Page 4 of XOXO, Valentina

He took the seat across from my desk, leaned back, and spread his large hands over the arms of the chair. While his gaze roamed around my office, I feasted my eyes on him. He wore a pale-blue dress shirt with a subtle check, which was rolled up at the sleeves to reveal tanned forearms. A leather bracelet adorned his left wrist, and rings decorated several of his fingers. The fourth finger on his left hand was noticeably bare.

I didn’t care for jewelry on men, but the style suited Mr. Morales. The flash of silver on his hands and the aged leather at his wrists conjured up a whole slew of fantasies. My mind drifted to the bad boy of romance—the motorcycle club leaders, the pirates of the high seas, the unscrupulous rogues.

“I like your artwork,” he said, turning in the chair to look at the framed drawings on the walls.

His words flowed in a uniquely Latin rhythm, conjuring up hot summer nights and flouncy-hemmed dresses. He leaned forward and looked at the framed photograph of Shane on my desk.

“Is that your son?”

Being alone with Mr. Morales made my blood heat and my tongue tie in knots. I gathered my composure and nodded at Shane’s school picture, which showed off his metallic smile. Shane had begged me not to buy it, but I thought it was cute. And I’d paid a lot of money for those braces, so I might as well immortalize them.

“I can’t believe you have a teenager,” Mr. Morales said. “You look so young.”

I was young for my position, but I’d earned it. My predecessor had held the job for over twenty years, and she was a tough act to follow. I’d spent the last two years proving my worth, so those words coming from anyone else’s mouth would have set my teeth on edge. But everything Mr. Morales said sounded enchanting thanks to his sexy accent.

“I’m older than I look,” I said, stacking his file on my desk.

His chin dipped toward my half-eaten pack of crackers. “I hope that’s not your lunch.”

I pushed the crackers aside. “Tomorrow is shopping day.”

His eyebrows slanted in disapproval, and my mind shot straight into Fantasyland. Disapproving Mr. Morales was even sexier than smiling Mr. Morales. I imagined him hovering over me, promising to punish me for my irreverent lunch. Licking crumbs off the corner of my mouth and sliding his tongue along my lips, he would feast on me, devouring me inch by inch.

Good grief! I really must find a new genre. Too much erotica had warped my brain.

I flipped open his file. “Do you know why I called you into my office today, Mr. Morales?”

He sat back in his chair and clasped his hands in his lap. “You can call me Joey.”

I’d heard some of the other teachers calling him Joey, but I’d always thought of him as Mr. Morales—or Fernando. According to his file, he was Fernando Morales, age twenty-seven, originally from Tamarindo, Costa Rica.

“Why Joey?” I asked. “It’s nothing like Fernando.”

“It’s fromFriends.” He crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a chin nod. His entire demeanor changed as he flashed a flirty grin. “How you doin’?” he asked in a perfect New York accent.

My brain knew he was only doing an impersonation of the flirtatious Joey Tribbiani fromFriends, but my belly still flipped. And other parts of me tingled in anticipation at the prospect of Mr. Morales flirting with me.

I halted my imagination before it could conjure any more embarrassing fantasies. I needed to get back on track. Time to stop letting him affect me. Time to end the small talk and get down to business.

My intercom buzzed, and Mr. Collins’s voice crackled through the air. “Mrs. Salinger? Can you come to the main office?”

I pursed my lips and stabbed the call button. “I’m in the middle of something, Mr. Collins.”

Flipping the pages in the file, I came to the recommendation letters from his former employers in Atlanta, Georgia, who’d hated to lose him. I would give him a good reference, of course. It would be too embarrassing not to.

“Did someone make that for you?”

His voice penetrated my concentration. “What?”

“The book cover,” he said.

My hand shot out to cover the quilted jacket. Even though he couldn’t see the half-naked lumberjack hidden under the book cover, I felt exposed. I should have tucked the book away before he came into my office.

“They sell them at Hyperbole’s Bookshop,” I said.

“My sister Ava would love it.” He leaned forward to better examine the quilted pattern, which looked like it belonged in my grandmother’s bedroom and perfectly disguised the sexy cover of the book. “She likes to read porno books,” he said. “But she doesn’t want my mom to find out.”

My heart leaped into my throat.Porno books.What would Mr. Morales think if he knew what I liked to read?

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