Free A Kiss Remembered by Sandra Brown Page B

shoulders. “Trust me, Shelley. I’m not lying about this.”
    Her eyes roved his face. There was no disguising the anxiety there. “I believe you, Grant.”
    He sighed and released his death grip on her shoulders. “Thank you for that.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Shall we go? I can’t jeopardize my position on this faculty by being late to the chancellor’s party.”
    A short time later, they left the duplex. He had retrieved his sportcoat from upstairs and knotted a necktie under his shirt collar. Shelley had retreated to the half bath to freshen her makeup—which truly needed it now—and to brush her hair.
    The chancellor lived on an estate owned by the university. Set on a hill, the house was an imposing colonial with six white columns across a broad front porch. Grant parked the Datsun at the foot of the hill and they started up the incline on foot.
    His voice was deceptively innocent as he asked, “If the business in Washington wasn’t the reason, why did you stop me, Shelley?”
    Her footsteps faltered on the gravel driveway. He clasped her elbow and urged her on. “I need more time,” she said in a low voice. “I need to know if what I’m feeling now is real or just an extension of what I felt for you ten years ago.”
    That was a lie. She knew she loved him, always had, always would. But she didn’t want him to know that yet. “I’m not sure I want to get involved with anyone right now. I’ve had a difficult time getting my life together. Now that it looks like I might make something of it, I’m afraid to gamble.”
    She stopped and faced him. “I haven’t changed much since high school. At least where morals are concerned. Sex isn’t a casual pastime to me. I couldn’t sleep with you one night, and the next day go blithely on my way as though nothing had happened.”
    His eyes were lit with an internal flame that burned into hers. “I’m glad you feel that way. Because once I slept with you, I doubt I’d ever be able to let you go.”
    Flabbergasted by what he’d said and the profound way he’d said it, she remained mesmerized by his eyes. Finally, forcing herself out of the trance, she said, “Besides we’re still teacher and student.”
    He tossed his head back and let out a short laugh. “You can always fall back on that, can’t you?” She returned his grin as he steered her up the steps to the porch. “Come up with a better excuse, Shelley. Who the hell cares about
that
?”
    Chancellor Martin did.
    The cocktail—or rather wine—party was as stuffy and dull as Grant had predicted it would be. They were ceremoniously greeted by a receiving line as soon as the butler let them in the door. Chancellor Martin’s physical appearance was perfectly suited to his career as an academician. He was austere, gray-haired, high of brow, tall in stature. He handled his introduction to Shelley graciously enough, but she felt that his shrewd blue eyes were sizing her up.
    His wife, a stout matron with gray hair a shade bluer than her husband’s, spoke to Grant and Shelley with an insincere smile carved onto her face. She seemed more interested in adjusting the cluster of diamonds pinned to her ample bosom than in them.
    “Can you imagine Mrs. Martin writhing in the throes of passion?” Grant asked out of the corner of his mouth as they moved away. Shelley nearly dropped her glass of wine. She had accepted it from the silver tray another rented-for-the-evening butler was passing around. She was convulsed with silent laughter.
    “Shut up,” Shelley ground out between her teeth as she tried to maintain a decorous mien. “You’re going to make me spill my wine and then I’ll have to have this blouse dry-cleaned, when otherwise I might get by with wearing it one more time.”
    They mingled, and Shelley couldn’t help noticing that the women in the room, faculty members and spouses alike, gravitated to Grant like homing pigeons. She was sickened by their subtle questions,