The Rose of Blacksword (73 page)

“No complaints about my inhibitions either,” he added. “They’re wide open, lady psychologist.”

She swallowed hard. “Then have a go at the word list.”

He handed her back the marking pen. “Oh, no—I’m having much more fun observing.” His eyes raked over her, raising her body temperature another notch.

Why did she think she was losing the battle with this man? Did his women ever win? “Fine,” she said, deciding retreat was the better part of valor—at least at that moment. She added, however, one last parting shot. “Maybe the afternoon exercise will be more to your liking.”

She turned and paraded back to the head of the classroom then, leaving him with a frown between his bold, dark brows.

She knew she shouldn’t get discouraged. Male doctors were the most resistant, not to mention stubborn, particularly the good-looking, I-believe-I-am-omnipotent type. But the harder they resisted, the harder they fell.

And that was something she would look forward to—Joel’s tumble.

The rest of the students began to drift back to their seats. She knew she should concentrate on the day’s agenda rather than on the rugged silver-eyed man who was there in her classroom.

She could feel his gaze on her still, but she denied that was the source of the shivery thrill permeating her.

“Well now,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even. “Are we having fun yet?”

A rousing round of cheers, mingled with a few wolf whistles, reverberated through the room.

She smiled.

At least the exercise had been deemed a success by most of the class.

“Who would like to be first to read one of the lists?”

Writing the words was one thing; reading them aloud to the group was another. She glanced around for volunteers and found a few, though those few were avid.

Joel was not among them. He leaned back in his seat, looking as though he believed her course was just one step away from a charlatan’s act.

She skipped over him to a more willing student, and then another. The word lists were
read off to a chorus of easy laughs and giggles. The class discussion was open and free, which was the effect she’d hoped for.

The only one she had left to reach was Joel.

Joel listened to all the gab, all the energy being wasted on chitchat. There was even some male posturing, more than one trumped-up tale of sexual prowess designed to impress the teacher.

He supposed he couldn’t blame a guy for wanting to impress pretty Maggie Springer. He’d do handstands on her doorstep himself just to see her break out that wide, sexy smile of hers.

“Dr. Benedict, perhaps you’d like to give us your opinion.” Maggie’s voice vibratingly low and sultry called him back. Her eyes held a slightly taunting glint.

She wouldn’t be happy until she’d drawn him, kicking and bucking like a mule, into her class discussion.

“My opinion?”

She swept him with her gaze, making his pulses pound. Her lips looked full and pouty, as if they were just begging to be kissed.

He shifted in his seat, trying to recall what the hell the group had been talking about. He hadn’t heard a thing since some drivel about
men being more reluctant to talk about their sexuality than the female of the species.

Why talk about something that could be worked out in the bedroom? It got down to the nitty-gritty fast—and it was a whole lot more enjoyable.

But that was before the macho Sam had tried to wow Maggie with his “positive sexual experiences.” More drivel. The man thought he had bragging rights.

But where had the discussion gone since then?

“Dr. Benedict, would you please stay for a moment after class? I think we need to talk.”

“Talk?”

But Maggie had moved on to another attendee, leaving him to ponder just what the hell he’d done to get her riled.

And she was riled.

He could tell by the slight flare of her nostrils, the small, faint crease that had appeared between her velvety eyebrows, the squaring of her shoulders.

When class was finally over for the morning, he waited until most of the students had straggled out of the room, each pausing for a special word with Maggie as they filed past her desk.

It was clear she was a big success in her
students’ eyes. They all had a smile or a word of praise. So did Maggie for each of them.

She made everyone feel special.

He leaned back in his seat and lazily watched the golden lights that brightened in her brown eyes, the way she tilted her head as she listened, the animation in her face and body language as she spoke.

It seemed an eon before the last one had drifted out the door and Maggie glanced up to lock those wide eyes on him.

Why did he feel like a delinquent high school kid asked to report to the principal? He had a little remorse now for the times he’d ordered his daughter to stay in on a school night. Kimberly was sixteen, just entering the dating scene—and that had him plenty worried these days. It wasn’t easy for a parent, especially a single parent.

He slid his tall frame out of the small chair. His white doctor-coat felt glued to his backside, and he was sure he had permanent kinks in his knees.

Maybe he’d take the afternoon off for a sail. He’d miss out on three hours of observing the sultry Maggie sashay back and forth across the front of her classroom, but on the other hand, he could supplant that with a few very male
fantasies of her as he soaked up the rare autumn sunshine on the deck of the
Sail Away
.

He was a little surprised at how far his feelings had gone in so short a time. It worried him—more than a little bit.

“Thank you for staying, Doctor. I thought we should talk.”

He sauntered toward the front of the room and met her gaze. “Don’t you think you can call me Joel after a whole morning of … intimate discussion?”

She arched one eyebrow eloquently at him. “
What
discussion? I didn’t hear you add a single word.”

“Yeah, well, I was listening.”

She let out a sigh. “That’s not true, Doctor.”

“Joel,” he reminded her. She was right. He’d been so absorbed in her that the words hadn’t registered.

“Joel.”

Just then his beeper sounded, a loud blip-blip-blip in the quiet room. “I, uh, have to get that. Maybe we can talk another time?”

Maggie wasn’t about to let him off that easily. She
should
just chalk him up as a man who couldn’t be reached, one stubborn male doctor, but she still had a lot more fight left in her—and she wasn’t ready to give up on him.

Not yet.

“Another time would be fine,” she said. “How about over dinner tonight?” A discussion away from the classroom setting might be more effective, she reasoned to herself. She wasn’t sure just how she would handle her attraction to him, but she’d think of something. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, of course not. Tonight. Dinner.”

Just then his beeper sang out again.

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The Rose of Blacksword
is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright © 1992 by Rexanne Becnel
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The Rose of Blacksword
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