by Helen Brenna
Jesse turned as hard as a rock. When she reached behind her back to unsnap her bra, he reached out. “No. Let me.” He ran his hand along her arm, intent on making the last nine years of her waiting worth every second.
Then he touched her, everywhere, ran his fingers lightly over her cheeks, down her neck, her chest, her belly, wanting to know every inch of her. Her skin was soft and her smell, that ever-present scent of flowers, filled his senses.
He pushed down one bra strap, then the other and freed two dusky pink-tipped breasts. For a moment, he simply gazed at her. Her mouth slightly parted, her eyes heavy-lidded. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Touch me,” she breathed.
“If you say so.” Smiling, he cupped her breasts in his hands, bent and took one nipple and then the other into his mouth, laving his tongue back and forth. Then he dipped the fingers of one hand beneath her thong and slid deeply between her thighs. Swollen and wet, she arched to meet him, tilted her head back and groaned.
He wanted nothing more in that moment that to bury himself deeply inside her, but he held back. For her.
She touched him and he jerked back and away. “No, Sarah. I’m already too close. You first.”
He kissed her as he laid her back on the bed, unsnapped her bra and dragged off her thong. He spread her thighs with his knee and moved down her body, biting, kissing and licking the whole way.
His heart raced and his hands trembled as he parted her sweet, swollen folds and stroked her tight center with his tongue. She cried out and bucked against him. The instant he slipped two fingers inside her, she came, pulsing violently against him, and he could wait no longer.
He slid back up her body and entered her in time to feel her grip him in the rhythms of her release. “Sarah.” He kissed her mouth as he rocked against her. “Sarah!” As he came it was as if his body released in one fell swoop every tense and tight moment of the past four years. He was finally a free man. Free of prison. Free of guilt. If only for a few moments.
THE WEAK RAYS OF SUNRISE filtered through Sarah’s bedroom windows as she lay on her side, facing Jesse. His head was on his own pillow, but his arm was wrapped around her side and his legs were entangled in hers. All night, they’d slept in variations of this same pose, always touching, always holding. It’d been the most magical night of her life. Jesse had brought her body to life in a way she’d never dreamed possible. He’d made love to her over and over until they’d both collapsed in sleep, exhausted.
Watching him speak in front of that MADD group had changed everything for her. Everything. The sincerity in Jesse’s eyes, the meaning in his voice, the moments his throat had closed with emotion had all worked at softening her heart more than she’d ever expected. Even Hank’s parents and siblings had seemed to soften toward Jesse last night. There hadn’t been a dry eye in the entire Bowman group.
Jesse had, indeed, paid a price for his mistake. One he’d carry with him for the rest of his life, but he deserved to move on as much as was possible. The Bowman family believed it. Sarah believed it. The only person who didn’t was Jesse himself.
This man lying in bed with her was nothing like Bobby Coleman, nothing like any of the bad boys she’d met in Miami. If any one of them had been in Jesse’s shoes that day Hank showed up on Mirabelle, they would’ve patted Hank on the back and thrown a party in the man’s honor. Then they would’ve turned around and done a line of coke.
Jesse may have thrown himself into work, instead, but at least it was a more productive escape, and he’d come around. He’d faced what he’d needed to do. Jesse was a good man who’d made one terrible mistake, and because he was a good man a piece of him would suffer for that mistake the rest of his life.
There was nothing wrong with her judgment in men. Not anymore. These many years raising Brian on her own had brought reason and clarity. She was attracted to Jesse for damned good reasons. He had all the wonderful bad-boy traits she loved, an easy smile and a zest for life. He knew how to have fun and sought joy—real joy—in life, but Jesse was responsible, dependable and sensitive. He had none of the bad-boy faults, save one. He still believed he was a rolling stone. He still planned on leaving Mirabelle.
She stared at his profile, at his dark lashes fanning out over his cheeks, and sucked in a sharp breath. Good Lord, what had she done? How could she have let this go so far? Now more than ever she knew she would never be happy without Jesse in her life. Well, she wasn’t going to let him leave without a fight. If making love with him was playing dirty, then so be it.
In a few hours Megan and Brandon would arrive on Mirabelle, kicking off the first wedding of her busy season, and Sarah wouldn’t be coming up for air for several days. But she and Jesse still had this morning, and Sarah planned on making the most of it.
Reaching out, she ran her hand along his muscular chest, down the center of his warm stomach and buried her fingers in the thick curly hair at his groin. His penis, flaccid in deep sleep, didn’t stay that way for long.
“Mmm,” he murmured, the sound coming from deep in his chest. He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “Sarah,” he groaned, his voice raspy with sleep. “What are you doing?”
He loved her. She could see it in his eyes as clear as day breaking outside her window, but even a whisper of her own love, let alone his, would be disaster.
Instead, she grinned. “Making up for lost time.”
JESSE CAME AWAKE with a peaceful, lazy smile on his face. Sarah—his sweet, sweet, Sarah—was tucked in front of him. Her smooth back against his chest. Her long black hair splayed out over the pillowcase and under his cheek. Her round bottom pressed against his groin and a nice, stiff morning erection ready and waiting to sink into her tight softness.
He moved against her…and stopped. His Sarah? Who the hell was he kidding? What had he done?
For nine years the woman had sworn off men, and what did he do? He’d slipped right in there and made her forget every promise she’d made to herself. All because he was a selfish son of a bitch. He’d wanted her. He’d needed her. He’d taken her. Hell, he’d even convinced himself that he loved her, but he was merely playing tricks on himself. On her. She deserved so much better than him.
One last time, he buried his face in her hair and breathed her in. Breathed in that fresh breath of life, of love. To which he had no right. Then carefully, quietly, he slid away from her. He sat up and swung his feet down to the floor.
The sheets rustled behind him and he stilled, keeping his fingers crossed that she hadn’t woken up, that he didn’t need to do this now.
“Don’t go,” she whispered, her hand resting softly on his waist.
“I gotta get to work.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yeah, I do.” He stood and pulled on his boxers. “Hey.”
He could hear her shifting toward him.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I need to get going.” He dragged on his jeans.
“Don’t, Jesse. Don’t do this. Don’t make last night—the most perfect night of my life—a mistake.”
He turned. She’d pulled the sheet up in front of her. Her face was a mass of emotion, but he made himself face her. Made himself face the beautiful sight of her disheveled hair, her kiss-swollen lips. The whisker burns—from him—on the tender skin on the upper swell of her breasts.
“But that’s what it was, Sarah. A mistake. A lapse in judgment. You may not be ready to accept that now, but in a couple days. In a week. It’ll hit you between the eyes like a hammer on a nail head. We don’t belong together. You deserve—and you know you want—something better than me.”
“No. I lov—
“Don’t!” He spun away from the painful sight of her. “Don’t say it.”
“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you. I love you. I love—”
“Well…I don’t love you.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, Sarah. It’s the truth. Last ni
ght was fun. Great, even. But I…don’t…love you.”
“Then go! Leave!” she threw at him. “It changes nothing.”
“Damn right it doesn’t,” he bit out. The hardest thing he’d ever done was look at the tears in her eyes, tears he’d caused, and hold himself back. He ached to pull her into his arms, to comfort her, to tell her he was sorry. He couldn’t. “I’m still leaving as soon as your house is finished.”
Then he made himself turn on her and walk out of her bedroom.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“SARAH!” Megan rushed off the pier. “I can’t believe it’s finally here.”
“It’s here all right.” Sarah put on the best and brightest smile she could muster, hugged Megan and then shook Brandon’s hand. After Jesse had left her that morning, she had no choice but to get up and face the day.
“So what do we do?” Megan asked, her eyes bright with expectation.
“You simply enjoy the experience,” Sarah said, motioning behind her toward the horse-drawn carriage. “Hop on board. The driver will take you to the Mirabelle Island Inn. I’ll take care of the rest.”
The next several days were going to pass in a blur, and for once Sarah found herself extremely thankful for Megan. She’d be too busy to think about Jesse and his insistence about leaving. But when this wedding was over, he was going to find out that she wasn’t giving him up without one hell of a fight.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
At the sound of his brother’s voice, Jesse turned off the jigsaw in Garrett’s workshop, flipped up his safety glasses and glanced behind him. Jesse had been so intent on following the pattern lines with the saw blade that he hadn’t heard Garrett come into the woodworking shop. “Making replacement gingerbread trim for Sarah’s front porch,” he said. He’d just finished the last of the four arches.
Garrett picked up one of the other arches that had already been sanded and painted, and carefully examined the detail. “Good work, bro. Maybe you could make furniture.”
Jesse laughed. “Before you get all excited, you should know I didn’t design that. Copied the pattern off the old, broken-up chunk still left on her porch.”
He set down the arch piece and picked up the triangular gable decoration.
“Now, that, I did design, but it’s based on the porch arches, so I can’t take all the credit.”
“No wonder you’ve been pretty scarce lately. These were a lot of work.”
“No kidding. Now I know why custom orders for this kind of trim cost so much. Sarah couldn’t afford to pay for premade pieces, so…”
“You made them for her.” Garrett glanced at him. “That was nice.”
“It’s the least I could do. That’s pretty cool, too.” He pointed to a rectangular piece. “An embellishment for her storm door.”
“Good detail. Bet she’s excited to see these.”
“She doesn’t know I made them, so don’t say anything.”
“You went to a lot of trouble.”
“Not a big deal.” Jesse brushed away some sawdust from the piece he was working on. “Kind of like a housewarming gift.”
Garrett shook his head and laughed softly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were one whupped puppy.”
Jesse glanced away.
“Is her house finished yet?”
“Yeah. This is the last thing I need to do. I’ll be getting this trim up in the next couple of days. While she’s busy with that wedding.”
“And then what?”
“Then I’m done on Mirabelle. Completely. There’s nothing left for me to do here.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Positive.”
“You could stay, you know. With the way Mirabelle’s business is booming, I’ve had to turn away at least a dozen jobs, both big and small, since I took on this furniture order. One look at what you’ve done at Sarah’s and people will be asking you left and right to man their projects. And…well, hell…Garrett Taylor Furniture Company sounds a little lonely. I’m thinking I like the sounds of Taylor Brothers’ Furniture a lot better.”
“Garrett—”
“Think about it.”
“There’s nothing to think about. I’m not right for Mirabelle.”
“The old Jesse wasn’t right for Mirabelle. This new one? I think he’s right where he belongs.”
MEGAN AND BRANDON’S groom’s dinner went off without a hitch. Sarah had even managed to get home early enough to spend time with Brian. After he fell asleep on the couch while they were watching a movie, Sarah snuck down to her shop to finish assembling the flowers for the wedding. It was well past one by the time she wrapped up and she was likely asleep before her head even hit her pillow.
She woke up Saturday morning, later than she’d hoped, to a sky filled with hazy cloud cover and the kind of cold and heavy drizzle that tended to make a person want to climb back into bed and stay there all day. Not that Sarah ever got to experience that luxury. She slid out of bed, glanced out the window and braced herself for the upcoming day. If the weather was any indication, this wedding was going to be a disaster.
She walked down the hall and found Brian in the kitchen putting away the clean dishes from the dishwasher. “Good morning.”
“Morning, Mom.”
“What’s this all about?”
“You said I should take more responsibility, right? Help out more.”
“I appreciate that.” She cocked her head at him.
“Jesse’s right. You need help. The more I help you, the less work you have to do.”
“You really like him, don’t you?”
“So do you.” He grinned.
“Yeah, I do.” She gave him a hug, but stopped short of ruffling his hair.
“You know, it’d be okay with me if you dated him.”
“Oh, it would, huh?” She glanced at her son, wishing like hell he was another ten years older and she could spill her guts to him. Someday. “Want some scrambled eggs?”
“I already mixed them up. They’re in the fridge.”
“You better be careful, mister. I could get used to this.”
They made the rest of breakfast, ate and cleaned up together. Then Sarah helped Brian with some homework and they both did a few chores. By the time they were finished boxing up a few more things to move up to the house, the rain had stopped.
They piled the boxes by the door and Sarah glanced into Brian’s things. “We won’t be staying at the house until later this week. You sure you won’t need any of that stuff for a few days?”
“I’m sure,” Brian said. “It’s just some old video games and books and stuff.”
“Did you want to come to the house with me and help unload things?”
“Alex Andersen’s birthday party is starting in a few minutes. Remember? We’re supposed to meet at Romeo’s for pizza for lunch and then we’re all going to Alex’s house afterward.”
To continue the party and a sleepover. No, she hadn’t remembered. The change in this wedding date had thrown her schedule out of whack. At least she’d thought to get Alex a present. “Let’s wrap his gift and then I’ll walk with you to Romeo’s.”
A few minutes later, they were out the door. She quickly took him to Alex’s pizza party, made sure the Andersens had her cell-phone number and that Brian would be with them until morning, and then hustled back to her shop. She grabbed the wedding flowers and a few last-minute things and headed down Island Drive to the Mirabelle Island Inn.
Brittany Rousseau was waiting for her at the front desk. “Hey, there,” she said. “You all set?”
“I still have to decorate the chapel and finish in the banquet room, but the wedding isn’t until four. I’ll be ready by then.”
Several hours later, she’d finished decorating both the chapel and banquet hall, had checked in with Megan and Brandon, separately, at least twice. The only snag—so far—had been the color of napkins on the dinner tables. Megan had wanted white, and it was a simple fix. Sar
ah was going through her checklist one last time before going to collect Megan to get this party started when someone frantically called her name.
“Sarah!” Megan’s mother came rushing into the cavernous reception hall. “Sarah!”
She turned. “What? What is it?”
“It’s Megan.” The woman’s face was a mass of worry wrinkles. “She won’t come out of the bride’s room.”
Sarah glanced at her watch. It was only three-fifteen. “Did she say what’s wrong?”
“No. She won’t talk to anyone. Not even—especially not—Brandon.”
Great. Just what Sarah needed. A chilly-footed bride.
“She might talk to you,” Megan’s mother said. “Through all of this, you’ve been the only person who’s been able to calm her down.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” She took off for Megan’s room and found the four bridesmaids hovering at the door, the father pacing in the hall. The mother-in-law, staring with barely disguised disgust at the group, was standing next to her very worried-looking son. Sarah tapped on the door. “Megan, it’s Sarah. Can I please come in?”
The door lock clicked, but didn’t open.
Sarah turned the knob, snuck inside and quickly set the lock again. She found Megan standing at the window looking out over Lake Superior, the sky blustery and overcast.
Slowly, Megan turned. The very picture of a wedding day gone awry, she was holding her gold calla-lily bouquet as if she was all set to walk down the aisle, but her eyes were swollen and bloodshot from crying, her face blotchy and streaked. She plopped into a chair, her full skirt billowing around her.
“Megan, what is it?” Sarah knelt in front of the young woman.
“Did you know I met Brandon when I was thirteen?” she whispered.
Sarah shook her head.
“He’s the only boy I’ve ever dated. The only boy I’ve ever wanted to date. We’ve been talking about this wedding for years.”
“If you’re worried about the napkins, don’t sweat it. They’ve already been changed out.” Sarah smiled. “If there’s one guarantee in life, it’s that something will go wrong at every wedding. It doesn’t mean the wedding’s not supposed to happen.”