Hypnotic Seduction (The Seduction Series) (42 page)

“What’d you say”—Margie Bradford choked on the warm chocolate chip cookie that had shattered her willpower — “your teacher’s” —
cough
— “name is?”

Her throat continued its spasm to expel the lodged crumbs while her daughter, Emma, slapped Margie’s back hard enough to leave a permanent handprint.

Didn’t they cover the Heimlich maneuver in health class anymore?

Then again, it would serve her right if the coroner listed cookies as the cause of her death. The last thing her thirty-six-year-old body needed was
more fat
and sugar. Since Dan’s death five months ago, her hips had spread like an albatross’s wings.

Emma dashed to the kitchen sink, splashed water into a glass, and shoved it into Margie’s hand. “You okay, Mom?”

“Yes,” she gasped. Or she would be—just as soon as she confirmed she’d suffered from an auditory hallucination.

She gulped the water, and inhaled the mouthwatering aroma of chocolate melting in the oven. For the preservation of her waistline, she had to find something besides sweets to reward her students in the future. “Your Human Development teacher—what’d you say his name is?”

“Mr.
Manion
.” Her daughter’s light gray gaze narrowed. “Why? Have you met him?”

“No,” Margie squeaked. At least, she sure as heck hoped not. There must be thousands of
Manions
in the world. Squashing her paranoia, she forced her voice back down the full octave it had
risen
. “What’s his first name?”

“How should I know?” Emma rolled her eyes. “Someone probably mentioned it, but I forget. Do you tell your classes your first name?”

Her daughter had a point. Most of Margie’s middle school students wouldn’t know her name, either—especially since she was new to the district.

“Whatever it is, he’s the only teacher in the whole darn high school
who
pays any attention to me. My class before his is practically next door, so I always get there early. Mr. M sits and talks to me every day while he’s waiting for the rest of the kids.”

Margie pulled the last tray of cookies from the oven and flipped the control dial off. “So how old is he?”

“
Ewww
.” Emma wrinkled her nose. “It’s not what you’re thinking. He’s just being nice. We talk about movies, books….what I want to do after graduation. Stuff like that.”

“I wasn’t suggesting the man was hitting on you.” Margie sucked in a deep breath in a futile attempt to force her pulse to return to its normal rhythm. “I was simply trying to get a mental picture of him.”

Yeah, right. And if her daughter didn’t spit out what the man looked like in the next thirty seconds, Margie would expire from asphyxiation rather than death by Toll House cookies.

“I guess he’s a little older than you.” Emma shrugged, brushing her long dark hair back from her face. “It’s hard to tell. All I know is his son, Alex, is an absolute hunk. I’d give my entire CD collection for a date with him.”

Seeing her daughter act like a normal seventeen-year-old again warmed Margie’s heart. Regardless of her teacher’s identity, his extra attention was just what the child needed.

Ever since Dan’s 737 crashed the previous spring, Emma had been having nightmares and spent a lot of her free time sleeping. She’d been her daddy’s little princess, and she missed him terribly. Perhaps even more than Margie did—which was a lot.

Cookies might dull her pain during the day, but at night, they just left crumbs in the vacant half of her bed.

Emma’s resemblance to Dan brought a lump to Margie’s raw throat. She swallowed hard and transferred the baked goodies to the wire racks spread across the center work island. “Okay, so what’s he look like?”

Her daughter filched a warm cookie and nibbled it, pacing the length of the condo’s kitchen. “
Mmm
, I’d say his hair’s about the same shade of light brown as yours before Aunt Barbie talked you into the highlights. And his eyes....” Her dreamy sigh said her description was of Alex, not his father. “They’re like two shimmering pools of mercury.”

“No-o. His dad.
What’s he look
like?”

Emma did a double take and peered at her. “Why the inquisition about Mr.
Manion
?”

What could Margie say? That she wanted to know if the teacher was the same
guy
who’d gotten her pregnant and broken her heart eighteen years ago? “I’m just curious.”

“Actually, he looks a little like daddy—only taller.”

In other words, dark hair and silver eyes. Just like Jake
Manion
. The bitter taste of dread overpowered the sweet chocolate lingering on her tongue.

“You’ve probably seen pictures of him when he was younger,” Emma added. “He was a famous quarterback
a gazillion years
ago. He coaches our high school team now.”

Margie’s knees buckled, and she sank onto one of the counter’s stools. That tidbit of information erased all doubt. Little wonder Emma didn’t know his first name. The media had always referred to Jake as....

“
Rocket
Manion
,” Margie whispered.

“So you’ve heard of him?”

One would have to be Amish not to have heard of Jake. Until ten years ago, his face covered every major sports magazine and appeared regularly on the
boob-tube
. He’d played in the NFL for eight seasons and taken his team to three Super Bowls, two of which they won, before a couple of three-hundred pound behemoths broke his back.

It was only natural Emma hadn’t recalled his first name. Ever since Jake had streaked sixty-yards for his first NFL touchdown, he’d been
Rocket
to the media and all his fans.

“You’ve been in his class for three weeks now. Why on earth didn’t you mention your teacher is a sports legend?”

“Why would I?” Emma looked at her as if she suspected Margie had taken some mind-altering drug. “You
hate
football. Anyway, he’s really nice. I’m definitely registering for his Marriage and Family class for the spring semester. With any luck, he’ll tell me some more stuff about Alex.”

Wonderful. Margie knew Jake had a son, but she hadn’t realized the boy was so close to Emma’s age.

“How old is Alex?”

“He’s a senior, too. Mr.
Manion
told me he was born the night he played his first Super Bowl. So I guess he’ll be eighteen in January.”

Around the same time their baby would’ve been due. Apparently, Jake must have had a grand time the previous spring, buzzing from flower to flower—
pollinating
.

Emma leaned on the counter and began sketching in her art pad. “Anyway, it’s not as if Alex would ever notice
a nobody
like me. He’s the first-string quarterback and is so gorgeous he can have any girl he wants.”

If the kid looked anything like his father, Margie didn’t doubt his popularity. For the first time in her life, she was grateful the Lord had given her daughter such a shy, quiet personality. If the boy was as sought-after as Emma suggested, it would take a girl a lot more vivacious and outgoing than her to set off Alex
Manion’s
radar.

But what if, God forbid, he
did
notice her?

She could always pack her daughter off to an all-girl boarding school for the rest of the year.

Except that was exactly what her controlling mother would’ve done. Katherine Hunter had kept such a tight rein on Margie she never even had a date before she married Dan. Or since he died, for that matter.

The only time Katherine permitted Margie out of her sight had been the single weekend Margie visited her cousin at college to tour the campus of one of the few schools her mother was willing to chip in on the tuition. A last-minute change in her work schedule was the only reason Katherine had allowed Margie to attend her preadmission interview without a chaperone.

Margie absolutely refused to follow in her mother’s footsteps, controlling every moment of her daughter’s existence. She didn’t want Emma blaming her for ruining her life the same way Margie’s overbearing mother had destroyed hers.

Or for her daughter to leave home and never return.

All she could do was pray Alex would never ask Emma out. Of course, if the boy’s attention span was anything like his old man’s, even if Alex developed an interest in Emma, it would only last four days.

Margie slid off her stool and placed the greasy cookie sheets in the sink. It was simply too weird that she and Jake had ended up teaching in the same school
distr
—

She slapped her hand over her mouth. Wait a minute. Her pain-in-the-A-double-S cousin had orchestrated this last May at the same time she’d talked Margie into blonde highlights and using a little of Dan’s insurance money to have LASIK surgery.

Barbara had been the one who’d given Margie the Bucks County classified clipping for her job as a reading specialist.

What had her cousin hoped meddling would accomplish? Did she think she could atone for landing Margie in Jake’s bed by throwing them together a second time?

With the way Barbara had nagged her to apply for the job and move to Pennsylvania last spring, Margie should’ve known her cousin was up to something. Except, after Dan died, she’d been in such an emotional daze she’d been lucky to put her shoes on the correct feet.

She just thanked God Jake and she taught at two different schools on opposite sides of the township. Since the district
was so spread out,
with any luck, she could finish the year without running into him. In May, she’d look for a new position west of the Mississippi.

Or better yet, west of the Rockies.

“So, as I was saying earlier,”—Emma’s voice yanked Margie out of her reverie—“Mr.
Manion
gave me a quiz to bring home for you.”

A test for her? That was just peachy.

Jake had been halfway to getting his masters in psych. How the heck had he ended up teaching—in the Family and Consumer Science department, no less? He should be coaching a pro team or exploiting his jaw-dropping good looks as a television football commentator.

“He wants the parents to complete as much as they can without looking anything up. The point is to give you an overview of what we’ll be learning this year. He’s
gonna
go over the answers with you all tomorrow.”

Margie snapped her gaze to Emma, creasing her forehead. “Tomorrow?”

“Uhh—
yeahhh
. Remember? Back-to-school night?”

The cookie dough she’d eaten settled like a lump of clay in her gut. On the bright side, at least she wouldn’t have to
fake
an upset stomach to get out of attending that little soiree.

Chapter
1

June—eight and a half months later....

“What do you
mean
you got Emma pregnant?” Jake
Manion
stared across the diner’s booth into a pair of silver eyes identical to his. He flinched at the clatter of dirty dishes the
busboy
dropped behind him.

“Exactly what didn’t you get about that, Dad?” Alex shrugged his broad quarterback shoulders. “I’m
gonna
be a father.”

The previously appetizing aroma of coffee and fried onions turned Jake’s stomach. A father? His son
wasn’t done
being a kid yet. He gazed out the window in a futile attempt to draw some serenity from the green rolling hills. “How the hell did this happen?”

“You’re the Human Development teacher.” Alex snorted. “You tell me.”

“Very funny. This isn’t a laughing matter.” It was his worst nightmare.

“Who’s laughing? How’d you like me to answer these stupid questions?”

Jake’s eye twitched as he struggled to maintain his composure. “Okay, smart guy, you managed to score nearly two thousand on your SATs, and you have a three-point-nine GPA. So tell me this—has
anything
I’ve preached to you over the last eighteen years penetrated that high-performance brain of yours?”

“My brain wasn’t exactly on duty at the time.”

“That’s right, I forgot
it’s
June first. It must’ve gone south for a vacation in your
Levi’s
. You’re graduating in twelve days. Do you realize what you’ve done to your life? And
Em’s
?”

The dark shadows under Alex’s eyes said he was well aware of what a baby would mean to their future. Jake knew firsthand how scared the kid must be.

“I suppose this is why you look as if you haven’t slept in a week and why your calculus teacher told me you’ve been nodding off in class?”

A guilty look flickered in Alex’s gaze as he turned his face away. “Yeah, I guess so.”

And here Jake had been attributing his kid’s distraction in school to a severe case of senioritis.

Alex leaned back in the booth, stretching his favorite Penn State T-shirt across his muscular chest. The kid only had nine of them. To look at him, no one would believe he’d weighed less than four pounds at birth. Jake swallowed hard. And now his son was about to become a father.

Damn, he felt ancient.

“You know, Dad, it’s easy for you to lecture me and your classes about abstinence when the only breasts you’ve touched in years were from KFC. I’m not a monk like you. I can’t kiss Emma and not get turned on.”

Jake understood precisely how tough it was. His son could be his clone except for Alex’s lighter hair. Having a sweet young woman’s body pressed against him had brought Jake more heartache than he wanted to remember. “Believe me,
Alex,
I understand how hard it can get.”

His son clapped his hand over his mouth and groaned. “That was bad.”

Jake closed his eyes. “You’re right. It was.”

Alex stacked a pile of sugar packets, making a pyramid. “Anyway, if you really know how
hard
it gets, you wouldn’t spend every Saturday night grading papers and
workin
’ on your dissertation.”

His kid’s jaw would hit the floor if Jake told him about his afternoon quickies with one of the school’s guidance counselors. Alex had no concept of the intense sense of déjà vu their exchange gave Jake. It was like watching an instant replay of
his own
life. Except he’d taken the flip side of the conversation nineteen years ago. His urge to throttle his son made his father’s response back then seem quite calm and reasonable. Jake definitely owed his dad an apology.