A Case for Romance. Melanie Schuster

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.

       Chapter 4

       J ohnny slept a lot better than Ayanna, and the dreams he had about being with her weren’t a cause for angst. On the contrary, he was looking forward to seeing her that morning. He’d watched the DVD of her dancing three times before he went to bed, after making a point of taking it out of the player and taking it to the guest room with him. He had every intention of keeping it, and Billie could just get over it until he could copy it. If he copied it. For some reason, he didn’t really want anyone else looking at it. The way Ayanna looked was amazing, but the way she was dancing was too sexy to be believed.

      He was still in bed, wearing the sheet that was covering him and nothing else. He smiled lazily as he recalled with total clarity every act of consensual loving he’d shared with Ayanna during the night. It was the costume she’d worn in the DVD that had done it. It was some kind of gold getup with those sparkly things on it. It had a top part with one shoulder strap and a skirt thing that bared her navel and was split on the side to show off her long, shapely legs. Ayanna might be slender, but every inch of her was bangin’ as his early-morning tent pole testified.

      He chuckled as he enjoyed the sensation of his erection. Some men got bothered by the early-morning wake-up call by their nether regions, but Johnny liked it. It let him know that he was still in business, and after the night of fantasies he’d had courtesy of the captivating Ayanna, he couldn’t blame his body for reacting. The way she had worked her body around that stage was so blazing hot it had seared his eyeballs. She moved like she didn’t have any bones in her hips, especially when she was doing the Latin dances. She had such control of her beautiful body that all he could think was what she would feel like in his arms.

      The only hitch was Todd Wainwright. Were they involved or something? Todd hadn’t made it to the open house because he was head of the trauma unit at John Stroger Hospital, and he’d been on call yesterday. They seemed to move as one person on the DVD, and the way he touched her and looked into her eyes during the dance was more intimate than Johnny liked. Was it part of the show, or was there something going on? He’d already made two wrong assumptions about Ayanna that had put him off the trail, and he wasn’t going to make a third. First he assumed she was too young, and then he assumed she had a husband because she had two sons. “Yeah, well, they say assumptions are the mothers of all screwups. I’m getting to the bottom of this ASAP,” he said aloud.

      He tossed back the covers and got out of the bed, stretching as he did so. First a long hot shower, then a little grooming of his goatee and a shave of his cheeks. Then he’d get dressed for church before going downstairs to grill his sister about her brother-in-law’s intentions toward the delightful Ayanna. This time he was going to get it right.

      Johnny came into the kitchen to find Billie and his mother at the table. He kissed them both, and after exchanging greetings, he got right down to business. “Billie, what’s the deal with Todd and Ayanna? Are they kickin’ it or what?”

      Lee Phillips looked at her oldest child with equal parts amusement and amazement. “You sound rather territorial, dear. What’s going on? Are you interested in Ayanna?”

      Johnny didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, I sure am. Why shouldn’t I be interested? She’s smart, she’s a great mother, her boys are well-mannered, well-behaved and intelligent and she’s gorgeous. Why are you asking if I’m interested? Don’t you like her? You think there’s something wrong with her?” He had a very defined scowl on his face, which neither woman had ever seen on behalf of a woman.

      Lee and Billie exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.

      “I think he’s serious, Mama,” Billie said. “I’m going to finish cooking breakfast before Daddy comes down here growling like a bear.”

      “Come sit down, dear.” Lee invited him. “Have some coffee.”

      “I’m not sitting down until you tell me why you don’t like Ayanna,” he said defensively. “She’s a lovely woman. What’s not to like about her?”

      “Ooh, you’re really going off the deep end, aren’t you?” Lee’s eyes twinkled with affection for her son. “Now sit your lanky butt down, and let me drop some knowledge on you.”

      Johnny sat down at the pub table in the spacious kitchen and crossed his arms on the table. Lee took a sip of coffee before speaking.

      “Ayanna Porter is an outstanding young woman, and your father and I adore her. But she’s not like those gangly airheads you normally spend two or three weeks wining, dining, bedding and forgetting. She’s not for you, son. All you want is a good time, and she’s not a good time gal. So unless you’re willing to go the distance, you need to go away.” Her words were kind but firm.

      “Don’t hold back, Mama. How do you really feel about it?” he said dryly.

      Billie’s giggles could be heard as she took a tray of maple crisped turkey bacon out of the oven. “I guess she told you, big brother. But she’s right. I told you, Ayanna ain’t anybody’s play toy. If you’re looking for a playmate, I think I heard Davina in the shower. She got in late, but she should be rarin’ to go.”

      “Well, thanks for the gratifying assessment of my personality,” Johnny said curtly. “I think I’ll just meet you at church,” he added.

      “Oh, don’t get mad. I made stuffed French toast,” Billie wheedled. “It’s Ayanna’s recipe. We’re not trying to say that you’re