Warrior In Her Bed. Cathleen Galitz

he said, purposely ignoring her earlier invitation to call her by her first name, “of how you address your supervisors. I might not have been the person who hired you, but let me assure you, I most certainly have the power to fire you if I see fit.”

      With that he turned his back on her, leaving the lady with yet another crucial bit of information to solder into the stained-glass mosaic that was destined to interlock his complicated life with hers.

      Two

      Having recently given up a much better paying position in St. Louis with the understanding that she could come back anytime she wanted, Annie was sorely tempted to gather up her things and do one Mr. John Lonebear a gigantic favor by quitting right then and there. It certainly wasn’t the money that kept her from walking. The pittance she was making as an adjunct faculty member at Dream Catchers High was hardly enough to buy groceries and pay the phone bill. Luckily, her friend Jewell, whose house she was sitting while she was away at summer school working on her master’s degree, insisted on taking care of the utilities. Although Jewell maintained that Annie was really doing her a good turn, she was the one who felt truly indebted.

      No, the necessity of a steady income was not the reason Annie stubbornly refused to cut her losses on this particularly lovely day the first week in June and call it quits. A practical sort, she had almost a whole year’s salary in reserve while she figured out what it was she wanted to do with the rest of her life. Her decision to stick it out at Dream Catchers had more to do with wanting to finish the ambitious mural that she had designed, was in the process of constructing, and ultimately planned to dedicate to the school that John Lonebear so presumptuously claimed as his own. Unless there was no other option available to her, Annie Wainwright liked to finish what she started. There was also the matter of a pleading look in Crimson Dawn’s eyes when she had tentatively approached Annie seeking approval and advice. And last but not least, she suspected that there was a certain amount of spite involved in her decision not to let anyone goad her into making a decision that she wasn’t good and ready to make on her own.

      No matter how self-important he thought he might be.

      No matter how undeniably sexy he was.

      Having professionally advised any number of clients that geographic changes did little to address the pain that one carried deep inside, Annie knew it was futile to try to outrun one’s problems. Still, as she bumped along the washboard road leading to her friend’s cozy log cabin, she couldn’t help but feel this was the perfect place for mending broken hearts and healing wounded spirits. Nestled at the base of the Wind River Mountains, Jewell’s isolated home boasted a view of the river that carried the same name as the mountain range that cast its shadow over the surrounding countryside. Though not nearly as famous as its sister, the Tetons, the Winds were just as magnificent in their own right. The fact that they were relatively undiscovered by tourists made them all the more attractive to someone looking for respite from big-city woes.

      Watching the sun slowly slide into place like a diamond being positioned into its proper setting in a crown of sheer granite was enough to make Annie forget her troubles for a moment and melt into a landscape that, with the exception of the dust rising from behind her car, seemed virtually unchanged since the dawn of time. The fact that the sun rose and set predictably every day behind this mountain did not make the spectacle any less miraculous. Taking time to enjoy such pleasures was yet another reason Annie wanted to hang around a while longer—at least until the end of summer when monetary matters would dictate the choices that would likely have to be made out of necessity.

      For right now it was enough to simply park her dusty little blue sports coupe beside the cabin and take a seat on the porch swing where an unrestricted view of the painted sky made Annie wish she could somehow capture those vivid colors in glass. She wanted to include every shade of that incredible sky in the life circle that was to be the backdrop of her own masterpiece. The peaceful scene featured a tepee with a family gathered in front of a gentle campfire. Rotating in the background were both the seasons and the time of day. Six feet in diameter, the impressive panorama was held together by thin metal strips woven by design to look like a dream catcher, symbolic of the school that bore its name.

      The fact that Annie found herself wondering what the antagonistic Mr. Lonebear would think of her tribute to his culture made her cross with herself for even remotely caring what that big bully thought. It made her furious that the mere remembrance of his touch sent another frisson of heat sizzling through her body, conjuring up X-rated images that were completely out of character for someone of her usual, refined sensibilities.

      Hearing the phone ring, she hopped off the porch swing, stepped inside the front door and reached for the sound of a friendly voice. Though the solitude of this place was far more peaceful than that of her old apartment, which had been located on a busy downtown street, it also became oppressive at times, as well. Grateful to hear Jewell’s warm, familiar greeting, Annie didn’t hesitate to tell her old friend all about the “beast” who had accosted her earlier in the day.

      “Johnny?” Jewell asked, sounding incredulous. “As much as I hate to question your judgment, he’s never been anything but nice to me and professional in every respect. In fact, the entire staff is as devoted to him as the student body is. I can’t imagine what you could have possibly done to have gotten off on the wrong foot with him.”

      Indignation rose like bile in Annie’s throat at the implication that she was somehow at fault for the rude behavior to which she’d been subjected earlier in the day.

      “Johnny?” she mimicked, recalling the formality that he had demanded of her. It seemed she was the only one not at liberty to call the man by his more familiar moniker. In the future Annie vowed to address him as sir and leave it at that.

      “I was given the definite impression that your fellow teachers at Dream Catchers are in the habit of addressing one another by their last names,” she said stiffly and added softly under her breath, “And saluting their superior officers.”

      “Only in front of students,” Jewell told her, choosing to ignore her friend’s mumbled jab. “Coming from the unruly environment you just left, I’d think you’d prefer a more structured environment. Our teachers sure do. The truth of the matter is that most of the kids do, too. So many of them have no rules at home to speak of, and school provides them a safe haven.”

      Even though Annie could believe it, she wasn’t inclined to agree at the moment. Not when doing so would cast the villainous Mr. Lonebear in an angelic light. Cradling the phone between her shoulder and cheek, she opened the refrigerator door, took out a pitcher of lemonade and grudgingly encouraged her friend to enlighten her further.

      “Go on,” she muttered, wrestling with a tray of ice cubes that had shrunk to strange powdery shapes. “I’m listening.”

      “Maybe you just caught him on an off day, Annie. Or maybe his reaction had something to do with him not hiring you personally, although he’s never struck me as the type to care about protocol when it comes to filling positions with qualified people. I do know that he was in Washington lobbying during the week you were interviewed. There’s always the possibility that he didn’t get the backing he was seeking, and that’s what put him in such an ill humor, though I seriously doubt it. The man is a genius at procuring funding—and in being instrumental in making Dream Catchers High one of the most successful magnet schools in the country.”

      The pride in Jewell’s voice was unmistakable.

      “Gosh,” Annie muttered, unable to keep the skepticism from her voice. “He sounds like a veritable saint.”

      “Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” Jewell said, laughing. “Just ask some of the elders to reminisce if you get the opportunity, and they’ll be happy to wax on and on about their favorite son’s misspent youth. Affectionately, of course, and with obvious admiration for what he’s overcome.”

      “Misspent youth?” Annie prodded, curious despite herself.

      “It seems Johnny Lonebear was every girl’s bad-boy heartthrob back in high school. They say he packed an attitude as big as