From This Day On

by Janice Kay Johnson

  She looked really good. Her hair was shiny and bundled into a careless knot at the back of her hair. A strand had already escaped to curl on her neck. As she often did, she wore black tights or leggings, he wasn’t sure which. Today they were topped by a teeny tiny, very short, stretchy skirt with broad stripes of red and black that hugged a shapely butt. He completely approved. The fire-engine-red knit top had the slouchy neckline she seemed to like. Trailing her into the kitchen, Jakob couldn’t decide if he liked the sight of her ass better, or her nape and the shoulder that was mostly bared. The bare feet were cute, too.

  God help him if she told him what he’d said freaked her out and the deal was friends or nothing.

  But—wouldn’t she have worn something more gender-neutral if that was the message she wanted to send? Or maybe she didn’t know how provocative that stretchy bit of fabric over her ass was.

  Puzzling over that one, his attention was still caught by the smell of something really good when they reached the kitchen. Definitely Italian. When he heard her say, “Drive carefully, okay?” Jakob tuned back in.

  Amy listened for a moment. “I’ll expect to hear from you then,” she concluded, and closed her old-style phone before setting it down.

  “Mom’s heading for the coast in the morning. I pointed out that it would totally make sense for her to stop here—it’s halfway, right?—and spend the night at home on her way, but she was vague and I could tell she didn’t want to.”

  “Is it you she doesn’t want to see?”

  Quirky little lines formed between Amy’s brows. He could tell she was really thinking about it, but she didn’t appear all that bothered.

  “I don’t think that’s it,” she said after a minute. “I mean, she called. She just seemed...like maybe she doesn’t want a dose of the here-and-now in the midst of her past life regression. If that makes sense.”

  Yeah. It did.

  While she pulled a salad from the fridge and then a pan of lasagna, followed by garlic bread from the oven, she told him about her mother’s decision to visit old haunts.

  “How long ago did her parents die?” he asked, surprised.

  Amy had to pause to think, her small hands still encased in padded oven mitts. “Oh, boy. Her mother back when I was in college. She had cancer, I know. With my grandfather, it was his heart. I think he died not that long after Mom married Ken. Which would make it something like eight or nine years ago.”

  “Did you go to the funeral? Either funeral?”

  She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure there was one for my grandmother, but I’m not sure Mom even had one for my granddad. I mean, she saw to his burial, but... Obviously, she didn’t have a lot of fond feelings. Ken was with her that time.”

  Her tone told him she hadn’t been invited on either occasion. Not that anybody wanted to go to a funeral, but when you didn’t have a lot of relatives, it would hurt not to be included. That set Jakob to wondering how much it hurt to have her mother insist on making this journey into her past alone.

  “I didn’t know them that well,” Amy said. From the jut of her chin he could tell she was defying any pity he might dare to feel.

  “You didn’t have any fond feelings, either.” He didn’t know who he felt sorriest for, Michelle, Amy or the grandfather who, in the end, hadn’t had a single member of the family who truly mourned his passing.

  “No.” Amy handed him the basket holding the garlic bread. “Help yourself. Did you see the picture of Steven Hardy in the paper this morning?”

  Her last sentence came out of left field, but he only nodded. “I hoped you didn’t.”

  “Poor Mom.”

  Jakob could only nod. He finished dishing up and was quiet for the next few minutes mostly because the lasagna was so good. The sandwich he’d eaten at his desk for lunch was a distant memory, and pretty dry and unsatisfactory at that.

  “I’m sorry I got so mad the other night,” Amy said abruptly.

  His head came up.

  “I wasn’t fair. I do understand why you were so freaked out. And even why...well.” Her eyes slid away from his. Was her face coloring? “I mean, there I was, a teenage girl and a stranger, showing up to stay in your house and share your bathroom. Like you said, boys that age think about sex all the time, so...” Oh, yeah, her cheeks were definitely pink now. “Although really, I was so skinny and freckled and...I don’t quite get why you’d do anything but vaguely notice.”

  “You know you’ve got some serious self-esteem issues?” he asked, in lieu of getting mad.

  Her gaze, showing both alarm and surprise, touched his briefly. “That’s not true! Shouldn’t we be realistic about ourselves? I’m a good writer. I’m not a raving beauty.” Her bare shoulder lifted in a careless shrug. “I wouldn’t trade one for the other.”

  “I thought you were beautiful.” His voice was thick. “Still think. You can’t tell me no one else has ever said that to you.”

  “No-o. Not exactly.” In full-fledged blush now, Amy looked so shy, he was more reminded than ever of her younger self. “One guy said I had a pretty smile.” She seemed to be offering that up as...he didn’t know. A way to say, I haven’t been totally deprived?

  “You do have a pretty smile,” Jakob said as gently as he could. “But it’s more than that. You’ve always made me think of catching a glimpse of a wild creature while hiking. You go home feeling deeply privileged and awed to have been so lucky, and, hell, maybe sad, too, because you might never have a chance like that again.” And what was he doing, waxing poetic? If being compared to wildlife would seem flattering in any way to a woman. He braced himself for her reaction.

  She was staring at him now, her eyes so beautiful he couldn’t look away. “If you liked skinny and brown-haired, why did you marry a Nordic goddess?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I never let myself think about you. I never met anyone else like you. And your hair isn’t brown.”

  “Mostly.”

  He shook his head. “Chestnut, maybe.”

  “So.” Her voice had sunk to almost nothingness. “When you told me, were you just clearing your conscience?”

  Trust Amy to go for the jugular.

  “No,” he said huskily. “I guess I did want you to know I didn’t treat you the way I did because I despised you. You do have really crappy self-esteem, and I don’t like it. I hate knowing some of that’s my fault. But the truth is, seeing you and knowing for sure that we’re not related...” He felt like squirming. This was a lot harder than he’d envisioned, when he’d let himself imagine getting to this point with her.

  “Means you want to act on your teenage fantasies?” She might be trying to sound amused, so either of them could retreat from this whole idea at anytime.

  If so, Jakob didn’t like it. “I didn’t let myself have fantasies. There were a few dreams....” Don’t go there, he warned himself. Those dreams had seriously disturbed him when he was a teenager. “No.” Guttural, he didn’t sound like himself. “This is about here and now.”

  Anxiety and maybe even desperation filled her eyes, making the color even more extraordinary. He thought she would have liked to bolt, but wasn’t letting herself.

  Instead she kept her head high and her gaze meeting his. “So you want...?”

  Incredulous at the question, he tried to get a better read on her. Hard when all he had to do was look at her face and he felt a flicker of the wonder he’d tried to describe to her. Maybe beautiful wasn’t the right word. Wild was closer, with a forehead that was almost too high, wide, delicate cheekbones and the sharp chin, the whole forming a triangle dominated by eyes the color of a fox’s or a wolf’s.

  Did she really not understand what he was saying?

  “You,” he said. “I want you.”

  Was that a small flinch?

  And t
hen, belatedly, he got what she was asking. “Not...just to take to bed. If you feel anything the same, I want us to find out where it can go. I...really like spending time with you.” When she didn’t say anything right away, he had to clear his throat. “If...all you want is a stepbrother or, I don’t know, a friend, say so. I can dial it back. I don’t want to lose you, to make you so uncomfortable you don’t want to see me.” Oh, man, he sounded like a crazy. Why wouldn’t she crave a brotherly relationship with a guy who’d just confessed to having lusted after her for something like twenty years?

  It was all he could do not to groan. He should have taken it slower. Way slower. Said something like, Let’s be friends. And, yeah, I’ve noticed you’re a woman so that might be something we can explore someday if it doesn’t make you too uncomfortable.

  Amy seemed frozen. Paralyzed by shock.

  “God,” he said explosively, pushing his chair back. “I should have kept my mouth shut. You’re dealing with too much already. I’m such an idiot. I...”

  “I do.” It was barely above a whisper. Her expression was almost...stricken. “I mean, feel the same.” She kept looking at him, searching his face.

  For understanding? For reassurance that he wasn’t putting her through this on a whim?

  It took a few seconds for the sense of what she’d said to hit. When it did, jubilation slammed into him. She felt the same. He could have fallen to his knees in celebration and the most profound relief he had ever felt.

  “Amy.” He blundered to his feet.

  After the tiniest of pauses, she stood, too. He took a step toward her and with a shaky hand smoothed a wayward curl from her face, the way he’d imagined a thousand times.

  Then, very slowly, giving her time for second thoughts, he bent his head.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE BRUSH OF Jakob’s lips against hers was so soft, Amy almost thought she was imagining it. With her eyes closed, she could be dreaming. She stood with her weight shifted forward as if she was about to rise to tiptoe. She had the astonishing feeling of lifting her face to the sun, waiting for the heat to soak in deep and reach the place where she was always cold.

  His hand slid around to cup the back of her head. Still blind, she lifted her hands to his shoulders and flexed her fingers experimentally. A ragged sound escaped him. His mouth came back to hers, still gentle. He nibbled at her lower lip, suckled it, then soothed it with a stroke of his tongue.

  Amy wasn’t sure she could move. Was this really happening? Was his touch as tender as it felt?

  She touched his tongue with hers and whispered, “Garlic.”

  His tongue stroked inside her lips. “Balsamic dressing.” The smile could be heard in his husky voice.

  He nuzzled her, kissed her more deeply, then lifted his head. Amy had to open her eyes to see him. What was he thinking? The blue of his eyes had darkened to near navy, and from his expression he was completely absorbed in her. Everything she saw on his face stunned her. He looked stunned, too, and awed—that was the word he’d used. As if he couldn’t believe this was happening any more than she could. As if he’d never in his life wanted anything more. With his free hand, he caressed her cheek, and she felt him tremble.

  With a moan, she surged up onto tiptoe and kissed him. Hard, and probably ineptly, but with everything she had in her.

  He broke. The hand that had been on her face was suddenly gripping her butt and lifting her hard against him. The fingers on the back of her head clenched in her hair. He devoured her, his tongue thrusting now instead of tempting. She strained against him, and he pulled her tighter than she’d known she could go. She lost all sense of him and her. There was only them, pleasure and need underlaid by sharp disbelief.

  They turned in a half circle, a slow dance, and crashed into something.

  “Ow!” she cried.

  “What?” He lifted his head.

  It was the windowsill that had hit the small of her back. “I...we...”

  He swore and abruptly stepped back, his hands sliding to loosely grip her upper arms. “I lost it.” His voice came out guttural. “I don’t know what I was doing. Amy...I’m sorry.”

  Chilled, even though she could see the fierce need he was trying to bank in the slash of dark color across his cheeks and the glitter in his eyes, Amy shook her head. “It wasn’t only you.”

  “Man.” He squeezed her arms once, then let her go and backed up another step. “I was about to...” He looked dazed now.

  She wanted him to do whatever he had been about to do. Amy was a little shocked to realize how much she did want it, and him. Her knees were wobbling, an ache between her legs was sharper than she’d ever felt before, and she was still breathing hard.

  “Nobody has ever...” Oh, my God. Had she said that out loud?

  His eyes became more intense. “Has ever?”

  Polite lie, or make a fool of herself? But he’d given her honesty, and how could she do anything else?

  “Wanted me like that.”

  Jakob half groaned, half laughed. “Fallen on you like a starving animal?”

  This was beyond embarrassing, but she said it, anyway. “It sort of felt good.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. After what she’d said, Amy couldn’t quite bring herself to meet his eyes.

  “Yeah,” he said slowly. “It felt so good, I’m thinking maybe it’s better we bumped into something. Until a few weeks ago, we hadn’t seen each other in years. You thought I was your brother. Two days ago, you were shocked when I told you I wanted you when we were teenagers. I’m really pushing. You need to be sure.”

  Was she sure? Amy stood there feeling bemused and stupid even as she wanted nothing more in the world than to cast herself back against that tall, hard body, have his mouth descend again on hers, feel the vibration of his deep groans. Her gaze lowered to an erection there was no way he could hide, and she had to tighten her thighs to quell a vicious cramp of longing.

  But I had to ask myself whether I’m ready. That means something, doesn’t it?

  “Mom and Dad...” she heard herself say.

  His lashes veiled some of his intensity. “You’re thinking it’s going to be awkward.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  A nerve jumped in his cheek. “Probably.”

  She hated that he sounded so grim. She had hurt him, she suspected. What would he do if she said, Who cares about them?

  “Maybe we should...well, finish dinner,” she said instead. Speaking of awkward.

  He moved his head as if his neck was painfully stiff. “Okay. Sure.”

  They retreated back to their seats. Amy stared at her plate as if it was something unfamiliar—a Nordic ski binding, and she had to figure out how to wedge her foot into it.

  After a minute he took a bite.

  She did the same. She knew how to chew after all.

  Garlic.

  Balsamic dressing.

  They’d tasted each other. She stole a look at him to find he was watching her. She had a feeling he was thinking the same.

  “Dad suspects,” he said.

  “What?” Amy set down her fork.

  “I guess I’ve said enough, or gave off the wrong vibes when he was here. He, uh, isn’t all that happy.”

  “Oh.” Say something else. “If he was telling the truth and really does think of me as his kid, then, well, this would take some adjustment for him.”

  “It’s taking adjustment for us.”

  “Is it, for you?”

  He shook his head in negation, then nodded, too. “I can’t lie. Of course it is. I spent a lot of years denying what I felt. Even when I found out what happened to your mom and knew for sure that the two of us aren’t actually related, I didn’t immediately jump to thinking I’d do anything about it.” His
mouth quirked, relaxing his face to something closer to the Jakob she knew. “I took a whole week to admit I was kidding myself. I had to find out if there was any possibility.”

  “It should feel weirder than it does,” she blurted.

  He gaped at her for a moment, then shook his head and laughed, a low, rough sound. “Well, that’s the last thing I expected you to say.”

  “Because of the way I blew up at you the other night?”

  “No, because...” He frowned. “You never had any reason to suspect we weren’t brother and sister.”

  “That’s true, but we never acted like brother and sister. And what relationship we had was so many years ago....” She shrugged. That said it all.

  “Still.” He didn’t look satisfied.

  She knew, then, that she had to tell him some more of the truth, even if doing so made her feel naked. And not naked in the middle-of-a-passionate-scene way. More like if she’d walked out of the dressing room at the swimming pool without remembering to put her bathing suit on first, and now everyone was staring and she was trying desperately to cover her body.

  “The way you acted hurt my feelings more than I let you see,” she confessed. “And that was because I idolized you. You were big and strong and smart and handsome. Partly I was envious because you looked like Dad and even a little like Mom. You know?”

  Jakob nodded, his expression... Well, she wasn’t sure. Pitying? No, more troubled, Amy thought. The lines in his face had deepened.

  “But partly...” She tried to sound nonchalant; this wasn’t any big deal, she’d been a kid, and kids had these big, extravagant emotions. “Well, I thought you were cuter than any of the other guys. More...everything. It wasn’t, you know, romantic or anything, but the boys in middle school and high school never measured up.”

  She had one hundred percent of his attention. “If you’d known I wasn’t your brother...?”

  His voice made her think of the scratchy texture of his jaw when he was kissing her. Heat moved through her. “I’d have had a huge crush on you,” she admitted.