Proxy Bride (The Lindstroms Book 1) Read online

  A whole new Jenny stared back at her.

  The jeans had always looked good, but she had lost a few pounds between the years she spent in college and the years she lived in Gardiner, so the waist fit perfectly now. The cream of the blouse and sweater matched her hair, and she was right about the crystals—the buttons on the sweater caught her eyes, and she followed them all the way up to her ears.

  Her reflection was a revelation. She still looked like herself, only better, sleeker, more sophisticated. She could definitely pass for a girl from Great Falls tonight, if not somewhere even more cosmopolitan. She blushed at her conceited thoughts and remembered Pepper in her gowns and designer labels.

  No need for a swollen head, Jen. You look good. Good, and that’s it.

  She was holding Casey at the kitchen table when Sam knocked on the door. Her tummy leapt, and she couldn’t stop the spreading smile on her face. After putting Casey back in her playpen, she took one last look at her face in the hallway mirror before she answered the door.

  He had his hands braced on the doorframe and was looking down when she opened the door. He looked up slowly, from her little shoes, to her velvet pants, to her soft cream sweater. His eyes lingered on her blouse, and Jenny stood frozen, waiting. She swallowed nervously and bit the inside of her lower lip, waiting for his eyes to meet hers.

  And then they did.

  Surprise on Sam’s face was nothing new to Jenny. She’d even seen admiration before now, but this expression was entirely different. Inexperience notwithstanding, she knew instinctively that she was looking at want.

  Focused. Carnal. Want.

  He swallowed, his body tense and almost completely motionless except for his eyes, which lowered again in languid approval from her eyes to her toes. His breath exited his lungs until they were empty, and the end sound was ragged, labored. As he breathed in deeply, he raised his eyes again, and his gaze shifted then, tenderness phasing out want. He searched her face, and she recognized hope dawn in his eyes, which were vulnerable and unguarded. His lips turned up in a slight, impish smile, which suddenly made him seem very much himself again—the Sam she recognized.

  Watching these feelings play out on his face, an awesome joy exploded like fireworks in her head. She started laughing softly with satisfaction and pleasure.

  I’ve never felt this beautiful in all my life.

  “Hi,” she offered shyly.

  “I can’t speak.”

  “You just did,” she teased, flicking her own eyes up and down to check him out too.

  Was it effortless for him to look as good as he did?

  Casually handsome, he was what Jenny would special order if she wanted her heart to skip a beat and her throat to go dry with wanting. He still had on his jeans from earlier, but he had swapped out his flannel shirt and sweat shirt for the crisp white shirt he had been wearing with his suit yesterday, and added a black belt. His black coat was long and sleek, and she knew it would be soft if she ran her fingers over the sleeve or along the collar—soft and maybe warm from his skin. She noticed the pulse in his neck, beating like a beacon.

  Warm, for sure.

  Sam cleared his throat, staring at her, watching her with a quiet intensity. “I’ve never seen anything as pretty as you.”

  A flush of heat colored her cheeks, and she looked down, overwhelmed by such flattery. “Even in Chicago?”

  “Nowhere. Never.”

  He took a step toward her, and Jenny backed up so he could come inside, though she felt a little nervous to be alone in her apartment with him. The attraction between them was like a tight guitar string attached from his heart to hers; it was as though someone had just plucked it, and it hummed and vibrated between them like a current, like something alive. It was too much, too intimate, like something irrevocable or life changing was about to happen.

  “I have to get my bag,” she said. “Give me a sec.”

  She turned and headed for her room, shutting the door quietly behind her and sitting on her bed to collect herself.

  His reaction was everything she had hoped for, and from the look on his face, she guessed that he was falling for her as hard as she was falling for him. The comfort in knowing her longing for him was mutual wasn’t exactly comfortable. It frightened her too. This wasn’t a man who lived in Gardiner, to whom she could willingly and safely give her heart. While Sam might be technically available, the differences in their lives also made him unavailable, and if she wanted to protect her heart, she needed to remember that.

  Be careful, Jenny. You’re playing with fire here. Be careful of your heart.

  How she wished she could talk to her mother. Ask her how she knew she was falling in love with Pappa. How it made her feel and if she was frightened and unsure and excited all at once. She closed her eyes, breathing in, and opened them, breathing out.

  Noen elsket meg en gang. Jeg er velsignet.

  Like an answer to her prayer, she heard her mother’s loving voice in her head: Make memories tonight, Jenny-girl. Just be sure they’re memories you want to keep.

  “Ja, Mamma,” she whispered.

  Then she grabbed her bag and left the quiet of her room behind.

  ***

  Sam hadn’t moved since she left the room.

  He was trying to breathe normally.

  He was trying to assuage the effect she had just had on his body before she came back.

  He was trying to remember he was leaving on Monday.

  He was losing the first two battles. His pulse was so fast and his blood was rushing so hard to one specific place, he was feeling light-headed. Finally sitting down on the little loveseat, he put his head between his knees. He concentrated on slowing down his heart, breathing in and then out. In, then out. His head started to clear, and he felt other areas of his body relaxing too, thank God. He sat back, shaking his head, at a loss.

  He was telling the truth when he said he’d never seen anything as pretty as her. Just as he had expected a chubby Brunhilde at the courthouse, tonight he had expected the same Jenny from today in her old jeans and beat-up boots. The most he had hoped for was that she might leave her hair down for an evening out. The Jenny that had materialized at her apartment door was a revelation. She was a stunner, a knockout, a beauty in any context, in any city, in any town, anywhere.

  And she offered this gift to him.

  Every moment he spent with her was making him dread Monday. He moved toward it like a condemned man, wanting to grasp and claw at the clock, turn back the hands and slow down time so he had more moments with her, more memories, more warmth to take with him when he returned to his cool, slick life in Chicago.

  Why couldn’t he have met her there? Why couldn’t she have been in Chicago for some reason, any reason, and they could have met and had a chance with each other? The unfairness of finding her and not being able to have her frustrated him. His forehead creased in thought. But, wait, Sam. Wait. A small kernel of hope materialized in his head, and he couldn’t shake it. You don’t know if she’d consider coming to Chicago. Maybe to visit. Maybe to just visit and see what happens. And maybe she’d like it. Maybe she’d give it a chance.

  Could he ask that of her? A small-town girl, living a perfectly contented life? Sure, he could. He could ask her to visit. He wouldn’t pressure her, but if she said yes, he’d show her the best of Chicago and see what she thought. And sure, maybe it was unlikely that she’d agree, but he couldn’t shake the possibility. Besides, he’d never know unless he asked. He would just have to wait for the right moment.

  She came back out of her room with a bright smile, and he stood up.

  “Thanks for this,” he said. “For your beautiful outfit, and…” He gestured at her helplessly, unaccustomed to feeling so clumsy around a woman.

  “Thank you. It was fun to dress up. I don’t get the chance very often. The last time I wore this was at UGF.”

  She moved to the front closet and took out her parka, struggling to put it on while holding her
purse.

  “Let me help you,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  As she zipped up, he lifted her hair off her neck where it was trapped under the collar, just as he had at the courthouse. He gently laid her hair back against the open parka hood, watching it mix effortlessly with the white fur of the hood, then put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him.

  She looked up at him, searching his face, then flicked her glance quickly to his lips before finding his eyes again. And it was that gesture—that tiny gesture—that gave him the courage to do something he’d wanted to do since the moment he arrived tonight.

  Later, he would have sworn his heart stopped beating as he bent his head toward her, touching his lips to hers for the first time.

  Her breath released in a soft sigh against his mouth as she moved her hands up, flattening them on his chest. Leaning into her, he moved his hands down her back slowly, over her shoulder blades, following her spine to the small of her back, where they rested against the shell of her down parka. He ran his tongue lightly along her lips, eliciting a small moan from deep in her throat and making his fingers curl in excitement and pleasure. Her mouth parted slightly in invitation, and he touched his tongue to hers, sucking it gently into his mouth.

  Sam had kissed a lot of girls in his life. A lot. So the fact that this girl—this sweet, beautiful country girl who tasted like fresh air and sunshine—could make shivers run down his arms told him something. If he hadn’t been sure before, he was sure now: he was definitely falling for Jenny Lindstrom.

  Her knees must have buckled a little because he felt her lean into him, and he wondered if she could feel his hardness against the soft cradle of her hips.

  She turned her head away and broke off the fledgling kiss before he could deepen it any further, stepping back and looking up at his face. He stared back at her lips in amazement. He noted no difference in them, and yet they were permanently changed for Sam. He had touched them, tasted them, and staring at them now—for one brief, desperate moment—he wished they belonged to him.

  She smiled at him, tentatively at first, then with more confidence as she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.

  “Jenny, I—”

  “Me too, Sam.” She opened her eyes, and his breath caught.

  Is the tenderness in her eyes just a mirror of my own?

  “Jenny…”

  He was lost in her eyes. The same bright eyes he’d seen flash with spirit and kindness were now heavy with passion. If he kept staring, he’d kiss her again. He’d kiss her senseless. He’d kiss her until tomorrow morning if she let him. But he didn’t want to scare her. He didn’t want to ruin anything as amazing as the kiss they’d just shared.

  She didn’t resist him as he pulled her against his body and put his arms around her, closing his eyes as he held her. She smelled of shampoo and wind and the outdoors. He waited, breathlessly, to see if she would pull away, but after a moment, he felt her arms encircle him, her palms flat against his shoulder blades. She gently leaned her head sideways, resting it on his shoulder.

  Wild promises and impetuous declarations flooded his mind at the threshold of such sweetness, but one prevailing thought stilled them all: Holding her is the best feeling in the whole world.

  He felt her lift her head and start to pull away, so he leaned back, looking at her face, smiling into her eyes. She wriggled away from him and unlocked the door, then turned to face him, offering him her hand. “Come stroll with me?”

  He took her hand and let himself be led out the door.

  ***

  Gardiner loved Christmastime.

  The street was festooned with sparkling red-and-white lights like blinking candy canes, zigzagging across the small Main Street. Hundreds of people walked in and out of stores, restaurants, and boutiques, greeting one another cheerfully with “Merry Christmas!”

  A musical system piped jolly carols through Main Street, and as the strains of “All I Want for Christmas Is You” filled the air, a smile spread across Sam’s face. He squeezed Jenny’s hand, feeling happiness bubble up inside of him, caught up in the festive fun of a country Christmas Stroll. Not that he would admit it to anyone, even under torture, but the sweet, sexy Christmas song was actually one of his favorites, and he knew the words by heart. ’Cause I just want you here tonight / holding on to me so tight. / What more can I do? / Oh, baby all I want for Christmas is you…

  It was nothing like Chicago, which also bustled at Christmastime in a teeming, moving mass of people who moved anonymously, consumed with their own lives, shopping, pleasure. It had been a long time since Sam had been surrounded by such a genuine sense of community, and he realized how terribly he must have been missing the wholesome cheerfulness of Montana at Christmastime. The engaging familiarity of attending Jenny’s Christmas Stroll was like not only restoring a forgotten memory but reviving it totally, to see it bright and blazing before his eyes.

  Sam kept Jenny’s fingers tightly laced with his as she directed their course.

  Their plan was to walk all the way down Main Street, to enjoy the decorations and lights and then have dinner at the Grizzly Guzzle Grill across the bridge, where Lars worked as a bartender. And lastly, they’d catch the tree lighting at Arch Park near the Yellowstone entrance.

  “Heya, Jenny.”

  “Hi, Miss Lindstrom.”

  “Hello, Jenny!”

  It seemed everyone who passed them knew Jenny, and she received more than a few curious looks just as she had the night before.

  Sam also noticed, with narrowing eyes, that every man in Gardiner suddenly seemed to have the pretty schoolteacher on his radar. More than one did a double take as they walked by, nodding appreciatively as they took a second look, then grimacing when they realized she was holding hands with someone else.

  With a bit of bemusement, Sam realized it wasn’t totally unlike walking into a club with Pepper, except Jenny seemed completely oblivious to the attention, smiling and greeting people as kindly as she had the evening before.

  What a difference in these two women. Both beautiful, but one knows it and one doesn’t.

  They peeked in windows, pointing out decorations to each other. Jenny indicated her favorite shops and boutiques, and they grabbed gingerbread cookies from a little booth outside of the saddler’s shop.

  Nothing tasted quite like fresh gingerbread.

  The warm, fresh-baked cookies immediately conjured up memories of Sam’s childhood kitchen. Arriving home after school at Christmastime, the smell of his mother’s baking would make his mouth water before he even had time to shuck off his backpack in the front hallway. And there she’d be in the kitchen, taking batches of gingerbread out of the oven to be cooled and decorated later. There was always enough for him and his sisters, and there was cold milk too. She’d tell him to wait for it to cool down, but he’d bite too soon in anticipation and not even feel the sting of the burn on his tongue, savoring the spicy sweetness of her Christmas cookies.

  “These taste like my childhood,” he said with a sigh.

  “Good, right?” She reached up a finger to gently brush off a lingering crumb at the corner of Sam’s mouth. Currents zapped between them like electricity, and Sam’s tongue darted out to lick where her finger had touched.

  He cleared his throat. “Any more?”

  She smiled like a minx and shook her head slowly, raising her eyebrows at him knowingly. “Nope. No more.”

  “Tease,” he whispered.

  “Look who’s talking.”

  He grinned at her, taking her hand again as they continued walking.

  Their walk took them to the Gardiner Tackle Shop at the end of the street, and beside it, Sam noticed a white structure that resembled a small country schoolhouse. It only took him a moment to realize it was the constructed Gardiner High School booth, all twenty pieces fit together by Erik and Lars that afternoon. He smiled at how merry it looked, roped with evergreen and white lights.

  The booth ha
d open windows on all four sides, and a large shelf in the front of the booth offered hot apple cider and cider donuts. A cluster of senior girls sang Christmas carols a capella from inside. Beside them was Principal Paul, looking dapper in a navy suit and Santa hat, greeting his students and their parents and exchanging holiday cheer.

  Paul’s face brightened as they approached, focusing tenderly on Jenny. But when his eyes followed her arm down to her hand, securely attached to Sam’s, he cringed briefly, shifting his eyes up to Sam with disapproval.

  Sam followed as Jenny dropped his hand and crossed the sidewalk to talk to Paul.

  “Hey, Paul,” she said. “Booth looks good.”

  “Evening, Jen,” said Paul. “Sam.”

  Sam had it in him to feel sorry for the guy. “Good to see you again, Paul.”

  “Jenny!” She turned and hugged an older woman and young girl beside her, effectively leaving Sam and Paul staring at one another across the booth’s cider shelf. Paul gestured for Sam to follow him to the back of the structure, where they couldn’t be overheard by the cider-and-donut crowd.

  “Don’t hurt her,” said Paul, flicking his eyes to Jenny.

  Sam didn’t have a ready answer to this command. He wished he could say he would never hurt her, but their growing feelings and imminent separation would make such a declaration foolish. Pulling two connected things apart always left a mark, which meant that saying good-bye on Monday would hurt. If it were any consolation, she wouldn’t be the only one in pain. Sam was sure of that.

  Paul read his rival’s face like a book, then shook his head in disgusted resignation. “Okay. Then I’ll help her pick up the pieces when you go.”

  Sam clenched his teeth together, tightening his jaw. “We’ll figure it out. Jenny and me.”

  “Jenny and I,” Paul muttered, shaking his head at Sam. “If she were mine—”

  “She’s not.”

  Paul inhaled sharply and stared at Sam with searing blue eyes, hurt and angry at once.

  “It won’t end well, Sam. She’s a small-town girl.”

  “It’s none of your business, Paul.” He was about to turn away when he felt he owed Paul some small conciliation. “We didn’t know this would happen. We didn’t plan it.”