The Memory of You

by Laurie Kellogg

  Sliding lower in her seat, she arched her spine and let her eyes drift closed. She dropped her head back to give him better access to her neck. After a moment of indulging in the pleasure of his touch, she moaned softly and lifted her heavy eyelids to find him watching her instead of the screen.

  A look of wonder washed over his face, and he breathed out an awe-filled whisper, “You’re so incredibly beautiful.”

  They stared at each other for several moments while he continued to caress her throat and the intense longing in his eyes turned to indecision.

  His mouth parted a fraction, and as he dipped his head, his breathing became as irregular as hers. His hot breath brushed her cheek, making her heart lurch. A millisecond before their lips made contact, music swelled from the theater’s speakers and a group of nuns began singing about Maria.

  Matt stiffened, and his stroking fingers stilled. Dropping his hand to clasp hers, he jerked his face away to stare at the movie.

  She bit her lip and studied the muscles pulsing in his jaw. Had she done something to turn him off? Or had watching a bunch of nuns made him feel guilty?

  Glancing over at her, he smiled and squeezed her hand while he continued to watch the film. For the next two hours, he repeatedly shifted in his seat, wincing every now and then.

  When the credits finally rolled, Abby sighed. “That was wonderful. Thank you so much for bringing me.”

  “Are you by any chance hungry?”

  “After all that popcorn?” She laughed. “We didn’t even eat any of the candy. My other dates don’t treat me this well.”

  “Then your other dates are idiots.” He gazed deep into her eyes. “I don’t want to take you home, yet. Let’s stop by the diner.”

  He was very good at making a girl feel special—which shouldn’t surprise her. The evening before, Peter had teased Matt about collecting more girlfriends in college than he had credits. And then her brother had added that his buddy was earning a double major in electrical and mechanical engineering and minor in biology.

  The roundabout route Matt took to the diner told her he was as reluctant to lose the physical contact the motorcycle gave them as she was.

  After ordering a couple of cheeseburger platters, he gazed at Abby across the table and asked softly, “Can I see you again tomorrow? I can’t afford much more than a long walk and counting stars, but I want to be with you.”

  Holding their two spoons back-to-back between his fingers, he clacked them together, nervously tapping them on his knee. “So, what do you say?”

  “Sure.” She pointed to the spoons. “That’s cool.”

  He looked down at the utensils and frowned. “Haven’t you ever seen anyone play the spoons before?”

  “No. It’s really neat. It sounds like horses galloping.”

  While they ate, he listened to her chatter about her sewing class in school. Any other guy would have tried to change the subject or simply let her ramble on. But when he recommended attending a fashion school after she graduated, she knew he’d been paying attention.

  “You don’t think I’m weird to love sewing?” she asked on their way out of the diner.

  “No. I’m surprised your mom hasn’t suggested design school.” He shook a cigarette out of the pack from his pocket and lit it. As he took a long drag, a hazy wreath of smoke swirled around him.

  “She probably doesn’t think I’m capable. Since my dad died it’s been hard for her to find anything positive in anyone.”

  “You don’t seem to have that problem, though, do you? I bet you have trouble seeing people’s faults.” He stopped next to his Harley and strapped her helmet on her. “It’s like you’re too good to be real.”

  “I am not.”

  “You’re nothing like any of the girls I knew my senior year of high school. All most of them thought about was their hair, make-up, and shopping for trampy clothes. Their favorite pastime was gossiping behind each other’s backs.”

  “Thanks. In other words, I’m as big a dork as everyone says I am.”

  “Nah. You’re just nicer and more mature than they are.”

  Fifteen minutes after they left the diner, Matt cut the motorcycle’s engine at her house. He lifted her off the bike, and her heart fluttered. His snail’s pace on the way to the door made every muscle in her tense with anticipation. Why was he dragging his heels? He had way too much experience to be as nervous as she was.

  “Would you like to come in for a while?”

  He stared down at her and gently touched her face. “I don’t want this night to end, Abby, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  Ignoring his reluctance, she pulled him inside. “Shhh....my mom’s already in bed. Have a seat. I’ll get you a Coke.”

  Matt sank onto the sofa and grabbed her hand. “Don’t bother.” When she settled next to him, he brushed the hair back from her face and whispered, “I’d better go.”

  Before the movie, she’d worried she’d be spending the evening fending off his Roman hands and Russian fingers, and now he acted as if she left him cold. But if she did, why had he asked her out for the next night?

  As he made a move to get up, she stopped him. “Matt?”

  “Yeah.” He sucked in a breath, and a wary gleam lit his eyes.

  “Last night, you said, uhhh....Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, Sweetheart. You did everything just right. Too right, in fact.”

  “Then why don’t you kiss me?”

  “When I asked you out, I had every intention of getting to second base with you tonight. But when I saw the look on your face in the theater, I realized you’re even more innocent than I first thought. I can’t understand how someone as hot as you could still be so clueless about guys.”

  “I’m not. Just because I haven’t gone all the way doesn’t mean I don’t know the score.”

  “Right. That’s why you came apart at the seams from a little innocent touching.”

  “I didn’t come ap—”

  “Yes,”—he laid two of his fingers firmly over her lips, silencing her—“you did. If we’d been someplace alone, I would’ve been sliding into home plate in no time.”

  Hot tears welled in her eyes. “You think I’m easy?”

  “No. I think you’re in way over your head. You just haven’t learned how to handle your feelings, yet.” He squeezed her to his chest. “What’s worse is I want you even more, knowing how innocent you are. I’ve never dated anyone so much younger. But you’re so damn sweet, I couldn’t resist. Seeing you get turned on that fast nearly drove me over the edge. And then I remembered you’re only seventeen. Not to mention you’re my best friend’s kid sister.”

  “You’re as bad as Peter.” She glared at him. “I’m going to be eighteen in three months.”

  “I know. You’re so grown up you haven’t the faintest idea how hot the fire is you’re playing with.”

  “Just because I’m still a virgin doesn’t mean—”

  “I bet you’ve never even really been kissed.”

  “Of course, I have.”

  “Yeah?” He cupped her face between his hands and whispered, “Prove it.” Dipping his head, he brushed his lips over hers several times before his mouth gently settled on hers. His tongue flicked out and slid along the line of her lips, teasing them with little licks and nibbles, making her tremble. A tiny whimper slipped out of her, and she melted into his arms.

  He wound his fingers in her hair, whispering against her mouth, “Open up, love, and let me really show you.” His warm tongue gently coaxed her lips to part and swept between them, encouraging her tongue to join his in a slow, sensual mating. It felt so wonderful she could hardly breathe.

  She moaned while his lips moved down her throat, blazing an exquisite trail, sucking and nipping, sending shivers down her spine.

  He nibbled his way back up to her ear and murmured, “Now you can say you’ve been kissed, Sweetheart.” Holding her tighter, he groaned into her neck. “I shouldn’t h
ave done that. You taste so good I can’t get enough of you.”

  For a second time, his mouth merged with hers while his fingers twisted in her hair. He held her lips prisoner, groaning into her mouth in his urgent possession.

  He was right. She didn’t know what to do with the feelings he stirred in her.

  A strange ribbon of heat unfurled in her belly and made her shiver all over. She clung to him while he lowered her back on the sofa and moved over her, gazing down into her eyes. Her heart thumped as loudly as Poe’s Tell-Tale Heart.

  “Abby, we should stop.” He pressed his hips to hers, his hands roaming over her breasts, making her shiver. “Can’t you feel what you’re doing to me?”

  The hard ridge under his fly pressed against her thigh and made her whole body stiffened. She stared up at the desire burning in his gaze and rasped, “My stomach feels funny.”

  “Good funny, or bad funny?” he asked, tracing the contour of her lip with his fingertip.

  “Very good.”

  Wincing, he lowered his mouth to hers again and maneuvered his hips between her legs while his hands slid eagerly over her body. He murmured hoarsely, “I want you so much.”

  As the unfamiliar heat in her belly spiraled lower, her breaths came in little pants. She knew she should stop him, but it felt so incredible when he touched her.

  He released a low growl in her ear, pushing her blouse up. He deftly unhooked her bra, leaving little doubt in her mind as to how frequently he removed girls’ clothing.

  Before she could object, he cupped her breast and lightly pinched her nipple into a hard little nub. Her protest died in her throat. He sucked her other stiff peak. A warm, delicious tingle rushed through her.

  She gasped at the lovely ache between her legs. She couldn’t force the words out that she needed to tell him to stop. It felt so good. Maybe she’d let him do it just a little more.

  Writhing beneath him, she clutched at his back and explored the well-defined ridges in it, vibrantly aware of his tongue lapping at her nipple and the hard bulge grinding into the moist heat between her thighs. “Oh, Matt, I think maybe—”

  Suddenly, his weight was jerked off her. “You son of a bitch!” Peter slammed Matt against the wall and pulled back his fist.

  She yanked down her blouse and hung on her brother’s arm, restraining him. “Stop it!”

  Pete threw Matt to the floor. “Get the hell out of here before I beat the crap out of you.”

  Matt crawled to his feet and raised his hands in surrender. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to go so far.”

  “If I catch you sniffing around Abby again, I promise I’ll kill you without batting an eye.”

  “Then go ahead and beat the shit out of me, cause I’m not gonna stop seeing her.”

  Peter shoved Matt’s shoulder. “She’s a baby, damn it. What can you possibly see in a girl her age—other than the chance to score?”

  “You’re her brother.” Matt’s voice grated, his chest heaving. “You should realize how special she is. I like Abby. A lot. I did my damnedest to keep my distance, but then—”

  “He’s telling you the truth.” She stepped between them. “I wanted Matt to touch me, and this is none of your business, you big jerk.”

  Her brother’s eyes narrowed. He ignored her protest and pushed her aside, advancing on Matt again. “I don’t care if she gives you an engraved invitation into her bed. She’d better stay as innocent as she is right this moment. Remember, Foster, I know what a horn-dog you are.”

  “It’s not like that with Abby. She’s different from other girls. I swear.”

  Peter poked him in the chest. “And I swear, if you mess with my sister, you’re gonna end up singing soprano.”

  Chapter 5

  Abby bolted upright in bed on Monday morning and stared at the alarm clock. Damn it. She’d overslept.

  The day before, she’d come home from church with an upset stomach, so Lucy had offered to take care of Tommy until his bedtime.

  Mac had made his own peanut butter sandwiches for lunch and had been stuck with two frozen dinners she’d heated for his supper. And that was after having hot dogs and boxed mac and cheese on Saturday night.

  She flipped back the covers, feeling terrible about the unimaginative meals she’d been serving. She wasn’t really keeping up her end of their bargain.

  As much as his meticulous work impressed her, his patience with the boys completely astounded her. He never seemed to tire of the endless questions they fired at him from the base of his ladder.

  Unfortunately, that morning’s breakfast wouldn’t be any better. She’d promised to help out at the church’s food bank, and Mac would be showing up any minute. He deserved something better than a cold breakfast of cornflakes.

  After tugging on her robe and sliding her feet into her slippers, she hurried out to the garage for one of the cinnamon/walnut coffeecakes she’d baked and frozen a few weeks before. No man would turn his nose up at homemade cake.

  As she closed the large freezer, something moved under a tarp in the back of the garage, and she screamed. She dropped the cake and grabbed a hoe to scare off whatever had gotten in during the night, fervently praying it wasn’t a giant rat.

  Mac sprang from under the canvas, the hunted look in his eyes reminding her of the wild creature she’d expected to encounter. She gasped, and the garden tool fell from her hands, clattering on the cement floor.

  “Mac! You scared the b’jeebers out of me.” She laid her trembling hand on her chest. “What’re you doing sleeping here?”

  He looked away, his husky whisper filling the garage. “I hope you don’t mind. I don’t have any place else to bed down.”

  Her throat closed up at witnessing the beating his pride had taken admitting that. “Well, you certainly can’t be comfortable sleeping on the cement floor.”

  “Actually, I’ve been sacking out on the back seat of your car ever since I cut your grass, but you locked the GTO yesterday. I’m sorry I jimmied open your garage window.”

  “It’s okay. You just should’ve told me you had no place to stay. I could’ve found—”

  “Believe me, compared to where I’m used to sleeping, this garage is like the presidential suite at the Waldorf.” He stared through her as if she weren’t there for several moments until his attention eventually returned. “How’re you feeling today?”

  “A thousand percent better. I think I must’ve had one of those twenty-four hour viruses.” She picked up the foil-wrapped cake. “I got up late, so I haven’t made anything for breakfast. I can warm up this coffee cake for you. You can eat the whole thing if you’d like.”

  “Hey, breakfast doesn’t get better than a whole cake.”

  ~~~

  Pleasure swelled in Abby’s chest that evening as Mac wiped his mouth and let out a contented sigh after dinner. He’d obviously enjoyed the breaded pork chops, homemade applesauce, au gratin potatoes, and fresh asparagus she’d prepared.

  “That was incredible.”

  She pushed back her chair. “I hardly think one meal can make up for how lousy I’ve fed you the past two days.”

  “What do you mean? The food’s been fabulous.”

  “You really have been deprived, haven’t you?”

  He stood to help clear the table and glanced at the kids. “Why don’t you fellows pitch in and empty the trash?”

  “Mac, they’re only six. They’ve never taken out the garbage. I don’t think they even know where the can is.”

  “Well, it’s time they learned.”

  Royce’s face beamed. “We can do it.” He pulled the garbage bag out of the trash can, and Tommy helped him twist it up. The two of them hauled the bulging sack out the back door.

  Mac cocked an eyebrow at her. “See? If you give them some responsibility, they’ll surprise you. You baby them too much.”

  “I do no such thing. They’re just little boys.”

  “Oh, come on. You cut up their meatloaf of
all things. You don’t even give Tommy the chance to wipe his own mouth.”

  She spun around and glared at him. “Don’t tell me how to raise my son. I don’t need advice from people like you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? People like me?”

  “Half the world has told me I shouldn’t raise a boy without a father. I think I’m doing just fine with my son.”

  “You’re doing great.” He took her hand and gazed into her eyes. “But I don’t think you realize Tommy’s growing up and doesn’t need your help as much anymore. You’re keeping him from becoming self-sufficient.”

  She stared back into his dark, gentle eyes and gasped. That’s why they seemed so familiar. Matt’s had been the exact same shade. When the boys raced back inside, she herded them toward the hallway. “Okay, guys, time for your bath. Let’s make it quick. Uncle Rob is bringing his address book tonight to help me make a guest list for our wedding. He’ll be here soon.”

  “I suppose you still run the tub for them and shampoo their hair, too,” Mac called after her in a patronizing tone.

  She did. But that really couldn’t be classified as babying them. They were only six. Just because she enjoyed doing things they could learn to do themselves didn’t make her a bad mother.

  Mac followed them to the bathroom door and watched from the hall while she set the stopper in the tub. He glanced at the boys. “How come you don’t take a shower, instead, guys?”

  “We never take a shower,” Tommy told him.

  “Why not? You’re not babies. It saves on water and it’s a lot quicker. Why don’t you try one tonight?”

  “Yeah,” Royce squealed. “How about it, Tom?”

  Abby stepped back, letting Mac squeeze into the bathroom. He showed the kids how to operate the faucet, explaining they should always turn the cold water on first to avoid scalding themselves.

  When Royce pulled off his polo shirt, Mac stared at the faded bruises on the child’s back. His features hardened until his face looked as if it belonged on Mount Rushmore. He stepped out of the bathroom and called back to the boys, a catch in his voice, “Just make sure you don’t use too much shampoo.”