Chapter Five

IT was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon when Sydney arrived at Cassie's high school for her conference with Cassie's math teacher. She'd left her daughter at home, mainly because she wanted to know what was going on with Cassie without any ready excuses or interruptions during her meeting with Daniel Barnett. She wanted direct and uncensored information so she could decide how to get Cassie back on track-pronto.

She entered through the school's main gates and followed the directions Cassie had given her to Building C. She passed through the quad area, and other than seeing a few teenagers and staff on campus, the place was fairly deserted, which made sense, since it was Friday and the start of the weekend for teachers and students.

Finding the two-story structure, she entered the quiet building and headed down the long corridor toward the math wing, the sound of her heeled boots echoing in the hallway. Her gaze took in the rows of metal lockers lining the corridor, the glass case filled to capacity with student awards, and the colorful posters taped to the walls announcing an upcoming dance.

A dull, disconcerting sensation settled in the pit of her stomach, and she tried to shake it off. It wasn't the first time she'd been to Cassie's high school and walked the halls, yet doing so never failed to bring back memories of her own teenage years and how very difficult and painful high school had been for her.

As a freshman, she'd not only had the stigma of being a foster kid who wore used and outdated clothes purchased at the Salvation Army, but being a fourteen-year-old pregnant teen living in a halfway house made her the target of gossip, ridicule, and scorn. No one cared to know the circumstances of her past, or her pregnancy-they only chose to believe that she was a tramp and a whore, and the kind of girl that would screw any guy interested in getting into her pants.

But what hurt more than the rude stares and whispers behind her back was the fact that the boy who'd taken her virginity and fathered her baby, her own foster brother, had only reinforced the notion that she was a slut who put out, and that made her the target of unwanted advances from other guys, as well. The only person who'd remained a true friend through those four torturous years had been Lora Marshall. Sydney knew she never would have made it to graduation without her best friend's love, support, and understanding.

High school had been nothing more than a means to an end for Sydney. Despite how hard it had been to raise a toddler during those years and still maintain a B average, she'd been driven to get her education and be more than her heroin-addicted mother had amounted to. She'd also been fiercely determined to give Cassie the kind of life and unconditional love that she, herself, had grown up without.

As for Tim Carson, the guy who'd fathered Cassie-a boy that Sydney had truly believed had loved her and who had said all the right words to get her to have sex with him-well, he'd denied any part in her pregnancy. And his mother and father, Sydney's foster parents, had immediately thought the worst and accused her of trying to trap their son by claiming the child was his. Then they'd promptly given her back to the state to deal with. Since no one wanted the responsibility or hassle of taking in a knocked-up teen, she'd been assigned to a state-run halfway house for unwed mothers.

Her memories of her teenage years weren't fond ones, but she'd learned a whole lot of hard, emotional lessons during high school, and especially from Tim Carson. He'd been the first to teach her that guys took one look at her voluptuous body and curves and wanted only one thing: to fuck her. It had been a perpetual occurrence in her life when it came to men, but instead of allowing the situation to make her bitter, she'd learned to use her sensuality and seductive figure to her own advantage. To get what she wanted, too-whether it had to do with business or her own physical pleasure. Her decision had served her very well over the years, not only putting her firmly in control of any sexual situation, but also allowing her to keep emotions out of the equation.

She refused to let any man exploit her the way that Tim Carson had. When she went out with a guy, she knew exactly what she was getting into. To that end, she preferred to date men who were out for a good time and nothing more. She had a daughter to raise and a bar to keep successful in order to pay off her business loan, and she didn't want or need the distraction of entanglements or attachments getting in the way of her priorities. Which wasn't an issue since she never let a man get close enough to threaten her emotions.

Arriving at Daniel Bamett's classroom, she inhaled a deep breath to regain her composure and redirected her focus to why she was here today. Because of Cassie, and to discuss any potential problems that her daughter was having with math.

She opened the door, stepped inside, and found Daniel standing at the front of the room. His back was to her as he wrote the following Monday's class assignment on the chalkboard, and he gave her a quick glance over his shoulder, and added a polite, "I'll be with you in a minute," before finishing up his task.

As he jotted down page numbers and a note to the class that there would be a test at the end of the week, she casually strolled her way toward his desk. A moment later, he dropped the chalk into a tray and turned around to face her. Her mouth quirked as she took in Mr. Preppy's attire-with his navy chinos, long-sleeved button-up shirt, and matching tie, he was the epitome of a conservative, traditional type of guy. The kind she wouldn't normally give a second glance because he was so opposite of the rough-and-tumble bad boys that normally drew her eye.

Yet she had to admit that Daniel Baraett was very nice looking, in a clean cut, polished sort of way. There was no denying his wide shoulders and a lean body he obviously kept in shape. His thick, dark blond hair was cut short and neat, and his features were nicely chiseled. His eyes were a warm shade of brown that reminded her of the fine whiskey she served at the bar, or rich caramel, depending on how the light reflected off his irises, and he had a mouth that was decidedly sensual and prompted her thoughts to stray down a very naughty path she had no business traveling with this particular man.

"Hi, Sydney," he said, and extended his hand toward her as a friendly smile curved the lips she'd just fantasized about. "Thanks for coming in. I appreciate it."

"Of course." She shook his hand, all too aware of the heat of his large palm against hers, and how long and strong his fingers felt wrapped around her hand. In contrast to his undeniable masculinity, she almost felt delicate… when she was anything but.

She pushed the ridiculous notion from her mind and kept her thoughts strictly on business. "Nothing is more important than my daughter and her education, Mr. Barnett." And she was determined to make sure that Cassie had every advantage, and the grades to get accepted to a reputable university. Sydney might have scratched, clawed, stripped, and slept her way to being able to open her own business because she'd lacked any type of college degree, but her daughter would hopefully never, ever have to stoop to that kind of level. Not if Sydney could help it.

"Call me Daniel, please." He rounded his desk and pushed aside papers and textbooks on it in search of something. "I have to say, if all my parents had your same positive attitude and showed more interest in their kids' academic achievements, my job would be so much easier and far more enjoyable."

She shook her head, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I can't even imagine how difficult it must be to teach a classroom of hormonal, moody, and temperamental teenagers." Considering she could barely handle Cassie's mood swings, the thought made her shudder.

He glanced up at her and chuckled, a warm, deep sound that did funny things to her insides. "It's definitely a challenge. If I didn't love math so much I would have quit my first year, which was pure hell, and followed in my brother's and father's footsteps and joined the family medical practice. Except I'm not that great when it comes to blood and guts, and stitches and shots make me queasy." He pressed a hand to his stomach and grimaced.

This time, she laughed, because it wasn't often that a man admitted to such a weakness. "Well, if you do ever quit, you can always come to work for me as a bartender at The Electric Blue."

He lifted an inquiring brow, bringing her attention to the amusement glimmering in the depths of his eyes. "Don't the workers dance on the counters and tabletops there?"

"Yeah, they do." She bit the inside of her cheek, unable to imagine a reserved guy like Daniel shaking it for the crowd. She was guessing he came from a blue-blooded type of family who preferred the exclusivity of a posh, upscale country club over a loud, rowdy bar. "It's part of the job description. You've got to be willing to be a little uninhibited."

"Ahhh, it's a tempting offer, but I'm much more comfortable holding a calculator and textbook than juggling bottles of beer and liquor, not to mention the whole dancing thing," he said, and picked up a file folder he found beneath a pile of papers. "I'm an analytical, problem-solving kind of guy, and the whole bump-and-grind scenario just isn't my thing. At least not in public, anyway." Grinning, he winked at her, then started for a small table and chairs set up in the corner of the room.

She stared after him for a moment before following, uncertain whether she was more shocked at his sense of humor, or the fact that he'd just openly flirted with her.