“Oh.” Regan pushed some noodles around with her fork. “I’m sorry.”
Mel held her face rigid. “It was a long time ago.” To lighten the mood, she said, “So what did you study at Michigan? Computer science?”
“Ironically, women’s studies.” Regan’s tone became self-mocking. “I say ironically because, unlike you, I didn’t actually spend a lot of time studying women in college.”
“No?” Mel flirted. “I’ll bet they were studying you.”
“Is everyone this charming where you come from?”
Mel winked. “I guess you just hit the jackpot when you found me.” She took a sip of water and said, “You majored in women’s studies and became a software developer. How does that happen?”
Regan rolled her eyes. “The major was a rebellion against my parents, and the career is a concession to the real world.”
“What did your parents want you to do?” Mel asked, trying to imagine what it must be like to defy parental expectations.
“Something lucrative, I guess. Something respectable. I don’t think they cared to think about my life deeply enough to get specific in their expectations.”
Whoa. Mel flinched at the barely veiled bitterness. I guess I’m not the only one with an uneasy relationship with her upbringing.
“I don’t see them very often.” Regan continued. “I mean, they’re good parents and everything. I always had everything I wanted—well, except tuition after I declared my major. They’re just really distant. They don’t really know me, and I don’t think they want to.” Her eyes grew sad and Mel extended her hand to enclose one of Regan’s.
I can’t stop touching her, she realized, staring down at their hands, her own olive complexion a sharp contrast against her date’s pale pink skin. “It’s their loss,” she said, and her voice was rough. “You’re an amazing woman.”
Regan’s cheeks turned an immediate flaming red, and she rocked in her chair for a moment before leaning forward and planting an impulsive kiss on Mel’s temple. “Thanks,” she breathed.
Mel shivered at the contact and struggled to maintain some semblance of the stoicism that she normally wore like a mask. More than three years on the force, seeing the things she’d seen, and what finally undoes her is a 5’3” self-professed computer nerd? Disbelieving, she stroked the inside of Regan’s wrist. Everything about the evening felt revelatory.
“So your parents actually stopped paying for your school over women’s studies?”
“Sort of. My dad threatened to withdraw my tuition to try and make me see his point of view. That pissed me off, so I called him on it. I told him that he could have his tuition, and I’d have my women’s studies degree.”
“Wow.” Mel felt her respect for Regan grow by leaps and bounds. “Just like that?”
Regan leaned across the table and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. All lingering shyness seemed to have disappeared. “It wasn’t as ballsy as it sounds. Remember I told you that I wrote shareware programs to pay my way through school?”
“Yeah.”
“I’d actually just completed a pet project of mine a couple of months before my little ‘disagreement’ with my parents. I’d released it as shareware for fun, you know, to see if anyone would like it. And by the time my father threatened me, I’d already made a couple thousand dollars.” Regan shrugged her shoulders, the picture of nonchalance. “Hell, I had just started receiving payments and they were coming in fast. I figured if I was careful and saved what I made, I could at least pay for the rest of the school year.”
“I bet your dad was surprised.”
“Oh, my God, you don’t even know,” Regan laughed. “Once he realized that I was challenging him, he couldn’t back down. I couldn’t, either. I’m pretty sure he thought I’d come running back, begging for help after a few months. I don’t think he’s ever quite gotten over the fact that I didn’t need them anymore, that they didn’t have a say anymore.”
“God,” Mel picked up another breadstick and took a careful bite. “That’s awesome—writing software that earned you a couple thousand dollars is a big deal.”
“Seventy-five thousand dollars,” Regan mumbled.
Mel nearly choked on her breadstick. “What? Holy shit! Seventy-five thousand?” Damn, that was impressive.
“It was pretty successful. I even released a couple of later versions.”
Could she be cooler? “What the hell did you write?”
“Um.” Regan’s cheeks blazed impossibly hotter.
Mel couldn’t stop a slow grin. “Spill it,” she commanded in her very best interrogatory voice.
“Well, this was back before all the peer-to-peer stuff they have today and, well, you know, the Internet wasn’t nearly as easy to navigate, so there was a certain demand—” She grinned as Mel poked her in the arm. “I called it PornSpider. It was basically a big old porn search engine.”
Mel exploded into loud laughter, then clapped a hand over her mouth as a few diners craned around to stare.
“So anyway,” Regan gave Mel a pointed look, “it was just a little application that let you search the Internet for pictures and videos based on keywords and stuff. Had a built-in media player to display what it found…it was pretty popular for the lazy porn connoisseur. Not bad for its day, if I do say so myself.”
“My, my, dear Regan, and I thought you said you weren’t studying women in college.”
“Not real ones.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, one,” Regan admitted. “I had my first and only relationship during my junior year. Sarah. We lasted about a year, parted as friends.”
“And since then?”
“Not much to talk about. No relationships, a couple of casual things. Honestly, despite my porn industry ties, I’m pretty boring.”
“I doubt that,” Mel drawled. “The boring part, I mean.”
“And what about you?” Regan asked, her voice becoming bolder as she challenged the other woman. “How many women have you seduced with that Oklahoma charm?”
Mel could feel her face flood with heat. “Um…”
“That bad?”
Mel resisted the urge to curl a finger beneath the collar of her shirt and pull it away from her overheated neck. “I’ve never really lacked for company. It’s just that I haven’t had a lot of experience seeing women more than once.” She told herself to stop acting guilty. There was no reason to feel bad about her past. It wasn’t so long ago that she had been proud of it. “That sounds terrible, doesn’t it?”
“It doesn’t sound terrible. It sounds honest.” Regan was holding her napkin in one hand, tearing at the corner with the other. “I’m not sure why I’m any different, but I’m glad you thought I was.”
“You are different.” Mel met her earnest stare. What was it about this woman that weakened her defenses?
“So, how intimidated should I be?” Green eyes flashed with anxiety despite the playful tone. “Got a rough estimate?”
“Regan, there’s no reason for you to ever be intimidated by me. I may have slept with a lot of women, but there are plenty of things I haven’t experienced.” She paused, looking down. “Honestly, I should be intimidated by you.”
“By me?” Regan looked startled.
“Yeah, I mean, I don’t actually even know how to be in a relationship.”
Regan smiled, an expression that started at her gorgeous mouth and traveled all the way to her eyes, which sparkled with warmth. “I’ll teach you if you’ll teach me.”
Mel felt familiar panic start to rise at the words, an instinctive reaction from years of shutting herself off from everyone and everything around her.
Regan frowned a little and reached over to stroke her arm. “You seem bothered. What is it?”
“I don’t know.” Mel blushed at how transparent she was. “Doing something wrong. Disappointing people. Getting hurt.”
“I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better.�
� Regan propped her chin on a fist. “I don’t know what will happen, honestly. All I know is that you’ve yet to do anything wrong, and I can’t imagine anything about you that would disappoint me. And I promise to do my best never to hurt you.”
Mel’s vision blurred. She cursed under her breath, wiping her traitorous eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry.” She barked out a sharp laugh. “You must think I’m insane.”
“Not at all,” Regan said. “I think you’re wonderful.”
“And you impress the hell out of me.”
Regan looked as if she wasn’t sure what to say for a moment, seeming both pleased and embarrassed. Then her face brightened. “Wait a second…don’t think you’re getting out of it that easy!”
“Out of what?”
“You never answered me when I asked how many women there’ve been. And now I’m dying of curiosity.”
Mel hesitated. “Um, you first.”
Regan produced her own total without hesitation. “Three. Now you.”
Jesus, Mel thought. Three? “I don’t know. Sixty. Seventy.” Quickly, she added, “I’ve always been safe.”
“Holy moly!”
“Holy moly? Did you just say holy moly?”
Regan arched an eyebrow. “Yes, holy moly! You’re a veritable strumpet!”
A wide grin accompanied the gently teasing words and Mel relaxed as she realized that Regan didn’t seem put-off. In fact, she looked downright amused. “Yeah, well, strumpethood isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“It’s a tough gig, huh? I’ll try and remember that the next time I’m alone on a Saturday night.”
“I’m serious! It gets boring after, oh, number fifty or sixty.”
“My poor baby,” Regan cooed. “I’ll have to be sure to make life interesting for you again, won’t I?”
Coquettish, Mel thought. I’ve never had the urge to use that word, either, but she definitely sounds…coquettish. “I’d say you’re off to a really good start.”
*
Regan took her second wrong turn of the night just three blocks from Mel’s apartment. She cast a surreptitious gaze at her passenger, who was studying every CD she had in the truck. God, I hope she doesn’t notice that I keep getting us, quote unquote, lost. What a sad little ploy to prolong our date.
“What the hell is this?” Mel held a CD case with two fingers as if it might contaminate her.
Regan tilted her head to read the title. “The Spice Girls! It’s a classic!” She shot Mel a haughty look. “Put it down if you can’t appreciate it.”
“Classic, huh?” Mel snorted, tucking the CD back into its spot. “Let’s just put this away and I’ll pretend I never saw it.”
“Good idea,” Regan came to the end of the unfamiliar street, and braked at a stop sign, flipping on her turn signal. I can’t take another wrong turn, can I? I mean, that would be too obvious, wouldn’t it? She could feel Mel staring at her.
“I still think you’re adorable,” Mel said. “And so is the whole driving us around in circles thing.”
God, kill me now. Regan cringed.
“I don’t want this evening to end, either.” Mel’s voice was low and so quiet that Regan cursed the pounding in her ears that overwhelmed it.
Maybe it was the night sky; maybe it was the gentle fragrance on the breeze that blew through Mel’s rolled-down passenger window; or maybe it was just the way Mel made her feel like the kind of person she never thought she would be. Whatever it was, something infused Regan with a powerful wave of unexpected courage.
Okay, now or never, she thought, and asked, “Does it have to end?”
Her heart dropped into her stomach when this was met only by uneasy silence. Regan turned her truck on to a dark side street. Mel’s street. Why isn’t she answering me? She swallowed the lump in her throat, willing her face not to betray her humiliation. She doesn’t feel the same way.
“I want to say that it doesn’t.” Mel sounded uncomfortable. “But I think it does.”
“I understand.” Her voice was steady and calm, an absolute lie when she shook inside. “You don’t have to explain.”
She steered her truck into the driveway of Mel’s apartment complex and parked in an empty spot next to Mel’s motorcycle. She couldn’t meet Mel’s eyes. I thought she was feeling the same way.
“Regan, look at me.”
Mel’s gaze was full of warmth, affection, and, unless Regan was mistaken, powerful lust. “You know that I’m attracted to you, right?” She tilted Regan’s face toward her, two fingers under her chin. “I’m also interested in you. I want this—whatever this is—I want it to mean something.”
Regan held her breath when she saw the genuine feeling that shone from Mel. “So do I,” she whispered.
“But I don’t think I’m ready to make that kind of promise yet.”
“I’m not asking for a promise,” Regan said. “I’m not saying that to try and change your mind or anything, I just want you to know that it doesn’t have to be a promise.”
“But it does.” Emotion was raw and visible on Mel’s face. “I care about you, already, and I haven’t made love with anyone I cared about for a long time. So, for me, it’s going to be a kind of promise.” Her eyes dropped. “And I hope for you, too.”
Regan was stunned silent by Mel’s naked vulnerability. She’s taking this seriously. She’s taking me seriously. “I understand,” she said. “And I respect that. I was just feeling a little insecure. I want for it to mean something, too—for us to mean something.”
“You don’t play games, do you?” Mel touched Regan’s cheek, as if in awe. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that.”
Regan wrinkled her nose. “Life’s too short to play those kinds of games. What’s the point in not being honest?”
Mel broke into a grin, unbuckling her seatbelt so that she could wrap strong arms around Regan. “Don’t ever change,” she murmured.
“I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you.”
“Do you think I could get a goodnight kiss?”
Regan laughed and unbuckled her own seatbelt. You could get anything you want. She leaned forward and kissed Mel. Hard.
At first Mel seemed surprised by the fierce passion of the kiss, allowing herself to be moved backward by the force of Regan’s body. After a moment she regained control and pushed back, exploring Regan’s mouth with her tongue. A warm hand slid up over Regan’s collarbone, and possessive fingers curled around the curve of Regan’s neck. Regan had never been so turned on in her entire life. They broke apart gasping. Mel’s hand was still on Regan’s throat; Regan could feel her pulse racing beneath those fingertips.
“I need to get out of this truck before I throw you down and take you right here.” Mel fumbled behind her back for the door, eyes dazed and face flushed with arousal.
Regan groaned and let her eyes slip shut at the thought. “Not a good thing to tell me when I’m in this state. I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
“Moan like that again and I won’t be responsible for mine.” Mel found the door handle.
“I’m sorry.” It didn’t sound very genuine.
The corner of Mel’s mouth twitched. “Oh, please. Like I ever want you to apologize for being sexy.”
Sexy? Regan tried to decide how someone like Mel could ever find her sexy. Really?
Mel leaned in close and kissed the bridge of her nose. “Yes. You’re very sexy, Regan.”
Regan felt herself blush to the tips of her toes. “Likewise,” she managed.
Mel opened the door and got out of the truck. Sliding a hand into the back pocket of her jeans, she withdrew a battered leather wallet and fished around in it. “Call me, okay,” she said, passing Regan a business card.
Regan took the card without looking at it. “Count on it.”
The look Mel gave her—shy, excited, and anxious all at the same time—caused a funny feeling in the pit of Regan’s belly. It wasn’t a
feeling she was used to, though she had felt something similar once before, back in college. The feeling lingered after Mel closed the truck door and walked up to her apartment. It was still there when Regan could no longer follow Mel with her eyes. She drew a deep breath and then exhaled very slowly. She felt shaky and thrilled and scared out of her mind. She knew what that feeling was.
I could fall in love with her. Easily.
Chapter Four
Mel woke up with a frustrated groan. Her alarm clock was buzzing and her right hand was trapped in her pajama bottoms. She blinked in sleepy confusion, then remembered. Oh, yeah, I never did finish.
She slapped the alarm clock into silence and turned her face into her pillow. Right in the middle of the best fucking dream, too. Mel closed her eyes and tried to recall the fading details. Five more minutes and she would’ve had Regan completely naked.
“Goddamn alarm clock,” she complained to the print of Magritte’s La Magie Noire that hung on the wall. It was the only point of color in an otherwise spare room.
She sat up and swung her legs over the side of her bed, feeling the sleep-warmed skin of her bare torso pebble with gooseflesh in the cool morning air. It was 5:06 a.m. Not too bad. Her date with Regan the night before had thrown off her sleep schedule by a good hour and a half, and she felt it. She always felt it when something disrupted the order in her life.
It was only the inevitability of her morning routine that forced her out of bed. Rummaging in her dresser, she retrieved a variation of the same outfit she wore every morning: a pair of athletic shorts and a snug white sports bra. She got dressed on auto-pilot, and ambled into the room her apartment complex had obviously intended to be the master bedroom, but which she had converted into an exercise room. It wasn’t like she’d ever needed a big bedroom, especially when ending dates was easier if they didn’t wind up here.
Mel thought about Regan as she lifted weights. She didn’t usually think about anything of consequence. Most times, the challenge of lifting, of pushing past her pain, had the pleasant effect of clearing her mind of all thought. Not so this morning. She couldn’t get red hair and that shy smile out of her head. There’s no place like 127.0.0.1. What the hell did that even mean? Mel chuckled out loud and swiped the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead. Never had she thought so hard about a woman’s T-shirt.
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