the living room where it's more comfortable, then I'll explain." She grabbed her coffee cup and gestured for him to do the same.
She was intensely aware of him just behind her as she went into the living room. It had been a shock to see him. She'd expected an officer, but she hadn't expected Clay.
When those dark eyes of his focused on her so intently, it was difficult for her to concentrate. She was again aware of the hint of something dangerous, yet delicious, simmering just beneath his surface.
Her kitchen table had been too small to sit opposite him. She needed some space between herself and him.
In the living room she sat on the chair, leaving the sofa to him. She didn't speak until he'd sank down onto the cushion, his cup of coffee in hand.
"I think it's very possible that one of my students is playing a prank of sorts," she said.
"The destruction in your classroom goes beyond a simple prank." He leaned forward and set his coffee on a coaster on the coffee table.
"Yes, but if it is one of my students, you have to remember they're teenagers and sometimes they don't have a handle on the area of boundaries."
"What makes you think this might be the work of one of your students?"
She leaned back in her chair, hoping the additional inches of distance from him would make her focus on the conversation at hand. She tried not to focus on the length of his dark lashes, the broadness of his chest, and the scent that clung to him that reminded her of an untamed forest coupled with the bold scent of clean male.
"Part of what I teach my students are Native legends, like how the Milky Way came to be, why the opossum's tail is bare, how the earth got fire. You know, the kinds of legends we grew up on. Anyway, the past week, I've been teaching a more obscure legend … the legend of the bear."
"Legend of the bear?" He frowned thoughtfully. "I'm not sure I'm familiar with that one."
"There are several legends involving bears, but this particular one is about a lovesick bear. One day in the forest the bear sees a lovely Native maiden and he falls in love with her. For the next two full moons, the bear wreaks havoc on the village, killing their animals, terrorizing their children and scoring the trees that surrounded the area."
"And so the moral of this story is love makes men savage beasts?" Clay asked dryly.
Tamara smiled. "No, that isn't the moral of the story. You have to hear the rest of it before you realize the moral."
"Then please continue," he said.
She nodded. "Finally the hear gets the maiden alone and he tells her of his love for her, that for the past two moons he's been showing her his strength, his prowess. He tells her he wants to claim her as his mate, but the Native maiden tells him no, that hears are quick to anger and savage when roused. The bear assures her that he can overcome these innate characteristics, that with her he will be as gentle as a lamb, as good-natured as a rabbit. Still, the maiden said no and the bear got so angry he killed the maiden. As she is dying she asks him why and he tells her that despite his intentions to the contrary, it's his nature."
"And so the moral of the story is you can't change the nature of the beast."
"You can't change the nature of anything. We are what we are." She averted her gaze from Clay and stared at one of her own paintings on the wall just behind him. It was about the legend of the bear come alive, in vivid colors and broad strokes. The painting showed a bear hiding behind a tree, watching a Native maiden washing in a stream. "It would be a stretch of coincidence not to think that my teaching that particular legend in the past week and these two incidences happening now are related."
"I think you're right, it's got to be related," he agreed. His onyx eyes gave nothing away as he reached into his pocket and drew out a pad and pen. "I assume you provided the officers at the scene at the school a list of the names of your students?" She nodded.
"Well, now
She was intensely aware of him just behind her as she went into the living room. It had been a shock to see him. She'd expected an officer, but she hadn't expected Clay.
When those dark eyes of his focused on her so intently, it was difficult for her to concentrate. She was again aware of the hint of something dangerous, yet delicious, simmering just beneath his surface.
Her kitchen table had been too small to sit opposite him. She needed some space between herself and him.
In the living room she sat on the chair, leaving the sofa to him. She didn't speak until he'd sank down onto the cushion, his cup of coffee in hand.
"I think it's very possible that one of my students is playing a prank of sorts," she said.
"The destruction in your classroom goes beyond a simple prank." He leaned forward and set his coffee on a coaster on the coffee table.
"Yes, but if it is one of my students, you have to remember they're teenagers and sometimes they don't have a handle on the area of boundaries."
"What makes you think this might be the work of one of your students?"
She leaned back in her chair, hoping the additional inches of distance from him would make her focus on the conversation at hand. She tried not to focus on the length of his dark lashes, the broadness of his chest, and the scent that clung to him that reminded her of an untamed forest coupled with the bold scent of clean male.
"Part of what I teach my students are Native legends, like how the Milky Way came to be, why the opossum's tail is bare, how the earth got fire. You know, the kinds of legends we grew up on. Anyway, the past week, I've been teaching a more obscure legend … the legend of the bear."
"Legend of the bear?" He frowned thoughtfully. "I'm not sure I'm familiar with that one."
"There are several legends involving bears, but this particular one is about a lovesick bear. One day in the forest the bear sees a lovely Native maiden and he falls in love with her. For the next two full moons, the bear wreaks havoc on the village, killing their animals, terrorizing their children and scoring the trees that surrounded the area."
"And so the moral of this story is love makes men savage beasts?" Clay asked dryly.
Tamara smiled. "No, that isn't the moral of the story. You have to hear the rest of it before you realize the moral."
"Then please continue," he said.
She nodded. "Finally the hear gets the maiden alone and he tells her of his love for her, that for the past two moons he's been showing her his strength, his prowess. He tells her he wants to claim her as his mate, but the Native maiden tells him no, that hears are quick to anger and savage when roused. The bear assures her that he can overcome these innate characteristics, that with her he will be as gentle as a lamb, as good-natured as a rabbit. Still, the maiden said no and the bear got so angry he killed the maiden. As she is dying she asks him why and he tells her that despite his intentions to the contrary, it's his nature."
"And so the moral of the story is you can't change the nature of the beast."
"You can't change the nature of anything. We are what we are." She averted her gaze from Clay and stared at one of her own paintings on the wall just behind him. It was about the legend of the bear come alive, in vivid colors and broad strokes. The painting showed a bear hiding behind a tree, watching a Native maiden washing in a stream. "It would be a stretch of coincidence not to think that my teaching that particular legend in the past week and these two incidences happening now are related."
"I think you're right, it's got to be related," he agreed. His onyx eyes gave nothing away as he reached into his pocket and drew out a pad and pen. "I assume you provided the officers at the scene at the school a list of the names of your students?" She nodded.
"Well, now
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