Chapter 2

Chapter Two

R and was glad for Kira's penchant for keeping her head down when entering a room. It had given him time to brace himself for her reaction to seeing him. He'd imagined this moment a thousand times in the last six months, but never envisioned this. Her invading his territory. On his base, teaching classes, looking every bit as sexy-librarian as she had six months ago.

He'd seen the posts about the hot teacher in one of the base chat groups and had been irritated but not surprised that Diana was being objectified by her students. Scrolling down further, he'd been stunned when the name of the substitute teacher was posted.

Now he knew why Chris was out on sick leave. And he finally had a chance to see Kira when she couldn't turn him away.

He'd expected surprise, been braced for anger, hoped to see a kindle of excitement.

What he got was water in the face. Par for the course, really.

Her pale white skin flushed a bright red as she caught her breath and said, "Rand! Er…Lieutenant Commander Fallon. I'm so sorry! I didn't expect to see you…"

She was adorable flustered. But then, after about ten minutes alone with her, he'd been smitten and thought she was adorable no matter what her mood or manner.

He wiped the drops of water from his face with a bandanna as he chuckled. To be fair, she'd barely splattered him. He deserved much worse.

He hated that she'd seen him with Staci, and later, he should've called her when her father died. But he couldn't tell her what he believed her father had done, not when she was deep in grief. Failing to offer an explanation for his absence would hardly be a comfort.

"It's good to see you, Kira." He didn't think he'd ever said truer words. The last time he'd looked into her eyes, her face had been swollen and her forehead split open. It was damn good to see her today, bruise-free.

He glanced around the room, which had gone silent at some point after Kira choked upon seeing him. "Er…I hope you don't mind my crashing your class."

Her gorgeous, long-lashed hazel eyes narrowed, but a smile tugged at her perfect red lips. She took a step toward him, but remained just out of reach. "This session is pretty basic for someone with your experience and type of deployment. I'm sure you know Diana will be teaching a more advanced class for Navy and Army special forces next month."

That almost-smile was everything. He grinned back, feeling more confident by the moment. A lot of women found him attractive, and he was fairly certain Dr. Kira Hanson was within that Venn diagram. He dropped his voice to just above a whisper. "I don't mind redundancy in education. SEALs are all about training and learning. We practice over and over, even when we have a skill down."

Her face, which had returned to her natural pale peach, flushed again as she rolled her eyes. "Your choice, of course, but you'll probably be bored."

With Kira at the lectern? Never.

"Can we chat after class?"

She grimaced. "Actually, I'm on a tight schedule and need to hit the road."

"Five minutes? Please?"

She huffed out a sigh. "Fine. But that's all I can spare." She glanced at her watch. "And I'm now running behind." She turned and took her place at the lectern.

Rand settled into his front-row seat. After six months of wondering, waiting, and wanting, in two hours, he'd get a five-minute, private, face-to-face with Dr. Kira Hanson.

K ira smiled at the roomful of students who'd just witnessed her spew a mouthful of water on the commander of a Navy SEAL team.

Don't try this at home, kids. I'm a professional.

But as usually happened in these sorts of situations, the ridiculousness of the moment took the edge off. Session one had been fine, two even better, but three… Well, she stuck the landing.

Or rather, since she was pinch-hitting, it was a home run.

Her ego appreciated that this was the session in which Rand was front row, center, even though she avoided his gaze the entire time. She was working. Dialed in. This was her forte.

The students laughed at her—or rather Diana's—jokes, and where appropriate, Kira expanded on her expertise when it came to identifying fake provenance for potentially legal sales. Provenance traps were the bread and butter of forgers and fakers, and their prey ranged from big-cat super-rich collectors to tiny-kitten servicemen and women looking to bring home a souvenir from deployment.

She clicked to the slide that listed the fines and felony charges one faced when bringing looted artifacts into the US. "Nothing spoils a homecoming more than being arrested at the end of the gangplank."

A few people snickered, but there was enough uncomfortable shifting in seats to tell her that the message hit home. She did the thing she usually avoided and met the gazes of random students. "If you have in your possession artifacts or art that might have been fraudulently obtained, there are amnesty programs to return the item to the country or community where it belongs. Likewise, if you have family members who might have taken art or antiquities in the past, you can contact the Monuments Men and Women Foundation to discuss repatriation without penalty. The Foundation doesn't care that your grandpa—or in this room, more likely great -grandparent—took a relic from a church or saved an illuminated manuscript from a Nazi book burning, but then kept it for him or herself. The mission is to return the works to their rightful owners. In some cases, there are rewards of up to twenty-five thousand dollars."

She touched the remote to give the MMWF website information, and an image of the Foundation's WWII Most Wanted Art deck of cards, which showcased some of the major works that remained missing since the war. "We've arranged with the Foundation for all class attendees to receive their own deck of cards. Grab one from the table at the back of the room on your way out. This concludes the prepared lecture, and we have"—she glanced at the clock—"five minutes for questions."

She cruised through the Q&A, and next thing she knew, it was over. And it had been easy. Fun, even.

But the most intense part of the day—five minutes that loomed both ominous and wonderful—was about to start.