Austensibly Ordinary by Alyssa Goodnight Page A

just grow up and get on with things. Then again, maybe this was my moment of truth, my chance to show Ethan what lurked behind my teaching glasses and teasing grin.
    Friday’s class discussion of Emma had touched on this very topic: how one person’s preconceptions about another can blind them to the reality. I’d considered it an elegant little tease, hinting at the undercurrents of my own personality. I seriously doubt any of my students picked up on it.
    â€œYou all may only see a high school English teacher, but what don’t you see? For all you know, I’m a millionaire with an altruistic love of the classics.” I leaned my rear against the front of my desk facing the smirks and twitters, lifting my eyebrows in question, daring them to look closer. “An undercover narcotics officer . . . a jewel thief . . . a government operative. I could be anything with the cover of a high school English teacher, using my position on the faculty, spying for personal gain.”
    â€œSeems like the irritations would far outweigh any potential benefits,” Alex murmured sardonically.
    â€œOh, it definitely seems that way. But perhaps that’s what makes me the perfect candidate. Beyond reproach, above suspicion,” I said, walking around the side of my desk. A mystery,” I said, meeting his eyes with a smile and relishing everything the word implied.
    The bell rang then, with impeccable timing, and I imagined they all trailed out wondering about me and my secret life. Deluded, I know. Still, I knew, and that was plenty.
    With the recent developments in the found-object department, my status as a woman of mystery was now spot-on. Beyond my evening in character, I was now on the verge of something pivotal, the scope of which, for the time being, remained boundless and undefined. It made me wonder now about the man standing in front of me, ready to bandy words.
    Maybe Ethan was the answer. Heck, maybe he had an undercurrent of his own—the Will Schuester of Travis Oaks High, minus the singing. (Or maybe not minus the singing—what the heck did I know?) He definitely wasn’t above keeping secrets, and he was “in plain sight” on a regular basis. I’d give it some thought—I wanted a bit longer to think things through on my own first. If I pulled Ethan in now, I’d be relegated to the position of sidekick, and I wasn’t about to put up with that.
    â€œCate . . . ?” By the time my eyes focused in on Ethan, I’m sure he’d seen a schizophrenic play of emotions run across my face. I smiled, smoothing them all out.
    â€œYes. Ready for Scrabble.” I reached behind me for the box I kept on the little table just inside the door. “How about we play outside?” I didn’t want to take any chances with all the secrets I now had packed into this tiny apartment.
    â€œSounds good,” he agreed companionably. Ethan was always in a winning mood on Scrabble day. I grabbed a sweater from the hook by the door and followed him down to certain defeat.
    By the time I swung back in the door, it was 7:30. Mom had made Philly cheesesteak sandwiches, and Ethan had devoured every last bit she’d forced upon him. I needed to get on with the total transformation, and it was imperative that I not forget to brush my teeth. Sautéed pepper and onion breath didn’t really send out the vibe I was going for.
    Dress first. Part of me was excited just to slip into my make-believe phone booth again, and the rest was totally psyched to be zipped into that dress, for real this time. It inspired confidence and took sexiness to a whole different level. The same was true of the heels, but they could wait.
    I’d just finished smoothing the fabric over my curves when I heard the knock. Mom probably just wanted to double-check that Ethan and I weren’t engaged . . . or better yet, engaged in something frisky. I slipped around the sofa, tying on the