by E. Jamie
"No, I want to try something,” he said, and before she knew it, his lips caressed hers for the tiniest moment.
Sara went still, shocked, but warmth flooded her, and she felt goose bumps rise along her bare arms to just under the cap sleeves of the white peasant blouse she wore.
He pulled away and stared down at her, waiting.
"I ... What? Why?” she asked her own voice low.
"Don't ask. Just tell me. Did you feel anything? Honestly?” he asked looking as if he were holding his breath.
Sara's eyes widened when she looked at him. His eyes. Dear God, the hopefulness in them surprised her.
Every fiber inside of her screamed that it was much too soon. Yet could she really lie and say she felt nothing? It had been tiny, almost imperceptible compared to the explosion that had rocked her when Connor had first kissed her, but it was there all the same. She had felt something and pushed away the guilt that pricked at her. Stronger was the desire for Aaron to kiss her again so she could feel it more fully. God how wonderful it would be to feel something besides pain. “Do it again."
Aaron blinked, but he wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her to him. His mouth claimed hers, with soft movements, tentative and tender. Sara tilted her head back when his hands wove through her hair. His fingers brushed the waist of her black Capri pants, and she felt a moment's embarrassment that she had undone the buttons because they had gotten too snug. She pushed the thought aside and just let herself feel.
Oh, this is nice. She raised her hands to his face, feeling his tongue enter to play with hers. She accepted him and stroked her tongue alongside his. Lord, this feels better than nice. When he pulled back, he was breathing hard, and so was she.
"Well?” Aaron asked.
"I'm sorry. I forgot the question,” she said with a soft smile.
His eyes held hers. “Sara, come sit with me by the fireplace. We need to talk."
Aaron took Sara's hand and led her to sit down beside him in front of the fire. “I can make up some cockamamie excuse and say I kissed you because you were standing under the mistletoe, but you know better."
Sara stared at their entwined hands. “I think so. I don't know what to say."
"Did you feel anything?"
"Yeah, I did, but I don't know what it means,” Sara said shivering in spite of the fire. “I liked how it felt when you kissed me, Aaron, but I don't love you. Not like that."
"I know, but maybe, do you think you could fall in love with me?"
Sara smiled at him. “Easily, if it wasn't for..."
"Connor,” Aaron said.
The name hung between them, thick as a brick wall. “It wouldn't be fair of me to start something with you when he's still in my heart. He always will be."
"I know. Just think about it. You, me, and Nathan ... We could be a family. I won't ask for your heart, but I want you to stay here with me. I want to help you raise him.. Will you let me?"
Sara stared at him stunned. “Aaron, what are you asking me?"
He took a deep breath. “Did you know I can't father children?"
Her jaw dropped open, and her heart broke for him. If ever a man deserved to be a father, it was Aaron. He was so wonderful with Nathan, and the toddler adored him, already referring to Aaron as ‘daddy'. The first time it had happened, Sara had felt the color drain from her face and saw Aaron's face go white as well, but they hadn't commented on it. “God, no, I didn't."
"It's because of an illness when I was five. To be blunt, I'm shooting blanks."
"Aaron, oh, I'm so sorry."
He shrugged. “Marry me, Sara. Let me help you raise your child. I'll be a good father to him. I promise. It can be a marriage in name only if you want."
Sara suddenly retraced her dream in her head. The hand reaching to her through the water had not been Connor's like she had thought. No. Now she knew it had been Aaron's. Sara began to cry, great racking sobs.
Aaron looked stunned for a moment, but then wrapped his arms around her. “Of all the responses I expected to a marriage proposal, sobbing was not one of them,” he joked with a grimace.
She pulled back when her cries subsided. “God, I don't know what happened there. It's all kind of overwhelming I guess,” she said with a weak smile. She looked at him then took a deep breath. “Aaron, if you and I would get married, it wouldn't be fair to you for it not to be a real marriage. Marriage vows mean more than that to me, and I know they do to you too. Can I go that far with you? I don't want to marry you if I can't be a wife to you in every way. I know you would make an amazing father, and you would be a spectacular husband, but I don't love you."
"Look at it this way. I'm a better catch than Sodomy."
Sara burst out laughing, then stopped, letting his words sink in. For the sake of her child having a family she had been ready to share her body with a man she abhorred. She liked Aaron, cared about him, and the attraction was there. But good God, she hadn't expected this! It was too soon. Much too soon. Three years. Was that enough time? It didn't feel like enough. “I need...” She swallowed hard, trying to settle the whirlwind of emotions inside of her. “I don't know."
"Time?"
She nodded. “I've always liked you, and I do care about you, so much. I feel ... I mean, God knows you're a handsome man. I just don't know if what I'm feeling now is mere attraction or if it's the start of something we could build a life with."
He nodded. She could see the disappointment in his eyes. “So we won't write up the wedding invitations just yet. I can wait. If your answer is yes or no, I have no problem giving you the time to make it. Just know that I love you, and I will do my damndest to make you and that boy happy."
Sarah leaned forward and cupped his face, brushing a kiss across his lips. “Thank you. I promise I won't make you wait long."
"However much time you need. Don't worry about it. I'm not going anywhere."
* * * *
She dreamed of Connor again, of the first night they had met at her eighteenth birthday-surprise engagement party. She remembered hiding out in the kitchen, ranting about the insanity that her parents, the people who were supposed to love her and put her happiness first, were intending to foist upon her. The staff was sympathetic but could offer no real help, not that Sarah expected them to.
Connor came into the kitchen carrying an empty tray, and Sara felt the funny flutter in her belly that had occurred when she first saw him amid the guests. He'd been easy to spot in his waiter uniform and blond hair. His eyes had met hers, and Sarah felt as if her heart had stopped beating for one moment, and she had to take a quick gasp of breath to get it moving again.
"Looks like the princess took off,” Connor said with a snort, before giving a guilty start when he saw Sara was there.
"I didn't take off,” she said. She lifted her gaze to the ceiling. “Would that I could."
"Sorry. It's none of my business,” he said, his blue eyes warm. “I won't tell anyone you're in here."
"I'd appreciate that, thank you,” she said with a little shiver. His voice was smooth with just the faintest hint of a rasp underneath. She told herself she was just excited to meet another fellow American here in London. She ached to return to Florida, but her father was expanding his business overseas, and that meant she was stuck here for a while. If anything, the social set of inane rules and restrictions were even stricter here than among the Palm Beach jet set.
Connor's eyes met hers and locked, and Sara's mouth went dry. Christ, but he is without a doubt the sexiest man I've ever seen. Steven isn't fit to shine his shoes.
He was looking at her expectantly now, and she realized with a jolt of embarrassment that he'd spoken.
"I'm sorry, what?"
He gave her a knowing grin that made her cheeks flare with heat. “I asked if you were planning to stay back here for the rest of the party."
"Why not? Lord knows my mother wouldn't lower herself to coming back here where the servants are. I don't think she's ever set fo
ot in this kitchen. She just summons the servants to her,” Sara explained, pursing her lips. “I can help make the pate or something."
Connor gave a chuckle, and his smile made Sara's knees buckle a little. She put her hands on the white marble island behind her.
"Make the pate, huh?” he remarked with obvious skepticism. “Sure."
"Make the pate, spit in the pate..."
The cook piped up from her position at the stove, “Don't even think about it!"
"Hey, stop your flirting, and get back to work,” the head caterer, a short, balding man scolded, handing Connor a tray filled with small circles of toasted mini baguette slices topped with caviar.
She stayed in the kitchen for another two hours before the housekeeper, Eva, sent by her mother, found her.
"Can't you just tell her you didn't find me?"
Eva sighed. “Unless you're planning to live the rest of your days in this kitchen, you're going to have to face them sooner or later."
"I was thinking later?” Sara pleaded biting into a carrot.
Eva cocked an eyebrow expectantly.
Sara groaned and followed her back out into the ballroom. Her mother glared at her and stormed toward her, followed by Roger. Sara felt a knot of fear well up in her throat, but she caught sight of Connor on the other side of the room, watching her while he held up a tray to one of the guests. He winked at her, and it was the encouragement she needed. Sara stiffened her spine, and she lifted her hand to stop the barrage she knew would be coming from her parents. “Before you say anything, I just want to say that what the two of you did tonight was unconscionable."
"What we did?” Victoria asked, wide-eyed. “Secured your future with one of the wealthiest young men in the country? Sara, do you not realize how many young women would kill to be in your shoes?"
"Then let one of them marry him,” Sara tossed back.
"Your ingratitude is beyond comprehension. How you could humiliate—” Roger barked, grabbing her arm.
Sara jerked out of her father's grasp. “I will not marry a man I do not love, and I don't love Steven Sondheim. That is the end of this discussion.” She was trembling with nervousness at the enormity of refusing her parents, but she saw Connor lift a glass of champagne to her.
Victoria turned and caught the gesture and glared back at Sara.
She forced herself to lift her chin and walk away, glad for one of her parents’ friends who came along and claimed their attention.
Toward the end of the party, she managed to slip away to the gardens to her favorite place, the gazebo. She liked to pretend it was her own separate house. A home of her own where she could be free and not stifled under the weight of her parents’ expectations. She sat on the white bench, stared up at the sky, and counted the stars, an activity which never failed to calm her. But tonight, her thoughts were much too distracted, centered on one person. Connor. She'd tried to sound nonchalant when she had asked the head caterer the young man's name, but by the knowing gleam in the older man's brown eyes, Sara felt she hadn't been all that successful.
"So, is the princess plotting her escape from the big, bad castle?"
She recognized Connor's voice and turned to watch him climb up the few steps into the gazebo. She smiled at him and looked to both his left and right, pretending to search for something. “And if I was? Some knight you are, without your big white horse."
"Ah, sorry. Guess I didn't get the memo,” he joked taking a seat beside her. “We're just packing up. I wanted to come say good-bye."
"Oh,” she said, a heavy ball of disappointment settling in her stomach.
"So. Are you gonna end up marrying that guy ... what's his name again? Sodomy?” Connor joked.
Sara blinked in surprise over the vulgar nickname and burst out laughing, which by the pleasure she saw in Connor's eyes, had been his intention. “That is funny."
"What, the nickname or the question?” Connor asked.
"Both,” Sara said. “And no. No way in hell am I gonna marry that ... stuffed shirt."
"Good,” Connor said. “'Cause he seems like he'd be dull as a doorknob."
"Oh, he is,” Sara confirmed.
"Definitely not the guy for you."
"Ah, I see,” Sara said, blushing once she began to understand where this line of conversation was going. “And who would you suggest?"
"Oh well, in my completely objective opinion, right?” he asked, his blue eyes twinkling.
"Of course,” Sara said, biting her lip to stifle a smile.
"You'd need someone taller I think. Blond hair maybe. Blue eyes. Maybe not as much money, but at least he shouldn't have a stick up his ass."
"Yeah, that does seem like it would be uncomfortable,” Sara joked, trying not to laugh.
"And a guy who when he kissed you, made your toes curl,” he said, looking at her.
Sara closed her eyes when a warmth that belied the chilly night came over her at the touch of Connor's fingers to her cheek. “Oh,” she said softly. “Well, I suppose I'd have to know that for sure beforehand."
"Good point,” he whispered, his breath hot against her face when he leaned closer, giving her time to back away if she wanted to.
She didn't want to. Her eyes fluttered closed when his lips met hers, and a surge of passion moved through her blood.
His mouth teased her, and it was only when her hands came up around his neck that Connor deepened the kiss.
Some deep part inside of Sara cried out, Oh yes! This one.
* * * *
Sara woke up gradually, not wanting to leave the comfort of her memories, not wanting to leave Connor back to the recesses of her mind, the only place he could now exist. He'd been the one. There was no doubt in her soul about that. She stared up at white ceiling and studied the swirling patterns for a little while. Could there be more than just one 'the one'?
Her fingers trembled, clutching the ivory comforter. She resisted the urge to bring it up over her head and try to avoid the issue altogether. Sara knew the questions would just follow her. Was there room in her heart for another one? Aaron? She couldn't imagine ever feeling for him what she felt for Connor.
She kicked the blankets off her with a moan of frustration. She didn't want to think about this now. She wanted to concentrate on her son, her career, and nothing else. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat there for a few seconds, looking down at the beige carpet. Sara wanted nothing more than to lock herself and Nathan in a protective bubble where she didn't have to think or feel or ... love. Loving meant loss. Sara didn't think she could handle another loss like Connor's. Yet she knew that going down that road meant nothing but loneliness for both her and her son. He deserved a family, a real one with parents who loved each other. When she imagined the rest of her life without Connor, Sara was hit with a wave of loneliness so strong that it brought tears to her eyes. So what did she do? Did she open herself up to the possibility of Aaron? Did she allow herself to take that risk again with someone who was at least a friend to her now? It was certainly a future on better footing than she had been with Steven, Sara remembered with a shudder.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and her gaze fell on the vase filled with lilies on the cherry wood dresser. Had the flowers been there before she'd fallen asleep? Sara stroked one of the curved, pristine white petals and felt a warmth in her chest. Aaron.
She turned at a knock on the door. Grabbing her grey velvet robe off the end of the bed, she wrapped it around herself before answering.
Aaron smiled brightly in the doorway. “Morning."
.She noticed he was wearing a black tank top and took a moment to appreciate his tight, muscled, bare arms. The flutter of attraction came again, and with it a beat of hope that maybe, just maybe she could imagine herself married to him. She admitted to herself that he was no great hardship to look at.
"If you're feeling up to it, I thought we might go out for breakfast this morning."
She hesitated. After his offer of
marriage, any eating out now had a different meaning in her brain. It could be considered a date, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to encourage him in that direction yet.
"Just breakfast at Charlie's. No big deal. I promise I won't get down on one knee even once,” he promised with a smile.
She gave a reluctant laugh. Sara turned away from him, and her gaze fell on the flowers. “Thank you for those. They're beautiful.” She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed as she turned back to face him. “I just ... I'm not sure if we should go on a date—"
He lifted his hand to stop her. “Who said anything about a date? I'm talking breakfast between friends. I thought you might want to risk one of Charlie's ridiculously delicious bacon and egg sandwiches."
Her mouth watered, and she bit her lip, tempted by the mental image.
"Come on, you know you wanna,” he said, nudging her and giving her a playful smile.
She grinned at him. “Give me a few minutes to get ready and call to ask if Jessica can watch Nathan for a little while."
He clapped his hands together in triumph. “Awesome."
* * * *
"Aaron? Son of gun! Where you been, boy?” the tall muscular man behind the counter asked, steel spatula in his hand. His voice carried over the loud atmosphere, and Sara looked around. She had no idea how she and Aaron would find a place to sit in this melee.
"Good to see you, Charlie. This is Sara."
"Connor's Sara?” the man asked, his grey eyes falling on her sympathetically. “So sorry about what happened. He was a good guy. Breakfast is on me."
"Thanks a lot,” Aaron said, placing a hand on Sara's back. “We'll have two of your bacon and egg sandwiches."
Sara gave the man a small smile of appreciation and scanned the crowd as Aaron guided her through the tables. “Where on earth are we gonna sit?"
"Window sound good?” he asked, and she followed his gaze to a couple that was slipping on their coats and up getting to leave.