Countdown

by Julie Cannon

  “How in the hell do I know?” Kenner answered abruptly. “Don’t you NASA types check and double-check everything three times?”

  “Of course we do,” Andrea shot back. “Never mind,” she said, too exhausted to continue this absurd conversation. She unlocked the car’s doors and indicated the passenger seat with her thumb. “Get in.”

  “What?”

  “I said get in. I’m too tired to drive all over town trying to find you another place.”

  Kenner hesitated, and Andrea’s already missing patience completely disappeared.

  “Are you going to get in the car?” She actually wanted to say, “Get your ass in the car or sleep in the street. I don’t care,” but even in her pissed-off state, she knew she couldn’t do that. Barry would do more than just read her the riot act; he might even remove her from the mission. Such a response would be career suicide. “Kenner, just get in,” she said instead.

  Kenner hesitated a few more moments as if deciding if it was better for her to go with Andrea or take her chances on the street to find her own hotel. Finally, just before Andrea blew a gasket, Kenner walked around in front of her car and climbed in. She tossed her duffle bag on the seat behind them.

  “You know you’re kinda cute when you get mad. Your eyes flash, and the tips of your ears get red.”

  Andrea was speechless. Had Kenner just hit on her? It had been a long time and absolutely never at work, but really? Did this woman always have an attitude like this? How was Andrea supposed to work with her? This was a life-threatening situation, and if Kenner wasn’t going to take this seriously…Andrea hoped she wouldn’t have to figure that out.

  Kenner looked at her expectantly. What was she supposed to say to that? Don’t say anything like that again? That borders on sexual harassment? Thank you? To keep this day from getting worse she simply said, “Buckle your seat belt.”

  *

  “Where are we?” Kenner asked. It was dark, but she could tell this was a residential area, not a commercial one.

  “My house.” Andrea’s reply was clipped.

  Andrea hadn’t said a word on the drive, and Kenner was smart enough not to try to make conversation. It was obvious Andrea had a plan, and in no way was Kenner going to question it. She was smarter than to ask for trouble.

  “Your house?”

  “Yes. I have a guest room that rarely gets used, with clean sheets on the bed and fresh towels in the bathroom. You have to sleep somewhere, and I’m too exhausted to try to find you anything else.” Andrea pulled into the drive, pushed a button on the visor, and the garage door slowly started to slide open.

  “You don’t have to do this. I can find something.” Kenner knew it was a little late for such a comment, but she had to say something. Her mother had taught her as much.

  “Too late, we’re already here,” Andrea replied briskly.

  Andrea’s house was a modest brick two-story that looked similar to, yet different from the others on the street. Judging by the architecture and the size of the trees in the front yard, the neighborhood must have been built several decades ago, when pride in craftsmanship overruled cookie-cutter sub-divisions. A circular drive led to the garage, which was tucked discreetly at the side of the house.

  Kenner had never desired to be a homeowner. Being one would cement her feet in commitment, and she didn’t do commitment. It meant keeping the yard neat and tidy, making sure the trash got carried out to the street on garbage day, and paying the water bill. All that was too much responsibility for her taste, and she was definitely not the white-picket-fence kind of girl.

  Kenner wasn’t surprised when she saw the contents of Andrea’s garage as the door rose. Everything was in its place. There were no shelves, but on one side sat a large work bench with tools hanging in perfect order on a pegboard attached to the wall. A bright-red shiny toolbox sat adjacent to the workbench, and Kenner suspected if she looked closely she could see her reflection in the top. A name-brand road bike was suspended from the ceiling by a set of cables and pulleys, a sparkling clean John Deere lawn tractor parked below it. Kenner didn’t have a garage but reflected on the contents of her apartment, and compared to this she could be a candidate for the TV reality show Hoarders.

  She grabbed her bag out of the backseat and followed Andrea into the house. A series of beeps later the alarm was disabled and the lights turned on. Andrea tossed her keys on a side table and walked farther into the room.

  They entered the house through the amazingly large kitchen. The island had to be at least eight feet long and five or six feet wide. The granite countertops gleamed under the can lights from the ceiling high overhead. There were more cabinets than Kenner could count at first glance, the appliances stainless and all high-end. Very impressive, and not what she would have expected from the serious, all-business flight director. She said as much.

  “Not that it’s any of your business what I do in my spare time, but I like to cook.”

  “With this kitchen, the phrase ‘I like to cook’ is like saying ‘I like to fly’ as you’re catapulted off the flight deck of an aircraft carrier.”

  Andrea didn’t say anything, just led the way to a room to the right of a large entertainment center. “The guest room is over here.” She switched on the light. “The bathroom’s through there.” She pointed. “Make yourself at home. Are you hungry? I’m not sure what’s in the fridge. I’ve been a little busy lately,” she said sarcastically, her accent a little more pronounced.

  Kenner had had enough of Andrea’s snarky attitude. She blocked Andrea from leaving. “Look, I didn’t ask to come here. You brought me here before I even had a chance to say no thanks.” Kenner pointed at Andrea to emphasize her point. “You’re obviously from somewhere in the South, and I know your mama taught you better manners than the way you’ve treated me since I got here to solve your problem. If you don’t want me to stay, just say the word, because I can get on the next plane as fast as I got on the last one. And have a hell of a lot more fun when I get there.”

  It was a face-off, and Kenner would be damned if she’d give in first. She was here as a favor to NASA and didn’t want or expect special treatment, but she wouldn’t let this woman or anyone else on this rocket ship shit on her.

  Andrea didn’t move and seemed to be deciding if she would say anything. “I’m just tired,” she said, expelling a frustrated sigh. “It’s not an imposition to have you here. Please make yourself at home. My room is down the hall, last door on the left, if you need anything. Good night.”

  Were her words rushed? Kenner wondered. Was she in a hurry to get out of this small room as much as Kenner wanted her to? Was it for the same reason? She doubted it. With a woman like Andrea, she probably thought the sooner to bed the sooner she could go back to work. And that was really sad.

  *

  Kenner knocked on the bedroom door. “Andrea?” When she didn’t get an answer, she knocked a little louder. She couldn’t be asleep. It was only five minutes since Andrea had left her room. “Andrea? A dog’s barking and scratching at the back door. He definitely wants to come in. It is yours?” When Andrea still didn’t answer, Kenner turned the knob and opened the door a few inches.

  “Andrea?” she called, not sure if she should go in or just go to bed and put a pillow over her head. The bed was still made, and Kenner took a quick glance around the room. It was large, she guessed at least twenty by thirty. A set of bay windows with white plantation shutters filled one entire side. They were open slightly, letting the light of the full moon splinter into the room.

  “Andrea?” she said again, taking a few more steps into the bedroom. She didn’t want to startle her, but if she was…Oh my God. From where Kenner stopped she could see Andrea’s reflection in a large mirror. She was buck-ass naked except for the soap sliding down her back. But that didn’t really count because more skin was showing than soap covering it.

  Holy Toledo, Kenner thought as her eyes quickly moved over Andrea’s wet body. Kenner’s
hands began to tingle. Andrea was too thin but still had all the right curves in all the right places. Her ass was perfect, and Kenner opened and closed her fists as if she were squeezing each cheek. She licked her lips and swallowed as she focused on the way Andrea’s hands slid up and down her body. If Kenner didn’t know better she would have thought Andrea was putting on a show for her. And she had the front-row seat.

  Andrea washed one arm, then the other, soaping her breasts and stomach in between. Kenner raised her eyebrows as if somehow she could encourage her hands to drift lower and disappear between her legs. Kenner loved to watch a woman pleasure herself, but she wasn’t sure she could stand on the sidelines and watch. Not this time. Kenner’s legs felt weak when Andrea lifted one of her legs and placed her foot on the seat in the corner. When she bent over to wash her calf, Kenner stifled a gasp of pleasure and quickly took a step backward.

  “Kenner?”

  She froze. Andrea had obviously heard her or she sensed Kenner’s presence. Should she come clean and confess her voyeurism and offer to wash her back? The other alternative was to say something and pretend she’d just come in. Or she could simply slink out the same way she came in and take her vision of Andrea’s naked body to bed with her. She opted for the last choice, backed out of the room, and silently closed the door she’d opened a few minutes earlier.

  Kenner’s legs shook as she hustled back down the hall to her own room. She shut the door and leaned against it, her heart hammering. She was breathing fast and felt like she’d just run several miles at top speed. Her hands trembled as she scrubbed them over her face in an attempt to calm down.

  Good God, it wasn’t like she was a teenager and had caught the mother of one of her friends in the shower. She was a grown-up woman, and Andrea definitely was as well. The scene from The Graduate flashed in her mind just before she heard a knock on her door. She jumped and dashed over and hopped into the bed, pulling the covers up over her. She usually slept nude but hadn’t had a chance to take her clothes off because of the barking dog. Which, by the way, she noticed was no longer barking.

  “Kenner?” She was startled by Andrea’s voice at her door.

  “Yeah, come on in.”

  Andrea opened the door and stuck her head in. Her hair was wet, and even from this distance she smelled fresh and clean.

  “I thought I heard something. Everything okay?”

  Not hardly. “Yes, everything’s fine.” Liar.

  Andrea leaned into the room a little farther, causing the gap in her robe to become even larger, exposing almost all of one breast. “Do you need anything?”

  “No, not a thing, thanks.” Big fat liar. “Good night. I’ll see you in the morning, and thanks again,” she managed to croak out, needing Andrea and her tempting bare breast to get out of her room.

  Kenner tossed the covers off and started fanning herself the instant after she heard the door latch click shut. That was close. The last thing she needed was for Andrea to suspect she’d caught her in the shower. They had enough animosity between them; she didn’t need any more. And what was up with that? Sure, Andrea had sounded a little tense when she’d called and asked for her help. Who wouldn’t be in her shoes? But what had she done to warrant the antagonism Andrea was heaping on her?

  Yet that wasn’t what had Kenner all worked up. It was the image of the water sliding off Andrea’s naked body. What in the hell was she going to do with that visual? She couldn’t un-see it if she wanted to. As Kenner closed her eyes, she knew she didn’t.

  Chapter Twelve

  T-minus 08:17:42:16

  Andrea turned off her alarm and fell back onto the bed, exhausted. She hadn’t slept much, worrying about the mission, the bills that needed to be paid, that she hadn’t called her parents in weeks, and that she probably needed to buy milk. She rolled over and threw her arm over her eyes. Yeah, that and the fact that Kenner Hutchings was in a bed fifteen feet down the hall.

  She rolled over onto the back and said to herself, “What in the hell were you thinking bringing her here? You never do anything that stupid. God, I need to have my head examined.” In the span of fifteen hours Kenner had come in and thrown her entire life into turmoil. She was trespassing on her well-manicured professional turf, and Andrea had to spend whatever free time she had spelling out acronyms and entering display commands. If her sister knew she’d invited her to stay the night she’d never hear the end of it.

  Why were some women like a cool summer shower and others like an F5 tornado? Andrea preferred women that were calm, never got rattled, had miles of patience, and avoided conflict. It just made them that much easier to have around. Everyone knew how to act and what to expect, which was definitely no drama. If she wanted drama she’d be a thespian instead of a lesbian. Pushing thoughts of Kenner out of her head, she started to get up and stopped. What the hell was that smell? She quickly sat up. Coffee?

  “Andrea?” Kenner called from the other side of her bedroom door. “Andrea, I heard your alarm. I’m assuming you’re up. I brought coffee.” She knocked again. “Andrea?”

  “Yes, I’m up,” Andrea said, trying to get her bearings. She couldn’t remember the last time she woke up with someone in her house in the morning. Actually she couldn’t remember the last time anyone woke her up for any reason. Jesus, where had that come from?

  “May I come in?”

  Andrea frantically looked around her room. It was in its usual tidy condition, except for her clothes that lay in a pile on the bathroom floor where she’d left them. She ran her hands through her hair several times. “Sure.” Her voice was raspy from sleep, or the lack thereof, and she cleared her throat as the door opened.

  Kenner was carrying a mug of coffee, the steam billowing up from the top. It was her favorite mug, white with the logo from John Deere, a yellow deer jumping over a green background. She always used it on the morning she mowed her yard. It was just one of her quirky things absolutely no one knew about.

  “Good morning,” Kenner said, approaching the bed. Her hair was wet, and she was wearing a pair of low-rise black jeans, a white button-down shirt, and boots. She looked good. She handed Andrea the cup. “Sleep well?”

  No. “Yes, you?”

  “Pretty good, actually, considering my mind was racing from everything I saw today. I usually have trouble falling asleep.” Kenner looked around the room.

  Andrea followed Kenner’s eyes, trying to see the room as Kenner would. The walls were painted a rich shade of purple accented by white crown molding along the ceiling. Four-inch trim around the closet doors and windows, along with the white shutters, contrasted perfectly with the dark walls. The carpet was tan and thick, the paintings on the walls adding dimension and additional color. When she’d remodeled several years ago, this was the only room the decorator hadn’t designed. It was her bedroom, her sanctuary, and she wanted it to reflect her personality. The fact that no one other than Kenner had seen it was depressing. Kenner’s gaze finished sweeping the room and came back to her.

  “This room is beautiful.”

  Andrea’s stomach did more than flutter, and her pulse raced. Suddenly she felt very self-conscious sitting in her bed in nothing much more than a T-shirt. She fought the urge to pull the covers up higher on her chest because that would just be ridiculous. Kenner’s eyes were piercing, as if she could see right through the sheet, blanket, and her T-shirt. Her nipples hardened.

  Heat ran through Andrea from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. Now she wanted to toss off the covers and everything underneath. “Is that for me?” Her voice quivered a bit. Did that question have a double meaning?

  Kenner held her gaze as she walked across the room “Yes, black, I hope.”

  Andrea took the cup from Kenner, trying not to touch any part of Kenner’s hand in the process. “Yes, thanks. How did you know?” Andrea blew on the hot liquid and took a tentative sip.

  “Process of deductive reasoning. I didn’t see any creamer in your fridge or milk, for t
hat matter, and I couldn’t find the sugar. They taught us that in grad school,” Kenner added, smiling.

  Andrea almost choked on her coffee. Kenner’s smile was cute and playful. She lit up the room. “Obviously you aced that section,” Andrea added, not sure where her sense of humor had come from. She was usually not fit to speak to until after at least two cups of coffee and a hot shower.

  Kenner gave her the thumbs-up sign. “A-plus, but I failed miserably in sleeping-in,” she added dryly. “I hope you don’t mind me scrounging around in your kitchen?”

  Andrea took another sip. It was the same coffee grounds, pot, and water as when she made it, but this morning it was delicious. “No, not at all. Especially if it’s coffee.” She glanced at the clock. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” she said, sliding her legs out and onto the floor.

  “No hurry,” Kenner was able to say. Actually she was surprised she was able to say anything when Andrea’s legs slipped out from the covers. She caught more than a glimpse of a thigh before Andrea’s nightshirt fell down and covered it. Kenner knew she should leave, but she couldn’t help but stare at Andrea’s backside as she walked toward the bathroom. When Andrea turned around, Kenner knew she’d been caught looking. She felt her face flush.

  “What are you doing?” Andrea snapped. Before Kenner had a chance to answer, Andrea continued. “Just because I let you stay here last night does not give you the right to ogle me this morning. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Andrea held her hand palm up, signaling for Kenner to leave the room.

  “Hey,” Kenner snapped back. “Just a natural reaction. You showed, I looked.”

  “I didn’t show you anything,” Andrea said, her temper obviously flaring.

  “That’s not what I saw from over here,” Kenner said with a smirk.