Dean's List Read online

  "Whoa there. What do you think you're doing?" His voice resonated throughout the room and landed right in Leigh's gut, where it quivered like a tuning fork.

  God...who is he?

  "I was about to ask the same question," Leigh managed to say.

  He released the girl and eased back in his seat. Leigh lectured, taking brief discomfort in the flush spreading over the girl's face. She suspected the girl would be gone the first chance she got. Good riddance. Actions like these were the reason Leigh taught college courses rather than lower grades. She hated having to essentially babysit.

  Leigh shrugged the incident aside and went on with her introduction, then set the class loose on their first assignment. She wandered as she often did, peeking over everyone's shoulder as she strolled to get a glimpse into what they wrote. It wasn't as if she weren't going to see it eventually. Leigh liked to watch their process. Few things thrilled her more than the touch of pen--or pencil or keyboard--to paper. She studied body language, watching for that first instant when an idea gripped a person. For the most part, everyone embraced the assignment. It was going to be a good semester; Leigh felt it in her bones.

  Tonight her goal in wandering the room was duplicitous--she wanted to find out this man's name. Yes, she could have waited for the attendance roster to make its way into her hands. Doing so wouldn't have given her the sweet ripple of sensation at that first subtle whiff of Brut from him. She wouldn't have felt the heat trickle from his body when she neared, or been able to see the flex of muscle in his forearms. Or thrill in the race of his black Flair pen across the white notebook paper. Have the catch in her breath when she spied those first words--The first time I saw her...

  Her heart raced and she forced her gaze away from words clearly meant to be savored in the privacy of her own home. Drawing in breath to her oxygen-deprived lungs, her vision settled on the name at the top of the paper. Dan Jefferson.

  Dan Jefferson? As in Danny Jefferson?

  Her gaze ping-ponged between the name and the man. There was little doubt now. Holy shit, has he filled out well! He'd been a good-looking guy all those years ago. Every teenage girl from miles around found a way to show up whenever he did yard work...shirtless, of course, to soak in the California sun and let the breeze off the Pacific Ocean cool the sweat glistening over his torso. Though eight years separated them, Leigh could certainly understand and appreciate the appeal, especially now.

  The first time I saw her, my world changed. She was the light, all that would ever be. My breath, my hope, the path I'd take on the long road to manhood.

  Leigh returned to the lectern before someone caught her ogling. The words made love to her. This was wrong. So, so wrong. He was eight years younger than she was. Her student, for God's sake! Yet, in one brief moment of insanity, their tight bond was further sealed. Danny--Dan--had seen Leigh at her very worst. And he'd cheered her on. It was days later when she wondered how much more Dan had seen through those open drapes.

  Movement snapped Leigh from her thoughts. The attendance roster appeared before her. She slipped the paper from the woman's fingers with a smile. Leigh recognized her from the Spanish class she'd taught last semester--a divorced mother of three trying to earn her degree in the hopes of getting a better job. She didn't know how the woman managed, but she also knew strength came to a person when they least expected it. That thumbs-up, fist pump, high-five Dan Jefferson had given Leigh at one of the darkest moments of her life had helped give Leigh strength to move on.

  Now he was here, in her class, looking like every woman's dream. But not hers. Student, younger. Student, younger. She chanted the words, hoping they would sink into her addled brain and raging libido. She had a hard enough time with men her own age or older, she certainly didn't have the time and patience dealing with someone younger.

  Eight years isn't that much older.

  Stay to the list.

  Age isn't specified on the list.

  Leigh hated when the good fairy and bad fairy started to argue in her head. No, age wasn't on her oh-so-important list of things she required in a man. Other things were, like the physical requirements Dan nailed to perfection. And the way he seemed to love to write because that pen flew across the paper.

  No, no, no! Student, younger, and you have a past with him. He used to cut the grass!

  And did a very fine job of it, too. Excellent work ethic.

  Another check on the list.

  Dogs, cats, and children had flocked his way then, too. Leigh remembered how his face lit up. He always managed to have time for them all, and still get his work done. He was a magnet that drew a person near. Every living thing wanted to be with him. Just like she did now.

  More checks.

  Leigh tried not to laugh. She was putting the proverbial cart before the horse. A man like this had a girlfriend, or a wife. Perhaps children, too.

  No ring. No wife.

  He might not remember who she was. They'd been neighbors for a year, a little less than the length of her disastrous marriage. How many neighbors had he had since then? Probably not many who'd taken a riding crop to a cheating husband and whoring neighbor. Leigh had burned the crop in their barbeque grill after that. She'd never been able to use it after that. What once had given her private pleasure now sparked bad memories. Bert's blood had tarnished the leather, a permanent reminder of his betrayal and her foolishness for not seeing his true colors from the start.

  How many times had Dan been witness to those private pleasures? Closing the drapes was part of her routine, but had she forgotten? She'd indulge in the middle of the day, when she was certain Bert couldn't catch her, couldn't humiliate her as he'd done the one time he'd caught her in a moment.

  You disgust me.

  The words still hurt. They also prompted the number one item on Leigh's list--a man who knew and accepted her sexual needs. A man who would fulfill those needs without question. So far, Leigh had never found that man. She'd also been too uncertain of the reception to ask for what she really wanted. It took tremendous trust to open that door to another person. Leigh couldn't do it. The man on her list would know without being asked. Somehow, some way he'd just know.

  Like Dan?

  Leigh refused to entertain the idea. Rules were rules. List or no list.

  Or maybe he sat there now, remembering what she'd done and judging her, mocking her, sneering at her actions. She refused to entertain that idea, too, despite the inexplicable shame crawling over her skin. She'd done nothing wrong. Nothing. God, the years it'd taken to help her realize that.

  One by one, her students brought their papers forward. No surprise Blondie was the first or that she'd barely bothered with a scribbled sentence: I knew the first time my parents told me I'd have to go to college or get a job that this class would suck.

  It was going to be a long semester if she remained. Leigh still smiled and thanked her, gleaning pleasure from the fact her lack of anger pissed the girl off.

  And then she was down to two students--Dan and a middle-aged woman Leigh believed was Lois. Her heart skipped a beat when Dan ordered his papers and stood. He smiled; she smiled. She measured time in his footsteps tapping a steady rhythm as he walked her way. His scent, his heat. The strength rippling beneath his clothes. Leigh felt like prey--no, like a princess--no! Like treasure waiting to be plundered.

  "All done?" One shaking hand reached for his paper and slipped it from his grasp.

  "It's a little long."

  She had no doubt about that. You might not be able to judge a book by its cover, but she'd never been wrong measuring a man's penis from the size of his fingers. And Dan's? Yes, another check in the box. Her list was growing short.

  "Then it must have been a very happy first." She forced herself to smile and kept her gaze on his name at the top right corner and not devouring the words he'd written. Did he remember her...remember anything?

  "It's been a long time," Dan said. "We used to be neighbors."

  He did re
member! But how much? How fondly? Student, younger. "I remember." She sounded like one of the breathless teenagers who used to stalk him. "Hard to forget the best yard worker I ever had."

  He smiled. His gaze landed on her mouth. "You made the best lemonade."

  "Secret family recipe," they said together, then chuckled. It was Countrytime Lemonade and they both knew it.

  The tiny bit of camaraderie chased some of her nervousness away.

  "I know a great place that has the best ice cream," he said. "Want to go grab a cup with me and we can catch up?"

  Leigh did want it, more than she could say. She also wanted to retreat into her shell before each of them revealed too much, before one of them got hurt. She shuffled all the papers together and somehow managed to keep her gaze on him. "I'm so sorry. College policy forbids any type of fraternization between student and teacher." And right now those rules were the protection her heart and body needed.

  "Ah, I see." Dan nodded. "Well, see you tomorrow." He headed toward the door and lifted a wave her way. She waved back while guilt burrowed under her skin.

  His had been a friendly gesture. She'd been making something out of nothing. She was pathetic...and horny. Thank goodness she hadn't been stupid as well. Still, rules were rules and even overtures of friendship had to be set aside to avoid possible conflicts of interest at the college.

  Leigh reached for the stack of papers Lois handed her way, but her eyes kept drifting to those words Dan had written. Words she couldn't wait to savor in the privacy of her home. Words she prayed would be horribly written, illegibly scrawled, so she could find some flaw to crush her raging hormones.

  Chapter 3

  * * *

  Midnight and Leigh had yet to read Dan's paper. It was the last of the bunch, resting in the center of her brick red kitchen table...waiting. Vegas lights weren't as bright as that white rectangle of presumably innocent paper.

  She paced the floor, eyeing it while she sipped a second glass of chenin blanc. Or was it her third? Second, since the heat thrumming in her pussy had yet to quell. A third glass would have numbed everything. Presumptuous on her part to think the words were written just for her--well, technically they had been since it was her assignment that had set the ball in motion.

  It was his invite to have ice cream. Old acquaintances catching up. He'd been a kid at the time, and Leigh a young woman. It was a gesture of friendship. Like asking someone out for coffee. Why was she making something out of nothing?

  Because it was ice cream. Sweet, cool, make all your cares go away ice cream. The kind of feeling she was supposed to be getting from this wine, but wasn't. It could have only meant more if he'd invited her out for lemonade. Temptation niggled at the corners of her resolve and steered her toward a path Leigh shouldn't take.

  A shiver rattled through her. Leigh brushed away the explosion of goose bumps. The image of an Adam's apple bobbing with each thirst-quenching gulp didn't help. She tried to superimpose teenager Danny on it. Grown up, hot as hell Dan refused to disappear.

  "This is ridiculous," she muttered to herself. She was making something out of nothing.

  Leigh stabbed the papers with one finger and pulled them nearer. The words sank into her pores.

  The first time I saw her, my world changed. She was the light, all that would ever be. My breath, my hope, the path I'd take on the long road to manhood. It was because of her I realized the type of man I wanted to be and, more importantly, the type I didn't want to be. Although, if truth be told, I'd have to give credit to my dad and older brothers for setting a good example for me as well. From them, I learned respect and teamwork. Love was a given--at least in our family. I learned yet again that fateful summer others weren't as fortunate, and it damn near broke my heart.

  Leigh's hand shook as she flipped the page. She steadied herself with another sip of wine. It didn't help. She couldn't get a good breath. One part of her continued to fear reading on; another part couldn't wait to read the next word.

  She was blonde with eyes that said, "I love you." Big eyes that could swallow a person whole, if that person had a decent soul. I've been sucker for blondes with big eyes ever since...more or less. Even I have standards, which I admit are fairly easy to please when it comes to dogs. I was six years old. She was the runt of a litter of eight. I named her Goldie. Go figure.

  Leigh laughed. It was the dash of reality she needed. She remembered Goldie very well. The little cock-a-poo followed Dan wherever he went.

  More firsts came with the responsibility of adopting my little canine friend. I'd like to say I cherished every one, but I was only six years old. Goldie forgave my missteps. I forgave hers--never leave Star Wars action figures out where a pup can chew them. Goldie taught me that sometimes the best course of action is retreat. That when all else fails, take a nap. That you've got to take the time in life to sniff the grass. She'd fight a grizzly if she thought I was threatened. Truth is, I would have fought one for her. One thing I couldn't fight for her was old age.

  Tears welled up. Leigh knew where this was going. Her heart clenched at the memory.

  When you spend every minute with someone, it's easy to miss the subtle changes that occur. That's how it was with Goldie. She looked thinner. I realized she'd drink a lot, but food didn't seem to set well anymore. By the time we realized she was sick, it was too late. She was close to ten years old. I was on the cusp of being sixteen, caught in between a kid and a man. I did what any man would do for someone he loved; at least I'd like to think so. Goldie passed on in my arms. The last words she heard were me telling her how very much I loved her. And then I cried, harder than I thought it was possible for anyone to cry.

  Leigh let her tears fall unrestrained. The emotion was raw and fresh, even for someone who hadn't been there.

  Goldie's loss hit the whole family hard. Friends, too. She was a much-loved pup. We scattered her ashes throughout the neighborhood, hitting all the places she loved to visit with me. The grief stayed. It was another blonde with big eyes who helped me get through it. She kept me busy that summer. She let me share my grief and get it out. Lemonade and long talks. Backyard barbeques and ice cream sundaes. My friend, my confidante, my advisor, my strength. She was friendship and love, married to a man who was everything but.

  I cursed the day he revealed his true self. I'd never wanted to hurt a person more and I was seconds away from going over there myself to let the son of a bitch have it. But she found them first. I felt her pain, then felt her power and cheered her on. I knew then this was a woman to cherish. The kind of woman who'd fight grizzlies for someone she loved and wouldn't take shit from anyone. The kind of woman I'd want for myself. What I didn't realize was that I'd be walking back into her life years later. It was the first time all over...only better.

  I couldn't tell her then how much she meant to me, how much she influenced my life. I didn't have the words then or the life experience to know how to tell her that. But I have it now and I'm going to tell her, because there's one other thing Goldie taught me--never miss an opportunity. This is mine.

  Leigh stared at the words and tried to figure out exactly what they meant. The bold strokes rolled across the paper in homage to her, thanking her for the friendship they'd once had.

  The kind of woman I'd want for myself.

  Why did it feel like Dan was staking a claim on her? Why did she want him to? Her body ached for possession. To be swept off her feet and laid out for loving. Fingers and lips seeking out those places longing for attention. Holding her captive and...

  Leigh gulped down her wine and shoved away from the table to get a third glass. Something, anything to deaden the ache in her pussy. She would not make herself come thinking of Dan Jefferson. He was a kid. Her former lawn boy. What would his parents say? What would the world say?

  She forced the image of Danny the teenager into her head. Again, it refused to stay. It was Dan the man who usurped him every time. Dan with the sharp brown eyes. Dan with broad shoulders and
strong arms a woman could cling to. Dan with those big hands, long fingers that zipped across the paper with ease. Leigh could easily imagine how they'd feel stripping her naked and roaming over her body. She could imagine it too well.

  Leigh wandered back to the table and stared down at the paper. The kind of woman I'd want for myself. She snickered at her foolishness. It was rather like saying I want a woman just like my mom. The whole essay was rather innocent now that she looked at it objectively. Dan was thanking her, or was going to. Nothing wrong there. She was the one making something out of nothing at all simply because she'd gotten the juice-churning hots for the man before she realized who he was.

  Now that she'd put things into proper perspective, she could bring herself under control. Thank God, she had the wall of student-teacher to shore up her resolve. He was no different that Lois, or Blondie, or any other person she'd taught. Her professionalism would keep her in line. They could re-establish a friendship within those parameters. Perhaps even have a laugh down the line over her rampaging hormones.

  Very bad idea.

  True, better to leave it untouched. Besides, he'd do this class and move on to the next. Their paths were likely never to cross again. Odd how the thought make her sad.

  "Too much wine." She poured glass number three back into the bottle. It was late and she had an American Lit class in the morning.

  She stacked the papers, put them in her English Comp folder, then returned the wine to the refrigerator and washed the glass. She'd showered and dressed for bed shortly after she'd gotten home that night--a delaying tactic while she'd pondered Dan's work. All her stewing made her feel a little silly in retrospect. At least she'd learned the lesson on her own and not made a fool of herself in public.