Brendan was barely through the door of his office the next morning when Brink rushed in behind him. “So just how serious are you about your gorgeous blond neighbor?”
“Who says there’s anything serious going on?” He waited a beat, but he couldn’t stand the suspense. “Gorgeous, huh? What does she look like?”
“Hot,” Brink said promptly. “Very, very hot. Tall, legs long enough—”
“Her face,” Brendan said sharply. “Just her face.”
“She’s pretty,” Brink said simply. “She wasn’t wearing makeup the day I saw her, and I don’t think I’d have picked her out of a crowd right away, but it wouldn’t have taken long once I’d gotten a good look at her face. Great cheekbones, full lips, dimples. That damnably sexy dimple in her chin. Nice teeth. Big blue come-hither eyes—”
“Okay. You can stop there.”
Brink laughed. “Uh-oh. Jealousy gene kicking in?”
“No need. She’s mine.”
“Are you kidding me?” Brink sounded astonished.
“Not one little bit. Hands off, buddy boy.”
“Damn.” Brink sounded aggrieved. “There’s no justice in the world. You can’t even see her and you still get the hottest woman in this town. You could have found a sweet girl, a girl with a wonderful personality, a girl with wit and charm. It wouldn’t have mattered if she was uglier than a mud fence, but no, you have to take one of the pretty ones.”
Brendan nodded with satisfaction, laughing hard. From the very day of his accident, Brink had been irreverent and amusing, refusing to dance around the topic of Brendan’s blindness. “A mud fence, huh? Thanks so much for thinking of me.”
“No problem. What are friends for? So are you going to bring her to the Christmas party?”
“The thought had crossed my mind. Have you managed to snag a date yet?”
“Amanda from the accounting firm across the street.”
“The one you’ve been taking to lunch? The one you said looked like a Meg Ryan who is quiet and mysterious?”
“The very one.”
“Way to go.”
“Yeah. We’re going to have the greatest dates in the room.” Brendan heard the sound of his friend’s footsteps heading for the door. Then Brink turned around again. “So, you never answered me…how serious are you about her?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Very.”
“Like rings and vows serious?”
Brendan nodded. “Yeah. But we haven’t known each other very long. I don’t want to rush her.”
“I don’t know, bro,” said Brink before he headed to his own office. “That is one incredibly gorgeous girl. You’d better not wait too long.”
Lynne’s cell phone rang that afternoon as she was walking home from a new-member meeting at the church she’d begun attending. She had Feather with her since the pastor had told her it would be fine to bring the dog along. Happiness rose as she glanced at the display: Brendan. He’d insisted they exchange phone numbers and e-mail addresses before they’d parted that morning.
“Hello?”
“Hey, sweetheart. How’d your meeting go?”
“It just ended. I think I am going to join. I really like the church.”
“Guess I’ll have to check it out.”
She almost dropped the phone. What did that mean? Don’t read too much into it, Lynne. “You’re welcome to come with me anytime.”
“It’s a date this Sunday.” He shifted gears. “Do you have plans for dinner?”
“No. I was just going to make a meat loaf.” She was still back on the “date this Sunday” line. “Ah, would you like to come over?”
“That would be great. I can’t get home before six. I’ll be over as soon as I feed Cedar.”
“All right. See you then.”
“I miss you. I haven’t been able to think of anything but you all day.”
She stopped dead. “Oh, Brendan. I feel the same way.” She lowered her voice. “Hurry home so I can show you how much I missed you.” Had she really just said that?
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the connection. Then he spoke again, his voice deep and rough. “I’m holding you to that, sweetheart.”
At home she mixed up a pan of brownies and baked them. While they cooled, she put fresh sheets on her bed. Just in case. Then she made the meat loaf and put it in the oven with two baked potatoes. She’d steam some asparagus right before they were ready to eat.
Glancing at the clock, she saw she had time for a quick shower. Good. She pinned up her hair and jumped in the shower. When she finished, she glanced at the clock. Five-thirty. She was in fine time.
She shrugged into her robe and began to take down her hair—and froze as the doorbell rang. Rats. Who could that be? Brendan wasn’t due home yet.
But when she went to the door, Feather already stood there, her tail beating a mad rhythm.
She pulled the door open. “You’re early!” Then she stopped and looked around. “Where’s Cedar?”
“I got away quicker than expected,” Brendan said. “He’s already been fed.” He shut the door and pulled her to him. “Come here.”
As he slid his arms around her, plastering her against his body, she shuddered with raw need. How could he do that? One minute she was fine, the next she felt as if she were going to evaporate in a cloud of steam.
“Kiss me.” She wound her arms around his neck, lifting her face to his.
After a moment, though, it was clear that Feather wasn’t going to let herself be excluded. With a laugh, Brendan released Lynne and knelt to snuggle his retired guide. Finally he rose and they walked together into the kitchen where he kenneled her.
He turned then and took Lynne’s hand. They walked back into the living room and he immediately pulled Lynne into his arms again. But soon he drew back. “What are you wearing?” His hands were already on the belt of her terry cloth robe, pulling it open and sliding inside to caress her bare curves.
“Brendan! We’re in the living room!”
“So? Are the curtains closed?”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing.” He began to kiss her again, while his hands roamed over her, stroking and teasing, brushing repeatedly over her nipples with his thumbs until they were tight little peaks and electric sensation shot straight from her breasts to her womb with each touch. She writhed against him, but he only backed her against the wall and continued to stroke her, his hand sliding down the flat plane of her soft belly to brush the tight curls at the vee of her legs.
He shifted one knee against her, pressing until she widened her stance, and she moaned aloud as his warm hand probed deep between her legs, sliding along the tender seam, gently opening her and spreading the slick moisture he found there.
She let her head drop back against the wall and her body sagged in surrender as he bent his head to suckle her. Then she moaned again as she felt the advance of one long finger inside her, slipping in, slipping out, rubbing the throbbing bud that he uncovered at the apex of her thighs.
“Brendan,” she gasped. “I can’t—I can’t—”
“You can,” he said with determination, sliding a second finger into her. He rotated the pad of his thumb against her again and she clenched her teeth together to prevent the scream that wanted to escape. And then he touched her again and the world exploded, her body heaving and buckling against him as he ruthlessly drove her over the edge with his hand, prolonging her responses until she quivered with aftershocks. Gently he withdrew his hand, and the simple action made her briefly jerk against him again.
“Wow,” she murmured. “If that’s how you always come through the door, I’m going to need to take more vitamins.”
He laughed, hugging her against him. “Let’s make it a habit.”
As she rested against him, she realized that while she might be relaxed, he was far from it. And when she slipped her hand down to cradle the bulge at the front of his trousers, he said, “Maybe we should find a bed.”
“Or not.” Before he could move, she dropped to her knees before him.
“What are you doing?” It was rhetorical, his voice deep with arousal and anticipation.
Slowly she unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and spread the fabric wide. He wore blue-and-white-striped boxers beneath, and she slipped one hand into the front opening, wrapping her fingers firmly around him and gently beginning to stroke the taut column of flesh she found.
“Lynne,” he said in a guttural voice above her head, “you’re going to kill me.”
She smiled as she withdrew her hand and tugged the boxers out and down. “I hope not.” He was fully aroused, and as he fell free, she leaned forward and caught the very tip of him with her lips. His back arched and his hands curled into fists for a moment, and then he bent and hauled her to her feet. In one smooth move, he lifted her and braced her against the door, then guided himself to her.
There was one breathless moment where she felt that the world was suspended, that everything around her was balanced on a knife-edge of desire—
—and then he took her hips in his big hands and pulled her firmly down, thrusting forward in one long, smooth stroke until he was lodged deep inside her receptive channel. Bracing his arms against the wall on either side of her head, he began to move steadily, his buttocks flexing as he pushed into her again and again.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, pleasure so intense that she was barely able to form conscious thought. She felt a fist of need drawing tight, deep in her belly. Her arousal was fueled by her awareness of his rising excitement, and as he surged against her in the final moment of his own satisfaction, her body hurled her into climax as well. She bucked and writhed, the wall hard at her back and Brendan hard within her, until both of them were panting.
Brendan began to chuckle. “My knees feel like overcooked spaghetti. Can you walk?”
“I’m not sure.” She wasn’t kidding.
Slowly he lifted her off him and lowered her until her feet touched the floor. He held her hips until she locked her knees. She started to laugh then. “We need to get horizontal before we fall down.”
“Good plan.” He stepped out of his pants and shoes, tore off his shirt and socks, and then, gloriously naked, bent and lifted her into his arms.
“What are you doing?” she gasped.
“Give me directions.”
“But I’m too heavy. Put me down.”
“Directions,” he said again, “or we’re not going to get to a bed.”
“Two steps forward and turn right!”
Eight
The next two weeks were the happiest days Lynne was sure she’d ever known in her life. She and Brendan ate dinner, cared for the dogs and spent every night together, usually in her apartment. The weekend following the first night they’d made love, Brendan came running with her.
Neither of them was exactly sure how well it was going to work. Brendan still ran on a treadmill but he hadn’t jogged outside since his sighted days. But he told her there was another guide dog user in one of his online groups who had run the New York Marathon with her husband. They used a sighted-guide technique, although it was different from the typical right-hand-to-left-elbow position for walking.
So after consultation with the woman, they set out one morning for the long, straight roads that ran through the battlefield. Because of the huge volume of tourist traffic in the summer, the roads were kept in good repair. But in mid-December, there was next to no traffic.
They walked out to the battlefield to warm up, and stretched. It felt odd not to have Cedar, but the guide dog school that had trained him had given him strict warnings about not running with his dog. It was too easy to overheat a dog who was already wearing a harness, and too dangerous. He had no wish to circumvent the school’s dictates on such an important issue. It was, he told her, a little different than letting the dog claim a spot on one piece of furniture.
Brendan produced a wide cotton band he’d gotten for their purpose, and they tethered themselves loosely together, her left wrist to his right.
Since each of them needed to be able to establish a steady breathing pattern, they worked out a system of non-verbal cues. He ran slightly ahead of her so that he could respond to tugs on his wrist. Her job was to cue him as well as to be sure there were no potholes or uneven spots in the road surface, and to be sure he was out of the path of oncoming vehicles.
“That was amazing!” He sounded utterly jubilant as they slowed to a walk and regained enough wind to speak again. He grabbed her with his free right arm and hauled her against him, seeking her lips. “Thank you so much. I never expected to be able to do that again.”
“We can make it a regular habit,” she told him when he released her. “Although from the sound of things, it might get tricky to find a safe time to run during tourist season.”
“Probably. These roads get unbelievably congested.” He nodded as they walked briskly back in the direction of their building. “You haven’t really lived in Gettysburg until you’ve been here when the tourists are. It’s like a plague of locusts.”
“It will be interesting. I’ve never lived anywhere that was such a distinct tourist attraction.” She couldn’t wait to experience the summer season. It would mean that she’d been here long enough to really put down roots, and she’d feel more as if she really belonged in the community and less as if she were still on a long-term visit.
She awoke in the middle of the night that night, realizing he was awake, also, though he hadn’t spoken. It was still a thrill to fall asleep in his arms and awake the same way. She supposed one day that would change, although she couldn’t imagine it, she decided, basking in the bone-deep contentment that had infused her.
He lay on his back with her snuggled into the crook of his arm, one of her legs twined with his. With his free hand, he idly wound a lock of her hair around and around.
“Brendan?”
“Hey.”
“What are you doing?”
He abandoned her hair and reached over to tilt her face up to his for a leisurely kiss. “I was just lying here thinking about how lucky I am to have met you.”
Her heart expanded a little more at the tender words. “It’s a mutual feeling.”
There was a comfortable silence. Then he said, “We never finished a conversation we started a couple of weeks ago.”
“What conversation?” She was sleepy, sated and supremely comfortable.
Beneath her cheek his chest moved up and down as he laughed. “At the risk of being tacky by bringing up another woman’s name while we’re in bed together, we were talking about Kendra.”
“Oh.” She considered it. “Tacky, but I’m listening.”
“I’d really like to tell you about her.” His voice had grown serious.
She lifted her hand and caressed his cheek. “Of course.”
“She was great after the accident. Very supportive, very determined not to let me sink into a pit of self-pity. She’s actually the one who suggested I get a dog.”
“Okay. Maybe I like her after all.”
He smiled and tugged on her hair. “I still cared for her but at the time I was totally immersed in myself. All I could think about was how my life had changed.”
“Understandable.”
“Maybe. Anyway, after about six months, I told her I couldn’t marry her. I had this dumb idea that now that I had such big physical challenges to live with, I couldn’t be the kind of husband she deserved.”
“That was remarkably stupid.”
He winced. “I know. I really hurt her. The one thing she asked me to promise her was that I’d go to counseling after we broke up. So I did. The psychologist I saw had also lost his vision in his twenties, and he was a big help in getting me to move past the ‘why me?’ stage and start living my life again. I got on the list for a dog and about six months later, I was matched with Feather.”
“So why didn’t you get together with Kendra again?”
She lay back down in the circle of his arm. “Not that I’m complaining.”
He smiled. “I felt guilty for ending it so badly, for a long time. And then I got to thinking that maybe I could fix it.” He rubbed her hair absently between his fingers as he spoke. “Looking back, I think it was more the familiarity of the known relationship than anything, but I decided I wanted her back.”
She tensed. She knew it, but she couldn’t help it. Brendan hesitated, but then he simply went on with his story. “She was still living in the same condo she’d been in, and I just showed up there one day. I rang the bell—and some guy I didn’t recognize answered the door. As soon as he saw me, he yelled for Kendra. Turns out she’d just gotten married.”
“Oh. Bad timing.”
“Yeah. I felt like an idiot. For a long time, I thought I still loved her. I was mad at myself for losing her, and mad at her for giving up on me, even though I know that’s not rational since I was the one who pushed her away.”
“Feelings aren’t always rational.”
“When I saw her the other day, it actually felt good to realize I didn’t care for her anymore. I didn’t resent her and I didn’t want her.” He tightened her arm, bringing her closer and kissing her temple. “I had moved on. I had met you.”
A bubble of happiness expanded within her, threatening to float her right up to the ceiling.
“I never felt this way about anyone,” he said. “I thought I loved Kendra, but I never felt about her the way I feel about you. I love you, Lynne.”
The happiness turned to apprehension, though, as she remembered that she had yet to share her own secret. She had to tell him who she’d been. She couldn’t imagine that it would matter, but…it wasn’t the kind of secret she should be keeping from the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. And she did.
“Sweetheart?” He shifted her to her back, looming over her in the darkness, a large silhouette with shoulders that blocked what little light there was. “What are you thinking?”
Holiday Confessions Page 10