I frowned. “You said that already.”

“Yes, I guess I did.” He began to pace in front of me, gesticulating as he explained in a loud whisper, “Gunther Schnaubel is a royal pain. He doesn’t follow the rules. He’s asking for trouble and he’s going to get himself killed if he’s not more careful.”

“So you needed all your men here.”

“Exactly.” He looked relieved. “I knew you’d understand.”

“Of course.” Even though I didn’t. I mean, I understood why he was here, but I didn’t understand why he hadn’t called. Oh, I suppose I could’ve called him, but the strategy of calling men never seemed to work for me. I guess I was an old-fashioned girl when it came to that sort of thing. But none of it mattered right now. I had a class to teach.

“I’m glad we talked.” I checked my watch. “Now I really have to get back to my class.”

“We’re not finished here.”

“No, of course not. But I do have to go.”

The bathroom door flew open, and Alice stepped out into the hall. “Oh,” she said, and looked from me to Derek, then back to me. “You’re still here.”

“I’ll just be another minute,” I said, feeling my cheeks redden. “Can you tell everyone?”

“Sure can,” she said, smiling as she walked away.

“What time is your class over?” Derek asked.

“Ten o’clock.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“You don’t—”

“I do.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. That first rush of fury was draining away as I looked at him. After all, we weren’t a couple. We were kissing buddies. Occasionally. Not exactly a declaration of couplehood. “This is crazy, Derek. You don’t owe me an explanation. We’re not—”

“Christ.” He raked his hand through his hair in aggravation. “I hate this.”

“Oo-kay.” I wasn’t clear on what it was he hated.

“I don’t apologize,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Why should you?”

“There,” he said, pointing at me. “Right there. You’re doing it again.”

I looked at him sideways. “Doing what?”

“Making me feel like I ran over your dog.”

“I don’t have a dog.” I was completely lost now. “What are you talking about?”

He laughed. “You’re right. I’ve gone insane. But it’s your fault.”

“Mine?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t drag me into this,” I protested.

He laughed again. “Damn it, I’ve missed you. I didn’t want to. I was determined not to see you again.”

“Well, thank you. That’s really flattering. I’m so happy we had this conversation.” I folded my arms across my chest. “And guess what? You don’t have to see me again.”

“Ah, but it seems I do.” He urged me back into his arms and I almost whimpered. It wasn’t fair. He kissed my neck, kissed my shoulder. “Damn it, you’re even more lovely than I remembered. What was I thinking?”

“I have no idea.”

He laughed, and the sound went a long way to refresh my spirit. “God, you’ll be the death of me. Go teach your class. I’ll be waiting.”

Breathless, I rushed off, but made the mistake of turning around. He stood in the same spot, watching me, his eyes as dark as cobalt, his lips twisting sardonically. It was disconcerting and a complete turn-on. Part of me wanted to rush back and kiss him and another part of me wanted to slap him silly.

I couldn’t believe I’d mentioned Layla to him. For one thing, I sounded like a jealous cat. But also, I was annoyed with myself for revealing what I was angry about. Women were never supposed to tell a guy what was actually bothering them, right? It was in the Official Rule Book. If a guy doesn’t know what’s bothering you, then why should you tell him?

I jogged down the hall but slowed when I heard two women arguing in one of the empty classrooms near mine.

“Keep your hands off my husband.”

“Honey, it’s not my hands you have to worry about.”

“I know what you’re doing, and it stops now.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really,” she said, then lowered her voice to add, “Or you’ll be sorry.”

“Oh, threats?” The woman laughed and I realized it was Layla. Her voice dripped with cynical delight.

“Yeah. Hands off, or you’re a dead woman.”

The door was thrown open and I pressed myself back against the wall. It was my ridiculous attempt to hide in plain sight, but it didn’t matter because Cynthia Hardesty never looked my way. Layla followed a moment later, twirling a loose strand of hair around her fingers as she strolled leisurely back to the party.

As I walked into my classroom, I considered the scene I’d just overheard. I couldn’t let Cynthia know I’d witnessed the argument, but I had the strongest urge to console her. I could feel her pain, having just experienced a meltdown over the possibility of Layla and Derek together.

I took a moment and mentally shoved Derek Stone into a box so I could conduct the class without going bonkers.

Within the first half hour, the party sounds from Layla’s happy hour bash dwindled. Eventually all was quiet and my students were able to concentrate on practicing the kettle stitch they’d learned the night before.

This was only the second evening of class but the group was already beginning to meld nicely. As everyone worked, the personalities of some of the students rose to the fore. I’d like to think we were all getting used to each other’s quirks and foibles, but some were more easy to acclimate to than others.

Cynthia and Tom, for instance, tended to bicker quietly over almost anything. The subject matter could be as trivial as the choice of covers for the books they were making. But I’d heard that argument with Layla and there was nothing trivial about it. Tom would have been wise to pay closer attention to his wife.

Gina and Whitney liked to talk, too, but at least they were entertaining. Both were pop-culture fanatics and proud of it. They told me what they’d seen on TMZ the previous night; then Gina showed everyone the GoFug-Yourself. com app on her phone. Kylie and Marianne both begged to see the latest red-carpet disasters.

Mitchell was a jovial man, cheerful and interested in the others’ lives. Dale, Bobby, and Jennifer, on the other hand, worked quietly and kept to themselves.

When Alice wasn’t texting her boyfriend, Stuart, or rushing off to the bathroom, she would absently rub her stomach while she worked. Fortunately, she was blessed with a self-deprecating sense of humor, so most of the students found her charming, despite her health issues.

When she walked back in from her latest bathroom run, I approached her and asked if she was okay.

She sighed and whispered, “Sometimes I think I was born without intestines. Food and liquid seem to travel directly from my stomach right down to my . . . well, you probably don’t need the specifics.”

“Ya think?” Gina whispered loudly, and everyone nearby laughed, including Alice.

“Maybe it’s your diet,” Whitney suggested gently. “My cousin is gluten-intolerant and he had to change his whole way of eating. But now he’s fine.”

“Oh, I’m getting tested for celiac disease tomorrow,” Alice said. “Stuart read about it and insisted I see my doctor.”

“Good idea,” Gina said.

Alice sighed. “Sorry to disrupt the class.”

I glanced around the room. Most everyone seemed to be concentrating on gluing their books properly. “I don’t think you’re disrupting anyone.”

“Yeah, Alice, don’t worry about it,” Whitney said, waving away her concern. “We just want you to be healthy.”

Alice blinked, clearly surprised. “You guys are so nice.”

Just then, I caught Tom Hardesty casting a disgruntled frown at Alice. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him make that face, but I only now realized it was directed at Alice. Since he was a board member, there was no way I could tell him to knock it off. But I didn’t like students being disrespectful of each other. I wondered if maybe Tom disliked Alice because she was such good friends with Layla.