Just one kiss, I told myself.
One kiss would be enough to get rid of the pressure, to release the delicious anticipation, and leave me with clear thoughts. One kiss would snap us both back to reality.
Ford must have felt the same way because he bent his head, his eyes drifting to my eager lips. I felt a push and pull in his arm as he struggled. We were alone, cloaked in a silent building, in the center of a private campus, and the only light was blocked out by our joining bodies.
No! My mind cried frantically. I was seized with thoughts of my reckless mother and all the hurt she had caused our family. If I gave in to even one delicious moment, I was no better than her.
I caught Ford's eyes, and he saw them flare with worry. His only answer was a lost smile: we were both goners, and there was no going back.
When my body pressed against his, and we both felt the heat, it all felt inevitable.
Then he stopped, stilled his encircling arms, and caught his breath. A battalion of emotions charged over his face and for a moment, I hoped he would lose the battle. I wanted his lips on mine, I wanted the heat of his kiss, the assurance that he felt the same fiery longing as me.
Ford pulled away and cleared his throat. "I never understood how long dresses and high heels mixed," he said.
I forced a giggle. "The lights going out didn't help."
"I forgot they turn out the building lights after midnight, not that I'm usually here this late," Ford said. He turned and pushed his desk chair in. "Don't worry, there's enough light from the exit signs and windows to see our way down to the front."
I turned back to his nearly empty bookshelves and pretended I needed a minute to remember where his copy of A Moveable Feast was supposed to fit. It was a thin ruse but, then again, so was his rummaging around in his desk drawers as if his keys weren't in his pockets.
Ford opened another drawer and pulled out a small, laminated card. "I better call security and let them know we're still in here before they lock the doors. I don't think shimmying down a rain gutter is going to work in that dress."
"No, don't!" I cried. I spun from the bookshelf and dodged over to his desk to put both hands over his phone.
It took no more than a few seconds for Ford to catch my reason for panic. Despite the fact that the overheated moment we had just shared our office visit had been innocent, the likelihood of campus security seeing it that way was significantly less. I knew for a fact, from my father, that most of the campus-wide rumors flew from the mouths of the security guards. They saw everything and often drew their own conclusions, mostly for fun.
What would they say when Ford and I sauntered out together in our formal wear?
He said nothing, but stepped back and crossed his arms. The look on his face was a choppy surf of frustration and fear. It was much more his reputation than mine at stake. I would only lose face while he could lose his job.
"Let me call them," I said. "I'll just tell them I was picking up a paper and didn't realize the time."
Ford leaned over to the sofa and picked up the forgotten pages. "That's the truth," he said.
He didn't meet my eyes, and I knew whatever we had felt moments before was gone. I picked up the phone and dialed. "Hi, sorry, I'm in an open office in Thompson Hall, and the lights just went out. Yes, yeah, I know. I was picking up a paper from my professor and didn't realize it was past midnight."
I hung up and trotted to the door. "Thanks for the comments on my creative writing, Professor Bauer," I said.
He followed me into the hallway and pulled his office door shut behind him. "I'll walk you down," he said.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
Ford scowled. "I've fallen asleep in my office once or twice. I'm sure the security guard will think nothing of it happening again."
The beefy security guard at the front door didn't even raise an eyebrow. "Student ID," he held out his hand to me.
Before Ford could say whose daughter I was, I lied. "It didn't match my dress for the donors’ dinner. My name's Trisha Maxwell."
The security guard rolled his eyes and opened the door for me. "Asleep at the wheel again, Ford?" he asked.
Ford scrubbed a hand over his face as if he'd just woken up. "Would have slept all night if I didn't hear her clattering around."
We stepped out into the cool night air, and Ford followed me down the sidewalk. I shivered, but refused to look back, afraid he would offer me his coat again.
Chapter Eight
Ford