A Kiss Remembered (7 page)

“When I got home from work I did the shopping, the housework, the laundry, the cooking. Then I typed Daryl’s reports. All through his last two years of premed, three years of med school, and one year of residency, I never complained. I was doing my wifely duty. Never mind that I was becoming boring as hell because all I had to talk about was the gossip in the office.

“Daryl worked, too. He studied. I’ll give him that much credit. It paid off. He was put on staff at one of the major hospitals in the city.”

She paused, taking in another gulp of air. “One night I cooked beef stroganoff, one of his favorites. He came in, sat down to dinner and said, ‘Shelley, I don’t love you anymore. I want a divorce.’ ‘Why?’ I cried. ‘Because I’ve outgrown you. We have nothing in common anymore.’

“Now, can you see why I don’t want any hassles in my life? I won’t be some man’s unsalaried housekeeper and bedmate. I’m a free and independent agent. I don’t want entanglements or disruptions. Even if you weren’t who you are, even if it weren’t already impossible that we become involved, I wouldn’t want you in my life.”

Exhausted, she collapsed into a chair, rested her head on the back cushion and closed her eyes. The woeful tale of her marriage had never been revealed even to her parents. Why she had blurted out the cold hard facts to Grant, she didn’t know. But now maybe he’d understand why she refused to see him on any terms.

The only element she had left out of her story was her sexual relationship with Daryl. In five years, it had never improved after a nightmarish wedding night. She had finally learned to tolerate his sweaty, vigorous lovemaking. Through a kind of self-hypnosis, she had trained her body to accept him even though her mind rejected him. Nothing he did stirred her. She lay beneath him as one dead.

Admittedly she had been unfair to Daryl. She had married him for all the wrong reasons. At that time in her life she had believed womanhood and marriage were one and the same. Every woman got married. It was the only truly accepted thing to do. Conforming to other people’s standards had been a way of life to Shelley Browning and it never entered her mind to buck the system.

She might have been able to make Daryl happy, and vice-versa, but for the one essential ingredient lacking in their marriage. She didn’t love him and never had. Still carrying a secret torch that nonetheless burned brightly and continually in her heart, she had settled for someone else because the man she wanted was out of her reach.

“Shelley.” His quiet voice, coming to her from across the room, across the years, was like a caress. In self-protection, she didn’t open her eyes. “I’m sorry for the unhappiness you’ve known. I don’t want to be a disruption in your life.”

She wanted to scream that he’d always been a disruption. Instead she opened her eyes and said wearily, “Then you won’t pursue this relationship?”

He shook his head sadly. “I can’t let you slip through my fingers again. I thought if I could see you in class every other day, it might be enough until the semester was over. But after what happened the other night, I know I can’t wait any longer. We were off limits to each other before. Not now.”

“Yes now. More than ever. Too much has happened to both of us.”

“You’ve been spurned and I’ve lost my own naiveté. Neither of us is idealistic any longer. We can help each other.”

“We can also hurt each other.”

“I’m willing to chance that.”

“I’m not,” she cried desperately and jumped up from her chair. “You come roaring into my life like a steam-roller from out of the past and expect me to fall all over myself. Okay, Mr. Chapman, if it elevates your ego to know, I
did
have a crush on you. I worshiped the ground you walked on. My world revolved around the afternoons I spent with you. Everything I said and did was weighed against what you’d think of it. When my boyfriend kissed me, I pretended it was you. There, does that make you happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Shelley—”

“But I’m not a starry-eyed teenager anymore. If you’re looking for that kind of blind devotion, look someplace else.”

He closed the distance between them in several long strides. With angry hands he took her shoulders and shook her slightly. “Is that what you think I want from you? Hero worship? Infatuation? No, Shelley. You’re an intelligent woman and I respect your intelligence. But I want you as a lover, too. Naked and passionate and as hot for me as I am for you. And don’t try telling me that the thought of us together like that has never crossed your mind. You’ve all but admitted as much.”

He shook her again. “Didn’t you ever wonder what would have happened had I obeyed my impulse that night, carried you out of there, undressed you, looked at you, touched you, caressed you? By God I did, and cursed the morality that prevented me from ever seeing your body and touching it and tasting it and making love to it.”

She groaned and tried to bury her face in his shirt-front, but he wouldn’t let her. He captured her face between his hands and tilted it up to his. “You didn’t have a happy love life with your husband. You didn’t like making love to him, did you, Shelley?”

“Please,” she moaned and tried to escape his hands. He wouldn’t allow it.

“You didn’t like it, did you?” he demanded.

She held her breath for a moment, then shook her head furiously. “No,” she whispered, then said more forcefully, “no, no, no.”

“Ah, God.” He crushed her to him, rocking her back and forth slowly. His fingers laced through her hair to fit over her scalp and pressed her face against his chest. His lips brushed over her hair in a fervent kiss. After a while, he lifted her chin with his thumb.

His finger followed the heart shape of her hairline. “You’re so beautiful.” He mouthed the words rather than said them, but she understood. “I love the smoky color of your eyes, the shape of your mouth.” He outlined it with his fingertip. “Your hair is soft and shiny and natural, not twisted into some contrived shape.” He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. “You need to be loved, Shelley, by someone who appreciates the woman you are. Let me love you.”

“I don’t know, Grant.”

“We’re on your timetable. No pressure.” He kissed her then. His kiss was a deep and thorough melding of their mouths. He adjusted his body to hers and felt only a tremor of alarm when he cradled his manhood against her. His thumb stroked the warm skin of her neck and pressed against the pulsating vein.

“Will you go to the football game with me Saturday?” The question was a caress against her parted lips. He kissed her again with a gentle love bite on her lower lip. “After the game, the faculty is invited to the chancellor’s house for cocktails. Surely you wouldn’t be so cruel as to make me suffer through that alone.”

She thought his fingertip was gliding along the side of her breast under her arm, but his touch was so tender she couldn’t be sure. However, it was enough to make her breathless when she answered, “I guess I’d never forgive myself if I did.”

He sampled her mouth one more time, using his tongue like an instrument designed solely to give sensual pleasure. “I’ll be by Saturday at two.” He kissed her swiftly and hard, then left, closing the door behind him.

“Grant, slow down. Who do you think you are? The star halfback?” Her hand was locked tightly in his as he led her through the maze of the stadium parking lot toward the gates swarming with football enthusiasts.

“Sorry,” he said, slowing down. “I didn’t think an ol’ cheerleader like you would want to miss the kickoff.”

Ever since she had accepted his invitation, she had anguished over consenting to this date. Common sense dictated that she should have told him no. But each time she was with him, common sense seemed to desert her. If he felt confident enough to take her to the home of the chancellor of the university, why should she feel timorous about it?

She had answered his knock with a high sense of anticipation, and it was rewarded. He looked gorgeous. His dark hair was mussed as usual, but it gleamed in the autumn sunshine. He was dressed in a sport shirt and slacks that perfectly accentuated the lean, tough virility of his physique.

“You look great,” he said, taking in her striped skirt and a silk shirt that matched the cloudy-sky color of her eyes. Without pause or awkwardness, he drew her into his embrace and kissed her with the hunger of a starved man. After the initial shock of his thrusting intimacy had subsided, she wound her arms around his neck.

When at last they parted, each with a thudding heart and shortness of breath, he brought his lips against her ear and said, “We could skip the football game and have our own little match right here. I’ll referee and keep score. All you have to do is play along.”

She blushed furiously and shoved him aside to gather her blue wool blazer and suede purse. He was still laughing when he settled her into his sleek black Datsun 280 Z. They joked and teased while he negotiated his way through the heavy traffic on the way to the stadium. For the first time, they were relaxed with each other, meeting on equal ground as two adults, forgetting the dismal past and enjoying only the present.

“Aren’t football games fun?” he was growling in her ear now. They had been consumed by the throng. To keep them from getting separated, he had wrapped his arms around her waist and positioned her in front of him. He held her tight against him as they made their way slowly toward the ramp that led to their reserved seats.

His meaning didn’t escape her. She could feel the straining pressure of his masculinity against her hips. His breath in her ear, against her cheek, on the back of her neck, was a sweet airy caress. “I think you’re taking unfair advantage.”

“And you’re absolutely right.” He moved his arm up a fraction until it lay just below her breasts. No one in the mob would have noticed. “But can you blame a guy when he’s with the most beautiful woman on the whole campus?”

“Even more beautiful than Miss Zimmerman?” Shelley said with unusual cattiness, referring to the girl who had spoken to him outside Hal’s. “She’s obviously attracted to you and she certainly has a
couple
of fine attributes.”

“I like your attributes better.”

He jostled his arm enough to lift her breasts slightly and to convey his message loud and clear. Shelley’s sharp gasp caused the man beside her to whip his head around.

“Pardon me. Did I step on your foot?”

She shook her head. “No.” Grant’s chest vibrated with silent laughter.

They located their seats in time for the kickoff and were soon caught up in the excitement of the season opener. The afternoon was glorious. The sun was shining, though a northern breeze kept the temperature moderate. By the end of the third quarter Shelley had grown warm beneath her blazer and asked Grant to help her out of it.

After that she felt much more comfortable, but couldn’t help noticing Grant’s increasing restlessness. He wasn’t able to sit still even during lulls in the game.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, concerned. He didn’t look unwell. On the contrary, he looked spectacular to her, the epitome of manhood. He had a wildness, a recklessness, about him that caused an aftershock in the system of every woman who came in contact with him. “Is something wrong?” she repeated, when he seemed disinclined to answer her.

“No,” he said brusquely. “Far from it.” He muttered a curse under his breath.

The home team executed an intricate play to gain twenty-five yards and the crowd rose to its feet, cheering with frenzy. Heedless, Shelley placed an anxious hand on Grant’s arm. “Grant?” she inquired worriedly.

He fixed her with the eyes that had been the subject of so many of her fantasies and asked, “Did you have to wear such a revealing blouse?”

Dumbstruck she looked down at her chest. The blouse itself was not particularly revealing, but the wind, deceptively mild, had molded the silk to the voluptuous curves beneath it, detailing her form. Unable to meet his eyes, she struggled to pull on her blazer again and then feigned absorption in the activities on the field.

The game progressed to a climactic conclusion, the home team scoring a touchdown in the final two minutes. Exiting the stadium was just as slow as entering had been. They walked side by side, his hand closed around the back of her neck, their hips bumping together as they walked.

“I wasn’t complaining, you know,” he said, causing her to blush.

“It wasn’t intentional,” she said tartly, pausing to face him until the tide of spectators shoved them forward again.

“I never thought it was. I’m sorry if what I said embarrassed you.”

The sincerity in his voice and eyes was too real to discount. She smiled her forgiveness. “And I’m sorry I acted so defensively.”

He squeezed the back of her neck lightly in understanding.

Once in his car and waiting in the line of traffic to leave the parking lot he said, “Do you mind stopping by my apartment? I have to change shirts and pick up a tie.”

“Fine,” she said, smiling, though her heart lurched at the thought of being alone with him again without the protection of a crowd of witnesses.

His duplex was a few blocks off campus in one of the more modern sections of town, an area no less quiet and private than Shelley’s neighborhood. He opened her door and helped her out of the low-slung car, escorting her up the stone walkway to his front door, which was flush with the straight Georgian facade of the house.

“I don’t have a cozy front porch like yours,” he said.

“But you have a wonderful apartment,” she replied, stepping inside. The lower level consisted of one large room with a fireplace and big paned windows. Behind louvered barroom doors, she could see a tiny kitchen. A spiral staircase led to a bedroom loft. One circular table in the main room was littered with textbooks on government and law, the thickness of which intimidated her. Magazines and records were piled onto bookshelves. Folders were stuffed into filing cabinets. It was neat, but well lived in.

“There’s a half bath on the other side of the kitchen if you need to freshen up,” he said, winding his way up the staircase.

“I’m fine. I think I’ll repair my makeup though.” She riffled through her purse, wishing her fingers would not shake so. She finally gave up finding a lipstick and opened her mirror compact.