Regardless, a Greek God was standing at her classroom door.

She looked and looked again.

Adonis. God of Desire and Manly Good Looks. Definitely.

Her visitor looked close to his mid-thirties. Nicely mature, she thought. Gorgeously mature. His long, rangy body matched a strongly boned face and almost sculpted good looks. He wore faded jeans and an open-necked shirt with rolled up sleeves. Looking closer-and she was looking closer-Misty could see muscles, beautifully delineated.

But…did Adonis have a six-year-old son?

For the man in her doorway was linked by hand to a child, and they matched. They both wore jeans and white shirts. Their black hair waved identically. Their coppery skin was the colour that no amount of fake tan could ever produce, and their identical green eyes looked capable of producing a smile to die for.

But only Adonis was smiling. He was squatting and saying to the child, ‘This looks the right place. They’re painting. Doesn’t this look fun?’

Son-of-Adonis didn’t look as if he agreed. He looked terrified.

And, with that, Misty gave herself a mental slap, hauled herself back from thinking about drop-dead gorgeous males and back to where she should be thinking-which was in schoolmarm mode.

‘Can I help you?’

Frank, Banksia Bay School Principal, should have intercepted this pair, she thought. If this was a new student she’d have liked some warning. There should be an empty place with the child’s name on it, paints with paper waiting to be drawn on, the rest of the class primed to be kind.

‘Are you Miss Lawrence?’ Adonis asked. ‘There’s no one in the Principal’s office and the woman down the hall said this is Grade One.’

She smiled her agreement, but directed her smile to Son-of-Adonis. ‘Yes, it is, and yes, I am. I’m Misty Lawrence, the Grade One teacher.’