Just Like a Man by Elizabeth Bevarly Read Free Book Online Page A

she said when he drew within speaking distance. It wasn't a greeting so much as an acknowledgment, but Michael decided not to take it personally. At least she hadn't bolted to hide behind the nearest shrubbery. "How good to see you here, taking an interest in your son's school," she added.
    She was so formal, so serious. There wasn't even a hint of casualness or whimsy in her. Had something—or someone—in her past caused her to be that way? It just wasn't natural to be that starched and pressed.
    "So how's Alex done at school this week?" he asked without preamble. Or greeting, for that matter. Hey, she started it. "Have there been any more problems since our meeting on Monday?"
    "No," she said, "Alex has been fabrication-free this week."
    "Good," Michael said. "Hopefully, that will be the end of it, then."
    She hesitated for a moment, clearly giving much thought to something, then began, "Actually, Mr. Sawyer—"
    "Call me Michael, please," he interjected, trying to alleviate her oppressive air of correctness because it was threatening to wrap around him, too. He really didn't want to get formal with this woman. He hadn't been formal for years, and he'd been very happy.
    But Hannah only continued where she left off. "I'm not sure the problem has been solved." And then, with extra coolness, she added, "Mr. Sawyer." Just so Michael would know where he stood with her. Which was ironic, since he actually felt like he was flat on his back. If anything, she was the one letting him know where she stood with him. Specifically, with the heel of her shoe over his esophagus.
    Gee, this conversation really wasn't going as well as he'd initially hoped. He'd been thinking he'd walk over and strike up a harmless conversation with Hannah about Alex, then gradually move the subject matter into her work at the school, then ask what had gotten her interested in education in the first place, then follow that with a polite query into her background, and then segue logically into an invitation to meet him at a cheesy hotel later for hours and hours of unbridled sex. But, gosh, that unbridled sex was starting to look kind of unlikely. Where could he have gone wrong?
    And what was the question again?
    Oh, right. Alex hadn't been lying. What was up with that?
    "But if he hasn't said anything inappropriate…" Michael continued, stepping forward, dipping his head toward hers because he wanted to lower his voice for the rest of this conversation. But Hannah immediately stepped back, a gesture he couldn't help noting. Jeez, it wasn't like he was stalking her. He hadn't done that for a good five, ten minutes, at least. So he decided to say nothing further, and hope maybe she'd conclude the conversation right there and move on to some other unsuspecting parent. Then, after she'd cooled off a bit, he could approach her again about that unbridled sex.
    No such potluck.
    "After you and Alex left Monday, Mr. Sawyer," she said, "it occurred to me that you never really did acknowledge the fact that your son lies." Her voice was lower, too, now, but not as low as his. Maybe she'd backed away, Michael thought, but she wasn't going to back down.
    "Michael," he automatically corrected her again. Not that he knew why he bothered. She obviously didn't want to call him that, and there was no reason for him to encourage a familiarity in their relationship that wasn't there. For some reason, though, it bothered him to be called Mr. Sawyer by her. Probably because it bothered him so much to call her Ms. Frost.
    "And I couldn't help wondering why you didn't," she added when he offered nothing in response. "Especially since Alex obviously does tell lies. You can't possibly argue with me on that score."
    "I'd rather not argue with you on any score, Ms. Frost," Michael told her, telling himself he was
not
arguing with her by saying that. Especially since what he really wanted to do with her was get her alone in a cheesy hotel room for hours and hours of—
    "Excuse