be one of several problems: uncaring parents, bad nutrition, a learning deficit yet to be diagnosed or corrected, or a combination of any of the above.
For Tanner, the source was her. Bringing up his family had brought up a past he found painful.
Her fingers tightened on the stem of her water glass. It was her fault, which meant it was also up to her to find a way to distract him.
Of course, here in the restaurant she didn't have a flannel board or sock puppets or math puzzle cards to whip from her bag of teacher tricks. They'd already covered favorite books, TV, and movies.
Without a clear plan in her head, she slid her arm slowly across the table. Leaning forward, she placed her palm over his fist.
His gaze shifted from faraway to her fingers. Hannah swallowed. "I've just got to ask..."
His expression hardened. "I didn't have the faintest idea Dez was going to kiss me," he said in a low voice, not looking at her. "And yes, I did know the agent who was killed in my place."
Guilt jabbed Hannah again. She had meant to ask something banal about his meal or his work at the bar or something dull but distracting like that.
Oh, why had she brought up his family? And how had that segued into a rehash of the night of the assassination attempt? Of course, no one had been taking his "place." The article had been quite detailed about the entire event. The agent, Ayesha Spencer, had been new to that particular Secret Ser vice team, but there wasn't the hint of an accusation that her death had anything to do with Tanner.
Except, obviously, in his own mind.
Her heart gave a painful squeeze. "That's not the question I had."
His fist hadn't relaxed beneath her touch. "Oh yeah? Then what is your question?"
"I...I..." She was feeling a bit reckless in her determination to turn his dark mood. But how to do it?
"I was wondering about New Year's Eve," she suddenly said, surprising herself. "About us."
His gaze flicked up. Now she had his attention. And he no longer looked angry or sad either.
Hah. Triumph filled her, making her even more rash. "Tell me, Tanner. Was it...was it really that explosive?" Heat flooded her face, and she hurried to make clear she wasn't fishing for compliments. "You see, I have to confess. I...I had those mojitos and I can't quite remember..."
He was remembering something, because his eyes were alive again. Hot. Focused on her, and her alone. It occurred to Hannah that maybe, just maybe, he'd been covering his ongoing attraction for her too.
"Hannah." His voice was low, with a hint of a hoarse note. "It was Armageddon, just like I said. Explosive."
Oh, God. Explosive. Why did that single word set fire to the fuse of every one of her tinder-dry nerve endings? Her skin went hot all over and the flames seemed to suck the oxygen from her lungs. Why couldn't she remember? It wasn't fair that the memory of sexual explosion had been taken from her along with so much else.
She licked her lips, the fire inside of her making her more reckless and rash than before. "Oh, well, um..."
His hand relaxed beneath hers and turned. His fingers slid against the inside of her own. Oh, God, she was suddenly beyond burning.
"'Oh, well,' what?"
He was most definitely in a different mood now. His gaze drifted from her face to her chest, and she followed his glance. Her position against the table had pushed her breasts even higher than already achieved by the wonder garment she was wearing beneath Desiree's dress.
Her skin started to tingle.
"I know we said we wouldn't, um, do that again," she whispered, not daring to move. "But I'm thinking..." Could she do this? Could she convince her conscience that the suggestion on the tip of her tongue was just for him?
"You're thinking what?"
"Since I don't remember that first, um, explosion, if we did it again, it wouldn't actually be again, right?" She said the words as fast as she could. "It would still just be the one time, just a little New Year's Eve naughtiness."
He stared at her. Any lingering thoughts of her students, school teaching, sock puppets, fled from her mind. Her proposition wasn't meant to distract him, no kidding herself about that anymore. Looking at his golden-god features and glittering eyes, she knew it was all for her, for Hannah, for the downtrodden part of her that needed to feel like a