A Flower for Angela (11 page)

He looked around him. The rest of the children shuffled toward Angela. She opened her arms to them.

"There's nothing to be afraid of. Mr. de la Cruz and I know it was an accident."

The children swarmed around Angela. A million questions poured forth, and Ricardo realized she had been right. They needed to see that their teacher was not angry.

The students surrounded him, as well. He knelt down. Small arms wrapped around his neck as he held the ones who squeezed close.

Their openness and neediness moved him. He glanced up and met Angela's gaze. Shared understanding passed between them. One child crawled onto his lap and tugged hard at his neck. Angela tried to keep a straight face at his predicament. The fact that children tugged and pulled on her, too, saved his sense of dignity. Patience and a sense of humor were definite requirements to have around this many children.

It astonished him that they would be so uncertain of her reaction. Come to think of it, they should be. But the way she soothed them conquered their doubts and fears.

Just as the students began to settle down, Ken came through the adjoining door. Amid the confusion, Ricardo managed to speak to his friend over the heads of the children.

"Did you get the equipment picked up?"

Ken nodded, rolling his eyes slightly, letting Ricardo know the extent of the damage. He'd worry about it later.

"I'm taking Angela home. You can go on back to the station,” he told the cameraman.

"I think I'll stick around for awhile. Maria might need some help."

Ricardo looked closely at Ken. Did he detect a hint of interest for Angela's attractive teammate? No wonder Ken hadn’t protested doing him this favor all month.

"Suit yourself,” he advised with a sigh. This project was turning into something neither of them had bargained for.

THE DRIVE TO ANGELA'S
passed quickly and in silence in the light traffic of early afternoon. He walked her to the door, preparing for the protest he knew she would make.

"Thanks for bringing me home, Ricardo." She turned to smile goodbye after unlocking her apartment door. "And for being so helpful with everything at school."

"I'm not through taking care of you yet,” he informed her as he took her elbow and gently but firmly guided her into the apartment. "I'm staying."

The telltale flush on her cheeks tickled him. So the idea pleased her, too. But he wagered she wouldn’t admit it. He won the bet.

"You don't need to stay." Her objection was weak. "I know you're busy."

He gave her a mock stern look. "Your principal ordered rest. Direct me to the kitchen, and while you sit down and take off your shoes, I'll fix us something to drink."

"You don't need to wait on me."

"I could lie down with you." He leered at her playfully. He loved it when she blushed.

"Really, Ricardo, I'm fine." She sank down on the velvet sofa.

He knelt in front of her. Grasping a slender ankle, he pulled off her shoe. His hand slid part way up her silky calf to brace her foot on
his lap. With firm strokes, he massaged the bottom of her foot. Her toes curled around his fingers and a gasp of pleasure escaped her lips. Ricardo watched her reaction with growing pleasure of his own.

After massaging her other foot he lifted her legs onto the couch. He longed to remove her linen slacks and coral blouse and take her right then and there, but he wanted more from a relationship with her than just physical satisfaction. She was the type of woman who wouldn't appreciate fast moves, so he contented himself with observing her beauty.

"You're spoiling me, you know,” she warned him as he fluffed up the pillows behind her.

"And you love it.”

"Uh-hmm,” she admitted before she closed her eyes.

A lump formed in Ricardo's throat. She looked so inviting, reclining there as if she were waiting there for him. He wished that she was his. He cared for the woman.

He cleared his throat. "How about if I make us some iced tea?" Maybe the cold drink would cool him down.

"There's some iced tea in the fridge."

"I'll get it."

Rummaging around in her kitchen, he found the glasses. He took ice from the freezer and in another cupboard he located a bamboo tray. He noticed how neat and orderly she kept her belongings. Funny, he thought, she struck him as highly organized, yet her classroom seemed chaotic.

There were those doubts and criticisms again. He didn't want them to interfere with his feelings for Angela. He resented that her job had to come between them.

Ricardo lifted his frosted glass and held it against his forehead. The cool moisture from the condensation eased his headache. How could he resolve this untenable situation?

"Find everything?" she called from the living room.

"
Sí
. I'll be right in."

With quick, deft movements, Ricardo dropped ice cubes into the glasses and poured the tea.

"You have a nice place here." His hand shook as he passed her the glass of tea. She glanced up as the ice tinkled against the crystal.

"Angela, we need to talk."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm not changing my mind.”

"I wasn’t going to ask you to. I want to understand what you're doing. What you said earlier makes sense. Our schools do have a high rate of failure."

He set his iced tea on the coffee table and massaged his brow.

"The high dropout rate is what prompted me to run for the board five years ago." He looked at her then continued. "It's especially high for Hispanics, you know."

"Over fifty percent." She shook her head in sorrow. "It's a shame."

Yes
, he silently agreed. He had been a dropout himself, a
cholo
hanging around with a street gang. He'd bought into the role of a failure, at first. But he'd overcome his low self-esteem and wanted to help others do the same. It wasn't easy, but he was committed to devoting time and energy to improve the educational system in the
barrio
. Just as Angela was, in her own way.

"You really care,” he commented—more to himself than to her. "You stood up to me over your cause today." He knelt in front of her and grasped her hands to emphasize his words. As he did so, he tried not to think about how much he wanted to kiss her. "You showed me, Angela. You opened my eyes to the fact that you may really have hit on something here."

"Do you understand what it is?" she asked, hopefully.

"I'm trying to." His look willed her to believe him. "I want you to show me—make me understand the validity of your program."

Angela sat up, searching his eyes. Sincerity—and something more—radiated from their depths.

“I'll teach you, Ricardo,"

"Will it be that difficult? The way you're looking at me, I’d say you
think the task is impossible."

Couldn't he tell the look she was giving him was not one of skepticism but of relief—and joy? "No. It won't be
that
hard."

He smiled and her heart melted. Reaching up, he smoothed the crease between her eyebrows.

"You looked as if you weren't sure you could pull it off.”

"I'm not certain. You have to admit, you can be hard-headed at times."

"Me?" He rocked back on his heels.

"You." She jabbed a finger at his chest.

He grabbed her hand and brought her palm to his lips. "I may be difficult to teach, but I'm easy to love."

Yes
. He teased about
making
love, but she imagined loving Ricardo would be altogether too easy for her own good. "I doubt I could teach you anything about that."

"I have a feeling you could teach me too much."

"You're probably right. I am an expert.”

"I want to kiss you, but I suppose we should wait until all this is over."

My job
. She didn't want to think about it now. In truth, she had forgotten all about her position. Ricardo could make her forget everything.

"We have one more session, and then the following Friday is our conference with the professors. After that…" He shrugged, but there was promise in his eyes. Another trait she had discovered he possessed today—he had nerves of steel. Hers, on the other hand, felt like Jell-O pudding.

"You have a one-track mind,” she accused as she leaned back from his embrace. A resigned expression settled across her features.

He laughed. "Guilty, I'm afraid. And, around you, it definitely tracks in the wrong direction." A wry smile creased his cheek as he reached for his glass of iced tea. "So much for getting you to relax."

"Maybe we should watch TV.” She pointed to the remote control on the table behind him.

He picked it up and pressed the “On” button. The television, located against the far wall in a black lacquered cabinet, came on. The jingle of a pop com-mercial blared into the room. She grimaced.

"You'd better sit over there,” she said, gesturing to a swivel chair several feet from the couch. His nearness would make any concentration on the screen impossible.

"Do you think it’ll do any good?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No. But it'll help."

He sat in the chair and raised his glass in a toast. "One week to go,
querida
."

CHAPTER 7

QUERIDA
.
The Spanish word for "dear one" echoed over and over in her mind. The term was used by Hispanics among close friends but was also an endearment for lovers, and she could all too easily envision Ricardo whispering it in her ear as such.

She mustn't think about that. It might never happen. But what of his toast?
One
week
to
go
. He might as well have said that he was waiting for her. She shivered with nervous anticipation. What did he plan to do? And how would she react?

All he had to do was cast a sexy look her way and she'd melt on the spot. If he touched her, she would be his.

But she shouldn't allow intimacy to flourish between them. Their positions demanded they maintain a professional relationship. She couldn't face the prospect of another scandal like the one with Steve. She was established in her job, and her life was progressing the way she wanted… No, she didn’t want to jeopardize it all for a few moments of pleasure. Nevertheless, lately her emotions appeared to be overriding her logic.

"She did it!"

Glancing across the room, Angela took in the lights flashing and the music blaring from the television. The young contestant had just won the game show's top award. Angela looked over at Ricardo.

The way he pumped his fist in the air, you’d think he had won instead of the contestant. His sportsman’s spirit compelled him to cheer another's victory.

He turned and their gazes locked. He lowered his arm and leaned away to drain the last of his iced tea. Surely he didn't think that gesture would create a distraction? She held her breath.

"Are you involved with someone else?" he startled her by asking.

An invented involvement would be an easy out for her. Protection. She was about to say “yes” when his gaze faltered with a hint of what? Hurt, disappointment? Angela knew that feeling.

"No,” she whispered.

"I'm glad."

"And you? Are you in a relationship?"

He shook his head and stared meaningfully at her. "I'd like to be."

She couldn't move or speak. Her eyes widened and her mouth parted in unconscious invitation.

A sharp intake of breath alerted her to his sudden movement. Her gaze traveled up the long columns of his legs as he stood right in front of her. She could see his muscles tensing and flexing beneath his slacks.

A bright plaid shirt covered his chest, but the open vee of its collar revealed smooth dark skin, drawing her gaze upward to see a crooked grin and black eyes that glimmered with amusement.

"Do I pass?" He spoke with wry humor. "Do you like what you see?"

She would have been affronted except that she knew he had perused her just as thoroughly.

"You'll do." She smiled. In a rare mood of playful passion, she scooted against the pillows of the couch and patted the spot beside her. He paused for a second and then sat down.

"I'm glad you think so." He cocked his head with pride.

His assurance suddenly overwhelmed Angela. Her smile faded. She was very aware that he could hurt her.

He traced a finger down her cheek but didn't make any further advances. "You see, I'm very interested in you. You're a remarkable woman."

"I'm glad you approve," she mimicked his earlier response.

He chuckled then and Angela laughed with him. The doubts faded away with their laughter, and, once again, they were staring into each other's eyes. Angela knew there was a very good reason to resist this man—but she couldn't think what it was right now.