by Radclyffe
“Good.” Jenna squeezed Gard’s hand, pleased to finally be able to take care of Gard in a small way. She’d hardly believed it when she’d heard the truck pull in and had looked up to see Gard parked in the drive. She’d just been walking through the house, recalling her sadness during the first visit, thinking how comforting Gard had been. She hadn’t expected to grieve for a woman she didn’t know, and she certainly hadn’t expected to be consoled by a stranger. Gard didn’t feel like a stranger now, even though she knew very little about her, really.
“You never did tell me where you’re from,” Jenna said as they climbed the back porch steps.
“Does it matter?” Gard said, and the wariness was back in her voice.
“No.” Jenna had told Alice the past was the past, even though she knew the past never completely disappeared. Hers was like a living presence in the back of her mind, whispering reminders of what she’d escaped and warnings of how tenuous the present might be. She wondered if Gard’s past haunted her as hers did. “Are you happy here?”
Gard reached the screen door and held it open for Jenna to pass into the kitchen. “Yes. I like my job.”
“Grab a chair and relax.” Jenna flicked on a wall switch and the round globe in the kitchen ceiling bathed the room in a pale yellow light. If anyone had asked her if she was happy, she would have instantly said yes. She loved her work, thrived on the demands of her busy schedule and the pleasure and security she got from making her own way in the world. Evidently Gard was the same way. Neither of them was attached, apparently by choice. Gard could surely have any number of women if the admiring glances of the ones in the diner—and Rina Gold—were any indication. Neither of them wanted anything serious, neither wanted complications. What could be better? If she was going to be here for a few weeks, she could do much worse than Gard for company. Once she returned to New York, this would just be another piece of the past that had nothing to do with Cassandra Hart’s life.
Humming lightly, Jenna opened the refrigerator and took out all the vegetables, then removed a package of chicken from the freezer. “Stir-fry okay?”
“Sounds pretty perfect. Want help?”
“No. There’s not much to do.”
“Probably safer.”
Jenna laughed. “I take it you don’t cook?”
“Not much reason to, really. Beam is happy with whatever I give her, and I’m not home enough to spend time fixing a meal.”
When Gard turned her chair around from the table to face her, Jenna paused, a half-peeled carrot in one hand. Gard’s long legs stretched out in front of her and she’d draped one arm over the back of her chair. With her dark hair tousled and her rangy body so utterly untamed, she was about the sexiest woman Jenna had ever seen. A knot formed in her throat and she had to swallow before she could speak without a tremor in her voice.
“I forgot, you’re not big on entertaining, so you probably don’t have any reason to do much cooking.” She went back to peeling the carrot and hoped Gard couldn’t read her thoughts. She was usually much better at this game.
“I’m afraid culinary arts are not in my skill set,” Gard murmured.
“I’m sure you have others.” Jenna gave her a slow smile, aware she was flirting. Enjoying herself. She was usually the one being pursued, and even then the seductions often bordered on transactions. This reversal was unexpectedly exciting, and her slowly building arousal even more acute. Gard’s expression seemed to have sharpened, her gaze darker and heavier by the moment. Hoping for casual, Jenna rinsed the package of chicken neatly labeled and frozen in a clear plastic bag under lukewarm water until it began to defrost. “I’ve been thinking I might stay here while I make arrangements for the estate.”
“Here?” Gard straightened. “By yourself?”
“Yes.” Jenna looked over her shoulder. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t? Isn’t it safe?”
“Oh, it’s perfectly safe,” Gard said quickly. “It’s kind of out in the middle of nowhere. I guess I didn’t picture you wanting to be that far from civilization.”
Jenna laughed. “Do you really think I’m some kind of spoiled city girl?”
“Ah, I didn’t say that.” Gard shrugged. “Rina tells me you’re a celebrity, though. You didn’t mention you were an award-winning author.”
“Why would I? Those awards don’t mean anything to anyone outside the industry. The only thing that really matters is how popular your books are with your readers.” Jenna turned and pointed her wooden spoon at Gard. “And you don’t read romances, remember? So I have no chance at impressing you.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Grad stood quickly and strode toward her, so graceful and powerful Jenna’s pulse tripled. “I would imagine being a New York Times best-selling writer is pretty damn amazing for anyone.”
“I’m always happy about having my work recognized, of course,” Jenna drizzled olive oil in the pan and set the burner on medium, “but it’s not something I chase after.”
“No?” Gard stepped close to Jenna to peer into the skillet, so close Jenna caught a whiff of hay and clover. “What do you chase after?”
A night without dreams. A life without fear. Maybe, for a few weeks, you. “The next great story,” Jenna said lightly.
“I imagine you spend a lot of time in the limelight.”
“I suppose.” Jenna grimaced. “Occupational hazard. I’m selling a product, and I’m only as popular as my last book. If I’m not out there reminding people of who I am and what I write, there are plenty of other authors who will step up to fill the gap.”
“You make yourself sound ordinary, and I know that can’t be true.” Gard rested her hand on Jenna’s back and leaned closer to the stove. “That smells great.”
“You’re very good for my ego.” Jenna scooped a mushroom from the pan and held it out to Gard. “Here. Try.”
Gard cradled Jenna’s wrist and held her gaze while she softly blew on the morsel and then slowly closed her mouth around it. Jenna couldn’t look away from her mouth. Oh God, she had a beautiful mouth. Her insides went liquid. If she didn’t step away, she was going to embarrass herself and chase after that mushroom.
“So you think it’s all right if I just move in?” Jenna scooted out from under Gard’s hand and searched the cabinets for plates. “I feel a little presumptuous even cooking in here.”
“Elizabeth left this place to you—I’d think she’d like knowing you were here.” Gard took the plates from Jenna and set them on the table. “In fact, it will be a lot easier to inventory the house. And it’s got to be better than the motor court.”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “Oh, you have no idea. At least here I won’t be tempted to carry a gun to shoot the cockroaches.”
“What about Alice?” Gard asked, her voice carefully neutral.
“She’ll stay here too while she’s visiting.” Jenna laughed as she filled the plates. “I give her three days before the quiet gets to her.”
“What about you? How long do you think you might stay?”
Jenna turned from the table. Gard was inches away. “I haven’t decided. I have a really hectic schedule starting in a few months and I need to get a lot of writing done before I take to the road again. This looks like it will be a great place to work.”
“You don’t think you’ll miss all that big-city excitement?”
Jenna couldn’t miss the bitterness in Gard’s tone and wanted to put the smile back on her sinfully sexy mouth. “I think I’ll be able to find something around here to keep me entertained.”
A second passed, and Gard grinned wryly. “At least for a few weeks.”
“At the very least,” Jenna said.
Chapter Fourteen
Gard was pretty certain she was reading the signals right. Jenna was flirting with her. All through dinner, while they talked about Gard’s job and Jenna’s next book and Elizabeth’s paintings, the conversation drifted easily, like so many leaves on a slow-moving stream. Every now and then, she had
to force herself to focus, having gotten sidetracked by the way Jenna tilted her head when she was concentrating, the way her lips parted when she was amused, the way she leaned forward intently when she was excited by an idea, her breasts peaking the cotton fabric of her short-sleeved shirt. Jenna’s eyes flashed and glowed with emotion. Her body, her voice, her movements were a beautiful symphony playing along Gard’s nerve endings, exciting her, intriguing her, enticing her. By the time they finished the meal and Gard stood up to help clear the table, she was vibrating with the urge to run, or to touch her. She backed up, out of arm’s reach.
Jenna turned, a question in her eyes. “What?”
Gard shook her head, mesmerized as Jenna carefully set the plate she’d just rinsed down on the counter and dried her hands. Behind Jenna, through the window above the sink, the moon rode on silver clouds, dark lakes swirling indolently across its surface. She’d seen a similar moon a thousand times, seen the trees shimmer and the pastures radiant with starlight, but she’d never been pierced by the beauty until all that splendor framed Jenna’s face. She should thank Jenna for the dinner, turn around, and walk out the door.
Jenna took a step closer, then another.
“Jenna,” Gard warned.
“I’m listening.” Jenna was inches away, her mouth so close their lips would meet if Gard bent her head an inch. Carefully, ever so carefully, Gard rested both hands on Jenna’s bare arms, lightly clasping her soft, warm flesh.
“Why?” Gard asked.
The corner of Jenna’s mouth tilted upward. Her pupils, black lakes rimmed by forest green, expanded and contracted. Jenna rested both hands on Gard’s chest and rubbed her palms back and forth, her fingertips tracing the arch of Gard’s collarbones through her T-shirt. “Beyond the obvious?”
Gard’s breath kicked up and she stood absolutely still, letting Jenna explore her. She shivered and thought of the way the horses shied away, knowing they were prey, fearing their defenselessness but still wanting to be close, wanting to be touched. She wasn’t nearly as brave—she’d stopped inviting touch, stopped desiring connection, knowing the deadly vulnerability that followed. Knowing the soul-crushing pain of betrayal. Against her will, she leaned into Jenna’s caresses, inviting, seeking, needing more as Jenna’s fingers traced the outer contours of her breasts, coming close to but never touching her nipples. She shuddered as her nipples tightened into hard, tingling knots.
“The obvious escapes me right now,” Gard said hoarsely.
“Number one,” Jenna murmured, bowing forward until her pelvis snugged neatly into the curve of Gard’s crotch, “you’re gorgeous.”
Gard clenched her teeth as their thighs and bellies cleaved. From Jenna’s pleased smile, it seemed she hadn’t been very successful in hiding her response. Jenna played her fingertips up and down the center of Gard’s torso, as if painting her with sensation.
“But I don’t just love the way you look. I love the way you feel.”
Gard sucked in a breath, her stomach tensing as Jenna’s light strokes became firmer and their hips started a slow thrust and retreat all on their own. Jenna looked up, her gaze hot on Gard’s. “I love turning you on. Am I turning you on?”
“Mission more than accomplished.”
“Oh good.”
Laughing softly, Gard wrapped her arms around Jenna’s waist and tugged her sharply forward until their gentle melding transformed into a hard fusion.
Jenna pressed the flats of her fingers against Gard’s mouth. “I like to see you laugh.”
Gard teased the tip of her tongue between Jenna’s fingertips. Jenna tasted a little bit sweet, a little bit tangy. Gard wanted more, and the wanting was what worried her. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. Maybe the whys don’t matter.”
“Maybe only this moment matters,” Jenna said, her breath coming fast, the green of her irises darkening almost to black. “I want you to make love to me.”
Gard cupped Jenna’s hips, her hands closing possessively over firm muscles. Need flared as swiftly as a summer storm. She wanted hot, bare flesh beneath her fingers and the heady musk of desire in her mouth. The wild pulse in her belly made it impossible to think. “Jenna, God…”
“Don’t think,” Jenna whispered, her mouth an inferno on Gard’s neck. “Just feel me, right now.”
Jenna’s teeth closed on her skin and Gard threw her head back, her vision tunneling into darkness. What were they doing? What was she doing? Her hunger, so sharp after being so long denied, was a beast she feared would turn and ravage them both. “I don’t…I can’t.”
“All right,” Jenna said quickly, curling her fingers inside the waistband of Gard’s jeans. Her light grasp might as well have been iron, for all Gard’s ability to deny her. “Something safe then.”
Gard snorted, her skin so hot she feared it would melt from her bones. “I don’t think there is such a thing with you.”
“Just kiss me. Just a kiss.” Jenna traced her fingertips over Gard’s mouth. “Safe enough, for now.”
“I doubt it,” Gard muttered, but the need rode her hard and she took a chance. Gripping Jenna’s hips, she lifted her onto the counter. Jenna’s arms automatically came around her neck, and Gard caged her with her hands pressed flat beside Jenna’s hips, stifling Jenna’s cry of surprise with her mouth. She wanted to devour her. She wanted to plunge into the heat and promise of Jenna’s body. She wanted to lose herself in the sanctity of flesh and blissful oblivion of passion. For an instant she remembered how it had been with Susannah, the blind race to annihilation, the desperate quest for ultimate escape. Making love with Susannah had been a battle, a struggle to find union when they’d never quite been able to connect in any other way. For those few brief seconds when the world exploded with sensation, when thought was obliterated by white fire, she’d believed herself to be satisfied. She’d believed she’d been connected. She’d believed she’d not been alone.
She’d believed a lie. So many, many lies.
Gard pulled her mouth away, panting. “I don’t want to do this. Not with you.”
Jenna laughed shakily, her fingers closing convulsively on Gard’s shirt. “You have a way of insulting me more often than any woman I’ve ever met.”
Gard closed her eyes and rested her forehead against Jenna’s. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”
“I’ll cut you some slack this time.” Still in control—but barely—Jenna forced her fingers to relax and stroked Gard’s back. She was horribly aroused, more than she had ever expected to be from an almost-kiss. For a few seconds, she’d felt the power of Gard’s passion on the verge of exploding, and she’d wanted to be caught in the blast. She’d wanted the detonation to carry her over the edge into the maelstrom, tumbling her into a whirlwind of pleasure. They’d barely begun, and Gard had jerked away from her. If she hadn’t registered fear in that single jolt, she might have been angry, or at the very least insulted. Instead, she was anything but. She was captivated. And she was furious at the woman who had wounded Gard so deeply.
“It’s all right.” Jenna stroked Gard’s cheek and skimmed her fingers through her hair. “Really, it’s all right.”
“No, it really isn’t.” Gard straightened, her eyes stormy now, cloud-filled and impenetrable. “You’re a beautiful woman. Anyone in their right mind would be lucky to be standing where I am right now.”
“You don’t really know that, but thank you.” Jenna continued tracing light patterns down Gard’s neck and over her tense shoulders. The muscles beneath her fingertips tightened until she feared something might snap. “But this doesn’t have to be hard. It doesn’t even have to be complicated. And it doesn’t have to be tonight.”
Gard stepped away. “Dinner was great. I…Just in case you’re wondering, I didn’t stop because—”
“Oh no,” Jenna said abruptly, holding up one hand. “We’re not going down that road.”
Gard frowned. “What do you mean?”
“We’re not doing the ‘it’s not you, it’s
me’ routine. There is no fault here, no blame.” Jenna jumped down from the counter. “Maybe another time.”
“Sure. Maybe.”
Gard quickly strode to the door and pulled it open. She paused, her eyes bleak. “What I was going to say is that I stopped because I wouldn’t have stopped with just a kiss.”
*
Jenna pulled into the Leaf Peeper parking lot just after midnight. The only light came from the unit she now shared with Alice. The single-pane glass windows in the adjoining units looked like the flat dead eyes of mourners at a funeral.
“Hi,” she said when she let herself into the room. Alice, in sweats and a New York Yankees T-shirt, sat on one of the two double beds, pillows propped up behind her back, her computer balanced on her knees. Jenna didn’t think she’d ever seen her look so casual. When they traveled, they had separate rooms and she’d never seen Alice in anything less formal than pants and polo shirts. Usually she was in full business uniform. Tonight, with her hair loose, dressed in baggy sportswear, she looked a decade younger. Softer. Even more desirable than usual.
“Oh for God’s sake,” Jenna muttered, stalking across the room to the dresser where she’d left her electronics. What was wrong with her? Hormone storm?
“Have a good night?” Alice asked.
“Marvelous. Are you really sure you want to stay here?” Jenna grabbed her laptop and carried it over to the other double bed. The space between her bed and Alice’s was just wide enough to accommodate a nightstand with an alarm clock and a lamp. “It’s pretty cramped.”
“You worry me.” Alice clicked a few keys, then set her laptop on the mattress by her side. “You really can’t be serious about staying up here, so what does another day or two matter?”
Jenna opened her mail program and scanned it as she answered. “Actually, I’m going to move into Elizabeth’s house. The farmhouse. It’s silly to pay to stay somewhere when the house is mine. You’re welcome to come.”