Caitlyn Willows: Dean's List

That earned her laughter from the room, and a little more of Dan's already captivated heart.

She handed a paper to a guy on the first row. "This paper is my roll call. It's simple. Sign next to your name to indicate you're here. No signature means you're absent. If you're absent without cause three times, it's between you and the admin office."

She wore black flats, gray slacks that loved her curvy hips, and a red blouse that skimmed her torso to perfection. Her long blonde hair swung with every move, mesmerizing, tantalizing, and promising full sensual delight to the man lucky enough to park his fingers in its depths.

"You have a text book. Read it. I won't waste class time reiterating what's in it. If you have questions, ask them. This is a required course, and I know that's why most of you are here." Leigh tucked the small binder on the lectern as she stood behind it, cutting off Dan's view and jerking his daydreams and rampant imagination to a halt. "I want to make this course as entertaining as possible. I know some of you would rather chew ground glass than write. Unfortunately, writing is what you're going to be doing. The process will educate you, and some of you might even enjoy it.

"We'll talk about structure and mechanics as well as the writing process. Maybe even share a few stories. If this is not what you envision or want from your educational experience, there is another, more traditional, English Composition instructor at this facility. Feel free to request a change. My feelings won't be hurt."

She scuffed her hands together, green eyes gleaming. "Let's start. Class is normally two hours with one break halfway through. Tonight I want you all to write about firsts. It can be your first anything, but I'd like it to be about something that had meaning for you. When you're done, give the papers to me. This will allow me to evaluate the class as a whole and the educational needs of the group. Once you're finished, you're free to leave, even if it only took you five minutes to write. I will, of course, be noting how much effort you put into this and it will be reflected on your grade."

Leigh cocked her head. Her hair fell over her shoulder down to her breast. Dan's balls clenched. Oh, for the chance to bare her breasts and tickle that hair over her nipples. To see her lips part on a gasp, feel the tension in her body as she bowed into the caress.

"Questions?"

Let me love you, Leigh. The way I know you want to be loved. I promise you won't regret it.

He'd been waiting for this moment and only tonight realized it. Fate had intervened and brought them together in the right place…and, he prayed, the right time.

"Then let's begin," she said. "Be warned…I wander. After all, I have to do something while you're writing." Again, her smile warmed the room.

Dan's brain shut down. He was half-aware that he'd opened his binder to an unsullied piece of notebook paper. His pen hovered over the top line, waiting for inspiration.

Firsts.

The point touched down. The first time I saw her…

By the time he dotted the last period, only he and the middle-aged woman remained. It was five minutes before eight; he'd been writing for an hour. Leigh stood at the lectern reading what he presumed were the other papers. She looked up when he stood, his treatise in one hand, binder in the other.

Her smile was more hesitant this time, yet still open. Dan wondered if she'd read the roll call sheet and realized their connection. Surely, she couldn't have pieced that a bulked up man was the scrawny next-door neighbor from years before. Now that he had her attention and they were virtually alone, what should he say? Remember me? I used to cut your lawn. We shared lemonade, ice cream, and long talks. And, oh, by the way, I was watching you on the most humiliating day of your life.

His bravado took a nosedive. His newborn erection didn't. Thankfully, his binder guarded him well, just like it had in high school. Some things never change.

"All done?" She reached for his paper, slipping it gently from his grasp.

"It's a little long." Dan felt his cheeks heat. Great, now the rest of him was behaving like he was in high school, finding innuendos where none existed. He hoped Leigh didn't think he was being a smart ass.

"Then it must've been a very happy first." Her smile brightened. Her gaze went right to his name at the top right corner.

Some instinct told him she wanted to ask. He'd save her the trouble. "It's been a long time," Dan said. "We used to be neighbors."

"I remember. Hard to forget the best yard worker I ever had."

There was that. Dan had been dedicated to those lawns under his care. "You made the best lemonade."

"Secret family recipe," they said together, then chuckled.

It was nice to have a safe subject they could hide behind, but safe wasn't going to get Dan what he wanted-her.

"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?"

Her cheeks pinkened as she shuffled all the papers together, but she did keep her gaze on him. "I'm so sorry. College policy forbids any type of fraternization between student and teacher."

"Ah, I see." Dan nodded. "Well, see you tomorrow night." He headed toward the door and lifted a wave her way. She waved back and turned toward the older woman bringing her tome forward.

Not a yes, but not exactly a no either. Rules were rules. If fraternization wasn't allowed between student and teacher, there was little else Dan could do-he grinned-except switch to a different teacher.

Leigh dreaded the first class of the semester. Strangers filled her room with uncertainty. There were a few people she'd taught previously in other classes. Those with whom she'd formed a rapport and they'd fallen into the easy rhythm of an established relationship. It was the getting-to-know-you stage that always put her on edge. It wasn't so bad one-on-one, but in a class of thirty adults-or wannabe adults as the case might be with the blonde faux-Goth girl-it was a daunting task. Still, she pasted on a smile, projected openness, and prayed the transition would be seamless.

Unfortunately, she knew from the start where her first problem lay-the gum-smacking blonde putting it on for the to-die-for man sitting across the aisle from her. The girl, who Leigh suspected had recently graduated from high school and was making a big show of how grown up she was, laid it all out for the man. If she pulled her skin-tight black T-shirt any lower, her boobs would pop out. But the man didn't take the bait. He barely glanced the blonde's way. His eyes-a soft brown that looked like melted chocolate-stared exclusively at Leigh.

Her heart raced at the attention. There was a familiarity to him she couldn't quite place. Had they met before? Surely she'd remember. A man like him wasn't forgettable. His brown hair was military short. Given the population of the area, Leigh tagged him as a Marine, maybe Navy. A former student? No…she'd remember a guy like him. He made the student desk look like it came from a kindergarten class, though, considering the college's funding issues, that could very well be the case. The desks were hardly comfortable, yet there was no hint of complaint from her hunk.

The man reeked of self-confidence and managed to keep his ego in check as far as Leigh could tell. He wore jeans and a pink pullover shirt that looked killer-hot on him.

Now that took guts. Only a strong man could pull off a pink shirt in the good-ole-boy military, or anywhere else for that matter.

The thought made her smile. She forced her gaze away from the lean muscle cutting his biceps and arms, away from his broad shoulders, and long legs. Away from speculating how tall he was, how great it would feel to rest her head on his hard chest. Away from the heat in his eyes that perked up her nipples and stirred the juices deep inside her until they wicked into her panties. And yet her gaze lingered at long fingers on big hands, hands that could cradle a woman, rock a baby in comfort, provide a haven for puppies and kittens. Hands that knew what hard work was all about and wasn't afraid to do it. Callused fingers that would skim a woman's curves and show her what pleasure was all about.