Lust

basically beating them off with a stick, and meanwhile Adam was getting stood up by his own girlfriend. It was more than frustrating, it was humiliating. “Beth, we practically haven’t seen each other all week!”

“I know.” She lowered her voice into a sexy whisper. “Look, I promise I’ll make it up to you. This weekend we’ll-oh, wait, hold on.”

Adam waited, his annoyance mounting. In the background he could hear distant voices and the familiar melody of Beth’s laughter.

Finally: “Sorry, Ad-Mr. Powell needs to go over something with me and the sooner we get through this, the sooner I can get out of here.”

Adam made a noncommittal sound. It was better, he knew, to say nothing than to voice the bitter thoughts pounding through his brain.

“So we’re okay then?” she asked, sounding worried.

And so he gave in, as always unable to resist the sound of her voice.

“Of course we’re okay. Go show him how brilliant you are.”

“Thanks!” she chirped. “Talk to you tonight.”

“Love you,” he told her.

But she’d already hung up.

Adam sighed and stuffed the phone into his backpack. Now what?

He supposed he could go home and sulk, have dinner with his mother-or, more likely, order a pizza with the guilt money his mother had left before leaving on some date with the flavor of the week. Watch TV, wait for a phone call that might never come.

Or…

Kane was once again stretched out in the water, letting the jets pummel his upper back and lazily tipping the last few drops of his drink into his mouth. Harper, looking-he had to admit-totally hot, was flicking water on a squealing Miranda.

And Kaia was sporting a barely-there white bikini, which, set off against her perfect tan, made her look like a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model. She floated against the side of the Jacuzzi, her chest to the wall and her chin propped up over the edge on her delicate, slender arms. Her hair fanned out behind her, floating atop the water like a cloud of India ink. She was staring right at him.

And that was definitely what his mother’s trashy romance novels dubbed a “come hither” smile.

Enough was enough. Adam began peeling off his clothes, hoping he wouldn’t have to take too much shit for the cartoon hearts that decorated his boxers (last year’s Valentine’s Day gift from Beth). He could already imagine how good that water was going to feel as he slid in, right between Harper and Kaia.

So, yeah, he’d been stood up-but was he supposed to complain about getting to spend the evening surrounded by beautiful half-naked women?

Maybe the whole thing was, in the end, for the best.

A hot tub, after all, is a terrible thing to waste.

“Sorry about that,” Beth said, snapping the phone shut and slipping it back into her bag. She turned back to the table, where a pile of old Haven Gazettes lay haphazardly in front of her, all flipped open to the articles she had deemed the best-and worst-of the lot. They were conducting a systematic investigation of everything that was right and wrong about the school paper, and at the rate things were going, it was going to take all night.

“I hope I’m not keeping you from something important,” Mr. Powell told her, looking concerned.

He looked so-dashing was the only word for it-when he was concerned. Who knew that there were real-life British people who looked like they came out of a Jane Austen novel? Or, more accurately, a Jude Law-Christian Bale Hollywood remake of a Jane Austen novel. But here he was, sitting only a couple of feet away, poring through the old newspapers along with her, actually listening when she talked, actually seeming to care what she had to say. Not that it was easy for her to make much sense, not when she couldn’t take her eyes off the curly brown lock of hair that kept slipping over his left eye no matter how many times he impatiently flicked it away. She wanted to reach out and smooth his unruly curls, straighten the silk tie that was loosely knotted at a rakish angle… she just wanted to touch him and assure herself that he was real.

“What?” she asked, suddenly realizing that he had asked her something and was, apparently, waiting for a response.

“I said, if you’ve got somewhere else to be…,” he repeated.

“No, don’t worry about it,” Beth assured him quickly.

“This is the most important thing right now” She tossed one of the old editions of the paper away from her in disdain. “It’s like I’ve been saying, I really want to make this paper something. I want us to publish regularly and investigate stories and challenge people’s preconceptions-I want it to be more than just a few pieces of paper that the kids laugh at and then use as a place mat on a monthly basis. And I think that-”

“Whoa, whoa,” Powell cut in, laughing. “You’re preaching to the choir here. Aren’t I ordering us some food so we can get to work and stay at work on this thing? Trust me, you’ve sold me.”

“Sorry,” Beth said, blushing. It was easy to get carried away-she’d never had a teacher like Mr. Powell, so young and energetic and-well, she didn’t even know that they made teachers like Mr. Powell.

“I hope I’m not keeping you from something important,” she said, suddenly realizing that a guy-man-like that probably had a number of better things to do.

He laughed again and began ticking off Grace’s social limitations on his fingers. “Let’s see. I’m new in town, don’t know anyone, and from what I’ve been able to tell, tonight’s social options range from Wet T-Shirt Night at the local bar to Bingo Night at the local church.”

Beth sighed quietly in relief and tried her best not to picture Mr. Powell parading across a makeshift stage wearing only a clingy wet T-shirt and a pair of boxers. Her best was far from good enough.

“I suppose you should be very honored I’m willing to pass it all up for you,” he continued. “So, what’ll it be? Chinese? Indian? Thai?”

Beth rolled her eyes.

“You are new in town,” she scoffed. “The only place that delivers around here is Guido’s Pizza Shoppe-where the pizza’s guaranteed to come in fifteen minutes or ‘whenever the hell Guido feels like bringing it.’”

“Sounds like a real customer-friendly operation,” he said. “I’ll take it. A medium cheese should cover us, I think-do you know the number?”

“Yeah, it’s in my phone.” Beth pulled it out and made the call. “Thanks again for working with me on this, Mr. Powell,” she told him once Guido had answered and, with a surly growl, put her on hold.

“It’s just wonderful to have a student who’s so engaged,” he told her, briefly placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m here for whatever you need.”

Beth flushed with pleasure. “Thanks, Mr. Powell,” she mumbled, dipping her head and tucking her hair behind her ears.

“I should be thanking you-you’re saving me from Wet T-Shirt night, after all.” He winked at her, then turned back to their stack of work, all business once again. “Oh, and Beth?” he asked, after they’d spent a quiet moment sorting through the papers.

“Yes?” she looked up and, despite the temptation to dart her eyes around the room lest he read her expression and the embarrassing thoughts that lay behind it, met his gaze.

“It seems like we’re going to be spending a lot of time together this year, working pretty closely and all-so at least when we’re out of the classroom, why don’t you just call me Jack.”

Chapter 5

“Remind me again why I ever agree to drive you anywhere?” Adam asked, bemused, as Harper flung herself