Page 39 of A Kiss Remembered

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“It would only take one telephone call and the story of our upcoming wedding and the discriminatory attitude of this university would be smeared in headlines all over the country. You’re afraid that our romance will damage the reputation of this university? I don’t think you can begin to fathom the furor that that one telephone call could create.

“Think about it,” he finished succinctly. Standing, he offered his hand to Shelley. “Shelley,” he said, giving her one of his warm, reassuring smiles.

He drew her toward the door, but before they were halfway there, the chancellor stopped them. “Wait!” he exclaimed in a panicky voice.

Slowly they turned around to face him. He wet his lips with a nervous tongue and ran his palms down the sides of his coat as though to blot them. “I had no idea you were planning to be married. S-so soon. Of course, this sheds an entirely different light on the situation. Once it’s explained to … uh … Dr… . the donor, I’m sure he’ll understand.”

He paused, hoping he’d be thanked. Grant stared back at him solemnly. Martin made an effort to smile, but it was unsuccessful. “Your chairman is most pleased with the way you’re handling your classes, Mr. Chapman. We might even be persuaded to offer you an increase in salary once your contract is reviewed by the board.” He wiped his hands on his coat again. “And as Mrs. Robins has been on the dean’s list since her first semester, there was never any real possibility of her expulsion.”

“Yes. That would have been ludicrous, wouldn’t it? Good-bye, Chancellor.”

“Chancellor Martin,” Shelley said by way of good-bye as Grant held the door for her. When he closed it softly behind them, she turned to him and leaned against him weakly.

“Daryl. How could he?” she whispered.

“Because he’s a selfish, petty bastard, that’s why.”

A scandalized gasp from the receptionist brought their attention to her. She was staring at them, her claw-like hand clutching at the material over her meager breast protectively.

“Oh, for godsake,” Grant growled. “Let’s get out of here before I do something rash.”

The days went by quickly because they were both busy. Shelley attended her classes as usual and Grant had lectures to prepare and present. In his classroom, she maintained her seat near the back of the room, keeping a low profile.

They spent as many waking hours together as possible. Grant was only at his duplex long enough to pick up his mail and sleep away the remaining hours of the night after returning late from Shelley’s house.

“I don’t know why I’m paying rent,” he told her. “The guy who lives next door told me someone was there looking for me today. Package delivery or something.”

They had decided to sublet his apartment and live in her house until her graduation. “There’s more space in your house,” Grant said reasonably. “I can make that extra bedroom into an office.”

“What about an office for me?”

“We’ll share it.”

“There’s only room for one desk and chair.”

“You can sit on my lap.”

“No way.”

“Okay, then I’ll sit on your lap.”

She wa

s trying desperately to keep a straight face. “I may start thinking of you only as a sex object.”

He grabbed her then, pulling her to him and molding her to a body that was ever hungry for her. “Every guy should be so lucky.”

Her parents were notified of the marriage and after the initial shock and a long, reassuring conversation with Grant, they promised to be in attendance Sunday afternoon.

Shelley was now completely confident in her decision to marry Grant. His loving thoughtfulness was nothing akin to Daryl’s self-centeredness. Though Grant had a recklessness to his nature, a rebellious bent, she admitted that that was part of his attractiveness. She knew, too, that she wasn’t harboring any adolescent infatuation. She was in love with the man, not with a fond memory of her youth. And they had even overcome the stigma attached to their relationship, if the silver tray sent by the board of directors as a wedding present were any indication.

Nothing could stand in the way of their happiness now.

“Oh, Grant!” she cried, stamping her foot.

He slumped against the doorframe, helpless with laughter.

“I thought you were my parents,” she said crossly.


Tags: Sandra Brown Romance