Never Too Late

by Julie Blair

  “Yes, with my husband…um, ex-husband…oh, heck, I don’t know what to call him,” Carla said, as they were shown to a corner table on the patio that was nearly full. A few sprigs of lavender sat in a small vase in the center of the white tablecloth. A waiter set a basket of bread and menus in front of them.

  “I know a great divorce attorney if you need one,” Vanessa said, her expression unreadable. After Carla’s explanation, her playful smile returned.

  “For a minute there I was worried I was on a date with a married woman.”

  “Date.” The word felt huge as Carla said it.

  “Well, technically it’s our second date.” Vanessa winked and chased it with a smile as she passed Carla the wine list. “You choose,” she said, in a voice both sultry and full of authority.

  “Um, sure.” Carla looked down the list, trying to gauge what Vanessa would like. Mike usually did this part. Vanessa’s face was close enough for Carla to see the dark flecks in the slate-blue eyes.

  “I was married, Carla, so I understand what you’re going through. I take it you’ve just recently converted?” Vanessa brushed her hand through her hair. A ring with a large green stone gave weight to long, slender fingers.

  Carla remembered what those fingers felt like against the nape of her neck. “I like that term. And yes, very recently.” She signaled the waiter and gave her selection.

  “I hated the phrase ‘coming out.’” Vanessa snickered. “It made me feel like a Southern debutante…like I should be wearing a pink dress with too much taffeta.”

  “I did wear a dress like that to my prom.”

  “I thought I detected a bit of the South in your voice.”

  Carla nodded her approval when the waiter presented her with the bottle. He filled their glasses with the pale Prosecco, and bubbles raced each other to the top. Vanessa’s throat lengthened as she tilted her head back and took a long sip. “Very nice.”

  Carla swallowed hard and reached for her glass—so many places to kiss along that throat. “So, how did you…”

  “Convert?” Vanessa’s eyes twinkled.

  “Is it rude of me to ask?”

  “Not at all. But it is a rather clichéd story. Christmas party. Champagne. Flirting from an attractive junior attorney. More champagne. More flirting. Kiss. Hotel room.” Vanessa ticked off each point on her fingers. “Boy, was I surprised, but it explained a lot about my marriage.”

  Was her experience with Jamie not that unusual? She hoped Vanessa wouldn’t ask how she’d gone from married to dating women. Sleeping with your boss, now that was clichéd.

  Vanessa slipped off her jacket to reveal the tailored lavender blouse, every curve deliciously obvious. “Here’s to happy endings and new beginnings.” Vanessa lifted her glass to Carla’s.

  Carla took a generous sip of Prosecco and stole a glance at the revealed cleavage. She glanced up to see a knowing look on Vanessa’s face. This new freedom to look at women might be dangerous. Heat crawled up her throat.

  “I’m flattered by your appreciation.” Vanessa’s eyes held Carla’s, soft and inviting. “It is appreciation, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” The flush crept up her cheeks and Carla looked away. She was confused at the attraction she felt to Vanessa. At the bar she’d assumed it was just the sensual assault of dancing with a woman. But in daylight her body was just as mutinous. Was she in love with Jamie or just hanging on to an old infatuation?

  “Why don’t you order for us? Any pasta for me. I’ll just sit here and watch you.” Vanessa closed the menu and draped her arm across the back of Carla’s chair.

  Carla’s eyes followed the movement of Vanessa’s blouse snugging across her breasts as if she had no control over them. She heard Vanessa’s soft laugh as she studied the menu, trying to find the pasta dish at the nearby table that smelled so delicious. She was rescued when the waiter stopped at their table and recited the specials. “We’ll both have the pasta special,” Carla said, as Vanessa nodded her approval.

  “Dating women takes some getting used to…in the mechanics of who does what, I mean. Relax, Carla.” Vanessa caressed the back of her neck. “I already like you.”

  Carla took a deep breath, reminding herself she was reinventing her life and was entitled to stumble along the path to finding what she wanted. “So, I take it your conversion didn’t last. Oh, gosh, that’s not quite what I meant.”

  “Well, the conversion did but the woman didn’t. We were a couple for about a year. Then she got offered her dream job and off to D.C. she went. It took a while but we’re great friends now.” Vanessa’s fingers traced a circle on the tablecloth and her expression softened. “It’s hard to know what to do with all those feelings. I guess it makes sense to recycle them into friendship that can be satisfying in its own way. That odd ex-lovers-as-best-friends thing that lesbians do.”

  “Mmm. I guess.” Was that what she and Jamie were doing? Would it be satisfying? And what would she do with all those inconvenient feelings? “What?” she asked, when she realized Vanessa was talking.

  “I was saying I’ve been dating off and on for the last year, but I’d like to find someone to settle down with.” Her eyes became serious.

  “So, your daughter’s in Boston?” Carla asked, as the waiter set plates in front of them. She nodded when he held a block of Parmesan and grater over her plate.

  “Nice diversion.” Vanessa’s eyes took on a teasing quality. “Don’t worry. I won’t get serious on you too soon. That’s one lesbian cliché I can do without.”

  Carla wasn’t sure what she meant. There was apparently a lot about lesbian culture she hadn’t picked up from Lissa and Steph. Flavors of garlic and basil burst on her tongue with the first bite.

  They spent the rest of the meal in amiable conversation. Vanessa’s daughter had played lacrosse, which led to shared stories about being sports moms. Vanessa didn’t like to cook but loved to eat if Carla was offering. She loved jazz and opera and hated rock. Carla covered her heart in shock when Vanessa said yes, even Melissa Etheridge. She was indifferent to coffee, Carla discovered, as they sipped espressos and shared chocolate mousse.

  “I had a great time, Carla.” Vanessa tucked her arm into the bend of Carla’s elbow as they strolled down the sidewalk. “If I knew of somewhere for us to go dancing I’d suggest it.”

  “I had a good time, too.” Carla’s excitement lost some of its effervescence. Dancing would have been fun. Vanessa’s body was warm against hers and she slipped her arm around Carla’s waist. The feel of a woman’s body against hers was still a novelty, and she let arousal surge up.

  “Would I insult you if I invited you back to my place? I don’t want to spook you away from another date, but I do have some great music. Not that noise we danced to in San Diego.” Vanessa’s hips moved in a sensual rhythm against hers. “Have you ever danced to Ella?”

  “No.” Carla’s mouth was too dry to say more as heat erupted in her center. Was it a good idea to go to her home? They stopped at Carla’s car, and the question slipped from her mind as Vanessa’s arm slid over her shoulders. The gentle smile did nothing to stop the nervous tingle that devoured her. She was going to be kissed by a woman. She ignored the fact it wasn’t Jamie as desire made her skin feel scorched. Vanessa’s lips were soft and warm, her tongue more so when she slid past Carla’s lips. She gripped Vanessa’s waist as her legs went weak.

  “Come home with me. Just dancing, I promise.”

  “I should go…” Vanessa’s breasts were soft against hers. Carla’s breath stuttered in her chest. “All right.”

  “Follow me. I promise I won’t lose you.”

  Carla pulled in behind Vanessa in a gated community of upscale condos. Vanessa walked toward her car, and Carla couldn’t pull her eyes from the sway of her hips. Before her mind caught up to her body she was out of her car and in Vanessa’s arms, kissing her. Soft lips, probing tongue, warm mouth. The taste of Prosecco and strawberries and chocolate. The smell of her musky perfum
e. The feel of her stomach against Carla’s, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. Carla broke the kiss and rested her forehead against Vanessa’s, as sensations she hadn’t felt in twenty years overwhelmed her. She wanted to rip her sweater off. A cool palm against her cheek steadied her.

  “Let’s take this upstairs.” She slid her arm around Carla’s waist and led them down a walkway.

  “Are you a cognac drinker?” Vanessa tossed her jacket over the back of an expensive-looking chair upholstered in pale-green fabric. The whole room was tastefully decorated. Dim recessed lighting revealed an impressive number of paintings around the living room, most of them seascapes. There was the sound of a needle dropping onto a record, and then music filled the room.

  “Ella,” Vanessa said, as she reached around Carla’s waist from behind, a tumbler in her hand.

  Carla took the glass and a long swallow as Vanessa’s pelvis nestled against her. Carla dropped her head back against Vanessa’s shoulder and let her lead as they swayed to the romantic melody, her hand warm against Carla’s stomach as she caressed in slow circles. Carla’s body relaxed like melting butter. The glass was lifted from her, and then she was turned, and they were embracing. Softness and curves, warm breath on her cheek, Vanessa humming softly in her ear.

  Carla needed more. She slid her mouth against Vanessa’s cheek until she found her lips. She moaned when her tongue met no resistance. Fingering the hair at Vanessa’s collar, Carla devoured her mouth, while Vanessa’s hand slid up her side and stroked the outside of Carla’s breast. They swayed and kissed and caressed until another song ended.

  “You’re beautiful, sexy, and easy to be with.” Vanessa’s words were quiet, her lips warm against Carla’s ear. “I’d love to hear that Southern accent as a passionate whisper in my ear.”

  Carla tensed, and her fingers tightened on Vanessa’s collar. Was that what she wanted?

  “But I don’t want to rush things with you.”

  Carla’s mind collapsed around the words. She was ablaze with sensations—heat like a furnace in her center, breasts that felt heavy, skin flushed anywhere that could flush. She rested her forehead on Vanessa’s shoulder, breathing fast, and fighting back tears.

  Vanessa’s hands returned to her back, warm and strong and reassuring as they rubbed up and down her spine. A shiver went through Carla’s overheated body as she let Vanessa hold her, wrapped in softness and perfume.

  Finally, Vanessa stepped back and held her hands. “Can I see you again?”

  Carla nodded as she struggled for control.

  Vanessa walked Carla to her car and kissed her softly. “Drive safely. I’ll call you next week.”

  “I’d like that.” Carla’s heart was pounding, and she fumbled to get the key in the lock. By the time she reached the freeway she was shaking—not just her hands but her whole body. She lowered the window, letting the freeway noise numb her mind and the cold air cool her skin. She was aroused and confused. She’d wanted Vanessa. She wanted Jamie.

  She put on Melissa the minute she walked into her home and paced in her kitchen, wanting coffee one minute, then opening the refrigerator deciding she really wanted wine and then leafing through a new cooking magazine on the counter, trying to make her mind focus on something. Her emotions fought for her attention like little kids. Relief she was in her own home, then disappointment she was in her own home.

  Frustration for no good reason made her go back to grinding coffee beans, which made her childishly angry because it wasn’t Kona. Confusion drove her into the chair Jamie had sat in just a few days ago. Dating was what she would have to do if she was going to have the life she wanted—a life of passion, taking care of someone and being taken care of, weaving all the little moments in a day into a lifetime of connection. But would she survive wrenching her heart away from Jamie so it could search for someone else?

  Back at the refrigerator for wine, she felt more confused than ever. If this was what lesbians did—became friends with their ex-lovers and moved on to dating someone else—then she’d have to get used to the program.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “Ouch.” Jamie kicked the high-heeled shoe digging into her toe because she couldn’t see it under Sheryl’s clothes strewn all over the closet floor. She pulled on her favorite purple running shorts. Sitting on the chair by the closet, she laced up her shoes, cursing that she’d overslept and didn’t have time for the hot tub. Muscles she hadn’t used in years were complaining.

  Bracing herself against the kitchen counter, Jamie stretched her quads while she waited for the bagel to toast. She looked longingly at the espresso machine, but coffee before a run wasn’t a good idea.

  “The bathroom sink isn’t draining right. Can you take a look at it?”

  “I will later. I’m late.” The bagel popped up and Jamie spread butter and blueberry jam over it.

  “But—”

  “Lift the stopper out. There’s probably hair clogging the drain. I’ll see you later.” Jamie kissed Sheryl on the cheek, grabbed her keys, and hurried to the door, the bagel wrapped in a napkin.

  “Where are you going? I thought we could go to breakfast and then over to the mall.”

  Jamie stopped. “You’re not going to brunch?”

  “Boycotting today. I can’t hang out with friends who aren’t loyal. Last week at a meeting they actually talked to that bitch who’s trying to steal my promotion.”

  “I’m sorry.” Jamie rubbed the back of her neck. Should she cancel out on the run? They’d gotten past the argument Friday night, but Sheryl had spent yesterday with the principal she was working on the project with. They could use time together but she’d promised Sara and Carla.

  “Why can’t you just go later?”

  “I’m meeting Sara and my office manager.” Guilt flared that she wasn’t telling Sheryl who she was.

  “Aren’t you the one who wanted us to spend more time together?”

  “You’ve gone to brunch every Sunday morning for the last couple months.” She looked at the clock above the sink.

  “Can you at least make me a cappuccino before you go?” Sheryl brushed her hand over Jamie’s back as she walked by.

  Jamie gritted her teeth. Would they wait for her? “Sure.” She set her stuff on the counter and turned the espresso machine on. A minute later the house was filled with the voice of a male country singer.

  “Do you want to go shopping with me when you get back? I want to get a jump on my winter wardrobe.” Sheryl sat at the dining table, leafing through a magazine.

  “You’re buying winter clothes when it’s going to be eighty degrees today?” Jamie ground beans and packed the portafilter. She tightened it in place and drummed her fingers on the counter as she waited for the indicator light to come. The machine screeched as coffee filled the cup one slow drop at a time.

  “Fashion is always a season ahead. If you shopped more often you’d know that.”

  Jamie held the stainless-steel container so the frothing wand forced steam into the nonfat milk. As soon as the thermometer read one hundred forty degrees she shut off the machine and spooned the frothed milk over the coffee. She handed Sheryl the coffee and kissed her.

  “Call me when you’re done.”

  “Okay.” Jamie dashed out the door and then had to come back for the stuff on the counter. She could have her own friends and still spend time with Sheryl. This could work.

  *

  “We were wondering if you were standing us up.” Carla’s eyes strayed to Jamie’s calves and worked their way up. She refused to let them go above her waist to the snug-fitting T-shirt. Sure she would blush if she stared one more minute at those bare legs, she went back to stretching her quads. This wasn’t a date, but it was the first time she’d been with Jamie in public since the party, and pretending wasn’t breaking any rules.

  “What, are you two twins?” Sara pointed at their identical white T-shirts with Midtown Women’s Center in red on the front.

  �
�Renee,” Jamie and Carla said at once.

  “5k fundraiser a few years ago,” Carla said.

  “Oh, that Renee.” Sara rolled her eyes.

  “What are the odds we didn’t run into each other?” Jamie braced against the tree and stretched her calves. “You sure your back’s okay?”

  Carla jumped in place and then bent forward, touching her toes. When she straightened she caught Jamie looking at her legs. The black running tights had been a good choice. “All good. Race you,” she said, taking off.

  Sara set a challenging pace, but by the end of the first mile Carla relaxed into the rhythmic pounding of her feet on the trail that wound through scattered oak trees and open grassy areas along the creek. Holding her shoulders back she matched her breathing to her gait and fell into that space where her mind relaxed and her attention was all on her body. Sara and Jamie were involved in a conversation about running shoes when a lizard darted across the trail and a dog on a leash lunged for it. Jamie and Sara sidestepped the dog, but Carla got tangled in the leash and started to go down. Jamie grabbed for her and caught a handful of her T-shirt. She let go as Carla righted herself.

  “Are you okay?” Sara’s hand on her back pulled Carla from her spell as the woman pulled the leash free of her legs, apologizing to Carla and scolding the dog.

  “Fine.” Carla tried to shake off the feel of Jamie’s hand against her breast as they resumed the run, but it took her a while to find her rhythm again.

  “Anyone up for breakfast?” Carla asked, as they walked around to cool down.

  “I’m on a diet until the competition,” Sara said.

  “I’m sure you can get egg whites and cottage cheese,” Carla said. This morning wasn’t going to end here if she could help it.

  Jamie checked her watch. “I’d like to but—”

  “Great. Let’s walk.” Carla made sure she was next to Jamie as they crossed the bridge over Highway 17 and walked into downtown Los Gatos. Yes, her body had responded to Vanessa but there was nowhere she’d rather be than next to Jamie. If she was lucky she’d have the afternoon with her, too. Tomorrow she’d make friends with reality again.