Snowbound - Harlequin.com

JANICE KAY JOHNSON
83
if he couldn’t share it. Her happy little glow was occasionally
contagious, and how could that be a bad thing?
He hoped he would have to wake her from her nap.
Of course, if she didn’t wander downstairs herself, he
should send one of the girls, but John persuaded himself
that she wouldn’t want one of her students to see her so
vulnerable. What if she snored? Drooled? Talked in her
sleep? Within a day of getting back to Hawes Ferry,
every kid in her high school would know. She’d be at
the front of the class lecturing, and hear a soft snore from
the back of the room followed by an eruption of giggles.
He’d be doing her a favor, waking her up himself.
He watched the clock, which moved with infuriating
slowness. The moment it reached four-thirty, he
rose to his feet. Half the kids still lounged downstairs,
while four of them had disappeared. Their teacher
would undoubtedly have worried, but John didn’t care
what they were doing off by themselves.
In the hall above, giggles came through the closed
door to one of the girls’ rooms, followed by the deeper
rumble of a boy’s voice. Dieter was still downstairs;
Hopper or Troy, then.
Fiona’s door was shut as well. John knocked lightly.
When there was no response, he opened it, then cleared
his throat.
The dark head on the pillow didn’t move.
Leaving the door slightly ajar, he crossed the room.
Still dressed, she’d stretched out on top of the down
comforter, then pulled half of it over her. She apparently
didn’t snore and wasn’t drooling, but neither did she stir
even when he cleared his throat again, more loudly.