a/n Thank you all for reading and especially thanks to those of you who reviewed. It means a lot-wow, what a thrill! Thanks.

The Math Teacher-Chapter Five

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Allysa/Nikki

The following Saturday came too fast and yet not fast enough. That afternoon I treated myself to a spa visit for a mani-pedicure and bikini wax.

And at 7.30 I was dressed in my favorite turquoise bikini, worn under a black cotton sundress with a short flouncy skirt edged in silver thread embroidery. Pewter metallic leather sandals with shell and turquoise encrusted thong straps. Hair in a loose french braid and silver hoop earrings.

I had tried on and discarded: shorts and tank top; capris and little cropped cardigan; jeans and golf polo. Sneakers, rubber flipflops, slides and Crocs. Now I desperately wondered if I was horribly overdressed and trying too hard. Thankfully the doorbell rang and saved me from a full blown panic attack.

I grabbed my big straw tote and opened the door.

Anthony Stewart said, "Did you look through the peephole first?"

"What! No! Why? I was expecting you…"

"A woman alone needs to be careful, you need to be aware of your surroundings."

Eeeewww. I was a little creeped out but omigod he was gorgeous! Classically well-tailored khaki shorts with an aqua linen shirt worn untucked and partially buttoned over a plain white t-shirt. Casual leather loafers, like Topsiders, nicely broken-in; no socks. And he had changed his hair. It was no longer in the strange braids and beads, it was expensively cut and silky blond, long on top with short sides.

I said, "Let's start over," using my best teacher voice. Then in my regular voice, "Hey, Anthony. It's great to see you again. And then you say, Hi, Alyssa, you look lovely this evening. And then I ask you if you want to come on for a drink before we go." I raised an eyebrow and waited.

Anthony blinked then smiled wide. My heart started pounding, I think I was having sugar shock from the male eye candy glut. Obediently he said, "Hi, Nikki. You do look beautiful. And I'm very happy to see you again too."

"Much better." We laughed. "So - drink? I have wine."

"No, I'm double-parked. If you're all set, shall we go?"

…. …. …

His car was a low yellow sports car. It had vanity plates that said ONESHOT and I definitely hoped that did not refer to his sexual prowess. On so many levels, ya know?

"Should I put the top up?" he asked politely.

"Oh no. It's such a nice night. Are we going far?"

He gave me a glance from behind the mirrored sunglasses that he put on against the glare of the setting sun. "Not far. And we will definitely stay on terra firma. A friend of mine has a home in Punta Ocho and a private beach. I thought we could have a picnic dinner, watch the moon rise over the ocean. Get to know each other. Okay?"

"It sounds lovely."

Anthony was silent for a few minutes as he maneuvered through the heavy weekend traffic of Miami. I sat and admired his car, running my hand along the edge of the soft ivory leather seat. I squinted at the burled walnut and stainless steel dashboard, checking out the logo on the glove box. I leaned forward and he put out an arm to protect me, but I leaned in and looked closer. I said, "This car is a Ferrari."

He put his hand back on the gearshift and downshifted as the gridlock worsened. He said, "I know."

"I got the impression you don't live here in Miami. But you keep a Ferrari here?"

"Yeah, I don't love Porsches."

"What?"

"Nevermind, tell me about yourself, Alyssa. Where are you from, why'd you decide to be a teacher. C'mon, tell all." He smiled at me but quickly refocused on the road.

"You first! What does a surfer dude do to afford an extra Ferrari or two?"

"Nothing interesting. Tell me…."

…. ….. ….. …..

We made get to know you conversation for the thirty or so minutes it took us to get to the high price area outside Miami. Just stuff, like where we were from: NYC/ Pittsburg. College: Penn State/ Stanford, Cal Tech, MIT, Harvard. (Geez….) And so on. A little while later we drove up a private road to a gated stucco and wrought iron privacy wall, somewhat softened by masses of fuchsia and scarlet bougainvillea. Keypad and cameras at the gate. I surreptitiously checked my cell phone to be sure I had service here. We drove through groves of orange trees and coconut palms and landscaped grounds, past an enormous red tile roofed, white Mediterranean mansion that was tastefully illuminated with security spotlighting and decorated with masses of brilliant flowers in big tubs and giant bowls. No lights on in the house itself though. No cars out front.

"Is your friend home?"

"No."

The car rolled gently over the crushed coral drive and ended up at the ocean, at the gorgeous empty private unimaginably expensive white Florida beach.

The house may have been uninhabited but someone had been here before us. On the immaculately raked expanse of sugar fine sand were two white cushioned teak lounges piled with citrus-colored silk pillows. Low, slatted teak table with lit votive candles and a crystal bowl of floating orchids. Cobalt blue placemats held down by white seashells and silverware rolled in turquoise linen napkins. Copper fire pit burning merrily, set carefully downwind but close enough to warm us if the night turned chilly.

Right now though the evening was tropically still - hot, humid, and perfect. Like a photo shoot.

I looked around, enchanted and amazed. Maybe the best thing was that someone had strung dozens of colorful silk Chinese lanterns in the palms. They lit up the darkening trees exquisitely.

Anthony, who acted as if this was all perfectly normal, plopped down the big LLBean tote and cooler that he'd extracted from the small storage space in the back of his car.

I looked around at the romantic setting, rosy sunset, gentle waves, candles. Champagne. I dabbed my toes into the cool white sand and said, "I hope there aren't sand fleas. I hate it when the sand fleas come out at dusk."

Anthony stared at me. Finally he said, "Sand fleas?"

I nodded. "They're these little biting bugs that come out of the sand at sunset and...No?"

"No. We don't have sand fleas." He was either clueless or a little scary, I wasn't totally sure.

I said, "Oh."

"They are not allowed."

Geez....

I said, "Pour me a drink, please, okay?"

He smiled at me and said agreeably, "Champagne or peach martini? Or I have Pellegrino, I wasn't sure if you drank alcohol."

If I didn't drink before I needed something now. And I adored peach martinis. I said so and added, "How did you guess?"

"Reminded me of your peachy skin - and sweet personality, Nikki."

I did a double take and he grinned. I laughed too. "I have been a bit difficult, haven't I?"

"If you were easy, it wouldn't be worth the effort, babe." He handed me my martini, poured the sparkling water for himself. He said, "Salud," and we clinked crystal flutes.

"You aren't having a martini?" I asked.

"I don't drink a lot when I drive, babe, I'll have champagne with dinner. You enjoy your drink. Relax."

I did just that as the sweet alcohol slid through my veins. We chatted while he unpacked the meal, true picnic food…with a gourmet flair. Tarragon-lemon chicken with a spicy cilantro/ avocado/ and sweet peppers salsa on the side; wild rice salad with minced dried apricots and pomegranate seeds, a green salad of tiny baby lettuce. The champagne, Veuve Cliquot rose', I was guessing a hundred bucks a bottle. Sweet soft cheeses and fruit—strawberries and melon and papaya and mango drizzled with a sweet liqueur. And a box of tiny perfect almond lace cookies so crisp and delicate it was amazing they had survived the trip to the beach.

I waved a hand at the food and the space around us. "This is all so beautiful, Anthony. Thank you for doing this for me."

"For us, Nikki," he said quietly.

"You do this often?" His dark rather unfathomable eyes studied me for a moment, then he shrugged and laughed a little. "No! And, oh okay, I'm a loser, I admit it. I asked my friend's housekeeper - her name is Ella - and my mom for advice." He added, "My mother is an artist and she, you know, like has good ideas. She's cool…."

Was he a little nervous? I thought it was really sweet.

I reached over and touched his shoulder, then impulsively kissed his cheek. "Like I said, it's amazing. Beautiful." And romantic.

He grinned at me and poured us more champagne.

After we ate, I leaned back with a sigh, but Anthony caught my hand and said, "Come sit here with me; we'll watch the moon come up over the ocean." I let him pull me over to his chaise, sat with my back pressed against his very hard chest. He glanced over my shoulder at his watch. "It should appear…just about…now!" And as if he was a magician or a sorcerer, the huge golden moon appeared above the waves. I felt his breath in my hair and shivered. He rubbed my bare arms with those warm callused hands, whispered, "Are you cold, Alyssa?"

I shivered again. I was so not cold.

tbc