An All Night Man Read online

  It wasn't a whispery request. It was an urgent demand. The urgency turned her on.

  Before she could step toward him, he circled his arms around her waist and pulled her hard against his chest. Then he smothered her mouth with his, filling her entire body with heat.

  "You taste so sweet,” he said. “I want to taste all of you.”

  He tweaked her nipple through her shirt, then moved his hand lower, cupping her feminine mound. Amani softly moaned.

  As his lips found their way back to hers, his hands pulled at her clothes. He had her form-fitting top unzipped and off her body in mere seconds. She wasn't wearing a bra—she knew he liked that—and he growled his appreciation.

  Less than a minute later, they were both completely naked.

  Stepping backward when he reached for her, Amani moved to the bed. Slowly she sat, then lay back, spreading her legs as she did.

  "Oh, baby,” he said in a gravelly tone. “I can see how moist you are.” He walked toward her. “I want to taste you. Will you let me?”

  The image of his hot mouth covering her almost brought her to orgasm. “You don't have to ask.”

  Amani closed her eyes in anticipation. His breath was warm. She knew his tongue would feel glorious.

  "Oh, Aaron . . .”

  As she moaned loudly, she opened her eyes. Opened them and found no one caressing her naked skin but the satin sheets. Yet her entire body throbbed with sexual tension, as if she'd just been in the middle of an intimate act.

  She had been. In her dreams.

  Sighing softly, Amani's eyelids fluttered shut. She had been dreaming about Aaron. Again.

  Her skin was hot and moist, as surely as if she had worked up a sweat with him. And her center was moist. She knew that without having to feel for herself.

  She let out a slow breath as she pulled the satin sheet over her breasts. The material skimmed her nipples, and the sensation was as erotic as if Aaron had touched her, only much less fulfilling.

  Perhaps there was something wrong with her. What else would explain her inability to fall for available men, and her lingering desire for the one who could never be hers?

  Aaron Hayes was off-limits. Or was he?

  In high school, he had been off-limits because he was her teacher and he was married. She'd been eighteen when she met him and in her immature mind, that had been old enough because she was legal. She hadn't worried about the fact that he was married when she wrote that erotic story, nor had she considered the ramifications of an actual relationship with her teacher.

  But she was no longer his student . . .

  "But nothing,” she told herself. It had taken nine years to see him again this time, and it would probably be another nine years before their next chance encounter.

  Just before noon on Wednesday, Amani was pouring dark-roast coffee grinds into a filter when she heard Suzette say, “My, my, my. Look who it is.”

  Amani's hands stilled. “Earl?” she whispered, dread settling in her stomach like a dead weight.

  "No, not Earl. Someone much, much more intriguing.”

  Amani dumped the empty coffee package into the trashcan. “Honestly, Suzette, sometimes I think all you do is stand behind the counter all day and check out the men coming in.”

  Suzette sighed wistfully. “Is there anything better?”

  Amani pressed the start button on the coffee machine. “Is it someone I know?”

  "Just turn around, dear.”

  Rolling her eyes, Amani did just that. Then felt like she'd been sucker-punched. Aaron Hayes, looking like he'd stepped off the front page of GQ magazine in a black turtleneck, black slacks, and a thigh-long black leather coat, strolled casually toward the deli counter.

  "Mr. Hayes.” His name escaped on a shaky breath.

  "Aaron,” he corrected.

  "Aaron.” She stepped toward the counter, her hands automatically reaching for the tongs outside the pastry display. She lifted them, placed them back down. Looked around for something else to fidget with and finally decided to stick her hands in her pockets. “Your computer still on the fritz?”

  "No, it's working again. That's not why I'm here.” “Oh?”

  "I wouldn't mind a coffee,” he said. “And I'm hoping you have a moment to sit down and share one with me.”

  "Me?”

  He made a joke of looking beyond her shoulder, to where no one stood. “Yeah, you.”

  "I . . .” Amani glanced to her far right, where Suzette stood. Suzette nodded vigorously. Facing Aaron again, Amani said, “All right. I've got some time.”

  "Great.”

  Aaron wanted to sit down and share a coffee with her? It was nine years since she'd graduated high school, yet she had that same nervous feeling in her stomach that she used to get when Aaron had wanted to discuss one of her projects with her.

  Get a grip, she told herself as she poured two mugs of coffee. It's not like he can give you a D.

  "Would you like a bagel?” she asked him. “Or a sandwich?”

  "If you've got a turkey sandwich, that'll be great. I'm on my lunch break.”

  "From school?”

  "Uh huh.”

  "So what brings you down here?”

  "I'll tell you as soon as we sit.”

  Butterflies zipped around in Amani's stomach like they were on speed. She placed the turkey sandwich on a tray, followed by the two mugs of coffee, and a pile of creamers and sugars. Then she made her way around the counter carefully carrying the tray. It wasn't heavy, but she was nervous and didn't want to embarrass herself by tripping.

  "Here, let me.” Aaron moved toward her and took the tray from her hands.

  "Thanks,” she said. He was always the gentleman. Even when he'd broken her heart, he'd been a gentleman.

  "You want to sit near the fireplace?” he asked.

  "Sure.”

  Aaron led the way to one of the two-seater booths surrounding the gas fireplace. He placed the tray on the table, then gestured for her to sit first.

  Lord, she could hardly stand how nice he was. She would never purge him from her erotic dreams unless he became an asshole.

  "You have me very curious,” she said as she sat. “I can't imagine why you'd come down here to see me on your lunch break.”

  "I don't have a class right after lunch, so I have some extra time.”

  Nodding, Amani reached for her coffee. “That still leaves me clueless.”

  Aaron opened the plastic container that held the turkey sandwich. “This is a great-looking sandwich.”

  "Aaron!”

  Faint laugh lines formed around his eyes as he chuckled softly. “All right,” he said. “I'll tell you why I'm here.”

  "Please do.”

  Amani held her breath until Aaron spoke again—a good four seconds. “I have a confession to make,” he said.

  Amani's breath left her in a rush. Had she heard him correctly? “A confession?”

  "Yeah.”

  Oh, man. What could he possibly want to tell her? That he was fiercely attracted to her?

  "I didn't come here by chance on Monday.”

  "You didn't?”

  He shook his head. “I knew you owned this place. But I acted like I was surprised to see you when I came in.”

  Aaron said the words as if he'd just confessed to being a serial killer. He might as well have. Amani was just as surprised.

  "I don't understand,” she said.

  "I saw that article in the paper about you and your business venture. I remembered you right away. Remembered Suzette as well, although her hair is very different. I was proud of your success, but surprised that you were a small business owner. I always thought you'd be a writer.”

  Amani dragged a hand across the back of her neck. “Oh?”

  "Yeah. It's not too often I come across a person whom I sure will make it in the world of publishing. You're one of a few.”

  Aaron's comment rendered Amani speechless.

  "You're that good,”
Aaron went on.

  "A writer? It's a nice dream, Aaron, but this is my life now.” She gestured to the cafe.

  "I understand.” He took a sip of his coffee. “But I have a proposition for you.”

  "A proposition?”

  "Yeah. And I'm hoping you'll bite.”

  Proposition. Bite. If he only knew how those words had played out in her fantasies with him.

  Then again, maybe he did. Surely he remembered the embarrassing story she had written.

  But that was half a lifetime ago. Ancient history.

  "I'm all ears.” She surprised herself with how calmly she spoke, considering her stomach was in knots. If, by some remote chance, Aaron was here to tell her that he had always loved her and couldn't live without her, then she wanted him to come right out and say that.

  His mouth opened. She watched it move. It was a sexy mouth. One she had imagined trailing kisses over every part of her body.

  "What do you say?”

  Aaron stared at her expectantly, and Amani realized she hadn't heard whatever he'd said. “Um, pardon me?”

  His eyes narrowed as he looked at her quizzically. “I said, Delta is doing a Continuing Education program. On Wednesday evenings, I'm teaching a creative writing class. It started a couple weeks ago, but it's not too late for you to join.”

  Amani blinked, stunned. “You want me to sign up for your writing class?”

  "Yes.”

  "That's why you're here?”

  "I figured I'd extend a personal invitation.”

  "But. . . but. . . but I'm busy. With the shop. It's a small business, and Suzette and I practically run it ourselves.”

  "Then I'm sure she won't mind scheduling you Wednesday evenings off for a couple months.”

  "A couple months!”

  "Six more weeks, actually. Until the end of December.”

  Amani frowned. “I don't know. I'm not sure.”

  "I want you in my class.”

  Amani's eyes met Aaron's. For several seconds, their gazes were locked. Prickles of anticipation danced along Amani's skin.

  She was the first to look away. “Why? Why do you want me in your class?”

  "Because in all the years I've been teaching, you were the student with the most potential.”

  It was a wonderful compliment, and Amani couldn't help feeling a surge of pride. But immediately following the pride was self doubt. She had stopped writing after he had told her he wouldn't publish her story in the senior collection of short stories. She had realized then that she put too much of herself on the line in her writing, and she didn't want to do that again.

  "I have a different life now,” she said quietly.

  "You have a natural-born writing talent. That never dies.”

  "I'm not so sure.”

  1 m sure.

  Amani blew out a sigh. “I really don't think I can . . .”

  "How about a challenge, then?” Aaron asked, clearly not willing to back down. “A wager of sorts.”

  "What kind of wager?”

  "If you take this course and complete it, you can ask me for anything your heart desires.”

  Amani's eyebrows shot up at the same time her heart slammed against her ribcage. “Meaning?”

  "Whatever you want, I'll do for you.”

  "Like buy me an all-expense-paid trip to Hawaii?”

  Aaron's lips twisted as he contemplated her suggestion. “Maybe not all-expense-paid, but I'm willing to put five hundred into the deal if what you want has a monetary value.”

  Five hundred dollars!

  "But I'm also game to be your housekeeper for a week,” he added. “Or your personal chef. Whatever.''

  "I'm liking this,” Amani said in a devious tone.

  "But.” Aaron wagged a finger. “If you don't complete the course, you have to do something for me.”

  "The infamous catch. So this is more like a bet.”

  He nodded as he finally took a bite of his sandwich.

  "1 don't get why this is important to you,” Amani said, eyeing him warily.

  He chewed, swallowed. “I told you why.”

  "I know what you said, but this whole wager thing is pretty serious for a teacher who thinks I have potential. I get the feeling there's something more to why you're here.” She paused. “Is there?”

  Aaron inhaled and exhaled slowly. “There is,” he admitted. “I want to make things right.”

  Amani frowned. “I don't understand.”

  "I have a feeling that the reason you stopped writing has to do with me.”

  The question that popped into Amani's mind was a lame, “What makes you say that?” but Aaron was not just a pretty face. He was a deeply sensitive man, one who had been in tune with his students' feelings. He had reached out to her in a way no other teacher had when he'd learned about her mother's sudden passing.

  It made complete sense that he would know, without her telling him, the reason she had decided to put down the pen forever.

  Yet she said, “Oh, Mr. Hayes. You shouldn't blame yourself for that.”

  "I still fee! bad about what happened that day. You know it wasn't personal. And please, call me Aaron.”

  "Aaron.” Instinctively, Amani reached across the table and covered his hands with hers. “My not writing has nothing to do with you.”

  Aaron nodded, seemingly satisfied by her answer. “Good. Then you should have no problem accepting my challenge.”

  Amani leaned back in her seat. “Oh, goodness. You're not serious about that.”

  "I am. Name your price.”

  As much as she had told herself that she would never write another story, excitement now stirred within her at the prospect of letting her creative juices flow once again.

  She finally said, “I'll take the course, but there's no need to wager anything.”

  "Humor me.”

  He wasn't going to give up. And an idea suddenly struck Amani. A brilliant one. “All right. But what I'm going to ask is really more of a favor than anything else. And you might not want to oblige, considering I'll need this well before the end of the course.”

  "What?”

  "I need a date for a wedding. It's next weekend. Normally, I wouldn't have a problem going alone, but my ex-husband is going to be there, and I'm really not happy about the fact that I have to see him. I'll deal with the night much better if I have lots of alcohol and if I don't have to be alone. You'll probably say no, but there it is, on the table. That's what I'd like.”

  "This sounds important to you.”

  "It is.”

  "Next Saturday?”

  "Yes.”

  Aaron nodded slowly. “All right. I'll go with you.”

  Amani's shoulders drooped with relief. “Oh, thank you.”

  "As long as you come to my class tonight.”

  "Tonight?”

  "It's Wednesday. You've missed the first two classes. This is the best time for you to come and register if you're serious about doing it.”

  There was a part of Amani that knew seeing any more of Aaron would be dangerous. Around him, her heart tended to get involved even if her brain told it not to. But there was another part, the part that hadn't quite died, that was secretly thrilled that he was seeking her out to be in his class. A part that secretly yearned for as much of Aaron Hayes as she could get.

  "What time?” she asked.

  "The class starts at seven-thirty. Be there around seven, seven- fifteen in order to register and fill out the paperwork.”

  "All right,” Amani agreed. “I'll do it.”

  Aaron's lips curved in a megawatt smile. Had he actually spent years wondering if she was still writing, and feeling guilty for not publishing her story years ago?

  Or was there another reason behind his obvious happiness?

  "What else do you want?” he asked. “Provided you complete the course, that is.”

  "Going to the wedding with me will be payment enough.”

  He gave her a look that said he was
n't born yesterday. “I need to know you'll be there until the end, so please, choose something else.”

  "Gosh, you're not going to make this easy.”

  "No, I'm going to make it right.”

  She thought for a moment. What else do I want? “Okay, here's the deal. If I complete the course, you'll have to dust my entire place.”

  He raised an eyebrow. Was there a hint of suggestion in his eyes? He asked, “That's all?”

  "You haven't seen the dust in my house.”

  "Good enough,” Aaron said. “Now, for my wager. If you don't complete the course—”

  "I'll complete it.”

  "But if you don't, you'll spend a day at Delta with me, talking to my students about how fears can keep a person from pursuing her dreams.”

  "That's not fair!”

  "Which is a moot point, if you won't be losing this challenge.” Aaron extended a hand to Amani. “Can we shake on it?”

  She accepted his strong hand and shook it firmly. “Get your dust cloth ready,” she told him, smirking smugly, “Because you're going to need it.”

  4

  .

  Aaron tossed his pen down on the desk, leaned back in his leather chair, and stretched his body for a good five seconds. There was no point continuing to mark any more papers before the class started. His stomach was fluttering with nervous anticipation, and he could barely concentrate.

  He'd been anxious ever since leaving Coffee, Tea & Mail hours earlier. Anxious at the prospect of Amani really joining his class, although he had practically given her no choice.

  Glancing up, Aaron's gaze wandered to the wall clock. It was thirteen minutes after seven. Would Amani show up?

  She'd said she would, and he had no reason to doubt her. Unless she decided she wasn't up for his challenge.

  He hoped she was. Amani was a brilliant writer. He had known that from the moment he'd read her first words on paper in his class ten years ago. He also knew that the reason she had stopped writing was because of him.

  Oh, he couldn't be one hundred percent sure, but his gut told him he was right. When he had told Amani that he couldn't publish her story in the senior class anthology, he had seen the light go out of her eyes. And every day in class after that, the work she had turned in had been substandard. Her last project had been completely void of the emotion and passion of her earlier works. He should have given the project a C, but he'd given her the A he knew she was capable of, partly out of guilt, and partly to boost her morale.