“What are you girls drinking?” he said.
“Beer, and I don’t care what kind,” Jordan answered, scanning the food.
“Me too, and thank George for us. What is this?” Brie asked.
“I’m not telling until you taste it,” he said with a wide grin as they both cut into the meat and took a bite.
“It’s heaven.” Jordan closed her eyes and chewed.
Brie immediately loved it and was shocked to find herself starving as the fragrant food woke her appetite. “This is excellent.”
“George’s special cut of beef,” he said. “See the sauce? He marinates it for hours and then adds those little potatoes with fresh peas, the pearl onions sprinkled over it all. Brie, the salad has the mystery dressing you’ve always loved.”
His eyes were kind. The last time she had eaten George’s food had been at a party that she and Niki had hosted and he had catered. Patrick’s face said he remembered too.
“This is outrageous, Patrick.” Jordan took another bite. “Thanks.”
He grinned and looked at Brie with a question on his face before he disappeared into the kitchen. Jordan raised her eyebrows at the look.
“He’s just wondering about me,” Brie said. “We need to catch up and it’s been months.” She took another bite, thoroughly enjoying the taste. “Did you say you hide out here?”
“Sometimes my mother sends people looking for me, but they haven’t found me…yet. This would be the last place they’d look.”
“Looking for you?”
Jordan held up a finger, closing her eyes again as she chewed. Brie stopped, entranced, watching the long eyelashes fall on tanned cheeks. Lovely, despite the eye. The enjoyment on Jordan’s face was almost sensual and Brie took yet another deep breath.
“Mom has…” Jordan said, interrupting Brie’s thoughts. “Mom…has special dinners now and then, and she wants me there. That’s why she sends people looking for me.”
Brie saw that Jordan didn’t want to talk about this, so she went for something less personal.
“Have you been a carpenter for a long time?”
“Okay, long story short. I was an eighth grade schoolteacher for five years, but I swear, even though I enjoyed it, the wood called to me. I know it sounds dopey, maybe even crazy, but sometimes when I’d walk outside after school, I could smell the wood. Finally, when Tyler started school full time, I threw in the towel and went back to construction. My uncle brought me in as a full partner.” Jordan looked up and Brie saw a glimpse of pride slide across her face before the smile took over. “My dad’s dead and there’s just Mom, but she’s a piece of work. She’s going to blame this eye on the job, and I want at least one more beer before I face her.” Her face was suddenly shy, warming Brie’s heart. “I’ve never told anyone about that business with the wood.”
Brie held her hand over her chest. “I swear, your secret’s safe with me.”
“What about you?”
“You’re going to laugh. Teacher.”
Jordan chuckled. “Where?”
“Sparta,” Brie said. She realized her plate was empty and the salad was gone. It had been months since she’d eaten this much, and she was still hungry.
“Sparta? The private university?” Jordan stopped eating, looking interested. “You’re a professor?”
“Political theory and history. I’ve cut back for the last couple years, a sort of sabbatical, so I’m only teaching two courses right now. I also volunteer for Omni as an EMS.”
“No wonder you’re so…slender. That’s intense stuff, all of it.”
“No, college isn’t intense. I’ve been doing that for a long time.” Brie slid her plate to the side. “I’m just a volunteer at Omni, a learner with the EMS job. However, I’ve just become fully qualified to drive the ambulance with lights and sirens. I’ll probably wreck it the first time out.”
“I think that’s a lot, Brie. A professor? That book of yours in my truck has your name on the cover.”
Brie nodded. “The old publish-or-perish stuff. Sometimes I use my own work as a source.” She looked up to see George leaning against the wall watching her, and motioned him over. “What’s for dessert, best of the chefs?”
Quiet and intense, George was as small as Patrick was big. Brie had always felt close to him. He came over, resting against the booth.
“You need to put on some weight, Brie. But you know that.”
“Find some of that wonderful raspberry torte thing I know you have back there,” Brie teased. “That’s worth a million calories.”
He gave them both a sweet smile and reappeared a few minutes later with the dessert. Brie thought she was going to drool and looked at Jordan. They gave each other wide grins and dug in. Finally, shoving plates away, they both leaned back and sighed.
Jordan exhaled. “What a feast! Truthfully, I’ve only eaten hamburgers here. Little did I know.”
“He is the finest cook I know and an interesting man. You should talk with him. He has fascinating stories.”
Jordan looked at the crowd in the restaurant. “Too bad he’s gay. You sound like you connect.”
“We do connect,” Brie said and followed Jordan’s eyes out across the room.
Jordan leaned across the table with a little knowing smile. “Listen, the men in here have been checking you out. They must fall over like empty beer bottles when you walk by. Those dimples and eyes.”
It wasn’t the knowing smile that made Brie’s breath hitch or her face color. It was the unexpected flash of sensuality in Jordan’s eyes. Something deep inside Brie moved.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Just stating the obvious,” Jordan said with a puzzled expression. “Anyway, could we do this again? Eat, I mean. It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone that I’m fairly certain has a brain.”
Brie nodded. “Sure, I’ve enjoyed this too.” She narrowed her eyes, baiting Jordan a bit. “Or are you just after George’s special raspberry torte?”
They both laughed and Brie liked the warmth caught in Jordan’s laughter. She took a card out of her purse, handing it across the table. “Here, take this.”
Jordan studied it. “Doctor?”
“Well, yes, to teach…”
“That’s right, college level.”
*
Brie turned the lights on in her dark house and realized that she’d forgotten to ask about Jordan’s husband. Actually, unlike most married women, Jordan hadn’t volunteered any information. And what was the business about the wallet? The ring? Well, I still wear Niki’s ring. Brie wrapped her arms around herself, remembering how good those arms had felt—and that spectacular smile. And then those eyes, with that flash of sensual…experience? “Whew,” she said. She whistled a little, heading for the shower.
How long it had been since she’d been out to eat? Just a meal, nothing special. She scrubbed her hair, suds rolling over her face and body as she counted. Over six months, she was sure. She leaned into the water, rinsing. Where had everyone gone to?
Wrapped in an old robe, she went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine, something else she hadn’t done in forever. She turned on her office lights and settled at her desk. She actually felt a little energy. It had been absent so long that she hadn’t recognized it. Now that she was officially off the Omni volunteer list until next week, she’d have plenty of time to set up an outline for the graduate class that began Monday. Maybe even a little work on her book, her fiction. In addition to her academic work, Brie had published two historical mysteries and the second book had been a bestseller. She had signed on for a third novel and written over twenty thousand words, but had lost it when she and Niki had been shot. Along with everything else, she thought. Her fingers hovered over the computer keys. She hadn’t looked at it since before Niki’s murder. She exhaled and opened the file, beginning to read.
Finally, she finished and closed the file. “A beginning, but that’s about all.” She looked at the cal
endar. She had to see her editor soon. Twenty-eight thousand words wasn’t nearly enough. She could only remember bits and pieces of why she’d started this third book in the series. The story was based on old letters Niki had found in a house she and her father had demolished. She frowned at the computer. She couldn’t even remember where the box of letters was. Tomorrow. She’d look for them tomorrow.
Idly, she opened the book she’d been reading earlier in the park and found the paragraph she’d been studying. Seven years ago, when this work had been published, she and Niki had argued over the writing. Niki felt it should have been broken up for more drama. Brie had argued that the work was academic, structured for information, not fiction. She wanted the facts up front, letting the drama lurk under the data. Niki had debated wonderfully, always staying on point, keeping her quick temper in check.
For three days they had quarreled, bickered, and wrangled. Finally, Niki had shoved her down on the bed, talking old politics as she had slowly taken their clothes off and loved her until she’d screamed. Niki had risen up over her, both of them dripping with sweat and sex. “I give up. The writing stays as you want it and I lose the battle,” she had said suggestively, sliding her fingers inside again, “but I win the war.”
“If you’d asked ten minutes ago, I’d have said yes to anything,” Brie had answered, gasping.
The words blurred again and she closed the book. “Damn,” she said at the irritating tears. She turned off the lights and went in search of more ibuprofen.
Careful of her painful left side, she reached for the picture on the nightstand. It was a photo of the two of them, leaning into each other, her arms draped over Niki’s shoulders, pulling Niki back into her, Niki’s hair curling down toward those wonderful breasts.
“Hi, girl. Missed you today, but what’d you think of her? Jordan…a pretty name. A question mark, but maybe a friend? She feels warm and smart but she doesn’t feel married. Better tell her I don’t do men, don’t you think? I’ve totally lost my gaydar. I could have sworn she batted for our team.” She laughed a little and then was quiet, thinking. “Niki…it felt good to be held again.”
Brie took a deep breath, listening for Niki’s distinctive words but, as usual, heard nothing. She replaced the photo on the nightstand and turned over onto her back, hoping for sleep. It found her.
*
“Yes.” Brie pulled in a sudden deep breath as Niki’s fingers traced a long, slow, torturous path from her lips to the hollow of her throat, over her collarbone, and around each nipple.
Brie pushed against the hot, smooth skin as Niki whispered, “I need you.”
“I’m here, don’t stop. There. Yes.” Brie gasped as a warm, familiar mouth settled on her breast, tongue teasing the nipple until it hurt and fingers grazed her belly, down inside her thighs. Only Niki could take her here, arouse her so fast that by the time her fingers slid inside, she was fully wet. Tongue and fingers moved in unison and Brie opened her legs wider.
“Yes.” She shuddered as the pressure finally exploded, sending her off the bed, grabbing for the familiar body but finding only pillows.
“No,” she groaned into the pillow, “Niki, no.” Shuddering, she held the pillow tightly as a second, deep orgasm shook her again.
“Dammit, dammit, godammit.” She sobbed, holding on to the pillow so hard her fingers hurt and pain shot down her injured side. Finally, her body stopped shaking and she sat up carefully, wiping her wet face. She felt as dark as the room. She pushed off the bed and started toward the bathroom for a shower to clean herself. Even the bed was wet.
The ibuprofen was still on the counter. She took one and stepped into the shower, scrubbed herself with soap, rinsed, and turned the water to cold. It had been at least seven or eight months since the last dream. “Shit.” She gritted her teeth against the cold water. Every part of her ached.
Chapter Five
The late summer day was giving way to night as Jordan parked the big pickup inside the fenced enclosure. John was on his way out but saw her and stopped. They stood together and watched the lights come on in the city.
“What’s the word on your eye?” John asked and took a fresh cigar from his pocket.
“I’m good to go. Just looks like the devil. The darned doctor messed with it.” She went silent, looking out at the lake.
“And?”
“I met the woman at Urgent Care, the one I hit in the park today on the skateboard, and took her out to eat. Unique. A nice lady, a professor and an EMS volunteer.”
“Right up your alley, a professor,” he said and smiled.
“I do love books. By the way, do you remember where I hang out when I’m avoiding Mom?”
“Sure, the old drive-in out on Sheridan Road.” He took a drag on the cigar and blew out a cloud of blue smoke.
“We went there and had the best dinner I’ve had in forever. She knows both of the owners, Patrick and George.”
John gave a short laugh. “Patrick’s a good man. He did the audit on our company last year, and yes, I know he’s gay.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, he is. Mom would never think of that place.”
When Jordan’s dad had died unexpectedly, her mother was left with three children and immediately sought comfort in the church. Jordan, the youngest at seven, was already rebelling against her rigid, church-inclined mother. John and his wife, Nancy, had offered to help out and then just never let her go. She’d lived in their house until she went to college.
“Well, have to go check on my babies,” she said with a little laugh. “Wouldn’t that tick Tyler off if he knew I called him a baby?”
“Put ice on that eye,” John yelled after her. Jordan heard him and waved but didn’t turn around.
*
Jordan drove slowly past her house. The only lights on her mother’s side were in the den. She checked out the street and her mother’s driveway. No extra cars. Her mother’s latest attempt to find her a man hadn’t been a bad effort. But interesting? No. Nothing except carving and her kids seemed to catch her mind these days. Well, except for the bright, beautiful woman she had crashed into today. Brie O’Malley was interesting.
She walked up the sidewalk to her door and glanced at her dark studio. She hesitated. No. It was too late. Her father had built the studio and this house two years before she was born. When she was small she had played in the studio while he carved. She loved the way the light slanted down from the skylights and through its odd, square windows. The smell of the wood. The sound of rain on its slate roof. But most of all, she loved the carving.
Jordan looked at the house. When her older brothers had grown up, her mother was left here, alone. Several years later, when Jordan’s husband, Pete, had been killed, her mother had asked Jordan and the kids to come and live with her. At first, she had resisted, and then it had seemed like the most sensible thing in the world. Her mother was getting older and though she could be aloof, often rigid, she was dependable.
Uncle John had stepped in and remodeled the entire north wing of the house for Jordan. He had added a kitchen, a den, an office, a double garage, and her own entrance. So far, it had worked. As long as they stayed out of each other’s way, Jordan thought. The only time they had fought was when she quit teaching school and went into the construction business. However, her mother’s dinners and the men had just about driven her wild. She shook her head and unlocked the door.
Once in the house, she checked her children. Jenna was asleep the wonderful way kids sleep. Totally and wholly. Her blond hair was curled against the pillow, blanket up to her ears. Jordan sat on the bed carefully, laying her fingers lightly on the silky hair, Pete’s hair. “Good night, baby,” she whispered, bending to kiss the warm little cheek.
Tyler was sprawled on his stomach, brown hair hanging over his face and a baseball gripped in his fingers. Jordan gently pried it loose and set it on the desk. She kissed his hair and pulled the door half closed behind her.
With a deep breath, she braced hersel
f to confront her mother. The gray light of the television flickered in the dim room. She coughed so she wouldn’t startle her. “Mom?” she said.
Charlotte Kelly was stretched out in a big recliner, the gray in her hair reflecting the light off the television. “Take those boots off, Jordan. I won’t tolerate construction dirt in this house. You can do what you want on your side but not mine.”
“Sorry, just wanted to let you know I’m home. Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She turned to go but her mother spoke. “Jordan, the kids were wonderful today. We baked cookies. Isn’t Jenna beautiful?”
“She’s Pete’s twin, Mom. Yes, she is.”
“How are you doing?” her mother said kindly, something Jordan didn’t hear very often. She stopped, mindful of her eye.
“Fine, thanks for asking.” She waited, puzzled.
“I’m going to take a trip.”
“What?”
“I’m sure you remember that my mother was born in Ireland, close to Dublin. Someone from church is going over there and I’m going too. I’d like to see where my mother was born and the rest of my family that is still there. I’m not getting any younger.”
Jordan thought before she answered. This was a loaded statement from her mother. “None of us are, Mom. You should go. When?”
“The end of next week.”
“Next week?” Jordan repeated, caught off guard. “Go, Mom. Enjoy. John and Nancy will help with the kids. Is there anything I can do?”
“I talked to Nancy today. I’ve been thinking of this for a while, picking up things here and there. I’m almost ready and even have my passport.”
“I’m glad you’re going. Have a good time.”
“Thank you.” Her mother nodded. “That’s all, dear. Have a good night’s sleep.”
“Mom,” Jordan said walked around so her mother could see her fully. “I had an accident in the park today, while I was showing Tyler how to manage that new skateboard. I’ve got a black eye and thought I should tell you before you saw it and wondered what happened.”
Collision Course Page 3