by Tina Michele
“Maybe. Giles was a very kind and generous man, so I know it’s possible. And you have to admit, it would be something to call one of these places home.”
“See. It’s not so bad.” Tara felt hopeful as Belle opened herself up to the possibility that not all millionaires were pretentious pricks.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Belle said as they pulled up behind Kyle and Andrew. “I won’t be mad if you back up right now and drive away.”
Tara looked over at Belle whose mouth was agape with shock. Granted, the Hicks estate was exceptionally grand. But it was a showpiece of pure love and devotion that her parents had created together. Tara contemplated taking Belle’s out, but before she could shift into reverse, a line of cars appeared behind them. Tara’s heart raced. There was no way in hell she could tell Belle right at that moment that she was Tara Hicks, daughter of the evening’s muckiest-mucks.
She averted her eyes as the gate attendant asked for a party name. Thankfully, Belle answered for her so she didn’t have to. He checked off their names and directed them forward. They parked and followed the crowd of people into the house. Tara kept her head down and tried to keep herself hidden in amongst the herding guests. Once they were inside, Tara scanned the room for familiar faces, and to her dismay they were everywhere. She had never before felt so visible at one of her parents’ events. Kyle and Andrew excused themselves to meet up with the other members of the company while Belle stood close by.
“Let’s get this party started,” Belle said as a tray of champagne floated by.
Tara grabbed two glasses from the tray. She spotted a quiet opening next to the far wall of the foyer rotunda and grabbed Belle’s hand. She led her along the perimeter of the room. When they stopped, she downed the entire glass and picked up another from the passing server.
“This place is even more impressive than I expected.” Belle turned in a complete circle.
“It’s all right,” Tara said without taking her eyes off the crowd.
“Are you kidding me? I’m almost certain that is a Ming dynasty moon flask vase worth something like six hundred thousand dollars,” Belle proclaimed in a failed attempt at a whisper.
Tara had no idea, but she knew her mother had once threatened her with boarding school when she caught her trying to sneak it out of the house for show-and-tell. “So they have expensive stuff. Don’t most of these people?” Tara noticed a man squinting at her from across the room, and she grabbed Belle by her shoulders and turned their backs to him.
“Oh my, is that a Rembrandt?” Belle walked away and disappeared into the library.
Tara felt more comfortable in this room, as it was void of people and she had no chance of being recognized. She closed the door behind them. Belle was so caught up in the painting that she didn’t even notice.
“A what?”
“A Rembrandt! Rembrandt Van Rijn, only the greatest Dutch painter in history. The Night Watch? Storm on the Sea of Galilee?” Belle listed off the paintings, but they were lost on Tara. “No?”
“Sorry. No.” Belle moved in so close to the painting it was as if she were trying to smell the paint. “What are you looking at?”
“I think this is the real thing, Tara. And if it is, it’s worth millions!” Belle looked at her and her eyes sparkled with excitement.
Tara watched as Belle’s body vibrated with passion. “Millions, huh?” Tara was certain her parents had spent at least one or two on it. She remembered not being impressed when they brought it home. Certainly not like Belle was at that moment.
“Yes, Tara. Like thirty million!”
“What the hell!” Tara said.
*
“Yes! Maybe even more.” Belle’s skin buzzed. “Look here.” Belle pulled Tara in close to the painting. “Look at the detail around the eyes. It’s his classic style. He put all of the detail here in order to draw us in.”
“I see.”
“I wonder if they’ve had this analyzed by the Rembrandt Society? They should for insurance purposes alone. But how much do you want to bet they don’t even know what they have here? The rich buy art because someone tells them they should. I’d say most of them have no idea what they even have hanging around. Giles was different. He knew what he had, and he appreciated it.”
“As a matter of fact, that is a 1635 Dutch painting on a beechwood panel painted by a student in the style of Rembrandt,” a tall, elegant woman with dark hair said as she glided toward them.
“It can’t be a pupil,” Belle said.
“Belle, let’s go.” Tara grabbed her by the hand and tried to pull her away.
The woman approached and smiled kindly. “It’s okay. Stay. I’d like to hear what she has to say.”
Belle cleared her throat, attempting to hide any discomfort or intimidation. “I was just saying that I don’t believe this was done by a Rembrandt student, but by the master himself.”
The woman looked from Belle to Tara and back. “How so?”
“Okay. Well, here for example.” Belle motioned for the woman to come closer as she had done for Tara. “Unfortunately, the years of varnish obscure the true color and intricacies, but you can see the detail around his eyes. And right here, in the fluidity and texture of the fabric. And you said beech. During the 1630s, Rembrandt’s canvas of choice was beech, not oak like most.”
“Interesting,” she said as she backed away from the painting and smiled.
“Can I ask you why you haven’t had the piece restored?” Belle found it peculiar that the piece hadn’t been cleaned, nor had the aged and yellowing varnish been removed.
“I wasn’t aware it hadn’t been done. I expect that my art dealer should have advised me to do so had he thought it necessary.”
“Any dealer worth a shit would have.” Belle regretted her candor when she heard Tara’s quiet gasp. “I apologize for that, ma’am.”
The woman laughed. “Oh my dear, never be sorry for speaking the truth. So, what else should my shitty dealer have told me about this piece?”
“Well, first of all, if he sold you this unrestored painting for anything less than four million without an appraisal by the Rembrandt Society and a Dutch art expert, then I would question him about it. Can I ask who your dealer was?”
“Certainly, if I can ask a question first.”
“Of course.”
When the woman turned to Tara, Belle watched curiously. She wasn’t sure why she would ask anything of her since she’d not said a single thing the entire time. “What are you hiding this intelligent and beautiful creature in here for, Tara?”
Belle’s stomach turned over. “What?” Tara looked at Belle with wide eyes.
“We’re not hiding, Mother.”
“Mother? This is your…oh my God.” Belle felt sick. She had gone on and on about the pretentious rich people who lived in the house and the whole time that was Tara’s family.
“Belle, this is my mother, Mrs. Linda Hicks.”
“Hicks? Hicks Architecture Group.” It was all coming together. The ballet in honor of the architect and design firm, the building Tara took her to on their date, the fundraiser for the company. “You knew where we were coming tonight and you didn’t tell me?” Belle backed away from Tara and her mother. “Ma’am, I am so sorry for everything I said. I didn’t know. I should go. I have to go.”
“Belle, wait!” Tara called out to her, but she didn’t stop.
When Belle got out to the driveway, she realized that she had no way of escaping. She hadn’t driven; Tara had. Tara Hicks, daughter of the prominent millionaire Hicks philanthropists, architects, and patrons of the arts. “I made a complete fool out of myself again!” Belle tried the door on Kyle’s car, but of course it was locked. “We are on an armed and gated millionaire compound and you lock your fucking car!” she said as she slammed her hands onto the roof.
“Belle!”
She looked over and saw Tara coming toward her. “Just don’t. What the hell are we doing, Tara? We are dri
ving ourselves crazy trying to make something of this—whatever this is. And the whole time you’re lying to me.”
“I didn’t mean to lie to you. But I guess I didn’t mean to not lie to you either. I just…I don’t know what we’re doing, but I don’t want to stop. No matter how messed up it is, when we are together, I can’t stop thinking about you.” Tara moved toward her, but she backed away.
“What does that even mean, Tara? You didn’t mean to lie? So while we were sitting in your parents’ driveway at the gate it just slipped your mind?” Belle took several deeps breaths. Her heart and mind were in a race of anxiety.
“It wasn’t a lie. I just didn’t know how to tell you. And when you started making all those assumptions about people, like me, I guess I panicked.”
“Panicked? You?” Belle had a hard time believing that the suave, smooth, and blindingly rich Tara Hicks ever panicked about anything.
“Yes. I’m not a robot, Belle. I have anxiety and fear, like anyone else. And right now, I’m afraid that if you leave, I’ll never see you again.”
The expansive yard was dark and dotted with massive live oaks that hung with Spanish moss. “Tara, we just don’t work. It shouldn’t be this hard, should it?”
“I don’t know, Belle. I’ve never cared enough to find out until now.”
That had to mean something, right? For Tara to admit that she might care about Belle, even a little? And if she was just playing the game like Tara, did it even matter? “So, do you even have to work?”
Tara picked at the bark on the tree. “No. Well, not really.”
“Not really? That’s not an answer.” In Belle’s world, you either had to work or you didn’t. There was no not really. “Tara, no more lies or secrets. Just be honest with me.”
Tara turned toward her. “Fine. No. I don’t have to work. I have a trust fund.”
Belle sighed. Of course she does.
“Don’t do that. If you want me to be honest with you then you can’t roll your eyes, or sigh, or give me that bullshit ‘of course, you do’ look.”
Belle was scolded. She didn’t mean to do those things, but she couldn’t deny that she had every time Tara told her something about herself, as if she already knew her. When the truth was she only assumed to know who Tara was. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Come over here, please.” Tara motioned in the direction of the line of trees that disappeared into the night. When she held out her hand, Belle took it and followed.
“Okay.”
Beyond the last tree in the line was a small white gazebo on the edge of a lake. The full Florida moon reflected off the smooth surface of the water. “Wow.”
“I know, right? It’s my happy place.”
Belle and Tara sat side by side and faced the lake. Their hands remained linked as they sat in silence for several long minutes. Tara’s hand was soft and warm, and it held Belle’s fast. It was a secure anchor in a moment where Belle felt like her world spun around her. “Tara, I am sorry. I don’t know you. The real you that is. Since the moment I saw you that night at the ballet, I’d made up my mind about the kind of person you are.”
“That soon, huh?”
“Yes. And then I saw you at the bar, and Hazel took you home.”
“What? Hazel from the bar? No way. I so did not go home with her.”
Belle was surprised. She’d been certain that Tara had slept with her. “Oh. You didn’t?”
“Belle, do you know why I work at the museum even though I don’t know the first thing about art?”
“I don’t know, to save me from men in dark hoodies?”
Tara laughed. “Well, it would seem so now, but before that. I saw you there one morning after weeks of seeing you in my head wearing that stunning red dress. You were standing in the middle of the de Lempicka exhibit dancing to some Disney show tune.”
“No, you didn’t!” If Belle could have been more embarrassed, she would have.
“I sure did. And I knew right then that I couldn’t let you walk out of my life a third time.”
“So you applied for the security job just so you could see me again? You could’ve just come back to the museum.”
“That wasn’t enough. And even now, the few times I see you during the week still aren’t.”
Belle didn’t know what to say. Tara had made it clear on the rooftop of her parents’ building that she wasn’t this woman she now confessed to be. “I don’t understand.”
“What?”
“Why are you putting so much time and effort into this? Me? Surely there are a few women left you haven’t slept with in this town. And far easier than I am.”
“True. You are proving to be more difficult than I expected.”
“Oh my gosh.” Belle pulled back her hand and swatted Tara in the arm.
“No. I don’t think about it like that. I just enjoy spending time with you, even if it always ends with a train wreck. I just can’t look away.”
“I know what you mean. And that doesn’t bode well for us, you know that, right?”
“Eh, who can say?”
Belle could say. No matter how much she wanted Tara to be the one, she knew there were just too many things working against them. In the end, Belle longed for a family, a wife and children to love and cherish the way she never was. Tara wanted everything but, and it wasn’t something Belle could compromise on. But for now, she wanted to take Kyle’s advice for a change and enjoy whatever the moment had to offer.
“You know, I didn’t mean to ruin this night for you.”
“I think I already told you that I hate these pretentious social gatherings of—”
“Muckety-mucks, right.”
“Right. But seeing as how that now includes you, I might have to review my stance.”
Tara stood and helped her up. Their bodies pressed together, and Belle’s skin ignited. Tara leaned down and brushed her lips over Belle’s and whispered, “Is there anything I can do to assist you?”
Belle thought of several things she could do in that moment. She just had to decide which one to try first. And if she was going to listen to Kyle, this was her one and only chance. “I have a few ideas.”
*
Tara wrapped her arms around Belle and held her close against her. She watched Belle’s eyes darken with desire, and Tara felt a rush of need surge through her body. They had been in this same position before, on the edge of fevered passion when something always pulled them apart. Tara prayed this time was different.
“Have you ever been with anyone out here?”
“You’re the first woman who’s ever even been to my parents’ home, Belle.” Granted, it was under unexpected circumstances, but it was true. Tara had never brought a woman home before and never to her favorite place on earth.
“Good.” Belle wrapped her arms over Tara’s shoulders and closed her eyes.
Tara took the cue and pressed her lips to Belle’s. In an instant, the gentle kiss turned into an intense fervor. Tara’s tongue tangled with Belle’s, and she delighted in the sweet taste of her. Each time they had kissed, Tara felt a deepening connection, but this time it was even more profound. Belle had never before seemed so present in the moment, and Tara was drunk on her.
When Belle pushed her back, Tara’s knees buckled beneath her and she landed on the bench behind her. She only had a second to be stunned by the jolt before Belle climbed onto the seat and straddled Tara’s lap. “What are—”
“Shh.” Belle hushed her with a sensuous suck on her bottom lip. Tara’s legs turned molten and a fire burned low in her belly.
Belle ran her fingertips up the side of Tara’s neck. She felt her own pulse pounding under Belle’s touch. It thrummed in cadence with the throbbing between her legs. Belle pulled her skirt high on her thighs so she could press herself down onto Tara’s lap. Tara felt the heat from Belle’s core push down onto her own. The seam of her slacks pressed into her clit, and she throbbed against the pressure. Tara gripped Belle’s hips an
d held them as she bucked her own upward. Belle moaned, and Tara’s center liquefied. Tara fervidly claimed Belle’s mouth with her own. She needed to be inside her. She needed to feel Belle’s smooth, wet heat against her hand.
Belle fumbled with Tara’s tie until she had it loose and tossed it to the ground. She flicked each button of her shirt open and then pulled it free from her waistband. Belle growled at the undershirt that prevented her from accessing Tara’s breasts.
The ravenous sounds Belle made fueled Tara’s own primal need. She needed her, now. She reached behind Belle and unzipped her dress to her waist. The strapless gown slipped down and exposed Belle’s pink nipples and voluptuous breasts. Tara’s mouth watered, and she bent her head to take a firm nipple into her mouth. Belle’s head fell back as she offered herself to Tara. Tara flicked and twisted the other nipple between her fingers as her tongue danced over the one in her mouth.
Belle writhed and squirmed on Tara’s lap, pressing herself down onto Tara’s leg. Tara’s thigh was wet from Belle, and she couldn’t hold back any longer. Tara slid her hand up Belle’s smooth thigh toward her hot, wet center. She shuddered with anticipation as she pushed aside Belle’s panties and brushed against her swollen clit. Belle’s body shook from the contact.
“Please. Touch me,” Belle begged.
Tara didn’t wait and slid her fingers through Belle’s satin folds. Tara moaned in pleasure at the feel of Belle’s beautiful body in her hand. She unbuckled Tara’s belt and slid her hand into her pants. Just as her finger flicked across her pulsing clit, Tara pulled Belle’s hand free. “Just let me touch you.” Tara slipped two fingers inside Belle, and she gasped. Belle rocked and bucked on Tara’s hand as she pushed her fingers inside her. “Oh God, Tara.”
Tara pressed her hand to Belle’s shoulder and leaned her back to access more of Belle. Belle grabbed Tara’s arm for balance as she leaned back and opened herself up for her. Tara thrust her fingers in and out as Belle moved in rhythmic unison. She was close. Tara could feel Belle begin to tighten around her fingers. Belle shook and squeezed herself around Tara’s hand as she pulled every ounce of pleasure from Belle’s body. Belle cried out in ecstasy and fell in sated satisfaction onto Tara’s shoulder.