by Julie Cannon
Lauren’s gaze halted on a woman at a table on the other side of the expansive room. She was taller than everyone at her table, and even from this distance Lauren could discern a long, lean form that was evident under her formal attire as she stood and applauded the award winner. Lauren was intrigued by the fact that she was the only woman in the room in a tuxedo, and she wore it comfortably. She looked vaguely familiar, but Lauren could not quite place where she had seen her before. She would definitely have remembered if they had met.
She realized she was staring when her escort leaned over and whispered something unintelligible in her ear. She nodded vaguely and made a socially appropriate comment, thankful this farce would soon be over and she could go home and watch old reruns of I Love Lucy. Throughout the appeals for money, her eyes kept returning to the woman in the tux, who sat comfortably in her chair, twirling her half-empty wineglass in her hand. She looked preoccupied, Lauren thought, unhappy to be here but hiding it well.
Elliott allowed the long-winded speeches to wash over her as she mapped out her options and planned what she was going to tell her attorney this time. What was the worst thing that could happen if they just told Rebecca to go fuck herself? Elliott’s sexuality was not a closely guarded secret, but she didn’t want it to be a topic of daily conversation either, and Rebecca could be trouble. Elliott could handle any fallout in her personal life—her family had long ago accepted the fact that she was a lesbian—but she was more concerned with the embarrassment this could bring to her firm.
She had worked nonstop to return the company to its previous level of trust, respect, and impeccable ethical standards, the principles set by her father so many years ago. It would be a major distraction if her clients even suspected she had seduced an unwilling woman. Through some very hard lessons, she had learned that you cannot change what people think and she had stopped trying many years ago. She was well aware that the focus would quickly move from her brilliant mind and how much money she made, to their crotches, as seemed to be the case for most men when they fantasized about two women together. Various clients came to mind, conservatives she was certain she would lose if Rebecca started rumors, and there were associates who would begin to distance themselves from her firm. She was in final negotiations with the largest software developer in the country, trying to secure additional venture capital funding, and she knew without a doubt that that deal would come to a crashing halt if there was any bad “morals” publicity.
The faces of her employees flashed in front of her. These were the people who would be hurt the most in a scandal. If clients and investment managers took their business elsewhere, she would be forced to lay off people associated with those accounts. Foster McKenzie employees had already suffered under the disastrous reign of her uncle. She had been able to rehire many as the firm got back on its feet, and she now had an outstanding staff. Elliott swallowed at the thought of letting them down.
As she contemplated the tricky possibilities, the hairs on the back of her neck rose and she was distracted by the familiar sense that someone was staring at her. Elliott was used to being the subject of inquisitive eyes at company meetings, or during a speech she was delivering, or in a bar. The latter was generally the only time she paid any attention, as it was typically the prelude to an evening of delightful entertainment in the arms of a beautiful woman. But tonight a casual encounter was the last thing she was interested in. Her run-in with Rebecca was still fresh in her mind, and she didn’t feel up to conducting the cross-examination that would ensure the woman cruising her shared the same ideas about sex without strings. At this moment, all Elliott wanted was the opportunity to escape after she’d paid her dues, and go home to soak in a long, hot bath.
As the speech droned on, she subtly scanned the crowd. Faces, equally bored, dotted the landscape of tables, and a head or two nodded in slumber. Finally, her eyes landed on a face carefully schooled to glazed concentration, as if the man speaking into the microphone truly commanded attention. Elliott recognized the expression. She’s as thrilled to be here as I am, and hiding it better than most. I wonder whose shit list she’s on. A split second later their eyes met.
Lauren blushed. She knew she had been caught looking. The woman in the tux held her gaze for a long, unwavering moment, and the expression on her face shifted from bored indifference and annoyance to faint interest, then she looked away. Lauren felt as though she had just been considered for something important, then cast aside as not worth the effort. Well, piss on you too. She returned her focus to the front of the stage and valiantly resumed her phony interest.
Twenty minutes later the speeches were over and the dancing was in full swing. A group of musicians played a mix of classical music and light jazz, which was obviously well received judging by the number of couples on the dance floor. The tables had been cleared of all evidence of the dinner enthusiastically consumed by the guests, and white tablecloths had been replaced with red.
Lauren ditched her “date” and went in search of a fresh cocktail, since she figured she would die of thirst if she waited for him to notice her empty glass. Once her mission was accomplished, she spotted an area where she knew she could hide from the crowd without being too far out of sight of the festivities if her presence was needed. Ensuring she didn’t make eye contact with anyone who would want to chitchat, she headed quickly for the safe haven. As she rounded the corner, she ran almost headlong into the tall woman in the tux and froze, mumbling an apology that was ignored. The woman was so preoccupied, she barely seemed to notice.
“I know what you told me, Ryan, but I’m telling you again, I am not going to give her one goddamn cent. Yes, I know my reputation is not the only thing at stake.” Elliott blinked as she virtually stepped on a guest standing in her path. Aggravated, she informed the stranger by way of greeting, “Excuse me, I’m having a private conversation here.”
Lauren had to tilt her head up to look into the cold, almost black eyes of the woman who stood several inches taller than her own 5’6”. It was then that she noticed the cell phone next to her ear and the telltale signs of anger on her face. Earlier that evening it had seemed a very attractive face, but right now the scathing look directed at her marred its appeal.
“Just a minute, Ryan.” Elliott lifted the phone from her ear and pierced Lauren with a look that usually turned grown men into sniveling, apologetic buffoons. “Hello! Didn’t you hear me? I’m on the phone having a private conversation.” She emphasized the word private to make her point.
Lauren recovered from the initial shock of their near collision and lifted her chin in response to the challenge. “I heard you. But this isn’t your private terrace, and there’s no need for you to be such an ass. Perhaps if you were paying more attention to your surroundings, you might not run into strangers and find it necessary to blame them for your own clumsiness.”
Lauren didn’t have to raise her voice to get her point across. She was an expert in cutting people off at the knees with her tone and inflection. She gave the woman a withering look and walked away. She was still fuming from the encounter when she spotted her escort heading toward her. Quickly, she looked around and found that she did not have an appropriate escape route. Holding back a grimace, she steeled herself for whatever he wanted now.
Elliott’s hands were shaking when she flipped the phone shut and returned it to her pocket. She was not upset by the scolding she had received from both her attorney and the angry woman who had just walked away, only the fact that her actions had made it necessary in the first place. Jesus, what a cluster! She hailed the nearest waiter for a Scotch and concentrated on her breathing. He returned more quickly than expected and she tipped him generously to ensure his continued good service for the remainder of the evening. Sipping her drink, she searched the crowd, mentally checking the list of people she needed to glad-hand before she could leave and seeking out the attractive woman who had delivered the verbal slap.
As if replaying a bad movie, Elliott
recalled her rudeness and the woman’s shocked dismay. Her stomach lurched. Normally, she would never have taken out her wrath on an innocent stranger, especially one so delightful to look at. Embarrassed, and knowing she had to right a wrong, she spotted the woman she’d offended and began rehearsing a polite apology.
As she walked toward her, she appreciated the elegantly understated black dress that flattered her curves but did not flaunt them, unlike the revealing dresses chosen by many of the women in the room. Her skin was nicely tanned by natural exposure to the outdoors, not the tanning salon shade that Elliott saw on most of the women she dated. I wonder if she has any tan lines? Surprisingly for her skin tone, she had strawberry blond hair that looked natural. It was thick and wavy and highlighted with streaks that made Elliott want to run her hands through it. She groaned inwardly. Just make your apologies and get out of here, Foster.
“Excuse me,” she said and was struck by the most vivid blue eyes she had ever seen. They were the color of a Caribbean bay and were clear, sharp, and inquisitive. The face tilted slightly toward her own was smooth and flawless, perfectly proportioned, and suggested just a hint of makeup. She was absolutely beautiful. “May I speak with you for a moment?” When there was no immediate response, Elliott added, “Please.”
Lauren felt a rush of warmth course through her body at the simple word, adding to the flush the woman’s direct gaze had provoked. She’d been trying hard to carry her share of the conversation with a small group of attorneys who had gravitated together, but had been distracted when she saw the tall figure approaching. Murmuring a polite excuse, she stepped away from the group.
“I’m sorry for taking you away from your date, but I…”
Lauren interrupted before the woman could continue. “He’s not my date.” As soon as she’d said it, she wondered why she
was explaining herself to this stranger—this extremely rude stranger.
Elliott nodded and only spent a moment wondering why she felt relief at the information. “My mistake, then. I’d like to apologize for my terrible behavior earlier. I was in the middle of something and you surprised me. I took it out on you and you had absolutely nothing to do with it. Please accept my apology.” She began to squirm when the woman did not respond as she expected her to.
“And if I don’t?”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Elliott was not in the mood to be toyed with. “It’s a simple apology, not a global peace treaty.” Her lovely companion reacted as if she’d been slapped. Shit, I can’t even get this right tonight. Elliott rubbed her hand cross her forehead. “Wait, please. I’m usually not such an ogre. Let me start over. I’m Elliott Foster. I was in the middle of something difficult and I took it out on you and apparently I am still not making things right. Once more, please accept my apology.” She pushed all seriousness aside and laid her palm on her chest. “If you don’t, I’ll be crushed and have to grovel at your feet. Then I’ll have to take out a full-page ad in the Wall Street Journal or USA Today, whichever you prefer. And if that doesn’t work, then I’ll simply have to invite you to dinner.” The last statement spilled out of her mouth before Elliott knew what she was saying. She looked closely to see if she had overstepped her bounds.
Lauren frowned as she considered the listed action items. She didn’t know this woman at all and was unsure of her sincerity. One thing was obvious, however: “Elliott Foster” was used to getting her way, and Lauren was sure she had begged for forgiveness on more than one occasion if she thought it would serve her to do so. She wanted to be annoyed, but for some reason, she wasn’t and joined the game. “Hmm. That’s a lot to consider. I’ll have to think about it.”
“That’s fair.” Elliott masked her surprise. Normally women fell into line, unable to resist her when she humbled herself. Against her better judgment, she suddenly didn’t want their conversation to end. “Since that guy is not your date, may I have the opportunity to convince you over a drink on the patio?”
Lauren’s heart began to beat faster at the attractive woman’s expectant look. “All right. You have five minutes.”
Elliott’s pulse sped up immediately with the familiar cadence of desire. The outlook for the evening has definitely changed for the better. “I can do an awful lot in five minutes.”
She didn’t know why on earth she was flirting with this woman. Because of the incident with Rebecca, she’d had enough of women, at least for the next few days. But she found this one quite beautiful and it seemed perfectly reasonable to distract herself from her annoyance. Why not see where “five minutes” could lead? In her experience, it usually signaled a long, pleasurable evening.
Lauren had caught Elliott’s innuendo but decided to let it drop. “I’ll have a vodka gimlet,” she said as they moved toward one of the many bars strategically located around the room. “I’m Lauren Collier, by the way.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Collier.” Elliott extended her hand.
Lauren felt the warm flesh meet hers, and the woman’s eyes seemed to darken as they scanned her face. The heat that started in her palm quickly moved through the rest of her body and settled in the pit of her stomach. Lauren felt slightly dizzy as she listened to Elliott place the order with the bartender, requesting a Chivas for herself.
Belatedly, she realized she was still holding Elliott’s hand and quickly dropped her grasp, intrigued by her physical reaction to this woman. She met people every day of all shapes, sizes, and degrees of appeal, but none ever affected her like this. Her breathing was in a race with her pulse, her hands were damp, and she wanted to get lost in the deep, liquid brown eyes that were looking only at her. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought she was coming down with something. Shaking her head to clear it, she managed to squeak out a thank-you when Elliott handed her the glass.
As they walked across the room, Lauren took the opportunity to more closely survey the woman beside her. Dark brown hair reached just below the collar of a starched white shirt topped with a contrasting royal blue bow tie. Her skin was tanned and she wore no makeup to hide the small laugh lines that surrounded her eyes. Diamond studs sparkled in her ears as they peeked out from under wavy curls. Surprising herself, Lauren found Elliott extremely attractive in a subtle but sensuous way.
She had always had a level of appreciation for beautiful woman, as she did for handsome men, but the tingling in her stomach told her something about Elliott Foster was more intriguing than usual. Lauren was by no means a prude, nor did she sleep with everyone who gave her the slightest invitation. It wasn’t like her to have sexual thoughts about someone she had just met, yet here she was with unsettling flashes running through her mind. Jesus, when was the last time I had sex? She had to think hard on that question. Accepting the position at Bradley & Taylor had meant eighty-hour workweeks, learning about her new company and handling the multitude of litigation that piled up on her desk. Whatever free time she did have she spent refurbishing the hundred-year-old house she had recently bought. As a result, she had lost touch with all but her closest friends and had not gone out on a real date in ages.
Thankfully, she was not a woman who believed that she was incomplete without a partner or lover. She treasured her freedom and valued her privacy. She often said that she might be alone, but was never lonely. Yet all of a sudden, standing here with this woman, she was extremely aware of her solitary state. Lauren supposed it was not irrational to imagine being touched and held, although it was unusual that she had those thoughts for a woman. If she were honest, she seldom had them for anyone, in fact.
Elliott held the French doors open, waiting for Lauren to pass through. As she did, she caught a whiff of Elliott’s perfume and recognized it as Charisma, the new fragrance everyone at her office was raving about. That’s appropriate. As they stepped out onto the patio, the noise level substantially decreased and they were met with the fragrance of jasmine carried by a cool breeze.
“What brings you to this gala event, Ms. Coll
ier?” Elliott asked as she leaned her hip on the rail that separated the gardens from the area where they were standing.
“A business obligation.” Lauren didn’t know why she felt it important to reiterate that she was not with Mr. Suave out of her own choosing. “And you?”
“A good friend of mine is with the PR agency that promoted this shindig. Victoria didn’t have a date, so she asked me to be her escort.”
Lauren was surprised by the tingling in the pit in her stomach at Elliott’s use of the term date. It was said quite innocently but Lauren knew exactly what she was referring to.
Elliott picked up on Lauren’s reaction and smiled. “Victoria’s just a friend.” She took a swallow of her drink. “We tried the romance thing back in college but we both agreed that we make better friends than lovers.”
There, it’s out in the open. Are you going to take it and run or just run? And why do I care? Elliott knew why she cared. Lauren was both beautiful and delightful, two characteristics that normally didn’t go together in the women she dated. They were definitely in the beautiful category and many had charmed their way into her bed, but compared with only the few minutes she had spent with Lauren Collier, something was lacking. Elliott thought about that and decided the missing attribute was class. And look where my usual taste in women has gotten me so far. She scowled at the fleeting thought of Rebecca.
Lauren watched as a range of emotions played across Elliott’s face, the last being cynicism. The expression reminded Lauren that she should do the politically correct thing and return to her date. Fuck it. For some reason she couldn’t put her finger on, she’d much rather spend the rest of the evening talking with Elliott. The fact that Elliott had just admitted she was a lesbian