Lessons From a Younger Lover (3 page)

“It's true. I'm not the same quiet girl who graduated years ago. And I'm not that naive girl either. I'm here for two reasons: to take care of my mother and to provide an excellent educational foundation for the students of Sienna Elementary. Those are the only things I plan to focus on in the near future.”

Adam chuckled. “Gwendolyn Andrews. Oops, my bad. Gwendolyn
Smith
. I can't imagine who would have been fool enough to let you go. Are you sure there's no chance for a reconciliation?” Adam asked this question as a formality; he had no plans of letting ex-anybody come between him and what he was sure was his next sexual conquest.

“My divorce plans are final,” Gwen said, now wondering if telling him this part of her personal life during their phone conversation had been a mistake. “But, Adam, regardless of our shared childhood, I'd like to keep my personal life personal, and have this conversation stay focused on what matters. As I said the first time we talked about my coming here, I need this job. My mother is moving into an assisted living complex at the end of the month. And while I'm sure if push came to shove I could find a job in Lancaster, or even LA, and make the commute, that is obviously not what I'd prefer. I appreciate anything you can do to help me get hired here locally.”

Adam licked his lips again.
I have her just where I want her…needing me
. “You know there's nothing I wouldn't do for a former classmate,” he said as he rose from his seat.

“Where are you going?” Gwen asked, confused by Adam's sudden rising.

“Not where I'm going…where
we're
going. I'm getting ready to make those high school dreams of yours come true, girl. I'm taking you out.”

Gwen settled into the soft leather of the fiery red Porsche 911 Carrera. His choice of cars did not surprise her—Adam had always liked living life in the fast lane. She pulled the seat belt over her midsection and brushed the straight auburn locks away from her face. Adam's middle-aged transformation had surprised her, but maybe they could be friends after all.

“Nice car,” she said, once Adam had moved from opening her car door to getting in on the driver's side.

“Ah, it's no big deal.”

“It suits you. You were always fast: on the field, on the courts, with the ladies….”

Adam laughed as he purposely brushed his hand against Gwen's thigh while shifting into reverse. “That was a long time ago,” he said as he put the car in first gear and brushed her thigh again. “I'm much more selective now.”

Gwen shifted her legs away from the gear shaft and tried to relax. Even though he wasn't the fine hunk he once was, this was still
the
Adam Johnson, known for his smooth lines and sexual prowess. More than one classmate had bragged about his powerfully thick…Gwen willed her thoughts away from their strayed course and struggled for safe conversation.

“This city sure has changed,” she ventured.

“Yeah, the more things change, the more they stay the same.”

“How's that?”

Adam shrugged. “There are new businesses and roads and whatnot. The population has doubled. But the narrow-mindedness, attitudes—there hasn't been much change there.”

“You mean old Ms. Disney is still as prejudiced as she used to be?”

“Only with you girls. You know she always liked the brothahs.”

Gwen shook her head. “Yeah, I still remember y'all got away with murder. And if I talked out of turn even once, it was on to the principal's office.”

She became more relaxed as they reminisced about old times and shared memories, people they'd both gone to school with and events they'd experienced growing up in Sienna.

“You remember when O. J. Simpson came to our school? Talked to us about putting education first and taking pride in our community?”

Gwen laughed. “What female who was there could forget that? We didn't sleep for a week!”

“Man, he had it all—money, fame, everybody's respect—and now look where's he at. I bet he didn't imagine this chapter at the end of his life story.”

Gwen shook her head sadly. “I doubt it.”

“I don't feel sorry for him though.”

“Why not?”

“Shoot, the man had nine lives, and used them all. A black man killed two white people and got away with it? Living large on a golf course in Florida? And
still
kept fucking up—excuse me, messing up? I'm glad they finally nabbed his ass in Vegas, and he's doing time. He deserves whatever he gets.”

Gwen looked hard at Adam. It surprised her that a fellow footballer, one who'd been as goo-goo-eyed as anyone when Mr. Simpson made an appearance at their school and singled out Adam as the then star junior high player, would shift his allegiance.

“I don't think he killed Ron and Nicole,” she said after a brief hesitation. “I think he knows who did it, but I don't think it was him. And as for that ‘armed robbery conviction'”—Gwen made quotes in the air with her fingers—“we all know what that was about. O. J. went to prison for what happened in Brentwood, not for what supposedly went down in a Vegas hotel.”

Adam grunted but remained silent. He understood the O. J. effect. It was the same one he used to have on women. It was hard for any estrogen-laden female to believe that someone who made their pussy throb could commit such a crime. That was why there were so many unreported acts of domestic violence. A big dick trumped a lot of wrongs. His bravado returned full force as he turned into the steak house parking lot.

“You really didn't have to do this,” Gwen protested yet again at being taken out to lunch.

“Please, this isn't part of the interview. It's an invite from an old friend.” Adam placed his large hand over her much smaller one and cast puffy bedroom eyes on her lips, yet again licking his own in anticipation of what was to come. “As far as I'm concerned, you've got the job.”

 

An hour and a half later Gwen almost peeled out of the Sienna Elementary School parking lot as she tried to figure out how things had gotten out of hand so quickly. After almost sideswiping an older man in a blue Chevy pickup, she took a deep breath, gripped the steering wheel of her rental car, and forced herself to calm down.

The lunch had started out friendly and average: she'd ordered chopped steak with gravy and mashed potatoes, Adam a T-bone and fries. Their conversation veered from education to politics, and back to mutual people they'd known growing up. They'd enjoyed a civil ride back to the school parking lot…and then Adam had turned into a piranha.

“I'm very excited that you've come back home,” he'd said as he opened the door for her to step out of the borrowed Porsche. He remained close as she stood, barely giving her room to breathe, let alone move.

“Uh, thanks, Adam,” Gwen had replied, trying to ease her small frame through an even smaller exit.

Nothing doing. Adam pinned her against the warm metal and pressed a kiss against the plush, coral-colored lips he'd been eyeing all afternoon.

“Adam!”

“Don't worry, no one can see us from here.” He stepped even closer, his pouch of a stomach pressing into Gwen's midsection and cutting off her air.

“That's not the point,” she said as she angrily pushed him away from her. When his eyes narrowed angrily, she thought of her impending job, and tried to soften her rejection of his affections.

“Look, Adam. You've always been a star with us, you know that. And I'm flattered that after all these years you find me attractive. God knows you never did before,” she added under her breath. But Adam heard.

“Don't hold how stupid I was years ago against me,” he whined, stepping close once again.

Gwen spun out of his embrace and put two additional feet between them. “The past is the past, Adam. And while I'm thankful that you're here and we can establish a friendship, the fact is, I'm still married. The divorce proceedings have been less than cordial, my mother is ill, and quite frankly, romance is the last thing on my mind.”

She smiled and once again tried to smooth ruffled ego feathers. “Let's just be friends…okay? Let me get settled into this new life, have my divorce finalized, get my mother relocated, and then, maybe, I can…think of other things.”

This time, Adam didn't try and hide his brash head-to-toe perusal of Gwen's body. “Yeah, I guess we've got all the time in the world, huh? But I'm coming after you, Gwen
Andrews
. And you know I always get what I come after.”

In what was quickly becoming a nauseating habit for Gwen, Adam licked his lips for the umpteenth time before heading toward the school's side entrance. But LL Cool J he was not, and if it weren't for the fact that her job was on the line, Gwen would have made him aware of this fact and then offered him some Chapstick.

 

Still feeling nervous and annoyed, Gwen ran her hand through her straight, silky bob as she drove down Main Street. She reached a light and noticed a coffee shop on the opposite corner. A locally owned, Starbucks-feeling establishment without the high prices, it was one of the new businesses Adam had mentioned. Hot chocolate had always been a soother of Gwen's spirits. She was a connoisseur when it came to the cacao bean and decided to rate their services. The light turned green and minutes later, Gwen walked into the airy, aromatic establishment.

Meanwhile, Adam steamed, and hot chocolate had nothing to do with it. He knew he was no longer the handsome hunk Gwen may have expected, but he hadn't grown used to being turned down. Especially by former ugly ducklings like Gwen Andrews. How in the heck had she changed so much for the better while his looks had gone to the dogs? Twenty years ago, she would have given him her cherry for a five-minute conversation. And yet here she was telling him to hold on? This was not the turn of events he'd imagined. Heck, he'd never even given a thought to dating Gwen. The high school classmate he remembered was shy, a tad homely, and uneducated in the art of boy-girl relations. One look at her as she walked into his office and his thoughts immediately turned from classroom visits to extracurricular caresses. And she'd told him to wait? Because of a piece of paper and a sick mother? Didn't she know that nobody turned down Adam Johnson…for any reason?

Adam floored the gas pedal and the Porsche roared forward. He swerved between the four other cars around him and took the corner on two wheels. He knew where he could go and get both his ego and libido massaged, and reached for his cell phone to set up the visit.
Gwen probably can't crack a good nut anyway
, he thought, as he imagined her sexual ineptitude. Then he thought of being her teacher in the art of all things erotic, and his desire for her returned.

Ransom glanced at his watch as he turned his Jeep onto Main Street. He had a free half hour before his final meeting of the day, a potential contract with an LA developer who wanted to build a sports complex on the outskirts of the city. Ransom was excited about the meeting. If all went well he'd not only land the Vegas contract, but could network his way into LA construction projects as well.

He honked and waved as he drove, knowing almost everybody he passed. Growing up in a relatively small town could be both a blessing and a curse. The good thing was you knew everybody. The bad thing was everybody knew you. And everybody wanted to know everybody else's business. Even if they didn't know, they acted as if they did, or made something up.

He was just about to make a left at Main and Tenth Street when a tight body in a fitted navy blue suit caught his eye. The sexy stranger was going into Kristy's Coffee Shop and before Ransom knew what was happening, he'd swung from the left turn to center lane, crossed the street, and turned into the small coffee shop parking lot. He'd never been a coffee drinker, but he loved hot chocolate, and the cup of cute he'd seen switching into the small yet socially lively establishment was the kind of cup he craved. He jumped over the door of the Jeep, brushed his hands against his slim fitted jeans, and sauntered toward the door.

At the same time, Gwen was making a hasty exit. Her cell phone had rung just after she'd placed her order with the owner, Kristy McDowell. A worried Mary Walker, Gwen's mother's neighbor for the past twenty years, had first called Lorraine, and then knocked on her door, to no avail. She'd immediately called Gwen, who assured Miss Mary that she'd be there in five minutes. Then she'd dashed out of the coffee shop….

And into the arms of Ransom Blake.

Gwen, who'd been looking down into her purse to fish out car keys, at first thought she'd run into a wall. But walls didn't have strong arms that enveloped her, a chest that pressed against her instantly alert nipples, or a smell like citrus and sandalwood. She looked up, blinked, and willed herself to speak. Her mouth formed an O, but nothing came out. She gulped, knowing the right thing to do would be to pull away from this black Fabio fantasy. But she could not. Was he real? Lord have mercy, was she? At a moment like this, who knew? She could have pinched herself to see if she were dreaming. That is, if she could move. Instead of retreating, she unwillingly and unconsciously leaned further into him.

Ransom took notice of a couple things before he tried to let her go. First, he noticed that the body beneath the conservative blue suit was firm yet supple. He guessed her height at around five-seven or eight, and that the shiny hair that teased her shoulders was her own. She smelled clean, like the air after a rain shower. His manhood instantly leapt to attention, and he knew he should break the embrace before he embarrassed them both.

“I'm sorry,” Gwen muttered, even as she willed her body to step back from the onyx Adonis.

“Are you all right?” Ransom countered.

“Yes,” Gwen stuttered. With sheer determination, she tried to step back. And literally couldn't move. The butterfly brooch that her mother had sworn was the perfect complement to her professional ensemble was hopelessly entangled in the fabric of Ransom's tank top. “Oh, no. I'm sorry. I think I'm stuck.”

“Well, now. Isn't this my lucky day?”

Gwen looked up into eyes as dark as coal, framed by lashes that seemed to reach the tips of his perfectly shaped brows. She dropped her gaze a couple inches and took in a tapered nose, flaring slightly with…desire? An inch or so more and a mouth that said “kiss me…now.” Unlike earlier with Adam, Gwen wanted this man to lick his lips. Heck,
she
wanted to lick them! Gwen closed her eyes before she made a complete fool of herself and focused on the brooch with renewed determination.

“Wait a minute, baby, you're going to tear my top off me if you keep that up,” Ransom said, his voice tinged with laughter. “Of course, I could think of worse fates for this old rag.” His voice lowered and softened. “And believe me, someone who looks and smells as good as you don't have to tear nothing. I'll gladly come out of anything you want me to.”

Gwen's breath caught in her throat. This man whose name she did not know had her wet and trembling before God and everybody, on Main Street, in broad daylight, in the heart of their small town! But even as he aroused her, he relaxed her. He delivered an obvious line in a way that didn't seem pretentious. It felt, well, she thought it was cute.

“I'm sorry,” she said, still trying to untangle a golden wing from his red nylon. “I wasn't looking where I was going….” Despite her resolve to remain calm, she was ready to either snatch her brooch out of this man's material or throw his body into the backseat of her car and then herself on top of him!

“The way I see it,” Ransom said calmly as he worked to undo the brooch from his shirt, “fate has dealt us a telling hand. Maybe since we're
stuck on each other
, we should go out on a date.”

Gwen knew the man had just said something, but she was having trouble getting her mind to connect with her mouth. She had the almost irresistible urge to run her fingers through his long, silky hair. Just as her legs began to tremble and her hand reached for a strand, Ransom untangled the last piece of mesh from the butterfly.

“I always did like butterflies,” he said as he straightened the lapel of Gwen's summer suit. “Now they hold even more meaning.”

It was Gwen's turn to lick suddenly dry lips. She realized she could stare at this man for hours and listen to him all day. Then she remembered Mrs. Walker's phone call, and her mother.

“I've got to go,” she snapped as she stepped around Ransom and ran to her car.

Intrigued, Ransom stared after her, eager to find out more about this obvious newcomer to the town of Sienna. She had class and poise, something rare in the females he encountered around town. For some inexplicable reason, Ransom felt driven to make sure they keep the date he'd suggested in a lighthearted fashion. It wasn't until he entered the coffee shop that he recognized the problem in making that happen: he didn't know her name.

 

Adam sat at the corner of Tenth and Main—pissed. The same woman who had pushed him off her and hid under the cover of her marital status was practically mauling his half brother in broad daylight. She looked anything but unavailable as she held on to his red mesh top and gazed up into Ransom's eyes while his brother brazenly palmed her breasts. They'd stayed cuddled up the entire time it took the light to change, finally breaking apart as he made a left-hand turn toward the highway. But ten minutes later, as he pulled into the parking lot of the old yet stylish apartment turned condominium complex, his mind wasn't on the sex he felt sure awaited him just inside Joanna Roxbury's place. It was on Gwen Andrews Smith, the fake-ass bitch who'd tried to play hard to get. Well, he was hard all right. And he knew at that moment he wouldn't be satisfied until he'd shared that hardness with a certain former classmate.