When The Words Are Spoken

Chapter 1-2

Michael sat blinking for several long moments, beyond stunned. Random thoughts swirled in his mind, preventing any sort of reaction. The idea that Sheridan, his beautiful, amazing Sheridan, might want him had never crossed his mind. He adored her, of course—it was impossible not to love such a special woman—but he didn't think anything would come of his affection, so he never acted on it.

It was stupid, really, he realized at last, his brain chattering at pace with his pounding heart. I've seen the signs. She hugs me often. Well actually, she hugs everyone, but she must hug me twice as much as anyone else, and there was that one time, during her senior year when she kissed me on the cheek. Every now and then, I catch a glimpse of something in her eyes when she looks at me…something like longing. It seemed impossible, and yet, shockingly, it's also true. Sheridan Murphy just asked me, Michael Burke, to be her boyfriend.

She bit her lip, looking strained. “Well, can you say something?”

He tried to think of the words to reassure her, but nothing came to mind. Instead of responding normally, he blathered, “Sheridan, I… wow. That wasn't what I was expecting. Okay, give me a moment, please. I need to realign several years of thinking.”

Sheridan waited, trying to be patient, but looking ready to jump out of her skin.

Michael, sensing her discomfort, lifted her hand onto his knee and laid his free hand on top of hers, so it was sandwiched between both of his. He felt a hint of tension leave her. “Okay, I can see what it cost you to say that, and I appreciate your directness. First, I need some clarification. When you say…be with me, what do you mean? Like dating? Going to dinner and a movie and all that?” It was an asinine thing to say, and he mentally kicked himself the moment the stupid words crossed his lips.

“Why, Dr. Burke, was that a cliché? I'll have to mark down your essay,” she teased, easing the tension.

He gave her a lopsided half-grin. Thank you, sweetheart. His grin sparked one of hers, not the sunshine-bright smile that normally left him stammering like an adolescent, but a more cautious, nervous curving of the lips.

She hurried on. “Okay, I'll stop kidding. It was a lame joke anyway. Yes, something like that, except we're not teenagers. We don't need to go to a movie unless we both want to see it. I could see us… I don't know. I like going to concerts, walking in the park, having picnics, visiting museums. I know you like those things, and it would be fun to do them together. Also, just spending time together doing nothing at all.”

It sounded wonderful, perfect, but his brain remained hazy and unfocused while his mouth, completely unbidden, spouted nonsense. “Sheridan, we already do many of those things.”

“Yes, but as friends. I'm hoping to go as a couple.” Her eyes pleaded.

Such beautiful hazel eyes. And those lips, saying the things I always dreamed of but didn't think I'd ever hear. “When did you decide to do this?” Why did he sound like he was arguing? Stop arguing, you i***t.

“To ask you? Over the summer. I just couldn't wait another minute. Michael, I've wanted you since the end of my sophomore year.” Her fingers tightened on his.

“Really?” His dark eyes widened. “Why?”

“Because you're so… amazing. I don't know. The more time I spent with you, the more I wanted to spend. You're just special.”

Okay, I'm asleep and dreaming this again. “Good Lord, you must be joking. I'm nothing special. Just a grumpy old professor. And you… you're so beautiful. I guess I can't imagine what about me would be attractive to you.” He lifted his uppermost hand from the top of hers and reached for one springy, golden curl, but stopped short of actually touching it.

Sheridan's face fell. Her next words made him wince. “I would have thought, as much of my writing as you've read, as much time as we've spent together, you of all people would know I'm not so shallow.” She squeezed her eyes, and when she opened them, moisture shimmered in the corners. “That hurts. What have looks got to do with it anyway? I'm attracted to your mind, Michael, to your soul. Don't you feel anything towards me?” Her voice grew smaller with every word. Then she lifted soulful eyes, regarding him through thick, wet lashes.

Oh boy… He lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed it, a courtly gesture.

She rotated her hand in his, so they could lace their fingers together.

“Don't be sad. I… okay.” Get control of your mouth, man, before you ruin the moment. “You've been forthright with me; I can do no less. You're right, this is difficult.” Deliberately steeling himself to do one of the most terrifying things he'd ever done, he told her the long-concealed truth. “Yes, I have feelings for you.”

Her beautiful eyes lit up.

“I'm attracted to your beauty, of course, and your smile…” He broke off as his heart clenched. “And you're right. I know better than to assume you're shallow. In fact, I think I've been attracted to you about as long as you say you have to me. You were my student for so long. I couldn't do anything while you were in my class. And you kept on taking my classes, semester after semester.”

He released what was left of his breath. No wonder she was babbling. Once I pulled the cork, the dam gave way and the whole river came flooding through.

“I wanted to be near you,” she explained. “I also wanted you to be proud of me. Most of all, I wanted you to know me. I wouldn't have written as well for anyone else because I would have held back. I trust you. But, Michael, I haven't been your student in two years. Why haven't you said anything since then?”

“Shyness,” he said ruefully, “and the knowledge that you couldn't possibly be interested in someone like me.”

Her lips curved, though he'd hesitate to call it a smile. “You were wrong.”

“And that shocks me. You know,” he said as heat suffused his cheeks, “you were my muse as well.”

“I was?”

“Yes.” He flushed hotter. “Remember all those times I gave you poems different from the rest of the class—the anonymous ones—because I said the others were too easy for you?”

“Yes. They were very beautiful,” she replied, and the pinkish glow on her golden skin spoke to the resonance of their feelings.

“I wrote them.”

“Oh, Michael.” Her warm hand squeezed his palm.

He swallowed hard. “I wrote them for you.”

Her bottom lip sagged. “I'm the sunshine woman?”

“Yes.”

The curving of her lips no longer looked so nervous, but still fell short of her full, ebullient radiance. “Well then, I guess that answers the question, doesn't it?”

“It does?” He tilted his head, pondering her meaning… and her face.

“With this degree of mutual attraction, it's clear we belong together.”

Yes! a little voice inside him roared, but he responded mildly. “It would certainly seem so. You have to understand, though.”

“What's that?”

Lord, she’s beautiful. Has anyone ever turned such a gaze on me? “I don't know how to do this,” he admitted.

She looked at him with a quizzical expression.

Michael examined his fingernails. Bitten to the quick, as usual. “I've never really dated.” He dared a glance and found her considering him closely.

“Never?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. I never wanted to… until I met you.”

She raised his hand in hers and pressed her cheek to it. Her skin felt velvety soft. “Don't worry, Michael. We'll work it out. I know you pretty well, and I have some idea what to expect.”

This time, Michael forced himself to think. Finally, he spoke, his voice dark with emotion. “If you're willing to… fumble through it with me, then yes, I would like to try being a couple.”

She flashed him a dazzling Sheridan smile that lit up the whole room and impulsively hugged him.

He slipped his arms around her waist. At first, he felt a little awkward, but soon he relaxed in the lovely warmth of her body. Sheridan was made for cuddling, and he had no defense against her lusciousness. There's something different about this hug than the ones with which she's ambushed me over the years. It speaks of a greater heat than mere friendship. The heat shot straight to his groin.

After a long moment, she pulled back a fraction, looking him full in the face from a short distance. The impact of her hazel eyes hit like a punch to the gut.

Michael swallowed hard. You know what she wants. This is no time to hold back. Releasing her waist, he laid one hand on her face.

She leaned her cheek into his palm.

Heart pounding, he forced himself forward and touched his mouth softly to hers. His belly thrilled at the warm sensation of her full, wonderful lips.

As kisses went, it was simple and chaste, but the years of suppressed emotion behind it lent it power. He could feel the strength of her affection, and it mirrored his as they lingered, brushing their lips against each other over and over until nerves faded and kissing Sheridan felt like the most natural thing in the world.

He released her so he could take in the sight of her. Her hair, a nimbus of golden curls, spilled down around her shoulders He'd tried to avoid ogling her figure for so long, but at last, he failed. His eyes traced a shape favored by a bygone generation; soft shoulders, full breasts, narrow waist, curvy hips and bottom. No scrawny miss, Sheridan had a figure like a siren. She's glorious, like a nature deity. She has the kind of figure to make any man—even one who lives like a monk—think of only one thing. She's deliciously beautiful, and shockingly, she wants me.

She stared up at him with a dazed expression in her hazel eyes. A plump lip slipped between her teeth and she worried it in a mixture of uncertainty and provocation.

The sight made Michael feel feverish and achy. He kissed her again, a brief, intense smudge of his lips that promised hot, sweet things to come… another day. Then he stood, helping her to her feet beside him.

“I have to go for now. We both have class early tomorrow.”

“Yes, I know,” she replied with a wry twisting of her lips. “Are we still on for the riverfront this weekend?”

“I wouldn't miss it,” he told her earnestly.

“Goodbye, Michael. See you tomorrow?”

He thrilled to find himself able her silky cheek without prompting.

She leaned into his touch.

“Certainly. Thank you, Sheridan, for being willing to risk yourself this way. It means more to me than you know.”

“And you taking a chance on me is more than I could have imagined,” she replied.

He traced her cheekbone with his thumb. This is not taking a chance, sweetheart. It's a dream come true.

She wrapped her arms tight around his chest, leaning her head on his shoulder. He rested his chin on her springy curls. With every inch of her womanly softness compressed against him, he thought he might just go off like a rocket.

Her hand left his back and slid up his shoulder and neck, capturing his cheek and drawing him down so she could initiate a last soft kiss. “Good night, Michael.”

Opening the door was the last thing he wanted to do. Once he found himself in the hallway, he felt just as deflated as he'd feared, and yet, elation warred with his body's eagerness. Somehow—I'll never know how —we're actually together.