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So here she was, a month later, anxiously awaiting their appointment. It was their last conference of the school year and she had thought of little else for two days, since she could still feel the reverberations from the last time they had touched. She had practiced what she would say a hundred times in front of the mirror. Then there was the whole scene of picking out her clothes for the day, selecting just the right dress and what to wear underneath it. Who knew if there would be another chance to see him, to meet him, to tell him how she felt and how he made her feel? She opened her sparkling green eyes and saw her reflection in the window; her auburn hair was cascading down past her shoulders, her pale yellow cotton dress was clinging to her figure, her hand was resting in the vee of her neckline; her eyes were twinkling lazily in the sunlight.
"Ahem," came the sound of a man clearing his voice. "Hello. Miss Maguire."
"Mr. Rousseau," she said absently, before putting on her warmest smile and turning around.
"Miss Maguire," said Leo the janitor. "How late are you going to be?"
"Oh, Leo," she said startled. "I have just one conference appointment left."
"I see," he said, looking down and away. "Well you're the last one. I'll check back in a bit later before I go home."
"Thanks," she replied.
When Leo moved off, she went back to her desk and made sure everything was ready. Her laptop computer was open to the correct spreadsheet and the hardcopy report freshly printed up. All she needed was the man. When she glanced at her watch, she saw that he was late, as usual. "This had better be worth it," she said under her breath with a smile.
"Beg your pardon," came a voice from the doorway, the voice she had been waiting for.
She looked up before saying anything again. It was Paul Rousseau this time.
"Hello. Come on in." she said waving him inside.
He was wearing a finely tailored dress shirt and tie over a crisp pair of slacks. He looked rushed and harried as if having been stuck in traffic.
"Sorry, I'm late," he said. "I had an important meeting with a client and it ran over. It seems like I'm always running late."
"Well, good things come to those who wait," Kimberley said, sitting behind her desk. Damn, what a stupid thing to say, she thought.
"Thanks," he said sitting beside the desk.
"Make yourself comfortable," she said. "I apologize for the poor air-conditioning. This weather has caught us all a bit short I guess."
"That's okay," he said loosening his tie and letting the gaze of his dark eyes drift down.
She became aware that her dress was clinging quite closely to her body now and as she leaned forward to hand him the progress chart, her breasts came to rest on the desk. She could feel his look penetrate the soft cotton dress and it made her heart pound.
"Well as you can see," she said, clearing her voice, "Martin has been making great progress over the past few months." She pointed out the upward progression of his test scores and numerical grades.
The father leaned forward, reviewing the chart avidly. She leaned toward him bringing their faces closer together. Their eyes met when he looked up.
"This looks very nice to me," he remarked.
"Yes, very nice," she said, her voice wavering with emotion.
"Ahem," came Leo's voice from the door. "Miss Maguire?"
"Yes, Leo," she replied, sitting up straight in her chair.
"Since it's Friday night M'am, I'll be leaving soon. If you're going to be much longer, you'll have to leave by the office doors cause I have to lock up these out here."
"Thanks, Leo. I'll just be few more minutes."
"You're the last one, M'am. Do you want me to wait for you?"
She exchanged a look with Paul.
"No, that's okay," she said nervously, her lips trembling. "We're almost finished."
"Okay, M'am. Have a good evening," Leo said, and then was gone.
Kimberley and Paul looked back to each other for what must have been a minute. His look was penetrating her defenses, not that she would put up any.
"So, ah, do you have any questions?" she asked weakly.
"No, I think this tells a pretty nice story," he replied, leaning back in his chair. "Miss Maguire, I want to tell you what a great job you've done with Martin this year. He raves about you much of the time."
"Thank you," she smiled. She noticed that that lock of hair had fallen onto his forehead. She also noticed that his temples were glistening with sweat.
"I also want to say that I've enjoyed meeting with you during the year and appreciate all your help," he went on, his eyes not leaving hers.
"Thank you again."
"Um, may I ask you a personal question?"
"Sure, anything."
"They call you Miss Maguire. Is there a prospective Mister in your life?"
She laughed. "Not in the slightest."
"Really? I'm surprised. I would think that a lovely young woman such as yourself would have tons of guys fighting over you."
She laughed again but didn't answer. So he had been thinking about me, she thought to herself. He turned away for a moment before turning back.
"Please let me know if this sounds inappropriate, but ever since we first met last fall, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind."
"What?" she asked. "What do you mean?"
"Well ever since I met you, I've been feeling like, like a schoolboy."
"That's my line!" she blurted out. "That's how I've been feeling, like a schoolboy, I mean schoolgirl."
"I know," he said reaching over to take her hand. "I confess that I've been keeping an eye out for you but figured that there was a young man in the background. Besides, you probably wouldn't be interested in someone like me, you know, divorced, damaged goods, and all that comes with it."
"Oh, no, Paul, you've got it all wrong," she protested. "I've been the giddy schoolgirl. Every time you come near me, I get goose bumps and tremble so badly that I can't think of an intelligent thing to say."
"But you always look so pretty and appealing, and, as for that business at the musical program, I really have to apologize. That was out of order."
"Paul, have you heard a thing I've said?" she asked, leaning toward him so close that she could feel his breath on her cheeks. "I've felt the same way. Sure, you're older than I am, but I've longed to meet someone who can teach me some of the ways of the world. Just because I'm a teacher doesn't mean that I can't learn something."
He sat back for a moment and stood up. What was he thinking, she asked herself. Did I say the wrong thing? He turned and walked toward the windows. She stood up behind her desk and started to move around it toward him, but he turned back shaking his head.
"I've never been very good at this," he said, holding his hands out to his sides. "In business matters, I'm very decisive, but when it comes to my personal life, I'm a mess. My divorce has only made it worse. When I meet someone or someone tries to fix me up, even if it's someone that I'm attracted to, my shy nature takes over and I get all bound up, finding all sorts of excuses for not following through."
"Would it make any difference if I told you that I'm much the same?" she asked.
He laughed with a shrug. "Well then, what a great couple we would make!"
This was not going the way she had thought earlier. All of the wonderful things she was going to say had no meaning now. But he was looking her up and down with those great dark eyes and she could feel his look caress her like a gentle set of fingertips, teasing her to a level of excitement that she had never known. It wasn't as if she had never been touched or had never had sex, but in his presence she felt almost like an innocent child and she wanted him to make her whole, to teach her the things that she had been denied so long, and she was determined not to let this moment escape, not this time.
"If it's all the same to you, Paul," she said moving slowly toward him, "I think we would make a terrific couple. Ever since we met, I've been having dreams about you, at night, during the day, wonderful dreams that linger on. I want you to make those dreams come true."
She was standing in front of him now, her hands resting lightly on his chest. He was warm to the touch, almost hot.
"It's the other way around, I think it would be you making my dreams come true," he said placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'm over forty years old, Kimberley. I've got kids and an ex-wife and every reason not to get involved with you. I'm too old to start all over from scratch again while you've got your life just ahead of you. And yet each time I see you, I feel this desire that I haven't felt in years."
"So here I am, your son's teacher, under thirty and never married, still waiting, still looking for that special man who will teach me all the things I long to learn. Sure I've had my share of boyfriends, but none of them ever made me feel the way you do by just looking at me."
"Isn't it funny?" Paul laughed. "I mean, here we are both coming up with reasons not to get involved, and yet, when I think about what I feel when I look at you, there isn't one good reason not to."
"Yes, silly isn't it?" she asked standing up on her toes to bring her face closer to his.
"Yes, it is very silly," he said tilting his head just enough to the side that he could bring his lips close to hers. "Silly, silly, silly."
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