost two hundred pounds!”
“No way.” Kenyon took in her appearance. He liked her jeans-and-blazer look. It was simple, pretty, casual. Kay had the face of an angel, a long, slender neck and eye-catching curves. It was hard to believe she had once been a candidate for an extreme makeover.
“Believe it. I have the pictures to prove it.”
“I’d like to see them sometime.”
Makayla looked away. She didn’t know what had possessed her to tell Kenyon about her past. If she wasn’t careful, she would jog his memory and he’d remember who she was. It was unlikely, but stranger things had happened. “I should get going.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
“No, you’re not finished eating.”
She was right. He hadn’t even tasted his cheeseburger yet. “Thanks for coming by. I’m sure Terrance will love the gift.”
“It’s the least I can do.” Makayla could talk to Kenyon for hours. He was a good listener, understanding, and he didn’t judge her. She didn’t want to leave, but fear of seeing Veronika again pushed her to her feet. Dangling her keys between her fingers, she lifted her head and met his smile. “I guess that’s it then.”
“I guess so.”
Kenyon concentrated on his burger. There couldn’t be a worse time to put the moves on her. His nephew had blackened her name and there was a good chance she could lose her job. “I’ll be in touch,” he called, as she made her way through the cafeteria. Her jeans hugged the curves of her butt and her leather boots added several inches to her height. Kay was sexy in a natural, unprofessed way. His gaze followed her through the cafeteria doors and into the parking lot. Soon, she disappeared among the rows of emergency vehicles and police cruisers.
Kenyon finished his burger. Getting the truth out of Terrance wouldn’t be easy. He had inherited his mother’s stubbornness and even at the best of times, he couldn’t be reasoned with. Glancing at his watch, he wondered if it was too late to call and set up a meeting with Principal Gibson. The sooner this situation was cleared up, the better. Standing, he collected his garbage and then dumped it into the trash bin.
As he got on the elevator, he couldn’t help wondering who was waiting for Kay at home. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t in a serious relationship. There was only one way to find out for sure. After he got the truth out of Terrance, they would pay Kay a visit at home. A bouquet of flowers and a small gift were sure to soothe her feelings. And once everything was sorted out, he would make his move.

Chapter 5
When Makayla arrived at school on Monday morning, Principal Gibson was waiting in her classroom. He greeted her warmly, said he was happy to see her and shared the details of his Friday-afternoon meeting with Terrance and his mother.
“I knew that boy was lying, Makayla. You wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Chuckling good-naturedly, he plopped down on the edge of her desk. “I suggested the boy be transferred to another class, but Mrs. Blake wouldn’t hear of it.”
Makayla shrugged off her coat. “But I made it very clear I didn’t want Terrance to remain in my class.”
“I know, but his mother made a stronger argument for why he should stay. He’d have to start over in a new class, he’d be separated from his friends and he’s a strong student. You said so yourself.”
Makayla couldn’t think of a single student who considered Terrance a friend.
“Just so you know,” Principal Gibson continued, “I let Terrance have it. I told him if he ever pulls a stunt like that again, he’ll be asked to leave our school.”
Makayla found that hard to believe. Mr. Gibson practically slobbered all over himself whenever Veronika was around, so she seriously doubted he had reprimanded Terrance in her presence. Rather than argue with her boss, she said, “I appreciate that, Mr. Gibson.”
“Mrs. Blake was concerned you might penalize Terrance for the stunt he pulled, but I assured her that wouldn’t be an issue. You’re a professional and what happened last week is in the past.” He smiled softly. “Terrance has a lot to deal with. You know, with his father’s passing and all.”
Makayla nodded. “I recently became aware of the situation.”
“Maybe you could cut the boy some slack when he’s out of line.”
She’d tried being extra patient with Terrance, knowing he deserved understanding and sympathy. But the next time he hit a classmate or swiped something off her desk, she would demand he be transferred. Principal Gibson was extending his support, but Makayla had a feeling when push came to shove, he’d relent again. Mrs. Blake was very convincing, and Makayla’s boss was easily swayed. At least where Veronika was concerned.
Makayla thanked Mr. Gibson for coming. When he left, she walked over to the window and stared outside. As she admired the soft, mellow light of the sun, her thoughts turned to her meeting with Brenda Van Buren. It wouldn’t be long before a position in the travel department opened up at The Philadelphia Blaze. For now, she would pen her weekly column as Lady Sexpot and hone her writing skills. But when the opportunity presented itself, she would have no problems resigning and packing a suitcase for Rome. Or Singapore. Or Barbados. It didn’t matter what the assignment was. As long as she was doing what she loved, she’d be happy.

A week after the incident on the playground, Veronika showed up in the middle of the afternoon, with cake, ice cream and soda. When she announced that it was Terrance’s birthday and she wanted him to celebrate with his friends, Makayla slapped a smile on her face, told the kids to put away their math books and donned one of the glittery party hats. She’d hoped to review the subtraction lesson with the class before tomorrow’s test but by the time they finished cleaning up after the cake, there were only ten minutes left in the day.
Makayla kept at least three kids between herself and Veronika all afternoon. It annoyed her no end that her desk was used to cut cake and dish out ice cream, but she kept her mouth shut. One run-in with Veronika was enough. Makayla was walking around the room, collecting garbage and wiping down desks, when Mrs. Blake called her name. “Where is the class going on Wednesday?” she asked from behind the lens of her digital camera.
“We’re going to the zoo to observe the plants and animals in their natural habitat. It’s an opportunity for the students to—”
“Do you still need volunteers?”
The thought of spending an entire day with Veronika made Makayla shudder. “Extra volunteers are always welcome.” She injected her voice with a kindness she didn’t feel. “Are you available on Wednesday from nine to two?”
“No, but my brother-in-law said he’d be happy to go.”
“Great.”
Veronika stared lovingly at Terrance, a wide smile on her lips. “Try not to let anything happen to my son this time.”
Relieved that Mrs. Blake wasn’t coming on the field trip, Makayla chose to ignore her last comment. “Can you remind Terrance that he has to be on his best behavior? If there are any problems, you’ll be called to pick him up.”
“It’s not your place to tell me how to raise my child. And I don’t appreciate you threatening him, either.”
Makayla stood her ground. “I am not threatening anyone, I am merely asking you to speak to your son.” To further underline her point, she added, “We don’t want what happened at the museum to happen again, do we?”
Mrs. Blake made a sour face. No doubt she was thinking about what had happened last month. Terrance had tried to pin the blame on a classmate but the janitor had signaled him out as the one who wrote on the walls in crayon. The cleaning bill had set Mrs. Blake back hundreds of dollars and Terrance had been banned from The Philadelphia Museum for a year.
“If you’d rather I speak to Kenyon, I will.”
Her lips were a tight line. “No. I’ll talk to Terrance.”
“Thank you,” Makayla said with forced gratitude. Making a mental note to replace the sweatsuit she had been planning to wear with something dressier, she returned to her desk and added Kenyon’s name to the volunteer list.

Kenyon chucked his jacket in the back seat, grabbed his camera equipment and slammed the car door. The fickle autumn weather had changed again, providing a surprisingly warm day, and he didn’t want to be stuck lugging his jacket around the zoo.
Kenyon checked his watch as he searched the zoo parking lot. Springs Park Elementary should be here any minute. Instead of standing at the entrance among the crowd, he went inside the customer information booth and settled down on one of the wooden benches. He was engrossed in the morning paper until he heard Kay’s voice, loud and clear.
Tossing his newspaper aside, he turned his attention to the eye-catching woman surrounded by a pack of restless first-graders. Sexy had never looked so good. From his vantage point, he had a clear, unrestricted view of Kay’s delicious backside. Blue jeans outlined her strong legs and a teal-colored shirt hugged her lavish chest. When she tossed a fleeting look over her shoulder, Kenyon was sure he had been made, but just as quickly as she glanced around, she turned away. He allowed himself a few more minutes of quiet reflection. Or rather, lustful gazing.
Last night, he had driven Terrance to her Patterson Park home to apologize for what had happened on the playground. They hadn’t stayed long, but Kenyon had gathered all the information he needed. Dinner and a movie wouldn’t work with a woman like Kay Stevens. She didn’t own a TV, VCR or a DVD player. In fact, the only piece of electronic equipment in the living room was an outdated stereo system. When Kenyon asked her what she did for fun, she motioned with her head to the numerous bookshelves lining the wall and said, “Read.”
That had thrown him for a loop. Most women would have said shopping. Not Kay. She would rather stay home and read than go dancing. Kenyon couldn’t remember the last time he had bought a book but he’d head to the closest bookstore and buy a whole stack of reading material if it meant getting close to Kay.
Kenyon had wandered around the living room, noting the simple decor and natural designs. Furnished with cozy sofas, armless chairs and overstuffed bookcases, it resembled a bookstore. He had perused the shelves. The reading material she owned provided incredible insight into the shy but sexy teacher. Instead of educational resources, he found hundreds of books about sex, including the Kama Sutra, the Woman’s Gourmet Sex Book and various issues of erotic magazines. The collection had left Kenyon short of breath. If Terrance had been at home, rather than in the kitchen with Kay making cocoa, Kenyon would have gone in there, pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
Kenyon settled back onto the bench, listening to Kay lecture the students gathered around her, enraptured by the soft, pleasant tone in her voice. For the last twenty-four hours, he had been trying to figure out why she would have so many books about foreplay, erogenous zones and aphrodisiacs. She couldn’t be involved in anything as daring as escorting, could she? Kenyon examined her again. No, she just didn’t give off that kind of vibe. In his presence, she was skittish, flustered, almost tongue-tied. Could it be an act? Was it possible she was really none of the things she appeared to be?
His face relaxed into a smile. It didn’t really matter whether she was acting or not. Kenyon hadn’t lived as a monk; he knew what was up. These days, women weren’t at home waiting by the phone for a man to call. They were out in the clubs, seeking a good time, thirsty for some action and adventure. Kenyon liked experienced women. The more experience the better. He wasn’t one of those men who had sampled all that life had to offer but wanted a good, clean girl to bring home to mom. A bad girl would suit him just fine.
Thoughts of making love to Kay plagued his mind. He saw them kissing, exploring, undressing. With all those naughty sex books at her disposal, she probably had moves he had never seen. Kenyon sighed in silent appreciation. It wouldn’t be long before they were acting out their own private fantasies.
Draping an arm over the bench, he stretched his long legs out in front of him. His interest in Kay Stevens grew every time he saw her. The slender, dark-skinned beauty had a lot going for her. Not just physically, either. Making love to her was at the fore-front of his mind, but he liked that she could also carry on an intelligent conversation and had a mind of her own.
“Shut up, Abe!” Terrance’s voice carried around the park. “My uncle Kenyon is coming. He promised!”
Kenyon grabbed his camera bag and walked quickly to the front entrance. His nephew had been disappointed a lot in his young life and he couldn’t stand to see the wounded expression on the boy’s face a second more.
Makayla stared at the iron gates, hoping to catch a glimpse of Kenyon through the crowd. If he didn’t arrive in the next five minutes, she’d have no choice but to start without him. All of the students had been assigned to a group, but it would only take a second to reorganize the six kids standing behind Terrance.
A perky, dark-haired girl wearing a green park-ranger uniform emerged from the tourist information booth. “Good morning, Springs Park Elementary, and welcome to the Philadelphia Zoo, home of 2,200 exotic mammals, birds and reptiles. I’m Becky and I’ll be your tour guide for the morning—”
Desiree gripped Makayla’s forearm. “Who is that tall glass of fine making his way toward us?” she whispered out of the side of her mouth. “Please tell me that’s not Terrance’s uncle.”
“I wish I could.” It wasn’t every day Makayla saw Desiree drool and she couldn’t resist teasing her. “Close your mouth, girl. Flies are getting in.”
“Uncle Kenyon!” Terrance took off running. He flung himself into his uncle’s arms, his eyes shimmering with delight.
Kenyon tossed him high in the air. “Hey, li’l man.”
“You’re here!”
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I used to live at the zoo, you know. I came to see my old friends!”
Terrance took his uncle by the hand and dragged him over to the group. “This is my uncle Kenyon!” He stuck out his tongue at a freckle-faced boy wearing glasses. “Abe, I told you he’d come!”
Makayla smiled. She couldn’t remember ever seeing Terrance this excited. It wasn’t her place to offer parenting advice, but someone had to tell Kenyon his nephew was desperate for more of his time and attention.
It took a few minutes for the kids to settle down and return their attention to the tour guide. “On to the lions!” Becky shouted, tiptoeing down the road. “We have to keep quiet. They have super-duper hearing and a strong sense of smell. We don’t want anyone to get gobbled up by a jungle lion, do we?”
Kenyon approached Kay. “Sorry I’m late but traffic was insane.” The lie rolled off his lips with ease. “I got here as fast as I could.”
“No problem.”
Their eyes did the tango. He stared; she looked away. She stared; he held her gaze.
Desiree stepped forward. “I guess I’ll have to introduce myself since my co-worker here has forgotten her manners.” She nudged Makayla with her elbow. “I’m Desiree Hill, the other first-grade teacher at Springs Park. I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Blake.”
Kenyon turned away from Kay and shook Desiree’s outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you. I think you and I should talk.” He read the confusion in her eyes and explained, “I want you to tell me everything you know about Ms. Stevens.”
Desiree laughed and Makayla coughed.
“Are you all right?” Kenyon asked, a grin enveloping his lips. Kay looked like as if she was about to collapse. Her breathing was shallow and although it wasn’t hot by any standards, she was fanning her face.
“Fine, thank you.” In an effort to reclaim her poise, she cleared her throat. Handing him a yellow piece of paper, she said, “Everything you need to know is right here. Thanks again for coming. We really appreciate your taking the time out of your day.”
“My pleasure.” Something about the way he looked at her told her he wasn’t talking about the field trip. Makayla’s mind drifted back to last night. When she opened her front door and saw Kenyon and Terrance on her doorstep, carrying a bouquet of flowers and a box chocolates, she had almost lost her footing and teetered off the steps. Thunderstruck, she could scarcely speak. In a short-sleeved shirt, a pair of tattered shorts and natty hair, she had been quite the sight but Kenyon didn’t seem put off by her appearance. Her emotions had seesawed between excitement and all-out fear, but she had kept herself together during the hour-long visit. Terrance had been on his best behavior and surprised her by being incredibly polite.
Makayla spotted Terrance leaning toward the lion cage. If there was one thing she knew about the willful six-year old, it was that he had an eye for trouble. Heaving her backpack over her shoulder, she said, “Let’s go. We’d better keep up with the kids.”
Kenyon smiled at her, his gaze lingering on her full lips. “Lead the way, Ms. Stevens. I’m right behind you.”

Chapter 6
For the next two hours, the group meandered around the zoo, snapping pictures, feeding the animals and playing in the sun. The children didn’t want to stop for lunch, but Makayla ushered them into the cafeteria.
“I wish Mr. Blake was my uncle,” she overheard one of the boys from Desiree’s class say.
“Yeah, he’s cool!” another said.
Makayla smiled. The kids were right; Kenyon was cool. Clearly, he had a way with women and children. She was impressed at how quickly he had developed a rapport with the kids. They clung to his every word, fought over who was his favorite and begged to hold his hand. At one point, Makayla saw Kenyon jump up on a bench and impersonate a gorilla. The kids had laughed hysterically. As the day wore on, she found herself looking for Kenyon’s group. She told herself she was just checking in on the kids, ensuring that everything was going smoothly, but deep down she knew her interest in Kenyon was personal.
Makayla was in line, waiting for her order, when she noticed Desiree and Kenyon sitting on the far side of the cafeteria. They were an arresting pair. Both were tall, dark and attractive. A casual observer would have taken them for a couple and as Makayla stood off to the side, watching them, she couldn’t help wondering if Kenyon was interested in her co-worker. It wouldn’t be a shock if he was. Most men were.
“Number ten?”
Makayla stepped forward. She picked up her tray and walked carefully through the cafeteria. Since Terrance and most of her students were outside with the parent chaperones, she started toward the door. Terrance had been a model student all day but she knew how quickly things could change.
“Makayla, over here!”
Pretending she didn’t hear Desiree, Makayla continued toward the doors. Desiree called her again, but this time, her voice was twice as loud. “Over here! By the window!”
“We were just talking about you,” Kenyon confessed when she approached. He stood, took her tray and put it down on the table beside his own. “Here, have a seat.”
“I can’t stay.” Smiling, she motioned toward the doors. “I’m going to eat outside with the kids.”
“They’re fine,” Desiree told her, glancing outside the window. “There are tons of volunteers out there. Relax.”
Careful to leave an adequate amount of space between them, Makayla took a seat on the bench. She directed her question to Desiree. “What were you guys talking about?”
“I didn’t know your full name was Makayla.” Kenyon cocked a brow. “Keeping secrets, are we?” When he grinned, his eyes literally shone.
To keep from saying too much, she focused on her salad. Shoveling lettuce into her mouth, she concentrated on not getting Caesar dressing all over her face.
“Have we met before?”
“No. Why?”
Kenyon frowned. “Makayla Stevens. Hmm. I’m sure I’ve heard that name before. I just can’t remember where.”
She reached for a napkin and inadvertently knocked over her cup. Orange juice spilled onto Kenyon’s tray, dousing his plate of chicken wings. Apologizing profusely, she sprang to her feet and mopped up the mess with a stack of napkins. “I am so sorry,” she said, wiping madly. “Wait here. I’ll go get you some more.”
Kenyon covered her hand. His touch was warm, pleasant, calming. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, the wings weren’t all that.” He rose to his feet. “Be right back.”
Makayla and Desiree watched him leave. When he was a safe distance away, Desiree said, “That man is something else. Fine and smart. Too bad I’m not single!”
“I can’t believe I did that!” Makayla shook her head at her folly. “He probably thinks I’m a klutz!”
“I doubt that. Did you see the way he was checking you out?”
Makayla looked down at the bench to ensure it was dry before retaking her seat. “Kenyon Blake is way out of my league.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’m serious.”
“You’d better get that man before some else does. Men like Kenyon are hard to come by. He’s hot, down-to-earth and he has a kick-ass sense of humor.” Desiree grinned. “Did I mention he was fine?”
Makayla laughed. “Okay, so he’s a great guy, but that doesn’t mean I want to date him. I’m in a good place right now and I don’t need a man complicating my life.”
“Go out with him.”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“For starters, I’m his nephew’s teacher. How would that look?”
“Like you were trying to get some!” Laughing, she took a healthy bite of her turkey burger. “Don’t use that as an excuse. There’s nothing in the school conduct manual that prohibits teachers from dating parents or family members.”
Desiree made a valid point but not one that Makayla was willing to consider. “Do I have to remind you what happened with Jared?”
“No, thanks. I’ve heard that pitiful tale too many times to count.”
“Good, so you of all people should understand my reluctance to get involved with another parent.” Makayla picked up her fork and popped a crouton into her mouth. Against her better judgment, she had started dating Jared Lewis, a regular parent volunteer. The divorced father of two had swept her off her feet. Dinner at upscale restaurants, tokens of his affection and elaborate dates had been the norm. Within weeks, they were addicted to jalapeño pizza and talked endlessly about their future.
When one of her co-workers ran into them at a charity baseball game, the truth about their relationship had ripped through the school like a midafternoon snowstorm. Neither of his children were in her class, but when word got out that they were dating, Makayla had been shunned by her colleagues. It was as if she had broken some cardinal rule no one had told her about.

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