by Radclyffe
*
They moved about gathering their clothes after a perfunctory, purely functional shower—the scarcity of hot water had precluded anything else. Separated for the first time in twelve hours, Jude watched silently as Sax toweled off and reached for her jeans. The physical distance between them brought both a disorienting sense of loss and an abrupt reemergence of reality. The night was gone, the connection they had shared nearly as fleeting as that distant moment at Bellevue when Jude had surrendered to Saxon Sinclair the first time.
“I don’t know what to say,” Jude admitted softly as she pulled on her T-shirt. What does this mean? What happens next?
Sax paused with her fly half buttoned. “Is there something you need to say?”
Jude thought about it. There should be, shouldn’t there? You don’t just make love with someone for hours and then simply carry on, do you? She looked at Sax who was regarding her steadily. Waiting.
“Yes, there is.” Jude walked the few feet to Sax and put both hands on her face, cradling her jaw, fingers resting on her cheeks. Then she kissed her—tenderly at first, then more deeply, until Sax’s hands came gently to her waist and pulled her near. They stood holding one another for a long moment after their lips parted, breathing each other in.
Then, as if by mutual agreement, they walked to the door and stepped out into the morning.
Chapter Twenty
If it hadn’t been for the lingering desire that the night had stirred but barely sated, Jude might have been lulled to sleep by the sun and the steady drone of the engine. But with her arms around Sax’s waist and the scent of her so sharp where her cheek lay close to Sax’s neck, Jude couldn’t do anything but think of her. And thinking of her always seemed to bring a thousand images cascading into her consciousness, probably because before the previous afternoon she had observed Sax so many times on tape—often unawares, when she was most exposed. When she was most intriguing.
Those glimpses of the surgeon were fixed in her mind and powerful enough all by themselves to make her stomach clench, but now she carried the imprint of the woman on her skin, and inside her body. The visceral memory of Sax naked beside her, above her, stole Jude’s breath and threatened to demolish her composure. I need to get a grip or I’m going to embarrass both of us.
Sax felt Jude clutch her convulsively and shouted into the wind, “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Jude shouted back. Not really, but I will be as soon as I find where I left my sanity.
“We’ll be there soon.” Thinking her passenger was probably just exhausted, Sax rested one gloved hand reassuringly over Jude’s where it lay against her stomach. It surprised her to discover that she liked Jude’s warm, solid presence behind her on the bike.
Often she rode to escape the residue of her work—to leave behind the frustrations of bureaucracy or to block out a particularly devastating trauma—but sometimes, most times really, she rode because she just couldn’t rest. Eventually the rhythm of the highway passing underneath her and the demands of handling the big machine would relax her. Oddly, Jude’s nearness accomplished the same thing, although feeling her curved close behind almost as they’d been in bed a few hours before did a bit more than just relax her.
Thankfully, her mind was clearer than it had been the previous night, because the pressure of Jude’s breasts against her back brought a smile to her lips and a very lovely picture to mind, but at least she wasn’t in danger of driving off the road and killing them both. A little low-level arousal she could handle. She hoped. Where Jude was concerned, it seemed that she had no warning when some totally unexpected surge of...desire seemed too civilized a word for what Jude made her feel—hunger, perhaps—would flare and burn wildly through her, vaporizing most of her control, too. Perhaps now that they’d had that one night, the fury would pass. She didn’t have time to wonder if she was deluding herself as she slowed in the lane in front of Maddy’s and coasted the big bike to a stop.
“We’re here,” Sax announced, pulling off her helmet and clipping it to the side of the machine.
“Does she know we’re coming?” Jude thought to ask a little belatedly, wondering about their reception. She was beginning to think this might all be a joke or a hallucination. How had she come to be out in the middle of nowhere with a woman who made her skin melt? That is, when she wasn’t making her too angry to see straight, of course.
“She’ll have heard us.” Sax laughed, easing her leg over the body of the bike and waiting while Jude climbed off.
Sure enough, as Jude followed her gaze, she spied the unmistakable visage of Madeleine Lane. “Wow. She’s still beautiful.”
“Yes, she is.”
Maddy walked quickly down the flagstone path and through the gate. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed Sax’s cheek, then turned to Jude and said warmly, “Hello. I’m Maddy.”
Jude tried not to stare, but it wasn’t often she got to meet a film legend. Plus, the woman’s eyes were the precise shade of deep blue as Sax’s and just as sharp. She introduced herself, hoping she didn’t sound as awed as she felt.
“I suppose my granddaughter has had you up all night on some adventure or another,” Maddy said, squeezing Jude’s hand. “She always shows up here worn out and starving.”
“Maddy,” Sax sighed as Jude blushed.
“Never mind,” Maddy said firmly, shepherding them toward the house. “Come inside and have something to eat. You can tell me all about it later.”
Taking her grandmother’s arm, Sax continued, “Jude is the filmmaker I told you about.”
“Wonderful. I am so curious to know what things are like in the business these days.” Maddy stopped on the porch. “Saxon, take your guest upstairs and show her where she can freshen up. Breakfast will be ready when you come down.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sax said with a laugh as her grandmother left them.
“Madeleine Lane is your grandmother?” Jude asked sotto voce as they climbed the stairs.
“The one and only.”
“Oh my God, what stories she must have to tell.”
“I’m sure you’ll get to hear them before long.” Sax grinned, opening a door on one side of the central hallway. “There’s a bathroom adjoining this bedroom. I can bring you some clean clothes, if you don’t mind wearing more of mine.”
“Oh, please, yes. I feel like I’ve been in these forever,” Jude replied gratefully. And I like wearing yours.
“I’ll be back in a little while, then.”
“All right,” Jude said as she watched Sax walk down the hall and open another door. She had a sudden urge to follow her, so instead, she turned resolutely into the guest room.
*
“Come in,” Jude called in response to the soft knock on the door.
“Feeling better?” Sax asked, entering with an armful of clothes. Her hair was wet from the shower, and she wore fresh jeans and a clean T-shirt.
“Much.” Jude pulled the top of the towel tighter over the tops of her breasts, acutely aware at that moment of just how little of her the material covered. She’d hoped that when she saw Sax again, some of the unsettling effect the surgeon had on her would have worn off. It hadn’t. The woman was still gorgeous.
Sax’s eyes flickered down the length of Jude’s body before resting once more on her face. “Sorry,” she said, noting Jude’s blush. “I have you at a disadvantage.” She held out the garments from a respectable distance of a few feet away. “The chinos might be a little long, but—”
“If they haven’t been slept in, they’ll be perfect.” Jude grabbed them gratefully and held them to her chest. She stared at Sax and couldn’t think of a thing to say. She could think of plenty of things she wanted to do, and none of them were possible for more reasons than she even wanted to consider. Not before breakfast, and not with Sax standing right there with a look in her eyes that made Jude’s heart rate triple.
“I’ll see you downstairs, then,” Sax said, her voice oddly strained. If I can’t be in the same room
with her without wanting to take her clothes off, we’re going to have real problems at the hospital. God, I hope this passes quickly.
“Yes, fine. I’ll be right there.”
Jude listened to Sax’s footsteps receding down the hall and wanted nothing more in the world but to call her back.
*
“And of course, you can’t reshoot it, can you?” Maddy asked, passing Jude the pitcher of orange juice.
“No.” Jude smiled as she emptied the last of the juice into her glass. She was thoroughly enjoying her discussion with Maddy about documentary filmmaking but wondered, with one part of her mind, where Sax had gone off to right after breakfast. “If we miss a moment of the action, it’s gone for good. That’s part of the reason it’s a long-term project, and also why we’re filming every chance we can. There’s always the possibility that we won’t get what we think we’re getting, or that there’ll be a technical glitch, or that something else will go wrong, and we’ll miss the shot.”
“Your photographer. Is she stubborn and pigheaded?”
“Aren’t they all?”
“All the good ones,” Maddy remarked with a sharp nod.
“Actually, Mel is terrific. She’s independent, but she’s willing to try to understand what I’m thinking, what I’m looking for. I’m spoiled now, and I want her on all my projects.”
“Ah, yes, all the great directors form that kind of relationship with their cinematographers—Scorsese and Ballhaus, Kubrick and Alcott, Hitchcock and Burks.” With a smile, she added, “But of course, they were well before your time.”
“I’m afraid I am nowhere near the league of those people.”
“Well, they also had actors who were willing to give them thirty takes until they got exactly what they wanted.” Maddy’s eyes twinkled. “I don’t imagine Saxon is quite that cooperative.”
“Ah.” Jude colored. “She’s got a lot to worry about in the middle of a trauma. How the scene comes out isn’t one of her top priorities.”
“Oh, well put and very diplomatic,” Maddy said, laughing outright. “You needn’t defend her to me, and I wasn’t being critical. I know my granddaughter. She doesn’t let much of anything get in her way.”
Jude smiled, too. “No, she doesn’t.” She glanced at the clock, amazed to find they had been talking for nearly two hours. It was midafternoon already. With a start, she realized that in less than eighteen hours, they were due to be back in the hospital for another day and night of call. “Would you mind if I went to find Sax? I just want to know when she plans to leave.”
“Of course not. It was wonderful to hear all about your work. You must come back and show me some of the dailies one of these days.”
“I’d love to,” Jude replied, thoroughly charmed.
“If you just follow the sound of the hammer, I’m sure you’ll come across Saxon,” Maddy called as Jude went out through the back screen door. Watching her go, Maddy thought what a strange coincidence it was that the first person Saxon ever brought home with her was a filmmaker. But she imagined it had less to do with that and more with the fact that Jude Castle was intelligent, energetic, and quite beautiful.
*
Jude found Sax inside a barn, a part of which had been converted into a garage. At least, she assumed that the denim-clad butt, which was all that was visible of the person leaning under the hood of a classic car, belonged to Sax, because she hadn’t seen anyone else about the place.
“Sax?”
The surgeon straightened and reached for a nearby grease rag, carefully wiping her hands. She turned, grinning, and leaned against the fender of a gleaming black Rolls. “Maddy tire you out?”
“No, I fell in love with her in about two seconds.”
“Most people do.”
“She’s wonderful, and she was a wonderful actress,” Jude enthused, still so excited that she missed the change in Sax’s expression. “She retired much too early—at the peak of her career, really. It was a shame, a great—”
She stopped, finally aware that Sax had grown pale. Jude had never seen her even the least bit distressed about anything. Angry, yes. But this wasn’t anger—this was pain. “Sax? I’m sorry...what is it?”
“Nothing,” Sax replied, her voice carefully neutral. “I just checked in with the hospital. Dennis Kline, my senior staff surgeon, says Aaron is holding his own.”
“I’m glad,” Jude said softly, meaning it, but also quite aware that Sax had changed the subject. She couldn’t press her; she hadn’t been invited to share that kind of intimacy. She almost laughed at the irony of that fact—they’d done everything but climb inside each other’s skin, but she couldn’t ask her what was hurting her. That bothered her more than she would have thought possible.
“Am I crazy, or are we on call again in the morning?” she finally asked.
“We are,” Sax replied, relieved to be back on safe ground. “We can go back tonight or early in the morning.”
Jude regarded her carefully but she could read nothing in her expression. She couldn’t tell for certain if there was an invitation in Sax’s words, and even if there was, she realized that she couldn’t accept it. She couldn’t spend the night here with even the slight possibility that there would be a repeat of the night before. Because she wouldn’t be able to say no, and she wasn’t at all sure it would be wise to say yes. She needed to get some perspective, she needed to decide what she was going to say to Lori, and she needed to figure out what the hell she was feeling for Saxon Sinclair—she couldn’t do any of that if she was anywhere near her.
“Let’s go tonight.”
“Fine,” Sax responded. “Let me finish here, and I’ll get cleaned up. If you want to nap for a bit, you can use the room upstairs.”
“Aren’t you tired?” Jude was aware that she hadn’t been invited to stay in the garage while Sax worked.
“I don’t sleep much,” Sax answered noncommittally.
“I’ll probably be upstairs,” Jude informed her quietly.
“I’ll find you.” Sax turned back to the engine. She did not watch as Jude walked away, but she was aware of every step taken, and she was also aware that she already missed her.
Chapter Twenty-One
August 6, 6:57 a.m.
“Sorry I didn’t return your calls,” Jude said as she joined Mel in the cafeteria. “I got in pretty late.” And I didn’t want to talk to anyone.
They’d left Maddy’s in the evening, and the ride back to Manhattan was uneventful. That is, if polite distance could be considered uneventful, especially after they’d been wrapped around each other for over an hour on a motorcycle. Their good nights were equally civil and proper.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sax said, straddling her bike by the curb, the engine purring beneath her.
“Yes. Thank you for taking me to Maddy’s.” Jude stood on the sidewalk, her hands in the pockets of the borrowed chinos, her own clothes rolled up under her arm. “I loved talking to her.”
“I know she enjoyed it, too.” Sax turned her helmet around and around in her hands. She seemed to be waiting. “Well,” she pulled on her helmet, “good night, then.”
“Good night.”
Jude watched her pull away, gunning the engine as she roared off down the street, and berated herself for feeling so let down. What the hell is wrong with me? What did I expect Sax to say? We slept together. Okay, fine. People do it all the time. It’s natural and normal and doesn’t have to mean anything beyond the moment.
She was still mentally chastising herself for expecting something more.
“Jude?”
“Hmm?” Jude asked distractedly. Her mind was still on the image of Sax disappearing into the night, and the loneliness that had followed—a feeling foreign to her. Focusing on Mel, she said, “I’m sorry if you were worried.”
“No, it’s okay,” Mel assured her quickly. “When I didn’t hear from you, I figured you wanted a break from all of this for a while.”
“Not
from you, Mel,” Jude corrected firmly, studying her friend over the top of her coffee cup. Mel looked about as worn out as Jude felt, although she’d had six hours of sleep after she’d finally gotten to bed.
For whatever reason, sleep hadn’t made her feel any better. That was probably because her dreams, populated by dark faceless figures racing through rain-swept, foreboding landscapes, had been permeated with a sense of danger. Jesus, talk about classic anxiety dreams. How original. Annoyed with herself, she mentally shook off the lingering unease.
“You said in your message that you wanted to talk about something. Is there a problem with the project?”
“No,” Melissa answered with a shake of her head. Of course that would be Jude’s first thought. For all their affection, they rarely talked about anything really personal. Jude never seemed to have the need to do so, and her perfectly neat, orderly life always made Melissa feel as if she were a fuck-up whenever she had a problem. Not that Jude ever said that or even suggested it. It was just that, somehow, whenever Melissa compared her own life to Jude’s, she felt inadequate.
“It’s...uh...not work.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yeah,” Melissa replied in a tone that suggested otherwise, poking at the toast on her plate. “I guess so.”
“Mel, I can tell that’s bullshit. Spit it out.”
“Well, it’s just that…what happened with Aaron. It kind of shook me up.”
“Of course,” Jude said softly. “It was horrible. And terrifying.”
“I mean,” Melissa continued as if she hadn’t heard Jude’s reply, her gaze slightly unfocused, as if she were reliving the moment, “we’ve been in tight spots once or twice. Remember that time we thought the tanks were going to start shelling right where we had our cameras set up?”
“I remember.”
“But it didn’t feel personal then, you know? It almost didn’t feel real. It was—like—uh-oh, we’re in the wrong place. Better run like hell now. It was exciting in a crazy kind of way.”