“Cream?” Grant asked her. She nodded.
“Cream,” he shouted to the waiter. “You weren’t even old enough to drink coffee the last time I saw you, were you?” he asked her.
r /> Not really listening to his question, she shook her head. She was having a hard time keeping herself from staring at him. His hair was attractively windblown. The open “V” of his shirt continued to bemuse her. Daryl Robins had thought himself the epitome of masculinity, yet his chest had had only a sprinkling of pale hair in the center, while this was a veritable forest growing from darkly tanned skin. An urge to reach out and touch it with her fingertips was so powerful, she looked away.
One glance around the room confirmed what she had suspected. Coeds were eyeing Grant with the unconcealed sexual interest of the modern woman. She was the subject of their cool appraisal. Grant Chapman was a celebrity in a notorious, dangerous way, with the kind of reputation no woman could resist being curious about. Shelley had tried to ignore the ripple of attention that their arrival had created, but the bold stares being directed toward them now were most disconcerting.
“You get used to it,” he said softly after a moment.
“Do you?”
“No, you don’t really get used to it, you just learn to live with it and ignore it if you can.” He twirled a glass ashtray on the highly glazed wooden tabletop. “That’s only one consequence of having your face in the news every day for several months. Whether you’re the good guy or the bad guy, the culprit or the victim, guilty or innocent, notoriety shadows you. Nothing you do is private anymore.”
She didn’t say anything until after the harried waiter had served them their coffee. Shelley stirred cream into her cup and said gently, “They’ll get accustomed to seeing you around. News that you’d be joining the faculty this fall spread through the campus like wildfire last spring. Once you’re here for a while, the excitement will die down.”
“My classes filled up quickly. I don’t find that flattering. I realize most of the students who registered for them did so out of curiosity. I saw the cowboy sitting next to you sleeping today.”
She smiled, glad that he didn’t have that intense, guarded expression on his face any longer. “I don’t think he appreciated the finer points of your lecture.”
Grant returned her smile briefly and then gazed at her earnestly, searching the depths of her eyes with an intensity that made her quail. “Why did you take my class, Shelley?”
She looked down into her coffee; then, thinking that silence would incriminate her, she said spiritedly, “Because I needed the credit.”
He ignored her attempted levity. “Were you a curiosity seeker, too? Did you want to see if I’d grown horns and a long tail since you’d seen me?”
“No,” she cried softly. “Of course not. Never.”
“Did you want to see if I’d remember you?” He was leaning forward now, his forearms propped against the edge of the table. The distance between them was visibly decreased, but rather than shrinking from him, she felt an irresistible urge to move closer still.
“I … I guess I did. I didn’t think you would remember. It’s been so long and—”
“Did you want to see if I remembered the night we kissed?”
CHAPTER 2
Her heart slammed against her ribs. The noise of the room diminished under the thundering pulse in her eardrums. Her mouth went dry.
“Look at me, Shelley.”
No, no, don’t, Shelley. You’ll be lost. He’ll see. He’ll know. Her eyes disobeyed the frantic order of her brain and lifted to meet his. She saw her reflection in the greenish depths, a shattered expression, a face full of sadness, of perplexity.
“I remember kissing you. Do you remember it?”
She nodded before she spoke. “Yes.” Momentarily she closed her eyes as a wave of vertigo seized her. She prayed he’d drop the subject, go on to something neutral that they could discuss openly and easily. She didn’t think she’d survive reliving that life-altering night while he sat just inches from her.
The times she had reviewed it privately were innumerable. The memory was locked away in the most secret part of her being, a treasure trove that no one knew about. She had been miserly with that memory, bringing it forth and reliving it only when she was alone. But discussing that night with him would be like undergoing a medical examination. Nothing would be hidden. She couldn’t do it.
He was unmerciful. “It was after the championship basketball game. Do you remember?”
“Yes,” she answered, forcing a leaden dullness into her voice to keep from screaming. “Poshman Valley won.”
“And everyone went crazy,” he said softly. “The band must have played the fight song ten times in succession. Everybody in town was there, yelling and screaming. The players were lifting the coach over their heads and parading him around the gym floor.”
She could see it all. Hear it all. Smell the popcorn. She could still feel the floor vibrating beneath her feet as everyone stamped in time to the blaring music the band was playing.
“Shelley, go get the victory banner,” one of the other cheerleaders had screamed into her ear. She had nodded and fought her way through the rejoicing spectators to the office where the cheerleaders had left the banner.
Shelley had been dashing out the door with it tucked under her arm when Mr. Chapman came running in. He had been sent for the trophy that was to be presented to the victors.