see.”
She settled onto the bed next to him, setting the box on her lap. “I hope there’s nothing embarrassing in here. But heck, you’ve seen the unicorns. It can’t get much worse.”
“You dragged me up here. So come on, open it up.” As Ian leaned in to get a closer look, his shoulder bumped against Brooke’s; she bit down hard on her lip as the brief contact unleashed a sudden, warm quiver of awareness in her belly.
Realizing her fingers were trembling, she hesitated, pressing her hands to the sides of her shorts to steady them. What was wrong with her? Surely she was strong enough not to crumble the moment Ian McCarthy sat next to her, close enough to kiss with only a turn of her head.
After a moment she gathered her wits and pulled back the box flaps, then began lifting out the contents: a stack of old ticket stubs from movies she and Faith had seen together, tied up with a rubber band; beaded earrings she had made in the third grade; painted rocks and collections of sea shells saved from a school trip to Nova Scotia. Smiling to herself, she relaxed into the nostalgia of rediscovering this collection she’d all but forgotten about.
At last she found the small cherry-wood box, recognizing it at once. Lifting it out, she opened the lid to reveal the broad, oval-shaped silver band inside, adorned with an intricate Celtic knotwork design. Though badly tarnished, the bracelet was still striking, and as Brooke admired it she remembered her surprise and delight when she first opened it at her sixteenth birthday party.
She touched the cool metal with her fingertips. “It’s very pretty, Ian.”
“I only saw you wear it that one time, at that dance where—” he began, then paused. “Well, I suppose I misread the meaning of it.”
Realizing he was referring to the kiss she’d rebuffed, Brooke felt her chest constrict with regret.
She slipped the bracelet onto her wrist, remembering just how it had looked when she wore it with her burgundy dress, having painted her nails a matching shade. “It meant a lot that you gave it to me. As much as any of my other presents—maybe more.”
The corners of his mouth curved slowly upward. “Then it was worth it. The agony of making that box in shop class, as well.”
“You made the box? You didn’t tell me.”
Ian nodded. “I suppose I was embarrassed. It’s somewhat less than perfect.”
Picking up the small box, Brooke ran her fingertips over the smooth wood, examining the off-center lid and rough, uneven corners that she hadn’t noticed before. “It is perfect. It’s beautiful,” she said, as her heart swelled at the thought of him struggling to assemble it, just for her.
On impulse she leaned over and pressed her lips to his cheek. Closing her eyes only briefly, she breathed in the scent she recognized from the sweater he lent her during their walk by the marina. Masculine and comforting, the fragrance embodied his presence.
As she drew away from him, her stomach clenched with the understanding that she didn’t deserve any of it. She slid the bracelet off her wrist and set it back in the wooden box.
“Suppose your parents catch us up here together,” Ian remarked lightly, his mouth tilting into a roguish smile.
Swiftly packing everything back into the cardboard box, Brooke set it on the floor by her feet. “I think Mom would be happy to find me alone with a man.”
“Eager for grandchildren, is she?”
“I just turned thirty. She might not admit it, but I know she’s getting antsy.”
“And you?” he wondered.
“Not so much,” she admitted, releasing a sigh. “I’ve been too busy with my career to look for Mr. Right. Seems that everything in my life is pretty up in the air at the moment. Actually, I’m feeling rather directionless right now.”
Ian met her gaze, his soft green eyes regarding hers with gentle understanding. “I’m sorry to hear that. Even if it takes some time, you’ll find your way.”
Caught in his gaze,
She settled onto the bed next to him, setting the box on her lap. “I hope there’s nothing embarrassing in here. But heck, you’ve seen the unicorns. It can’t get much worse.”
“You dragged me up here. So come on, open it up.” As Ian leaned in to get a closer look, his shoulder bumped against Brooke’s; she bit down hard on her lip as the brief contact unleashed a sudden, warm quiver of awareness in her belly.
Realizing her fingers were trembling, she hesitated, pressing her hands to the sides of her shorts to steady them. What was wrong with her? Surely she was strong enough not to crumble the moment Ian McCarthy sat next to her, close enough to kiss with only a turn of her head.
After a moment she gathered her wits and pulled back the box flaps, then began lifting out the contents: a stack of old ticket stubs from movies she and Faith had seen together, tied up with a rubber band; beaded earrings she had made in the third grade; painted rocks and collections of sea shells saved from a school trip to Nova Scotia. Smiling to herself, she relaxed into the nostalgia of rediscovering this collection she’d all but forgotten about.
At last she found the small cherry-wood box, recognizing it at once. Lifting it out, she opened the lid to reveal the broad, oval-shaped silver band inside, adorned with an intricate Celtic knotwork design. Though badly tarnished, the bracelet was still striking, and as Brooke admired it she remembered her surprise and delight when she first opened it at her sixteenth birthday party.
She touched the cool metal with her fingertips. “It’s very pretty, Ian.”
“I only saw you wear it that one time, at that dance where—” he began, then paused. “Well, I suppose I misread the meaning of it.”
Realizing he was referring to the kiss she’d rebuffed, Brooke felt her chest constrict with regret.
She slipped the bracelet onto her wrist, remembering just how it had looked when she wore it with her burgundy dress, having painted her nails a matching shade. “It meant a lot that you gave it to me. As much as any of my other presents—maybe more.”
The corners of his mouth curved slowly upward. “Then it was worth it. The agony of making that box in shop class, as well.”
“You made the box? You didn’t tell me.”
Ian nodded. “I suppose I was embarrassed. It’s somewhat less than perfect.”
Picking up the small box, Brooke ran her fingertips over the smooth wood, examining the off-center lid and rough, uneven corners that she hadn’t noticed before. “It is perfect. It’s beautiful,” she said, as her heart swelled at the thought of him struggling to assemble it, just for her.
On impulse she leaned over and pressed her lips to his cheek. Closing her eyes only briefly, she breathed in the scent she recognized from the sweater he lent her during their walk by the marina. Masculine and comforting, the fragrance embodied his presence.
As she drew away from him, her stomach clenched with the understanding that she didn’t deserve any of it. She slid the bracelet off her wrist and set it back in the wooden box.
“Suppose your parents catch us up here together,” Ian remarked lightly, his mouth tilting into a roguish smile.
Swiftly packing everything back into the cardboard box, Brooke set it on the floor by her feet. “I think Mom would be happy to find me alone with a man.”
“Eager for grandchildren, is she?”
“I just turned thirty. She might not admit it, but I know she’s getting antsy.”
“And you?” he wondered.
“Not so much,” she admitted, releasing a sigh. “I’ve been too busy with my career to look for Mr. Right. Seems that everything in my life is pretty up in the air at the moment. Actually, I’m feeling rather directionless right now.”
Ian met her gaze, his soft green eyes regarding hers with gentle understanding. “I’m sorry to hear that. Even if it takes some time, you’ll find your way.”
Caught in his gaze,
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