Crossroads

Chapter Eighteen

Honor woke when Quinn sat up in bed. Blinking in the gray half-light, she rolled onto her side and traced the muscles in Quinn’s back with her fingertips. “It’s still dark out.”

Quinn swung around on the edge of the bed, leaned down, and kissed her. “It won’t be in fifteen minutes.”

“Mmm.” Honor curled around Quinn and laced her arms around Quinn’s waist, running her palms over Quinn’s abdomen. Quinn sucked in a breath and Honor smiled. She stroked the length of Quinn’s thigh, her body stirring as muscles tensed under her hand. “You could have told her you’d ride after work tonight, you know.”

“Too uncertain.” Quinn swung her legs back onto the bed, settled against the headboard, and drew Honor into her arms. “I’m on backup call, and you know what summers are like.”

“Triple the trauma admissions. Believe me, I know.” Honor sighed and rested her cheek on Quinn’s chest, basking in the soft, steady sound of her breathing and the unwavering beat of her heart. This was home—the heart of her existence. “You’re awfully good to do this with her.”

“Self-preservation.” Quinn stroked Honor’s back, lightly drawing strands of hair through her fingers. “She wants to ride in the breast cancer Ride for Life at the end of the summer, and there’s no way she’s going alone. It’s ninety miles, and I’ll have to work my ass off to get into shape.”

Honor chuckled and pressed her lips to Quinn’s chest. Strong muscles, soft skin. Miraculous. “I’d volunteer to go with you, but honestly, the idea of riding that far makes me want to run screaming in the other direction.”

“You can cheer us on.”

Honor laughed softly. “Always wanted to be a cheerleader.”

“Those short little skirts are really hot.” Quinn tugged Honor on top of her, entwining their legs.

“Forget it.”

Quinn cradled her ass, guiding her over the familiar rise of her thigh. “Too late. The image is already in my mind. Do they still make pom-po—”

Honor bit Quinn’s lower lip.

“Okay.” Quinn arched beneath her, groaning softly. “No pom-poms.”

Honor’s head pounded with the pressure against her clitoris. Bracing her hands on either side of the pillow, she held herself just above Quinn’s body, her breasts gently brushing Quinn’s. Hot skin stroked her swelling clit. “This is not going to get you out onto a bicycle. And if you keep it up, I guarantee you’re going to be uncomfortable while you’re riding.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll chance it.” Quinn kissed her again, a slow, deep, familiar glide of tongues, a teasing brush of lips.

Honor’s mind went blank and her blood raced. She fisted her hands in Quinn’s hair and pressed into Quinn, riding Quinn’s hard muscles, propelling herself higher, striving for the crest. So soon, so good. “Oh my God.”

“That’s right, baby,” Quinn whispered, one arm holding Honor tightly to her, the other guiding her hips. “I love when you do this.”

Honor buried her face in Quinn’s neck, muffling her cry as pleasure broke over her like sunshine bursting from behind clouds. She trembled and let herself fall into the firm certainty of Quinn’s embrace.

“Oh yeah.” Quinn rolled her over and rose above her, kissing her closed eyelids, her mouth, her neck. Her body was hot and slick and hard. “I love you.”

Honor scored her nails lightly down Quinn’s back and massaged the tense muscles in her ass. “I love you. Beyond everything. I wasn’t even thinking of sex five minutes ago.”

Quinn nuzzled her neck. “I was.”

“I think that’s the first thing you think of when you open your eyes.”

Quinn laughed, kissed Honor lightly, and rolled off. She tangled her fingers with Honor’s, her strong surgeon’s hands gentle and sure. “Second thing. First thing is how right it is to have you beside me and the kids asleep in the other rooms. Then all I can think of is wanting you.”

“Get out of this bed if you plan to go, otherwise you’re going to have to think up—”

A door slammed down the hall and footsteps raced toward their room. A knock came on their door.

“Quinn? You up?”

Quinn pulled the sheet over Honor’s nude body and grabbed the T-shirt from the chair beside the bed. She yanked it on over her head. “Yup. Just getting dressed.”

“Five minutes,” Arly said in a voice that sounded so much like Honor, Quinn could only laugh.

“I hear you,” Quinn called.

“Meet you downstairs.”

Quinn looked over her shoulder at Honor. “Too late. Hold that thought?”

“Darling,” Honor said, “at the first opportunity. It’s the first thing I think of in the morning too.” She patted Quinn’s ass when she stood up. “Have fun. Be careful.”

“Always.” Quinn stepped into sweats. “You want me to take Jack to daycare?”

“No. I’ll drop him off on my way to Linda’s.”

“Okay. Let me know how she is. Love you.”

“I love you.” Honor rolled over and closed her eyes, the taste of Quinn in her mouth and her scent surrounding her.

*

Hollis hit East River Drive on her bicycle just as the sun came up, pedaling in a fast, even rhythm alongside the few cars leading the rush-hour charge toward the city. On the river, sculls knifed through the dark water, the college crewers flexing and pulling as one as their coxswains called out the cadence. Ducks waddled on the green expanse between the twisting two-lane road and the river’s edge. Runners strode along the paths paralleling the shoreline.

Ordinarily, this was her favorite time of day—when the air was fresh and the sky clear and the day stretched out before her filled with possibility. This morning, the clarion beauty of the early summer morning only served to darken her mood. She couldn’t shake the disappointment of Annie’s rebuff, and she couldn’t sort out why she was so bothered. It wasn’t as if Annie had cut her off—she’d just said she wanted to be friends. Fair enough. That should have been the end of the matter, but she couldn’t let it go.

The first thing she did when she opened her eyes was replay the entire previous evening. What she’d said, or should have said, or more importantly, shouldn’t have said. Hell, what had she been thinking? Annie wasn’t like other women, and that was a big part of what fascinated her. Annie was self-sufficient, self-contained, and bent on self-protection—she had more walls than Hollis. Everything she said and did reinforced the no-touch zone that circled her like an impenetrable shell. She didn’t want Hollis inside, and that was the only place Hollis wanted to be. She wanted to be the one Annie let in, even though that wasn’t like her at all. Usually she wanted more distance, not less. She respected boundaries, she had a lot of her own. But when she was with Annie, she forgot about rules and boundaries and smart decisions. The world sparkled again, the air smelled fresher, the sky was bluer. Everything hummed with life in ways she’d forgotten.

Well, the world wasn’t shining now. She shook her head, berating herself for her clumsy, premature moves the night before. The signs had been clear enough—go slow, use caution, take time to build trust. She hadn’t done any of those things. A couple of shared meals, a few conversations. That wasn’t enough to draw Annie out of her comfort zone. She’d let her wants cloud her judgment.

When was last time she’d done that? When was the last time she’d cared enough to even try? Well, she’d blown it.

A shaft of sunlight bounced off the water and the air ahead of her shimmered with tiny flecks of gold. Maybe not permanently, though. Maybe if she backed off and heeded the caution signs, she could work her way around to the right time to ask again.

Maybe. And maybe she ought to think twice about what she was doing. She sighed and rounded the circle in front of the Art Museum, halfway done with her morning ride. Maybe she’d be smarter to listen to Annie’s message—she’d been doing just fine with the casual relationships she had. Annie wasn’t the kind of woman she could treat casually. And really, anything else was just asking for trouble. She came around the parkway toward West River Drive and the return loop, her mind clearing. Maybe she should be grateful Annie had shut her down. Maybe she’d dodged a bullet. Maybe what she needed was a date with no strings, a pleasant night out to remind her of the priorities in her life. And what she wanted to avoid.

*

Annie parked in front of Hollis’s house at seven thirty, a good fifteen minutes early. She knew she’d be early, but she’d been too restless to sit in the park after she’d dropped Callie off at Suzanne’s and too distracted to make casual conversation with Suz until Suz took the kids to school. She’d just wait out front and review her case notes.

When she turned off the engine, the sound of hammering drew her attention from the notes she knew by heart, and she shoved them back into her bag. She got out of the car, locked up, and followed the rhythmic pounding along the stone walkway circling Hollis’s house to the back porch. Hollis stood on a wooden stepladder, nailing new trim around the porch windows. Her back was to Annie as she plucked nails from a leather equipment belt strapped low on her hips and quickly, efficiently drove in the nails. A navy blue tank top stretched across her sharply cut shoulders, and Annie followed the tapering lines of Hollis’s back down to her waist where the tank disappeared beneath the waistband of her khaki work shorts. The backs of her legs were corded with muscle. Her dark hair lay in delicate curls at the nape of her neck, as if they’d recently been stroked into place by teasing fingers.

Annie stood at the bottom of the wide dark green porch stairs, giving herself a moment before she announced her presence. She’d spent a good part of the previous evening and most of the early morning trying not to think about the almost-kiss in the car. She still wasn’t sure why the idea of Hollis kissing her alternately terrified and thrilled her, but anything that threw her off balance so badly came with a big warning sign. Still, she couldn’t forget the pull of Hollis’s piercing gaze or the way Hollis’s fingers had gripped her neck, gentle and possessive. She’d ached in a way that was more sweetly painful than anything she’d ever known. Annie swallowed, her throat dry. Her heart thudded with nearly the same intensity as Hollis’s rhythmic hammer blows. Just looking at Hollis brought the ache back, and she wasn’t sure she wanted that to stop.

Suddenly Hollis looked over her shoulder. She paused, motionless, the hammer gripped loosely in her left hand and her gaze moving slowly over Annie’s body. Finally, after what felt like an eternity while Annie stood as helpless as a forest creature under the eyes of a predator, Hollis said, “Hi. I’m sorry, I guess I lost track of time.”

“I’m early,” Annie said.

Hollis climbed down and slid her hammer into the loop on the side of her belt. The hammer swung against her thigh, reminding Annie of the gunslingers she had secretly admired in old movies as a child, only then she had imagined the rebels as wild, free women. The tank top clung damply to Hollis’s chest, highlighting the curve of her breasts and her muscular abdomen. Annie pulled her gaze upward to Hollis’s face.

“I’m early.” Now she was repeating herself. Wonderful.

“I just need five minutes to shower,” Hollis said. “There’s coffee in the kitchen. Go on in and help yourself.”

“All right, thanks.”

Hollis turned, unslung her equipment belt, and placed it on a low plank bench under the kitchen windows. She disappeared through the screen door and Annie slowly followed. Keeping a professional distance was going to be harder than she’d expected, and something she had no practice at doing. She’d never let anyone get close enough that she’d needed to draw lines. She took a mug from a hook hanging underneath the glass-fronted wooden cabinet and poured herself a cup of coffee. Upstairs, water ran, and she pictured Hollis stripping and stepping into the shower. An image of her own soap-covered hands gliding over toned muscles and tanned skin leapt fully formed into her mind. She saw herself cupping firm breasts and sliding her thumbs over hard, heat-flushed nipples. She tasted the sweetness of Hollis’s breath and quickened under the press of Hollis’s mouth to hers. Hands trembling, she carefully set the coffee cup down.

Never once had she fantasized about sex with Jeff. She’d thought at the time what they’d shared was all that it should be. Later she’d come to appreciate other women and experienced physical stirrings that were wholly different and far sweeter than what she’d known. But this. This she had not imagined. This was far from anything she understood.

“Have you eaten?”

Hollis spoke from behind her and Annie swung around, startled. She didn’t lose track of time, but today she had—fantasizing about a woman she hadn’t even kissed. The woman she’d said no to, for good reasons she couldn’t remember right now.

Hollis looked as good in dark pants and a light lavender shirt, set off by a narrow black belt and black loafers, as she had in a tank top and shorts. Her hair was damp from the shower and looked as if she’d just toweled it dry and carelessly run her hands through it. She probably had. She didn’t need to do anything else. The wild look suited her, just as the holster had. No doubt she wielded her surgical instruments with the same confident nonchalance. She stood in the doorway rolling up her cuffs, watching Annie, her eyes shadowed, guarded.

“I had Cheerios with Callie about an hour ago,” Annie said.

Hollis smiled. “Then you’ve got to be hungry. How do you feel about eating bagels in the car?”

“Our first stop is only a few blocks from here. We’ve got time to actually eat like civilized human beings.” Annie laughed. “Well, like medical people anyhow. Ten minutes should be plenty of time.”

“Good. Cream cheese?”

“Sure.”

Hollis brushed by her, opened the refrigerator, and passed Annie a container of cream cheese. “Knives are in the drawer by the sink.”

“I remember,” Annie said, opening the utility drawer.

Hollis took a bag of bagels from the counter, opened it, and asked, “Cinnamon raisin, oat bran, pumpernickel, or everything?”

“Cinnamon raisin,” Annie said.

“Coming up.”

A minute later Annie followed Hollis out onto the porch and leaned against the railing. The bagel was fresh, the day was bright and beautiful, and Hollis was the most stunning woman she’d ever seen. She concentrated on her bagel. “You’re up early working on the porch.”

“I got up to ride, and when I got home…” Hollis shrugged, looking out over the yard. “Restless.”

“You’re a serious cyclist.”

“It usually relaxes me.” Hollis set her coffee cup down and brushed crumbs from her hands. “Do you ride much?”

“I did, when I was younger. I didn’t have a car and it was a lot faster than walking. I never really rode for pleasure, though.” Annie put her cup beside Hollis’s on the railing. “Callie wants a bike. Any recommendations?”

“There’s a good local bike shop on Germantown Avenue—I could take you over…” Hollis’s jaw tightened. “Well. I can tell you where it is.”

Annie knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help herself. She lightly gripped Hollis’s forearm. “I’d love it if you could consult. I want to make sure she gets the right thing, and honestly, I have no idea what kids’ bikes are like these days.”

Hollis stared at Annie’s hand on her arm. A touch didn’t necessarily mean anything, but tell that to her body. She’d been revved since she’d turned around and seen Annie watching her, and the look in Annie’s eyes hadn’t been saying stay away. Her skin was about to blister from the heat of Annie’s fingers. “I’d like that.”

“Hollis, I’m sorry if—”

“No. We’re good.” She hated knowing she’d made Annie uncomfortable. She cupped Annie’s jaw and traced her thumb over her cheek. “It’s okay. I got a little ahead of things last night. My fault.”

“No fault,” Annie whispered. “I’m just not—”

“No more apologies. It’s all right.” Hollis picked up both cups. “I’ll take these inside. We should probably go.”

“Yes, we should,” Annie said, knowing it wasn’t all right at all.