by Tina Michele
Barbara looked at Jim, who still struggled to appear reserved and not give away that he just witnessed Carson’s attempt to leap into Barbara’s arms at the invitation. He hoped that Bree didn’t have the exact opposite reaction when they both showed up for her test. He hesitated to accept the request, but in the end decided against his better judgment. “Okay. I’m sure she won’t mind at all.”
“Sweet. I’m gonna go get ready…I mean go let Beth know where I’ll be in case they need me. I’m sure they won’t. Cool. See you in a few.” Carson bolted toward the Billiard Room through the door marked “Staff Only.”
Barbara looked back at Jim with a knowing smile on her face, to which he responded with a shrug. “What?”
“Cute. Just make sure it doesn’t distract Bree from her test.” She stroked his arm and walked away.
*
Bree stood in front of the bathroom mirror and adjusted her blouse. She looked at her reflection and took a long, calming breath. She had no idea why she was so worked up about the tour. She knew more about the entire estate than even the experienced guide they’d partnered her with the week before. While Jennifer was knowledgeable and proficient in the fundamentals of the house, she lacked the familiarity and the fondness for the nuances that made Biltmore an extraordinary piece of history.
One of the reasons why Bree enjoyed guided tours was the feeling of being treated to something special. She wanted something above and beyond what she could get from renting an audio guide or opting for a self-guided approach. So for Bree, offering what seemed liked hidden secrets or lesser known facts gave her audience a more personal and tailored experience. It was when she strayed from the studied statistics that she questioned her preparedness. Personal experiences and stories were more prone to be misinterpreted or misrepresented and therefore caused her to second-guess her strategy for the mock tour.
Bree glanced at her watch. There was no more time to worry. The tour started in five minutes, and she was either ready or she wasn’t. In the end, she knew the facts, and while it was not her particular style, if she relied strictly on those facts she would get through the test without fail.
Two groups congregated just outside the main entry as several anxious individuals crowded around Barbara. Bree recognized them as her fellow trainees who no doubt harassed Barbara with last-minute questions about what they should expect over the three or more hours to follow. As Bree headed over she glanced toward the second group of people. She recognized more than a handful of Biltmore staff, including her uncle. She smiled. She was just about to call his name when another voice beat her to it. Bree’s stomach leapt into her throat and the blood rushed in her ears the moment she spotted Carson, who walked toward Jim and the rest of the group. “You’ve got to be kidding m—” Her body came to a crashing halt as she collided with a brick wall.
It wasn’t until he reached down to pick her up off the ground that Bree noticed the “wall” was in fact her friend Alan, a six-foot-four mass of muscle. He scooped his hand under her arm, and she struggled to her feet as she prayed that no one saw what happened. Once she got to her feet, a quick inventory of eyes revealed that everyone around her watched as she dusted the dirt and debris from her butt. To her dismay, those eyes included both her uncle’s and Carson’s. “Just freaking fantastic,” Bree mumbled to herself.
Bree was relieved when Barbara took the break in everyone’s attention to announce the commencement of the mock tour test. She brought both groups together and explained the process. The trainees and the group would make their way through the entire estate. They would stop in every room and area that was included in the tours available to guests. Once in the room, Barbara would randomly select one of the student guides to give a brief lecture on that room. The details of their lectures were required to include facts about the furniture, history, décor, and any significant information that might be of interest to the visitors. Just as in real time, each dissertation would conclude with an opportunity for the guests to ask questions.
Barbara scanned the group for her first victim. As her eyes perused each of them, Bree reviewed everything she knew about the exterior of the Biltmore property. The dull throb in her backside and Carson’s unexpected presence had her scatterbrained. Bree was grateful when Barbara chose the brick wall, Alan, as first up.
Bree didn’t even have to see her to know that Carson’s gaze was focused on her. The heat from her steel blue gaze proved to be a far greater distraction than her sore bottom. The group wandered through the first-floor rooms. They followed the self-guided tour map. Bree had hoped to be selected for the library, but she had no way to predict which areas Barbara would combine or how random her guide choices were. When they reached the Tapestry Gallery, it was Bree whom Barbara chose.
Bree didn’t mind. She enjoyed the room, most of all the tapestries. The first time Bree ever came to Biltmore, her uncle introduced her to a group of conservators that had just begun work on a multiyear project to restore and preserve the sixteenth-century Flemish textile works. Bree remembered that she had been unimpressed by the concept until she saw the great care and precision that went into the protection of the tapestries.
As expected, Bree listed off various facts and figures about the ninety-foot long Tapestry Gallery and the portraits by John Singer Sargent and Boldini. As Bree described the original pieces purchased by George Vanderbilt in 1887 during a trip to France, she watched the glossy looks of boredom that crept over the eyes of her audience. Even the most dedicated amateur historian could absorb just so much impersonal data. Even her uncle looked as if he was a wild animal trapped in a cage too small. Bree had both seen it and felt it before. When the guests got bored, they lost focus and the guide lost control. Bree decided to take a different approach.
“When I was a child, my uncle brought me here to the Biltmore. I got the super-secret, behind the scenes tour because this is where he worked.” Bree looked at her uncle with great fondness. “I was nine and the technicians were mere weeks into what would become a five-year endeavor to restore and preserve these tapestries.” Bree told her story and interlaced facts and memories that included how they custom-built an eighteen- by twenty-five-foot wash bath in order to hand scrub and clean the pieces. All eyes were on her, including those of her fellow trainees; each person seemed to be as enthralled in her memory as she was, including Carson.
Bree stared at her. She was unable to look away from the deep and penetrating gaze. She was paralyzed and felt as if her entire body was on fire. Bree didn’t realize she had stopped speaking until Barbara asked if anyone had any questions. Barbara’s interruption allowed Bree to break free from Carson’s hypnotic stare. “Yes. Questions? Anyone?” Bree coaxed. When Carson appeared to make a move to raise her hand, Bree was saved by Barbara’s announcement that they were ready to move on. She used the distraction as her opportunity to escape. Bree shuffled between her classmates and through the doorway ahead of the group, out of range of Carson’s searing eyes.
Chapter Eleven
Three hours after they’d begun, the group and its guides approached the end of the testing. Bree’s legs had begun to scream from the constant standing and swaying she’d done for the last few hours. She felt very good about her performance, but the one takeaway was the need to work on leg stamina. Bree had spent the final forty-five minutes staring at each bench, chair, or even protective railing as a place to lean her ass against, even if just for a second. Of course she never did, and it had become the only thought in her mind.
After the last trainee finished his presentation, no one offered any questions. It was clear that everyone was ready to be dismissed for lunch. Much to everyone’s obvious relief, Barbara announced the conclusion of the examination. She advised them to meet back in an hour, and the group dematerialized. This left Bree, Barbara, Uncle Jim, and Carson, who stood like random chess pieces scattered on a board. Barbara and Jim conversed with each other while Bree and Carson stood in awkward silence, desperate not to make
eye contact.
At least that was Bree’s intention. Carson seemed far more confident in her decision to stay planted in one spot and was determined not to shy away if Bree’s eyes met hers. Bree refused to allow herself to look into Carson’s eyes. They seared through into her soul, and Bree felt exposed and out of control. Her entire body burned under Carson’s unabashed gaze.
Just before her legs turned to ash and crumbled beneath her, Jim called her name. “Thank God.” She looked in his direction as he and Barbara approached her. Bree’s legs tingled. Even if she had been certain that the sensation was due to the countless miles she’d walked, she didn’t disregard the effect Carson was having on the solidity of her legs. She feared that if she was unable to sit soon, she would topple over.
For weeks, Bree had attempted to overcome the awkwardness from the forklift incident, and there was no way in hell she would let Carson rescue her if her legs gave out. Bree took another look in Carson’s direction and she still had not moved an inch. She continued to stare at Bree with an expression she could only have described as ravenous. Before she could do anything to prevent it, Bree’s face burned red. “Shit.”
“What was that?” her uncle asked as he stopped in front of her.
“What? Oh nothing. My legs are killing me. I need to sit down somewhere.”
“Why don’t we go get some lunch, and we can all sit down?” Barbara offered.
“That sounds great,” Jim said. “How’s that sound to you, Car?” He looked back over his shoulder to where Carson still stood.
Bree’s stomach leapt into her throat. “Oh, I’m sure she needs to get back to work,” she said in a definitive tone.
They looked at Carson and waited for her answer. Carson looked from Barbara to Jim and then to Bree. She raised an eyebrow and smiled wryly. “Nope. I’m very much available…for lunch.”
“Great,” Jim said.
“Yeah, great,” Bree mumbled as they all turned in the direction of the Library Lounge restaurant.
Barbara and Jim chatted about a random newspaper article they’d both read earlier that day. Bree couldn’t even string coherent syllables together with Carson just a few feet behind her. She didn’t even need to turn around to know just how close Carson was. Bree heard her deep and steady breaths, but she also felt Carson’s eyes as they traveled over every inch of her body. Bree wanted to break out into a run ahead of them, but her legs wouldn’t comply.
She closed her eyes and considered making an abrupt stop so that Carson’s body would collide with hers. Bree wondered how the arcs of Carson’s breasts and stomach would feel pressed against the curves of her back. When a sudden pain shot through her foot, her eyes flew open. “Shit.” Bree extended her arms out in front of her as she prepared for impact, but her forward motion was stopped, and she hovered almost magically above the floor in front of her. Then, in an instant, she was spun around and pulled up against Carson’s chest without a breath of air between them.
Bree couldn’t move. She stared into Carson’s smoldering eyes and prayed that she didn’t let her go because she would have ended up in a heap of goo on the tile. Bree squeezed the flexed shoulders that held her securely upright. They were tight and so steady. With lust burning in her eyes, Carson smiled at Bree who snapped out of her trance and thrust herself out of Carson’s arms. Her legs supported her, and for that she was grateful.
Bree was flooded with emotion. She was aroused, embarrassed, and remorseful. What are you doing? Why are you having such a hard time staying on your feet around this woman? Bree recalled the first time she’d seen Marion and how she had made a fool out of herself in front of her as well. The difference was that she couldn’t remember having been quite as aroused as she was with Carson.
Bree felt a twinge of guilt that she was reacting in such a powerful way toward someone else for the first time since Marion. She couldn’t remember the last time that she even looked at another woman, let alone found herself on the edge of a burning attraction. She knew that she would never love another woman the way she loved Marion, so she had no idea why she was getting herself all worked up over this one. And in the back of her mind she still held on to the tiniest fleck of hope that Marion would find her and come home.
Bree’s self-flogging was interrupted when she witnessed something unexpected. Her uncle brushed his hand over the small of Barbara’s back as they proceeded through the doorway. Never in her life had she seen him make any sort of romantic or flirtatious gesture toward another woman. All of a sudden, she was so full of hope that she felt as if she floated above the floor. It was a sign she’d never expected, but one that was too hard to ignore.
Before they were even seated, Bree anticipated the awkward and strained conversation. She expected to spend an hour staring into her water glass while she prayed for the powers that be to either save her, kill her, or both. Yet that wasn’t the case, not at all. To Bree’s complete surprise, lunch proved to be much more interesting than she had expected. They laughed and joked, and at one point Bree even tolerated the group’s playful teasing over her collision with Alan’s back. Although afterward, Bree joked and demanded that the incident be stricken from everyone’s future comedic repertoire, at least until the bruise on her ass went away.
Bree watched how Carson interacted with her uncle. Their friendship was so easy. It was obvious that they were very close, quite similar to the way Bree and Jim had always been. Bree figured out why he had wanted his girls to get along. Bree could see that she and Carson had very much in common and were rather compatible. In a strictly platonic sort of way, of course. “Like sisters.” It hadn’t been her intention to say the last part out loud.
“You like sisters?” Carson said with a wink. “I’m not sure how that relates to the recent discovery of a new species of snapping turtle, but it’s good to know.”
“That’s not what I meant. I was just observing our similarities, if you must know. And I concluded that we’re like sisters.” Bree didn’t see the point in denying what she had said. Plus she lacked the quick wit she needed to save herself.
“Sisters?” It was obvious that Carson expected further explanation.
“Well, yeah, I guess. You and I have a lot in common it seems, and of course it takes a special kind of person to deal with him.” Bree gestured across the table toward Jim.
“I can agree with the last part, but it’s the first part I want to hear more about.” Carson leaned in closer and raised an eyebrow at Bree.
Bree felt her stomach cartwheel. Carson’s Caribbean blue eyes sparkled with curiosity and desire. “I, well, I don’t know offhand.” Bree scoured her mind for anything except for the one discernible thought about how close Carson’s body was to hers.
“I’ll just let you think about it. Let me know what you come up with.” Carson sat back in her seat but didn’t take her eyes off Bree’s.
Bree could’ve kissed the waiter when he appeared out of nowhere and broke the spell Carson had cast upon her. Once they were all engrossed in their desserts, the tension disappeared, and they resumed their comfortable familiarity.
*
Carson loved to watch Bree’s mouth move. When Carson thought about it, there wasn’t anything that Bree did that Carson didn’t like. She’d grown to adore the more questionable moments they’d shared, including the one on the sidewalk in front of her warehouse on that memorable day. They finished up their lunch, and Carson found that she wished to spend the rest of the day at the table. She knew it was impractical, yet she was still disappointed when they got up and left the restaurant.
The four of them stood in the hallway and said their polite good-byes with hugs and handshakes. When Bree reached out for her hand, Carson hesitated. Her reason was twofold. For the most part it was because she wasn’t ready to say farewell, but also because Carson wasn’t sure what would happen when they touched. Carson grabbed Bree’s hand; a simple handshake felt too impersonal, but swooping her into a kiss was quite the opposite. Instead, Ca
rson ignored the sirens that blared in her head and brought Bree’s hand up to her mouth.
She leaned down and brushed her lips against Bree’s soft hand. She locked her eyes with Bree’s. Carson watched as Bree’s lips parted slightly, and she heard a sharp intake of breath. As Carson’s lips touched Bree’s hand, she smelled the enticing aroma of crisp perfume and wondered if the rest of Bree smelled just as delicious. She knew it did. She stood and lowered Bree’s hand. Carson smiled. “Thank you.”
Bree just stared at her with her beautiful face flushed pink. Carson felt Jim’s hand on her arm. When that failed to draw her attention away, he squeezed. The unexpected and crushing handgrip caused her to look over at him. He nodded in the direction behind them. It was a clear signal that meant it was time to return to work or at least to stop manhandling his daughter. Carson smiled again. “It was my pleasure, Ms. Whitley. I hope we can do this again soon.”
Barbara also interjected. “Okay. Thank you for lunch, you two. We really should be getting back to the group. It wouldn’t look very good for the teacher and her prize pupil to both be late.” She winked at Jim and tapped Bree on her arm. After they turned and walked away, Carson followed after Jim in the opposite direction.
“What the hell was that, Carson Harper?” Jim grumbled to Carson as they headed down the hallway.
“What was what?” Carson’s response may have been nonchalant, but she knew exactly what he had meant.
“You know what. I’m talking about the eye contact and the flirty smiles and the…hand kissing. Is this 1945? Do people even do that anymore?”
“I don’t know what people do. But I thought it was a perfect thing for me to do at that moment.” Carson looked at him. She didn’t even attempt to hold back the excitement that consumed her inside and out. She raised her eyebrows, and the smile disappeared.