by Nikki Duncan
“Not always.”
“Says the woman who continually gives her all to others while never asking for her own comfort.”
“I’ve just been doing my job.”
“Tremendously. But there’s more to it than that.” He had gotten emails from everyone they’d dealt with so far, each one praising the initiative. The joy that Jennalyn’s plans started was rippling into the community with regular people taking it upon themselves to perform miracles.
She’d mistaken his thoughts when their eyes had met at the concert. Yes, he’d been angry, but it had been aimed at himself. He’d assumed she would enjoy a tree, especially after watching her at the Ronald McDonald House. It had been part of the mask she seemed never to be without. It was the same mask that was revealed only by the opening of her closet. She was as messy on an emotional level as her closet was. Messy might be too mild a description. Chaos was a better fit.
He wanted her to see that he understood her. He valued the trust she’d placed in him. He cared enough not to push too far too fast.
“I’m growing to admire you more and more.”
“Ryland—”
He sealed whatever argument she might have behind her lips. With his. He didn’t step closer. He didn’t grab her beyond flattening his hand on her bicep. He didn’t move his lips against hers.
The kiss was a touch of lips in a quiet break from the world. It was nothing more. And so much more.
The touch of lips sparked a flame that spread through him. Blood. Bone. Muscle. Marrow. Every cell was touched.
The quiet break from the world became a breath that hummed around them. Silken. Sweet. Tingling. Testing. Every breath was broken.
His lids slid closed. His mind catalogued each impression. It was like he was dancing along a slick surface with the perfect partner. Then she leaned in, pressing her lips more fully to his.
Warmth became chills that raised the hair follicles on his arms. The moment suspended in perfection, as if the earth had stopped its rotation.
Her lips flexed. It was a tiny movement, one he felt to the depths of his tightening gut. Their energies danced. Weightless, he was poised at the edge of serenity. If he had wings, or a sprinkle of pixie dust, he would take flight. There was no happier moment than this one with Jennalyn close enough to breathe in.
He backed away, but only his lips and only for the sake of resting his forehead against hers. “You’re a tempting woman, JJ.”
She hooked a nail on one of his shirt buttons and tugged lightly. “How tempting?”
“Very.”
“Then stay. Sleep with me.”
His arms grew heavy with the desire to pull her close. He’d held her through the night once. The impression of her curves hugged against him was inescapable. Not that he wanted escape.
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Because of work?” Defensiveness crept into her tone. It had been the same the night he delivered her tree. Wiser than an average dumbass incapable of learning a lesson, he knew where the tone came from. And where it could lead.
“Because when I lie down with you again it isn’t going to be to hold you while you’re down.”
“I’m not down.”
“Neither is it going to be at the end of a day that’s ripped you apart inside.”
“Then you’ll never lie with me, because every day without my family rips at me.”
He shook his head. “You’ll experience a truly great day again.”
“There are no good days. Certainly great ones don’t exist.”
He would prove her wrong, but not with a verbal sparring match. Keeping them both on their feet would be much more fun. More rewarding.
With another brief kiss, he took the hand she had on his shirt and pressed a stone into it. She pulled back with a moaning sigh and looked quizzically at the amethyst cluster.
“I have one of these.”
“Did you know they’re good for keeping the air and life force of your home clean and positive?”
“I did.”
“Then you know that feeds directly into its calming properties.” He kissed her again. “Put it under your pillow and have pleasant dreams.”
“You’re an unexpected man.”
“Expected is dull.” After a final kiss, one he lingered a little longer over, Ryland left. The last few days without Jennalyn had been lackluster to the point of lifelessness. He was finished living with lackluster.
Jennalyn sat on a bench beside the ice and watched the skaters as they sailed along the shiny surface. Grace and elegance flowed behind them, laughed on the breeze like their flapping scarves of vibrant Christmas colors. Red and green, silver and blue, yellow and gold. They were all present from the poinsettias in their gift-wrapped pots circling the ice to the ice sculpture center rink that depicted a snow globe.
Straight No Chaser’s “Twelve Days of Christmas” jingled through the mall’s speaker system enhancing the feel of the season.
“Ready?” Ryland asked from beside her. He wasn’t talking to her though.
“Yes.” Dawn, a nine-year-old who’d recently received a clean bill of health thanks to a new pancreas, did a little bounce on the thin blades of her skates. “I’ve missed the ice.”
“Then let’s go.” Ryland tugged on the thin scarf she’d wrapped around her throat. “You promised to teach me a jump.”
Jennalyn waved her cell and winked at Dawn. “I’m ready to dial 9-1-1 so don’t worry too much about him getting hurt.”
“He’ll be okay.”
“Yes, he will,” Ryland put in.
“Hopefully.” Jennalyn patted his arm just above his hand. “But face the facts. You may be as good once as you ever were, but only once.”
“I’ll show you how good I am.”
“I’m ready to be underwhelmed.”
Dawn laughed and headed toward the ice. Ryland abandoned the sparring match and followed her. For the next hour, Jennalyn took pictures of Dawn and Ryland. Dawn had skated competitively before getting sick, and it turned out that Ryland didn’t suck on the narrow strips of metal.
When Dawn gave him an instruction for a jump he obeyed. He landed on his ass more often than not, but he kept trying again. Laughing from the sidelines was fine, because she had never been on skates and they terrified her, but the longer she watched Ryland and Dawn the more she realized where the real fun was.
On the ice.
Lacing up her brave pants, Jennalyn went after a pair of skates and teetered her way across the rubber floor.
“I live in heels. How is it so hard to walk in these?” she muttered as she stared at the ice. One step and she’d be on the slippery surface.
If she were lucky she would glide like most of the people. She doubted that she would be so lucky. No. She would feel the smack of her backside before it was all over. Probably before it fully began.
Courage is looking fear in the face and laughing or screaming as you do it anyway.
The advice had come from their dad any time she’d been hesitant to try something new. Though her mom always wanted her to work for their business her dad gave her the courage to break tradition. Without him she wouldn’t have gone to school for business and marketing. She would have always wondered if she missed out on some great life experience.
Glide. Embrace the moment.
Her dad’s voice was a quiet rumble that rose higher and turned louder into laughter on the ice beyond. His daring humor channeled through the people on the ice. It pulled at her. She lifted a foot and put it back down.
Large and open-palmed, a hand broke her line of vision. “I won’t let you fall.”
Ryland.
Glancing up into his earnest eyes, she placed her hand in his. The first step wasn’t too bad. She just kept more weight on the foot that was planted on the rubber floor. The second step was the worst. In those few seconds when one foot sat on slick ground and the other moved through the air, doubt and fear leapt back in.
Th
e song on the sound system changed from “Jingle Bells” to “Baby, It’s Cold Outside”. Ryland held her hands, skating backward as they moved around the outer edge of the ice. After a lap of being pulled in a gentle glide, she risked lifting one foot and then the other. After another lap, Jennalyn found her rhythm. Her shoulders bounced in time with the music. They picked up speed. Ryland never let go of both hands.
“This isn’t so bad.”
“You’re doing great.”
“Miss Jennalyn.” Dawn caught up to them and turned to skate backward in front of them. “You’re a natural.”
“Says the girl who’s been skating since she could walk.” She raised Ryland’s hand holding hers. “It’s almost easy with a lifeline.”
“She’s right. You’re good enough, strong enough, to do it on your own.” Ryland squeezed her hand. “You don’t need me.”
But I want you. The self-admission stung with the pain of an internal thaw somewhere around her heart. She didn’t need him. She proved that to herself every day that she didn’t see him. She was beginning to wonder how much easier things would be with him. How much more enjoyable.
“It’s not always about need.” She smiled at Dawn and then Ryland. “You’re right though. I should try to do this on my own.”
Slowing their speed so they barely covered any distance, Jennalyn took a deep breath. She uncurled her fingers gripping Ryland’s. He uncurled his. His palm still pressed against hers, offering support until she chose to let go.
When she did, Ryland and Dawn cheered her on with equal enthusiasm. They kept pace on either side of her as she sped up. Faster and faster until the air whipped at her hair and across her face. Her feet moved in a smooth glissade. A laugh, nothing more than a bubble of pleasure in her belly, swelled and rolled through her, pulling joy from the darkest corners of her soul until it erupted.
Dawn and Ryland laughed with her, and for the briefest moment when she looked at Dawn, she saw Sabrina with her glittering eyes, cherubic smile and infectious joy.
Instead of feeling sad, Jennalyn breathed in the moment and allowed herself to glide.
Chapter Eleven
The porch light shone its welcome when Ryland pulled into Jennalyn’s drive. It was a sight he was growing to appreciate more and more. A sight he dreamed of on the days he didn’t see her. Darkness dragged down those days, showed him the depth of naïveté he’d survived on.
He’d fallen in love before. Or so he’d thought. It became clear he’d been blinded by the idea of love. Looking from the porch to the woman in the seat beside him, temptation reared, paved the air. It was like the times he’d kissed her. And different.
She was the same caring woman with a generous spirit. Yet something had changed in her. The last two times they’d been together she’d opened up to him in ways that went beyond talking.
Instead, the insights she’d granted ran deeper. They offered glimpses into the pain she held hidden inside. Pain that centered around her parents almost as much as Sabrina. Sabrina’s death still carried the most weight, if he read things right. Losing parents was a tragic loss, but it was a loss adults expected. Losing a younger sibling who was viewed as a child was much tougher. Especially considering that Sabrina had seemed okay after the accident.
Until discovering that she’d suffered an iceberg head injury. Damage that couldn’t be detected had hidden beneath the surface.
Love had given Jennalyn the strength to leave her job, risk her engagement and uproot her life for the sake of Sabrina and taking over the family business. The business was all she had left.
He rested his hand on her forearm, moved his fingers side to side. Satin skin with a tickling brush of fine hairs slipped against his palm and whispered suggestions along his mind.
“You’re amazing.”
“You’ve said that before.” Her head lolled against the seat. Rather than look at him she watched his fingers move across her arm.
“I’m curious to see if there’s a limit to how much you have to give.”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “So you claim. But when you open yourself to others, you’re still giving.”
“What are you talking about?”
He slid his hand beneath hers so only their palms brushed. He didn’t link their fingers or try to get closer. He only rested his palm beneath hers to feel her energy.
“Today, before you introduced Dawn to her idol, you allowed me to keep you from falling. You listened to Dawn’s encouragement.” Not that meeting Apolo Anton Ohno had been a hardship for Ryland. He loved watching the man skate.
“So? Introducing Dawn to Apolo was part of her miracle. As for letting you help me, that’s taking, not giving.”
“You gave us your trust.” He leaned across the small distance that divided them and kissed her on the temple. Her hair smelled of vanilla and cinnamon as it brushed his nose. It reminded him of their food fight and the easy comfort of home during the holidays.
“I—”
“Opened yourself up to allow us into a sliver of your heart.”
“Oh please.” She might not have rolled her eyes, but the gesture was clear in her voice. “You must’ve hit your head on one of those falls.”
“My head is fine.” He pulled away long enough to get out and round the car to her side. She’d slid her coat back on by the time he opened the door. He helped her out before he continued with his point. “So is the rest of me.”
“Then where’s the medical-minded Ryland who analyzes the business side of healing?”
He placed his hands on the roof of the car, trapping her between him and the door. The desire to devour her ate at him, decimated his control. He lowered his head to her neck and nibbled at the patch of skin revealed by her scarf. “He doesn’t exist around you.”
“He didn’t tell me he had a twin.”
“I feel like I do.” Leaning in, yet keeping a few inches between their bodies, he brushed the edge of her mouth with his lips. Energy rumbled to life inside him.
His blood sped. His pulse points thrummed harder.
“You make me want to play.”
“I’m not playful.”
“You have the capacity to be.”
“How can you know that?”
“You soaked me during my magic show. You started a food fight. You went skating.” He punctuated each statement with a touch or kiss. Each touch, kiss, had logic and desire colliding in his heart.
Logically, he didn’t think she was ready for a relationship beyond what they had. Desire he couldn’t avoid encouraged him to ignore logic.
She was a beautiful mystery that few men would understand. He did though.
“You have an infectious laugh.” He tugged her scarf down, exposing the smooth skin of her throat. Captivated, he placed his mouth over the newly bared skin.
“You’re mesmerizing.”
He swept the tip of his tongue over her. She shivered. He shivered.
“You’re like a drug that mellows me while filling me with giddiness.” He angled his head, nuzzling at the bottom side of her jaw. “I suffer withdrawal when I leave you.”
“It’s been your choice each time you’ve left.” Her hands rested on his shoulders. Her fingertips brushed his hair. “Well, except the time with the tree.”
He shivered again.
“I won’t take advantage of you while you’re dealing with your grief.”
“Grief is a part of my day, just as the sound of raw agony is a part of Riley.” She dropped her head back, offered him a better advantage.
“You aren’t always going to have such a tough month to cope with though.”
“So you’re waiting until I’m no longer stressed?” She pushed against him, nudging him back while a sudden drive to fight nagged. “Or do you see me as fragile?”
“I wouldn’t say fragile.” Word choice meant everything. The wrong response would have her turning away. It would lend a very literal meaning to being left in the cold.
“Grief makes us fragile in the way it isolates us, but that’s more accurately a kind of loneliness.”
“I’m not lonely, Ryland. Alone, yes. Lonely, no.”
“That’s a fine line of distinction.” He took her hand, tucked it through his arm and then led her to the covered porch. “I want to be sure that if we move to a new level it’s for the right reasons.”
“And you think sex for the sake of sex or for the sake of sating a hunger is wrong.”
“I prefer a little emotion.”
On the porch, she turned and put her hand in his jacket pockets before stepping one pace closer. “I can promise emotion.”
“But?” It was there. Twinkling as bright as the lights on neighboring homes. She had a condition.
“But while I am ready to explore this…attraction, I am not ready for forever.”
“I’m not asking for forever.” Though more than just tonight would be nice.
“Then it’s agreed,” she said as she casually unlocked and opened her front door.
“What?” He’d either missed something or she’d just agreed to sex. Images rushed into his mind in a flurry.
“We’ll exchange emotions and see where it leads. Slowly.”
She could be using him to fill a hole her family had once filled. She could be out for some relief and then she’d brush him off. She could be looking to scratch an itch left by her ex-fiancé.
Turning back, she hooked her fingers beneath his belt and tugged him inside. He should argue, but his brain short-circuited like it had been interrupted by a defibrillator’s jolt. He only registered that she was offering what he’d wanted since first meeting her. Why resist?
Decided, he leaned down and claimed her mouth in a kiss. He kicked the door closed behind him. A man could be noble for only so long.