by V. K. Powell
“Did you enjoy your reunion?”
“Yes…no.”
“Which is it? You’ve never had trouble with your words before, Detective. What’s wrong?”
“It wasn’t a reunion.”
Macy leaned back in the booth, and her hot gaze seemed to skim every inch of her flesh as if searching for fingerprints or some telltale sign of her evening with Gayle. “She traveled all the way from Toronto to see you. It sure looked a reunion from where I stood. Another tantalizing display on the dock.”
Was Macy actually jealous, or was she getting ready to launch into another sermon about inappropriate behavior in public? She reached for Macy’s hand but she pulled away. “Is that what you’re upset about? You think we got back together?”
“I’m not upset.” She straightened in her seat and cocked her head to one side. “But if an ex-lover spends the night in your bed, I’d say there’s a pretty good chance of a joining of some kind…but that’s none of my business. If she’s what you want, I—”
“Macy.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Macy, stop.” She reached, palm up, toward Macy. “Take my hand, please.”
“We’re in a public place.”
“I don’t care. I have something important to say, and I need to touch you.” Macy sighed and took her hand, diffusing the angry air around her. “Gayle and I did not get back together. That’s what she wanted, but I don’t. And we certainly didn’t have sex. I slept on the sofa.”
Macy’s grasp on her fingers tightened, and she stroked the back of her hand with her thumb. “I totally suck at this emotional stuff. I have no right to question anything you do with anyone. I’m certainly not offering you a happily ever after. I’m not even sure such a thing exists. I’m sorry, Leigh.”
If they’d been alone, she would’ve kissed Macy. She seemed so vulnerable and Leigh wanted to reassure her. “You don’t have to make promises. I know you’re going through a hard time. But if you want, maybe we could spend some time together and see what happens.”
The shocked look on Macy’s face was almost comical. “You mean you still want to? You know I’m a basket case, right?”
“I like what I see, very much, and I want to get to know you better…if you’ll stop pushing me away.” She smiled and squeezed Macy’s hand.
“I’ll try.”
Now was the perfect time to tell Macy about her involvement in Jesse’s case, while they were being so honest. Maybe she was a coward because she knew it would create a rift between them, but they’d need more privacy for this particular discussion. No matter which way it went, Macy was going to be upset. Might as well get it over with. Just as she started to speak, the waitress returned.
“Sorry to break this up,” she nodded to their joined hands, “but I got hots coming through.” She set their plates down and sloshed more coffee into their cups. “As you were.” She gave Macy a wink and swished off.
“What was that?” Leigh asked.
“Nothing. She sat for me a couple of times.”
“Maybe I’m the one who needs to be jealous, with all these young college students posing nude for you in the boonies.”
“At least they don’t fly in from another country to see me.”
Leigh held up her hands in surrender. “Let’s call a cease-fire and eat breakfast. Tell me about your evening.”
“I worked on the reconstruction all night and made pretty good progress.”
“All night?”
Macy kept her head down and pushed a piece of bacon around on her plate. “Most of it, when I wasn’t imagining you and Gayle rutting like rabbits. I’m awful, I know. I’ve never given a damn what another woman does or with whom, until you.”
“I’m really glad you do.” Leigh wasn’t aware anyone had ever been jealous of her before, and she liked the warm feeling it gave her. Macy was admitting she cared. That was good enough, for now.
When they finished breakfast, Leigh paid the check and walked Macy to her car. “I’ll see you back at the house. I’ve got some work to do, but if you’re not busy, how about dinner later?”
“I’ll cook and bring it over to the apartment. I haven’t eaten out there in ages. Tonight is supposed to be perfect weather.” Macy pulled Leigh toward her through the open driver’s window and kissed her. “Don’t make me wait too long.”
“Ms. Sheridan, I do believe that was a PDA right here beside the police department.”
“Where you’re concerned, I don’t really care about public displays of affection. I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.”
Her eyes burned into Leigh. “You better stop looking at me like that or they’ll see more than a chaste kiss.”
“Promises, promises.” Macy laughed as she pulled out of the lot, waving until she was out of sight.
Chapter Fifteen
After breakfast with Leigh, stomach full and emotions soothed, Macy returned home and went to bed. Her all-nighter had finally caught up with her and she slept until early afternoon. She woke energized and ready to finish the facial reconstruction. She couldn’t wait to return to her art.
The nose was one of the most difficult facial features to reconstruct because the underlying bone was limited and the possibility of variation extensive. She measured the width of the nasal aperture and the nasal spine and applied the appropriate calculation to yield the approximate nose length. Next, she examined the direction of the nasal spine to determine the pitch of the nose, in this case a slightly upturned one. She mounted a block of clay in place and filled the remaining nasal tissue, using the surrounding markers as a guide for the bridge of the nose. Her fingers slid along the clay, fashioning and smoothing the remaining muscles, building up the tissue until the thickness markers were covered and the final characteristics of the face etched.
As the face became more defined, a story about this unfortunate girl emerged in her mind and with it the feelings she always tried to suppress. Friends and family would never smile upon this child again. She’d never kiss a lover, never bear children, raise a family, or be a grandmother. Macy skimmed the clay with her finger and felt a rush of sadness and resignation. Tears blurred her vision and she wiped at them with the sleeve of her smock. It was difficult to accept the immortality of youth when combined with the finality of death.
While working, she resisted the temptation to add her own artistic flare to the reconstruction or to individualize the face in any way. She wanted to make this child’s final viewing her most beautiful and memorable, but she had to rebuild, not interpret. As she cleaned her hands, she sobbed, purging the remaining emotions and saying good-bye to the young girl.
She photographed the final product using a digital camera and slipped the card into an envelope. With her other reconstructions, she’d immediately stripped the skull back to its original condition after photographing it and repackaged it for return to the police. But she left this one, as a last nod to the forensics work she’d done for seven years and maybe as an apology to Jesse for leaving her case unsolved. Though she would never truly forget, she had to move on.
It seemed appropriate to finish the case today after she and Leigh had agreed to explore their feelings. But building a relationship wasn’t the same as reconstructing a face. The skull provided a map of sorts for her to follow. She didn’t have a guide for navigating the subtleties and nuance of intimate interactions with another woman. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, she had feelings for Leigh Monroe. No matter how things turned out for them, she owed Leigh a great debt for helping loosen the grip of the past and rekindling her artistic passion.
Time crept as she tidied up the studio, showered, and began preparations for dinner. She stole frequent glimpses at the clock, telling herself she was just timing the meal with Leigh’s arrival. She’d decided on a grilled-salmon salad: simple to make, hard to mess up, quick to eat, and not heavy on the stomach. How long had it been since she’d planned a meal with sex as dessert? She rubbed a hand a
cross her quivering abdomen as she heard Leigh’s vehicle pull into the driveway.
Crunching footsteps on gravel and a light tap on her door. She stared at the wooden structure between her and Leigh, willing it to open so she could watch her lover cross to her. Another knock. She was rooted in place, unable to take the first step. “Come in.”
When Leigh opened the door and walked toward her, she felt as if she’d been cast in a sappy lesbequin romance. Leigh, green eyes blazing, red hair a portent of the passion underneath, and lips slightly parted, strode toward her like an archetypal hero come to claim her.
“I thought this evening would never get here,” Leigh said, grabbing her in a hug that forced her to breathe again. “How is it possible to miss someone I barely know so much?”
Leigh’s lips pressed against hers and all rational thought vanished, replaced by a wanting so immediate she struggled to stand. Their tongues clashed and searched and soothed until she had to pull back. “I…don’t…know. Me too.”
She wasn’t used to being so enamored with someone, so hungry for her that time crawled and everything else dimmed. Could she handle that kind of need? Did she want to? Her body said yes, but her mind cast a shadow. Years of hands-on death and hands-off emotions had anesthetized her, and she’d found a degree of comfort in the belief that she couldn’t be hurt again. She stepped out of Leigh’s embrace and nodded toward the refrigerator. “If you don’t stop, we’ll never eat. Get the wine while I finish up.”
Leigh looked as if she’d stolen something precious from her. “Are you sure you want to eat at the apartment? This is awfully cozy.” She slowly moved away, retrieved the wine, and placed it on the counter.
“I haven’t spent much time out there recently, and I always enjoyed it as a kid, so yes.” She wouldn’t admit she also wanted to erase the image of Leigh with Gayle in that space and replace it with their memories.
“I like being with you in a place you feel so comfortable. You look different. Has something happened?”
“I completed the reconstruction. How could you tell?”
“You just look more relaxed. You’ve decided to return to your art, haven’t you?”
“Yes, but how did you know? You’re a little spooky.”
“Good spooky or bad spooky?” Leigh pressed close behind her and encircled her waist.
“Not sure yet. Now back off before I totally lose concentration and slice a finger.” She playfully waved the knife she held and pointed toward the kitchen table. “Would you mind putting the salads on that tray after I add the toppings?”
“I don’t really want to take my hands off you, but I guess I could manage.”
Her words sent another shudder of desire through Macy, and she fought the urge to take her right there on the table. Leigh provoked urges that hadn’t surfaced in her for years, and she itched to dominate this woman who seemed so willing to please. “If you don’t stop, we won’t have a meal. Let’s get to the apartment before I completely lose control.”
“Losing control can be a very good thing. Want me to show you?” Leigh reached for her again, but she spun in a circle and started toward the door, tray in hand. “Killjoy.”
“You’ll pay for those words, later. I promise.” Macy heard an anguished moan from Leigh as she headed toward the dock. Teasing was fun, but it wasn’t nearly enough. This meal couldn’t be over fast enough.
While she sprinkled seasonings on the salad, Leigh moved the small settee from the living area onto the balcony overlooking the lake. The air was a perfect blend of late-winter cool and early spring warmth, with no hint of humidity or bugs. They settled with their feet on the rungs of the balcony and lap trays full of food and wine. Neither spoke as they savored the ambiance of the setting and their food.
Leigh lifted Macy’s hand to her lips and covered the backside with light kisses. “I adore you for this. Spending time with someone I care about is the most important thing to me. I’d much rather sit quietly or just talk than do mindless activities. When it comes down to it, these are the moments of real connection, when important things are said and done. This is true intimacy.”
“I never knew you were such a romantic, Detective.” She kissed Leigh’s cheek, careful not to start the real kiss they both wanted. “Now finish your dinner. I have plans for you, and the longer you talk, the more I ache.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Leigh stuffed an oversized forkful of salad into her mouth.
What had come over her? The first time they’d made love she was like a wild animal during mating season. She’d orchestrated every move to tease Leigh and bring her to multiple orgasms as quickly as possible. Tonight she’d wanted to take it slow, savor the deliciousness that was Leigh, just in case she didn’t get another opportunity. But the longer she waited, the more certain she became that extended foreplay was not in her immediate future. She wanted the throbbing in her to stop, and only quick, raw sex would satisfy. Something this enjoyable and uninhibited didn’t happen to her often, and the possibility that it might be short-lived made her crave it more.
“Done, and that was delicious. Is it a special recipe or specific seasonings?” Leigh moved the dishes to the kitchen, returned with the wine bottle, and topped up their glasses.
“Something my mother used to serve. I’m glad you liked it.”
“That’s an understatement.” Leigh swung her legs onto the sofa and tucked them under her in the relaxed pose Macy had come to expect. “Do we need to talk about yesterday? Gayle?”
She blushed as she remembered her vehement response to Leigh’s ex and the intimate exchange she’d seen between them at the dock. “I’ve already said too much about that, and I apologize. I really had no right.”
“I liked how honest you were. I believe it was your first emotional response toward me that wasn’t anger.”
“Sorry, I can be a bit stiff. I’m just glad you’re finished with her.” She sought Leigh’s gaze. “You are, right?”
“Absolutely, no doubt. I think I was the first moment I saw you.”
The words seeped into her pores like a potent aphrodisiac. She edged closer, pulled Leigh’s legs out straight on the sofa, and lay with her back against Leigh’s chest. “Do you mind?”
“Never.” Leigh wrapped her arms around her and periodically stroked down her sides and across the top of her shoulders.
She absorbed the steady cadence of Leigh’s heartbeat and the warm brush of her breath on the back of her neck. She usually equated physical intimacy with sex, but with Leigh, this closeness was enough. “What have you done to me, Leigh Monroe?”
“What’d you mean?”
“When I’m with you I feel completely dismantled.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“I believe it is, but I need to test my theory. Will you make love with me, please?”
“I’d be honored.” Leigh rose and offered her hand. “Come with me.”
“Right here, in the open, under the stars.”
“I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Take your clothes off, slowly, and talk to me as you undress.”
“You do like to be in charge, don’t you?” Leigh didn’t hesitate for an instant. She moved to the balcony in front of Macy, kicked her shoes into the room behind them, and unbuttoned her polo. “I’ve imagined being with you every day since we met, feeling your hands all over me. Every night is another wet dream of you.” Leigh slid her hand under her shirt, her nipple immediately puckering and making Macy’s mouth water. “I’m imagining your hand squeezing my breast, twisting my nipple, so good it hurts. Oh, Macy. Do you see what you do to me?”
She tried to answer but her mouth had gone dry, all fluids racing to her crotch. Leigh shucked off her shirt and it fell to the floor. Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight like a beacon stirring Macy’s blood.
Leigh worked her breasts between her thumb and forefinger from the base to the tip. “Oh, I love the way you’re watching me. You want to touch me. I see it in
your eyes. Do it, Macy.”
She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, trying to scratch the itch growing stronger by the second. “Not yet.”
Leigh continued the breast massage with one hand and trailed the other down her waist to the buttons of her jeans. Instead of opening the fly, she grabbed a fistful of fabric and yanked, pulling the seam tight against her center. “Aww, I could come just like this.” She writhed into the seam like a belly dancer. “Do you want to watch me come right now?”
“Don’t you dare.” Macy wedged her hand between her legs and cupped her sex. “Strip.”
“But this feels so good. I need to come.”
“No. I want you naked and hurting.” She’d never imagined a woman in physical pain from wanting her, but the evidence stood before her in the form of gorgeous Leigh Monroe—the flush of her face, her rapid breathing, and the tightly bunched muscles running the length of her body. How beautiful and what an agonizing turn-on. “You’re exquisite. I’ve never wanted anyone more. Hurry.”
Leigh made quick work of the buttons on her jeans. She pushed them to the floor and stood before her in all her splendid nudity. Leigh skimmed her hands slowly down to her thighs and into the join of her legs, avoiding the center.
“Go ahead. You need to,” she said. Leigh obeyed every directive without question, and her openness and vulnerability tugged at Macy’s heart.
Leigh slid a finger over her own clit. “Oh, jeez.” Her knees trembled, and she raised her hand helplessly. “See what you’ve done?” The tip of her fingers glistened in the moonlight. Macy was hungry to taste her, to feel Leigh’s heated skin against hers, and to smell their mingled fragrances again. “If you don’t touch me soon, I’m going to lose it.”
Macy unbuttoned her blouse, peeling out of the sleeves but leaving the fabric draped over her shoulders. Leigh reached for her. “No. You can touch yourself but not me, not yet.”
“I’m dying here.” Leigh’s moans ratcheted up the pounding between her legs. She unzipped her slacks, kicked them off, and stood on the balcony in her underwear while Leigh was completely nude. Desire surged as Leigh pawed herself as she’d done that night on the dock.