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  “Using earthworms to compost,” he interrupted.

  Melanie paused to look at him, startled by his knowledge. “Yes. Exactly. Most people don’t know that. The math classes will use the worms to explain exponential growth.”

  “Worms will teach kids how to calculate exponential growth? How exactly?” he asked. Demanded, actually.

  Aha! There was a brief flash of interest! Melanie leaned forward, really getting into her subject. “We buy one thousand earth worms. If we feed them properly and keep them in the right kind of housing that allows them to move through the soil easily, the earthworms will reproduce. Each earthworm lays about 20 eggs at a time, which take approximately three to five months to hatch, depending on the conditions. If you have one thousand worms, that’s…”

  He chuckled softly. “Quite a lot of earthworms.”

  She couldn’t stop the reciprocating grin. “Yes. It’s a lot of earthworms. But think of the ick factor! Kids in elementary school love gross things! Teaching kids how to do math with worms? They’ll love it!”

  He laughed outright at that. “Yes, I can imagine the ick factor could be a motivating force.”

  Melanie warmed to her subject now. “Plus, there’s the science in all of this. Once we get the program running, the science teachers help the kids to experiment on growing the tomato plants in the soil they’ve created through vermiculture versus the soil they buy at the hardware store versus the composted materials from the cafeteria. Math is important too. If they sell the tomato plants to the parents and the neighbors around the school, what is the profit margin? What could they do better? The English classes could write news articles about the progress of the tomato plants, the sales, the worms, the composting…it’s a school wide effort. Eventually, I’d like to grow a butterfly garden and show the kids how butterflies are important to the environment, allowing us to discuss the plants we need to grow the butterflies, and…”

  He smiled, leaning back in his chair. “It sounds fascinating. So, why are you here?”

  This was always the most difficult part. Goodness, she hated asking for money! She hated feeling like a beggar! Taking a deep breath, her muscles tensed and she looked at his nose. She’d found that looking at a person’s nose while being rejected was easier than looking into their eyes. “We’re looking for money to build the raised beds and the composting bins.” Too late, she glanced at his eyes!

  His eyebrows went up. She smiled back at him, thinking about how she’d love to shave off those eyebrows. He wouldn’t be raising them then, now would he?!

  Completely off topic, she reminded herself.

  He flipped through the pages of her presentation, obviously playing for time. When he looked up, his eyes gave nothing away. “You talk about greenhouses and experimenting with temperature and condensation.”

  That stopped her cold. “How did you…?’

  He lifted the presentation slightly. “I read through the pages, Ms. Larsden. It’s all in here.”

  She glanced down at the folder, stunned. “You…read it? While we were sitting here? But…” she trailed off, looking into his eyes and those damnable eyebrows lifted as he waited for her to finish. “You only skimmed the text, Mr. Hughes,” she declared.

  He laughed again. “I read through every scintillating detail, Ms. Larsden. The raised beds will be built by the parents in the summer, before school starts. The composting bins will be right next to the raised beds. The plan is to plant one hundred tomato plants in April or May, depending on the weather. But over the winter, the students will start to compost, using the leaves from the fall as the base, and adding in the leftover food from the cafeteria.”

  “How did you…?”

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What if you had greenhouses earlier? You could start the tomato plants as soon as the students start school in September. They could begin documenting the growth over the winter months, comparing the growth rates to those in the spring after the composted soil is created and the plants are out in the air. There’s also the issue of hardening for the plants. That’s another science project for the kids and could be connected to psychology and real life.”

  She stared for a long moment, frozen. Greenhouses now? Comparison later? And adding in a psychology component? It was genius! But then reality came flooding back. Reality was such a downer, she thought. “We won’t have the money for the greenhouses by the beginning of the school year. We’re just…”

  “You will if I donate the money,” he interrupted.

  Her jaw practically hit her lap. He was going to buy the kids a greenhouse? “Umm…well, we don’t…”

  He listed on his fingers. “You need two hundred dollars for the materials to build the raised beds. More for the soil. The composting bins are five hundred dollars each and you need two of them. Right there, that’s about two thousand dollars.”

  “Yes, but…” she had only collected three hundred dollars in donations thus far and school was scheduled to start in four weeks. They couldn’t raise that much money by then.

  “I’ll donate the money for all of it, plus the greenhouses. In addition, I’ll add in the cost of the worms and even start a mentoring program with my company. I can encourage my employees to donate their time and expertise to the project. Will that help?”

  She was silent for a long moment, stunned by his offer. Then she nodded. “Yes! Yes, that would be wonderful!” she gasped. Her boss, the principal of the elementary school was fully on board with the project, as long as Melanie could find companies to donate the funding. And she couldn’t go to the parents for donations, because most couldn’t afford additional school costs. The school wasn’t located in one of the more affluent neighborhoods. “That’s incredibly generous of you.”

  He leaned forward. “I want something in return though.”

  Her heart plummeted. There was always a catch.

  He smiled and Melanie knew that she wasn’t going to like whatever he said next. “I want you to have dinner with me tonight.”

  Melanie swallowed. “Dinner?”

  “Just dinner. No expectations beyond a meal. I’m not expecting sex. Just the pleasure of your company.”

  Could she believe him?

  Pulling herself together, she sat back, straightening her spine. “Mr. Hughes, I’m a fifth grade elementary school teacher.”

  He smiled faintly before he asked, “Elementary school teachers don’t eat?”

  A chuckle snuck up on her, but she looked away for a moment to school her expression before looking him directly in the eye. “I’m not for sale.”

  He smiled and it was the first sincere smile she’d seen from him. It wasn’t mocking or teasing. It was a nice, genuine smile. And was there a bit of admiration mixed in with the sincerity?

  “I respect that. I’d really like to take you to dinner and get to know you a little better.” He gestured with the folder in his hand. “In fact, to make it easier for you to decide, I’ll donate the money for the project simply because it’s a brilliant idea. The money isn’t contingent on you having dinner with me. Does that make my invitation more palatable?”

  His assurance really did make her feel better. “Yes,” she finally replied.

  “Yes, the invitation is better? Or yes, you’ll have dinner with me?”

  She laughed, feeling her shoulders relax. “Yes, I would love to have dinner with you. And also, yes, I’ll take whatever donation you’d like to make towards the project. The kids at my school will appreciate every penny. Thank you.”

  “Excellent!” he said and stood up. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

  Melanie was stunned by the shock of excitement that hit her with the thought of going out to dinner with this man. She preceded him to the door, wondering if she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.

  Outside of his office, he stopped by his assistant’s desk, handing her the presentation. “Doris, draft a memo to the staff, letting them know about this project and tha
t JJH Technologies will be partnering with the school on this. Call the accounting department and tell them to send a ten thousand dollar check to Ms. Larsden.”

  Ten thousand? She gasped. “We don’t need that much!”

  “You’ll figure out how to spend it,” he replied easily. “I’ll walk you to the elevator,” he told her, putting a hand to her back again. She trembled both with the speed of what was happening as well as with the heat that flooded her system. She wanted to tell him to slow down, but the words wouldn’t come out. She was too shocked, too overwhelmed. That sense of being trapped hit her. It was as if he was a steamroller and she’d started something that she couldn’t stop.

  “Mr. Hughes,” she began, but Melanie wasn’t sure what to say.

  They arrived at the elevators and he pressed the call button. “We’re having dinner tonight. You should call me Jackson,” he teased.

  She pressed her lips together, but caught the daring look in his eyes. She didn’t want to say his name. For some reason, using his first name would cross a line that she couldn’t come back from. His name implied an intimacy she wasn’t ready for yet. Probably not ever!

  “Yes, well…”

  His laughter stopped her and she wanted to tell him to stop doing that. His amusement caused her emotions to fluctuate between anger and heated sexual awareness.

  He shifted so that his huge shoulders and dominating height hid her from the others passing by in the hallway. “You’re going to do everything possible to avoid using my name, aren’t you, Melanie?”

  She turned to look when the elevator doors opened, almost sighing with relief at the escape. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said as she stepped pointedly into the sanctuary of the elevator.

  He put a hand on the doors, keeping them from closing. “I’ll pick you up at six, Melanie. We’ll continue this discussion over dinner.”

  He stepped back. She would have leaned against the back wall of the elevator in relief, but he stood there, watching as the doors closed. And with that look, she was still trapped. Still under his power.

  When the doors finally closed, Melanie sighed with relief, sagging into the corner of the elevator. Belatedly, she looked around, worried that someone else might be witnessing her ridiculousness. Thankfully, she was alone.

  But that relief was short lived as she looked up at the security camera, and groaned as she realized that there were people watching all the time. Coming from an elementary school environment where the worst thing that happened during the day was when one of the kids stole someone else’s Twinkies, the idea of constantly being watched was intimidating.

  Chapter 2

  Jackson pulled up outside of Melanie’s tiny cottage. Looking around, he noticed that the deck needed to be redone since it sagged slightly in the middle. The roof of the house was stained from the years of rain and the acid leeching out from the overhead leaves, and there were cracks in the driveway. But on the positive side, the plants lining the front of the house looked amazing, healthy with lots of color. The porch might sag, but only someone looking for issues would notice because of the inviting rocking chairs with colorful, handmade pillows that flanked one side. There were also pots with colorful flowers on either side of the doorway, which was painted a bright, welcoming yellow.

  He knew that Melanie owned the cottage. He even knew the exact amount of her monthly mortgage payment. Jackson knew her salary and how much she’d put down for the house. Not because of any creepy stalking issue, but because her mortgage was through his father’s bank. Ms. Melanie Larsden had excellent credit, paid her bills on time, and had two credit cards, one that she used for daily expenses and one that she used only once a month, probably to ensure that it was kept active in case of an emergency.

  The lovely Ms. Melanie also put more than ten percent of her gross income into a retirement plan and gave an admirable amount of money to charity, although he suspected that she donated more of her time to various causes, which in many cases was even more valuable.

  Overall, Ms. Larsden was a cautious person.

  Which was why she’d been so hesitant to accept a dinner invitation with him.

  Smart woman, he thought as he rang the doorbell.

  Right on time, she opened the door, but there wasn’t a bright, welcoming smile to her soft, full lips, which were colored in a pretty dark pink tonight. The color matched her mauve sundress and looked incredibly alluring, although he doubted she’d intended to be so enticing. The innocent looking material of her pretty dress cupped her breasts, which seemed fuller in the sundress than they had earlier today in that ugly, black dress that was closer to an ugly potato sack than a power outfit, which he suspected Melanie wanted it to be.

  “You look beautiful,” he commented, handing her the flowers he’d picked up at a florist’s shop on the way over here.

  “Oh!” she gasped, stepping back as she admired the bouquet with surprise. He almost laughed at her startled expression. She did that a lot with him, he realized. Seemingly everything he did, from a casual touch to flowers surprised her. Were the men in her life so pathetic that she would be surprised by a simple bouquet of flowers?

  By the glimmer of tears in her eyes, he suspected that they were.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, stepping back to let him into the house. She had her purse on her shoulder, as if she were fully prepared to walk out as soon as she answered the door. Did she not want him in her house? Probably not, he thought. Wise woman!

  “I’ll just put these in water before we leave.”

  He looked around, trying to avoid looking at her temptingly round bottom in the sundress. “Your home is lovely,” he said, following her through to the kitchen. The downstairs was only a small living room and the kitchen. There was probably a dining room on the other side of the tiny kitchen, but he didn’t want to pry, even as his eyes took in the bright yellow kitchen with flowered curtains guarding the window above the sink and the window on the upper half of the doorway that led outside. There was a tiny table with mismatched chair cushions in the corner, but the counters were clear of everything but a toaster and a coffee machine. Neat and tidy. Just like the owner. Interesting.

  He wanted to muss her up a bit. He wanted to take the pins out of her hair and watch it tumble down over her shoulders. He wanted to kiss her and smudge that pink lipstick, discover the exciting woman underneath the prim exterior.

  She took a vase out of a cabinet, glancing at him over her shoulder as she filled the vase with water. “Thank you. My brother tells me that it’s too tidy. Every time he comes to visit, he walks in the house, opens a newspaper that he’d specifically bought right before he arrives, and spreads it out all over the coffee table. He doesn’t even read newspapers, preferring to get his news online. But he does it just to rile me.”

  He laughed softly, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe as he watched her. She had pretty hands, he realized as she fluffed the flowers so that they spread out in the vase. “Does it work?”

  She laughed, but it sounded a bit self-conscious. “Not really. He can’t stand messes either and he straightens everything up after an hour or two. Plus, I cook for him and he washes up afterward, leaving everything cleaner than before he arrived.”

  “So, why does he tease you about the cleanliness of your house?”

  She turned and leaned a hip against the countertop. “Probably for the same reason you would do it.”

  “Just for the reaction?” he chuckled, moving closer.

  She grinned back at him. “Exactly. Which is probably the same reason you’re moving closer and why you asked me out to dinner,” she replied nervously, slipping away from him and moving across the room.

  Jackson turned and watched her carefully. “I seriously doubt that my motives are similar to your brother’s.”

  “You’re not trying to irritate me?”

  He chuckled. “No. My goal is…uh…different.”

  He watched, noticing that she was holding her breat
h and he could practically see her mind whirling. “Let’s go to dinner,” he took her hand. “I don’t know why you doubt my motives, Melanie.”

  She locked up the house and he saw the blush stain her cheeks. “Probably because I’m a mouse compared to the mountain lions you’re probably used to dating.” She turned, tucking her keys into her purse before looking up at him. “I’m not your type, Jackson. So why are we here?”

  He moved closer, blocking the view of anyone passing by from the street. “Because you’re a beautiful woman, Melanie. And I’m interested in you.”

  She bit her lower lip and he couldn’t believe how sexy that small gesture was.

  “I don’t know why. I’m sure the women that run in your circles are much more interesting than an elementary school teacher who has to go around begging for money to fund school projects.”