He paced around the room, and she watched the way his long strides made the muscles in his lean shoulders flex with each step. His tweed trousers hugged his lean frame, topped with a clean white button-down shirt and gray suspenders that dotted his shoulders with red tips. He had removed his hat when she came through the door, and his shaggy brown hair was pressed down across his forehead; it took everything within her not to reach out and brush it away from his face, his perfect face. He had full pink lips that stretched into a wide, trusting grin, the kind of endearing smile that let the receiver know that everything was going to be fine. His face was still now, though, as his bright blue eyes bore into her face, his cheeks ruddy. He pulled a chair out from behind his bed, his hands shaking ever so slightly.
“Please sit.”
Wendy sat obediently, her eyes never leaving his face. His mouth opened and poured out a great jumble of words. “I’m guessing that you found the letter tucked into The Woman in White. Before you send me crashing down to earth, please just let me explain. I understand that we are not of the same social standing. Your family is rich, and while my father and I are not extremely poor, I am certainly not a suitable suitor in your parents’ eyes. However, I have a plan.”
Wendy stayed silent, watching Booth pace around the room.
“If you share my affections, I will take an internship at your father’s firm. My father can find someone to help with the store in exchange for food and a warm place to sleep, I’m sure of it. I will take an internship, and in a few years, I will become one of them. I’m sure of it. I’m smart. I’m a fast learner, and I’m good with numbers. I will begin attending Mass with your family. At first they will take me out of pity, but if I work on them long enough, surely I can win your parents over as a man worthy of your hand. My father will eventually leave me the bookstore, but hopefully by then I will be so successful in my own right that I can hire someone to run the store, and perhaps branch out into other stores. Surely owning a number of stores would be quite a legacy for our children, no? That is . . .”
Wendy was trying not to smile now, as she watched Booth, always so collected, tie himself into knots.
“Of course, if you reject this proposal, I will absolutely understand, for God knows that there are some holes that could possibly arise in each projected outcome, but in each plan, if one depends on . . .” Finally, his blue eyes met Wendy’s. “Oh, Wendy, I’m sorry. I haven’t even asked you if you feel, if you share . . .”
Wendy looked at the ground for a moment before raising her eyes to meet his, family and class long forgotten.
“Booth.” She struggled to find the right words. Finally, she let a smile creep across her face. “I feel . . . yes.”
Booth crossed the room in a few steps and knelt in front of her. “Oh, Wendy, my darling . . .” He reached for her hands. She extended them toward him and he grasped them gently, her fingers curling into his, the exact same way they had six years ago, when they had just been children together. Moving very slowly, he began to peel the glove off her left hand first.
“Wendy, the way I feel about you, it’s pure, you must know. I’m not talking about having a secret affair in my attic. I’m talking about a proper, public courtship, because if I may confess, my feelings for you have been suppressed for years, and I refuse to waste those years trying to hide what we’ve known for certain.”
Wendy was having a hard time breathing as Booth pulled the white glove from her hand.
“You must know . . .” he murmured. “That you are a beauty divine, and though the lines of your face have driven this man to madness, that I love you most for what lies inside of you, for you are a good soul, Wendy, a loving sister and kind friend, and you have a wondrous mind.”
“Booth.”
“Shhh . . .” With that murmur, he bent his head and gave her the softest of kisses on her open palm. It was as if her skin had been set on fire. Desire raced through her palm and through her body, so taking her by surprise that she practically leapt up and out of the chair. Booth stepped backward.
“Wendy! Dear, have I offended you? That was too forward. I should have known, I’m sorry. Here, I will help you put your glove back on. I have been presumptuous and improper.”
He didn’t have a chance to finish, because Wendy stepped up in front of him, her heart hammering. The glove fell to the floor. Booth, never a person comfortable with silence, went still, his blue eyes widening as her face came closer to his. Wendy looked at his face, so close now. Then she raised her ungloved hand and traced her fingers over the places that she had so longed to touch, longed to touch for years, her desire unleashed with the kiss of her hand. Her fingertips ran over his lips, over his stubbly cheeks, over the small scar that dotted the side of his mouth, the result of a fall from a bookshelf two years ago. She touched his long black eyelashes, his strong Roman nose, traced his jaw to the curve of his neck. This boy that she knew so well, as close to her heart as her own family, was now a man, and with each beat of her heart, Wendy found herself pulling more and more away from her childhood. Finally, her hand found a place on his shoulder, and she raised her eyes to meet his.
He looked down at her face with amazement before murmuring, “Wendy.” He lowered his lips to hers and with a brush as soft as a feather, dashed them against her own.
It was her first kiss, and he tasted of whipping cream and books.
She sighed.