by Cindi Myers
Thoughts of that encounter led to anticipation of her plans for tonight. She could hardly wait to see Dylan’s reaction when she told him what she had in mind. Even she couldn’t believe she was going to be so daring.
With a sigh, she forced her attention back to the papers. She had work to do and she couldn’t let thoughts of Dylan keep her from it. Hadn’t she purposely stayed away from him for the past week, in an attempt to get her life back on an even keel? When she’d come up with the idea of reenacting all those old fantasies, she’d never imagined it would be so…distracting.
After slogging her way through four papers in an hour, she was ready to give up. Maybe she should call him and suggest they meet earlier….
A knock on the door startled her. She looked up and thought for a moment her imagination had gotten the better of her. Dylan was standing in the doorway, dressed in a blue suit, his tie loosened at his throat, a briefcase in his hand. Her heart raced and she smiled and rose from her chair. “Dylan!”
His smile hit her with one hundred watts of sex appeal. Her knees went weak and she had to sit down again. She remembered now why she’d been avoiding him. When he was around, she couldn’t think clearly. Not a good sign when the whole point was to keep their relationship casual.
Or as casual as it could be considering they were having the most mind-blowing sex of her life. “Dylan, hello. What are you doing here?”
“I need your help with something.” He sauntered to her desk and set the briefcase alongside her student papers. “I have to come up with a slogan for my campaign posters. I thought—you’re an English teacher—you’re good with words. And I’m desperate.”
She laughed. “How many times did I hear those words when we were kids? You were always desperate for help with your homework.”
“And you were always willing to help.” He grabbed a chair, pulled it alongside her desk and sat facing her. “Come on. If you don’t help, I’ll be stuck with the slogan Troy Sommers came up with.”
“You asked Troy Sommers before you asked me?” She faked a hurt look.
“Troy’s my campaign manager. But he sucks at slogans.”
“So what did he come up with?”
A pained look crossed his face. “Do It With Dylan.”
She choked back laughter. “Oh, my—that’s really bad.”
“Troy thinks it’s young and hip. I tried to tell him it’s just stupid. He challenged me to come up with something better, but so far, I’ve failed.”
“Maybe we should focus on the issues. What platform are you running on?”
He frowned. “I just want to do the best job I can for the kids, but Troy convinced me we have to have something the public can latch on to, so we settled on the idea that in my administration I intend to focus on the educational needs of the students—a focus on fundamentals with more money in the budget for libraries and computer labs, as well as some freebie things like public recognition of students’ contributions to the community and appointment of student liaisons to work with the school board.”
Taylor let out a low whistle. “Ambitious.”
He grinned. “Not too much, I hope.”
“No. I like your ideas. A lot of voters will, too.” She shifted into a more comfortable position. “One exercise I do with my students is brainstorming.” She opened a desk drawer and took out a legal pad. “We write down whatever comes to mind. It doesn’t matter how silly it is, the idea is to come up with a lot of material to work with.”
“At this point, I’m willing to try anything.”
She picked up a pen. “Okay, so ‘Do It With Dylan’ is out. How about ‘Dylan Gets It Done’?”
“Or ‘A Done Deal With Dylan.’”
“‘Dylan Does It Right.’”
He nodded. “Or ‘Dylan Does It Left,’ depending on your political views.”
“‘Don’t Delay—Vote Dylan Today.’”
“‘Decide On Dylan.’”
“‘Dylan For Destiny.’”
He made a pantomime of sticking his finger down his throat. “I’m beginning to hate my own name.”
She studied the sheet of paper. “We could go with your last name. ‘Get With Gates’ or ‘Go With Gates.’”
He made a face. “Worse.” He craned his neck to study the paper. “Maybe I’ll give Troy a list and let him choose. ‘Dylan Gets It Done’ doesn’t sound quite as horrible as the rest.”
She laughed and pushed the paper away. “I can see neither of us has a future on Madison Avenue.”
“That’s all right.” He leaned back in the chair, relaxed. “I’m happy to stick it out in Cedar Creek for the next fifty years or so.”
Her throat tightened at this reminder that he would be staying here while she was going away. No matter how much she tried to live in the moment, some reminder of the future always intruded, didn’t it? “Are you getting settled in downtown?”
“Finally. I hired a secretary and that’s helped.”
“Oh? Who did you hire?”
“Anita Brandtley. She used to be a clerk in the judge’s office, so she has legal experience.”
“I had Anita in my class my first year teaching here. She’s a very nice girl. Very smart, too.”
He nodded. “I think she’ll work out. And I’m starting to get a few cases, so I guess I won’t starve.”
“Speaking of starving…” She glanced at the clock, startled to find it was already five-thirty. “I didn’t have lunch. Would you like to go somewhere and get a bite to eat?”
“Sure. We can go out to dinner, then swing by the drive-in. There’s no need to take separate cars.”
She hesitated. Her idea to spend as little time with him as possible wasn’t working out. But really, there was nothing wrong with two friends having dinner together, was there? “Let’s go in my car. I’ll bring you back to your truck later.”
“All right. I’ll let you chauffeur me around.”
She stood and gathered up the student papers and some other work she needed to take home. “Where do you want to go?”
“I saw a place last night, out on the highway. Mama Lena’s?”
She nodded. “I’ve been there before. It’s good.”
It had been a while since she’d been to Mama Lena’s however, and she’d forgotten how blatantly romantic the little Italian bistro was. From the private booths and red-shaded candles to the soft violin music playing in the background, Mama Lena’s was a classic “date” restaurant. This being Friday night, it was packed with couples eating out before the big game.
As they stood in the foyer, waiting for their table, Taylor was aware of dozens of eyes focused on them. No doubt everyone was speculating what the teacher and the lawyer were up to. She raised her chin and focused her eyes straight ahead. Let them wonder. Their wildest imaginings couldn’t come close to the truth this time.
“Hello, Dylan. Taylor.”
“Good to see you, Dylan. You, too, Taylor.”
“Good luck with your campaign.” People greeted them from all sides as they followed the hostess toward an empty booth. Dylan smiled and shook hands while Taylor held back. Was this sudden friendliness because of Dylan or merely because people were curious?
She settled herself across from Dylan in the booth and opened the menu. “No one would know you’ve been away ten years,” she said. “People still love you.”
“I’ve renewed a lot of old friendships since I came back.”
Did she imagine the significance of the look he gave her? She looked down at the menu, not really seeing anything listed there. “I think you’re a shoo-in to win the election.”
“Nothing is certain in politics or so they tell me.” He closed the menu and set it aside. “I’m excited about the election, though. It’s what I’ve always wanted—to come back here and be involved in things. I couldn’t really do that in L.A. Things are on too large a scale there.”
“It is easier to be a part of things in a small town.” She took a sip of wat
er. “But it can be harder, too. Once you’re labeled as a certain type of person—a troublemaker or a do-gooder or whatever—it’s difficult to break out of that mold.”
He frowned. “Is that why you’re leaving? Because you think you’ve been labeled?”
“I’m the Wild Woman. The California Girl.” She shrugged. “I’m not even saying I don’t deserve the reputation.”
“Of course you don’t deserve it.” The vehemence in his voice startled her. “Besides, you’re not a girl anymore. You’re a talented woman. A teacher. Someone with a lot to offer this town.”
His praise made her feel soft inside. Vulnerable. She looked away. “I’ll admit, people have paid a lot more attention since I was awarded the fellowship to Oxford. There was even a write-up in the paper.”
“That’s important, isn’t it? For people to notice you? To respect your accomplishments?”
“Everyone likes to be thought well of.”
The waitress came and took their orders. When they were alone again, Taylor studied Dylan through veiled lashes. What would he do after she was gone? A man as handsome and charming as him wouldn’t be alone for long. Which woman would he end up with? Would he do with her the things he did with Taylor?
She reached for her water glass, wanting to drown out the thoughts. Sadness dragged at her and sudden tears stung her eyes. Why had she ever taken that path? Time to think of happier thoughts. “Have you been out to the old drive-in since you got back in town?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. Until you told me, I figured it had been torn down.” He grinned. “I’m looking forward to seeing it again tonight. With you.”
She leaned toward him, her smile purposely seductive. “I’ve got very special plans for us tonight. Something you’ll like, I promise.”
“I’d like anything with you, Taylor. You ought to know that by now.”
His words were an arrow, piercing her heart. She squeezed her eyes shut. No, she thought. Don’t get all serious and romantic now. I can stand anything but that.
11
AS SOON AS THEY were in the door of the cottage, Mindy fell onto the bed with Clay, their bodies entwined. His kisses left her dizzy. Delirious. She grabbed at his shirt, pulling it free of his pants. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
“So are you.” He shoved the sweater up over her bra, then shoved the bra down, framing her breasts in fabric. Cupping her in his hands, he kissed first one breast and then the other, licking and suckling, teasing her distended nipples with his tongue until she was incoherent with need.
She grabbed at his tie, tugging vainly at it, trying to loosen the knot. He raised his head and jerked it loose, then sent it sailing across the room. It was followed quickly by his shirt, the starched white cotton billowing and floating like a kite before settling to the floor.
She wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him close, savoring the feel of her breasts against his chest.
He rolled them over onto their sides and glided his hand up her leg, up under her skirt and across her thigh, coming to rest between her legs. “You’re soaking wet,” he growled.
“Maybe you should do something about that.” Eyes locked to his, she raked her fingernail up the length of his zipper, watching as his eyes dilated and darkened with arousal.
With a grunt, he rolled away from her and stood. With a few swift movements he stripped off socks, shoes, belt, pants and underwear, until he was standing in front of her, naked. She lay back against the pillows, sighing with satisfaction. He was gorgeous, in the way a man should be—all hard planes and muscle. There was nothing flashy or phony about him, but he was one hundred percent sexy male.
She rolled over onto one hip and lowered the zipper on her skirt. He watched, mesmerized, as she stripped out of shoes, hose and shirt. “I can see my fantasies didn’t do you justice,” he said, kneeling beside her.
“So you were fantasizing about me? But you never let on.”
“I didn’t think a young woman like you would be interested in an old man like me.”
“You’re not old.”
“I’m fifteen years older than you. And I’m your boss.”
“If I cared about that, I wouldn’t be here now.”
He sat beside her, one hand caressing her hip. “Now probably isn’t the best time to bring this up, but you do realize us being here together could cause problems.”
Her breath caught. “What kind of problems?”
“People might think I was granting you special favors.”
She let her gaze rest on his impressive erection. “I’m hoping you’ll grant me lots of special favors.”
“Besides those.”
She looked him in the eye again. “I don’t see why either one of us has to behave any differently at school than we do now.”
He frowned. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, there’s nothing wrong with keeping our relationship to ourselves.” She stroked her hand down his arm. “Cedar Creek is a hotbed of gossip, so why open ourselves up to that? We can still see each other. We just need to be…discreet.”
“You mean, we’ll have to sneak around.”
“It could be…exciting. Don’t you think?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know what to think.”
She slid her hand up his thigh and came to rest around his penis. “Then don’t think anymore. Just feel.”
He reached for her, but she pushed him back. “Wait. Get my purse.”
He retrieved her purse from the bedside table and handed it to her. She opened it and took out the condom.
“You think of everything.” He slid down to lie beside her. “That’s a big turn-on, you know? A woman who takes charge.”
“I’ll have to remember that.” She pulled him to her and they kissed again. A long, deep, searing kiss she felt with every part of her body. It was a kiss that telegraphed urgent need, but spoke of a willingness to wait. To drag out their pleasure to its most satisfying end.
She broke the kiss and smiled at him. “So you like a woman who takes charge?”
He nodded.
She pushed him onto his back. “Like this?” She straddled his thighs, her legs spread wide, exposing herself completely to him.
He looked up at her, eyes dark with passion, focused on her swaying breasts. “I could get used to this.”
She bent and kissed his chest, circling his nipple with her tongue, feeling it tighten against her mouth. She did the same to the other nipple, his breath hard and fast in her ear. She stroked her hand down his stomach, the muscles tightening at her touch, and trailed her fingers to his hot, hard shaft.
When she touched him, he groaned, the blatant need in the sound sending melting heat through her. She wrapped her hand around him, sliding up and down, feeling him pulse in her hand.
With her other hand, she found the condom and tore the packet with her teeth. Carefully she sheathed him, already anticipating him inside her.
He grasped her hips and helped guide her over him. She moaned as he filled her, feeling herself tense around him, caressing him. Then they were both moving, thrusting and withdrawing, their movements no longer languid and in control. She planted her hands on his chest and rode him hard, driving herself onto him, desire ripping through her, spiraling upward.
She screamed as her climax took her and he grasped her bottom and drove into her once more, letting out a guttural cry as he came. She collapsed onto him and they clung together, panting, dazed and sated.
She closed her eyes and smiled. What did it matter if they had to keep their relationship secret, if they had this?
“I CAN’T BELIEVE they haven’t torn this place down,” Dylan said as Taylor guided the car across the rutted lot of the old drive-in.
“It’s been for sale for a number of years. There’s talk now of preserving it as some kind of historical landmark.”
“It’s a landmark, all right.” He looked around, at the leaning speaker stands and the f
aded screen stretching to the sky in front of them. “I had a lot of fun times here. When I was a kid, my parents would load all of us into the back of my dad’s truck with a bunch of pillows and quilts. We’d play on the playground until the movie started, then pile up in the truck to watch the show. When I was little, I’d be asleep before the first reel ended.”
“And when you were older, did you come out here with girls?”
He raised his hands. “I plead the fifth on that one.” He glanced at her. “What about you? Did you come out here with boys?”
She shook her head. “No one ever asked me.”
Her voice was matter-of-fact, but his chest tightened as she said the words. I should have asked you, he thought. Why didn’t I?
She pulled the car to a stop in the front row, a few feet from the remains of a rail fence that separated the area directly under the screen from the rest of the lot. She shut off the engine and unfastened her seat belt.
“Now what?” He turned toward her, anticipation setting his nerves on edge. Whatever she had planned for them, he had no doubt it would be enjoyable.
She took her diary from her purse and handed it to him. “Read the page I’ve marked.”
He reached up and flipped on the map light, then opened the diary to a page she’d marked with a few inches of ribbon. “December eighth. Is that the right entry?”
She nodded. “Read it out loud.”
He squinted at the page and cleared his throat. “I swear, the people in this school must be on drugs or something. How else do they come up with such crazy ideas? When I got to my locker today, Alyson couldn’t wait to ask me how I liked the show Saturday night.
“I’ll admit, I fell right into her trap. ‘What show?’ I asked.
“‘The movie, silly!’ She punched my arm. Actually punched my arm! She’s lucky she didn’t draw back a nub!” He laughed and glanced at her. “You were a feisty thing, weren’t you?”
“Only in my thoughts.” She nodded toward the diary. “Keep reading.”