Blend

by Georgia Beers

  What the hell just happened? And what do I do now?

  Chapter Twelve

  Lindsay looked at the screen on her phone, set it down without responding. Again. She’d been texting with Maya early this morning when Piper had shown up, and Lindsay had made the mistake of telling her who, with two kayaks strapped to her roof, had just pulled into the driveway. Maya had demanded a full report and Lindsay had promised and now Maya was looking for details.

  But Lindsay wasn’t ready to share what had happened this morning.

  Mostly because Lindsay wasn’t sure what had happened this morning.

  Well. That was a lie. She’d made out with Piper Bradshaw in the front seat of her Audi SUV, that’s what had happened. What she wasn’t sure of was how it had happened. Or why. Or what she was supposed to do now.

  You made the move, the little jeering voice in her head reminded her. Not her smartest idea, not at all, because she had to work with Piper. She needed Piper. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Piper was the boss’s daughter.

  “Oh, God, what was I thinking?” She’d asked this question out loud about thirty-seven times already today, and it was always followed by the dramatic dropping of her face into her hands, and that was always followed by a groan.

  Lindsay had taken Rocket for a walk around the neighborhood in the hopes of clearing her head. When that hadn’t worked, she’d scrubbed her bathroom until she could see herself in every surface. When that didn’t work, she moved on to the kitchen. After that, she’d decided to come into work a bit early, focus on some paperwork, some ordering, maybe set up a few meetings with vendors. Anything to force her concentration onto something that wasn’t a hot brunette in skintight nylon with dimples that made her go weak in the knees.

  Didn’t work.

  Nothing worked.

  Now it was early afternoon, and she still felt as if Piper followed her around as she tried to do her job. Two customers sat at a table in the far corner of Vineyard, a man and a woman, their heads close together as they spoke in hushed tones. Lindsay had taken notice of them before. He was a bit older, maybe in his mid-fifties. She didn’t look any older than her early forties. Both wore business attire and they always came in around lunchtime or early in the afternoon. Never at night when there were more people, and Lindsay had never seen them on a weekend. She and Bridget often wondered if they were having an affair, had started creating little imaginary scenarios to represent their lives.

  Bridget came in to allow Lindsay to take care of some managerial things and do the payroll, and she stood behind the bar next to Lindsay, refilling the couple’s glasses. “The Clandestines,” she whispered, and Lindsay grinned.

  The door opened and they both turned; Lindsay suspected Bridget’s face held the same guilty expression hers did, as if the person coming in knew exactly what they’d been whispering about.

  But the person coming in was Piper Bradshaw.

  Gone was Kayak Piper. In her place was Business Piper. Black suit and skirt, candy apple red top underneath the jacket, hair in waves hanging around her shoulders. She radiated determination and seriousness as she marched right up to the bar. Bridget took the two glasses of wine and headed for the Clandestines.

  “Can I talk to you?” Piper asked quietly, her hazel gaze boring into Lindsay’s, something in them that she couldn’t quite put a finger on.

  “Sure. What’s up?” Lindsay set aside the tablet in her hand and gave Piper her full attention. “You’re early. I didn’t expect you until tonight.”

  “Not here.” Piper swallowed audibly. “In your office?”

  “Oh. Okay. Sure.” Lindsay turned and led the way into the back. Mentally, she prepared herself to be scolded or reamed out or at least get a good talking to about the morning. This is probably good. We’ll get it out there, laugh it off, and it’ll be done. Good. Necessary.

  Once in the office, she waited for Piper, who was closing the door behind them. When she turned and they faced each other, Lindsay actually caught her breath. Piper’s expression had changed. Dramatically.

  Gone was Business Piper.

  In her place was…

  Piper’s hands grasped Lindsay’s head and spun her quickly until her back hit the door and she let out a soft “oof.” And before Lindsay could even begin to process what was happening, Piper’s mouth was on hers. The kiss was deep. Thorough. Demanding. There was no question who was running this show, and it wasn’t Lindsay.

  Yeah, this was Takes What She Wants Piper.

  Lindsay’s brain seemed to short-circuit. She could focus on nothing other than Piper’s mouth, Piper’s tongue, Piper’s hands as they cradled her face. Lindsay felt herself floating, her entire existence in Piper’s (obviously) very capable hands and then—all contact was suddenly gone.

  Lindsay opened her eyes to see Piper, who had taken a very small step back from her, looking a strange combination of horrified, angry and…Lindsay squinted. Aroused. Yes. Definitely aroused.

  “What the hell?” Piper whispered.

  Lindsay could only shake her head.

  Piper brought her hand to her lips. “I don’t understand what’s happening. I can’t…” She gestured between their two bodies, still only a few inches apart. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “No.” Lindsay shook her head again, apparently unable to do anything else.

  “I mean, people who have to work together shouldn’t do this.”

  “No.” More shaking.

  “People who get on each other’s nerves shouldn’t do this.”

  “No.” Another shake, but with a ghost of a smile.

  “It’s a terrible idea. This.”

  And before Lindsay could lamely shake her head one more time like a damn bobblehead doll, Piper had grabbed her face and was kissing her again.

  This kiss was raw.

  Almost animalistic.

  And desperate.

  That’s the descriptor that fit best in the moment, and Lindsay latched onto it. It felt desperate, like they couldn’t not kiss, like it was as necessary as breathing. Before Lindsay realized what she was doing, her hands came up to Piper’s waist and pulled her closer so Piper leaned into her body. Lindsay ran one hand all the way up and slid her fingers into that soft, bouncy hair on Piper’s head, held her close, pushed her tongue into Piper’s mouth as deeply as she could.

  This time, when Piper pulled away, she stayed close, her forehead against Lindsay’s as she whispered one more time, “It’s a terrible idea.”

  This time, Lindsay nodded, whispered back, “It so is.”

  “You’re kind of a pain in my ass.”

  “Right back atcha.”

  “Okay. Good. I’m glad we settled that.”

  And Piper kissed her once more. Softly this time. Quickly.

  Then she moved Lindsay out of the way, opened the office door, and left before Lindsay could even register that it was done.

  Lindsay watched her go, watched the way her body moved as she walked. The broad shoulders. That gorgeous ass that Lindsay now chastised herself for not getting her hands on. Those ridiculous legs. When Piper was out of sight, Lindsay closed the office door quietly so she could collect herself.

  If that was even possible.

  Fingertips against her own swollen lips, Lindsay forced herself to breathe slowly and easily, to calm her hammering heart. There was a gentle but insistent throbbing between her legs, a throbbing she hadn’t felt in a very long time, and her blood seemed to be racing through her system at warp speed. She closed her eyes, inhaled slowly, and held it before letting it out.

  Had she ever been ambushed like that?

  More importantly, had she ever been this turned on?

  Slowly, she shook her head, back and forth, back and forth.

  No. No, she had not. Of that she was certain. And the sheer truth of it was almost frightening because it had only been a kiss. Piper had done nothing more than kiss her, and yet Lindsay’s body had prepared itself in anticipation of more.
>
  She was so ready for more.

  It was more of a flop backward than an actual sit when she settled into the desk chair, like her bones had liquefied and her body simply…fell. Then she dropped her head to the desk with a thump, lifted it an inch or two, dropped it again. Four times.

  Two simple words kept running through her head on a continuous loop. Just two. The same two, over and over.

  Now what?

  * * *

  What was happening to her?

  Piper didn’t like this. Not one bit. She was always in control. Always. No questions asked. She’d been like that since she was a kid. Gina said she was a control freak, and Piper could never argue with her, because it was absolutely true. Piper didn’t like feeling untethered. She didn’t like to drift. She wasn’t a raft. She wasn’t a kite. She was the mistress of her own destiny. Things didn’t happen to her. She made them happen.

  Why was Lindsay so different? Why did she find herself so physically drawn to her recently? Why now? Granted, she hadn’t spent a lot of time with her in the past, but she’d met her. She’d seen her. And not once in the past had Piper wondered what she’d look like naked, what her skin would feel like under Piper’s fingers, what she’d sound like when she came.

  “For God’s sake,” Piper muttered, scrubbing a hand over her face as she sat at her desk in her office and faced the windows. She had barely any recollection of her drive to Vineyard an hour ago. A few glimpses of a traffic light or a right turn popped into her brain, but she’d mostly been on autopilot. The next thing she was aware of was turning Lindsay and backing her into the door with a thump.

  And then they made out like two kids on prom night.

  It wasn’t the kissing that had Piper freaking out. She knew that. Not that the kissing wasn’t something that warranted scrutiny, because it absolutely did. But at the moment, Piper was more shocked by her own inability to control herself. It was true that Lindsay had opened the door by kissing Piper that morning in her car, but in normal life, Piper would have easily waved that off, chalked it up to a fun few minutes and nothing more, never given it another thought. The fact that she hadn’t been able to wipe it from her brain all morning had nearly driven her insane. She replayed it over and over as her body thrummed. She’d sat through a two-hour meeting with nine other people and could barely recall what they’d talked about because all she did was fantasize about kissing Lindsay again. About doing more with Lindsay.

  So, the instant she had a free half hour, she’d hopped in her car, driven to Vineyard, and kissed Lindsay senseless in her mother’s office.

  “What the fuck,” she whispered, in disbelief. Not one to swear, the surprise appearance of the F-bomb was a pretty good indicator that Piper was no longer in control.

  What was happening to her?

  A light knock on her door pulled Piper back to the reality of her job and she almost jumped up with joy to say thank you. Instead, she simply called out, “Come in.”

  “Hey there.” It was Ian. He looked only slightly less frazzled than the last time they’d talked.

  “Hey,” she greeted as he entered.

  Ian was almost always impeccably dressed. Perfectly pressed suits, power ties, shined shoes. He took the role of office professional very seriously. Today, though, it was as though he’d slipped down a couple rungs on the ladder of Look the Part. His jacket was missing; Piper envisioned it tossed haphazardly somewhere in his office down the hall. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to reveal forearms covered in dark hair. His striped tie was askew, as if he didn’t want to take it completely off, but couldn’t stand it around his neck. He crossed the office and dropped into one of her extra chairs.

  “I emailed you that report.”

  “I got it.” Piper studied him. “You okay?”

  He shrugged, coupled it with a shake of his head. “I just hate this, you know? I realize we’re of different schools of thought here, but I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I just feel awful.”

  Piper flashed back to her conversation with Lindsay about Piper and Ian knowing their staffs were most likely going to be let go.

  “I’d warn them.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “But you’d get fired.”

  “Yeah, but why would I want to work for a company that would put me in such a position? They obviously suck.”

  Lindsay and Ian would get along really well.

  Piper managed to redirect her focus and listen to Ian, who thankfully did not continue on his path of this is driving me crazy but instead veered into more business-related things. Piper felt a surge of relief, because she was doing enough wavering in her own head. She didn’t need Ian tipping any scales for her. But after a few moments of discussion on another project, when Ian stood to leave, Piper stopped him.

  “Are you…?” She let the sentence dangle, scratched the back of her head. When she looked up at Ian, he was waiting expectantly, openly, his expression friendly. He really was a good guy. “Are you going to tell your people?”

  He nodded. “I have to. I won’t be able to look at myself in the mirror if I don’t.”

  “When?”

  He hesitated then, the openness dimming a bit.

  Piper held up a hand. “I’d never tell anybody. I promise. I was just curious if you had a timeline.”

  “I haven’t decided on an actual day, but I want to give them enough notice before the actual merger is announced. I want them to have time to go looking if they want.”

  Piper nodded. “Makes sense.”

  They stood for several beats, looking at each other, then glancing away, then meeting gazes again. Finally, with a nod, Ian took his leave.

  He’d left Piper with a lot to think about.

  Just what she needed.

  She let her head drop back along the top of her chair and groaned.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I don’t love this one. It tastes a bit…musty.”

  It took every bit of energy Lindsay had not to roll her eyes at this man as he sat at the bar in front of her and finished the sample she’d poured him of the French Syrah/Grenache blend. The staff had dubbed him Mr. Can I Taste That. He wasn’t a regular, thank goodness, but he’d been in enough times and gone through the same ritual enough times for the staff to see him coming and run to get Lindsay to wait on him. None of them wanted to deal with him and his finicky ways. The man was probably in his mid to late fifties, rail-thin and balding. His clothes were nicely tailored and he gave off an air of good education and an upper-class upbringing. Lindsay could almost hear Mrs. B.’s voice saying, “Just because somebody has money doesn’t mean he intends to spend it.”

  “I’d like to try the Malbec,” Mr. Can I Taste That said, pointing at the Argentinian wine in the menu and pronouncing it male-beck rather than mall-beck.

  Lindsay heard Bridget cough behind her, knew that was code for a snort of laughter. “Sure,” she said, and turned to pour him a taste. She knew from experience that by the time he decided on a wine, he would have sampled maybe four or five—which would pretty much add up to an entire glass of wine he would end up drinking for free.

  Gotta choose your battles, Mrs. B. would say.

  It was after six, and the crowd was fairly steady. Not big, but not tiny, and Lindsay tried not to focus on the fact that business was definitely picking up. She had a woman named Patrice Dymond lined up for the weekend—a jazz singer in her fifties who brought her own keyboard player and a voice as velvety as a good Merlot, if her YouTube clips were any indication. Lindsay had begun running a contest on the Vineyard Facebook page, getting people to show up for a free glass of wine if they brought a friend who’d never been. It obviously wasn’t something they could enforce, so she played it kind of fast and loose, but Lindsay was sure she’d brought in some new customers via social media.

  Mr. Can I Taste That was making a face at the Malbec (but drinking it all) when the door opened and Piper walked
through. Lindsay’s body betrayed her the instant their eyes met. Her heart rate kicked up. Her stomach muscles tightened. Her underwear dampened.

  Goddamn it, how does she do that?

  Piper must have come from work, as she wore the same suit she had on earlier that day, but her expression was different. Lindsay studied her from across the wooden floor, trying to decide which Piper she was getting this time.

  Mr. Can I Taste That pulled her attention away from watching Piper cross the room toward her by sliding his (empty) glass to her. “How about the Shiraz? Let me give that one a whirl.”

  Lindsay forced her eyes off Piper and poured the wine, giving him as little as she could get away with. When she looked up, Piper was standing next to him.

  “Hey,” Lindsay said, as she slid the glass back to her customer. When she made eye contact with Piper, the heat rose up through her body so fast she was surprised she didn’t break into an immediate sweat.

  “Hi.”

  Piper seemed…serious. It was the only word that fit. But not serious in a, “I’m about to kiss your face off” way like earlier. Serious in a “I’m about to tell you something you probably won’t like” kind of way instead. Lindsay felt herself automatically bracing. “Wine?” she asked Piper.

  With a shake of her head, Piper declined as she was reaching into her bag. “I went over those numbers regarding the patio.”

  “Okay.” Lindsay watched as Piper pulled out an envelope and slid it across the bar top.

  “This is what I’m willing to allow for the changes you want to make. If you have any questions, feel free to call me.” With that, Piper turned on her high heel and clicked her way back to the door and out of the wine bar. Lindsay stared after her, brow furrowed.

  What the hell?

  A large party entered Vineyard after holding the door for Piper, so Lindsay stuffed the envelope into the back pocket of her jeans and did her best to focus on her job. Not on the woman who had kissed her senseless that afternoon and pretty much blown her off this evening.