A Year to Remember (3 page)

He tightened his grip and pulled me closer. My head rested against his chest, just as it had all those years ago. His hand moved up and down my back and I swear he sniffed my hair. I started to get tingly all over as his hard body rubbed up against mine. I cursed myself for letting him affect me that way, when I should have known better.

Goldman encompassed all my favored physical attributes. Even though my mind understood he was a jerk, my body lusted after his. I wanted to run my fingers through his dark brown wavy hair, stare into those deep chocolate eyes, and strip off his clothes. That’s why I usually stayed at least five feet away from him at all times.

Under the circumstances, I wouldn’t be able to follow my own rules.

The longer we danced, the faster my pulse raced. I swore I felt his own heart beating quicker, too, and his breathing seemed deeper, as if he couldn’t get enough air.

His lips brush my ear.
Oh my God, was he going to kiss me?

“I liked your speech, Sara. All your talk about
beshert
.”

I didn’t dare raise my eyes to meet his. Instead, I kept my gaze focused on his chest.

“Thanks, Goldman. That’s nice of you to say.”

“Do you really think you’ll find someone to marry you within the year?”

I pushed him away from me, angry at myself for believing for one moment there could be anything between us.

“You are such an asshole, Goldman.”

For a moment, I thought I saw hurt in his eyes. Then, I reminded myself Goldman would have to have feelings in order for me to hurt him.

I stormed away from him, intending to return to my table to eat dinner and complain to Missy. Before I managed to leave the dance floor, someone tapped my shoulder.

I spun around expecting to find Goldman with another one of his so-called compliments.

“Would you care to dance?” Caleb asked.

Although I really wanted to eat, I couldn’t turn down a dance with the one handsome eligible bachelor I didn’t hate.

“Sure, I’d like that,” I said, moving back onto the dance floor.

He put his left hand on my upper back and his right hand in mine. I felt like Elizabeth dancing with Mr. Darcy.

“Doesn’t your date mind you dancing with someone else?”
Even an overweight, frizzy haired one like me?

He shook his head and smiled. “Staci and I are just friends. She has family in Detroit. She came with me from New York so I wouldn’t have to go stag to the wedding.”

Hmm, single and available. Too bad he lived in New York and I lived in Michigan. Or was that a good thing?

We could have one of those romantic long-distance relationships. One where we talked for hours on the phone, learning each other’s secrets and typed explicit emails about what we planned on doing to each other when we finally reunited. Build up everything, so that when we were together, the reality couldn’t possibly top the fantasies we’d created. Spend lots of money we didn’t have on airfare.

Okay, maybe a long distance relationship wasn’t such a good idea.

“You give a good speech by the way. I agree. It isn’t easy finding someone.”

I waited for the ridicule and the criticism, but it never came.
He gave me a compliment!

“Thank you. I’m sure you don’t have any problem getting a date though, do you?”

He smiled sheepishly. “No, you’re right, I can get a date whenever I want one. But it’s like you said in your speech. It might be easy to meet a person, but it’s much harder to find the right one.” He stared into my eyes with a look so hot it could melt an iceberg.

Was he talking about me?

I tried to think up some clever, witty retort. I drew a blank. Instead, I smiled and nodded.

“Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

Before the word “yes” left my mouth, I remembered my earlier reservations about dating someone long distance.

“I’m sorry, but you live in New York, right?”

“I do, but I’m moving here next month. In fact, I spent this week searching for an apartment, when I wasn’t keeping your brother from freaking out.”

I laughed at thought of my brother panicking over his impending nuptials. “Yes, I’d love to go out with you sometime. Can I give you my number?”

He grinned at me as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, hit a couple of buttons and turned it to me. “I already got it from your brother.”

Caleb walked me back to my seat. Missy stopped talking to my father as we approached, her eyebrows rising telling me she wanted to hear all the juicy details.

I leaned in and whispered into her ear. “I’ll tell you about it when we leave.”

Four hours later, I finished dinner, ate a slice of wedding cake, and managed to drink another five glasses of champagne. After dancing to every Motown classic, I wanted to collapse from pure exhaustion. Most of the guests left, but some of my brother’s friends continued to dance and take advantage of the open bar. Missy and I already said our goodbyes to my family.

“I’m ready to go. Do you want to get our coats from the dressing room?”

“I’ve got to use the ladies’ room first. Why don’t you get our coats and I’ll meet you in the lobby?”

“Sounds good to me.” I stumbled my way to our dressing room. Plunged into darkness as the door closed behind me, I couldn’t find the light switch. I hit my knee against a chair and groaned from the pain.

The door opened and someone entered the room. I assumed it was Missy coming to rescue me once again.

“I can’t find the light switch, Missy. Do you know where it is?”

Without warning, someone yanked me tightly against his warm, solid body. I heard his slight intake of breath and then he kissed me.

I know I should have fought against it, but whoever he was, he kissed sinfully well. At first, his soft lips whispered lightly against my own, seeking permission. When not only didn’t I stop him, but made a little moan of approval, his tongue caressed my lips until I opened my mouth. Only then did he allow his tongue to touch mine, first tentatively exploring the hidden depths of my mouth, and then hard and passionately, as though he’d never get enough of me.

He tasted like a heavenly combination of whiskey and cake. His tongue teased mine in sweet caresses, heating my blood to a fevered pitch.

Desperately needing to learn the identity of my mystery man, I lifted my hand to touch his face. He grabbed it away, nibbling on each fingertip then gently brushed his fingers across my cheek. I licked my lips in preparation of more kisses, but instead of kissing me, he spun me around in circles, confusing my sense of balance. As the world tilted on its axis and I tried to regain my bearings, he silently left the room.

For a few minutes, I stood rooted to the spot, attempting to recover from the encounter and craving more from my mystery kisser. Blushing from my response to him, I knew although I’d never seen his face, I would have made love to him if he’d asked. Before him, no one in twenty-nine years had made my body burn that way.

Suddenly, I remembered the room’s two floor lamps. I floundered around the room until I smacked into one. After finding our coats, I left the synagogue with Missy.

Ending the evening of my twenty-ninth birthday with a kiss from my mysterious suitor should have thrilled me. Instead, I wondered why he (as drunk as I was, I was pretty sure I would have noticed if it was a woman) didn’t unmask his identity.

Was he married?

Self-conscious?

Fifteen or eighty-five years old?

Or even worse, embarrassed to be discovered kissing me?

Tired of being alone and bringing Missy as my date, I learned one important lesson that night. I ached for what my brother had found with Emily. I yearned for my soul mate.

How would I find him?