Dark Valentine

by Jennifer Fulton

  Despite the frigid air-conditioning, Jules’s skin felt hot and damp most of the time, as if she’d just stepped out of a humidifier. This afternoon had deteriorated into another fight for control over her libido, and she had escaped from a meeting after her nipples got so tight she knew everyone was looking at them. Normally, she would have had her jacket on, but she kept breaking into a sweat, so she’d taken it off. What a nightmare. Even Carl Hagel, a man so in love with himself he sought his own reflection in wineglasses, had been talking to her breasts.

  Jules was astonished that a casual fling could have reduced her to this state. It wasn’t as if the sex had been spectacular. It was good, no question about that. But Jules never expected much of one-night stands. No one could possibly figure out another person, sexually, in the course of a few hours. In her experience, the buildup was usually more exciting than the event.

  Admittedly, Kate had been unusual compared with the norm. Jules had been surprised that she was into light bondage, but she had a sense something else was going on. Kate didn’t seem remotely familiar with BDSM conventions, and Jules had concluded that she was just experimenting. She’d probably chosen to play out a long-standing fantasy with a stranger because she felt ashamed or self-conscious. Some people didn’t want a regular partner to know they had a yen for kink.

  Normally, Jules wasn’t at home playing bottom in a D/s scenario, but she’d been intrigued by the request and had decided to indulge Kate. She seemed such an unlikely dominant, Jules had wondered if a completely different person would emerge during the ritual of power exchange. In the end, she had no idea whether Kate had found what she was looking for by acting out her fantasy. Jules could imagine her playing the scene over and over in her head without knowing why she was compelled by it, and expecting some kind of revelation when she finally explored her desires in real time. Judging by the next morning, she must have been disappointed.

  Her own reaction was quite the opposite, a fact that surprised Jules. She supposed it made sense that she could enjoy surrendering responsibility for a change, but she would never have gone there with a sexual partner who had something to prove. Kate was another story. She didn’t seem driven by a need for ego gratification. In fact, Jules suspected something about the bondage scenario had made her feel safe. The moment the restraints were tightened, her unease vanished and she lowered her guard. Her dominance was not harsh or calculated, only a confident assertion of her needs. She was open and tender, and in their most naked moments, Jules felt an affinity with her she’d seldom experienced with any lover.

  Maybe that was why the encounter preyed on her mind so relentlessly. She wanted to have sex with Kate again, to find out if she’d simply imagined that fleeting connection. Yet that desire alone could not explain the depth of her erotic fixation. Staring at the spectacular city and mountain view from her office window, she tried to talk sense to herself. She’d had one-night stands before. The experiences were quickly folded away and forgotten, and there were plenty more where they came from. She certainly didn’t dwell on any of the women involved, or ponder ways to engineer a repeat encounter. Why was the interlude with Kate any different? Sure, being tied up was a novelty, but it was no big deal compared with some of the play Jules got into.

  Maybe she should hit a bar and find a woman to have sex with. Obviously the encounter with Kate had triggered a hunger she’d been smothering for too long. Jules often neglected her personal needs, prioritizing work ahead of all else. Gym workouts did not substitute for physical contact with another woman. That was why she’d decided to go to Palm Springs almost as soon as she’d returned from England.

  While she was overseas she was living in a college town, but very few of the lesbians she met were available. Everyone seemed to be in relationships. Jules wanted to avoid complication, and she was busy in her spare time anyway, studying and traveling. Somehow she just didn’t get around to having sex with a succession of women, as she’d anticipated.

  A disconcerting thought crossed her mind. What if her preoccupation with Kate wasn’t about sex, or even strong attraction? Another plausible explanation presented itself. Ego. A woman had said no to her and all hell was breaking loose. It would have been funny if her work wasn’t affected.

  Jules laughed. Was she so competitive by nature that she had to have a rematch? She wasn’t used to rejection, and she didn’t like it one bit. How often did she offer a woman something more, after they’d slept together? Never. Jules seldom had girlfriends and her recent attempts at “long-term” relationships hadn’t made it past their first anniversary. She liked to believe that she didn’t have the time or energy to keep a partner happy, but she knew there was more to it than that. If she was completely honest, her failures came down to making poor choices.

  It was one thing to avoid settling down in her twenties, but Jules was thirty-three and she wanted to be a success in every aspect of her life. Having the perfect relationship was an essential ingredient. With that goal in mind, she had stumbled into several live-in relationships with women who seemed to have the makings of good corporate wives. She hadn’t been in love with any of them, but that detail hadn’t bothered her. She didn’t suffer from illusions about love and romance. If magic happened that would be a bonus, but she didn’t expect any lightning bolts, and so far none had materialized.

  Jules was convinced that if two people shared similar goals and ideals they could build something worthwhile together. Her parents were a perfect example.

  She had once asked her mother about their early married life, whether they were madly in love and couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Clarice Valiant had looked at her like she’d lost her mind and said her marriage worked out fine because she and Jules’s dad had an understanding. Love had grown between them over the years, they had mutual respect, and they were good companions. Neither of them had expected fireworks when they married, so they had not suffered the disappointment that could afflict couples drawn together by mere animal attraction. One could not build a solid future on such shifting sands.

  This philosophy made sense to Jules. The Valiants were pragmatists and she was no exception. She owed her parents a great deal and had always been guided by their common sense. The opportunities she had in her own life were the result of their sacrifices. The very least she wanted to offer them now, having built the successful career they’d dreamed of, was the possibility of a grandchild. They had been devastated when she came out, not because they were homophobic, but because they believed their hopes of grandchildren were extinguished.

  They had never spoken a word to her about their disappointment, but Jules saw it in their faces whenever they mentioned new additions to the family. Nieces and nephews with new babies. Cousins marrying. Jules had a picture in her mind, a Thanksgiving where she was at the table with an amazing partner and they announced that they were expecting a baby. Her parents would be ecstatic, and so would she. Jules liked kids and wouldn’t mind having one if she could find the right woman to settle down with. So far, that wasn’t panning out too well.

  Her thoughts drifted back to Kate. Was the wife hunt a factor in her fixation, too? She didn’t know the woman at all, and “potential wife” was not what she’d seen in the bar that evening. All the same, after spending a night with Kate, she’d been willing to keep an open mind and see her again. She hadn’t expected to be turned down flat. If Kate had intended to inflame her desires by playing hard to get, it had worked. The trouble was, Jules didn’t think she was playing.

  She leaned back in her chair and weighed her options. She could impose self-discipline and wait for her libido to settle down. Or she could sleep with another woman and hope that would put the encounter with Kate into perspective. Or she could do what she really wanted to do—find the wretched woman and talk her into bed again.

  The solution was a no-brainer. Jules took her cell phone from her pocket and silently thanked Gilbert Desjardines for teaching her everything she knew about slippery
investigative techniques. Smiling to herself, she dialed Casitas Laquita and exchanged some pleasantries with Denise, one of the owners. Then she lied through her teeth.

  “Listen, the reason I’m calling is to ask a favor. I’m supposed to be hooking up with a woman I met last time I stayed. She was in the next room. Kate…er…”

  “Oh yes, I remember.” Denise didn’t supply the last name, as Jules had hoped.

  “Small problem.” Jules persevered. “I had her cell-phone number but it got washed with my jeans. I was wondering—”

  “You know I can’t give out guest information,” Denise interrupted with a note of regret. “I’m sorry.”

  “Of course. I would never ask that.” Jules thought fast. “Actually, I was wondering if you could send her something.”

  “Sure.”

  “I really like her,” Jules confided. She had been staying at the inn regularly for three years and never with the same woman. She and the two owners had sometimes shared a laugh about her footloose habits, and Jules was sure they would help her out with a real romance if they could. “I thought if I gave you my credit-card details, you could send her some flowers with my name and number. Then she’ll call me and we can make our plans.”

  “I don’t see why not,” Denise said after only a slight hesitation. “Red roses?”

  “No.” Jules wanted to send a more subtle message. “Make it peonies and irises.” Peonies were sensuous and romantic, and irises lasted longer than most cut flowers. They would come into bloom and look beautiful for days. Kate would be thinking about her every time she saw them.

  “I think she’ll like that combination,” Denise said. “She seems kind of sweet and old-fashioned.”

  Jules grinned. Now for her coup de grace. “There’s a florist in Vegas I like. They deliver everywhere. I’ll give you the number.”

  She felt sneaky as Denise read the phone number back to her and then took down the credit-card details. But she told herself all was fair in love and war, and even more so since this was a matter of lust and ego gratification.

  “What would you like the card to say?” Denise asked.

  “‘I can’t stop thinking about you.’ And my name, of course.”

  Denise chuckled. “You sound smitten.”

  “Just a little.” Jules hoped she sounded innocent. “Thanks for doing this. Oh, and don’t forget to have them put my cell number on the card, too…while you’re playing Cupid?”

  “No problem. I’ll call the order in right away.”

  “I owe you,” Jules said.

  Denise wished her luck, and Jules gave it thirty minutes, then phoned the florist. Sounding as vague as she could, she said, “I placed an order for flowers about a half hour ago. For Julia Valiant.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I have the order right here.” The clerk sounded young.

  “I just realized I might have given you the wrong information for the delivery. I’m sending gifts to a few people for my boss, and I think I was looking at the wrong name. Did I tell you a Mrs. Kelly Smith in Winchester?”

  “No, ma’am. This delivery is for Ms. Kate Lambert in Oatman, Arizona.”

  Jules scratched the information down. “Peonies and irises?”

  “Yes. Is the delivery information correct?”

  “Phew. Yes, it is. I thought I’d better check. My boss gets mad if I screw up.”

  The girl laughed. “I know what you’re talking about! They’ll be delivered on Monday. That’s the soonest FedEx can do it.”

  “Excellent. You’ve been very helpful.” On an impulse, Jules said, “One thing more. Could you include some miniature red roses. Just buds.”

  “Oh, the tiny ones? They are so cute!”

  “If there’s an additional charge, please add it to the card.” Jules ended the call and slid the phone back into her pocket, crowing, “Candy from a baby.”

  *

  Bonnie stormed across the back patio, through the open French doors into the kitchen, where Rhianna was feeding Alice.

  “That old fool!” She slumped down at the table. “Whatever I say, he’s got an answer.”

  Rhianna passed her a Coke. “He’s a lonely, stubborn old man. I think he’s just doing this to get attention.”

  “Well, he sure as hell got mine.” Bonnie cracked open the soda and gulped some down. Catching her small daughter’s transfixed stare, she calmed her voice and leaned over to kiss Alice’s head. “Mommy’s upset but there’s nothing to worry about. After you’ve had your lunch, we’re going to play with your farm animals.”

  “So he hasn’t done anything about it?” For Alice’s benefit, Rhianna kept her tone light as well.

  Their feud with Walter Entwhistle had started out as a boundary disagreement when the Mosses put up a new back fence just after Christmas. During the past two months, it had deteriorated into a standoff over his latest act of retaliation. Not only had he taken down ten feet of fence where he claimed it crossed into his land, but he’d replaced it with a huge pit. For several weeks the pit had grown wider and deeper by the day; then, all of a sudden, old man Entwhistle had hired some hands and started stripping out scrub and cactus from around his property. This had all ended up in the pit, an obvious hazard to people and animals.

  Lloyd and Percy had fenced off the Mosses’ side of the pit for safety, only to have Entwhistle knock the fence down, claiming it still encroached. Finally, yesterday, after a visit from the county sheriff, he’d erected a sign proclaiming Private Property—Trespassers Shot.

  Bonnie was beyond incensed. She’d tried reason, home-baked goods, and emotional blackmail about his late wife, whom she’d helped during the illness that finally claimed her life. She’d begged Entwhistle to consider Alice and Hadrian, who was hard of hearing and almost blind. All he could say was that if they stayed away from his property, she wouldn’t have anything to worry about.

  “I don’t understand why he’s doing this.” Bonnie was in tears. “We’ve been good neighbors to him.”

  “It’s four months since Mrs. Entwhistle passed,” Rhianna said. “I think he’s really feeling the loss and this is a big distraction for him. Some people create that for themselves when they’re not ready to deal with something deeper.”

  Bonnie sighed. “I know. I’m trying to be understanding, but just go down there and take a look. Those barrel cactus with prickly pear piled on top, some of them have spikes three inches long. And he’s started dumping all the waste from his henhouse there, too. We won’t be using the hot tub anytime soon. Very romantic, sitting under the stars breathing in the smell of chicken poop.”

  Rhianna groaned. “Did he say when he was planning to fill it in?”

  “Oh, he rambled on about mulching after summer when it’s had a chance to rot down some. I get the impression he’s not in any hurry.”

  “I could try talking with him,” Rhianna offered. “He always waves if he sees me and Alice.”

  “No, he already thinks we’re ganging up on him. Anyway, it’s not your problem. Lloyd and I need to deal with him.” Bonnie peeled a banana, her round face crinkled in puzzlement. “He could have dug that pit anywhere. He’s got all that land east of this place, and the hill out west.”

  “Yes, but then we wouldn’t have to pay him any mind.” Rhianna wiped Alice’s face and hands with a washcloth, picked some noodles from her dark honey curls, and released her from the chair harness.

  As soon as she was steady on her feet, the little girl toddled into the den and opened her toy box. Dragging out plastic cows and horses, she called, “Mommy, look.”

  “I’m coming, sweetie. Get all the pieces out for the big barn and we’ll do some building.” Bonnie got to her feet and asked Rhianna, “Are you still going to Denver next week?”

  “Yes, on Wednesday.” Rhianna’s stomach bunched. “I’m really sorry.”

  “It’s fine. We knew you had this commitment when we hired you.”

  “I hope it’s only for a week or two. I’ll call as soon as
I know.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll probably be back home before we are.”

  Bonnie and Lloyd had decided to go to Europe on vacation before they heard she needed to be away again, this time for weeks. Rhianna had offered to resign when the trial date was finally confirmed rather than cause a problem for her good-hearted employers. She had warned them ahead of time that she had personal matters to attend to in Denver and would be traveling back and forth to resolve these. She had been intentionally vague, and they had never probed. The Mosses had always made it clear that they respected her privacy.

  “Kate.” A troubled look appeared in Bonnie’s eyes. “I’m not sure how to say this. But Lloyd and I care about you. You’re much more than an employee to us and I wish…I mean, if you ever need to talk, or if you need help…” She hesitated. “If you have financial worries…anything. Please don’t be embarrassed to tell us. We’re here for you.”

  Rhianna sighed. Obviously her employers knew she was hiding something. How could they not? Smart, attractive young women did not suddenly decide to become nannies and take jobs miles from anywhere.

  As Bonnie stared at her, Rhianna decided to acknowledge what was unspoken. “Things aren’t as simple as I’ve said,” she began awkwardly. “I know you can see that. But I promise you, I’m not a bad person. I haven’t done anything that I need to run from.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that.” A flush crept over Bonnie’s cheeks. “I know you’re a good person. No one can hide their true self all of the time.” She closed her fingers gently over Rhianna’s arm. “You remind me a lot of a woman I used to work with. She disappeared seven years ago and I never saw her again. For weeks, I had a feeling something was wrong but I didn’t ask. You know how that is—you don’t want to be nosy. But I always wished I had. I think she needed help, but she didn’t know who she could trust.”