let's talk about what students you think might be capable of all this."
"I can't imagine any of them doing these things," she replied.
"You're going to have to do better than that, Tamara."
She liked the way her name sounded falling from his lips, like a swatch of silk being drawn across soft skin. But the look on his face was anything but silky. He wanted answers and it was clear from his facial expression that he was short on patience.
"Just tell me the first names that pop into your head when you think of potential suspects. I'd like to get this whole mess cleared up as soon as possible."
"And I assure you my only goal is to help you do just that," she replied with a calmness that was in direct contrast to his sharp tone.
He leaned back in the chair and reached for his coffee cup. He sipped his coffee, his dark gaze not leaving hers. "I'm sorry if I seem brusque or impatient: I've got a lot on my plate at the moment and the last thing this town needs is some crazed teenager acting like an enraged bear."
She realized then that what she'd thought were brackets of grimness around his mouth was probably exhaustion. "Terry Black. He's a difficult student, a bully with a bad temper and comes from a very dysfunctional family."
Clay wrote the name down in his pad, then looked at her again expectantly. She frowned thoughtfully, thinking of the students she taught in the summer school classes and the adults she taught at night.
She rubbed her hand across her forehead, once again staring at the painting just above where Clay sat. "There's also Benjamin Smith, he's in my adult class and I'm not sure why he's taking the class. He's a jerk and doesn't seem to be the least bit interested in Native American culture, but he shows up for class every Tuesday and Thursday night."
"Has he ever shown a personal interest in you?"
"Benjamin Smith shows an interest in anyone who is female. He fancies himself something of a ladies' man and he's good-looking enough, but he's so obnoxious that it plays against him."
Again he wrote the name down, then looked back at her. "Anyone else that sets off any kind of warning bells?"
She frowned thoughtfully. "Not off the top of my head, but let me think for a moment." She stood and grabbed her coffee cup. "I'm going to freshen up my coffee, would you like some more?"
"No, I'm fine."
She escaped into the kitchen, her thoughts in turmoil. She didn't want to believe that one of her students was capable of vandalism and the senseless death of an innocent deer, but she had to face the reality that it was the only thing that made a horrible kind of sense.
It wasn't just the pain of recognizing that somebody close to her was capable of terrible things, it was also Clay that had her stomach tied in knots.
No matter how tightly he pressed his sensual lips together, she wondered what they'd feel like against her own. No matter how tense he held his shoulders, she wondered if the flesh that covered those taut muscles would be warm and firm beneath her fingertips?
He made her aware of herself as a female. When those black eyes of his held her gaze she felt a tightening in her nipples, a liquid warmth sweep though her as her pulse raced just a little too quickly.
Instead of refilling her coffee cup, she got a glass of ice and filled it with water. Maybe the iced liquid would stop the heat that seemed to suffuse her body. Maybe the chill of the drink would halt the physical reaction she felt whenever he was near.
When she returned to the living room he stood looking at the painting on the wall that had drawn her attention earlier.
He turned as she approached. "The legend of the bear," he observed.
"The legend intrigues me on several different levels," she explained. "Which is one of the reasons I teach it."
"What do you find intriguing about it?" He stood in front of the chair where she had been sitting, far too close to where she stood.
She stepped backward and sat on the sofa, relieved to have just
"I can't imagine any of them doing these things," she replied.
"You're going to have to do better than that, Tamara."
She liked the way her name sounded falling from his lips, like a swatch of silk being drawn across soft skin. But the look on his face was anything but silky. He wanted answers and it was clear from his facial expression that he was short on patience.
"Just tell me the first names that pop into your head when you think of potential suspects. I'd like to get this whole mess cleared up as soon as possible."
"And I assure you my only goal is to help you do just that," she replied with a calmness that was in direct contrast to his sharp tone.
He leaned back in the chair and reached for his coffee cup. He sipped his coffee, his dark gaze not leaving hers. "I'm sorry if I seem brusque or impatient: I've got a lot on my plate at the moment and the last thing this town needs is some crazed teenager acting like an enraged bear."
She realized then that what she'd thought were brackets of grimness around his mouth was probably exhaustion. "Terry Black. He's a difficult student, a bully with a bad temper and comes from a very dysfunctional family."
Clay wrote the name down in his pad, then looked at her again expectantly. She frowned thoughtfully, thinking of the students she taught in the summer school classes and the adults she taught at night.
She rubbed her hand across her forehead, once again staring at the painting just above where Clay sat. "There's also Benjamin Smith, he's in my adult class and I'm not sure why he's taking the class. He's a jerk and doesn't seem to be the least bit interested in Native American culture, but he shows up for class every Tuesday and Thursday night."
"Has he ever shown a personal interest in you?"
"Benjamin Smith shows an interest in anyone who is female. He fancies himself something of a ladies' man and he's good-looking enough, but he's so obnoxious that it plays against him."
Again he wrote the name down, then looked back at her. "Anyone else that sets off any kind of warning bells?"
She frowned thoughtfully. "Not off the top of my head, but let me think for a moment." She stood and grabbed her coffee cup. "I'm going to freshen up my coffee, would you like some more?"
"No, I'm fine."
She escaped into the kitchen, her thoughts in turmoil. She didn't want to believe that one of her students was capable of vandalism and the senseless death of an innocent deer, but she had to face the reality that it was the only thing that made a horrible kind of sense.
It wasn't just the pain of recognizing that somebody close to her was capable of terrible things, it was also Clay that had her stomach tied in knots.
No matter how tightly he pressed his sensual lips together, she wondered what they'd feel like against her own. No matter how tense he held his shoulders, she wondered if the flesh that covered those taut muscles would be warm and firm beneath her fingertips?
He made her aware of herself as a female. When those black eyes of his held her gaze she felt a tightening in her nipples, a liquid warmth sweep though her as her pulse raced just a little too quickly.
Instead of refilling her coffee cup, she got a glass of ice and filled it with water. Maybe the iced liquid would stop the heat that seemed to suffuse her body. Maybe the chill of the drink would halt the physical reaction she felt whenever he was near.
When she returned to the living room he stood looking at the painting on the wall that had drawn her attention earlier.
He turned as she approached. "The legend of the bear," he observed.
"The legend intrigues me on several different levels," she explained. "Which is one of the reasons I teach it."
"What do you find intriguing about it?" He stood in front of the chair where she had been sitting, far too close to where she stood.
She stepped backward and sat on the sofa, relieved to have just
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