MacAllister's Baby Read Online Free PDF Page B

both believe that this contest could make a big difference in their lives.’
    Angus forgot about his coffee. He understood now why he had the hots for this teacher. It wasn’t only her beauty, her will, her straight-backed grace. It was this passion bubbling under her controlled surface. Passion that, right now, was directed at her students’ welfare.
    He knew a lot of people who were passionate about food, or about fame. It had been a long time since he had met somebody who was passionate about people. He wasn’t sure if he ever had.
    And having learned this about Elisabeth, he could imagine her passion directed at other things. Him, for example.
     
    Angus MacAllister was staring at her.
    He’d been looking at her before; he’d been flirting with her. But now he was downright staring.
    All of the ease she’d rediscovered while she was talking about her pupils left her, and Elisabeth felt like she had fifteen minutes ago, when he’d touched her. Powerless in the face of her yearning. Barely able to breathe.
    She fought to regain the thread of what she’d been saying. She’d been talking about the kids. Why would he stare at her like that when she was talking about students he didn’t even know? It wasn’t as if what she was saying could matter to him.
    ‘Excuse me, but aren’t you Angus MacAllister?’
    The interruption broke the spell she was under, and Elisabeth looked up to see a middle-aged woman standing next to their table. She was smiling nervously at Angus.
    ‘Yes, hello,’ Angus said, rising and offering his hand to the woman.
    ‘I’m such a big fan of yours,’ said the woman, blushing as she shook his hand. ‘I had to come over and say hello.’
    ‘Thank you.’ He was beaming at her, and Elisabeth noticed that he appeared to be one-hundred-per-cent sincere, despite the fact that a second ago he’d been giving Elisabeth all of his attention. ‘That’s kind of you. I appreciate it. What’s your name?’
    ‘Helen.’ The woman was clearly delighted at his attention.
    ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Helen. Are you enjoying Luciano’s coffee as much as I am?’
    Elisabeth watched him charm the woman, chat with her, ask her questions about herself, accept her compliments with cheerful grace. So this was what it was like to be famous. You had to suffer interruptions, invasions of privacy, and appear to love it.
    Then again, he probably did love it, she thought as Angus asked Luciano for a pen to sign the paper napkin the woman asked him to autograph. Personally, she couldn’t imagine anything worse. Growing up surrounded by people, in shared houses and hippy communes across the breadth of Canada, she’d learned to guard her privacy, hoard every inch of personal space, treasure the times she could choose whom to share her thoughts with.
    She understood the need to have a public persona—that was what you did in the classroom, after all. But if you had to be in public all the time, how on earth could you tell who you really were? How could you feel secure over your own life if you let other people have access to it whenever they wanted?
    Maybe you became your public persona, your famous self. She wouldn’t have been surprised if that was what Robin was like all the time these days, for example.
    Angus shook the woman’s hand again, and she went back to her table as he took his seat. ‘Sorry about that.’ He grinned at Elisabeth. ‘Hazard of the profession.’
    And he’d dealt with it as if it were as easy and natural as breathing.
    ‘This is one of the things I wanted to talk with you about,’ she said. ‘Jennifer and Danny are vulnerable enough without being made the focus of national press attention. We will not allow their names or images to be used for publicity without the permission of their parents and the school. This permission may never be granted. If you talk about what you’re doing with the press, you’ll have to respect their need for anonymity.’
    Angus