About Face

by V. K. Powell

  “I just like seeing this side of you. It’s very attractive. You should show it more often.”

  She flashed back to the exchanges they’d had and realized she’d been in avoid-and-deflect mode since Leigh arrived. “I haven’t exactly been the most helpful and welcoming landlord, have I?”

  “You’re enjoying the solitude of this fantastic place…and protecting yourself.”

  Leigh’s green eyes bored into her and she felt exposed. “What do you mean?” Her chest ached like someone had suddenly pressed a weight there. Leigh had scratched her tender underbelly, the part no one was allowed to touch. She pulled her sweater tighter and leaned back on the sofa.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve made you uncomfortable.” Leigh gently took her hand and entwined their fingers just as she had when they admired her paintings. The sensation was just as strong, the combination of light, color, and texture. Closing her eyes, she breathed it in—rich, bold, and soothing. When she looked up, Leigh was staring at their joined hands.

  “It’s just…I’m not…how do you know…”

  “You seem sad…almost wounded, like you’ve lost something precious.” She traced the jagged scar on Macy’s wrist with the tip of her finger, her eyes full of apology for dredging up the pain. “Have you lost someone? Is that what this is about?”

  The simple questions were like arrows to her heart, summoning the grief and unleashing the emotion trapped for so long. For the first time in years, she wanted to purge, to open the box where all the loss for Jesse lived and set it free. Tears burned her eyes and she struggled to contain them. “I…can’t…”

  “It’s okay.” Leigh pulled her close and cradled her head against her shoulder. “You don’t have to say anything.”

  When Leigh wrapped her arms around her, she wanted the pain to stop but sensed the only relief for such deep sorrow was more time and tears. She clung to Leigh, uncertain why but positive she had to, as sunlight drained from the room. The silence between them occasionally cracked as she breathed a deep sigh or shifted against Leigh’s chest to listen to the comforting beat of her heart.

  “You’re safe.” Leigh’s words were almost a whisper, soothing in their sincerity.

  She’d never allowed anyone close enough to comfort her, perhaps because she didn’t deserve to be comforted. Her pain and a single toothed scar seemed just punishment for losing her best friend on what should’ve been a simple night out. How did Leigh know what she needed? It was as if she opened her heart and saw the image of Jesse filling every space.

  As Leigh held her, rocking back and forth, whispering reassurances, Macy imagined how loved and protected Hedy must’ve felt when they were children. Leigh oozed affection and compassion, and it soaked into the raw places in her soul. She wanted to tell Leigh about Jesse, but she didn’t have the courage, the strength to relive it.

  “Why are you so nice? I’ve been horrible to you.” Her voice was almost inaudible and timid with uncertainty.

  “Because I’m a nice person and I really like you. I have since the minute we met and you threatened not to rent to me after only two seconds. Maybe I’m a hopeless romantic.”

  “Or maybe you’re just a sucker for lost causes.”

  When Leigh looked into her eyes, Macy was drawn toward her like Earth in the sun’s gravitational force. Only a breath away from Leigh’s parted lips, she licked hers, whether from anxiety or desire, she wasn’t sure. She’d never wanted to kiss anyone so badly, to taste her. “Oh, God.”

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to crowd you,” Leigh said, and started to pull away.

  She caged Leigh so quickly and so closely she could barely breathe and, without allowing herself time to think, kissed her.

  “Macy?”

  “I want this.” She’d barely spoken the words when Leigh teased her lips with the tip of her tongue. Heat scorched through her like a wildfire in the dry season. Leigh’s lips closed over hers and she fell into a vat of liquid velvet, softness inside and out. She opened her mouth and Leigh’s delicate tongue strokes claimed her, sparking desire in her core. “Umm.” Her response released a flood, an urge to wrap Leigh between her legs and ride her until she collapsed. “Yes.”

  Leigh caressed the side of her face with such tenderness that she leaned into it like a purring kitten. Leigh’s hand skimmed over her shoulder and down, coming to rest in the small of her back—a touch so gentle and possessive. How she craved this woman’s touch, like a drug to her starved system. Her clit throbbed with an ache so powerful she’d almost forgotten such passion existed.

  She hadn’t needed anyone in so long—not physically and certainly not emotionally—the possibility was immediately sobering. She stopped with her lips a breath away from another scorching kiss. “Stop. Stop!”

  “What? Did I do something wrong?”

  Macy stood and moved away from Leigh, not trusting herself in arm’s reach. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know where that came from. It’s just…you’re so…I’m really sorry.”

  Leigh’s gaze, hungry and pleading, followed her as she paced. “I’m the one who should apologize. You were upset and I took advantage of your vulnerability.”

  “What? No, no, you didn’t. It was my fault. I can’t really explain.”

  “Why do you need to? We’re attracted to each other. Isn’t that enough?”

  If only it was. How did Leigh manage to boil everything down to the simplest terms? “Not for me. I had no right to kiss you…or to lead you on.”

  “I’m not complaining.”

  Leigh reached for her, but she moved away, afraid that if they touched again the same thing, or something more, might happen. “Maybe you better go.”

  “I’m sorry if I upset you, but I’m not sorry about the kiss. I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.” She retrieved her jacket, slung it over her shoulder, and walked toward the door. “Thank you for talking to me. I know that wasn’t easy.”

  “Leigh, wait.” She was desperate to keep Leigh close but had no valid reason beyond the desire threatening to consume her. She glanced around the room, searching for an excuse. “I…” Her gaze fell on the painting they’d admired together, and she took it off the wall. “I want you to have this, for the apartment. I painted it from the balcony, so it sort of belongs there.”

  “Are you sure?” She nodded. “I know just the spot. Thanks. Does this mean you’re not kicking me out?”

  “Not yet…and don’t worry about what happened. I wanted that kiss as much as you did. I’m just not ready to deal with what it means. Now, if I could get you to stop exposing yourself on the dock, you’d be a perfect tenant. After what just happened, I understand how you must’ve felt that night when you left—makes us sort of even.”

  “I’ll work on my exhibitionism, if you’ll stop being so damn tempting. But remember, well-behaved women seldom make history.”

  “Jeez, you and your bumper stickers. I don’t want to make history, Monroe. I just want to live a full, honest life.” As she closed the door behind Leigh, she realized she hadn’t spoken truer words in quite some time.

  *

  Leigh’s jeans irritated and chafed as she walked, making each step excruciatingly pleasurable. Her body was like a circuit board with all components firing at once. Not even a cold shower would stop the subcutaneous itch. But her needs surpassed sex. She craved the discovery of everything Macy Sheridan—her dreams and nightmares, her likes and dislikes, what turned her on, her deepest secrets and most private thoughts. What prevented Macy from accepting the comfort of human touch? And what had caused that classic suicide-like scar on her left wrist? The image of it flashed through Leigh’s mind, and she almost dropped the painting she was hauling up the stairs to the apartment.

  Macy’s kiss had reminded her of the need for passion that fueled her body and the connection to another woman that fed her soul. She’d bonded with Gayle but been dismissed like a cheap pair of shoes. Seldom in their three-year relationship had Gayle shared a vulnerable moment or
shed a tear about anything. She’d always been the initiator with Gayle, asking for affection, bargaining for sex, and pleading for intimacy. Gayle never kissed her like Macy just did, uninhibited and hungry, like nothing and no one in the world mattered more in that moment.

  How had she gotten to this place with Macy? Two days ago she’d been on the verge of homelessness, vilified by an angry, unsympathetic woman hell-bent on maintaining her privacy and autonomy. Today Macy had apologized, showing a sensitive side Leigh had only glimpsed before. They’d talked about parents and misunderstandings and the sadness Macy wore like a garment. She’d wanted to get to know Macy better, not bring up a painful past. What caused her so much turmoil and grief?

  She rubbed the fabric on her shoulder and inhaled Macy’s fragrance, like rosemary on the dunes. Reaching out to her had seemed the most natural thing she’d ever done. Her heart had shattered as Macy crumpled against her, and she was powerless to do anything but listen. It seemed so little for someone in so much pain.

  Whatever was bothering Macy was the reason she’d reached out to her and the reason she’d withdrawn. Macy had admitted she wanted the kiss as much as Leigh did, so what was powerful enough to override her innate sexual urge?

  If she wanted a relationship, she’d have to wait until Macy was ready. It wouldn’t be easy to stay away now that she’d glimpsed Macy’s underlying passion. But something strong and unrelenting haunted Macy. Until it was resolved, Leigh didn’t stand a chance of being a part of her life, much less a priority.

  Chapter Eleven

  As Leigh jogged her morning route along Egret Lane, the trees seemed fuller, the flowers brighter, and her mood significantly improved. She’d maintained her workout routine for almost two weeks and was beginning to feel like her old self again. Today she was even more energized and horny as hell. She’d developed a definite case of Macy-lust that pulsated like a transformer about to overload. She made the final sprint to the top of the driveway in record time, and her breathing was hardly labored. If her hormones didn’t calm down, she’d have to chop another cord of wood or bat down Macy’s door with the ax.

  She was leaning against the mailbox, stretching her hamstrings when her cell phone rang. Checking the caller ID, she groaned. Nate was normally not this early. “Hello.”

  “Do you ever check your messages, Monroe?” His tone was flat and tight. “I’ve left three. This living-in-the-boonies shit isn’t working for me.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We’ve got a problem.”

  “I hate it when you start a conversation that way. Which particular one are you referring to? We have choices.”

  “Don’t want to get into details on the phone. Never know who’s listening. But it’s about our most recent venture. How soon can you meet me?”

  “About an hour. Just finished my jog so I’d like a shower.”

  “An hour. Dunkin’.” He didn’t need to say which one, and he didn’t bother with good-bye.

  She wasn’t even in the city anymore. What could’ve gone wrong now? How could she screw things up remotely? As she trotted toward the apartment, she told herself she hadn’t done anything wrong.

  “Leigh?”

  Macy stood on the porch watching her with eyes that raked her soul. Her lips were full and the deep red of burning embers. She remembered their softness against hers, the sweet-salty taste of her tongue, and stumbled forward. “Yeah?” It was the only thing that came out around the pounding in her throat that mimicked the throbbing between her legs.

  “Want a cup of coffee or some breakfast? I could make blueberry pancakes.”

  And she cooks too. “Uh…I’d love both, but I have to meet Nate. Could I get a to-go mug, after I shower?” She started to add, and a piece of you for the road. Macy’s right leg peek-a-booed from the closure of her burgundy bathrobe, and her creamy cleavage was highlighted by the plunging neckline. She couldn’t decide which was the better view. Both made her ache.

  “Sure. I’ll have it ready on your way out. Do you like what you see, Detective?”

  Busted. “Very much.” She forced herself to turn and walk in the opposite direction. If that hadn’t been an invitation, she was losing her ability to read women. But it would take more than a flash of flesh and a subtle comment to convince her that Macy was ready to take her on. “See you in a few.”

  Leigh’s shower left her clean and dirty. The sweat and grime from her run disappeared, but the sheets of water trailing down her body tantalized like she imagined Macy’s hands and mouth would, causing a flood of another kind. After several attempts to shake Macy’s image, she turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. The thought of putting clothes on her sensitive skin was not appealing; sandpaper on sunburn came to mind.

  As she dressed, she glanced at the stack of reports on the coffee table. The cold case Captain Howard had entrusted her to review was still unfinished. One unpleasant task at a time. First, she’d figure out what Nate was on about, and tonight she’d dive back in. She slid down the stair railing to the dock below, lucky she didn’t pick up an ass load of splinters. Macy sat on the porch, fully dressed, sipping a mug of coffee with another by her chair.

  “You certainly look refreshed.”

  She laughed, unable to ignore the pulsing in her center and her unsuccessful attempts to shower effectively while thinking about Macy.

  “Did I say something funny?”

  “No, I just…it’s me. Strange morning. Is that mine?”

  Macy offered her the mug but held on to it when she tried to take it. “Are you all right, about yesterday? I didn’t mean to complicate things…any more than they already are.”

  “I’m fine. Maybe a little keyed up, but otherwise, okay. How about you?”

  “The same, I guess. I shouldn’t advertise things that aren’t for sale.”

  Leigh nearly spat out her sip of coffee. “I beg your pardon?”

  “It’s an old saying my dad used when I was a teenager, a warning about boys. If you tease them with the goods, they’ll expect you to put out. Come to think of it, some of the women I’ve dated had that same philosophy.”

  “Yeah, lesbians can be like that. Sex is a big deal, at least in the beginning. Don’t worry. I won’t give you the bum’s rush. I’m a patient woman, especially when it comes to something that’s worth waiting for. Thanks for the coffee. Gotta dash.”

  On her way into town, she replayed her parting conversation with Macy. Their exchange had been easy and uncomplicated in spite of the kiss last night. She’d expected some discomfiture, but Macy seemed fine, even a little flirtatious. Maybe their honesty had allowed them both to relax a bit. She certainly felt emotionally closer to Macy, but she’d have to be careful. One conversation didn’t make a relationship, and Macy Sheridan wasn’t the kind of woman to leap easily or often.

  When she pulled into the Dunkin’ Donuts lot, Nate was sitting on the hood of his car with two cups of coffee and a donut. “Is that chocolate-glazed custard-filled, and is it for me? Please say yes.” She snagged the fried-dough confection before he could answer. “Too late.” She bit into the warm treat and custard oozed out the sides. “This is heaven.”

  “It looks like something diseased or—”

  “Stop. If you ever want my help again, let me eat this in peace.” She’d regretted not having Macy’s blueberry pancakes on the drive and was ravenous. Three monster bites later the donut was gone, and she licked her sticky fingers clean.

  “Am I free to speak now that you’ve gorged yourself on that disgusting thing?”

  “What’s going on? Spit it out before you bust a gut.”

  “We’ve been waved off the search for Steven Temple.”

  “By whom?”

  “The feds. They stormed into the office this morning, before any of the detectives arrived, and grilled the admin assistant about running information on the guy. They told her, in no uncertain terms, that we were all to steer clear of Temple and any of his relatives pa
st, present, and future. When she told us, you can imagine she was scared shitless, didn’t even know what branch of the feds.”

  “Sounds like we’ve stumbled into a big pile of crap. Feds could be the Department of Agriculture, Army, Homeland Security, Border Patrol, Post Office. The list goes on. Any idea what it’s all about?”

  “Nope, and we aren’t likely to find out either.” Nate cocked his head to the side and gave her a mischievous grin. “Are we, partner?”

  “We most certainly are not,” she said as she nodded. “I expect you to do exactly what the feds said and stay out of this. I mean it, Nate.”

  “Jack is my responsibility now that he’s officially in the system, in case you forgot. I’d say they’re the ones stepping out of bounds.”

  “Don’t stick your neck out too far. Let me do that since mine’s already on the block.”

  “I’m going to do my job, like you would. If anything goes tits up, I’ll just blame it on you, all right?” He grinned and nudged her in the side. “Let’s talk to the kid again and see if he’ll cough up anything else. He’s our only shot.”

  “Anything from missing persons?”

  He shook his head.

  “I’m surprised someone hasn’t filed a report. He’s a good kid. Somebody’s bound to be looking for him,” Leigh said.

  “You’d think, but I check every day.”

  “If he doesn’t give us anything, maybe we should post his picture and see if anything pops.”

  “I think it’s time, but we can’t post on the Center for Missing and Exploited Children site until we have the documentation to back it up. You know the drill.”

  “Yeah, but I know somebody who works in the call center. Maybe I can cash in a favor. In the meantime, let’s go chat with young Jack. See you at the foster home.”