She glanced down the road then pulled out to pass a camper.
She recalled listening to Dusty, hearing tales of the lady du jour, the thrill of not knowing where something or someone might lead. She’d felt that disturbance in contrast to Dusty’s excitement. What exactly was it? Sadness? Regret? She let it begin to wriggle its way to the surface, allowed it to swell within her. It grew stronger, intensified, and finally crested. She realized it was envy. Or maybe even worse—maybe envy and loss combined. Her chest constricted.
Addison had never had the kind of experiences that constituted Dusty’s life. At eighteen, she’d started a six-year relationship with Donna, her college girlfriend and her only ex. Then she’d quickly fallen uncontrollably in love with Maggie. She’d never had the wildness, the freedom, the fun of single life.
She accelerated to make it through a yellow light.
How could she be thinking this way? She didn’t want those things, or at least she never had. She wanted a home, a life filled with love and commitment, someone with whom to grow old. She wanted Maggie, the woman who knew her so well that she knew every one of Addison’s faults and shortcomings, who loved her so deeply that she accepted them all. At least, that’s the way she’d always felt before. Recently, however, those things seemed almost stifling, suffocating. She was beginning to realize a part of her felt trapped.
Addison shook her head. I’ve got to get control of myself, of whatever this is. It’s ridiculous. Some woman—one woman—hits on me in a gas station, and I’m imagining myself as Dusty, or at least heading in that direction. It was merely a compliment and should only be taken as one. It simply meant she was still attractive.
What about what Dusty had said, though? You get back what you put out. Addison shifted uncomfortably. That’d been a while ago, and it was just chitchat over coffee. What did Dusty know, anyway? She’d never had a serious relationship in her life.
Addison rolled her shoulders and relegated the entire matter back to the deep recesses of her consciousness. She slowed to a stop at Van Nuys Boulevard and waited for the signal to change. It was time to start concentrating on real life, not some inane encounter with a redheaded waitress. She glanced around the congested street heading into Sherman Oaks and began to relax into the familiarity of daily routine. Yes, routine. That’s what she wanted. That’s what she loved. Of course.
She passed the row of seedy, one-story shops and businesses that greeted her each morning on her way to work—a tattoo parlor, a used clothing store, a record shop with a video rental branch across the street. The marquee of what once had been a neighborhood theater stood tall and garish, but now, instead of spelling out the titles of movies, it read, The Gap. What once had been the box office held an array of modern fashions.
All these sights soothed her, reminded her that her life was intact. As reality returned, Addison began to see the humor in the experience of the last half-hour. She must be losing her mind—or it could be early menopause, maybe? Whatever it’d been, she felt silly. The best she could do was leave it behind her and be grateful no one had been around to witness her idiocy.
Finally, Addison steered the Explorer into the underground parking garage of the eleven-story structure that housed the Milton and Ryan Advertising Agency where she’d worked for the past nine years. She maneuvered into her assigned slot. She recognized how much of her life was set, how strongly she could depend upon certain aspects—a parking spot, a paycheck, the love of her beautiful Maggie. She smiled and headed for the elevator.
The building was fairly new and from the outside looked like nothing more than a glass box, but the suite of offices that the agency leased on the top floor marked them as the up-and-coming advertising firm that they were. The elevator doors opened into a plush reception area with rich burgundy carpet and finely textured walls that offered abstract patterns of swirls and twists. Three clusters of comfortable chairs dotted the large room, and a floor-to-ceiling fish aquarium acted as a divider between the reception desk and the small maze of offices and conference rooms behind it.
It always felt a bit odd to Addison when she came in on weekends in casual attire. During normal work hours, jeans, even if they were white, and a football jersey would be grounds for a reprimand, but Michael had said the client today was pretty laid-back, concerned more with what the agency could do for her than what they looked like on a Saturday afternoon.
She rounded the end of the enormous aquarium and raised her hand to tap her usual salutation to the large, colorful fish that swam languidly back and forth in their quiet world. Today, though, she hesitated and pressed her fingertips to the glass. She envied them the serenity of their existence—nothing to prove, nothing to figure out, nothing to lose. Voices drifted to her from down the hall, comfortable laughter, then a pause. Michael and his client must have finished lunch and returned to the office early.
Evidently the client owned a restaurant up in the Bay Area, one that had become quite successful over the course of the past several years. She was now opening a second somewhere in Studio City, and she’d hired Milton and Ryan to put together an extensive advertising campaign on the recommendation of one of their satisfied clients. Although her establishments didn’t cater exclusively to the gay and lesbian community, she had specifically asked for a portion of the strategy to be focused there.
Addison stepped into the doorway of Michael Helton’s office.
“Ah, there she is,” he said, smiling at her from behind his desk. His cherubic features and the slight cowlick that was never fully controlled at the crown of his blond head always reminded her of the first of several broken-hearted little boys in her distant past. “Addison Rae-McInnis, Victoria Fontaine. Victoria, Addison.” He motioned to a young woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties seated in a white upholstered swivel chair in front of him.
She rose and extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Addison. Michael speaks highly of you.”
She stood about an inch shorter than Addison, and her dark blond, mid-length hair accentuated her gold-rimmed brown eyes. A silk fuchsia blouse and pair of navy Guess jeans amply emphasized her body’s natural attributes—seductively subtle cleavage and shapely hips and legs. Diamond-cut gold earrings glinted against the soft wave of her hair.
Addison laughed. “He has to. I do his evaluations.” She shot a quick glance in his direction. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.” She shook Victoria’s hand.
Victoria’s grip was firm, confident. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I’m glad to see that kind of playfulness between you two. It’s been my experience in my own business that when people play well together they also work well together.” Her words and manner belied her obviously youthful years.
Addison wondered if Victoria was actually older than she looked, in order to be opening a second restaurant of her own. “We certainly do both around here,” she said with a grin, remembering Michael’s jig on the table at last year’s Christmas party. “And I have no doubt that we’ll be able to give you everything you’re looking for.” She lowered herself into the other swivel chair and settled in for discussion.
Victoria reclaimed her own seat and smiled. “Everything I’m looking for? I have to say, that’s the best news I’ve heard in a very long time.”
Addison thought she detected a hint of innuendo in Victoria’s tone then immediately dismissed it. She wasn’t going there again. This was her job. This woman wanted a professional service. She wasn’t the redhead in the gas station. Hell, she wasn’t Maggie. She was a client. “Let’s get started and see what we can do. From what Michael’s told me, I’m assuming you and he already have a general outline on the main portion of your campaign?”
“Definitely. He’s drawn up some great ideas.”
“Will you be using the same ads in both the mainstream and the gay markets?”
“Yes, I think what Michael has put together will cover both areas. Mostly what I want in the gay and lesbian community is visib
ility. I just want to get the word out that everyone is welcome at Fontaine’s. We need more places where we can have romantic dinners, celebrate anniversaries—just be ourselves.”
Addison nodded. “And my part in this is to give some ideas on where to advertise, right?”
“Right,” Michael said. “Newspapers, publications, radio stations. I know about The Pink Pages, of course, but we’re looking for some of the less obvious places to advertise that’ll really get Fontaine’s embedded in the community’s mind.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard. I could probably pull together a pretty thorough list by the end of the week.” Addison glanced at Victoria and caught her gaze moving back up from Addison’s body. “Would that be soon enough?”
“Certainly,” she said without missing a beat. “We’re just now beginning the renovations on the building. We’re still several months away from opening.”
“Great. I’ll get going on it so you’re sure to have it when you need it. It really won’t take me much time at all.”
“That’d be fantastic,” Michael said, his tone holding an obvious edge of finality. “I really appreciate you coming in today, Addison. I wanted you and Victoria to meet before I leave for the conference in New York. In fact, I need to get out of here and start packing. I’m flying out tomorrow.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. You try not to have too much fun while you’re out there. It’s supposed to be work, you know?”
Michael straightened and saluted. “Absolutely not. No fun whatsoever.”
Addison chuckled and rose. She turned to Victoria. “If you need anything while Michael’s out of town, feel free to give me a call. I’d be happy to fill in for him.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate that.” Victoria retrieved a purse from beside her chair. “I’d better get going, too, and let you two get on with your day. Addison, it was truly a pleasure meeting you. I look forward to seeing you again.”
“Same here.”
They shook hands once more, and Addison said her good-byes to both of them. She entered her own office a few doors down the hallway and crossed to the row of windows that provided an impressive view of the skyscrapers of Encino, but she barely took notice of them.
Instead, she remained focused on Victoria Fontaine and the allure that seemed to smolder just beneath her surface, on the redhead who’d been much more direct but whose interest seemed to be the same, on Dusty’s words, and on her own confusion. Maybe she just needed sex. She and Maggie hadn’t made love in a while, not since…When was it? Other things—work, friends, social obligations—all seemed to get in the way too damned often. That’s all this was. She needed to connect with Maggie, feel her close. They could have a quiet evening tonight.
She’d stop and pick up Chinese food on her way home—Maggie’s favorite. They could retreat to their room, have a picnic in bed, maybe watch a movie. After all, isn’t that why they’d added the third floor, so they’d have a sanctuary in a house full of renters? Then she’d make love to Maggie like she hadn’t in a long time, slowly, passionately, with all the desire she felt for her.
A light knock sounded behind her.
She turned to face Victoria Fontaine.
“Hello again.” Victoria’s voice was softer than it’d been earlier. “I’m sorry to bother you.”
“It’s no bother. What can I do for you?”
“I was just wondering,” she said, crossing to where Addison stood. “I really don’t know anyone here all that well, but I’d like to get out and see some of the hotspots. You know, maybe a couple of the more popular lesbian bars. The nightlife? I’m starting to go nuts in the evenings.” She laughed. Her demeanor was easy, relaxed.
“Oh, sure, I can give you the names of some places.”
Victoria fixed a warm gaze on Addison. “I was hoping more for an escort. Someone to show me around.”
Addison fell into the depths of Victoria’s eyes. They enticed. They suggested. Hope seemed to linger in their cast. She could imagine staring into them on a dance floor as she held her close.
Victoria? On the dance floor? She forced her mind away from such thoughts. Didn’t she mean Maggie? Why wasn’t it Maggie she saw herself embracing to the music? What was happening?
Taking Victoria out on the town was a job much better suited for someone like Dusty, but for some reason, she couldn’t imagine introducing this woman to Dusty. If all she wanted was some company, what was the harm in that? “Oh. Well, yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem. I could show you around.” She recalled Brenda’s advice. “Or, we. We could show you around.”
Amusement shaped Victoria’s expression, and she glanced down at the picture of Maggie and Addison on the desk. “Is this your partner?”
“Mm-hm. Maggie.”
Victoria trailed a finger across the top of the silver frame and studied the photo. “It’s a great picture of you. You look very sexy.”
Addison had always loved the photograph, but more for Maggie’s likeness than her own—the warmth in her expression, the joy in her eyes, her vibrant smile that seemed to reach out and touch anyone who cared to notice. Victoria, however, didn’t. All she appeared to see was Addison. “Thanks,” she said, omitting the rest of her thoughts. It was enough that Victoria knew about Maggie.
“Michael said you and Maggie have been together for a long time.”
Addison frowned slightly, wondering why her personal life had come up in the conversation at all. “Twelve years. What about you? Anyone special?”
“I know a lot of special people, but no one in particular.” Victoria leaned a hip against the edge of the desk. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because I work too much. There never seem to be enough hours in the day.”
“No kidding. Even when you have a relationship, sometimes it gets pushed aside by other priorities.”
“How have you done it? Twelve years is so long.”
Addison thought for a moment. It hadn’t seemed that difficult. “Love and commitment, I guess.” She felt a little foolish with such a trite answer, but she couldn’t think of another one.
Victoria gave no response. She eased forward slightly and watched Addison as if waiting for more. The angle provided a perfect view of the swell of a breast just beneath the silk fabric of her blouse. It seemed too casual to be deliberate, and yet Victoria watched her with intensity.
Addison realized the boldness of her own stare. She felt the heat rise in her body.
“That’s it?” Victoria’s words broke her trance.
“What?”
“Love and commitment? That’s the answer?”
“Uh…” Oh, yeah, Maggie. Twelve years. “It’s the only one I have. And maybe some luck.” Addison struggled to regain her focus.
“What about trust?”
Addison shoved her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. A twinge of uneasiness tightened her stomach. She could guess where this was going. “Of course, trust too.”
“Have you ever violated that trust?” Victoria’s delivery sounded pensive, as though she were searching for something, but her eyes displayed knowledge beyond her apparent years.
This woman is dangerous. Addison sensed it throughout her entire body, throughout her entire being. She made Brenda look like a fairy princess. Was this whole day some kind of test? Was she supposed to prove her love for Maggie all of a sudden? Prove it to whom? The powers that be? Herself? You get back what you put out. But she hadn’t known Victoria long enough to put out anything yet. “No, I’ve never violated that trust.” She answered the question more to escape her own confusion than to continue the conversation.
“I admire that.” Victoria smiled. “Someday I hope I can find a relationship like yours. I think it’s very rare.”
Addison blinked. It was hardly the response she’d expected from a woman who seemed to have a totally different direction in mind.
Victoria picked up a paper clip and twirled it between her fingers. She flashed a sincere smile, with no tr
ace of the devious look that Addison had thought she’d seen.
“Well, I really do have to get going. I’m catching a flight up to the Bay Area later this afternoon. I have to touch base with my manager up there, but I’ll be back Monday. Maybe you, Maggie, and I can get together next week?”
“Oh, okay. That sounds good.” Relief mingled with disappointment. Had Addison imagined everything—the suggestive tone, the leading questions? Did this attractive, younger woman not find her interesting? This was how it should be, though—Victoria, the client, being entertained by Addison, the account executive, and her lovely partner, Maggie.
“Thanks again for everything,” Victoria said as she strode toward the door. “I’ll give you a call at the beginning of the week.”
“And I’ll check with Maggie on her schedule so we can set something up.”
Victoria smiled and disappeared around the corner.
Addison released an exasperated sigh. What the hell was happening to her? Was she going insane? It must’ve been all those ridiculous thoughts she’d allowed herself to entertain on the way over here. Maybe all of this was a test. Maybe it was a sign. Of what, though? That she needed a therapist? That she needed to be spending more time with Maggie?
Whatever it was, she knew it was her own stuff and only hers. She had to leave Victoria Fontaine out of it, along with any other poor, unsuspecting female who happened to cross her path.
Chapter Four
Tess Rossini stared at the open message box on her computer screen.
The cursor blinked back at her, silently screaming its demand for her response.
The e-mail system that the university had set up to enable more direct communication between the students and professors provided some wonderful benefits from an academic stance. It allowed for clarification of assignments and more in-depth questions on lecture points and permitted those pupils with a deeper interest in a subject to inquire about additional resources, but it also had a tendency to boost the courage of some and give them that little bit of anonymity they needed in order to approach her on a more personal level.
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