Uh-uh. No. “That’s a very nice offer, but my cab will be here any minute.”
A pause. “Okay, then I’ll wait with you.” Lucy took a seat on the curb.
“What are you doing?” Kristin asked, eyeing Lucy and her newfound proximity.
“Waiting with you.” Lucy glanced around. “I just said that, no?”
“Not necessary.”
“It is so. You’re an attractive woman alone in a parking lot at night. No good-hearted human would leave you here. Someone could Kristin-nap you.”
She studied Lucy. “I see. And that’s you? A good-hearted human?” She hadn’t meant it as a dig but realized that’s how it had sounded by the overly wounded look on Lucy’s face.
“You may not realize this, Ms. James, because for whatever reason you’ve decided you hate me, but I am, in fact, a good person.”
She held up a finger. “For the record, I do not hate you.”
Lucy scrunched an eye. “Feels like you hate me.”
She couldn’t help but smile. Lucy, was…amusing, even when she didn’t want to find her amusing. And attractive, and she certainly didn’t want to find her that. Kristin held up one finger. “Just because we see things differently in regard to the press release doesn’t mean I hate you. In fact, it’s nothing personal at all. I’m sure you’re quite lovely.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. Except you did just storm out of the bar an hour ago. We haven’t quite dealt with that yet.”
Kristin nodded, as she had done that. Her feelings had been hurt and she’d been embarrassed. She now realized that she could have handled it all more in stride. “I apologize for the storming. It’s been a long day.”
“You can say that again.”
“I apologize. It’s been a long day.”
Lucy stared at her, mystified. “Pause the world. Did you just make a joke?”
Kristin felt the corners of her mouth tug. “A little one.”
“Well, color me impressed and willing to admit it. The crackerjack reporter has a humorous side. Who knew?” Kristin raised her hand. “Aha. And confident too.”
“That’s me.”
They stared out at the stationary cars in the parking lot for a few moments, the silence palpable before Lucy finally turned to her. “Okay. We should go now, yeah?”
“Go?”
“Your cab clearly stood you up and I’m going to drive you home.” Lucy stood and headed into the parking lot.
Staring after her, Kristin sighed in surrender. “Fine, but your good deed is not going to get me to kill the story.”
“Not at all shocking,” Lucy said without turning around. “You’re rather stubborn.”
“Hey! I have conviction. There’s a difference.”
Lucy passed her an overly sweet smile over the top of a silver Aston Martin. “Sure there is.”
Eight minutes later they turned into the Verde Oaks subdivision. Kristin pointed ahead of them. “Take the second right, and it’s the second to last house on the left.” Lucy pulled into the drive and ducked her head, peering up at the home.
“This is a very cute place with a lovely green door.”
Kristin cringed. “Thanks, but don’t look too closely. The green door is the best part.” Lucy raised a questioning eyebrow. “I was a bit misled in the rental process.”
“That should go in your article,” Lucy said. “Someone didn’t tell the truth.”
“You have a point,” Kristin said, laughing. She then took in the fact that Lucy was watching her with a curious expression, and she was instantly self-conscious. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
Lucy shook her head almost imperceptibly. “No. It’s just, you have a nice laugh is all.”
She nodded, meeting Lucy’s eyes. “Thanks.” Was it just her or had the mood just shifted completely? Because unless she was imagining it, there seemed to be a snap-crackle-pop thing in the air that didn’t have much to do with her news article. She opened the door, moving them out of it, focusing on her words and not the flip-flop her traitorous stomach was doing. “I appreciate the ride.”
“Anytime,” Lucy said. “You’d do it for me, right? You know what? Don’t answer that.”
Kristin shook her head and smiled. “Good night, Ms. Danaher.”
“Ms. James.”
Kristin headed into the darkened house and all but collapsed on her sofa, also known as the snuggliest sofa known to man. Big and tan and amazing with navy blue and white striped accent pillows, a gift from her mom.
In the midst of her snuggle, she ruminated over the day’s happenings, a practice that was part of her nightly decompressing ritual. There had been the meeting with Dalton, which reminded her she still needed to go over his notes for the story again. Then the less than thrilling conversation with her deadbeat landlord, resulting in four hundred dollars for a new dishwasher. Then there had been her frustrating interactions with Lucy Danaher along with the not so frustrating save-and-rescue. She turned onto her back and stared up at the popcorn ceiling.
Lucy was a puzzling person. That was for sure.
A puzzling person with thick dark hair and Bambi eyes, her brain amended. She smiled at the description, because there didn’t seem to be much that was innocent about Lucy Danaher.
*
The newsroom at the Union-Trib was a flurry of activity the following morning as San Diego was in the midst of a pretty big news week. A money-laundering politician, a local and well-liked weatherman caught with a prostitute, and a series of convenience-store robberies had all hit in just the past twenty-four hours. The buzz of chatter infiltrated the room as reporters called to verify facts and secure sources, and editors rushed to fill the news hole. The paper was put to bed at six p.m., which was an earlier deadline than Kristin was used to.
“Hey, James, you have the copy ready from the third Valero knock over?”
Kristin glanced up at Dalton and checked her watch. “I have five minutes.”
“Make that three.”
She kept her eyes on her monitor and focused on the words, rather than the gray-haired man with the crease between his eyes staring down at her. “I can have it for you in two if you give me a little breathing room. So how ’bout it, huh?”
He held up his hands and backed away. That was the thing about Dalton. He was gruff, but he was good at his job, which meant the notes he’d given her about her story the day prior had been good ones. Streamline. Narrow the focus and keep it simple. They were journalistic basics, but sometimes she needed to hear them.
After a quick proof of the robbery story, she hit the send button and fell dramatically backward into her chair. “Kristin James, out.”
Marissa, her colleague one desk over, shook her head. “Now you’re just showing off.”
Kristin passed her a smile. “A little. You almost done?” She glanced at the clock, noting how little time was left to hit their deadline.
“Watch this.” Marissa leaned her head very close to her monitor and made a show of hitting the send button. “I like to make them sweat.”
Marissa Cruz covered city politics for the paper and Kristin really liked her. They were similar in age and did pretty well together at the inner-office banter. Kristin had her pegged as a potential friend, though it was still a bit early to tell.
“I don’t know about you,” Kristin said, “but I could use a cocktail. Happy hour?” It was the first time she’d invited Marissa anywhere socially, but today seemed like a good enough time for it, as the day literally had not stopped since the moment they’d arrived at work.
“I would love to and we should very soon, but it’s my anniversary and my husband is taking me out. Sitter and everything.”
Kristin smiled. “Aww. Happy anniversary. How many years?”
“Seven, which makes it our wool anniversary. How in the world do you satisfy the wool category when it’s ninety degrees outside?” Marissa shrugged. “So I got him the DVD of Marilyn Monroe in The Seven Year Itch.”
“Clever.”
“I thought so. At least I’ll get a laugh out of it.” Marissa slipped her bag onto her shoulder and powered down her computer. “But we’ll get that drink soon, okay?”
“Holding you to it,” Kristin said and watched her coworker head to the elevator.
So she was on her own again tonight. What else was new?
She drove home exhausted, but not exactly looking forward to another night of her, a frozen dinner, and Ryan Seacrest. Not that they weren’t a great trio, but tonight the idea was barely tolerable. She could do some work, but honestly, her brain was fried from the crazy demanding news day. So last minute, Kristin made an executive decision and turned the car around.
The Lavender Room was fairly quiet when she arrived, but then it always seemed to be on weeknights. A small group of women sat around a circular booth directly across from the bar, laughing and seeming to have a good time. She nodded at them as she passed, took a seat at the bar, and smiled at the spiky-haired bartender as she approached.
“Let me guess? A pinot grigio?”
Kristin thought on this briefly. “I think I’m gonna branch out tonight. A glass of the Sterling cab, please.”
“Good choice.” The bartender nodded and poured, doing that little turn of her wrist that Kristin could never seem to master.
“Very impressive,” she said, moving her finger in a circular motion. “The twist at the end.”
“It was,” said a voice from behind her. “I’ll have a glass of the same, extra twist, please.” Kristin turned to find Lucy standing there, who held up her hands in defense. “I’m not stalking you, I promise.”
She sent her a sideways glance. “Jury is still out on that one.”
Lucy took the stool next to Kristin’s. “Well, let me know when they decide my fate. Jail’s not sounding so bad right now.”
“Rough day?”
“You could say that. I really shouldn’t even be here. I have contracts to peruse, presentations to prepare, and about fifteen managers who need to meet with me on various topics. But I think I just need a moment to catch my breath. Do you ever have that?”
“I do. It’s totally necessary, and you did the right thing.” Lucy’s hair was pulled into a thick ponytail today, which swirled luxuriously against her white suit jacket. Kristin wondered how one accomplished such a swirl, as she wouldn’t have a clue. Her ponytails were much more straightforward. Perhaps boring was the better word.
Lucy turned to her. “I didn’t ask if I could join you.”
Kristin waited for Lucy to say more but she didn’t. “This is true.”
“I suppose I could leave you to your drink.”
“It’s an option,” Kristin said with a smile.
Lucy raised a shoulder. “I mean, for all I know, you’re waiting on someone. A hot date perhaps.”
Kristin nodded. “Yep. The hottest. She’ll be here any minute now.”
“She?”
Kristin glanced around. “Well, we are in a gay club.” And then apologetically to Lucy, “Did you miss that?”
“Touché. And no, I definitely didn’t miss that.” There it was again. That moment of sustained eye contact that sped up her heart rate and left her mouth dry.
“Want to get a table?” Kristin asked.
“So you’re asking me on a date already? Wow, you move a little fast for me.”
Kristin shook her head. “You’re infuriating, you know this?”
“So you don’t want to go on a date with me?” Lucy was smiling in a way that told Kristin she was enjoying every minute of this. But she was also moderately adorable alongside the infuriating, which was an interesting dynamic. With Lucy, it all blended together.
“Let’s start with the table,” Kristin said.
“Well, okay. I can get behind this plan.” They picked up their drinks and made their way to a nearby cocktail table with a small candle flickering from inside a glass holder. The lighting was dim away from the bar, which added a whole new, calming element to the atmosphere.
“So do you come here a lot?” Lucy asked.
Kristin laughed. “Cue the flirtatious pickup line.”
Lucy’s jaw dropped. “I would never. You hate me. Known fact.”
“See, there you go again. I told you last night. I do not hate you. As in, I don’t. There’s a lack of hatred at play. We just have a few differences of opinions.”
“Right,” Lucy said, pointing at her, “the whole journalistic holier-than-thou thing. There’s that.”
“Hey! Now who’s hating?”
“Valid point. Cease-fire?”
Kristin nodded. “Cease-fire.”
She studied her drinking companion with interest. “So what’s your story, Lucy Danaher?”
“CEO by day, professional Lavender Room stalker by night. Oh, and I adore smoothies and rock and roll.” She sipped her wine and met Kristin’s gaze. “And now you know everything.”
“Smoothies, huh?”
“Strawberry is my favorite. Tell me one thing about you.”
“Just one?”
“I figured we should pace ourselves. See how it goes. I’d rather we not break into an enormous fight in a public place, so I’m baby-stepping.”
Kristin thought on this. “I like to run. I only get the chance a couple of times a week, but it’s an outlet. Do you run?”
“Only if something is chasing me.”
Kristin laughed. “Well, it’s great for stress. You should try it sometime.”
“Okay,” Lucy said, nodding. “I’m putting it on the list right after my recreational root canal.” The smile relaxed from Lucy’s face and she swirled her wineglass.
“Can I ask you a serious question?”
“Fair enough.” And then Lucy looked away and smiled.
“What went on in your head just then?” Kristin asked.
“You’ll think it’s stupid. You’re the super-serious type.”
Kristin let her mouth fall open. “I am not. Tell me what was funny.”
“Fair enough is a great drag-queen name. I collect them. It’s a thing.”
Now it was Kristin’s turn to smile. “I’m sorry. You collect drag-queen names?”
“I do. It’s a hobby. You run. I collect drag-queen names. Both are perfectly acceptable pastimes. You had a question?”
“Yes,” Kristin said, noticing for the first time a tiny scar just below Lucy’s eyebrow. She wondered absently how it had gotten there before forcing herself to focus. “Do I seem unapproachable to you?”
“To me. Yes. You turned the screws on me without warning in our business meeting. I’m right to be a little wary of you.”
“No, I don’t mean you. I mean the collective you. The larger you. You as in anybody. Do I seem unapproachable to the average person?”
Lucy glanced around and understanding flickered. “You mean to women. Lesbians.”
Kristin thought on this, recalling the nights she’d spent alone at this very bar. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
Lucy sat back in her chair. “Then yes.”
“What? Really? Why?” This so wasn’t fair. “I’m friendly enough. I smile. And I’m a genuine person.”
“It’s none of that,” Lucy said, pointing her finger in a circular motion.
Now Kristin was lost. “Well, what is it then? Just tell me what you think it is. Outside of the whole news story disagreement, I mean, that you find off-putting.”
Lucy bit her lower lip and seemed to consider how to proceed. It looked really good on her, the lip-biting thing. Kristin wouldn’t mind taking in that visual for a little while longer. “It’s not off-putting,” Lucy finally said. “It’s intimidating.”
“What is?”
“Well, have you looked in a mirror lately?” Lucy asked and calmly sipped her wine.
Kristin struggled to follow the logic. “Not since this afternoon. Why?”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Come on. You must know you’re gorgeous, and that
can be intimidating to…What should we call them? Interested parties of the lesbian variety.”
Kristin felt the blush hit her cheeks. “No. That’s not it.”
“I mean it is. Objectively. And if the two women at the bar who keep glancing over here every few minutes thought you would be halfway interested in them, they’d be over here buying you a drink.”
Kristin had never considered such a theory. She knew she was decent enough looking, but the fact that Lucy thought so was new and interesting information. “You think I’m attractive?”
“I didn’t exactly say I thought that. We were talking about the collective, remember?”
“Oh.”
A pause. “Of course I think you’re attractive,” Lucy said, relenting in a semifrustrated huff. “I have a pulse. God.”
Something warmed in Kristin and she smiled. The wine gave her an extra shot of courage. “Do you have a crush on me, Ms. Danaher?”
Lucy shook her head and smiled widely. “No way. You’re the one who asked me on the table date, remember? I think it’s the other way around. You don’t ask people to tables unless you’re crushing.”
“I did do that, and I’m thinking right about now that it was a good decision.”
At Kristin’s words, Lucy’s smile dimmed and her lips parted. What was it about this woman who could frustrate her one minute and charm her the next? Kristin wasn’t sure, but she knew one thing. She wanted to find out.
They killed a second glass and argued over the benefits of the impending warmer weather. “It’s awesome,” Lucy said. “Pool time, suntans, and barbecues.”
Kristin accepted the bill and her credit card from the waiter. “Sunburns, sweat, and tourist season.”
“The Fourth of July,” Lucy countered.
“Ohh, I do love the Fourth. I can concede on that count. There’s something about the fireworks bursting and filling the sky that makes my heart stop.”
“Mine too,” Lucy said quietly. They smiled at one another. “Thanks for the drinks.”
Kristin closed the leather portfolio that contained her credit card slip. “Don’t thank me. You’re getting it next time.”
Sweet Hearts Page 3