Do You Hear What I Hear?

by Holly Jacobs

  “Really? Other than myself, when’s the last time you’ve been kissed by a man? Better yet, when’s the last time you kissed a man?” The thought of Libby kissing anyone else gave Josh a burning feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  “I…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Ha. You don’t know.”

  “I do, too. I just don’t kiss and tell,” she said, all prim and proper.

  But not too proper, he knew. No, the bristles and properness disappeared when she was in his arms. “Oh, shut up, Libby, and kiss me.”

  “You are the most frustrating man I’ve ever met.” But even as she said the words, she slid across the seat and back into his arms.

  “And you are the most kissable woman, despite your inability to park a car and the prickly facade you like to maintain.”

  “Oh, just kiss me,” she muttered.

  “What about Meg?” he mumbled as he planted a tiny row of kisses up her neck and across her jawline.

  “She’ll be fine for a few more minutes.”

  Half an hour later Libby crept into the house.

  “So, how was it?” Pearly asked.

  “The movie was fine, though I’m not sure Josh would say the same.”

  “Not the movie. The parking.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She leaned down and unlaced her boots, unwilling to look Pearly in the eye, sure that her guilt was written boldly on her face. Well, not exactly guilt. No, guilt wasn’t what she was feeling about Josh, but she couldn’t quite pin a name on the feelings he inspired.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she repeated, rising and unbuttoning her coat.

  “Sure you do. You two were out in the car for almost three quarters of an hour. Are you going to try and tell me that all you were doing was talking? Not that talking’s bad. Why, getting to know each other is important to a relationship, but I have a feeling that you were getting to know each other with more than words.”

  “Pearly!” Her fingers stilled on the last button.

  “And, of course, the fact that the windows got all foggy meant I couldn’t see much, but did lead me to believe that you were doing more than talking.”

  “I don’t know why you all seem bound and determined to push Josh and me together.” She forced herself to finish removing her coat, forced herself to try and sound calm. “Why, he’s an arrogant, opinionated man—”

  “Man is the operative word, sweetums. All men are arrogant and opinionated, but not all of them can kiss a girl senseless, and by the look on your face, I’m guessing that’s exactly what Joshua did.”

  “So you’re saying I’m senseless?” She bristled.

  “You can’t pick a fight with me, Libby, hon. And I’m not saying you’re senseless. Actually, if you had a little less sense and worried a little less, it might be better. What I was saying is that while you’re kissing Joshua, you forget.”

  “Forget what?” She didn’t really need to ask, she already knew. When she kissed Josh she forgot everything.

  “Forget all your absurd reasons for avoiding relationships.”

  “I don’t avoid—” she started to say, then cut off the lie. “My reasons for avoiding relationships aren’t absurd.”

  “Libby, honey, you’ve made avoiding emotional connections an art. Do you know how many years it took for you to open up to Josie and me? And we work with you every day, and yet you maintained that safe distance. You’d probably still be keeping us outside of your boundaries if we hadn’t hammered away at that wall. You might not have noticed it, but Josie and I can be persistent.”

  Libby snorted. “I think that might be one of the biggest understatements ever.”

  “But despite the fact you’ve let us in, there’s still a section of yourself that you keep behind that wall. You think it makes you safe, but it just makes you lonely.”

  Pearly’s words hit a little too close to what Josh had said. “Do you really feel as if I’m trying to keep myself separate?”

  “Honey chil’.” Libby could sense some down-home wisdom was about to be imparted by the thickening of Pearly’s accent. “My mama always said that a woman afraid to love was a woman afraid to live. And, sweetums, you’re about as afraid as they come.”

  “I’m not afraid, I’m—” Libby searched for a word “—cautious. I’m just cautious.”

  “That’s what you tell yourself.” Pearly shook her head. “Now, Meggie’s asleep and I’m leaving before I get myself fired.”

  “Like you’d listen if I fired you. No one listens to me. I tell Mabel I don’t want to chair this stupid party, and here I am chairing it. I tell all of you to stop trying to throw Josh and me together, and you’re still throwing. I tell Josh I’m not kissing him—I tell myself I’m not kissing him—”

  “And there you are, sitting in the car parking with him?”

  “Yeah,” Libby admitted with a sigh. “So, I don’t imagine if I told you that you were fired you’d stay fired.”

  “Well, there is that, but I’m not taking any chances.” She put on her coat and opened the door. “You think about what I said.”

  “The only thing I’m thinking about is going to bed.”

  Pearly tsked once or twice but left without making any more noise.

  That was good. That was great. Libby was tired of people telling her she was running away from life. She was tired of being told a woman had to have a man to be fulfilled.

  She was more than filled—filled to the point of overflow. She had her job, a business she owned. She had friends. Oh, those friends might occasionally be pains in her butt, but they were good and Libby knew she could always count on them. And last, but not least—first, as a matter of fact—she had Meg. Her daughter was the best part of her life.

  Why on earth did she need a man to clutter things up? He would certainly complicate things. And Libby didn’t need any more complications.

  She walked down the hall and couldn’t resist opening Meg’s door. Her daughter was a wild sleeper. Her hair fanned over the pillow, the covers twisted into knots, and…she was utterly the most wonderful thing Libby had ever accomplished in her life.

  Libby couldn’t resist straightening the covers a bit.

  “You’re home,” Meg signed sleepily. The hall light peeking through the door illuminated what she said.

  “I’m home and you’re supposed to be asleep,” she scolded her daughter. It was a relief being the one in charge, the one doing the scolding for a change.

  “I was, but you woke me up.”

  Libby leaned down and kissed Meg’s forehead. “Sorry.”

  Meg sat up in bed. “How was it?”

  Libby sensed there would be no quick escape, and sat on the edge of the bed, resigned to a late-night discussion with a ten-year-old. Though she knew what Meg was asking, Libby couldn’t help but hope she could avoid the discussion.

  She played dumb and asked, “How was what?”

  “Josh,” Meg fingerspelled.

  “We had a nice time.” Nice. Nice might be the appropriate word to describe any number of things, but it seemed inadequate to describe her evening with Josh. Her thoughts turned momentarily to their Parking with a capital P in the driveway.

  No, nice wasn’t the word she’d use to describe her evening with Josh, but Meg didn’t need to know just how much more than nice the evening was.

  “I’m glad,” Meg said.

  “Why?”

  “I like Josh and he likes me. He likes you, too.” And that, to a ten-year-old’s way of thinking, was enough.

  For someone who’d been against her dating Josh, Meg had done a total turnaround. What was it about this man that charmed women old enough to be his grandmother, and young enough to be his daughter?

  Libby tucked the covers in around Meg, determined to put an end to this discussion, but instead of getting up and leaving Meg so the poor kid could get some sleep, she found herself saying, “But when you thought that first business meeting was a date, you were mad.”<
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  “I was wrong. You’re happy with Josh, happier than you’ve been in a long time. I hope he sticks around.”

  But he wouldn’t stick around, Libby knew. He might like them both, but eventually he’d leave just like everyone else did.

  Like Mitch had.

  Pearly had hit the nail on the head with her armchair psychoanalysis—Libby ran from relationships. She remembered when she’d first met Mitch. The feelings she’d had for him were so big, so grand that she would never believe they could wither up and die. And yet they had. If what she had felt for Mitch—the man she’d been married to for four years, the man she’d had a child with—couldn’t last, what could?

  Nothing. These feelings she had for Josh were transitory. Lust. That’s all. The feelings would eventually fade away.

  What she felt for Meg was timeless and endless. She gave her another small kiss on the forehead and slipped from the room, stopping to steal one more glance at her daughter just before she shut the door. Meg’s eyes were closed, and it appeared she was already back to sleep.

  Looking at Meg, talking to Meg, marveling at the wonder of this child she’d raised, that was what mattered. Meg was all that mattered.

  How was Libby’s relationship with Josh—a relationship she hadn’t even begun to define—going to affect her daughter? When he left, and he would leave, would Meg be hurt? And did that potential for being hurt outweigh what Josh had to offer Meg here and now?

  Libby didn’t know.

  All she did know was that being with Josh made her feel alive, and she wasn’t ready to let go of that feeling. Maybe she and Meg could grab enough happy memories to dull the ache of losing Josh when it came.

  Slowly she changed into her pajamas and crawled into her big, lonely bed, replaying the evening in her mind. Thoughts of Josh and his sense of humor, his seemingly genuine fondness for her daughter, and his kisses—definitely his kisses. That’s what circled through her mind as she tried to sleep, not the questions she couldn’t answer.

  And when sleep finally did claim her, those thoughts haunted her dreams, as well…. Hot, erotic dreams.

  Chapter Eight

  “So?” Libby asked that weekend, though she really didn’t need to hear how the party at Mercyhurst had gone. The answer was written all over Meg’s face.

  She’d spent the afternoon of the Mercyhurst Sign Language party waiting and worrying. She worried they wouldn’t have a good time, she worried they’d have too good a time. She worried Josh would feel out of place, she worried Josh would feel too much at home. She…Well, after this afternoon, Libby had decided she had made worrying an art form.

  But from the expressions on Josh and Meg’s faces, all her worry had been for nothing. Meg was practically glowing.

  And so was Josh—glowing in a grown-up male sort of way.

  Darn. Wherever Libby turned, there he was. Haunting her days…and her nights. And she knew she was going to remember that he looked as excited as Meg at this particular moment in time.

  Trying to sign while she removed her jacket, Meg practically tied herself in knots but managed to say, “Josh learned to sing ‘Jingle Bells’ with me. Tell him to show you.”

  “Meg wants you to show me how the two of you sign ‘Jingle Bells,”’ Libby dutifully repeated.

  Josh removed his jacket and put it in the closet. “Did she mention how bad I am?”

  Libby laughed. “No, I don’t think she did.”

  “Tell her thanks.”

  Meg laughed as Libby signed Josh’s statement to her. “He’s not bad.” She paused and added, “Not too bad. He does the jingle part really good.”

  Libby grinned. The jingle bell part of the song required pretty much just a shaking of the hands.

  “Are you ready?” Meg asked Josh, and Libby translated.

  They led her into the living room. She’d lit a fire in the fireplace earlier, and it was warm and inviting. Libby curled on the couch as she watched Josh and her daughter laughing their way through the signed version of “Jingle Bells.” Meg had been very generous. Josh was horrible. But it was the sheer awkwardness of his attempts that was so…well, endearingly cute.

  When Meg picked up the tempo, leaving Josh in the dust, he leaned over and slugged her shoulder, ever so casually. That one small gesture said so much.

  Josh saw a little girl when he looked at Meg—nothing more, nothing less. And though she kept smiling, Libby felt her throat constrict. When the song finished, and Meg and Josh took their bows, that constriction threatened to outgrow her ability to hide it.

  Joshua Gardner had told her once that most people thought he was nice. And though Libby had avoided admitting it to him, those people were right. Libby eyed the dark-haired man who was laughing with her daughter. Those people he’d referred to didn’t know the half of it; Josh was a very nice man.

  “I’m going to go see if Jackie or anyone’s online, okay?” Meg asked, and then took off without waiting for an answer.

  Libby watched her run down the hall, and wanted to call her back. She wanted to chase after her daughter and continue to use the ten-year-old as a buffer between her and Josh. With Meg in the room it was easier to relax around Josh and concentrate on things other than kissing. But as soon as Meg left, Libby couldn’t help but glance at Josh’s very kissable lips.

  Darn. She had to stop this nonsense.

  Libby had been unloading the dishwasher when they’d come in and she decided to finish doing so, anything to keep her hands busy and off Josh.

  He rose and helped, silently matching her movements and generally getting in her way.

  He was in her way a lot. At her side, in her thoughts. In her fantasies. Why couldn’t she seem to shake this man?

  “You know, we seem to end up in here a lot.” He stacked the plates and deposited them on the counter.

  “What?” Libby nervously began to rinse the dirty breakfast dishes.

  “Here in the kitchen, doing dishes and…”

  “And?” She shut off the water, then turned and bumped into Josh.

  “And kissing.” His voice was low and husky. He advanced a step.

  Libby tried to dodge his advance, but was stymied by the counter. “Josh,” she warned.

  “The dishwasher’s empty.” He reached out and gently brushed his hand against her cheek.

  Libby resisted the urge to lean into the small caress, just as she was resisting the urge to plant her lips on his. Kissing Joshua Gardner was addictive.

  Dishes, not kisses. Now that was a much safer topic to concentrate on than kissing.

  “But there are still dishes to go into the dishwasher,” she said weakly.

  “They’ll wait a minute. I’ve been thinking that after each part of the job is done we should kiss.”

  “Why?”

  He closed what little space remained between them.

  “Why kiss? Because it will make the next job go faster.”

  “How will our kissing make the next job go faster?” She should move, should slip past him and finish the job at hand. Better yet, Libby should show Josh to the door and get him out of her house and out of her head.

  Trouble was, getting Josh out of her house might be easier than getting him out of her head. Thoughts of him interrupted her days, and her nights.

  “If we kiss after each job, we’ll be so anxious to get another kiss, we’ll rush right through it, so kissing will make the work go faster.”

  She was sandwiched between the counter and Josh. The warmth of his body was comforting somehow.

  “That’s your great idea?” she asked.

  “Do you have a better one?”

  “How about this?” No longer willing to let Josh take the lead, and disregarding all her misgivings about getting involved with him, Libby moved into his arms and kissed him. Just this once she allowed herself to taste the wonder of him with abandon. She feasted on his lips, deepening the kiss and losing herself in his taste.

  So long.

  It ha
d been so long since she’d felt this kind of desire, this sense of rightness. Finally breathless, she pulled away, awed by her daring.

  Josh’s breath brushed her sensitive lips. “It seems to me that was my idea.”

  “Pardon?” Libby forgot whatever they’d been talking about the second her lips touched his.

  “You said you had a better idea, but it was my idea to kiss after each job,” he maintained.

  “No, yours was to kiss after each job. Mine was to kiss whenever we could.”

  He reached out and traced her lips lightly with his finger. “I’m glad.”

  “Glad we kissed?” She squeezed past him, needing some distance. Being close to Josh was overwhelming. She attacked the dishes with gusto. Squirting some soap in the sink and rinsing them before loading the old dishwasher, which needed the added help in cleaning the dishes. Why she bothered running them through the dishwasher, she wasn’t sure.

  Just like she wasn’t sure why she was here, in the kitchen, playing with fire.

  “Glad we kissed—” he took a plate and put it into the dishwasher for her “—and glad we’re here, together, not fighting, just doing dishes together. In case I haven’t mentioned it before, I really like your kitchen. And I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed today.”

  “A party with a bunch of grade school kids, or are you talking about the kissing?” Libby handed him a glass.

  Josh accepted the glass and loaded it, falling into the rhythm of working with Libby. “Now, don’t get me wrong, kissing you is addictive. But the rest of it—being with you, being with Meg. I enjoy it. It feels right.”

  Right for now, Libby was sure, though she didn’t say it. She didn’t want to start another argument with Josh. As a matter of fact, if she was honest, she didn’t really want to talk at all, because talking made her worry about how much it would hurt when Josh was gone.

  No. She didn’t want to talk and most especially didn’t want to think rationally. She just wanted to kiss him. When she was kissing Josh she could forget the little voice that kept whispering that she was going to be hurt when he left.

  Hands soapy from the dishes, she turned, wrapped her arms around a very surprised Josh and kissed him again. Soft and playful, she pecked his lips and then flicked some bubbles at him.