Learning Curves - By Elyse Mady Page 0,23
into the warm flannel of her bed. In the dark, her mind wouldn’t quiet, replaying their incendiary encounter under the portico, playing back their angry accusations and their even angrier embrace. She was still jittery and aroused. Slowly, her hands slid down, across her stomach, and parted the moist curls at the apex of her thighs. She caressed the sensitive bud, circling round and round. In her mind’s eye, she remembered the feel of her body Saturday night, stretching to accommodate Brandon’s long fingers.
Panting, she stroked herself harder, slipping her fingers inside. She crested hard, her breathing labored, as images of her fantasy flashed in sexual Technicolor against her eyelids.
Chapter Five
“Miss?”
After a troubled night with little sleep, Leanne found it hard to summon her typical enthusiasm for her weekly seminar discussions. These small groups were supposed to supplement the larger lectures and allow students to develop their ideas. It would help if some of the students had original notions to expand on. And it probably wouldn’t hurt if more than half of them actually opened their readings.
“Amy. What can I do for you?”
“I have a question about the term paper.”
“Sure.” Turning from the broad desk at the front of the crowded seminar room, she settled against the table as Amy rummaged in her book bag for her laptop.
The young girl opened her laptop and pulled up the beginning of her term paper. A quick read through of the opening lines revealed troubled syntax and a garbled thesis statement. With only a few minutes until her next seminar, there was no way Leanne could help Amy rework her paper right now. They’d have to meet one-on-one.
Leanne reached behind her for her day planner, then flipped through the pages until she could see her schedule for the remainder of the week. Her office hours were already busy, since the end of the term always brought with it a flurry of late-onset diligence, but Thursday might work. She had an appointment with Armstrong at eleven and a committee meeting in the afternoon but maybe earlier in the day?
Amy moaned softly under her breath.
Leanne looked up. “Are you okay?”
The hairs on her neck stood at Amy’s dazed look.
Schooling her face into a mask of friendly neutrality, Leanne turned toward the open doorway. Her diagnosis had been correct. Another case of Brandonitis. If only there was an inoculation against the infection. But thus far, and despite repeated exposure, she was no closer to developing an immunity against him.
“Brandon,” Leanne said brightly, hoping against hope that neither he nor the eighteen suddenly fascinated students noticed the squeak in her voice. If only, she thought, taking in their interest, they showed as much enthusiasm for Blake’s poetry. Clearly, long-dead poets had nothing on the stunning presence of a very much alive hunk.
“Wow,” Amy said sotto voce. She looked from the door to the table where Leanne stood, new respect for her seminar leader in her eyes. “You know him?”
Leanne’s lips quirked at the disbelief evident in the girl’s query.
“Yes.” Making the short list for the Walters Prize didn’t elicit the same envy as being on a first-name basis with someone who looked like Brandon. While she could certainly understand the young woman’s interest, it was her job to present a professional and unflappable front. It wasn’t easy, what with her body still vibrating with lust after their furious kiss last night. But thoughts like that wouldn’t help in her present situation, so she simply gave a noncommittal nod and met him in the doorway.
Brandon at least looked apologetic. “I’m sorry for interrupting you between seminars. I stopped by the English department to drop off your tickets and Cora said you were here, so I thought I might as well bring them by in person. Just to make sure you got them.”
Suppressing a shudder at what the departmental secretary must be thinking after meeting him, she took the tickets from his outstretched hand.
“Thanks. That was very nice of you.”
Cora would be turning her personal, nearly supernatural, relationship radar to the possibility of a juicy interdepartmental encounter. Leanne had no doubt she’d already contacted her Fine Arts counterpart for the full and unadulterated rundown on Brandon Myles, up to and including his primary school transcript, plus key details like his relationship history and personal affiliations. Because there was nothing—no dating disaster, no familial crisis, no potential romance—too small or insignificant to escape the notice of the administrative staff at a university like Wellington.
“It was no trouble. It wasn’t far