by Peggy Webb
“A girl?” Lucky beamed at her. “Honey, why didn't you tell me sooner... me, the father of a sweet little girl with pink ribbons in her hair.... How did you know, honey?”
“A mother-to-be just knows these things.”
“Good grief. I give up.” Martha Ann leaned her head against the backseat of the car.
By the time they were nearly to her house in Fulton, she had revived herself. She leaned over the seat again.
“Listen, Lucky. I like you—always have. It hurts me to see you keep doing this. And I hate what your leaving does to my sister.”
Lucky reached for his wife's hand and lifted it to his lips. “I don't like to keep doing it, but I can't seem to help myself.” He squeezed Evelyn's hand and shot her an affectionate glance. “That's why I've decided to enroll in Gamblers Anonymous.”
“Oh, Lucky...”
“I was going to suggest that myself.” Martha Ann chuckled. “Actually, I was going to insist, with a fencing sword if necessary.”
Evelyn's laughter was shrill with relief and joy. “She's just teasing, honey. Martha Ann's really a sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. The word burned through Martha Ann and seared her soul.
Where was Rick McGill now? Had he stayed behind in Las Vegas or had he caught the first plane out? She hadn't seen him again after he'd brought Lucky to her room. Had it only been since six o'clock this morning? It seemed like forever.
Three hours after Rick had left them the clerk at the front desk had called to say her tickets were ready, and now there she was, back in Mississippi with her sister's runaway husband and a broken heart.
The first thing she was going to do when she got home was buy a new rosary. She had a lot to talk over with the saints.
“Did you hear what I said?”
Martha Ann realized Evelyn was talking to her. “What?”
“I said, we're going to name the baby Lucy Ann, after you.”
“Evelyn!” Tears came to her eyes. “I don't know what to say.”
“Well, I didn't mean to make you cry. Lucky, say something funny, honey, I've gone and made my sister cry.”
Martha Ann sniffed loudly and waved her hand in airy dismissal. “It's not you, Evelyn. I'm just tired, that's all.”
o0o
She was still tired a week later. She had no idea jet lag lasted so long. That's what she had called it all week. Jet lag. It was easier to deal with than broken heart.
She threw her uneaten toast out to the birds and scraped her half-eaten eggs down the garbage disposal. Then she went into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror.
The Bride of Dracula. That's who she looked like. She would probably scare her summer school students half to death. She squinted and contorted her eyes. Eye exercises. She'd read in a magazine at the beauty shop that every woman over thirty-five needed to do them.
She opened her eyes and looked at herself. She didn't see a darned bit of improvement. That just went to show that she couldn't believe every fool thing she read. The only good thing that had come out of that silly exercise was that she had forgotten about Rick McGill for all of three minutes.
Good. It was a start.
She picked up her briefcase and headed toward the campus of Itawamba Community College.
o0o
Rick McGill stood in his office staring at the letter. He had been staring at it for the last five minutes.
Rick,
I want to thank you for helping me find Lucky O'Grady. As soon as I receive your bill, I will send payment in full. By the way, just so you won't think my sister is a sleazy woman, I want you to know that Lucky is really my brother-in-law. I posed as my sister because I thought it would be best that way.
Kind regards, Martha Ann Riley
Kind regards. The knot he'd been carrying in the pit of his stomach for the last week pulled itself a little tighter. After all they'd been through together, all she could write was kind regards.
He threw the letter onto his desk and began to pace. After Martha Ann had left Las Vegas, he'd stayed a week longer to take care of his burned-out plane. Dealing with the insurance adjuster had helped keep that conniving woman off his mind. But now he was home, and thoughts of her were back in full force.
He stalked over to the desk and jerked the letter up. She wanted to pay in full, did she? Well, why not oblige the little lady?
He tore across his office, hung the “Out to Lunch” sign on his door, got in his car, and roared off toward Fulton. It was a small town. One conniving history professor shouldn't be too hard to find.
o0o
It was three o'clock when he found her.
She was standing at the front of her classroom, writing on the board. Rick leaned against the door-jamb and watched her. She was wearing a flirty little dress with a peplum that bounced when she moved. Her hair was as black and shiny as he remembered, and it swung with every movement of her head.
The knot in his stomach loosened a little, and his mouth quirked up at the corners.
“Your first assignment will be to read this chapter.”
The chalk squeaked as she scrawled the page numbers on the board. When she moved from behind the desk, Rick saw that she was wearing spike heels and hose with seams down the back. She looked like something out of the forties, and he had never been able to resist anything about the forties.
The quivering at his mouth became a full-fledged smile.
“Are there any questions?” Martha Ann turned to face her class.
That neon billboard Rick had been looking for suddenly lit up like a Fourth-of-July fireworks display. He was head-over-heels-by-George-crazy in love with Martha Ann Riley. His longtime goal of staying free till he was fifty vanished. Had it been a goal or just an excuse? It didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was love—and doing something about it.
He stepped away from the door and drawled, “Do I get extra points if I kiss the teacher?”
The students twittered.
Martha Ann put her hand over her heart. It was pounding so hard at the sight of that him that if he came one step closer she'd make a fool of herself on the very first day of summer school, right in front of her entire class. She stepped back and clutched the edge of her desk for support.
“You'll have to leave, Mr. McGill. This class is in session.”
“So am I, sweetheart. And this time I won't take no for an answer.” With slow, deliberate movements, he stalked her.
There was a hushed silence in the room, and then a student in the back of the class shouted, “Dr. Riley, will this be on our first test?”
Bedlam broke loose. The girls giggled, and the boys whooped and hollered and clapped their hands. A few of the braver ones shouted encouragement to Rick.
“We're on your side, Mr. McGill.”
“Hey, did you see the teach blush? I think she likes you.”
“I think I'm going to love History 101.”
Martha Ann stuck out her chin and tried to take control. “This class is dismissed.” There was a general charge for the door. “And don't forget to read your assignment.”
“What's my assignment, teach?” Rick McGill propped one lean hip on her desk and smiled at her.
“To go back where you came from.”
“Sweetheart, I'm afraid it's too late for that.”
“Why?” Her knees were weak, her heart was fluttering, and she was whispering.
“Because, my pet...” He straightened up and walked around the desk. Putting one hand on her chin, he tipped her face up to his. “... I'm in love.”
Martha Ann wanted to scream. She wanted to melt all over him like an ice-cream cone left too long in the hot sun, and she wanted to bash him with her history book.
“Give the lady my congratulations.”
His big boom of laughter echoed around the now-empty classroom.
“You never give up, do you, sweetheart?”
“You've tried everything else to get me into your bed. I'm an intelligen
t woman. Why did you expect to come marching in here and have me fall hook, line and sinker for that story?”
“Because it's true.”
She was speechless. She wanted to believe him, and yet she knew what he was. How could she give herself to an avowed playboy?
“Hold on to that thought, my pet.” He released her, walked to the door, and pushed it shut. The click of the lock sounded loud in the quiet room. Next he walked over to the side of the room and pulled all the window shades down.
She was paralyzed. He was temptation so great, she was panting. A sane, sensible side of her mind told her to resist, and a crazy, impulsive side told her to run, not walk, into his arms.
He saved her the trouble.
As soon as the last shade was down, he strode behind the desk and pulled her roughly against his chest. “Let's see if you've forgotten how to kiss.”
When his lips touched hers, such sweet tenderness swept through her that she thought she would die. Right there in her classroom among the history books and the chalk dust.
“Hmmm.” He lifted his head and smiled at her. “You remembered. I'm so glad.” His mouth came down on hers again.
She was melting, she was turning to butter, she was going to fall to the middle of her hardwood floor. Had there ever been a man as persuasive as Rick McGill? She was certain there hadn't.
“Ahhh...” Her head tipped back. “Don't do this to me.”
His lips skimmed her neck. “We do it to each other.... Sweet, you taste so sweet.” One hand spread across her hips and dragged her closer.
He took her breath away. She curled her hands into his hair and pressed his head down.
“Please, Rick... please.”
“Sweetheart...” With one hand he unbuttoned the front of her dress. “Oh, baby... my sweet pet...”
She knew that classes were over for the day, but fifteen million students could have been banging at her door, the Dean to boot, and she would still have done what she was doing.
“I can... never... love... a conniving rake... ahhhh, please. Do that again.”
He nudged the lace aside and shivers went down her spine. When he took her mouth once more, all the savage hunger of a man who wouldn't be denied was there.
She surrendered. With lips and tongue she encouraged him, moaning and murmuring her pleasure.
He caught her skirt with his hand and inched it upward. When his fingers made contact with naked flesh, Rick chuckled deep in his throat.
“A garter belt, my pet? You delight me.” He spread his palm over her thigh, rubbing it in erotic circles.
The room seemed to whirl around her. Time was suspended. Nothing existed except the exquisite pleasure of Rick McGill.
Finally it wasn't enough—for either of them.
He unhooked her garters and slid her stockings down her legs. They drifted to the floor, and then he slipped off her lace panties.
Her hands fumbled with his belt buckle. “One time,” she whispered. “Just this once... and then...”
His pants hit the floor. “And then forever, sweetheart.”
The sweet jazzy rhythm of love began. All her yesterdays and all her tomorrows came together in one golden hour.
And when it was over, he kissed her until her pulse slowed back to normal. Then he slipped into his pants, picked up her panties and her hose, and dressed her with tender care.
Still kneeling in front of her, he took her hand. “Will you marry me, Martha Ann Riley?”
She put her hands to her flushed cheeks and tried to think straight. But she couldn't. All she could do was stall for time.
“I can't marry you. I don't know you.”
“I'm a lonely old bachelor living in a big old house in Tupelo, but I'm perfectly willing to live anywhere in the world as long as you're there.”
His disarming candor enchanted her. She decided to play his game. “What about your work?”
“I can take it or leave it. I'm what folks call filthy rich.”
“From Colombian emeralds?”
“Yes.”
“And bordellos?”
He tipped back his head and roared with laughter. “Where did you hear that?”
“Somewhere in Tupelo.”
“You're too smart to believe everything you hear.”
“Then it's not true?”
“I've been wicked in my time, but not that wicked. If you promise not to tell anyone...” He leaned closer and kissed her knees. “My bordellos are nothing more than ordinary stocks and bonds. Tame stuff.”
“I can't think when you kiss my knees.”
“Good.” He braced her foot on his knee, pushed up her dress, and planted long, lingering kisses on her inner thigh.
“Please, Rick.”
“Sweetheart, I believe we're going to have to undress you again.” His voice was hoarse and thick as he unsnapped her garter belt. Her hose and panties whispered down her legs.
He stripped off his pants, sat in her swivel chair, and pulled her down on top of him.
She sighed.
When he captured her mouth and her passion spiraled, she knew it would always be that way with them. The chair rocked back and forth, and from time to time threatened to tumble over. They laughed and murmured sweet love words.
Summer dusk fell over the campus, and still Rick and Martha Ann loved. The chair had gotten too confining, and they moved to the floor. It was hard and dusty, but neither of them noticed.
At last Rick propped himself on one elbow and gazed down at her.
“The next time we're going to try this on a soft bed.” He looked ruefully at her half-open blouse and his unbuttoned shirt. “And without any clothes.”
She opened her mouth to speak, and he covered it with his own.
“If you say 'There won't be a next time,' I'm going to spank your bare bottom.”
His words were mumbled against her lips, but she knew exactly what he was saying.
“Rick.”
“What, my pet?”
“You're going to have to let me up. I have a seven o'clock faculty meeting.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“You haven't said yes.”
“I can't say yes—but I can't say no either.”
“That will do.”
He stood up and held out his hand. She pulled herself up and began to straighten her clothes.
“I must look a sight.”
“You look like a woman who has been thoroughly loved.”
“That's what I was afraid of.” She went to her desk and got her lipstick out of her purse. “Good grief. Look at the time.” It was six forty-five. “Rick McGill, you're going to ruin my reputation.”
“All the more reason for agreeing to let me make an honest woman of you.”
She jerked her comb out of her purse and ran it hastily through her hair. “I told you, I'm not going to agree to such a thing. Where are my stockings?”
Grinning, he picked them up off the floor and handed them to her. She quickly put them on and snapped her garters.
“Wow 'em, sweetheart,” he called as she hurried out the door. It banged shut behind her, and he went whistling toward her desk.
A tiny wisp of white caught his eye. “Well, well. What have we here?”
He reached down to her desk and snagged the object between his thumb and forefinger. It was Martha Ann's white lace panties.
Still whistling, he stuffed them into his pants pocket.
o0o
“Dr. Riley?”
She jumped. Good grief, Dr. Bluebakker was scowling at her as if she had circulated copies of his English 205 exam. Could he possibly guess that she was sitting at the faculty meeting without any panties? She bit her bottom lip and tried to get a grip on herself.
“Yes, Dr. Bluebakker?”
“I've asked you three times already what you thought about the Sixth Annual Lecture Series? Do you agree that we should invite that local romance novelist to address our student body?”
Martha Ann perked up. “You mean Peggy Webb? I think she would be an excellent choice. You know, there's been a lot of interest and a lot of good writing in that genre.”
She was feeling proud of herself for holding it all together. She leaned back in her chair and relaxed. “By the way, what's the date for our sex series?”
“Dr. RILEY!” Dr. Raymond Bluebakker looked shocked, but the rest of the faculty burst into laughter.
“Loosen up, Raymond,” Dr. Simeon Jonas said. “We've been in this damned meeting too long anyhow. It's time to go home.”
The meeting broke up after that, and Martha Ann was the first one out the door . She'd kill Rick McGill when she saw him again.
o0o
She couldn't, of course. When he turned up the next morning at her house, all she could do was smile.
He propped one foot on her doorstep and gave her the wickedest grin this side of the Mississippi. “I believe I have something you want.”
She still hadn't made up her mind about him, so she decided to play it cool. “You don't have a thing I can't live without.”
“I would keep 'em, sweetheart, but they're not my size.” Grinning, he pulled her panties out of his pocket.
“If that's not just like you to hold my panties hostage while I'm sitting barebottomed in the faculty meeting.”
“Yes. It's just like me.” He stuffed the panties back into his pocket. “We’ll have to do it more often.”
“We most certainly will not.”
He came up the steps two at a time and pulled her into his arms. “Dr. Riley, my pet, do you know how cute you are when you're playacting?”
“I'm not playacting. I'm darned good and mad.”
“There's but one cure for that.” He bent her over backward and kissed her.
o0o
Old Mrs. Glenell Swan next door was just coming onto her front porch to get her morning paper. When she saw what was going on, she stopped to take it all in. The man was as handsome as any she'd seen on the TV. And there was her neighbor, that cute Martha Ann Riley, dressed in nothing but her pink cotton batiste nightgown and robe, getting kissed like one of those TV soap opera heroines. She looked like she was enjoying it, too.
Mrs. Swan stood there for a while, and when it looked as if they were going to go on all day, she pulled up her lawn chair and sat down so her arthritis wouldn't pain her. She didn't want to miss a thing.