Читать книгу A Case for Romance - Melanie Schuster - Страница 11

A fter the party ended and everyone went home, Johnny was still thinking about Ayanna. He’d insisted on following her home to make sure she got there safely, even though it was kind of superfluous seeing as how it was barely dark and she had Alec and Cameron for protection. He did it anyway and pulled up in the driveway behind them. He watched until they were all in the house safely, and then he punched in her number on his cell phone.

“I told you I was going to call you,” he’d reminded her. She had laughed, the tinkling little giggle that reminded him of spring rain.

“Yes, but I didn’t think you’d be calling from the driveway. You want to come in and have a cup of coffee?”

He had done so at once because it gave him a chance to see her again, even for a little while. He had admired her house and got to observe her easy relationship with the boys up close. Actually, he’d spent more time talking with Alec and Cameron than he had with Ayanna, but it was cool because he liked them. She had raised some fine young men. She’d finally called the evening to a halt because they had to get up early for church the next day. He would see her there since she and Billie and Dakota attended the same church, and he always went with them when he was in town.

Now Johnny was in the media room of Billie’s house, stretched out on one of the big leather sofas. The plasma TV was on ESPN, but he wasn’t watching it. He was thinking about Ayanna’s smile. She’d made an impression on him the first moment he’d seen her at Billie’s wedding. He’d gotten into Chicago the morning of the ceremony, and he’d missed all the festivities leading up to it, so he hadn’t seen the bridesmaids until they were walking down the aisle. Her huge black eyes, the big dimples and her perfect golden brown complexion were all adorable, but he’d thought she was about nineteen or twenty, way too young for him.

After the ceremony he’d found out that Alec and Cameron, who’d played the violin and piano during the ceremony, were her sons. This made him think she was married. By the time he realized she was single, the reception was almost over and he’d hooked up with some tall leggy woman who was into a good time for one night only, which was his style. He remembered, though, watching Ayanna dance the night away with what seemed like every man there. She could dance her butt off, he recalled, in a sexy and alluring but not sleazy way. She was graceful and moved like she’d been doing it all her life.

Billie entered the room and interrupted his thoughts. “Who won the game?”

“Huh?” He turned to look at her. “Who won what?”

She pushed his feet aside and sat down on the end of the couch. “Were you asleep? I asked who won. Aren’t you watching the scores?” she asked as she pointed to the TV.

“No, I was thinking about Ayanna. She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

Billie tilted her head as she looked him over. “If you were any other man on the planet, I’d say you were smitten, but we know that’s not true, don’t we?”

“You don’t know anything, little sister. Where did she learn how to dance like that?”

“She used to be on a dance squad when she was in high school, I think, and she took dance when she was little. She teaches a dance class at a community center near her house. That girl can get down like a pro,” she said. “Wait, I have a DVD from the hospital benefit. Todd asked her to be his partner in this ballroom dance thing. Hold on, let me get it.” Todd Wainwright, Jason’s younger brother, had missed the party because he was at work.

She rose gracefully and went to the wall where the DVDs were stored. “Let’s see…” she murmured. “Oh, here it is. I’ll put it in for you.”

Jason appeared in the doorway as she slipped the disc into the player. “Baby, isn’t it time for you to go to bed? You did a lot today, and I don’t want you to tire yourself out,” he said.

Billie went to him and nuzzled the base of his throat as he wrapped her in his arms. “I was just getting ready to come upstairs. I’m a little tired, but not because I did too much. You did everything for me, as usual.”

Johnny sat up and waved the couple off. “Take your lovey-dovey newlywed expectant-parent selves out of here before I get sick from watching you,” he said.

“Aw, man, don’t hate, participate,” Jason drawled. “This is what you get when you turn in your playa card and start being a real man.” He stopped talking and kissed Billie deeply.

“I’m blind, I’m blind,” Johnny moaned. “Stop doing that, man, that’s my baby sister.”

Billie and Jason shouted with laughter. “I might be your sister, but I’m his wife. This is what married life is like.”

“Yeah, well I may never know. Good night. Please, good night, sleep well, etcetera. By the way, speaking of sisters, where is yours?” He pointed at Jason as he spoke.

“She hooked up with some quarterback or whatever. We might not see her until tomorrow,” Jason answered. “See ya.”

Johnny pumped his fist in the air as the couple left. “Thank you! Now I can have some peace.” He pushed play on the DVD player and was immediately transfixed by what he saw on the high definition screen. “Oh damn, I could be in serious trouble,” he murmured as he watched Ayanna come into view. “But it’s just the kind of trouble I like.”

Ayanna was thinking about the events of the day as she got ready for bed. The party was wonderful, just like any gathering with Billie’s family. They had to be the sweetest people she’d ever met. Dakota’s in-laws and Billie and Dakota’s parents were just delightful. And what could you say about Johnny Phillips? He was every woman’s dream—tall, intelligent, funny and kind and his looks were off the chart. Too bad he was way out of her league. Men like Johnny ended up with women like his sisters: Billie, the former supermodel who was now making her mark in the construction business, and Dakota, the Pulitzer prize-winning author who’d also won an Oscar for screenwriting. Yes, with sisters like that, he’d look for a doctor, a CEO or even a lawyer, since that was his profession. Standards had been set pretty high in the Phillips family.

She was in her bedroom, taking a last look in the mirror before getting in the shower. A pleasant face looked back at her. Her skin was good; her hair was passable, although it wasn’t long and cascading like the Phillips women. I guess I could get a fifteen-hundred-dollar weave like Davina, she thought. She made a face at her reflection. No need to take a swallow of haterade. You are what you are.

She took off the cute celery-green cotton sweater she’d worn with a pair of light-colored jeans and a pair of stylish little yellow flats from Payless. She laughed as she took off the shoes to put them in the closet. She couldn’t see Johnny Phillips with a woman who scouted for clothes on clearance at Target and shoes from the Payless buy one, get one sales. She wasn’t a high-powered executive or someone of national prominence. She was a single mother with an office job who had to pinch pennies hard to make sure her sons were well-fed, nicely clothed, safe and secure. And that her bills were paid on time. She didn’t drive a luxury car, unless a five-year-old PT Cruiser was in that category. Her house was sparkling clean and charming, but almost everything had been done by her two hands, assisted by the boys. Nope, she was not his glass of champagne, not by a long shot.

She finished undressing and took a long shower. It was the only way she could be sure to get some hot water because the boys would monopolize it the next morning before church. Sighing as the sweet scent of her bath gel filled her nostrils, she thought again about how much fun she’d had with Johnny. She loved his irreverent humor and outrageous flirting; she was so busy being a mom she’d forgotten how much fun it could be. Ayanna could be shy with people she didn’t know, but her acquaintance with Johnny and his family made him feel safe and familiar. For a brief moment she wished with all her heart that she was more than what she was. She wished she was the kind of woman who could attract a man like Johnny for real.

Ayanna couldn’t wait to get to church the next morning to pray for forgiveness. The dreams she’d had the night before were so vivid and explicit that she’d awakened sweaty, trembling and moist in places that should have been bone dry. And “Ramon” was not the star attraction that night. He’d been replaced by someone taller, broader of shoulder and chocolate brown with a clean shaven head. She didn’t need an advanced degree in psychology to know what that was about. She kicked the covers off and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was 5:00 a.m. She sat up groggily and tossed aside the wrinkled bedclothes. She needed another shower to wash away all traces of her drastically misplaced erotic desires.

She scrubbed herself from head to toe, using her nylon bath puff like a weapon. When she washed her small, firm breasts and the sensitive area between her legs, she was dismayed to find them tender and responsive to her touch, as though the wild sex of her dream was real. To shake off all vestiges of her nocturnal fantasies, she lowered the temperature of the shower until it was quite cool. She had to stifle a scream, but she ran the cold water over her body resolutely and thoroughly. If anyone knew what she’d been thinking, she’d die of shame.

Okay, that’s a little dramatic, she admitted as she toweled herself dry. But the things they had done to each other in that dream were so vivid and so wild! I’ve got to leave those romance novels alone. No more Brenda Jackson, Maureen Smith or Altonya Washington for her. And definitely no more Adrianne Byrd! The books she read were well-written, delightfully sensual and they’d been her obsession ever since she discovered African-American romance. She had so many of the books that she had to catalog them.

The newest ones were in her to-be-read pile next to the bed. Her favorites took a place of honor in her bedroom bookcase. The older books were in boxes under her bed, each box labeled with a sheet that told the name and author of each book. She sighed heavily as she made her bed, still wrapped in her towel. It was pathetic enough that her sex life was confined to reading the delicious love scenes the authors so generously provided her in their fascinating books, but when her loneliness—and yes, her unfulfilled desires—made her include a real live man in her dreams, well, it was time for a change.

I’m the one who needs help, she thought. Maybe there’s some kind of herbal thing I can get at the health food store to cool my jets. She had to laugh out loud at that thought. It wasn’t that serious. She just needed to exercise more. That would work out those urges quite nicely. She could teach another dance class; it would give the boys more time at the rec center, which they would enjoy. Problem solved. No more crazy dreams about having wild sex in the middle of a bed with red satin sheets with a chocolate hunk of man for her. She would exercise that man right out of her thighs, that’s what she would do.

She looked around, realized that she’d made the bed, rearranged her dresser and organized her closet. And she still had over thirty minutes before the boys’ alarm would go off. Okay, she’d put on her underwear and a robe and go make some cinnamon rolls for a surprise. Keeping busy was the answer. If she just kept busy and kept her mind focused on productive things, she had no doubt that her current state of constant longing would dissipate. It was a good plan that only took a few hours to blow up in her face.