For months prior to her death Missy Lancaster had been keeping close company with Grant Chapman. Senator Lancaster of Oklahoma had seemed to endorse what everyone believed to be a budding romance. When the young woman was found dead from an overdose of sleeping pills in her Georgetown apartment, the bubble of enchantment surrounding them had burst. Grant Chapman was circumstantially implicated; it was believed that he had broken her heart and he was fired from the senator’s staff.
Chapman had then had the bad grace to file a breach-of-contract suit against Senator Lancaster. The news services had had a field day. What could be better than a nude girl, found lying dead in her bed with a note written in her own hand? It had read, “My dearest darling, forgive me for loving you too well. If I can’t have you, then I want to die.” To make matters worse, the autopsy had revealed that Missy Lancaster was pregnant. The public fed on each sordid detail voraciously.
Grant had won his suit, but had resigned his post immediately after the judge handed down his ruling. Grant Chapman might have been dubbed insensitive, but no one had ever accused him of being stupid. He was smart enough to know that in Washington he would forever be ostracized.
“I … I felt sorry for you, having to go through something like that,” she said at last.
He laughed harshly. “You must have been the only one in the country who sympathized with me, the dastardly villain of the piece. Didn’t you for one minute think that all the things they said about me might be true? Didn’t you ever believe I was a despoiler of virgins? Or wonder if it was my baby that died in the womb of his suicidal mother?” Under the anger of his demanding questions, she took a step backward and he knew instant remorse. He raked a hand through his hair and sighed heavily. For a moment he stared down at the brick porch beneath his boots. “I’m sorry, Shelley.”
“Don’t apologize. You’ve every right to be bitter. Whatever happened between you and Missy Lancaster, you ended up the one being victimized.”
He attempted a wry smile. “Where were you when I needed you? I could have used you in my corner cheering me on.”
“Things will work out. People will forget.”
“Will you?” He set her books on the ledge bordering the porch and took a step closer to her.
“Will … will I what?”
“Will you forget that I was involved in a scandal concerning a young girl when you know that ten years ago I kissed one much younger?”
If only there were some motion, some sound to alleviate the ponderous stillness around them. Without distractions, all her senses were concentrated on him. He filled her field of vision with his height and breadth of shoulder. She could smell the woodsy fragrance of his cologne, hear the sound of his heartbeat.
“What happened in Poshman Valley was an accident,” she rasped.
“Was it?” he asked softly. “For a long time afterward I told myself it was, but seeing you the other day, I had to face up to the fact that maybe it wasn’t. Maybe I wasn’t as detached as I knew I should be. Maybe I saw in you then the promise of the woman you are now. Shelley—”
“No.” When he took one step nearer, she backed away. “No, Grant.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because the circumstances are still the same.”
“That’s no reason, Shelley. How old are you? Twenty-six? Twenty-seven? I’m thirty-five. If I were anyone else and we met at a cocktail party, you’d never give our ages a thought.”
She wrung her hands in an effort to still their trembling. Or was it to keep from touching him? To keep from brushing that lock of silvered hair off his brow? To keep from laying her hand flat on his lapel? “It’s not age; it’s status. I’m still your student.”
“At Poshman Valley High School that mattered. Not here. Not in this day and age. I think we owe it to ourselves and to each other to see if that kiss of ten years ago was just a fluke. Or the harbinger of something more.” He came to her and laid his strong hands on her shoulders.
“Don’t, please. Don’t say any more.”
“Listen to me,” he said urgently, backing her against the wall. “You were like a breath of fresh air when you walked through that classroom door the other day. After the quagmire my life has been, you were a reminder of happier days. I’d never forgotten that December night, but the impact of it had dimmed. Seeing you again was a very forcible reminder and it brought back all the ambivalence I felt ten years ago.
“I want to kiss you again, Shelley. My career is blown to hell. I’ve seen how fleeting success and happiness are. So what if someone disapproves of us? I’m tired of trying to please other people. The payoff’s not so good. I’m going to kiss you, Shelley. I’ve got absolutely nothing to lose.”
He trapped her jaw between his thumb and fingers, cradling the underside of it in his palm. Her hands came up to fend him off, but ended up clutching his shoulders. For a long moment, he stared down into her wide, apprehensive eyes, then he lowered his head.
His lips were warm, firm, confident, but soft. They slanted over her mouth, moving in such a way that she never knew the precise instant her lips opened to the light pressure of his tongue. She heard a whimper of satisfaction as he took complete possession, but didn’t realize that she had made the sound.
His tongue rubbed along hers, mating with it, exploring her with meticulous care. He tickled the roof of her mouth with the tip of his tongue, dragged it along her teeth, penetrated as far as he could to leave nothing undiscovered.
The manacles of ten years of depression dropped from her limbs. Her hands went to the back of his neck to touch the dark strands that brushed his collar. Ten years of longing, of fantasies, went into the kiss. Her heart expanded to the bursting point with a rush of pent-up emotion.
He sipped at the moisture shining on her lower lip. “Shelley, Shelley, my God,” he whispered against her mouth. His tongue delved into the sweet vault again, greedier this time. It was met with equal fervor.
He released her jaw, lowered his arm and encircled her waist. The other hand slid down her spine to the small of her back, pressing, urging her closer. With such an intimate positioning of their bodies, she knew at once the hard evidence of his maleness and was shocked.
The feel of it startled her back into consciousness. The stark reality of their situation broke through the passion that had robbed her of rational thought. She pushed against his chest and jerked her head backward.