Chapter 6 #2
“Would you mind saying the blessings and lighting the candles while we scramble around the boat? I’ll give Temple Beth Hatikvah a shout-out on social media, of course.”
Libby turned to look at Micah, half-hoping he’d say no, but he didn’t even glance at her, which was oddly disappointing.
A warm smile lit his caramel gaze, making her chest feel tight. “There’s no need for an incentive. I’d be honored to say the prayers.”
Rebecca smiled back at him. “Thank you, Rabbi.”
“You rock, Rabbi Micah.” Talia gave him a bright grin. “Thank you for pitching in.”
Of course, she knows him. She and Jay go to the same temple.
“No, I rock.” Avi grinned at Micah. “Who is this guy?”
“Rabbi Micah Wasserman of Temple Beth Hatikvah,” Rebecca said. “Introduce yourselves later.” Her gaze flitted to Libby with an apologetic grimace, and she bit her lip, her gaze telegraphing a silent apology.
Libby shrugged, trying to look unaffected. I mean, so what if the big liar who didn’t want to admit knowing her was being welcomed into her intimate friend group like a hero? No big deal.
Nora snapped her fingers three times with Broadway flair and called, “Places, everyone!”
The crew scattered, leaving Libby, Rebecca, and Micah behind.
Too late, she took a step away, but she’d missed her moment to escape.
I want to watch him light the candles, she admitted.
It was only fair. He’d watched her light the candles in Palm Beach, after all.
Her head spun, and her cheeks felt hot. How many drinks had she had?
Rebecca shifted from heel to heel, the skirt of her blue mermaid skirt swaying like she was about to kick-start an old-school street bike and zoom away. “Jay can’t find the caricature artist.”
“Go,” Libby said, taking pity on her. “I’ll make sure the rabbi knows what to do.
” The success of the cruise depended on how fast they could get the party back on track.
She was only doing her part to help. Maybe hearing him pray would help her forget the indecent praise he’d whispered against her skin.
Rebecca thrust a cordless microphone into Micah’s hand. “I owe you big time!” She disappeared into the crowd.
Libby felt Micah’s gaze settle on her.
“You look beautiful.” His voice was gruff and formal, and it struck sparks in her heart—and lower.
“Thank you.” She straightened the handkerchief hemline of her bright red dress, biting back a compliment in return.
He was devastating in his dark suit, Hanukkah tie, and black wingtips.
His gold satin yarmulke sat on his curls like it was hanging on for dear life.
It was utterly charming, and it made her want to pull a bobby pin from her updo and secure it more firmly on his head.
Now that she knew more about him, it felt like that tether between them was growing stronger. He was Jewish. He lived in Manhattan. He knew Jay, for goodness’ sake. But he hadn’t shared any of that with her—why?
He held her gaze, unflinching. “I’m sorry, Libby. I wasn’t prepared to be put on the spot in public. I shouldn’t have done what I did—in Palm Beach or a few minutes ago. I’m ashamed of my behavior.”
His words struck her heart.
He was ashamed of what they’d done in Palm Beach? She’d spent all week having hot flashes while he’d been filled with regret? The thought made her sick. “I hope you aren’t talking about the sex.” She made her voice steady and cool. “Because if you are, then this conversation is over.”
“What?” His eyes shot wide. “No! The sex was amazing. Unbelievable. Honestly, best ever.” His gaze rolled over her like warm caramel, but she refused to be thawed. “But it’s complicated, and I’m still processing what made me act in such an uncharacteristic way. I swear I’m not usually dishonest.”
She wanted to believe him, but she’d been down this road before. Lying—about anything—was a huge red flag. “Micah, you lied about who you are. Being a rabbi is a pretty big deal. Then you denied knowing me to your colleagues, like I was some dirty little secret. You had to know that would hurt me.”
“I know.” He cleared his throat. “And I am truly sorry. Please believe me. It has absolutely nothing to do with you. You aren’t the part I need to hide. No one knows about M. Waterman. At least, no one except you.”
Another big red flag. “Why? If I could paint like you, I’d do nothing else all day.”
He looked away. “It’s complicated.”
I bet. “It’s an eight-hour cruise, Rabbi. Plenty of time to explain.”
He glanced around the deck. “Fine—but can we not talk about it right now?”
Seriously? “I’m sorry for inconveniencing you with my questions. Of course, we can wait until a better time for you.” She pumped acid-sweet mockery into her voice.
“It’s not that at all. I was hoping you’d give me a chance to explain.
That’s why I followed you out here, but—” He dipped to whisper into her ear, so close his fresh soap scent inspired a full-body sense memory.
His body caging hers against the tile. Her leg hooked in his elbow.
Him, nipping her neck with his teeth as he thrust inside her.
“My transgressions include painting you while imagining you naked, then actually seeing you naked, and then tasting you na—”
She shoved him away before she could give in to the urge to pull him closer. “You do understand that the naked part isn’t the issue, right? The lying about your entire identity during the naked part is the problem for me.”
“Absolutely.” He nodded. “But the lying is tangled up with a whole lot of naked, and I need to climb that ladder right now. I really don’t want to do it with a hard-on, so I am begging you to tell me what I need to say to the crowd and how I light that rather intimidating hannukiah, so I can focus on that instead of the way you look in that dress.
Stunning, by the way. I don’t want to take it off you.
Not at all.” He grimaced. “Why can’t I stop lying to you? ”
She shook her head and blinked at him, caught between irritation and laughter. Now that it was just the two of them, he was talking to her like he had in Palm Beach. “You know what? You suck.” His gaze heated, making her eyes widen. “Oh my God, stop.”
“I will if you will,” he said through gritted teeth. “At this rate, the crowd is gonna get an eyeful.”
Involuntarily, her gaze dropped to his crotch, currently covered by his suit jacket. But it wouldn’t be when he climbed the ladder.
She allowed her lips to curve. “It’s a twelve-foot hanukkiah. Maybe they won’t notice.”
“Please,” he said. “Have mercy on me before someone gets a picture of the tent in my pants and makes a shamash joke that goes viral. After the prayers, I’ll find you—I promise. I’ll try to explain.”
She relented. “Jay loves lighting the candles, and he’s a total ham.
He makes a huge production of it, talking up the charity and thanking people for being here.
He highlights how we can repair the world when we all work together.
There are a lot of moving parts to the Matzo Baller event.
Yes, it’s a huge party with great food and booze, but it’s so much more.
Like, the winner of the Minor League Dreidel competition gets a shoutout on social media, and every heavy hitter on board will give it a signal boost. Jay has literally launched small businesses from the deck of the Matzo Baller.
The silent auction alone made over two million dollars for charity last year.
” Micah looked like a deer in headlights.
Maybe this wasn’t the right approach. “But everyone here knows all of that. Don’t feel like you have to compete with Jay.
He’s in a class of his own. If you mention the charity, thank everyone for being here, say the prayers, and light the candles, we’ll be golden. Can you do that?”
He dragged an audible breath into his lungs. “Yep—I got it. How do I light the bulbs?”
“You just twist them like regular light bulbs.”
“Thank you.” He grasped the rail started to climb up the steps of the ladder that led to the narrow scaffold. She absolutely did not admire his tight ass. Or his thighs, thick and strong. She didn’t watch his hands—oh God, his hands—holding tight to the rail.
When he reached scaffold at the top and turned to face the crowd, she didn’t suck in a sharp breath at the high-voltage charisma in his smile. She really didn’t think about forgiving him, just so she could get his lips on hers again.
Not at all.
There’s no reason to be nervous. It’s just a quick speech. But it wasn’t—it was so much more. It was his chance to show Libby that he was a flawed man but a good one.
He couldn’t examine why that was so important right now because he had to figure out what to say—fast. There was no way he was going to mouth a generic “thanks for coming.” He was going to knock this out of the park.
He switched on the microphone and looked out over the crowd, gathering their attention and feeling the presence of God, as he always did, among His people.
“Shabbat Shalom,” he welcomed them.
They belted the traditional Shabbat greeting right back at him, louder than his congregation ever had, and his nerves dissipated.
He sent up a quick prayer of gratitude for the confidence boost and for the words that suddenly sprang to his lips.
“The usual Matzo Baller Master of Ceremonies, Jay Katz, is attending to last-minute details, so I’ve been asked to do the incredible honor of lighting our Hanukkah candles tonight.
When you see Jay on board, please feel free to tell him I do it better than he does. ”
The crowd laughed, and he heard a muffled “That’s what she said.”
Quiet snickers rolled from one end of the boat to the other. He waited for them to subside. “To be fair, I may have had more practice lighting candles, since I’m a rabbi,” he said with a wide grin.
A muffled groan and laughter rose from joker’s location.