The few people closest to her knew, and if anyone else had ever asked she would not have lied. But no one had. Rhianna knew she was guilty of deceit by omission, and she knew that allowing people to make assumptions was taking the easy way out. But so what? Everyone had things about themselves that they didn’t discuss, and she was not one of those exhibitionists who thought the whole world needed to know what color panties she wore. There would be no MySpace if everyone was like her.
That was one of the reasons the thought of this trial made her feel ill. Bad enough that she would have to see that loathsome man sitting in the courtroom next to his lawyers, acting like he was innocent. But the idea of having to take the stand and explain what had happened, to answer disgusting intrusive questions, to hear it implied that she had somehow invited her attack—Rhianna had no idea how she was going to cope.
For the next two days she was supposed to be spending time with Norman Clay, the prosecuting attorney, reviewing her testimony again. She’d already been back and forth from Denver several times since she’d moved to Oatman. Thanks to the preparation she’d received, she knew what to expect when she took the stand. Mr. Clay had warned her that a big-city trial attorney would be coming in to represent Brigham. The last time they’d spoken, he still didn’t know who that would be, but Rhianna imagined a slick, handsome lawyer with a ski tan and a perfect smile.
The defense would try to make it look like she was to blame for what had happened, but Norman Clay said that strategy would be an uphill struggle because she was a credible plaintiff. All she had to do was be herself and tell the truth. He had made one request, that she get her hair color changed back to blond by the time she appeared in court. He thought her new look was too sophisticated.
Rhianna had made an appointment with a hairdresser for Friday afternoon and was even getting extensions so she would appear in court with the blond ponytail she used to have. She supposed it was a good idea. At least Brigham would not get to see how much she had changed her appearance. The less he knew about her, the better.
She checked her wristwatch. It was almost 7:00 p.m. Idly she wondered what Jules was doing and whether she was home. Her stomach fluttered. She still couldn’t believe she had actually had phone sex, something she’d snickered over in the past when one of her friends had bragged about doing it. She would never have imagined the experience could be so erotic. Even now, just thinking about it made her wet, yet she was mystified by the appeal. How could she get so aroused just talking on the phone? Was it healthy?
She pictured Jules at work, impeccably dressed, about to go to a meeting but getting all flustered and wanting to have sex instead. The thought made her blood run lusciously hot, flooding every sensitive spot. Her clit tingled. Her nipples perked. She felt gloriously female, powerful and desirable. This was how sexy women felt, she thought. They knew they could make someone want them. Rhianna had never experienced that heady self-awareness until now. Until Jules.
Impulsively she took her new cell phone from her purse, along with the card Jules had sent with the flowers. She dialed the number and held her breath.
“Jules Valiant.” Her voice seemed flat and distracted.
Rhianna almost hung up, sensing she had probably called at a bad time. But she wanted at least to say hello and confirm their date for Saturday night. Nervously, she said, “Jules, it’s me…Kate. I’m at the airport.”
In a heartbeat the tone changed. “It’s so good to hear your voice. Don’t move. Don’t get a taxi. Don’t even think about going to your parents’ place. I’m coming to get you.”
Rhianna laughed. “You can’t do that. Our date’s not till Saturday.”
“Are you seriously going to pretend you called me just to say hello?”
The smoky drawl somehow insinuated its way from Rhianna’s ear to her throat, stifling the breath she needed to draw. “No,” she admitted, taking in a sharp gulp of air.
“Good. Because I’ve finally finished work and I can’t think of anything I’d like more than to see you.”
“I’d like that, too.” Why pretend otherwise? Rhianna smiled helplessly. With all the shit that had happened to her over the past eighteen months, she was owed one good thing, and Jules was certainly that.
“Are you at the baggage claim?”
“Yes.” Rhianna wished she’d worn something more interesting than jeans and a simple sweater. Maybe she would go change in the ladies’ restroom.
“Take the elevator down to level four,” Jules instructed. “I’ll be at the curbside pickup in twenty minutes. Dark gray Mercedes CLS550.”
“I was planning to see a friend later,” Rhianna said feebly. Fortunately she hadn’t told Mimi for certain which day she would arrive. She had a house key and a standing invitation to show up whenever she was in town.
“She’ll understand,” Jules said. “I’m on my way to the parking garage at work.”
“Okay. Good. I mean…fantastic.” Rhianna hesitated, then spilled exactly what she was thinking. “Jules…I can’t wait to see you.”
“Don’t sound so amazed. My ego can’t handle it.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to make it up to you,” Rhianna teased recklessly.
“You know I’m going to hold you to that, don’t you?”
Rhianna knew there was a hot, dark gleam in Jules’s eyes. “I was hoping you might.”
Chapter Eight
Jules shoved Kate’s luggage into the designer apartment used by Sagelblum trial attorneys when they were in town. The ride from the airport had been exquisitely tense, the conversation, erratic. She felt knotted inside, not quite able to believe her own turbulent emotions. She couldn’t think. She was awash with craving, a prisoner of Kate’s every unconscious movement: The quivering copper of her hair as the Denver breeze plucked at it on the way to the car. The curve of her neck as she lowered her head to get in the passenger seat. The slope of a wrist, the hitch of a shoulder, the way one of her knees angled in against the other as she sat.
When they spoke, Jules was lost. Her blood stirred at the shape of Kate’s mouth. She wanted to stroke a finger around it and tease the shadow beneath her lower lip. Kiss her. Fuck her. Not let her sleep. The force of these desires troubled her. She supposed she was used to calling the shots with women. Kate’s ambivalence about their budding liaison had made her uneasy. Perhaps that could explain her intense desire. Was she desperate to somehow stake a claim? How juvenile.
Normally, she didn’t get possessive, even in the few relationships that lasted longer than a month. Neither did she harbor strange anxieties or agonize about the future. Self-torment was not her style. And she never chased women; it was the other way around. What had gone wrong this time?
The moment she saw Kate standing at the baggage claim, it crossed her mind to wonder if she’d finally stumbled on The One. The thought shook her. Worse still, it stayed with her, lurking in the back of her mind as a tempting explanation for all that was strange about their fling so far.
Jules was not prey to flights of fancy or delusions of presentiment, but she could not escape the sense that Kate was significant. At the same time she felt that at any moment she could vanish, and that she’d only allowed Jules into her life because of some mysterious agenda. Jules feared she would still be groping in the dark, trying to fathom the role she’d been assigned, when she was discarded. This possibility had both decimated her peace of mind and heightened her anticipation during the twenty-minute drive to downtown Denver.
Hoping Kate hadn’t noticed her distraction level, she nudged the apartment door closed with a knee and wheeled the luggage out of the way. Kate removed her coat and hung it on the decorative stand just inside the entrance; then she strolled lightly into the living area, her head tilted back so she could take in the full splendor of the room’s central feature. A vast modern chandelier fell from the thirty-foot atrium-style ceiling like a flock of torn crystal ticket stubs, each swaying and pivoting in the faint rush of the air-conditioning.
She executed a slow twirl, her smile radiant. “This is amazing.”
“Yes.” Jules plucked a smile from the chaos of her responses. “I never get used to it.”
All at once, she was frantic with the urge to throw Kate down on the floor, or across a table, or over the back of furniture. The only other time she’d felt like this was back in the days when she snorted coke at parties, before she stamped out every habit that could undermine her career. What was her excuse tonight? She supposed lust could undo common sense, self-control, even self-respect. She had already been keyed up, expecting to see Kate on Saturday. Having her arrive early had somehow unglued her. She felt thrilled but awkward, self-conscious at the thought of their phone call, even worried about their next lovemaking. What would Kate expect of her? Jules didn’t want to disappoint.
She tried to get a read on the woman exploring the room. Would they have to go through the motions of dinner and conversation? No doubt Kate would need to freshen up after her flight. Jules ran through the possibilities. While Kate was showering, she could make a light meal. They could listen to seductive music as they dined, then sit a few feet apart on the sofa occupying that weird fugue state people slid into when it was unseemly just to grab each other.
Did Kate even want to grab her? Jules followed her progress as she moved through the room, brushing her fingers over furnishings and surfaces until she came to the windows. There she paused, seemingly entranced by the city nightscape. Surely, if she felt the same aching need Jules did, she would not be ten feet away, distracting herself by twinkling lights. She would not be fondling inanimate objects when her hands could be occupied with a warm body.
For a few excruciating seconds, Jules was filled with resentment. How could a stranger evoke such messy and inexplicable emotions in her? She felt vulnerable and desperate. Kate’s remoteness was maddening. This whole scenario seemed mirage-like. She was daunted by the sense that she could plunge in with wild abandon, only to find everything evaporating.
Determined to seize control, of at least the situation if not herself, she said, “I’ll show you where things are.”
Kate turned toward her. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Did you specify the flowers for that bouquet or did the florist just put something together?”
“I chose them myself.” Jules wondered if this was a test.
“I thought so.”
Kate left the window and dawdled toward her, stopping within arm’s reach. Her eyes were bright and more green than brown. A tiny melting smile found its way to her mouth, making it so kissable Jules had to choke back a small animal sound of longing. Heat flooded her face. She could not believe she was giving herself away like this. Where was her sophistication?
“Mostly, I don’t like getting flowers,” Kate said. “But I make exceptions for peonies and irises.” Her smile broadened. “I wonder how you knew that.”
The words were so softly spoken, Jules had to move closer. She could smell mint on Kate’s breath. Scent invaded the air, emanating from both of them. Commercial perfume masked the rougher notes of perspiration, body, and clothing. Jules recognized the salty traces of her own wet arousal in the mix. Her hands trembled and she slid them into her pockets.
She regarded Kate cautiously, seeking some idea of where they stood with each other. None of the usual cues were apparent. Kate offered no long, hot looks. No coy smiles. No “accidental” touch. Where was the woman who had seduced her over the phone just two days ago? Jules wanted her here, now, in the flesh. Was physical proximity a problem? Would Kate only articulate her desires with a thousand miles of desert and mountain between them?
Jules followed her instincts. “I’ve been thinking…”
“Yes?” Kate’s expression was politely attentive, like she was about to hear the recipe for a meal she would never cook.
“I have some urgent work to do. How about if I get that out of the way while you shower and make yourself comfortable?” She indicated the curved stairwell. “My bedroom and office are on the top level along from the balcony. Just come on up when you’re ready.”
No pressure. No demands. Jules intercepted a glimmer of relief in Kate’s eyes and realized she had hit upon the right move at the right time. Although Kate hid her emotions well, she was probably nervous and needed a chance to relax. Jules already knew from Palm Springs and their phone sex that Kate liked to dictate the nature of her encounters. If that’s what it took, Jules could be accommodating.