Free Getting Some Of Her Own by Gwynne Forster Page B

making her dependent on me. Don’t make jokes.” She had a feeling that if he pursued it, she would explode.
    He put the coffee cup down and glared at her. “You did what? I didn’t know about that. You are not supposed to develop a relationship with these children, because most of them are either from troubled homes and are having a problem with at least one parent. A relationship with you can only compound the problem.”
    She rested her right knee on her left one and let her right foot swing with vigor. The man knew exactly how to trigger her temper. “I didn’t realize that they taught psychology in schools of architecture. That little monkey is not going to hurt Rudy. Besides, she said she’d play with him when she was in bed, so that one of her foster sisters or brothers wouldn’t take him away from her. What do you think of that? And as for taking her home, I suppose you would have watched her walk out into that downpour without an umbrella and then gotten into your Lincoln Town Car and driven home dry as a tunnel rat. Well, not me .”
    â€œOf course psychology is taught in schools of architecture. And you’ve got a smart mouth. I don’t care how you rationalize it, you’re out of line. You have the program’s guidelines, and I’d appreciate it if you would read them and abide by them. Otherwise—”
    â€œOtherwise I’m fired? You’ve got a lot to learn, Mr. Hamilton. Nobody pushes me around. My pupils are learning to read, and they are enjoying it. Parents want their children to learn to read and read well. Hold my record up against your stupid rules, and which do you think will win?”
    â€œOtherwise, you may explain it to the school board.”
    She sat forward. “You wouldn’t dare do that.” The two hours weekly that she spent with the children had become the most gratifying, happiest moments of her life. She couldn’t have children of her own, but she could enjoy nurturing other children who needed her. “You wouldn’t be that cruel.” She didn’t realize that her personality had practically shriveled as she contemplated the prospect of not being with the children.
    He drained the coffee cup and stood. “I signed a form agreeing to abide by the rules, just as you did. That means I gave my word, and if I turn my head and pretend I don’t know what you’re doing, I’m as guilty of infractions as you are. I’m sorry, because I wouldn’t like to hurt you, but—”
    â€œBut if I’m nice to that lonely little girl, who goes there in spite of the fact that the other children jeer at her and tease her about her clothes and her living conditions, you’ll do your damned duty and drop me from the program.”
    Realizing that tears had begun to cascade down her cheeks, she jumped up and ran to the kitchen.
    â€œWhat’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
    She turned her back to him, walked to the window and pressed her face to the glass. Her flesh remembered the feel of his hard, but gentle fingers and responded to him. Slowly, he turned her to face him, but she wouldn’t look at him. Her tears were no longer for the children she might not see again, but for the children she would never have, for the trauma of losing her maternal rights to an ailment that had eventually afflicted her mother and grandmother. His arms went around her, and she clung to him.
    Susan knew when his breathing changed; and when he stepped back in order to see her face, but didn’t release her, shivers raced through her. The fire in his eyes burned with an unmistakable message and, on the brink of becoming victimized by her vivid recollection of their one-night tryst, she stepped away from him.
    â€œForgive me for taking advantage of your generosity, Lucas. I rarely cry, but back there, a lot of things crowded in on me. I’m sorry.”
    Until she made herself look at him, he