Beware That Girl by Teresa Toten Page B

school’s online and paper promotional materials. He had that room.
    But far more important, he had Olivia.
    It caught her by surprise, but it was real. She knew this because as he delivered his spiel on the Wonders, Mark kept almost touching Kate. It was so natural, as if it were part of the presentation. Not remarkable in any way, really. What was remarkable was how much it bothered her. It was a straight-up feeling, and surprisingly intense.
    Jealousy.
    It forced Olivia to reevaluate, reappraise, watch. She paid close attention now. Mark Redkin was magnificent throughout the rest of his presentation. Confident and commanding, but not in love with the sound of his own voice like some of the others. Quick to smile but always on point. And so, so appealing. Mark bent the entire board to his will. Every one of his items was approved. By the time he was finished, Olivia was sure. Olivia wanted.

    As soon as they were all excused, she caught his attention. “Mark, a word?”
    “Of course.” He drew her aside in the hallway. “That went beautifully, thank you. You were wonderful, Olivia.”
    You were wonderful. She wanted to melt into him against the wall.
    “Olivia?”
    His lashes were dark, unusual for a blond man. He was inches away from her. No scent of cologne, no aftershave. Mark Redkin just smelled like himself—like a man was supposed to—and it was…intoxicating. Olivia searched for her breath.
    “My father called just before we came. You can go back in and tell everyone that he’s secured the new Whitney for the Winterfest Gala. I think Mrs. Sabre from the museum will call you about it tomorrow.”
    He smiled at her. Of course he did. But as he did so, Mark Redkin locked on to Olivia as if he had never seen her before, not really, and now that he did, no one else mattered. Men did things like that. Men like Mark Redkin.
    “That’s wonderful, Olivia. Let’s talk about it soon.”
    As he thanked her, Mark grazed her arm. It was a nothing gesture, but one that electrified her, changed her.
    “Yes, let’s.” Olivia didn’t allow herself to smile until she turned to walk away.

I’ve been itching since Monday, the kind of itch you can’t get at because it’s burrowed deep under your skin. Something was up.
    Olivia was at her psychiatrist’s. Maybe I should go too.
    Yeah, right.
    There’s not a shrink on the planet I can’t scam. I’ve been to psychoanalysts, psychotherapists, social workers and Dudley Do-Rights of all shapes and stripes. The system vomits them on you. I can feign shock, horror, despair and grief, all served up with a cup of crocodile tears. I cough up whatever’s appropriate to the scenario, and I don’t trust any of them. Stay sharp. Stay hard. Stay smart. I’d have been buried alive in foster care had I not managed them at every single turn. Scholarships, education, boarding schools, rich-kid environments—I knew even then that was the only way through. My mom hammered it into me: “You keep your eye on the prize, Katie O’Brien.”
    She didn’t, but I will.

    No distractions allowed. Especially not the bakery boy. Claudette let me know that he’d been trolling around for my contact info. I told her that if she or any of her crew gave it out, I’d dismember them. We laughed, of course, but Claudette is just a little afraid of me. As she should be.
    God, he was cute, though. Exactly my type. I didn’t even know I had a type until I saw him with that stupid beer in his hand. Stop! No one touches me. Not head, heart or body—not in that way. No one.
    Which reminded me, Redkin had almost touched me a thousand times at the board meeting. But he drew back like he knew not to. Quick study? Too quick? Way too quick.
    I was making too much of it. I get like that sometimes. It’s what comes from being on hyper high alert. I had to get out of my head, so I fired up my laptop. I’d promised to help Olivia with AP History when she got back.
    At some point, Anka walked into my room.