“That’s easily fixed.”
Here it was, the offer she’d been waiting for; and here she was, stranded at the same impasse that made her turn back every time. Rhianna drained her wine and reached for the tumbler standing to one side. She gulped down some water and let an ice cube slide into her mouth to soothe the rough tension clamping her throat. No matter how hard she tried to move forward, sex stopped her in her tracks. That’s why she was sitting here in this bar, feeling self-conscious in a dress any porn star would be proud of, with her flaxen hair cut short, dyed Titian red, and thinned so the ends were wispy.
She had come to Palm Springs with this exact scenario in mind, a hookup with a desirable stranger she would never have to see again. No-strings sex with someone who knew zero about her other than a few details exchanged online. The plan had seemed brilliant when she first hatched it, the perfect solution to her problem. It was time to reclaim her body and rid herself of the sense memories that haunted her. She would maintain complete control, dictating all the terms for the encounter so she would be touched only as she wanted to be touched. Now, thanks to good luck rather than good management, the perfect opportunity was sitting across the table from her. All she had to do was say yes, but paralysis had set in.
All of a sudden, her expectations seemed completely unrealistic. Only the most robotic person would patiently await a partner’s cues and commands and behave like a toy. The woman hitting on her didn’t seem the passive, obedient type. How was this ever going to work? Rhianna had thought it would be easier to sleep with a stranger than someone she knew. But without trust, how could there be physical intimacy? How could she explain what she needed?
Masking her unease with what she hoped was a playful, sexy look, she said, “You don’t waste any time. What happened to verbal foreplay?”
“I can go there,” Jules drawled, “if it’s a prerequisite.”
Rhianna’s stomach hollowed, and her nipples scraped against the thin silk knit of her dress. “Then let’s go there.”
“An invitation to talk dirty…there is a God.”
Pushing her empty wineglass aside, Rhianna said, “It’s time to buy me that drink. Grey Goose, please. Make it a double.”
Normally she didn’t mix spirits and wine, but she thought something stronger would calm her nerves. She felt disoriented. It wasn’t like her to have one-night stands; in fact, this would be her first. But the old rules no longer applied, and the woman she once was no longer existed. All she needed to do was switch off her mind and allow her body to react naturally. It was happening already, unless stress was to blame for her pounding heart and the heat in her cheeks.
She watched Jules saunter to the bar. The walk said it all. She was stunning and she knew it. Her look was plain. White tee, casual black pants, black loafers with the same matte finish as the belt at her waist. Her build was lithe, her movements graceful, her height a little taller than average. She was the only woman Rhianna had ever seen who could wear a ponytail without looking girly. Her hair was dead straight and just long enough to be clubbed back at her nape with a thin satin ribbon. The style flaunted a face that lodged insistently in memory, the lines cleanly sculptured, the nose and jaw strong, the eyes set deep.
She was handsome more than beautiful, Rhianna thought. Nothing was quite perfect. Her mouth was slightly uneven. A small scar bisected her left eyebrow, creating a slight quirk. Her cheekbones weren’t prominent enough for classic beauty, and the planes below seemed muscular, not soft.
When she returned, she placed their drinks on the table and bent so that her mouth drifted by Rhianna’s ear. “Like what you see?”
“Very much.” Rhianna turned her head, but did not allow her lips to graze the cheek so close to her own. She felt Jules shiver.
“But you’re going to make me work for it?”
Rhianna felt something soft on her cheek, and she realized Jules was blowing on it. Warm breath teased a path down her neck, making her body ache. She had not realized how desperately she missed touch. So much had been spoiled for her, so much taken away.
For the past nine months she had lived each day, one at a time, with an overwhelming sense of loss: Her peace of mind. Her job satisfaction. Her sense of herself as a full and functioning person. Her confidence as a woman and a lover. Her hopes and dreams. Everything. Werner Brigham had robbed her of the self she was, leaving a crippled ghost to inhabit her skin.
Physically she had changed too, so much that sometimes she almost failed to recognize herself as she walked by windows and applied lipstick in restroom mirrors. Stress made some people eat; Rhianna had lost her appetite instead. She had dropped over thirty pounds in the past year and every soft line seemed sharp now, her face angular, her jawline emphatic, her eyes bigger because everything else was smaller.
There were days when she wondered if she would ever feel fully alive again, if the woman she had been would ever return, or if this was it and she would have to reinvent herself. Rhianna stole a darting glance toward the exit. She could leave now and forget this whole crazy plan. It had been a big mistake to imagine she could pull this off. She stared down at the liquid swaying back and forth in her glass. A hand firmly closed over her own, arresting its trembling.
“What’s wrong? Is it something I said?” Jules tightened her grip. The hand beneath hers felt small, she thought, and unexpectedly square, suggesting a practical nature.
A pair of bright, expressive eyes lifted to hers. They were not exactly green. Nor were they brown. They were dappled, like sunshine spilling across foliage. A delicate feathering of dark eyelashes screened them just enough to suggest shyness. There was something else in the wide-eyed stare, too. Distress.
Jules glanced around, almost expecting the looming figure of a jealous girlfriend, fists swinging. Before she could be certain of what she’d glimpsed, Kate’s expression changed.
“I’m fine. I was just thinking…To be quite honest, I don’t normally pick up women in bars.”
Cold feet. Jules knew she should have bought that drink sooner. Keeping her tone light and noncommittal, she said, “Feel free to hone your technique on me.”
Everyone had their sorrows and inadequacies, herself included. Jules could sense the woman opposite her retreating by the moment. In fact, she half-expected her to leap up and scuttle away into the shadows. She was as nervous and tightly coiled as a trapped animal, sitting rigidly in her chair as though chained to the table. She was probably planning her escape, rehearsing some lame excuse she would make as soon as she’d finished her vodka. Not exactly the willing sexual accomplice Jules had hoped for.
She stole a glance around the bar and concluded that Kate might be a shaky possibility, but she was the
only
possibility. The place was jammed with retired women out socializing with their friends, bisexuals hitting on each other while hubby looked on, and youngsters who probably lived at home with Mom and Dad. Jules had stopped sleeping with the early twenties when she was in high school.
She returned her attention to Kate and was struck anew by the perfection of her skin. Its tone was even and lightly tanned. The woman was deliciously touchable. Her chest and shoulders glowed like she’d had some sun recently. Her hair was shot with gold, shimmering in fine streaks through the copper. It was layered and chin-length, its slightly ragged cut calling attention to an unusual face, wide at the cheekbones and narrowing to a small chin. She had dimples when she smiled, and it was a great smile. Warm and real.
Jules had already been stopped dead by that smile several times today. The first of these occasions was still fresh in her mind. She’d just parked her car outside the peach walls of Casitas Laquita, and Kate had been standing a few feet away talking to one of the owners. When the women went their separate ways, Kate smiled a farewell that transformed her face so completely, Jules could only stare in astonishment and wonder if she was seeing a movie star trying to keep a low profile.
The slender beauty from earlier in the day, wearing the loose linen shirt and rolled-hem shorts, was nothing like the sophisticate sitting opposite her now. Kate’s clinging halter dress and stilettos were the last thing Jules would have picked out for her. The flesh-and-flash outfit and the woman wearing it had certainly gotten her attention as she walked in the door, no doubt the desired effect.
But Kate didn’t seem comfortable in the kind of trophy-wife clothing Jules was used to seeing at South Beach when she partied with the team from the Miami office. Her body language and micro-expressions were at odds with her seductive appearance, and now that Jules was paying closer attention, she could read between those lines. The only reason a nice girl steps out wearing fuck-me clothes is to prove something. She ran through the obvious possibilities. Recently broken up and trying to get back in the game. Straight and in a lesbian bar on a dare, her friends waiting outside.
Jules sighed. It would be nice, for a change, if she could take something or someone at face value, if she were not trained to read the most subtle cues. Life would be so much simpler.
She watched Kate get serious with her vodka, draining the glass in a series of gulps. Her skin was flushed and her movements were losing their grace.
“Another?” Jules asked.
Kate looked slightly dazed. Her eyes dropped to her empty glass and registered surprise. “Oh, I finished it.”
“You did.” Jules waited for her to decide she’d had enough, but Kate gave a nonchalant shrug.
“Thanks, I will have another.”
Jules was never comfortable sleeping with a woman who’d had too much to drink. But the night was wearing on and she wanted to get out of here, preferably with company. Resigning herself to being the designated driver, she returned to the bar.
Less than five minutes later Kate was downing the next double like it was water.
Jules said, “Whoa. You might want to slow down.”
“I’m not drunk.” Kate giggled. “Okay, maybe a little.”
If she didn’t want to carry this woman out, it was time to leave. “How about this?” Jules suggested. “Let’s go back to Casitas, change into comfortable clothes, and have a nightcap by the pool.”
“Yes, good idea.” Kate fiddled awkwardly with her handbag. It fell on the floor, spilling half its contents beneath the table. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” Jules shoveled everything back into the purse and returned it. Any minute the multiple vodkas would kick in and Kate would be non compos mentis. Jules wrote her room number on a cocktail napkin and slid it across the table. “This is where you can find me. See how you feel when we get back. If you want to call it a night, fine. If you don’t, just dial the room. And the other thing…”
“Yes?”
“I’m not expecting anything. Do you understand?”
A wobbly smile. “Yes.”
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Jules helped her up and escorted her toward the door, a guiding hand at the base of her spine. “I’ll drive you. No argument.”
Kate acquiesced without a word, and Jules let her hand drift slightly lower. The arch of her back was so very tempting, she had to exercise self-control not to caress it, not to slide her hand down to cup the rounded perfection of her butt. However, this was not the time to unsettle her quarry with a hasty move. Jules hadn’t abandoned her plan to spend the night with this woman, but she detected an ambivalence in her that rang alarm bells. Even if Kate wanted to give the impression that she knew the score, Jules had a feeling she was out of her depth.
Women had all kinds of reasons for hooking up with strangers, and Kate’s were none of Jules’s business. But if they slept together, the experience needed to be good for both of them; otherwise, what was the point? She opened the passenger door and waited for Kate to get settled. The dress was hitched up over one tempting thigh and as Kate fumbled with the seat belt, Jules got an eyeful of breasts so beautiful she almost whined.
Whatever this winsome babe’s reservations were, Jules hoped she would get over them and decide to call her. As they drove back to the inn, she had her doubts. Kate was obviously a nice woman.
Probably too nice.