Lana blinked. “Why?”
“Most of our guests are here for the weekend events,” Cindy said, as if it should be obvious. “I thought it would be awkward to have patrons staying here who were—less than okay with everything that was going on. Do you know them?”
“Not really. We just met them in our travels and heard they might stay here. You were right. They wouldn’t much like what’s going on this weekend.” Michelle blithely accepted the room cards. “Thank you so much.” She flashed a smile at Lana. “Get the bags, dear.”
“What the hell was all that about?” Lana demanded after they’d moved the car down to the other end of the lot where their unit was located and were unpacking the trunk. “What weekend? And those men you were asking about. Are they the ones who forced you off the road?”
“Yeah, Pierre and Juan,” Michelle responded. “I didn’t see who was in the car that ran me off the road, but I figured it was them. They’re Hector’s muscle. We’re lucky they aren’t welcome at the inn this weekend. It means they had to find another place to stay, and that should delay them even though they’re a day ahead of us.”
“What is this weekend again?” Lana dropped her suitcase onto the bed and looked around the room. It was simply decorated, but clean and bright, even on a late-February afternoon. “And how do you know about it?”
“I read the poster when we were coming in,” Michelle said, giving her an odd look. “Didn’t you see it? It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow. Today, there’s a farmer’s market in the Port Williams fire hall for artists and craftspeople, a brunch tomorrow morning at the inn’s restaurant, feminist seminars going on at the university in the afternoon, and finally, a dinner/dance tomorrow night at someplace called the Warehouse in Wolfville.”
“Valentine’s Day.” Lana was honestly astonished. She hadn’t even thought about the date or its significance.
“It’s a gay and lesbian event,” Michelle said. “Which makes it a perfect cover for us. And also explains why Miss Cindy didn’t want a couple of homophobes staying here.”
“Is that why you only booked one room?” Lana demanded. “For cover?”
Michelle leaned over and patted her on the right hip. “Not just for that,” she said, her voice dropping huskily. “We might as well enjoy each other while we’re here.”
As much as she still had doubts about this whole situation and about Michelle, now, as well, Lana couldn’t deny the chill of desire that spiked through her, or the sense of anticipation that rose as Michelle threw an enticing glance over her shoulder as she headed for the bathroom. The sensations felt so new and unfamiliar after so long that she wanted to cherish them rather than reject the notion of being attracted to someone again.
“Shall we try out the restaurant?” Michelle’s voice floated through the bathroom door.
“Sure,” Lana said, swallowing against a mouth suddenly gone dry. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea for her, but with her heart and body waking up again, it was impacting her like a tidal bore, powerful and impossible to resist.
The dining room attached to the motel wasn’t exactly a restaurant, more in line with a café, but they did serve burgers and some chowders. Lana ordered the seafood while Michelle made do with a grilled chicken breast on a Kaiser roll and a Caesar salad instead of the French fries she initially wanted.
“What kind of place has burgers but no fries?” she complained after the waitress had left.
“A place that doesn’t have a deep fryer,” Lana pointed out dryly. “Just a grill.”
“Fine.” Michelle looked around, an expression of dissatisfaction on her face. The walls were a simple wood panel with white accents on the windows and doors, and a few photos on the wall. “This isn’t what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” Lana took a sip of her soda as she regarded the other woman thoughtfully.
“I don’t know. Something more historic, more—well, more Acadian.”
“Hey, the motel’s only been around since 1948, and even the inn isn’t that old,” Lana pointed out. “The Acadians settled in the 1680s and were expelled in 1755. The inn was the boyhood home of Sir Robert Borden, who was prime minister of Canada from 1911 to 1920. The name, Evangeline, has to do with the Longfellow poem, not the war between the English and French.”
Michelle fixed her with a stare. “How do you know that?”
“I just read it,” Lana said, smiling. “There’s a whole history lesson printed beside the breakfast menu.”
Michelle looked even more disgruntled and Lana laughed out loud, surprising herself. How long had it been since she had laughed so easily? Too long, she suspected.
“After dinner, we should check out the site,” Michelle said after their meal arrived.
“I think we should wait until much later in the evening,” Lana said, injecting a note of caution into this madness. “Like midnight or something, when we’re sure no one’s going to be around. Maybe even around one or two. It’s Friday night, date night. We don’t want to come upon some teenagers out parking.”
Michelle stared at her. “That’s good thinking. Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”
“I just don’t want to get caught,” Lana said darkly. “And if we’re going to do this, we should be smart about it.”
“I can’t argue with that.” Michelle suddenly paused, holding up a finger to indicate Lana should stay quiet. Bemused, Lana looked at her and belatedly realized Michelle was eavesdropping on the conversation at the next table between the waitress and two patrons about a break-in of some sort earlier that day.
Michelle turned around in her chair. “Hello there, I’m sorry to interrupt, but did you say the museum was broken into?” She offered up one of her smiles, and of course, all three women immediately became completely cooperative. Lana wondered how Michelle managed it. And how susceptible she was to that oddly provocative Southern charm.
“Not the museum, the Memorial Church,” the waitress said, pinking up at Michelle’s attention. “A few items were taken, some historical stuff, and the door latch was broken. The police think it was kids.”
“It’s always kids, isn’t it?” Michelle said, her drawl deepening.
She turned back to Lana. “They don’t even know the church isn’t where the original one was,” she said in a low, excited voice. “Pierre and Juan must have just taken the items to make it look like a random burglary. And to add to Hector’s collection.”
Lana’s heart sank. “But now the police will be looking out for criminal activity in the area.”
“I doubt they think the site will be hit again.” Michelle brushed off her concern with a casual wave of her hand. “No, we should be able to get in somewhere. Besides, we shouldn’t have to break into anything. What I’m looking for isn’t in a building. It’s outside.”
Michelle grinned. “What could go wrong?”
Chapter Nine
Back in their room, Michelle slipped out of her winter coat, tossing it onto an armchair. The briefcase was sitting on the dresser and she checked it automatically, making sure it was still locked and that no one had disturbed it while they were in the café. Assured the precious contents were safe, she looked back at Lana, who lay on the bed, stretched out as she glanced through the pamphlets she’d retrieved at the counter after paying for their dinner.
“Learning anything?” Michelle asked playfully as she kicked off her boots and crawled onto the bed next to her.
She really was beautiful, she thought wistfully as she looked over at her. Lana was a bit older than most of the women Michelle dated, but her body was still fit, breasts high and firm, waist and hips trim, legs long and shapely, her musculature surprisingly well defined. Clearly, she maintained a regular workout régime. That, or she had some incredible genes.
Desire flared, but Michelle was hesitant. Flirting was one thing, but would Lana really want her after all the revelations and the knowledge that Michelle found truth to be an esoteric concept, one that shou
ld be utilized only as a last resort?
“I’m learning that the British gathered up all the men in the Church of Saint-Charles to tell them all their personal goods were forfeit to the crown and they were being deported,” Lana said as her dark eyes scanned the pages. “I try to imagine what it was like for them to go home and tell their wives that they had to leave behind everything they knew, everything they’d built. Go someplace that, honestly, is as different from Nova Scotia in climate and environment as you can get.”
Trust Lana to zero in on the human aspect of it, Michelle thought fondly. Gingerly, she put her hand on Lana’s stomach, the soft knit of her royal-blue sweater warm from her body, rising and falling with every breath. Lana either didn’t mind the touch or didn’t notice. Michelle hoped it was the former.
“It wasn’t easy for anyone,” Michelle said. “Many died on the ships transporting them to the British colonies, and those that survived had to start all over again in strange surroundings. Maybe it’s not surprising that a lot of them came back as soon as they could.” She began to move her hand in slow circles, caressingly, careful not to be too quick. “And it was all from an inability to commit.”
“Isn’t that simplifying it a bit?” Lana said, tossing the pamphlet onto the nightstand and linking her hands behind her head. If she noticed Michelle’s stealthy caress, she was pretending not to. More importantly, she wasn’t pulling away. Michelle took the opportunity to tug the sweater from where it was tucked into Lana’s jeans, allowing her to slip her hand beneath it and touch Lana’s stomach directly, her skin soft and silky smooth beneath her fingertips.
Easy, Michelle reminded herself. Slow.
“The French wanted the Acadians to fight with them or at least fight against the Mi’kmaq tribes allied with the British, which they didn’t want to do,” she said, forcing herself to continue the conversation even when she really wanted to just jump all over Lana like a lion on a gazelle. “When their part of Acadia became Nova Scotia in 1713, they agreed to live under British rule but refused to sign an oath of allegiance to the British crown. That was a bone of contention for forty years. I guess they thought they could remain in the middle forever, but you know what happens when someone tries to stay neutral between two superpowers.”
“Yeah, eventually, one or the other or both run them over,” Lana said. “They were probably lucky they were just deported. They could have just as easily been exterminated.”
“Which is what happened to a great many Indian tribes in the States.” Michelle pressed closer, and her fingers drifted upward to Lana’s bra with its front clasp. Deftly, she undid it and then paused. “Do you want me to stop?” she asked directly.
“The discussion or what you’re doing?” There was a definite purr in Lana’s tone, her dark eyes sultry. A ripple of longing spiked from the juncture of Michelle’s legs all the way up to her throat.
“Either,” Michelle said huskily. “Both. Neither.” She ran her fingertip over Lana’s freed breast, rubbing across the soft nipple that stiffened immediately. “What was I saying?”
“About the inability to commit to something,” Lana said, and her breath caught, just a little.
Accepting that as a green light, Michelle took the tender protrusion between her forefinger and thumb, rolling it back and forth as she leaned over, capturing Lana’s full lips in a searing kiss.
“Commitment can be hard,” Michelle breathed, when they finally parted. “Uh, so it’ll be a few hours before we can check out the site. I have an idea or two about how we can pass the time.”
Lana unlinked her hands and reached up, slipping her arms around Michelle’s neck and pulling her down for another kiss, her tongue dancing over Michele’s lips. “I think I really like your ideas,” she said throatily.
Michelle smiled and left the soft swell of Lana’s breast, slipping down over her stomach to the waist of her jeans. Unfastening them took only a second, and with determination, she slid beneath the silk of Lana’s panties, through the wiry tangle to the warm folds, moist and waiting, her forefinger rubbing over the ribbon of sensation with lavish intent.
Lana made a soft sound of pleasure, a sort of pleased murmur, which made Michelle smile again. Suddenly, the need was unbearable and she sat up, using both hands to tug at Lana’s jeans, pulling them down her legs.
Lana took the opportunity to divest herself of her sweater and bra, then reached out for Michelle, helping her out of her long-sleeved shirt and jeans. Then the full luscious length of Lana was on top of Michelle, pressing her down onto the mattress as she kissed Michelle with unrestrained passion. Michelle pulled her closer, her hands roaming over Lana’s warm back, down to the full swells of her buttocks, squeezing them with a sort of delirious joy.
She’s just so wonderful, Michelle thought dazedly. So compassionate and generous without seeming to expect anything in return, unlike practically everyone else she knew. For a brief second, she tasted real regret and grief at the thought that Lana could never really be hers, could never really be part of her life in any way. But she could be hers for right now, and that was enough.
Lana rose a little, enough that she could touch Michelle, fondling her with firm precision. As she looked down at her, she smiled, her teeth a bright white that contrasted with the rich wine of her full lips. Her expression was almost haughty, possessive, and it made Michelle quiver from her toes to the top of her head. Maneuvering without words, Michelle urged Lana’s thighs apart so she could reciprocate, and for a few moments, it was sheer heaven, Lana incredibly wet against her fingers as she fondled the warm, willing folds, sliding in and out firmly before concentrating her caress on the sensitive center.
Meanwhile, Lana plied her with lavish attention, her fingers so skilled and dedicated as they drew out the most exquisite sensation. She kept kissing her as well, wonderful, shattering kisses, left off only when they both needed to breathe, a requirement that became progressively urgent as their desire grew ever more intense.
“Oh, I’m almost there,” Lana whispered, her breath hot in Michelle’s ear.
Michelle wanted to indicate some kind of agreement, but the most she could manage was a helpless whimper, the sensation building in powerful waves. It was increasingly difficult to separate her pleasure from Lana’s, wanting them to reach the peak together, but Lana was too quick, shuddering above her as her touch grew erratic, briefly interrupted as she groaned in release. Michelle waited, hovering on the precipice, aching and open, jerking involuntarily as Lana resumed her caresses with renewed concentration. Michelle lightened her touch, easing Lana down from her peak as she surrendered to her own, focusing all her attention now on Lana’s touch, the heady taste of her mouth covering hers, the perfect union of lips and tongue and fingertips granting her benediction both spiritual and physical.
For long moments afterward, she basked in the sensation of Lana’s body on hers, tremors still rippling through her as both of them relaxed into the golden warmth of afterglow.
“Wow,” Lana muttered finally, her dark hair draped across Michelle’s face. Michelle blew several strands away so she could breathe.
“Very nice,” Michelle agreed, feeling the sweat dry on her skin, cooling her to the point of being uncomfortable, even with Lana’s warmth on top of her. Shifting with unspoken accord, they managed to pull the comforter over them and settle against the stiff linens of the motel mattress.
Lana nestled her head on Michelle’s shoulder, right arm and leg draped companionably across her chest and pelvis. Michelle thought Lana’s presence should feel confining, but it didn’t. She just felt nice and somehow safe, protected in the security of Lana’s embrace.
“You know, I’m really sort of glad you came into my life,” Lana said quietly.
“You mean despite the circumstances?” Michelle exhaled slowly. “And that I lied to you?”
“Well, it would have been nice if you’d told me everything from the beginning, but maybe I wasn’t in a place to listen before we—w
ell, you know.” Lana spread her fingers over the upper part of Michelle’s chest, brushing over the freckles there. “I might not be here, now.”
“You’re okay with being here?”
Lana laughed, low and dirty. “Oh, yes. This part is fantastic. It’s making me feel alive again. As for the rest, well, maybe I can’t deny that’s part of the appeal, too.”
“So you like bad girls,” Michelle murmured with a smile.
“I am a bad girl,” Lana admitted, surprising Michelle. “Or at least I was before Sarah. She was so steady and calm and infinitely patient with all my stupidity.” Lana sobered. “Then she got sick, and I had to take care of her. I couldn’t be the wild artist anymore. I had to be the responsible one. The grown-up.”
“Define ‘wild,’” Michelle demanded, curious.
“Well, in college, I liked to drink quite a bit and partied like there was no tomorrow,” Lana admitted. “Out all hours, cutting class, working my way through all the lesbians and any straight chick willing to give it a go, just generally having more fun than was good for me. Honestly, if I hadn’t met Sarah, I probably wouldn’t have graduated Dal.”
“Dal?”
“Dalhousie University,” Lana explained. “I was an English major, of course, and she was getting her RN.”
“Sarah was a nurse?”
“Yes,” Lana said. She paused and swallowed hard. “She was the most caring and compassionate person I’d ever met.”
“She sounds wonderful,” Michelle said honestly. “I’m really sorry you lost her, Lana.”
Lana made a pained sound, not necessarily one of negation, but an indication she was ready to change the subject, possibly because it was becoming too prickly. “It was a good life while we had it,” she said, her voice a bit thick. “Her parents left her the land and that’s why we built the cabin there, even though it wasn’t a great commute to Truro where she worked at the hospital. The place might not look like much this time of year, but in the summer, it’s wonderful. We’d go hiking and mountain-biking in the woods behind our house, and we have friends down the road who own horses. We rode a lot, and went canoeing and fishing in the river.”
Cross Purposes Page 6