Free Memoir in the Making: A May-December Romance by Adrian J. Smith Page A

again, I would gladly do so.”
    “I don’t make a habit of getting drunk.”
    “You don’t?”
    “I do not,” Ainsley answered, her eyes narrowed. “And I would prefer to see you sober. Makes it a much more pleasant visit.”
    Meredith shuddered. The way Ainsley said the word pleasant had tingles racing through her body and gathering in one distinct place. God, I would give anything to get up and walk over right now, Meredith thought. She wanted to kiss her when they were both fully aware of everything.
    “It wasn’t unpleasant,” Meredith answered, her voice hitching on the last word.
    “I remember.”
    “Do you?”
    “I do,” Ainsley said. “I remember you helping me inside. I remember talking to you—kissing you.”
    Meredith swallowed. Ainsley’s voice slowed down, and Meredith detected a hint of a drawl when she said the last two words. Her heart was ready to pound its way out of her chest, and she was certain her cheeks were far more flushed than she wanted them to be. Everything in her body was giving her away to Ainsley and letting Ainsley know exactly what she was doing.
    Taking a deep gasp of breath, Meredith nodded. “And I assume you remember what I said afterward.”
    “That we would talk in the morning.”
    “I didn’t think you remembered. You didn’t bring it up.”
    “How was I supposed to bring it up? You’re my professor.”
    Meredith nodded and closed her eyes, sighing. And that was just it. She was Ainsley’s professor, not some college student who got wrapped up in dreams of uncomplicated love. She wasn’t some young kid on the block anymore; she’d been around the block more than once and the last time…the last time she had promised was going to be her last.
    “It doesn’t affect anything. You were drunk, Ainsley. I’m sorry if you think it does, but it doesn’t. I don’t want you to think it changes my opinion of you in anyway. I don’t know how to make you believe that.”
    “I believe it on some level.”
    Meredith narrowed her eyes. “And what level is that.”
    Ainsley stood up, setting her backpack on the chair before walking over to Meredith. Her hips swayed with each step, and Meredith’s gaze was brought back to Ainsley’s breasts when she leaned over the chair, her lips particularly close to Meredith’s ear.
    “I don’t think you’ll grade me differently.”
    “Then why—”
    “Because it’s fun to watch.”
    Ainsley backed off. She picked up her bag and made for the door.
    Meredith fumbled for words, her body working in overdrive. Ainsley had been so forward—no one had ever been that forward with her before. She took a heave of a breath before she shook her head.
    “Ainsley, I did ask you to meet with me for a reason.”
    “Oh?”
    “I want you to rework your piece a bit, enter a contest.”
    “What contest?”
    Meredith turned in her desk and grabbed a piece of paper off it, handing it over to Ainsley. She waited for a brief moment as Ainsley scanned the piece and then looked up at her.
    “I think you have a good chance of winning it.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes, really?”
    Ainsley smiled, bright and beautiful. Meredith grinned back, warmth spreading throughout her limbs as Ainsley turned and left the room without another word. If anything, her afternoon had certainly been far more interesting than she had anticipated. Meredith turned back to her desk, ready to do one more lesson plan before she shut down her office for the weekend.
     

Chapter Seven
    Meredith finished baking most of the chicken potpie at home. All she needed to do was heat it up at Sam’s and it would be ready for them to eat. She’d made one for each of them even though she didn’t know if Jeremy would be able to dine with them or not. She pulled them out of the oven just as they were finished cooking and set them each on a cookie sheet to be able to transport them more easily.
    The wine on her counter was already drunk, and she didn’t want to refill her glass