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hesitated, and then lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. “We, uh, don’t mind.”
    She read his body language loud and clear, though—he minded. But disappointing such an adorable third grader had to be a sin, she thought, turning back to Ben. “Well, if you’re sure.”
    “You can sit right there beside my dad.” Ben pointed at the narrow seat.
    If she sat there, she’d barely have elbow room. She would be rubbing up against the handsome father that, yes, she was very attracted to despite her earnest wish that she wasn’t. Even though he’d been considerably nicer toward her at their last meeting, he was still a parent—one whose trust she was working hard to earn.
    “Please. Join us,” Micah urged, surprising her and leaving her with very little choice.
    “Okay then. I’ll just go grab my pizza and put my papers away.”
    Ben cheered as she walked back to her table.
    Why on earth had she just said yes? It was bad enough that she’d practically drooled over Micah’s tightly molded muscles as he’d lifted his glass just then. Checking out a student’s father crossed some ethical line in the principal handbook, didn’t it? She’d just have to spend the dinner focusing on Ben, which wouldn’t be too hard. With his adorable glasses and limitless curiosity, he was already leading the pack for her favorite student this year. Not that she had favorites.
    She placed her pizza on the table beside theirs and Micah slid over an inch, gesturing for her to sit beside him.
    “See?” Ben pointed at the spinach pizza. “That side of the pizza is my dad’s. He likes spinach just like you.”
    She nodded. “Your dad has good taste.”
    Ben’s smile stretched impossibly wider. Then he peppered her with questions as they ate. What was her favorite color?—green. What was her favorite food?—chips and salsa.
    “Which war is your favorite?” he asked.
    “War?” Kat glanced at Micah. Until now, he’d been quiet during her interrogation by his son.
    “Ben has a special interest in history. Wars specifically,” Micah told her. Sitting this close as he spoke to her felt intimate. Meeting his eyes with only a few inches between them felt too close for comfort, but not nearly close enough if she consulted her woman parts.
    Kat nodded slowly, directing her gaze and thoughts forward as she searched for an answer. “I guess I prefer peace over war.”
    Ben awkwardly angled his head to bite from his pizza. When he was done chewing, he smiled at her. “That was a slack answer, Principal Chandler.”
    “Ben,” Micah reprimanded. “That wasn’t nice.”
    “But that’s what you always yell at the TV when someone dodges the question on CNN, Dad.”
    Kat couldn’t help laughing. It felt good to laugh. That’s why she’d wanted to meet Val here tonight. “It’s okay. Ben’s right. It was a slack answer. Hmm.” She tore off a piece of her pizza and popped it into her mouth. War had stolen her fiancé. She swallowed the thickening lump rising in her throat. She couldn’t think about the past, at least not now. “I’ll have to get back to you on that, Ben. Is that a better answer?”
    With a shrug, he immediately asked her another question, as if he had a Rolodex in his little mind.
    “So, let me guess. You’re going to be a reporter when you grow up?” she teased, sharing another look with Micah. The momentary meeting of their eyes sent fiery embers through her blood. He reached for the Parmesan cheese on the table and his arm brushed against hers. It should’ve been awkward, but she found herself mentally willing him to reach for something else just so that she could feel his skin on hers. Squirming, she looked at Ben, whose characteristic smile had faded.
    “Reporters don’t have wheelchairs, Principal Chandler,” he said.
    The lump in her throat was back. She set her pizza down and leaned in closer to him, making sure he paid attention. “Reporters come in all shapes and sizes. I’m sure there are some