The Giving Season (12 page)

Michael turned his head to look at her, and for a moment they were close enough to kiss. At least Jessy thought so, and the thought was so devastating that she felt as if her heart might explode with the sudden jolt of adrenaline. Michael’s eyes, fringed with those long, sooty lashes, held her gaze so effortlessly that Jessy realized he honestly had no idea how he affected her. Which was a very, very good thing.

“Thank you, Jessy,” he finally said, his words little more than a gruff whisper. He leaned closer until his shoulder nudged against hers. Jessy felt a shiver that danced from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. “That means a lot to me.”

Jessy managed a smile even as she felt the force of his charm torpedo the very last remnants of her defenses. Whatever she might have deluded herself into believing, she could not deny that in the space of a few days she had somehow managed to fall in love with Michael Forrester and his family. She’d finally found the only man she’d even consider worth the trouble and aggravation of falling in love with, only to learn that he came with kids and an ex who could teach supermodels a thing or two about beauty. Story of her life.

“You’re welcome,” she said, bumping his shoulder with hers as she smiled up to him. She understood her role here very clearly. Michael was still in love with Ann, so Jessy would have to settle for being the supportive, understanding, completely non-threatening friend. Nothing she could do would ever make him fall for her the way he’d fallen for Ann, and the thought was almost liberating, in a sad, pathetic sort of way. All the pressure was off now. She knew her place.

Michael’s gaze remained on Jessy’s just long enough to make her feel self-conscious. The way he studied her, his expression so serious and intense, made her feel more than a little awkward. She wasn’t wearing a speck of make-up, and the cold had chapped her lips and cheeks, and her hair probably looked like a fright wig after the snowball battle, and—oh, she didn’t want to think about the rest.

“What?” she asked with a small smile, unable to stand the scrutiny a moment longer.

“I’m just looking at your face. You have beautiful bone structure.” He smiled and spanned a hand over the plane of Jessy’s cheek, fitting the length of his thumb just beneath her cheekbone. She could feel her face growing hot beneath his palm, but she couldn’t look away from his eyes. 

“Yeah, right—I bet you say that to all the girls,” she said with forced lightness, hoping to spoil the suddenly overwhelming seriousness of the moment. She tried to smile wryly, but couldn’t quite get her face to cooperate. All she could do was stare at him with big eyes, throat dry and heart pounding.

If he heard the playful sarcasm of her voice, he chose to ignore it. Michael’s fingers traced along her temple, carefully brushing hair away from her face. For a split-second Jessy didn’t know quite how to react; she wanted to just close her eyes and lean into his hand, to let him do whatever he wanted. His touch was so unbelievably gentle, almost reverent. Between the softness of his hands and the warmth of his gaze, Jessy felt almost hypnotized.

“Jessy—” he whispered. 

And then he changed everything.

Without saying another word, Michael leaned forward and brushed his lips across Jessy’s.
The whisper of his breath against her skin, the warmth of his mouth on hers, sent a jolt of electricity through her. The kiss ended almost as soon as it had begun, but the effect was nearly devastating.

Michael rested his forehead against hers, and she was absurdly grateful for the chance to catch her breath, stunned into speechlessness. Of all the things that could have happened to her that day, being kissed by Michael—even such a brief, sweet little kiss—was the last thing she’d ever expected.

Michael raised his head, noticing the look on Jessy’s face. His smile faded a little. “Did I do something wrong?”

Jessy managed to shake her head, not quite trusting her voice yet. This was ridiculous; she was old enough to be able to handle a little kiss better than
this
. At least she should be. The only other experience she’d ever had with kissing had been Charlie Wilks’s half-hearted attempts.

“No,” she whispered. “No—it’s fine—”

“Then—would you mind if I did it again?”

Oh, Lord—he’s trying to kill me,
Jessy thought as she studied him. He wanted to kiss her again? Why? Where on Earth was all this coming from? Ten minutes ago she’d thought they were nothing but friends; now he’d introduced kissing into the equation and she didn’t know what to expect next.

Smiling faintly, completely unaware of Jessy’s emotional turmoil, Michael eased his arm around her and leaned in for another kiss. He captured her lower lip for a moment, then slid his mouth across hers, his tongue lightly flicking against the corner of her lips.

And suddenly it was all too overwhelming.

Jessy shot to her feet, scurrying over to the window.  

“I’m sensing some ambivalence here,” Michael said dryly, leaning on one arm as he watched Jessy stare out the window. She turned back to face him, knowing that her face was probably a lovely shade of magenta.  

“What’s wrong?” Michael asked quietly. “Did I cross some invisible boundary just now? Am I rushing you? Is it my breath?”

Caught off-guard, Jessy couldn’t hide her smile, relaxing slightly as she managed to look into his eyes once again. Distance helped her think more clearly—but the sight of him in his tight, well-worn jeans and flannel shirt, hunkered down on a bale of hay, nearly derailed her train of thought.

“It’s not you—” Jessy nervously twisted imaginary rings on her fingers, then caught what she was doing and abruptly stopped, folding her arms over her chest instead. “No, it’s
definitely
not you. You’re fine. More than fine.”

“Why, thank you, Miss. Monroe. You’re pretty fine your own self.” Michael grinned, arching an eyebrow. “And so the problem
is
—?”

Jessy gazed helplessly at him for a moment. This was going to be excruciatingly, humiliatingly,
unimaginably
hard for her to admit—mainly because until this moment, her lack of experience hadn’t been an issue. One time with Charlie—one miserable, unsatisfying, regrettable time—was not enough to make her an expert in the art of seduction.

“The problem,” she finally said, “is me.”

“
You?”

“Me.”

Michael smiled again, more from disbelief than amusement. “And how’s that?”

Jessy sighed in resignation and leaned against the wall, folding her arms more tightly across her chest. Somehow she managed to meet his gaze. In the past few days, she’d come to think of Michael as a friend, probably the closest friend she’d ever had. And ever since the night he’d held her when she’d been so sick, she’d grown to somehow trust him. Why he’d kissed her just now was a complete mystery—but she knew she had to be completely truthful with him in case he decided to do it again. Better to get all the embarrassment out of the way at once than to let it drag out indefinitely.

“I don’t—uh—I don’t really know how to say this—” Jessy covered her face with her hands, desperately trying to fight back the burning blush, to cool her heated skin.

Michael quietly stood, moving towards Jessy with an easy grace. She lowered her hands and watched him move, marveling at how comfortable he was with his own body. It made her feel even more unwieldy and cumbersome. He slowly smiled, his self-confidence falling just short of arrogance as he gazed at her. Jessy felt her mouth suddenly go dry, throat constricting tightly as she forgot everything for a moment.

“You were saying—?” he prompted.

Jessy cleared her throat and composed herself slightly. “I was saying that I, um, I don’t—” Jessy closed her eyes for a moment to escape his penetrating gaze. He sidled closer to her, backing her against the wall, his chest almost touching her folded arms. She instantly lowered her arms to her sides, then realized she’d made a mistake; now his chest nearly brushed her breasts with every breath he took.

Damn it—how could she think straight when he looked at her like that? His gaze slid from her eyes to her mouth, lingering there for a few excruciatingly long seconds before returning to her eyes again. She felt the strength sliding out of her, ebbing away with each moment he gazed at her.

“What are you doing?” she asked quietly.

“I’m listening to you.” He wore the faintest hint of a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “Please—go on.”

Angry with herself for being so silly and with Michael for being so damned sexy, Jessy momentarily forgot she was supposed to be embarrassed. The words poured out in a self-defensive torrent, her gaze slamming head-on into his.

“This is all new to me, okay?” Her eyes flashed as she spoke, daring him to smile or make fun of her. “I mean, I’ve kissed before but—it was never so—never like that—”

The barn suddenly became a vacuum of sound, the silence broken only by the occasional flutter of bird’s wings and the disgruntled huffs of the horses below. Jessy’s mouth closed with an audible snap, her eyes widening as she realized what she’d just admitted. She’d said too much. Way too much.

“Oh, God,” she groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I’m too old to be this goofy. Please tell me I didn’t say what I think I just said.”

The corner of Michael’s mouth curled up in a smile. “Honey, I’m not sure exactly
what
you just said.”

Jessy pried open one eye and glared at him. “I’m embarrassed, okay?”

“Okay—but
why
are you embarrassed?”

Jessy sighed again. Might have known Michael wouldn’t settle for letting her be merely humiliated. Oh, no—he had to know
why
.

“Because I’m thirty-two years old and I’ve only kissed one man in my entire life. Well—two, counting you.” Jessy kept her tone matter-of-fact; she couldn’t quite believe it, but somehow the sting of embarrassment was fast fading. She’d never really talked about this with anyone before, and Michael, if nothing else, was her friend. Besides, it seemed only fair to let him know what he was getting himself into. “It’s just embarrassing to be my age and still be so—inexperienced, that’s all.”

Michael smiled faintly. “What’s so bad about that?”

“Nothing—if it’s by choice.” Jessy cringed as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Great. Now he’d think she was a closet nympho.

Still smiling, Michael took her hand and silently led her back to the hay bale. He settled down on the floor, leaning back against the hay, and motioned for Jessy to join him. Moving with as much grace as she could muster, Jessy sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder, keeping her head down and her gaze fixed on her hands in her lap. She knew that he was watching her, but damned if she could bring herself to look at him now.

“So go on,” Michael said softly.

“There’s not a whole lot more to say.” Jessy shrugged and managed a feeble smile, still staring at her hands as she twisted those invisible rings again. “I’m just completely inexperienced with this kind of thing, and when you kissed me I just—”

Jessy’s voice trailed away as Michael picked up her hand and held it loosely in his, tracing the faint outline of veins on the back of her hand with his thumb. Despite the sudden quickening of her heart, Jessy managed to continue.

“When you kissed me—I kinda panicked. I don’t exactly know the territory here.” Jessy smiled wryly and glanced up to him again. “I can’t believe I’m even talking about this to you.”

Michael said nothing, lifting her hand instead to trail soft kisses along the length of each finger. He turned her hand over to press a kiss against the center of her palm, lips lingering for a heartstopping moment. Jessy could do nothing but stare at him.

“Wh—what are you doing?” she whispered.

“I’m kissing your hand,” Michael murmured against her skin. His mouth trailed along her inner wrist, the tip of his tongue lightly tracing the meandering line of her veins. 

Jessy closed her eyes, taken by surprise by how unbelievably wonderful the warmth of his mouth and tongue felt against her skin. She could almost imagine how it would feel to be kissed in other places—

Her eyes snapped open, the moment shattered by an abrupt slap of reality as she imagined what his reaction would be if he saw her body with all its flaws. She could already anticipate his distaste, his disappointment if they ever became intimate. The thought of possibly facing that kind of pain and humiliation sobered Jessy instantly.

Reluctantly she pulled her hand away from him, keeping her eyes downcast as she wrapped her arms around herself.

“What’d I do now?” Michael asked, a trace of impatience in his voice.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want to,” he said simply.

Jessy turned her gaze back to him again, not sure of how to respond to that. For years she’d struggled against allowing her sense of self to be shaped by the negative reactions of the people around her. She’d managed to develop a modicum of self-esteem through her schoolwork and her few friendships with others, but part of her had always felt that she shouldn’t ever expect anyone to fall in love with her. After all, it was a big world and there would always be someone better out there.

She’d struggled against that mindset for years, logic giving way to emotion every time. She’d fought dearly for the self-confidence she possessed, trying desperately to make herself believe that she
was
a good person, that she really was deserving of love. Yes, there would always be someone prettier, smarter, thinner, better at math, whatever—but that’s life. Unfair as hell in some ways, but better than nothing. She’d accepted that, rising above her insecurities and fears to become a person who had finally learned to like herself, flaws and all.

Now, however, she was beginning to doubt all that. She’d managed to put herself through college and graduate with honors. She’d managed to find a rewarding career that she loved. She’d managed to take care of her elderly aunt and make her last years as comfortable and peaceful as she could. She’d managed to do all those things alone, without a thought to her weight or her lack of a relationship. In a quiet, nontraditional way, she’d been a success in life.