Secret Hearts

by Radclyffe

  “Do you have money enough in the budget to buy materials for the construction?”

  “I can probably scare some up, depending on the amount. Will you be able to give me some idea on that?”

  “I’ll be able to tell you exactly what you’ll need for materials. I use a program that will calculate all the specs once I put the designs in. Then I’ll get you quotes.”

  Jordan studied her. “You’re not exactly a mechanic, are you?”

  Sometimes a little truth was enough. “Mechanical engineer. A hands-on engineer.”

  “Which is not exactly what I understood you to be at first,” Jordan said.

  “I might have let you misunderstand.”

  “I see.” Jordan waited a beat. “Is there some reason you don’t want to be more specific?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it me or everyone in general you don’t trust?”

  Kip winced. “It’s complicated.”

  “What isn’t?” Jordan shrugged. “Since we’re avoiding the personal, let me show you what I had in mind for the greenhouse.”

  “Thanks.” The ball of tension between Kip’s shoulders loosened when Jordan didn’t press her. Jordan was good that way. No matter what came up, Jordan seemed to handle it, seemed willing to give Kip space. She was glad for that and wished she didn’t need it. Ever since her mother died, she’d felt as if an invisible barrier stood between her and almost everyone else, everyone except Randy, and the necessary secrecy of the job didn’t help. Her father seemed comfortable with a kind of remote affection, and eventually she’d gotten comfortable with it too. She’d tried so many times to remember what he’d been like when they’d all been together as a family. He’d always been something of a shadow, the man who came home at night, sometimes after they were already in bed, and was gone in the morning before they woke up. And after her mother was gone, he was absent even more. Then there were nannies and, when they got older, housekeepers and other people who stood in for her parents. He’d been there, but never very close. After a while, she’d gotten used to the distance and found it harder and harder to be any other way with anyone else. Maybe that was why she didn’t date very much.

  Being around Jordan was the first time she’d wanted less space instead of more.

  “I was hoping,” Jordan said, stopping in the far corner of the lot, “we could do something back here. It doesn’t get enough direct sun to be great for most outdoor planting, but we’ll augment that with grow lights inside. Over the winter we’d have to do that anyhow. I was thinking forty by sixty?”

  Kip put her hands on her hips and studied the space, checking the pitch of the ground, the fence on two sides, the likely shade from nearby buildings. “Where do you want your access gate?”

  “What about the one in the alley?”

  Kip shook her head. “Too far away. You don’t want to carry all your supplies all the way down here. Plus, you want a double gate wide enough so you can back the truck in. I’d put it over there.” Kip pointed to the street side of the lot. “That way you can come right down…what is it…Tenth?…yeah, Tenth…and directly into here. You’ll need a good security fence, at least ten feet tall. Motion detector lights too. What kind of alarm system do you have for the trailer?”

  “Um, telephone?”

  “Not exactly what I was thinking. I know you don’t keep anything valuable in there, but you still ought to have some kind of security.”

  “How about a padlock?”

  “How about we at least get it wired to a local alarm and put some motion detectors at strategic points around the perimeter. This is too important a place to have it vandalized.”

  “I don’t see how we can afford that,” Jordan said.

  “Let me work something up, and then we can talk about it.”

  “I can’t even pay you for that, especially since I don’t think it’s something—”

  “It’s not a problem. I don’t expect you to pay me.”

  Jordan tilted her head. “Why are you doing it, then?”

  Kip thought about giving her some easy answer. She could always say she wanted to contribute to the community effort, and she did. She felt good doing something as simple as planting tomatoes and knowing someone would benefit from it. But that wasn’t the entire truth, and she was tired of giving Jordan half-truths. “I like it when you smile at me.”

  “Oh.” Jordan took a slow breath. The late afternoon sun was suddenly much warmer on her bare arms. The breeze ruffled the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. Her vision tunneled until the garden disappeared and only Kip remained. “Well. I’m not sure how to take that.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “All right, maybe I do.” She didn’t have much time to think, shouldn’t think. No…no, should most definitely think. “And if I do take it the way I think you mean it, I’d have to say—”

  “You’re not interested.”

  “That’s right.”

  Kip’s insides quivered for an instant, as if Jordan had actually landed the punch. She shouldn’t have been surprised. She already knew Jordan didn’t play games. She’d liked that about her from the start, although right now, she might’ve appreciated just a little bit of game playing. “Well, you said you’d be clear about what you wanted.”

  “I did, didn’t I.” Jordan considered that. “So I should be clear. I ought to say I’m not interested, because we’re not in any kind of position to do anything about anything else. But I didn’t actually say that, seeing how it’s not one hundred percent accurate.”

  “I’m trying to translate that,” Kip said, taking a step closer, “since I’m all for accuracy. But the only thing I’m hearing is that you didn’t say no.”

  Jordan braced her hand in the center of Kip’s chest. Kip was less than an arm’s length away now. Her heart beat quickly against Jordan’s palm, strong and sturdy and fast. As fast as Jordan’s heart tripped beneath her breast. The sun had somehow gotten behind them when she wasn’t paying attention to anything except Kip, just low enough to paint Kip’s face a shimmering gold and make her tousled hair glow like polished onyx. Kip’s skin gleamed with a bit of sweat from the work they’d done all afternoon. She couldn’t have been more handsome if she’d been plucked from one of Jordan’s fantasies. “I didn’t say no, but in case you were thinking of kissing me—”

  “I was. I am. To be accurate.” Kip cupped Jordan’s waist just above her hip, played her thumb up and down Jordan’s stomach.

  “This is where I say no,” Jordan whispered. Kip’s thumb teased at her stomach through her thin cotton shirt and her muscles twitched, sending a jolt down the inside of her thighs that jellied her knees. “It’s got nothing to do with wanting, exactly. Except I don’t want to go there with you. I’m sort of your boss—”

  “That’s bullshit,” Kip muttered, but she didn’t move any closer. Not without an invitation.

  “And more importantly, maybe, I’m not in the habit of getting involved with much younger women.”

  “Calling bullshit again,” Kip said, every muscle vibrating. Holding still took more effort than she’d ever had to exercise doing anything in her life. She’d rather be lifting a five-hundred-pound engine with her bare hands than stand her ground right now.

  “Neither is bullshit,” Jordan said, “and even if they were, I’m not quite ready to kiss a woman I barely know.”

  “Would you kiss me if you knew me better?”

  Jordan laughed. The woman was persistent, and she liked that even if she shouldn’t. Kip was also too damn persuasive for anybody’s good. Especially hers. “How can I know?”

  “I think you already do. Know, that is. Because I do.”

  “We’re not the same. I am the cautious type.”

  “And what am I?”

  Jordan smiled, lightly fanning her fingers over Kip’s chest before stepping back out of touching range. The safety zone was comforting, and a little disappointing. “I suspect you like adventure a little bit more than I d
o, and I’m not in the market for an adventurous woman. Or a complicated one.”

  “Is that what you think I am?”

  “Oh, I’m certain of that.” Jordan wished for the briefest instant she didn’t have to think about tomorrow, but she’d learned that lesson the hard way. Every action had consequences, sometimes ones that haunted forever. “I want to keep things uncomplicated between us.”

  “I’m not sure that’s possible, but if that’s what you want.” Kip grinned wryly. “You’re the boss.”

  Jordan didn’t argue, absolutely certain she’d made the right decision despite every instinct clamoring for her to call out, to call Kip back, when she walked away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Half an hour later, Kip let herself into her apartment. She was right, the place felt empty and sterile, the refrigerator was a sad comment on her absent state of domesticity, and a long shower didn’t do much to drive away the logy haze in her head or the steady churn of unrequited desire in the pit of her stomach. She was in that overtired, amped-up state that made falling asleep a remote possibility, and the memory of the almost-kiss pretty much guaranteed she’d lie awake tossing and turning. The insistent urgency in her loins would have subsided by now if she hadn’t glimpsed the swift flame of hunger in Jordan’s eyes when they’d touched. Brief and quickly extinguished, but definitely there. Her brain got the back-off message loud and clear, but her body hadn’t read the memo. To hell with it. Distraction was what she needed to cure the annoying thrum of arousal, and she had a list of antidotes at hand. She toweled off, pulled on sweats, and made the call she’d been avoiding all day. Her father answered his cell almost immediately.

  “Hello, Catherine.”

  “Hi, Dad. Have you had any word on Randy?”

  “No, and I don’t expect to. The director made it very clear. Their admission policy requires no outside contact while the residents”—he made a slight snorting noise, as if finding the term resident ridiculous—“get accustomed to the routine and show progress.”

  “What does that mean—how long?”

  “As I understand it, the length of time varies with each individual. They’re big on customized programs.” His tone suggested the whole topic was distasteful. “I was given to believe at least four weeks, perhaps a little longer.”

  “What about his medical evaluation and his psych assessment? Have any of the staff called? I understand the rehab rules, but he’s got to be having a tough time withdrawing from the substances he uses.”

  “I have no doubt he is.” Her father’s voice was laced with scorn. “But that’s what I’m paying them to monitor. Fortunately, as I understand it, the worst physical effects will be over fairly soon, and he’ll be properly medicated. Although I should think a little discomfort might be a good lesson.”

  Kip winced. She doubted tough love was really going to work with Randy, but arguing the point with her father would get her nowhere. “Do you have a number for the physician in charge of his care?”

  “No, and I didn’t ask for one. Whoever it is will contact us when it’s the proper time, I’m sure.”

  Kip closed her eyes. She had to believe her father loved Randy and the ice in his voice was from frustration rather than disregard. “I know you’re probably right, and he’s being well taken care of. It’s just hard to know he’s going through something this difficult without any support.”

  “Really, Catherine, it’s the best thing for him. He’s had altogether too much support during his life.”

  “What’s the alternative? We can’t abandon him just because he acts out when he’s unhappy or in pain. Everyone has their coping mechanisms, and his just aren’t very functional.”

  “I won’t argue with you about your brother’s situation,” her father said, sounding weary for the first time. “But it’s time he dealt with whatever his issues are and started thinking about the rest of his life. He’s not a teenager any longer, and he needs to shoulder his responsibilities.”

  “He’s still got a couple more years of college, and even then he might not be ready to just step into your shoes.”

  Her father laughed. “I have no doubt of that, nor do I plan for that to happen immediately. But he’ll need to step up sooner than expected.”

  Kip’s stomach tightened. “Why? Are you okay? Is anything wrong?”

  “No, just the opposite. In fact,” her father said slowly, “I’ve been intending to tell you, but with these most recent events, there hasn’t been a good time.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “I’m getting married again, fairly soon, and I’m planning on cutting back on my business responsibilities.”

  Kip reached behind her for the kitchen chair, pulled it over, and sank down. “You’re getting married.”

  “We’ll be married at the beginning of the summer,” her father went on as if discussing a corporate merger. “I’ll necessarily be absent more than usual around that time.”

  “Who?” Kip ran through the list of women in her father’s circle but couldn’t ever remember him showing any particular interest in anyone beyond the usual business or social interactions. She’d never once in all these years considered he would replace her mother. Replace all of them. And how ridiculous was that on about a million levels? He was hardly replacing anyone, but it felt that way all the same. A new wife, a baby at some point probably, a new family. Theirs had fractured, and he was finally going to have one that was whole again that wasn’t going to include her and Randy. “Who is she?”

  “You wouldn’t know her. Barbara Fischer. She’s not local.”

  “How…” She cleared her throat. “Where did you meet her?”

  “On a flight back from LA, of all things. She flies with United.”

  “She’s a flight attendant?”

  “No, actually she’s a pilot. We met in the VIP lounge.”

  Kip had no trouble picturing it. Her father radiated power and assurance, and women probably found him attractive. “Well. I don’t know what to say except congratulations. I look forward to meeting her.”

  “Thank you,” her father said a little stiffly. “As to the other matter, I’m sure you’ll hear from your brother before I do. Please do whatever you can to keep him in there. It’s time he took charge of his life.”

  “Right, yes. I will. Good night.”

  “Good night, Catherine.”

  Kip set her phone aside and stared blankly across her kitchen. Her father was getting married and starting a new life. Why not? He’d been a widower now for almost fifteen years. He wasn’t as old as a lot of men who started second families. She’d just never imagined he’d actually want anything like that. But then, she really didn’t know what he wanted, other than dominating the business field. She shook her head. He had every right to be happy, and it was her problem if the idea left her feeling oddly disoriented and displaced. She could only imagine how Randy would take the news. What lousy timing. A surge of embarrassment followed quickly on that thought. As if her father should have to forgo happiness because Randy was unhappy. Because she was a bit at loose ends, settled professionally, but adrift in every other way.

  Tired of her own mental whining, Kip grabbed her leather jacket from the closet. What she needed was to get out of her apartment and shed her self-pity for a few hours. She was sitting in a neighborhood tavern watching a baseball game with no sound, nursing a draft long gone flat, when her phone rang. She checked it, saw Savannah’s number, and answered.

  “Hi.”

  “Why are you avoiding me?”

  “I’m not. Did I miss a call or something?”

  Savannah harrumphed. “I haven’t heard anything from you since we left the courthouse. I think that qualifies as avoiding. I don’t have any idea what’s going on with you. You could be in jail for all I know.”

  Kip shuddered. “Hey, be careful what you say. You don’t want to jinx me.”

  “Where are you right now?”

  “Riley’s.”

/>   “It’s a bar!” Savannah sounded aghast.

  “It has been for the last twenty years.”

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to be there. And you never go out to bars. Who is there with you?”

  Kip looked around the single large room with its scarred wood bar running down one side, a cloudy glass mirror fronted by shelves of faintly dusty liquor bottles, and a scattering of mostly mismatched tables and chairs. “About a dozen regulars and a couple of college kids.”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Who’s keeping you company—do you have a designated driver?”

  “First of all, I’m fifteen minutes from my apartment, so I definitely don’t need a driver. Second of all, I’m not drinking much. And thirdly, I don’t need a babysitter.” As she said it she thought of Jordan, whose company she definitely would have preferred to…anyone’s. The hungry longing she’d managed to ignore beneath the drone of bar voices and mindless TV came roaring back.

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “Gee, Savannah, thanks. First you try to find me girlfriends, now you’re trying to find me a chaperone?”

  “You shouldn’t be alone after everything that’s happened,” Savannah went on, completely undeterred by Kip’s sarcasm. “I’m coming over.”

  “Savannah.” Kip sat up sharply. “It’s after ten and pouring outside. You’re not coming out to a bar.”

  “I’m putting my coat on right now and requesting an Uber. I’ll be there in…wait…twelve minutes. Don’t leave.”

  “You’re pushy and annoying, you know that, right?”

  “But you love me,” Savannah said in a slightly singsong voice and disconnected.

  “Hell.” Half amused, half aggravated, Kip slid her phone back into her pocket. Maybe company wouldn’t be a bad thing. She wasn’t doing a great job not worrying about Randy, and she couldn’t go more than a few minutes without replaying every second of the last few minutes with Jordan. She didn’t usually come on to women, content to let things happen—or not. Jordan turned a key inside her, opened the door on a need she hadn’t realized was shut.