By Proxy (18 page)

He leaned his head down toward her, then stopped deliberately, his lips a breath away from hers, closing his eyes, waiting. Her heart was racing and her breathing was so fast and so ragged she knew he could feel it hot on his lips every time she exhaled. She could feel his, too, see the puffs of white between them as he exhaled.

Her heart drummed in her chest, making her breathless and hot as she stared at his face. There was nothing she wanted more in the world than to kiss him, but she was scared too. She felt herself falling for him, unable to keep herself from thinking about him, fantasizing about him. She worried about her heart when he was finally gone, for how much she would miss him.

“Jenny,” he whispered.

She was so deep in thought, she was almost startled to hear his voice. His eyes were still closed and she twisted her neck slightly so that her ear was beside his lips to better hear him.

“Y-yes?”

“Stop thinking,” he said, his warmth breath on her ear making her shudder in his arms.

She couldn’t have stopped herself even if she wanted. She closed her eyes, and her lips brushed against his as she turned toward him. Soft and pliant, his lower lip she took between hers, gently caressing it, kissing it, loving the feeling of being in his arms, of being in control of what was happening between them. He released her hands, moving his to the small of her back, and she raised hers to the nape of his neck where her cold fingers ran gingerly through the short hairs that curled behind his ears. He groaned and his lips finally moved then, like he couldn’t help himself anymore, intensifying their kiss, pulling at her upper lip, moving her closer to his body.

His tongue pushed gently between her lips, and she sighed into his mouth, touching her tongue to his and marveling at the heat, the satiny heat, of his tongue stroking hers. His hands slid from her back to her hips, his fingers pressing through her coat, and she wished there weren’t so many layers between them. She wished his hands were pulling and pushing her clothes away, finding her skin, spanning the soft, untouched skin of her belly. She wished his hands would slide up from her tummy to her breasts, cover them, cup them, touch them as she’d never been touched before in her life. The intensely erotic thought made Jenny’s nipples pucker and she felt a sharp burst of sensation fan out from her chest, making her breathless, making her want more of Sam, more, more, more…

She ran her fingers through his hair with more pressure, and he pulled her closer until she felt the hard bulge behind the zipper of his jeans pressing into her. Her mind exploded with a hundred wanton wishes, and she instinctively stepped closer to him this time, wanting him to know that she felt him, wanting him to know that despite her innocence, her body wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

He pulled back from her, whispering her name, a note of warning in his tone. “Jenny.”

She dropped her hands and turned her head away gently, resting her forehead on his shoulder, feeling relieved and deprived at once. She knew she wasn’t ready for more, but being with Sam felt so good, so right, she was confused and overwhelmed by feelings and sensations she’d never experienced before. She kept her eyes closed, savoring the shivers of pleasure along her spine. Her insides were in riot; her whole body was electric, like it was suddenly wired for touch, and every nerve ending begged for more.

She gathered her wits, coming out of the fog of passion, feeling grateful to Sam for stopping their steamy kiss when he did.

No more. Not now. Steady now, Jenny.

Sam slid his hands to her lower back, pulling her closer, and she could feel his chest move up and down roughly; she knew if she moved her ear to his heart the thumping would be deafening because she felt the same fierce drumbeat in her own chest.

He held her for awhile then she felt his hands slacken and his arms loosen around her. She lifted her head to look at him, and he smiled at her, shaking his head in wonder.

“
Now
you’ve kissed me with that mouth.”

She chuckled quietly, surprised by his words, nodding her head. “So I have.”

He pulled away from her, lacing his fingers through hers and sighing as they started walking again. “But, I think I should go back to my hotel.”

“Oh.” She felt deflated and confused. She hadn’t seen this coming. Had she done something wrong? Was it possible in her inexperience that she’d misunderstood what was happening between them?

“Jenny? To be clear, there is
nothing
I would like more than to come up to your apartment with you. But another kiss like that and…well, I just don’t trust myself.”

“Oh!” She understood, and it made her smile. He wasn’t leaving her because he didn’t like her. He was leaving her because he did like her, and—more importantly—because he respected her. It made her heart burst with relief to know he liked her and with tenderness, that he stopped in spite of his feelings for her.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked in a soft, heavy voice, drawing her knuckles to his lips to press a kiss against them.

“Church, then…”

“Then spending the day with me?”

“Okay.”

They stopped in a dark corner by her apartment door and he smiled, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. He took his time pressing his hot lips against her cold skin, leaning into her. She rotated slightly so that she was flush against his body, felt the rough stubble of his beard on her cheek, the warmth of his skin near her face. She closed her eyes, heart-stirring sensations rising up from her belly, making her want to melt into him and never let go. Her hands were trapped between them and she flattened them on his chest, marveling at the hard muscles she could feel through his clothes, wondering if she should throw caution to the wind and invite him upstairs despite his warning.

“What time should I be at church?” he whispered into her ear, putting his hands on her hips.

“Nine.” She murmured, feeling her knees weaken.

“Nine is good.” He found her earlobe with his teeth, teasing it gently and sending surges of tingly pleasure down her neck. She sighed and tilted her head to give him better access, be closer to him, closer to the source of her pleasure.
Oh, my God, this feels good. This feels amazing. More. Please, more.

She forced herself back to their conversation.
Church. Tomorrow.

“It’s near…the high school…” She sighed, eyes closed, barely able to concentrate on anything but the touch of his lips trailing fire down her neck.

“I remember.” He breathed, brushing his lips across her skin, his face next to hers, his hands softly molding her hips against him.

She lifted her face to smile at him, feeling dreamy and needy and still wanting more but knowing it was time to say goodnight. He took a long look at her face and chuckled softly, dropping his hands from her trembling body. “’Night, Pretty Girl. See you tomorrow.”

“’Night, Sam.” She turned, walking through the door to her apartment, and when she looked back once more, he was gone.

***

Casey was quick to do her business, thank goodness, and Jenny was glad to change out of her pretty clothes and into her comfy pajamas, warm inside for the night. She sat on the loveseat with a sleeping Casey curled up in her lap. Jenny’s body and mind were a jumble of confusion, totally at odds with one another.

On one hand, her body felt taut like that humming guitar string she imagined connecting her to Sam. She had never felt so desired, so wanted, so alive. She also felt frustrated, unrequited, hot in places she barely allowed herself to think about. She touched her lips with her fingers, searching for the imprint of Sam’s lips on hers.

In twenty-four years, she had never felt anything close to the awakening she felt tonight. It was exciting and terrifying all at once and she yearned for more.

On the other hand, her mind, her poor, sensible head was losing this battle wildly, going down in flames and smoke. She hadn’t even tried to control her thoughts tonight. If anything, she had flat-out ignored all of the reasonable, sober advice she’d given herself the night before. But ignoring it didn’t change its value or veracity. Sam was still leaving on Monday, of that she was certain. He would return to Chicago to resume his life there, and she’d be left alone in Gardiner with a handful of beautiful memories.

She flicked on the TV and surfed the channels but found she didn’t have the heart for a Christmas movie after all. She turned it off, staring blankly at the dark gray screen.

How can I bear to say good-bye?
To live with excitement and attraction and the possibility of love one day only to have it ripped away the next?
The possibility of love.
She couldn’t possibly be falling in love with Sam—she had barely known him for more than a day. The
possibility
of love, though, was real and felt imminent and far safer than love itself.

How will I bear it?
She swallowed, running her hand absentmindedly over Casey’s soft fur, deep in thought. And then she knew. Without flowery words or comforting explanations she heard the words in her head
: I will bear it. I will. Because the alternative
—not making the most of these precious days with Sam—
is impossible.

“I will say good-bye, and I will bear it,” she whispered.

Throwing caution to the wind wasn’t a familiar path for Jenny, though, and in spite of her determination to enjoy every minute until they parted on the steps of the old Livingston Courthouse, a creeping melancholy began its assault on her unprotected heart.

***

Sam wasn’t ready to go inside. His body was revved up and humming, and he needed to clear his head before he was trapped in that tiny hotel room for the night. He parked his car and walked around the hotel grounds. There wasn’t much to see: a covered swimming pool and basketball courts, surrounded by a few well-worn picnic tables. He sat up on top of one of the ice-covered picnic tables, buttoning up his coat and hugging himself against the cold.

He’d never get used to winter night skies in Montana and never stop longing for them when he was far away from them. They were as much a part of him as being half Swedish or half Irish or having two sisters, simply but irrevocably a part of who he was. He found Cassiopeia easily, remembering Jenny pointing it out to him earlier. What had she called it? “The Vain Queen.” He ruefully wondered why they hadn’t named it Pepper instead.

Pepper. Chicago.
He breathed in deeply, the cold air stinging the inside of his nose and making his eyes water. He thought about his description of Christmas in Chicago and closed his eyes against the shame of the plastic fakeness he had illustrated for her. A custom-designed silver and turquoise Christmas tree in his building’s lobby? Parties with models dressed in skimpy elf outfits offering high-end vodka shots? He hadn’t really given it much thought over the years, but it was awful when he considered it now, juxtaposed against Jenny’s heartwarming traditions. Sam’s Christmas season was mostly about wild parties, an excuse to let loose and get drunk, annoying crowds of bustling people on the streets making his commute fifteen minutes longer. The real meaning of Christmas—the real
reason
—was totally forgotten by him until Christmas Eve, when he gave the Christmas story his brief and patronizing attention.
What a charming children’s story. What’s for dinner, Mom?

He was ashamed, even scared, to return to the cold, materialistic life he’d created for himself. Desperately, he wished Jenny could be there with him, to ground him with her no-nonsense reason, to bring her warmth and homespun goodness, to give significance to a place fast losing all meaning to him
.
I need Jenny in Chicago.

He thought of her face before they had parted tonight. She had no idea she had been looking at him with the most mind-blowing bedroom eyes he had ever seen, and it had made every cell in his body fight against his decision to leave. He had never been with anyone so unpracticed and genuine; she was just Jenny opening herself to romantic love, he believed, for the first time in her life. That she chose to open herself to Sam was intoxicating and humbling at once, and he couldn’t let go of her now.
I want Jenny in Chicago.

Suddenly, he had an idea. It burst into his mind fully formed, and he jumped off the picnic table and strode quickly into the main lobby. He approached the girl at the front desk. “Hey, if I needed to print something out, could you do that for me?”

“Of course, sir. Business?” she asked.

“Airline tickets,” he responded and ran to his room to grab his iPad.

***

He had set his alarm for eight o’clock just to be safe. He knew good and well how Jenny felt about tardiness, and with only one more day together, he wanted it to be perfect. He walked to the little church, a little less than two miles from his hotel; past Jenny’s apartment, over the bridge and down the street near the park to Grace Church. He was amazed by how good it felt, after years of eschewing church for partying, to shower, shave, put on his suit and coat and walk to church. No hangover, no bimbo to awkwardly get rid of, no long meaningless weekend day to fill. Maybe Jenny—and his folks, every Sunday of his childhood—were on to something.

He walked up the steps of the church jauntily and scanned the small sanctuary for Jenny. He stood in the back vestibule for a moment, searching for her amidst the bustling congregation seated in the pews, parishioners visiting with one another before the service started. It didn’t take long for him to find her. It would have been impossible to miss the five blond heads lined up near the front of the church.
Lindstrom, party of five?
He made his way up the aisle to the second pew.

Jenny had saved him the aisle seat and turned to catch his eye as he was about halfway down the aisle
. Looking for me, huh?

“Bet you thought I’d be late,” he whispered, taking the seat beside her.

She smiled at him. “You don’t have the most punctual track record.”