A Kiss Remembered

He put his forehead against hers and let out a long sigh. The doorbell rang a second time. He looked down into her face apologetically. “Don’t move,” he commanded, levering himself off the couch and resnapping his jeans as he crossed to the door. He opened it no more than a few inches.

“Yes?” he barked.

A seductive giggle preceded Pru Zimmerman into the room. “Is that any way to greet a … friend?”

She turned toward the startled Grant before she could see Shelley, who was curled into the corner of the sofa, her feet tucked under her. She had hastily rebuttoned the shirt, though the fabric was twisted around her thighs in a telltale fashion.

Grant hadn’t taken time to rebutton his shirt and Pru audaciously slid her fingers up and down the buttonholes as she said, “I came by to ask you about some extra reading. I didn’t do as well on that test as I had hoped to.”

Shelley couldn’t believe the girl’s gall. Her sweater was much too tight. Her breasts were unconfined, the nipples obvious through the knit. She moved closer to Grant with a swaying motion and tilted her head at an angle she no doubt thought irresistible. When her hand slipped into his open shirt, Shelley was seized by a fierce jealousy and cried out in anger.

At the same time, Grant’s viselike fingers closed around the girl’s wrist and jerked her hand away from him.

Pru whipped around toward Shelley and met her turbulent blue eyes. She took in Shelley’s dishabille at a glance. Fury thinned her petulant lips and narrowed her calculating eyes.

“Miss Zimmerman, I’m asking you politely not to come here or call again. Anything you have to see me about can be seen to in the classroom.” Grant held himself rigid. Shelley suspected that if he’d let himself go, he would have throttled the young woman.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Chapman. You know why I came here.”

“Then I find your behavior not only rude, but offensive. I don’t need to remind you that you’re my student, nothing more.”

“So is she,” Pru screamed, pointing an accusing fin

ger at Shelley, who was barely managing to control an impulse to fly at the girl and scratch her eyes out. She could gladly strangle her for touching Grant the way she had. “What’s she doing here undressed and cozily curled up on your couch?”

“That’s none of your damn business,” Grant said heatedly. He gripped her shoulder hard and spun her toward the door. He opened the door with one hand while pushing her through it with the other.

“Well, I’ll make it my business to see that Chancellor Martin finds out you’re sleeping with your students,” she threatened before Grant slammed the door in her face and clicked the lock decisively.

“Can you believe her?” Grant shouted, raking a frustrated hand through his already mussed hair. “I—Shelley?”

He had turned around to see her white, tense face. Rather than quaking with rage as she had been doing but seconds ago, she was now cowering. “What is it?” he asked, rushing to her.

She swallowed. “Nothing, Grant. I think you should take me home.” She began to get up, but his hands stayed her. He forced her face up to meet his eyes.

“Look at me,” he demanded when she tried to avert her head. “Why? Why do you want me to take you home? Why, dammit?”

“Because … because … she’s right, Grant. I shouldn’t be here. People will think—”

“I don’t give a damn what people will think,” he roared.

“Well I do,” she shouted back.

“Shelley …” His hands closed around her shoulders so tightly she winced. He eased his grip slightly. “I learned that no matter how circumspect you are, some people will jump at the chance to point a finger at you. People love to condemn others because it gives them a sense of self-righteousness. It gets you nowhere to try to please everybody. It’s futile, impossible. You need only please yourself.”

“No, Grant. I was taught early on that there are rules we have to live by whether we like them or not. We’re breaking the rules. I’ve lived my life one way for twenty-seven years. I can’t start changing now.” It took every ounce of her self-discipline to look him in the eye and say, “If you won’t drive me to campus to pick up my car, I’ll walk.”

He cursed viciously. “All right. Go upstairs and change.”

They left the house within minutes. He ushered her out the door, locking it behind him. Impervious to the rain, he helped her into his car and backed out the driveway.

“My car’s parked behind Haywood Hall,” she said when he headed in the opposite direction from the campus.

“I’m hungry. I had planned on taking you to dinner tonight.”

“Why? As payment for my favors?”

His head jerked around and she quailed under the sparks of anger shooting from his eyes. “Read it any way you like,” he snarled.