My Forbidden Mentor by Laura Mills Page A

it been since she passed away?” John asked.
    There was a moment of hesitation before Melissa responded, as if a few joyous memories had relived themselves in her mind, producing a smile on her lips as a result. “Approximately three years ago,” she told him.
    “You miss her a great deal, I can tell,” John responded and spoke with complete understanding.
    His tenderness made her aware of his nearness again. She could feel his warm breath teasing her cheek. “Yes, I do. There’s so much more I wanted to tell her and talk to her about,” she shared. If her mother were alive she could talk to her about anything, including her handsome mentor, but instead she had to go on instinct. Her mind was telling her it was wrong to be this close to him, but her heart was telling her to open up and take him in, body and soul. Her mind was winning because she knew nothing of his feelings for her.
    “I know what you mean,” John said as they both kept their watchful gazes toward the wide-open view. “My mother’s been gone eighteen years and it still saddens me to think about her not being here any longer.”
    “What about your father? It must be hard on him as well?” Melissa inquired.
    “I suppose,” he agreed and then reevaluated his answer. “To be honest, I wouldn’t know. I’m not very close to my father,” he concluded and his roughened tone didn’t go unnoticed.
    “Do you have brothers and sisters?”
    “No. Do you?” he responded.
    “No,” she answered. “It seems we have a lot more in common than horses. We both have lost our mothers and we both are only children, although I wouldn’t have been an only child if my brother had lived, but because he died at birth I consider myself one,” she told him as her fingers tangled within each other.
    “Your parents didn’t try for more children?” John asked.
    “No. I think the death of my brother was too much to bear. After that my mother got involved in women’s rights. It took over her life,” she told him as a bit of disheartenment sounded in her voice. “She even had meetings at our house. A great number of women would show up and, believe it or not, a few men, mainly husbands that supported their wives, including my father,” she explained while her eyes took in the wildflowers dancing in the distance.
    “And you were allowed to attend these meetings?” he questioned.
    Melissa chuckled softly, “Of course. I am a woman after all,” she teased.
    His voice turned deep and husky. “Yes, but at the time you would have been a girl,” he harassed, taking a strand of her hair and twirling it in gentle motions. “Could you interpret the full meaning behind the proposed actions?” he asked.
    Was he referring to women’s rights or something else? Something sinful, something pleasurable? Didn’t she wish it were that way? Without realizing her words were testing, she played along with his bantering. “I understood enough, and when the girl became a woman, I understood even more,” she said, watching the same wildflowers continuing to wave back and forth.
    She missed the wicked grin he now displayed, keeping her face averted from his, but the blush on her cheeks revealed another side, her naive side. Her innocence taunted him, urging him to discover hidden parts of her.
    Everything with Melissa seemed to be a first. She loved horses as much as he. She was able to coerce him into any task, whether he approved or not. She made him roar with laughter more often than he remembered in the past. She also created a desire in him so strong the strain of it lingered, lingered and simmered. But their mentor-student relationship froze all intimate actions. Still, could she be the first to make him fall in love? Now why had love involved itself in this picture? It was natural to want to be intimate with a beautiful woman, especially when he’d gone so long without one, and he was spending so much time with Melissa it seemed instinctive to desire her. “Is