Page 34 of Falling for Mindy

I wanted him to take me home with him and fuck me again. I didn’t want to talk about his moral dilemma or his integrity. I wanted the sweet tenderness of his touch and the breathtaking ecstasy of his penetration that nearly made me black out earlier. I wanted down and dirty sex, no complications. That was just a fantasy, and he was right, but I didn’t want to admit it, anymore than I wanted to admit what I felt for him.

“It’s the right thing to do. We have to stop,” he said. I flattered myself that he sounded a fraction as miserable as I felt. Since I’d never felt about anyone the way I felt about him. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay. Just stop apologizing.”

I didn’t even look at him. I just got my stuff and hurried out of his office before he could see me cry.

CHAPTER 20

KYLE

What in the hell was I going to do?

It was a meeting, a scheduled appointment to follow up after her shift at the job center. The meeting that was a component of her internship, the internship I supervised. Because I had agreed to do a favor for a colleague, never for a minute imagining I was completely incapable of doing the job. Not when Melinda Sayers was the intern in question. Not when every word she said seemed to make some string within me vibrate in answer, as if I felt what she was feeling.

It was terrifying and intense and wrong. I had failed. I hadn’t resisted the temptation to kiss and touch her again. I had defiled her in my office, right on my desk. Except she didn’t act like she’d been defiled. She acted like she was every bit as satisfied as I was, like she was still in that bleary space where everything dissolved to pure sensation.

Then she looked and sounded like she was hurt and angry. I had apologized, had given her not half of the apology I owed her as a woman and a student. She had practically broken a leg demanding that I stopped saying I was sorry. In some way, she hated hearing that. Perhaps it was insulting that I was taking all the blame as if she hadn’t had any choice in the matter. That might be it.

Or it might be that she hungered for me the way I hungered for her. That would make things significantly worse.

The only way I could see to make this situation better was to get out of it. It was time for an escape hatch. I’d proven I couldn’t be trusted to uphold my integrity and reputation, so I had to get out of town. It was the only way I could guarantee we wouldn’t have a repeat performance of that scene in my office.

I would’ve liked to pretend I had started kissing her because she was upset about her client. The truth was, if she’d come in my office complaining that they didn’t put a double shot of espresso in her coffee at the drive up, I still would’ve taken her in my arms and kissed her senseless. It wasn’t just about comfort. It was raw need, and I couldn’t get away from it no matter how hard I tried.

So I did something unusual, for me at least. I called in a favor. Three years ago, a guy in my department had to fly home to Pakistan for a funeral, and I covered the first two weeks of his classes for him. I gave him a call, and asked him to sub for me in class, just the section Mindy was in, actually. I’d provide the plans and do the grading, but I had a personal issue I needed to deal with. Maybe I’d go see my mom. Maybe I’d go find the bottom of a tequila bottle or three. It didn’t much matter, as long as I put time and distance between Mindy and me.

He agreed, and I felt relief as I expected, but some regret as well. God knew I looked forward to seeing her, talking to her. So I was giving her up, letting her have space away from me to get her head together and focus on her coursework. If, as Aaron had said, there might be a future for us together, it was weeks away. And breathing room was what we both needed.

I almost called her. Of all stupid ideas, I caught myself ready to dial her number and tell her I was taking off for a couple weeks and for her to move on and forget me. As if contacting her wasn’t the opposite of what I was trying to achieve. I needed a drink with the guys, and I needed to get my head on straight.

Before I left my office, I composed a terse email to both interns. We’d be meeting together from here on out. It was a matter of scheduling efficiency and I’d explain it to the foundation that granted the internship as such. There would be no more one-on-ones with Mindy. I couldn’t trust myself. This would give me a safety net, a way forward. Back when the semester started, the bachelors had suggested something like it—a chaperone, a camera, a group. Something to keep me honest. I’d been insulted then. Now, too late, I saw the wisdom of how they had tried to watch my back.

A long weekend of workouts and grading gave way to faculty and committee meetings and teaching classes. On Tuesday at the appointed time, Jeffrey and Mindy turned up at my office for debriefing. They sat down and I almost glared at them, trying to ignore how uncomfortable I was, how I didn’t even like this Chambers kid sitting by Mindy much less being here in my office as an inconvenient witness. Which was the point of his being here, obviously. But I resented it just the same.

“Can both of you meet at this time on the new schedule?” I asked.

“Sure, no problem,” Jeff said. Mindy hesitated and then nodded.

“Sure,” she echoed, but I could tell from her tone she wasn’t agreeing happily.

“Mr. Chambers, let’s start with you. How was your shift yesterday?” I asked, giving him my attention, pretending not to notice when she crossed and uncrossed her legs, when she reached for her laptop to take notes.

“The clients seem less nervous around me now that they’re used to me. I guess they don’t get a lot of guys there, especially women’s studies majors.”

“With their trauma profile, it’s not surprising they didn’t feel comfortable with you at first. I trust you were able to reassure them of your professionalism,” I said.

“Yes. And two of the women I’ve worked with have got a job now. One is doing some cleaning at an office building. I made sure she was on a crew with other women and not just a bunch of men, for safety reasons.”

“That was considerate of you. I hope you include it in your reflection. And you, Ms. Sayers?” I asked coolly.

“Fine,” she replied equally as icy.

“Did Adeline have any news on the client who didn’t make it to her appointment?” I inquired.

“No. The apartment she’d been living in was empty and the police said that stuff was turned over and papers on the floor, like it had been ransacked. But nobody was there, and the door was wide open. We haven’t heard from her at all.” It was clear from the strain in her voice that she was worried about Alicia.

She shifted in her chair.

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