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Her therapist had warned her she might not be comfortable with a man for a long time, and might have some difficulty with intimacy as she worked through what had happened. She’d encouraged Kelsey to take her time before getting involved with anyone romantically. Kelsey had intended to take her advice. Michael, she had told herself over and over, was only a friend.
But as the days edged into weeks and slipped into months, Michael remained at her side, just a phone call away, always ready to take her to dinner, help her in her job search once she’d decided to remain in town to be near her parents, or just hang out and talk all night if that’s what she needed at the time. And never once during all that time had he so much as tried to kiss her.
Until one night when it had just—happened. They were at her place—she’d finally convinced her parents she really needed a place of her own, especially now that she was becoming more firmly established at Peter Montage’s art gallery. The job paid next to nothing, but thanks to the sizable stash of gold and cash James had left her, money really wasn’t a consideration. At first it had been more about getting out and being around other people, but Kelsey had discovered she had an eye for good art. The gallery specialized in jewelry as art, and Kelsey loved combing the markets and craft fairs for undiscovered talent to bring to the gallery.
That particular Friday night, Michael and she were sharing a pizza and a bottle of wine at her place while watching some sappy movie. She had a nice buzz from the wine, and Michael looked incredibly handsome, his white linen shirt open at the throat to reveal the tufts of dark blond hair on his broad, muscular chest, his eyes sparkling in the glow of the television, his ash blond hair falling over his forehead.
She hadn’t planned it, or even thought much about it at the time. She had just leaned over and kissed him, lightly, on the lips. After a moment, he had kissed her back. And then his arms had come around her, catching her in a warm but gentle embrace. It hadn’t been awkward or weird, as she’d been afraid it might after all this time and all the sexual trauma she was still working through in therapy. It had just felt—right. Their mouths fit together, their bodies molding comfortably against each other as they stretched out along the sofa.
That first night they’d only kissed. She hadn’t felt rushed by Michael, but nor had he treated her like some kind of fragile china doll that might break if he touched her, and she had been grateful for that.
When they finally did make love, some two weeks after that first sweet kiss, the connection was powerful and fierce, from both sides. Their bodies had melted together, and then melded together, as if they’d been waiting all their lives for precisely this moment in time. She had wanted him as much as he had wanted her, and for the first time in her nearly twenty-four years, she had understood what all the fuss was about.
“I was gonna save this till tonight when we go out for your birthday dinner, but…” Michael flashed a sudden, impish smile in her direction.
“What?” Kelsey twisted toward him with a grin. “Is it a present? I love presents.”
“Well, it’s just a little something I saw at a gallery in town…”
“You didn’t.” Michael had been snooping around the gallery for the past week, and she’d begun to suspect he had some ulterior motive beyond his claim he was just seeking the pleasure of her company.
“I did.” Michael pulled an oblong jewelry box with a bedraggled satin bow tied inexpertly around it from beneath his towel. He held it out to her with a flourish. “Happy birthday, dear heart. I hope you like it.”
Kelsey took the box in eager fingers and tugged at the bow. As she lifted the lid, her mouth fell open in surprise. “Michael,” she breathed. “How did you…?” She looked up at him. “This isn’t for sale. It’s part of her private collection.”
“I can be very persuasive,” Michael replied with a straight face, though his blue eyes were dancing.
It was a piece by Lourdes Pablo, a local designer Kelsey had discovered at a craft show, whose exhibit at the gallery had taken the local art community by storm. Kelsey had greatly admired this particular bracelet, woven from strands of rose gold, copper and white gold, but had never dreamed it might be hers.
“Seriously, how did you get her to part with it?”
“It was simple. I told her it was your birthday.”
“Wow, really?” Kelsey shook her head in wonderment.
“Really.” Michael smiled that warm, kind smile of his that always made Kelsey feel cherished. “You may not realize it, Kelsey, but you’ve done a lot of very good things for a lot of people since you moved down here. If you hadn’t discovered Lourdes and talked Peter into giving her a show, she might still be selling her beautiful work at crappy county fairs and flea markets. She was happy to part with it when she heard it was for you.”
