by Unknown
“Grace, you don’t have—”
“No, I do. I’m sorry I hurt you.” Grace knew she’d been unfair to Torrie, dumping her and then dumping on her for their near indiscretion. She’d been to blame too. She hadn’t meant to be a bitch, a tease, and then to drop her without an explanation. She just didn’t know how to explain in a way that Torrie would understand.
“Grace, you didn’t—”
“I did. I did hurt you, Torrie. And I wish I could take it back.” Grace took a deep, ragged breath, and then Torrie’s arms were suddenly around her, holding her firmly. Torrie’s face nestled down into her shoulder, and Grace let her body sag into the embrace. It felt so good to be held, to be cherished this way. Protected, almost. It took her breath away.
The hug lingered, Torrie gently extricating herself after several minutes. There was no awkwardness, no sexual tension, no looming kiss or roaming hands, thankfully. Torrie gave her a final smile that was more humility than hubris. “I’ll see you around, Grace.”
Grace leaned heavily against the door, watching Torrie disappear down the path and into the darkness. Just when she thought she had Torrie figured out, the woman did something that totally threw her. Turned her inside out. Restored her respect and renewed the intense feelings of fondness for her.
Torrie Cannon was a special young woman. Of that, she was sure.
CHAPTER TEN
Her reputation for being organized intact, Connie had her bags packed and lined up neatly in the hallway, even though she wasn’t leaving for the mainland for several hours.
Torrie spotted her on the back deck, sketching with charcoal. The image of Connie reaching toward a canvas—a pencil, charcoal or brush in her long, gnarly fingers—would always be with Torrie, and she stood admiring the sight, remembering the countless times over the years she’d watched her aunt in the same pose.
“Hey,” she finally called out, the slam of the screen door behind her startling her aunt. “Sorry.”
Aunt Connie smiled fleetingly, pulling her gaze back to the large sketchpad on the easel in front of her, and Torrie’s eyes followed. With bold black strokes, Connie was sketching a woman walking on the beach, a stick in one hand, a large dog beside her intently watching its master. Torrie stepped closer, peering over Connie’s shoulder, and was immediately struck by the sketch. It was Grace on the canvas, her hair loose around her shoulders, a look of pure delight on her face, the cuffs of her jeans pulled up to her knees. The figure walked bare-toed in wet sand, the surf lapping just inches away. The attention to detail was magnificent, and Torrie sucked in her breath. “It’s beautiful, Aunt Connie.”
“She’s a beautiful subject to work with. She makes it easy.”
Torrie couldn’t take her eyes off the sketch. Grace looked so youthful, carefree, happy—the way Torrie imagined she would look if she were in love. “You like her a lot, don’t you?” she asked, her gaze still pinned to the sketch.
“Yes, I do. Why don’t you, Torrie?”
Torrie couldn’t look at her aunt for a moment, afraid the shame of her unrequited feelings would be revealed. But Aunt Connie had set down her charcoal and was leaning back in her wicker chair, looking at her insistently.
Torrie sat down heavily in the adjacent chair. “I like her just fine, Aunt Connie.” She really wanted to tell her aunt to leave it alone, to quit bugging her about Grace. To quit trying to force them together. Grace had certainly been right about Aunt Connie’s matchmaking intentions, but the pointlessness of it was getting tiresome.
“You don’t really act like you do. Both of you act more like you’re just tolerating each other.”
“That’s not true.”
“I certainly hope not, because I’ve arranged for you to have dinner with Grace at her place tomorrow night. I don’t want you to starve while I’m away. Or be lonely.”
Oh, Christ. It was hard enough being just a few houses away from Grace. Being forced to spend time with her was far more than she could handle. It was downright painful. The hug last night had been frighteningly fantastic. Their bodies fit together perfectly, and Grace was so supple and warm against her that Torrie had had to remind herself that it was merely a friendly hug, that nothing more would ever happen between them. “Please tell me you didn’t do that.”
“Of course I did. Grace was very gracious about it. More than you’re being.”
Oh, God. When is this nightmare going to end? Aunt Connie couldn’t know her feelings of emptiness and worthlessness since she’d left Hartford, and not because Grace didn’t want her. The sexual rejection was only a part of it. Mostly, it was because since meeting Grace, she saw what her life was really worth, hopping between one-night stands, never really letting anyone in, never caring about anything but her career, never even letting herself question what she wanted for her future. Somewhere, she had allowed her soul to become barren, and it was for that reason that a woman like Grace would never want to be with her. It was the worst kind of rejection.
“Torrie, dear, you look upset!” Connie looked at her worriedly. “Did I say something?”
“No, no.” Torrie tried to dismiss her concerns, but it was no use. What she really wanted to do was crawl into her aunt’s lap the way she had when she was a child. “I’m sorry, I—” Torrie’s voice faltered. She wished Grace didn’t make her feel so weak, so vulnerable. So goddamned scared for the first time in her life.
Aunt Connie reached over and squeezed Torrie’s hand affectionately. Her scrutiny was piercing, her voice that of an adult commanding a child. “Look at me, Torrie.”
Slowly, Torrie brought her gaze level with her aunt’s. A tiny quiver had formed uncontrollably in her bottom lip. Goddammit!
“Oh, honey.” Aunt Connie was on her knees in front of her, her arms flung tightly around Torrie’s shoulders, and Torrie, reluctant for only a moment, let herself be held. “I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me you’re in love with her?”
Torrie could only shake her head, knowing that if she spoke, she’d cry. She was so close to tears, she could taste them in the back of her throat.
Aunt Connie delicately rubbed the back of her neck and muttered softly to her. Torrie let herself be soothed, the way she had when she would awaken from a nightmare as a small child, or after she’d scraped her knees from chasing her mischievous brothers around the island. She loved her aunt for her ability to comfort and console her, even though she had been a firm, sometimes overbearing presence in her youth. Aunt Connie had had high expectations of the youngsters. She was not easy to please, did not allow the easy road to be taken, but she had always showered rewards and love on her nieces and nephews when they deserved it. They strove to please her, their respect for her immense.
“Why is it so hard loving her, Torrie?”
Torrie, still nestled into her aunt, had no single answer. “Lots of reasons,” she said hoarsely.
“Tell me the biggest one, then.”
“She doesn’t want me,” Torrie rasped, realizing it was the first time she’d spoken the truth about Grace to anyone.
“Ah, I see.” Aunt Connie pulled herself free, gently cupping Torrie’s face in her calloused hands. “And why do you think that is?”
Torrie was no expert at deciphering the complexities of love, but she had a pretty good idea why Grace couldn’t fathom a relationship with her. Torrie’s youth and bold promiscuity were the two biggest factors, she was sure, but she would keep it simple with her aunt. “I think I came on too strong at the start. I guess I scared her.”
Aunt Connie eased herself back into her chair. “You thought she was just another girl.”
“Yes. I was attracted to her. So much.” Torrie still remembered the shocking little sensations in her stomach when she’d met Grace for the first time, how she’d begun to crave Grace’s smile, how right Grace had felt in her arms when they danced. Her desire for Grace had grown exponentially. Even now, when she knew there was no hope, her need for Grace was like a wall of fire that scorched
her skin and sucked the air from her lungs.
“But she wasn’t like the others,” Aunt Connie answered for her.
“Not even close.”
“Have you told her how you feel?”
“No,” Torrie said emphatically. “And I’m not going to.”
“What?” Aunt Connie looked dumbstruck. “Why not?”
“I told you, she doesn’t want me.”
“Maybe if she knew how you really felt…”
“No. It’s no use, Aunt Connie.”
“Oh, Torrie.” Aunt Connie reached over and clutched her hand sympathetically. “You’ve never been in love before, have you?”
Torrie had never discussed her love life with her aunt before, but she knew Aunt Connie was aware, at least vaguely, of her wild ways and her reputation with women. Although Aunt Connie had never been judgmental about her personal life, for the first time, it occurred to Torrie that she was a failure for never having had a serious relationship before. God. What could possibly have made her think Grace would even consider her? Winners like Grace didn’t want anything to do with losers, and that’s exactly what Torrie was, no matter how many golf trophies lined her shelf. She was a loser who had no idea how to love someone, how to treat a woman beyond the seduction and conquest.
“Grace would never go for someone like me,” Torrie said bleakly, the truth of the statement reverberating through the landscape of her soul like tiny shockwaves.
“Oh, nonsense.” Aunt Connie squeezed her hand for emphasis. “You’re a good woman, Torrie. You’re strong, you’re smart, and you have a wonderful heart. Remember that little boy who used to live down the road here?” She smiled at the memory. “He was a couple of years younger than you. What was his name again?”
Torrie thought back to the chubby, shy little boy, and wondered where her aunt was going with this. “Robbie something-orother.”
“Oh, yes, Robbie Sommerset. He used to get picked on all the time. One day you threatened to beat up the other kids if they didn’t leave him alone, and then you brought him here and told your brothers that if they didn’t become friends with him, you’d kick their butts too.”
Torrie laughed, remembering her brothers’ protestations quickly dying on their lips while she loomed over them, full of unpredictable fury. They’d done exactly as she’d ordered, and the rest of the summer was an enjoyable one for little Robbie Sommerset.
“Grace just needs more time to get to know you, Torrie. Don’t throw this chance away. Don’t you let that woman go without a fight. And you do know how to fight for things.”
Torrie gazed out at the sea, or what she could see of it through the pines. She was not afraid of a good fight, but she wasn’t stupid about it. She never saw the point of exerting the physical and emotional energy if success were not at least a reasonable outcome. And in this case, the odds were far from in her favor.
“I don’t know if I want to,” she answered quietly, her words carried off by the breeze.
Torrie was nearly overrun at the door by Grace’s huge chocolate Lab, whose tongue was the most aggressive thing about him. He was a big baby, ravenous for Torrie’s attention, and she was happy to give it to him. It gave her a few moments to gather her composure in Grace’s presence. She was still unable to shake the futile feeling that she’d lost something significant—that her best chance with Grace was behind her, and that the most she could hope for now was a friendly truce.
“That’s Remy, by the way,” Grace said, and Torrie gave the squirming beast the affection he craved, patting him roughly, then tickling him under his chin. “I hope you’re hungry,” Grace called over her shoulder as she padded into the open concept kitchen, her feet bare on the oak planks.
“Are you kidding?” Torrie said, following.
“Right. What was I thinking?”
Torrie was always hungry. And not just for food, as Grace’s tight little ass in those navy Capri pants quickly reminded her. There was still the undeniable pull of desire whenever she was near her, like now. Her libido did not understand reason.
Grace poured them each a glass of Cabernet Merlot, and Torrie was anxious for the alcohol to calm her. She wasn’t sure how things would be between them. They’d need to feel their way, define this new relationship. Torrie couldn’t help but feel like she was stepping up to the first tee box of a very crucial match, where the first drive would set the tone and determine whether the round was going to be easy or a struggle.
Torrie sipped her wine contemplatively. In spite of her concealed anxiety, she was determined to remain in a good mood tonight. She just wanted them to get used to each other again in a pleasant way and forget there were little walls between them— things they hadn’t really talked about. Like why Grace won’t give me a chance. She looked at Grace and produced a smile. She could have a pleasant time as long as she didn’t expect too much.
“You know, Grace. Contrary to whatever my aunt has told you, I really won’t starve in her absence.”
Grace, her hip against the five-burner, stainless steel gas range, smiled at Torrie. It was a cordial smile, nothing more, but it still sent tiny shivers racing up and down Torrie’s spine. She only wished the smile were an invitation, so they could forget about dinner and—
“I know you won’t starve. But don’t you find eating dinner alone is just, I don’t know, so lonely?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it, to tell you the truth. I mean, isn’t, you know, eating the whole point?” To Torrie, it certainly was.
Grace frowned in her direction. “Tell you what. Let’s not make food the focal point of this dinner tonight.”
“Umm.” Torrie took a bolstering sip of her wine. “What else would you like to do, then?” A thousand ideas raced through her mind, none of which would appeal to Grace, unfortunately.
Grace laughed, turned her back and lifted the lid to the cast iron pot simmering on the stovetop. Torrie nearly dropped to her knees at the divine smells that seemed to be shooting straight past her taste buds and into her stomach. Beef, onions and mushrooms simmered in some sort of thick broth. Grace stirred the wonderful concoction and Torrie stepped closer, inhaling deeper. She was in heaven.
“My God, what’s in that pot, Grace?”
“Beef bourguignon.” She added a little red wine and stirred some more.
“Jesus, I want to climb in there. What’s in it?”
“Beef, red wine, some button mushrooms, pearled onions, garlic. I’ll serve it over noodles, garnish it with some fresh parsley, and I’ve got some nice crusty French bread to go with it.”
Torrie inhaled again, dizzy from the aroma, the wine she was drinking and the fact that this sexy woman was cooking such wonderful, exquisite food for her. This was more of a turn-on than she’d bargained for. “Sorry. What did you say earlier about the food? That we’re not supposed to eat it or something?” If that were true, she’d surely pass out on the spot, the way her mouth was watering and her stomach gurgling. It would be agonizing. And such a waste.
Grace set the wooden spoon down on the granite counter and grinned at Torrie, managing to look both mirthful and flirtatious.
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t torture you like that, Torrie.”
Torrie swirled the wine in her glass and gave in to the temptation to tease Grace. She gave her a knowing look. “What? Get me so stoked that I’m just about ready to explode, then pull the plug on me?”
Grace didn’t say anything for a long moment, just sipped her wine and innocently studied Torrie. Then her mouth curled into a slow, tantalizing smile. “I guess I am guilty of that. I probably even deserve a bit of my own medicine.”
Torrie leaned back against the counter next to Grace. She didn’t want to stray too far from the delicious smelling pot. “So, I just have to find something you really, really want and then snatch it away from you at the last second?”
She knew she was walking a fine line, but it felt surprisingly good to be making light of that night in her hotel r
oom. She knew she was being a little evil now, twisting the knife a bit too much, but then, Grace did deserve it.
Thankfully, Grace laughed. “All right, you could get me tickets to that Diana Krall-Herbie Hancock concert at the Boston Symphony Hall at the end of September, and then make up some outlandish story about it being cancelled.”
Torrie made a mental note. She’d see if there really was such a concert and whether she could get tickets. “Wouldn’t happen. Lucky for you, I don’t like to disappoint women.”
Grace gave her a dubious look, and a surge of desire streaked through Torrie’s veins until her body was humming with it like a taut, electrical line at full power. It was definitely time to change the subject. She didn’t trust herself not to grab Grace, hoist her up on the counter and kiss her into the next century.
“So,” Torrie said with effort. “Back to the food not being the focal point of the dinner. What did you mean by that?”
Grace turned the elements off and began draining the noodles. The bread was already sliced and in a basket, and she asked Torrie to take it to the table. “There’s a lighter on the table too, if you wouldn’t mind lighting the candles.”
Torrie was impressed. The table was set for two, with fresh cut flowers and two tall candles. Piano music was playing softly— Herbie Hancock she presumed. It was incredibly romantic, and she wondered if that was Grace’s intention, or if it was just her stylish way of preparing an intimate, friendly dinner. Torrie couldn’t be sure, and while part of her—a big part of her—hoped it was the former, she really didn’t want any more head games from Grace. She didn’t think she could handle getting her hopes up again, only to have them crushed by rejection.
In the kitchen, Torrie topped up their wineglasses as Grace deftly spooned the beef bourguignon over the egg noodles, then with a flourish, sprinkled it with fresh chopped parsley.
“This food,” Grace said, setting their plates down on the table, “we will enjoy.” She sat down and Torrie did the same, spreading the linen napkin across her lap. “But it’s the company, the conversation, the wine…” Grace gestured demonstratively around them. “The music, the candles, the view of that sunset out those windows. We’re going to enjoy all of those things just as much as the food, if not more.”