“Of course we can, sweetie. You get some rest now.”
Sarah collected her things. As she stepped through the door, she crashed into something tall and firm that sent her cloth bag of paint and brushes clattering to the floor.
“Shit.” She dropped to her knees and began corralling the paint tubes before they could be stepped on and spill their contents.
The figure she’d collided with crouched too and scrambled to help. Sarah looked up. And froze. It was Joss.
“Sorry,” Joss mumbled before Sarah could say anything. “Bad timing, huh?”
Her eyes on the floor, Sarah resumed gathering up her supplies. “I should have looked, my fault. This could have turned into a real mess.”
A hand reached out and settled carefully on her wrist. “But it didn’t.”
Sarah wanted to be angry at Joss. She was angry at Joss and had been since their return to Nashville. She was angry at Joss for letting her go, for not coming after her and making her change her mind about them. Angry that she wouldn’t fight for them. Angry that she would not allow herself a shot at happiness. But sustaining her fury in Joss’s presence was almost impossible. At least, not when she wanted to fall into her arms.
“I meant to wish you a Merry Christmas,” Joss said, her voice cracking.
Then why didn’t you? But Sarah was every bit as guilty of shutting down contact. “Same to you, Joss.”
“Thanks.”
For a long moment, a moment in which Sarah felt her resolve crumbling, they gazed into one another’s eyes. What she saw there shocked her. Joss looked so sad, so lost, that it nearly made her drop her paint supplies and throw her arms around her. “Are you all right?”
Joss nodded, but not very convincingly. “I’ve been busy this week, that’s all. The sick don’t take Christmas holidays.”
And neither do you, Sarah thought. She stuffed her supplies back in her case and stood, ready to say good-bye and make a hasty exit. But something about the private suffering behind Joss’s eyes made her change her mind.
“Would you like to go for coffee? Or a quick bite to eat? I have a lot of work to do but…” Her confidence quickly deserting her, she was nearly ready to rescind the invitation when Joss quickly accepted.
“Let’s do the greasiest, best barbecue ribs in the city,” Joss said with a grin that was achingly familiar in its charm and temptation. “Jack’s on Broadway in an hour?”
Sarah hadn’t honky-tonked or eaten barbecue on the main drag in a dog’s age. It sounded fun. And so un-Joss-like that it made her accept before she had time to think about it.
She barely had time to change and get downtown to meet Joss at the appointed time. Well, she didn’t need to change out of her jeans and sweater, but she did, switching to her fancier jeans, the form-fitting ones with tiny sequins outlining the pockets, and a butter-colored blouse that was silky to the touch. She was sliding into her turquoise and brown leather cowboy boots when Lauren came bounding into the apartment.
“Ooh, big date?”
“Nope. A quick dinner with a friend, that’s all.”
“And would this friend happen to be your sexy cougar doc?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “I told you, Lauren, Joss and I are finished. We’re trying to be friends, that’s all.” She’d told Lauren about their falling out upon their return from Florida, and they’d not spoken of Joss again until now.
Lauren’s squint was the kind that said she didn’t entirely believe her. “You going to invite her to our little New Year’s Eve party Saturday night?”
“No, I am not. Why would I do that? We’re not dating, I told you that.” Sarah intended on keeping their baby steps to friendship exactly that, baby steps.
“Fine, but there might be other women here who would love to take a crack at your Dr. Hotness. Or is she Dr. Coldness now?”
The idea of someone dating Joss rankled Sarah. It shouldn’t, she reasoned, because she had no claim on Joss and vice versa. But it made her want to throw something. Or throw up.
“I’m going to be late,” Sarah said, much grumpier than when they’d begun this conversation.
Lauren’s eyebrows did a suggestive dance. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
* * *
Jack’s wasn’t busy, which was exactly what Joss expected, given that it wasn’t tourist season. She rarely went anywhere near Broadway between May and September, when the place was crawling with out-of-towners carrying their shopping bags of souvenirs and tromping around in shiny new cowboy boots that they’d purchased at one of the ubiquitous boot stores downtown. Broadway was so deserted this time of year that Joss wouldn’t have been surprised to see tumbleweeds blowing around.
A sign on the door said a live band would be playing blues music at seven. It was six now. If they hurried through their meal, they’d finish before the racket started. Although Joss didn’t want to hurry her time with Sarah. She wasn’t sure what she expected, what she hoped for, and she knew better than to hope for much. Sarah had been clear that they were as done as day-long smoked pork, and Sarah seemed like the kind of woman who kept her mind made up. But at least she’d get to spend some time with her. She missed Sarah, and when she contemplated what her life would be like again, the way it had been before, it was awfully desolate.
She licked her lips as the smell of smoke, mesquite and barbecue sauce set her nostrils twitching like a dog on a scent.
She claimed a table—scuffed and worn from years of use, but clean—and took the seat facing the door. She looked too eager, she realized belatedly, as Sarah breezed into the joint. Her boots and faded jeans were sexy, and so was the tight blouse hugging her curves. Her hair was tied back in a functional ponytail and her makeup was light. Joss loved seeing Sarah this way, sexy in a natural, relaxed way. There was nobody more glamorous when Sarah decked herself out in an evening gown, jewelry and makeup, but this, Joss thought with a sense of loss that was like the sulfur that followed a lit match, this was Sarah looking her finest. It made missing her all the more poignant.
Joss stood, but Sarah dismissed the gesture with a wave of her hand. She was smiling at least, but warily. They both had a lot to be nervous about.
“How are you?” Joss asked as Sarah claimed the chair across from her.
“I’m okay, if you balance it all out.”
“Balance it out? Like, add the good and the bad and come out even?”
“I’ll grant you that you seem to be able to decipher my verbal shorthand better than anybody else.”
That was probably true. They’d gotten good at picking up each other’s cues and nonverbal signals from all their formal functions, like when to rescue one another from a boring conversation, when to leave, when to stay, when to bail one another out of an awkward moment.
They each ordered a glass of beer and ribs for Joss, pulled pork on a bun for Sarah.
“You don’t have to go back to the hospital tonight?” Sarah asked.
“Nope. Tonight I’m all yours.” At the slight widening of Sarah’s eyes, Joss realized her verbal blunder. “I mean, we can stay as long as you like.”
“Are you sure? Cuz that band that’s coming up, Lauren says they’re really good. And I haven’t honky-tonked in ages. But I mean, if you don’t want to, I don’t mind sitting here by myself for a while.”
Oh no, Joss thought, I wouldn’t dream of cutting our time short. “I’m happy to stay for a while, although I have to be at the hospital by eight tomorrow morning.”
“Eight! That must be like sleeping in for you.”
“It is. My seven o’clock surgery got canceled, although I have a ten o’clock. So one beer tonight is my limit. Afraid I can’t claim drunkenness for anything outrageous I might do or say.”
Their beers were delivered, and Sarah leaned forward across the table. “I plan to have a couple of beers. So if I do or say anything outrageous, please chalk it up to the alcohol.”
Joss laughed. Sarah always made it so easy to laugh
in her presence. “You look good, Sarah,” she said. She meant it. Actually meant it more than the words could adequately convey. For three months, they’d not gone more than a few days without seeing one another. Before today, it had been two weeks, and Joss had felt every minute of it. Sarah’s absence was the stone in her boot that she couldn’t get rid of.
“You do too,” Sarah said softly, her voice warm and liquid in a momentary letting down of her guard.
“No, I don’t. I look tired.” Because I haven’t been able to sleep since you dumped me.
“You look like you work too hard. But you look…” Sarah inhaled deeply as her cheeks took on a faint pink glow, looking, Joss thought, like she was remembering one of their nights together on Sanibel. “Good.”
Joss took a sip of her beer, wishing like hell this were a real date, with the real prospect of some hot lovemaking at the end of it. But she’d take whatever she could get if it meant spending time with Sarah. “So. Tell me the good and the bad you’ve been dealing with.”
Sarah took a slow sip of her beer and watched as their waiter set their food in front of them. It smelled divine, and Joss tucked a napkin into the collar of her shirt.
“This might be messy” was her explanation to Sarah.
“Hmm, if a surgeon says it’s going to be messy, then it’s really going to be messy.”
Joss laughed and dove into a rack of ribs. “Start with the bad, so we don’t have to end on a downer.”
Sarah summed up her Christmas Eve confrontation with her father and how she’d not spoken to him since.
“That sucks, but I’m glad you did it. He needs to know how you feel. You’re not a kid, you’re an adult, and he needs to treat you like one.”
“I’m an adult now, but I wasn’t. Not when I was still accepting money from him.”
“It might take him some time, but he’ll come around, don’t you think?”
Sarah shrugged. “Linda thinks he will eventually, but I’m not so sure.”
“And you’re okay with it if he doesn’t?”
“For now. But it kind of makes me feel like an orphan.”
“Well, don’t. You can go keep my mother company since we’re not really talking to each other either.”
Sarah stopped chewing. “You’re not? But that’s, that’s…”
“Shocking?”
“I thought you two were extremely close.”
“We are. I mean, as close as two people can be without being completely honest with one another.” Joss told her about their disastrous conversation on Christmas Day and how it’d ended with a slap. “Denial is my mother’s form of Prozac.”
“Oh shit. I’m sorry, Joss.”
“Well, what the hell. I figured if I could give you advice about coming clean with your dad, I could put on my big girl pants and do the same with my mother.”
The band began setting up, but Joss barely noticed because she couldn’t keep her eyes off Sarah. She remembered how her attention only ever vaguely and briefly wandered from her when they were in a room full of dozens or sometimes hundreds of people. No matter how much effort she’d spent trying to convince herself otherwise, she knew Sarah was the sun and she was a planet that revolved around her. She’d take whatever Sarah could give her, even a superficial friendship, because it was better than nothing.
“That painting you gave to my mother. The one of me. It’s stunning, Sarah, and I don’t mean the subject. Thank you for that.”
“You’re welcome. Your mom really likes it, doesn’t she?”
“I suppose. Or she did before I pissed her off.”
“She will again. And you’re a spectacular subject to work with.”
Joss doubted that. “You have sauce on your chin,” she said, then reached over with a spare napkin and tenderly wiped it away.
Sarah’s blush made Joss tingle inside. She saw how her touch affected Sarah, and it gratified her to no end. She still cares about me.
Pointing at her glass, Sarah said to the waiter, “I’ll have another please.”
“We need some good news,” Joss said. “Please tell me you have some.”
“I do.” Sarah’s smile was contagious. “Finally. Someone wants my paintings in a big way.” She described in detail the deal with The Comfort Zone and how she was now under the gun to produce more paintings to meet her quota and to have more stock on hand in case a buyer or a gallery came calling. “And you’re a big part of it all, Joss.”
“I am?”
“I know why you wanted me to sketch you. And it did help get me back in my studio, and it gave my confidence a boost, so thank you.”
Joss clinked glasses with Sarah and congratulated her. But her smile felt chiseled in place. She was pleased for her. Of course she was. She wanted her to succeed in the worst way, because her talent and dedication deserved no less. But it wasn’t lost on her that the more Sarah succeeded, the less she needed Joss. Or at least her money.
Not that their arrangement was back on or ever would be again. Sarah had made that perfectly clear. And anyway, Joss no longer wanted Sarah to need her like that, didn’t want to be Sarah’s sugar daddy. Sugar mama, she corrected herself. Benefactor. Whatever. It was all so confusing. Whatever the hell she was or wasn’t to Sarah, she missed her, as the ache in her chest so painfully reminded her.
The band started up. They were Canadian, Sarah had explained, and they began singing about being sent down to a bone cage—some dark, dank place of punishment. Joss could relate. She settled back in her chair and nursed her warm beer. She could see Sarah’s boot tapping in time as the band next struck up a tune called “Don’t Let the Devil Get on Your Train.”
“They’re good, aren’t they?” Sarah said over the noise.
You’re good, Joss wanted to say. What she said was, “Come back to my place with me.”
In silence, Sarah studied her for a long moment. “To talk?”
“No. Not to talk.”
It was slow in coming, but when Sarah finally smiled her agreement, it was like the warm sun breaking through the clouds after a long, dark storm.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The contemporary décor of Joss’s fifth-floor condominium surprised Sarah a little. Given Joss’s mother’s old Southern home, which overflowed with nineteenth-century charm, Sarah wasn’t prepared for the sleek furniture, the recessed lighting, the textured concrete flooring, the exposed duct work. But it suited a busy professional like Joss.
“Drink?” Joss called from an open concept kitchen that shone with lots of chrome and stainless steel.
Sarah sauntered closer and leaned against the granite-countered island, trying hard to pull off a casual attitude, but her insides roiled with nervous energy. There was little sense in disguising what she was here for, what their intentions were. “What I want,” she said in a voice husky with want, “is a night with you.”
The idea of making love with Joss consumed her like a fire rampaging across a tinder-dry pasture. The only reaction from Joss was in her eyes, which turned a deep, sea green. Joss wanted her too, and Sarah didn’t wait for her to say it. She reached for her waist and pulled her into her. Their bodies came together and so did their mouths, as Sarah kissed her with a ferocity that surprised her and yet was inadequate in expressing how much she wanted Joss. She wasn’t normally like this, didn’t ever throw herself at a woman with such relentless carnal need like this. She was a freight train and Joss was the penny on her track, about to be flattened. She needed to feel Joss’s body, naked, against her own, needed to feel her skin sliding against Joss’s. She wanted the soft wetness of her mouth, her lips, raining down on her, possessing her. Yes, she decided, these things and more were exactly what she needed from Joss, and she was not to be derailed.
Joss pushed against her with her hips and planted her hands on the counter on either side of her. Sarah moved against her, pushing, locking them together, grinding against her, signaling that she wanted to be captured and conquered. Oh, God, I’m s
o wet, Sarah thought as the air rushed from her lungs. Physically, she wanted Joss even more now that they were no longer…whatever it was they were no longer a part of. She missed her. Badly.
“This doesn’t mean…” Sarah pushed out the words before they were crushed in another kiss.
“I know.”
She expected Joss to kiss her again, but she didn’t. She gazed into her eyes instead.
“What?” Sarah finally asked.
“Nothing, just savoring the moment. The way your eyes darken when you’re turned on. The way your neck and your cheeks turn pink.” She popped another button on Sarah’s blouse. “Those things don’t lie.”
No, Sarah supposed, they don’t. This was what she wanted. Absolutely. They kissed again, engaging in a spirited duel with their tongues, then separated long enough to gasp for air before joining in another searing kiss. Joss reached behind her, grasped the ends of her sweater, and began sliding it up her back. Without breaking the kiss, Sarah released the rest of the buttons on her blouse and let it float to the floor.
Joss’s mouth slid down her throat, sucking softly, leaving what Sarah pictured were tiny little imprints. Hands cupped her breasts, cradling, then squeezing firmly as though Joss were measuring their heft and shape, committing every detail to memory.
“God, I missed this,” Joss said in a voice strained with lust. “My bedroom. It’s down the hall.”
She tugged Sarah by the hand, and they practically sprinted, landing on Joss’s bed with a hard bounce. They laughed together in each other’s arms. With her touch, with her voice, with her expression, Sarah tried not to reveal anything that might give Joss the idea that this was more than simply a convenient fuck. They could ill afford to tangle up any emotions in this one-night stand. Or at least, Sarah couldn’t. She knew Joss cared for her, and judging by the way she’d looked at her when she had sketched her portrait, might even be in love with her. But if she was, it was a closely held secret, one that Joss wasn’t about to share, let alone act on. And she probably never would. No, Sarah thought, we can’t make this complicated. This doesn’t mean anything has changed.
By Mutual Consent Page 21