Just for Show

by Jae

  Claire nodded.

  They set out for their cars, which were parked some distance away. After a few steps, Lana caught up with her, wordlessly pulled one of Claire’s hands from her pocket, and laced their fingers together.

  Was Lana merely keeping up the appearance of them as a couple in love, or was she trying to hang on to their last evening together too?

  Claire had a feeling it was the latter, but maybe that was wishful thinking. With a lump in her throat, she squeezed Lana’s hand but didn’t know what to say.

  They walked the rest of the way in silence.

  Claire had no idea what the future had in store for her, but one thing she knew for sure: she’d never forget this Fourth of July.

  Chapter 21

  It was nearly midnight, and Lana was starting to feel like Cinderella. Their evening had been like a fairy tale, especially those moments at the marina, when she’d held Claire as they’d watched the fireworks.

  But now they were back home—at Claire’s house, she corrected herself—and the magic had ended, without Lana having the slightest chance of getting her Princess Charming.

  She slid off her shoes—no glass slippers—and walked barefoot down the hall.

  Claire followed silently. She lingered in front of Lana’s room instead of continuing on to her own. “I’ve got the day off tomorrow, so I’ll be home. Will I see you before you leave?”

  “Of course. Did you think I’d leave without at least saying goodbye?” It hurt that Claire even had to ask. Did she really think what they had shared had meant so little to Lana?

  “No. I just…” Claire slid her glasses higher up her nose and rubbed her eyes. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

  Lana wanted to reach out and caress her cheek so badly, but she held back, not knowing if an intimate touch like that would be welcome. “Get some sleep. I’ll come say goodbye tomorrow morning.”

  “I could help you with the boxes,” Claire said. “Or are Jill and Crash coming to help again?”

  “No, not this time.” She hadn’t yet told her friends that she was moving out because she hadn’t known how to explain.

  “Then I’ll help. I’ll even put on some jeans this time,” Claire said with a weak smile.

  “I’d appreciate it. The help, I mean.” Well, and how your ass looks in a pair of jeans, Lana added to herself.

  They stood looking at each other for a few seconds longer, then Claire said, “Good night.”

  “Night, Claire.”

  Claire trudged down the hall.

  God, she really looked tired. Or maybe sad. Lana wasn’t sure.

  She watched Claire until the door clicked shut behind her. Only then did she enter her room, where she dropped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. No way would she get any sleep tonight, so she might as well pack.

  She started with everything that was in her room, then tiptoed out into the living room and gathered her things from there.

  Damn, her stuff was all over the house! No wonder it had driven Claire crazy in the beginning. She’d never realized what a slob she was, but two months of living with Claire had changed her perspective on a lot of things.

  Maybe she would even consider looking for a therapist to finally talk about the accident once she’d settled back in at her apartment, although she doubted she could find one she would come to trust as much as she trusted Claire.

  God, she’d miss her. Lana sniffed as she carried her armful of things into her room and dropped them onto the bed.

  Something on the nightstand caught her attention.

  The ring box. She’d taken the ring off after they had returned from New York. Of course, she’d have to give it back before she left.

  The thought pierced her chest—not so much because of the piece of metal itself, although she did like the design, but more because of what it had come to represent: that Claire had listened to her, had seen her, so she had bought this unusual ring instead of a more traditional one.

  When she felt as if she couldn’t look at the ring box for a second longer without bursting into tears, she whirled around and marched to the kitchen to look for any of her stuff there. She didn’t want to leave anything behind.

  Just your heart, that annoying voice in her head commented.

  Lana bit her lip. “Oh, shut up.”

  Claire lay in bed, but sleep was far off. In the light of the full moon shining into the room, she stared at the contract on her nightstand. She had read it in detail last night, and Mercedes had called to say she’d done the same and the contract was okay to sign.

  Still, the line where Claire’s signature belonged remained empty.

  But it wasn’t really thoughts of the contract that kept her up.

  It was the quiet sounds that drifted through the closed door. Lana seemed to be “sleepless in LA” too, and she was walking around the house. Earlier, Claire had heard a suitcase click shut next door, so she knew Lana was packing.

  By tomorrow, she would be gone. It was that thought that kept Claire awake.

  With a grunt, she flicked on the lamp on the bedside table, sat up, and pulled open the top drawer to search for a pen. There was nothing she could do about Lana’s leaving, but at least she could sign the contract. Maybe that would cheer her up.

  She found three different pens and tried them out on a small notepad to see which one was nicest, not wanting to mess up this important signature by choosing the wrong pen. Once she’d decided on a pen, she flipped to the last page of the contract and stared at the two lines at the bottom.

  Claire touched the pen to the paper in the spot that said author signature.

  She had imagined this very moment a thousand times, but now that it had come, it didn’t feel the way she had imagined. While she still wanted to get her book published and in front of as many readers as possible, it didn’t fill her with an overwhelming sense of happiness and contentment.

  Not the way she’d felt wrapped in Lana’s arms at the marina earlier or strolling along the High Line with her or watching her make a mess of the kitchen.

  If she signed this contract, she’d never get to feel any of that again. Not with Lana, who’d been burned by too many people who’d lied to her—lied to themselves—about their feelings, from her mother to Katrina. Even if Claire worked up the courage to ask her to stay and Lana agreed, there would forever remain a kernel of doubt in Lana’s mind about whether Claire was really in love with her and not just with the idea of them staying together because it was better for marketing and for her reputation.

  Claire lifted the pen from the paper, then lowered it again. What if she didn’t sign the contract and Lana didn’t want her anyway? Then she’d lose both—the book deal and a chance at happiness with Lana. Wasn’t it better to play it safe and not risk failing at both? A bird in the hand was worth two in the bush, right?

  But there were other things tumbling through her mind, pushing back the pragmatic advice—scraps of conversations she’d had over the past week.

  She remembered what she’d said when she’d been asked about honesty during the radio interview: You need to be honest with yourself—about your needs and wants. Do some soul-searching. Sometimes, you think you know what you want, but it might not be what you actually need.

  Then Steph’s voice added, Happiness can’t be planned like your retirement fund, Claire. You put your heart on the line and hope for the best.

  A long, pained groan rose up Claire’s chest. She clicked off the pen and dropped it back into the drawer. Not giving herself time to think about it and reconsider, she took her cell phone from the bedside table and tapped out an email to Bridget Huge. She kept it short because she had no idea how she was supposed to explain what might turn out to be the most idiotic decision of her life.

  Dear Bridget,

  I’m really sorry to do this, especially si
nce you fought so hard to convince your team of this project, but I can’t sign the contract.

  Best regards,

  Claire Renshaw

  When the whoosh sound of her phone indicated that the message had been sent, she pressed her hand to her mouth and struggled not to hyperventilate. Oh God. I did it. I really did it. A spiraling sensation started in her belly and then crept up her chest until she felt dizzy.

  The creaking of a floorboard in the hall wrenched her from what felt like the beginnings of a panic attack—then threw her right back into it.

  Lana was still up, which meant she had to go talk to her, take a leap of faith, and put her heart on the line.

  Lana wasn’t surprised to find her stuff all over the kitchen too. The lesbian mystery novel she’d been reading was on the island, her electric milk frother was plugged in next to the coffee machine, and several of her mugs were in the cabinets, even though she’d mainly used Claire’s I’m a psychologist, not a magician mug lately.

  Amazing how entwined their lives had become in only two months.

  A noise made her turn away from the mugs.

  Claire stood in the doorway in a dark blue satin nightie with spaghetti straps that revealed her smooth, fair shoulders.

  Lana’s mouth went dry. She reached behind herself and gripped the edge of the counter. Maybe me leaving is a good thing. If I keep seeing her like this, I’ll end up doing something stupid.

  “Hey,” Lana said, her voice a bit raspy. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I couldn’t sleep and thought I’d start getting my stuff together.”

  Claire was holding on to the doorjamb with both hands the same way Lana was gripping the counter. She blinked as if her brain couldn’t process a word of what Lana had said.

  Lana took a step toward her. “Claire? Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not. I…” Claire let go of the doorjamb, took two quick steps, and gripped Lana’s shoulders instead. “Don’t go.”

  Lana swayed and squeezed her eyes shut. The words pierced her emotional shields, and she struggled to raise them back up to protect herself. “Claire… We can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep doing this. I know I said I’d be willing to stay longer if it becomes necessary for the publishing contract, but—”

  “Forget the contract,” Claire said. “I won’t sign it.”

  “What? Why wouldn’t you? You can’t… That book deal means so much to you!”

  “Yeah, but…” Claire’s grip on Lana’s shoulders tightened. “You mean more to me.”

  Now Lana was the one who had to reach out and take hold of Claire’s shoulders as the floor beneath her feet seemed to tilt. “You…you want me? For real?” The words came out in a breathless whisper. She searched the glittering gray eyes only inches from hers. “Are you sure you’re not confusing—”

  “I’m sure,” Claire said. “And I want you to be sure. I don’t want you to think for a single second that deep down I might be asking you to stay because being in a relationship would be better for my career or my self-esteem. That’s why I emailed Bridget and told her I won’t sign the contract.”

  Lana gaped at her. For a second, she wasn’t sure she was really awake and not just dreaming. Claire had thought up an elaborate scheme and was willing to pay her fifty thousand dollars to secure that book deal, and now she was giving it up—for her? For them?

  “I know I’m probably the last person you expected to spend your life with, but…will you give us a chance?” Claire was trembling, her gaze as vulnerable as Lana had ever seen it.

  Her throat choked up with emotion. Lana couldn’t answer, at least not verbally, so she threw herself into Claire’s arms instead.

  “Uff.” Claire obviously hadn’t been prepared for that.

  They staggered around the kitchen and ended up with Claire trapped between Lana’s body and the kitchen counter, deliciously pinned. Not that she appeared to mind.

  It seemed unreal for a second, like something that was too good to be true and might turn out to be an illusion. It’s real. Trust her.

  Their lips met in a long, urgent kiss. This time, neither of them held anything back. There was no audience, no pretending, no confusion, just them.

  Claire melted into her in that amazing way and threaded her fingers through Lana’s hair.

  Lana wrapped one arm around her to pull her even closer and to protect her from the edge of the counter. She smoothed her other hand over the satin of Claire’s nightie in a butterfly caress, then dipped beneath the fabric to feel the skin on her back.

  In response, Claire’s nails scraped over the nape of Lana’s neck, making her shudder.

  Her entire body transformed into a tight knot of wanting.

  Claire’s tongue stroked and caressed until Lana nearly sank onto the kitchen floor in a puddle of desire, and Claire clung to her as if her knees felt equally weak.

  Finally, they pulled back and leaned their foreheads together, both breathing heavily.

  “Is that a yes?” Claire whispered against her lips.

  “Yes,” Lana whispered back. “That’s a hell yes.”

  Claire feathered kisses all over her face, each one closer to her mouth.

  Lana’s knees did that wobbly thing again. Rather than risk this turning into something that belonged in Claire’s sex-on-the-kitchen-table chapter, she dragged her reluctant body away from Claire’s. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

  Before Lana pulled her out of the kitchen, Claire reached out and closed the cabinet door that Lana had left open after taking out her mugs.

  Chuckling, Lana led her through the hall. What a neat freak. But Claire was her neat freak now.

  As they approached the door to Lana’s room, Claire slowed her step.

  “What are you doing?” Lana asked.

  “Uh, you said you wanted to go to bed…”

  Lana stared at her. “You tell me you want me to stay, and you think I want to go to bed alone?”

  “Uh, no?”

  “Good. Because I’d really like to create some fireworks of our own, and I’d rather do that in your bigger bed.”

  Claire pulled her close and kissed her in a way that made a shudder ripple through Lana’s body, all the way down to her toes. Then she took the lead and pulled Lana to her room.

  The bed was unmade, and Claire blushed when Lana’s gaze zeroed in on it. “I was already in bed, but I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking about you leaving.”

  “I couldn’t care less about whether your bed is made or not. In fact…” Lana gently pushed Claire down on it. “Since we both have the day off tomorrow, I won’t let you out of bed long enough to make it.”

  “You won’t hear me complain.” Claire laced her fingers behind Lana’s neck and pulled her down with her.

  Lana hovered over her on her hands and knees, staring into Claire’s smoky-gray eyes. She couldn’t believe she got to make love to her again.

  “What?” Claire asked.

  “Nothing.” Lana smiled down at her. “Just feeling lucky.”

  “I’m the lucky one.” Claire smoothed her hands down Lana’s neck, over her shoulders, and then around to her collarbone. She traced the V-neck of her top with her fingertips. “Have I told you how much I like seeing you in wrap tops?”

  Heat rushed to Lana’s cheeks at the compliment. “No, you didn’t. Compliments weren’t part of the contract, I guess.”

  “Forget the contract,” Claire said firmly. “Both contracts.”

  Lana leaned down and kissed the soft skin directly below Claire’s ear. To her delight, goose bumps formed beneath her lips. “Does that mean I’m not getting my fifty thousand dollars?” she teasingly whispered into her ear.

  “Of course you will.”

  “I don’t want the money. I want you.”

  Claire, who’d just lifted up to ki
ss Lana, let her head drop down to the pillow and stared up at her. “You earned the money fair and square.”

  Lana thought about arguing, but when Claire looked at her with that intensity in her eyes, the last thing she wanted to do was talk. There’d be time for that later. Much later.

  “The way I see it, we have two options. Option one: we could stay up all night and fight about the money or…” Lana nipped Claire’s earlobe, knowing what that would do to her.

  “Option two,” Claire gasped out. “I vote for option two. Because as much as I like you in that wrap top, I like seeing you out of it even more.”

  Grinning, Lana sat up so that she was straddling Claire and pulled the wrap top over her head. Under different circumstances, she might have felt self-conscious, but the way Claire’s heated gaze roved over her left no space for insecurities. Lana dropped the top next to the bed and reached for her bra.

  Claire followed her every move with hungry eyes. As soon as the cups fell away, she trailed her fingertips over the outer curve of Lana’s breasts as if admiring a work of art. She sat up beneath Lana, taking hold of Lana’s hips with both hands so she wouldn’t accidentally buck her off.

  Lana took the opportunity to pull the satin nightie up over Claire’s head. For several seconds, she sat still and admired Claire’s fair skin and her firm breasts. “So beautiful.”

  Then Claire lowered her head so she could worship one of Lana’s breasts with her mouth.

  A jolt of sensation went directly from Lana’s nipple to her clit. Her hips surged against Claire’s belly.

  They both groaned.

  Every thread of fabric between them became unbearable. When Claire lifted her mouth from her nipple, Lana rolled off the bed and struggled out of her capris and her underwear with trembling hands.

  Claire slid down her own panties, folded them, then reached for her nightie that had been tossed on the bed, probably to fold it too.

  Lana watched her with an affectionate smile but didn’t let her finish. She pressed her back to the bed, sank on top of her, and captured her lips in a passionate kiss.