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Breathless:

tales of celeBration

edited by

RADCLY f FE and

STACIA SEAMAN

2010

breathless: tales of celebration

© 2010 By Bold StrokeS BookS. All rightS reServed.

iSBN 13: 978-1-60282-495-9

This ElEcTronic Book is PuBlishEd By

Bold sTrokEs Books, inc.

P.o. Box 249

VallEy Falls, ny 12185

FirsT EdiTion: dEcEmBEr 2010

This is a Work oF FicTion. namEs, characTErs, PlacEs, and

incidEnTs arE ThE ProducT oF ThE auThor’s imaGinaTion or

arE usEd FicTiTiously. any rEsEmBlancE To acTual PErsons,

liVinG or dEad, BusinEss EsTaBlishmEnTs, EVEnTs, or localEs

is EnTirEly coincidEnTal.

This Book, or ParTs ThErEoF, may noT BE rEProducEd in any

Form WiThouT PErmission.

CreditS

EdiTors: radclyFFE and sTacia sEaman

ProducTion dEsiGn: sTacia sEaman

coVEr dEsiGn By Bold sTrokEs GraPhics

contents

inTrOducTiOn

1

harVesT sins

Winter Pennington

3

The TOP

Lee Lynch

25

The TWelVe days OF cOurTshiP

Nell Stark and Trinity Tam

39

miss december

Rebecca S. Buck

55

hOmemade

Erin Dutton

67

luminaria lighT

Cate Culpepper

77

reindeer rOunduP

D. Jackson Leigh

91

dreams: a PrOmise kePT

C.J. Harte

101

ThrOugh The eyes OF a child

Gun Brooke

111

a chrisTmas Wish

PJ Trebelhorn

123

chrisTmas in chasTilian

Lesley Davis

133

hOliday gnOmOsexuals

Clifford Henderson

143

making neW memOries

MJ Williamz

153

a ghOsT OF chrisTmas PasT

Ali Vali

159

beauTiFul burden

Lisa Girolami

175

lOVe is The key

Carsen Taite

187

merry chrisTmas FrOm dOWn under

Bobbi Marolt

201

The aFTerParTy

Meghan O’Brien

205

ice casTles

Radclyffe

219

cOme back TO me

Julie Cannon

227

introduction

When we close the book on happily ever after, we do so with a feeling

of satisfaction. The lovers have met challenges, overcome obstacles,

and ultimately have found their way to a future together. And yet, we

wonder: What does the future hold for these characters? Once the

dizzying rush of new love fades, what takes its place? After a lifetime

together, will their bond remain strong?

In Breathless: Tales of Celebration, twenty-one authors revisit some

of their favorite characters to show us the entire spectrum of love:

from giddy infatuation to lifetime commitment, from buying a home to

starting a family, from asking “Do I?” to saying, “I do.”

Radcly f fe and Stacia Seaman 2010

• 1 •

WinTer PenningTOn is the author of Witch Wolf and Raven Mask, the

Kassandra Lyall Preternatural Investigator series. She is currently

working on Darkness Embraced: A Rosso Lussuria Vampire Novel,

which will be published in 2011. She is an avid practitioner of

nature-based spirituality and enjoys spending her spare time studying

mythology from around the world. The Celtic path is very close to

her heart. She has an uncanny fascination with swords and daggers,

and a fondness for feeding loud and obnoxious corvids. She can be

contacted at Winterpennington@gmail.com, or visit her blog at

www.winterpennington.blogspot.com.

“Harvest Sins” takes place in the time between Raven Mask and

Bloody Claws, the planned third book in the Kassandral Lyall series.

• 2 •

harvest sins

Winter Pennington

Detective Arthur Kingfisher smiled at me as I entered the double

doors of the Oklahoma City Police Department. I did not return the

smile. It was ten o’clock in the morning. I do not make a habit of

smiling at the person responsible for waking me up. In my experience,

it only encourages them.

Lady knew, it wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last time

I lost precious sleep just to help the police.

Holding a recycled paper coffee cup in my hands like a lifeline,

I skirted around an officer in a dark blue uniform. I’d managed to

convince myself that swinging by Starbucks and spending five dollars

on a cup of white mocha goodness was not frivolous, it was necessary.

Thank the corporate gods they were open on Thanksgiving.

“Heya, Kass.” A lock of sandy brown hair fell over Arthur’s eyes

and he pushed it back. Arthur approached me wearing a light blue men’s

dress shirt and navy slacks. White penguins romped on his black tie.

Arthur had been promoted to detective not long ago. I was still

trying to get used to seeing him in a tie. He wasn’t a tie kind of guy. A

tie with penguins, however, was another story.

“Morning,” I grumbled.

“Aren’t you just bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?” His very blue

eyes sparkled with cheer.

I had a moment to think if only you knew before taking a long swig

of coffee. Arthur didn’t know, so I was safe. “Where’s the surveillance

footage you wanted me to take a look at?”

“What, were you up all night banging Vampira?” He gave a cheesy

smile.

• 3 •

Breathless

I didn’t answer his question, since it wasn’t any of his business.

“Her name is Lenorre, not Vampira. She’s a Countess, Arthur.

Show some respect.”

Lenorre was one of the head countess vampires of Oklahoma.

Every state has a handful of counts and countesses that oversee the

vampire community. Lenorre’s sovereign trickled through Oklahoma

City and the surrounding area. I’m not exactly sure how many counts

and countesses are in Oklahoma, as I’d never really thought to ask

Lenorre, but I do know for sure that there is another countess in Tulsa.

Okay, so sometimes the media can be informative.

Lenorre and I had been dating for a while. We’d only taken our

relationship to the level of sleeping together a few weeks ago. She’d

surprised me on my birthday by buying a new shoulder holster to

replace the one she’d broken. She’d worked something out with my

friend, Rupert, who owns a gun shop in the city. Rupert, like me, is

a licensed paranormal hunter. Both Rupert and I legally hunt down

bad paranormals that the local cops usually can’t catch due to, well, a

number of reasons.

Though, unlike me, Rupert had never been a cop. Also, unlike me,

Rupert wasn’t a lycanthrope working with the police and hiding what

he was from them.

After having been infected with lycanthropy three years ago, I

quit the force and became a preternatural private investigator. I get to

make my own hours and no one looks at me funny for never working

the night of the full moon.

Arthur eyed me speculatively as he led the way back to the

interrogation room. “Damn, you’re kind of grumpy.”

“Kind of?”

“You’re no fun this early.” He practically pouted. I had thought

friend and beta werewolf of the Blackthorne pack, Rosalin Walker, was

one of the cheeriest morning persons I knew. Apparently, I had sorely

underestimated Arthur’s morning abilities.

I frowned as he held the pale brown paint-chipped door open. Two

folding chairs had been pulled out into the middle of the room. The

table that was normally in the center was hugging the far wall to make

room for a television set on a rolling cart.

I dropped into a chair next to Arthur. He grabbed the remote,

and the reflective blank screen blinked to life. I knew the surveillance

• 4 •

Harvest Sins

footage was from a gas station, but beyond that I had no idea what

would be on the tape. I didn’t know whether to steel myself or not. I

took a deep calming breath, trying to ignore the harsh bite of Arthur’s

cologne.

The camera showed the back of an employee’s blond head. The

camera angle was wide enough to reveal most of the store with only a

few blind spots. The store wasn’t large, four aisles, a row of glass doors

lining the far right wall, a single glass door set into white brick at the

end of a candy aisle.

If someone had ducked down behind the counter in front of the

employee, I wouldn’t have seen them.

The door opened and two figures in matching black jeans, sweaters,

and black ski masks entered. It was then that I knew Arthur was making

me watch a robbery, but why I wasn’t so certain. Unless a crime had to

do with the preternatural, the cops didn’t call me in.

I leaned forward. “Pause.”

Arthur hit a button on the remote, pausing the video. I compared

the height marker in the doorway to both of the robber’s masked heads.

If you’ve ever wondered why most gas stations have these, now you

know. It gives the police a better idea of a suspect’s height.

“The first person is about five-six,” I said. “Could be male or

female.” The second robber was close behind. Arthur pressed Play and

the second robber entered, then the door closed. The tape froze again.

“The second one, I’m pretty sure is female. She’s close to my

height. There aren’t many men that are around five-one.”

Of course, Arthur had probably watched the video several times

by now, but even so, he was quiet and allowed me to check off my own

markers. It would help us avoid missing anything.

The two approached the counter. The woman wasn’t wearing

lipstick, which was a smart move, but even if her breasts weren’t obvious

under the sweater, her build and height still told me she was female. If

she’d been wearing makeup, it’d have been a dead giveaway.

One of the first things you learn when examining a crime scene is

this: always expect your perpetrator to do something stupid. Crime is

not perfect. People are not perfect. At some point or another, everyone

fucks up. My job was to find their fuck-ups.

“It wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment,” I said. “They’re both wearing

gloves. Whatever they’re about to do was premeditated.”

• 5 •

Breathless

Arthur nodded his agreement. “Keep watching. You’ll see.”

I kept watching. The woman in the video fell behind and kept

an eye on the door. The other robber stepped up to the counter, lips

moving. The employee opened the cash register and started handing

money to the robber.

The masked robber took enough time to count the bills that I

noticed the large hands inside the black gloves. I would’ve put money

down that the robber was male. How he’d so easily persuaded the

employee without a weapon, I didn’t know.

The masked woman paced in the background, her body language

jerky and quick, like she was uncomfortable and scared. Her dark eyes

kept flicking to the door, as if she was considering running out at any

moment.

The masked robber raised his face and gave the camera the full

weight of his blue-green eyes. He smiled, showing the dainty tips of

elongated canines.

“Well, crap,” I said, watching the two black figures exit the

building. “That explains how he persuaded the employee without a

weapon.”

Arthur turned the television off.

“We know he’s a vampire. What do you think about her?” Arthur

asked.

“If she is, she’s new to it,” I said. “Vampires control their body

language very well. She didn’t. She was scared and jumpy. Have you

questioned the employee?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“He doesn’t remember anything.”

“If he didn’t remember anything, how could he have remembered

to call the police? If the vampire had wiped his mind, he wouldn’t

have even bothered calling you, Arthur. You said earlier this happened

around five thirty this morning? That’s cutting it awfully close to

sunrise. Vampires are quick, but if his lair is halfway across town…”

I shook my head, thinking furiously. If the vampire would cut it that

close to sunrise, his daylight resting place had to be close by.

“It doesn’t make sense, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t. Your vampire didn’t even call his power.”

Arthur looked at me as if I’d started speaking another language he

• 6 •

Harvest Sins

was trying very hard to understand. “Call his power? How can you tell

when they do that?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know if it shows on camera, but their eyes

and skin change. They don’t glow, not exactly. You remember seeing

someone’s eyes under bright lights when they’re highly emotional? How

the color seems to get richer and more vivid?” Arthur nodded. “That’s

how it is. Their skin is naturally kind of luminous, but it becomes even

more so when they call their power. It looks like your vamp didn’t say

anything to the employee other than asking for the money. Usually,

when they go all vampiric and start playing head games, they give a

verbal command of forgetting. He didn’t say anything after taking the

money.”

“Do they always have to say something?”

A memory of Lenorre going all vampiric on Arthur swam to the

surface. When we’d first met, Lenorre had been helping me locate a

really nasty werewolf. We’d taken Claire Delaine, a woman who had

been attacked by the werewolf, away from the police and under our wing.

Lenorre had given Arthur the verbal command to forget everything, and

I knew from personal experience that her eyes had changed with her

power. Her very gray eyes turned to liquid silver, surreal, stunning, and

a little unnerving.

Of course, I didn’t tell Arthur that my girlfriend had wiped his

mind. That would have defeated the purpose. The last he knew he’d

taken Claire somewhere safe and she was off living a happy and

preternatural-free life. The truth was, she had been infected with

lycanthropy, and with Rosalin and the rest of the Blackthorne pack’s

help was learning how to adjust to life on the wild side.

“From what I know, yeah,” I said. “Is the employee still here?”

“We sent him home,” he said, standing. “But we can go talk to him

and ask him why he doesn’t remember anything. I’ll drive.”

On the way out I checked the clock on my cell phone and cursed

under my breath.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to drive out to my parents’ tonight.

Even though I’m pagan, I do take part in Thanksgiving with my folks.

This year, both of my parents had gone to visit my mother’s brother

in Missouri. So my sister and brother and I had agreed to an early

Thanksgiving. That being done with and out of the way, Rosalin was

supposed to make dinner at Lenorre’s.

• 7 •

Breathless

I fished the black sunglasses out of my coat pocket and exhaled a

deep breath before getting into Arthur’s dark blue Crown Victoria.

v

By the time we made it to Jordan Jacobson’s apartment, I was out

of coffee and a very unhappy camper.

Jacobson was twenty-one and living with roommates. The

roommates weren’t home and when Jacobson answered the door, it

looked like he’d been sleeping.

Arthur sat on a futon that was pressed against the wall in front of

a small entertainment center. Jacobson offered me a green recliner and

I shook my head, preferring to stand and observe.

“Mr. Jacobson, this is Preternatural Investigator Lyall.”

Jacobson tensed and shot me an uneasy look.

“We have a few questions for you,” Arthur continued. “You said

earlier that you thought the vampire had erased your mind?”

“Yeah.”

I felt more than saw Jordan’s blue eyes following me as I moved

around his living room, pretending to eye the movies stacked on the

entertainment center. The brown carpet was old and worn. I inhaled,

sorting through a myriad of smells. I caught the distinct whiff of old

french fries and ketchup. I turned to glance in the kitchen, spotting

the open-lid trash can. How long had it been since the trash had been

changed? There were dirty dishes in the sink that smelled like rancid

milk. I shuddered. If I ever wanted to throw my mother into conniptions,

I’d show her Jacobson’s house. I started heading for the hallway.

A lot of the time, odors mingle and form one big smell. It takes a

conscious effort for me to sort through the various ingredients. When I

focus, it’s like my body starts separating the scents.

Jacobson was in the middle of explaining to Arthur that he didn’t

know to call the police until he realized the cash register was empty

when he stopped in mid-sentence. “What’s she doing?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur said. “Investigator Lyall?”

It was the Investigator part that made me turn from the hallway.

Apparently, we were throwing titles around to make Jacobson nervous.

Fine with me, I could do that.

• 8 •

Harvest Sins

“I’m going to take a look around while you question Mr. Jacobson.”

I stared at Jacobson. “Is that all right with you?”

“I don’t think my roommates would appreciate having an

investigator sorting through their stuff.”

“Don’t worry.” I smiled, hoping it wasn’t as predatory as I felt.

“I’ll leave everything in its place.”

I heard the sound of chair legs scraping the carpet as I continued

down the hall.

“Mr. Jacobson,” Arthur warned.

There were three doors at the end of the hall. I opened the first

door on the left. It smelled of Jacobson, salty with an undercurrent of

dirty socks and crisp cologne. A twin-sized mattress sat on the floor

under a window. Someone had nailed up a dark blanket in place of a

curtain. A stereo with an alarm was within arm’s reach of the bed. I

stepped into the room.

Dirty clothes littered every surface. I opened the sliding closet

door to find more clothes and a mess of shoes that would’ve made a gay

man proud. I highly doubted the mess and tacky blanket would make

one squeal with pride, though.

I kept exploring, ignoring the smell of unclean bathroom. I

discovered the master bedroom at the very end of the hall. The room

was much cleaner with a neatly made four-poster bed in the center of

the room. Ah, a woman’s touch. No, I wasn’t gathering that from the

bed alone. The scent of floral perfume and scented candles hung in the

air.

I checked the closet, relying on my vision as well as sense of

smell. The closet was lined neatly with clothes, one side his and one

side hers.

Something about Jacobson wasn’t right. His story wasn’t right. He

was too tense and nervous, obviously hiding something.

Crossing to the nightstand by the bed, I picked up a small picture

with a metal frame. A woman with dark eyes and bleached blond hair

stood next to a male with shoulder-length brown hair. He was smiling

widely, and if it hadn’t been for the unkempt eyebrows, he might’ve

been one of those guys other guys call pretty. The white and dark green

building of Jacobson’s apartment formed the backdrop. I tapped my hip

with the corner of the photograph, scanning the room.

• 9 •

Breathless

“You’re fucking kidding me,” I whispered, as a thought bubbled

to the surface of my mind. I raised the photograph again.

The guy had the girl tucked into the crook of his arm. The look on

her face was softer and more reserved than his bold, broad stare. His

eyes were blue-green.

I couldn’t help it, I laughed. I raised my eyes to the ceiling.

“Seriously?”

If the Gods heard me, they didn’t answer.

I returned to the living room and tossed the small frame to Arthur.

He caught it without fumbling.

“Where are your roommates, Jordan?”

Jacobson’s eyes went wide and he rocked back in his seat. “Shit.”

“Um, yeah. Shit about covers it. So, where are your friends?”

When Jacobson didn’t answer, Arthur put the picture down on the

wooden coffee table.

“We can do this the hard way, if you want to,” I said. “Detective

Kingfisher can arrest you and I can go search your apartment more

thoroughly. I’m sure I’ll find old bills or something else that will

identify them.” I crossed my arms over my chest, careful of the Mark

III in its holster beneath my peacoat. If it had been any day other than

Thanksgiving, I would’ve threatened to have the police check his bank

records. Of course, even for searching the apartment the cops would’ve

needed a warrant, but I didn’t mention that. When threatening, some

things are better left unsaid, and besides, I’m not a cop. “Your choice,

Jacobson.”

Jacobson decided to do it the easy way and gave us the names of

his roommates. Christina Simmons and Joshua Roberts. Joshua was a

vampire wannabe, which explained the lack of fangs in the photograph

and the fangs on the surveillance footage. Then again, the photo

could’ve been taken before he’d been turned, but he hadn’t been turned,

and that was the point.

Jacobson went to the bathroom and emerged carrying a case with

two dainty fangs in it. When Arthur took the case, he started laughing.

“Damn kids these days,” he said. “What in the world would make

you think a preternatural expert wouldn’t see through these?”

Jacobson shrugged. “We didn’t know there would be a,” he seemed

to have forgotten the word, “paranormal investigator.”

• 10 •

Harvest Sins

And that was the truth. They thought they could fool the cops

by pretending a vampire had wiped Jacobson’s mind. The kids didn’t

know enough about vampires and the aftereffects of being charmed by

one to make their story convincing. At first, it might have worked on

the cops, but I suspected once Jacobson’s manager realized he’d failed

to do the nightly drop, he’d have gotten caught.

Arthur called for backup. Once two cops I didn’t recognize

showed up in their squad cars, Arthur told them to park down the street

and wait inside until Christina and Joshua got home. I was thankful

Arthur wasn’t going to force me to stand around twiddling my thumbs,

but I hadn’t expected him to drop it in someone else’s lap just to take

me back to my car.

On our way out of Jacobson’s apartment, I asked him, “Are you

sure you don’t want to stay?”

“No, they can sit around and wait to arrest them,” he said. “I’m

taking you back and going to get lunch.”

I opened the door and slid into the seat. “Sounds like a plan to

me.”

It’s true what they say, sometimes the universe does smile. It might

not have been smiling on Jordan Jacobson and his roommates, but hey,

that was their own damn fault.

v

“Kassandra.”

Lenorre’s voice was smooth and velvety, her British accent only

slightly noticeable. I blinked my eyes open. The bedside lamp was on,

casting a soft glow from its frothy globe.

I stretched, shoving my arms under the pillow.

“You’re awake,” I mumbled, trying to push away the last clinging

strands of sleep.

Lenorre touched my cheek with cool tapered fingers. “So are

you.”

The blouse she wore was the color of hematite, bluer than the pure

gray glory of her eyes. It showed the slim and curvaceous perfection

of her waist, the gentle swell of her breasts. The color brought out the

preternatural luminosity of her white skin.

• 11 •

Breathless

“You’re dressed,” I noted, letting the appreciation of her attire fill

my eyes. “What time is it? Have you fed?”

“’Tis eight and yes, I have fed.”

I sat up, pushed my tangled black hair out of my face, and guided

the hair to fall down my back. “Gods, it’s already eight?”

“Rosalin informed me your little detective friend sought your aid.

So I thought to allow you to rest. What happened?”

I told her. When I was done, Lenorre’s eyes shone with soft

amusement.

“That was rather foolish,” she said. I nodded my agreement,

reclining against the mound of pillows. Lenorre lay next to me, tracing

the line of my jaw with the tips of her fingers. I turned my face into her

palm, brushing my lips across her skin.

One touch, one simple touch and a heated look was all it took to

make the breath catch in my throat. She bent at the waist and I knew

she was about to kiss me.

“You should really let me brush my teeth first.”

Lenorre got to her hands and knees. “I have a better solution,” she

said, stretching her body across the bed and reaching for the nightstand.

I wanted to go to her, to slide my hands across the tight swell of her ass

and to her waist. I wanted to tuck my hands under the silken material of

her blouse, to feel her cool skin beneath my fingers.

I hadn’t realized I’d made a noise until Lenorre turned her head

to look at me.

“That look,” she said in a breathy voice, eyes dark. The top drawer

of the nightstand slid closed with a quiet click. Amusement rose in

her expression to mingle with that seductive darkness. “Why are you

holding yourself?” she asked wryly.

“I don’t know, exactly,” I said, lowering my arms.

She stayed where she was, glorious body stretched out like an

offering, gaze meeting mine invitingly over her shoulder.

The wolf inside me pricked her ears in curiosity.

“Kassandra, what are you thinking?”

I closed my eyes and licked my lips.

“That’s a very distracting position.”

Lenorre gave her honeyed laugh. “Oh?”

I opened my eyes. The shirt fell away from her stomach, giving

me a peek-a-boo view of her pale skin underneath.

• 12 •

Harvest Sins

Good Gods.

“Come here,” she whispered. There was no power or pull in her

voice.

Stubbornly, I shook my head. “If you plan on wearing that to

dinner, that’s not a good idea.”

“Ah,” she said, understanding. She sat back on her heels and held

out her hand. It took me a moment to realize she was holding a small

box of mints. I laughed.

“The better solution is keeping a box of mints stashed next to the

bed?” I asked, taking one.

She tossed the small box aside, hands rising to unbutton her shirt.

“I know how much you appreciate good hygiene.”

“Are you trying to make me choke on my mint?” I asked, tucking it

behind my teeth. I pushed the blankets aside and stopped her by putting

a hand over hers. My T-shirt was long enough to cover the crimson lace

shielding my intimate bits. Lenorre liked the sight of red against my

skin.

“No,” she said, “I am only trying to spare my clothes.”

I touched the silken collar of her shirt, stroking it between my

thumb and index finger. On her knees, she was still taller than me and I

had to look up to meet her gaze. “What if I don’t want to spare them?”

“You are the one that gave me a choice.” She touched my thighs,

hands sliding up to cradle my hips.

I grabbed two fistfuls of my shirt and tugged it over my head,

before tossing it to the floor.

Her hands slid over my stomach, threatening to go higher.

“Take your clothes off without making a show of it,” I whispered

against her lips, “or I’ll rip them off.”

Her generous eyelashes fluttered. She did what I asked, but even

with quick and adept hands, there was some show to it. With Lenorre,

how could it be otherwise? She was a vampire; watching her undress

was like watching some dark and seductive goddess unveil her beauty.

I reached behind her back, unhooking her bra and dragging it

down her arms.

The sight of her made me ache between the legs. I ignored that

aching need and bowed my head, taking the soft skin of her breast into

my mouth.

Lenorre moaned my name and buried her hand in my hair.

• 13 •

Breathless

I drew back, whispering, “Harder.”

Her hand twined in my hair, twined in such a way that I cried

out.

I bowed my head again, kissing the top of her breasts.

Tension strung her body. She used the grip she had to turn me,

pulling me back against her. Her hand slid down my stomach, fingers

sliding effortlessly beneath the red lace. She played those fingers at

my cleft, threatening to sink lower into the honeyed sweetness she had

summoned.

“Yes.”

Lenorre tugged my hair, forcing my head back and exposing the

line of my neck. I thought she would touch me, thought she would

finish that last downward slide, but she didn’t.

Instead, she whispered my name and I shivered. Her mouth traced

my shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses behind. She stroked the damp lips

between my legs, placing a kiss over the pulse pounding in my neck.

I tensed, afraid that she was going to bite me.

Lenorre noticed it. “You are afraid I will bite you?” Her fingers

stopped their steady teasing.

“Yes.”

“Would that truly be such a bad thing?”

I licked my lips. I was afraid to answer. She had only bitten me

twice and neither of those times had really been as a means to feed.

When I didn’t answer, I felt her lips moving. “I am a patient

woman,” she said. “I will wait, but for now…” I flinched when she

drew my skin into her mouth, sucking on it oh so carefully to avoid

breaking it. The dents of her fangs dragged across my throat, drawing

an invisible thread of desire to my groin. The pleasure of it startled me,

made things low in my body swan dive. My stomach muscles spasmed

with anticipation.

“Do you trust me, Kassandra?”

“What are you going to do to me?”

She answered me with actions, not words. Her mouth worked at

my throat, teasing me with lips and teeth. I rocked back against her,

swooning, shivering as the edge of her fangs caressed my skin.

“The neck is a very sensitive area. Particularly yours.” She kissed

me and licked me, trailing her fangs tauntingly across my skin as if she

knew where every sweet spot was located in my neck and shoulders.

• 14 •

Harvest Sins

I shivered helplessly. When her lips found a spot on the curve of my

left shoulder, she caught it lightly between her teeth and I moaned.

Her mouth sealed over it, tongue playing against it, sending a small

orchestra of shudders down the front of my body.

I moved my hips, praying she understood I wanted the hand she so

idly held against me to start doing something.

“Yes.”

“Yes?” she whispered, pressing a kiss behind my left ear, breath

warm and tickling.

“Gods, yes! I trust you. Please,” I breathed the words, “Lenorre,

touch me.”

She obliged. I made a sound of frustration when her fingers

brushed past my clit. She pushed herself inside me and I fought to hold

myself upright. Her grip in my hair did most of the holding.

“Lenorre,” I said, eyelashes fluttering as she slid her fingers in and

out of me. “Lenorre, I want you to stroke me.”

She laughed and the laugh vibrated against my neck, forced

another shudder from me. Her hand moved up my body to stroke me

and I sank into her, closing my eyes.

I felt her breath against my neck before she again asked, “Are you

certain you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Two things happened at once: her stroking rhythm quickened, and

I felt her open her mouth to bite me. My entire body went rigid with fear

and pleasure. When the bite came, the orgasm overrode it, slamming

into me and forcing my spine to bow against her body. My hips bucked

forward and in one final stroke and cry, reality tumbled away.

Lenorre loosened her grip in my hair and I swayed forward. She

laughed softly, helping to guide me onto the pillows.

I lay on my stomach and stared at her, body spent and mind

cloudy. I reached up with an arm that still felt unreal and touched my

neck, checking for blood. There was none. Her mouth was clean and

perfect.

“You didn’t bite me?”

“I did not bite you hard enough to bleed you, no. You have said

you are not ready.”

I had, but it didn’t erase the fact that even that little bite had

• 15 •

Breathless

thoroughly rocked my world. Lenorre had thrown her power at me

once. She had projected Zaphara’s feelings onto me, so that instead

of her fangs buried in Zaphara’s skin, I had felt her fangs in mine. It

occurred to me that was probably one of the reasons I was still hesitant

about feeding her. In truth, I wasn’t ready. She knew it and I knew it.

Lenorre also knew that if she pushed it, I’d resist even more.

She traced the raven tattooed on my back, her nails tickling the

swirling knot work decorating its body. I closed my eyes, relaxing. Her

fingers brushed the tail feathers toward the base of my spine.

“Have I told you how truly beautiful you are?” she asked and I

opened my eyes to look at her.

“Once,” I said, remembering. “At least, that I recall.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. Her fingers brushed my ass as

she smiled tenderly, head resting on her bent arm. “Have I told you that

you are a thousand times more beautiful nude and in my bed?”

I sat back on my heels and reached for her waistband. She rolled

onto her back, allowing me to unhook her slacks. I pulled them down,

revealing the black material stretched over the delicious mound of

her. The slacks landed in a fall of cloth with the rest of our discarded

clothes.

I moved to kneel between her legs, kissing above the line of her

undergarments.

There was a knock on the door.

I gave a low growl, lips trembling against Lenorre’s skin. I felt her

body react to it.

“Is it locked?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Should I stop so you can get it?” I inhaled deeply, trying to get a

sense of who was knocking. Who did I get to be mad at?

Regretfully, Lenorre nodded and I sat up. She grabbed two robes

from the back of the closet door, shrugged into the black one, and

handed me the dark green one that I often wore. I put it on, belting the

waist.

A moment before she opened the door, the smell of earth and

forest, of another wolf, filled my senses. I could suddenly taste cool

ginger on my tongue. Rosalin.

Lenorre stepped back to admit her. Rosalin, being a lycanthrope,

didn’t need to see the clothes on the floor or the messy covers and my

• 16 •

Harvest Sins

hair to know what Lenorre and I had been doing. I expected her to

comment or to at least smirk, but she didn’t. Her honey brown eyes

looked serious.

“Rupert is here,” she said. “He said he needs to speak to you. It’s

urgent.”

I blinked. “Urgent?”

She nodded, auburn hair bobbing in its ponytail, and said to

Lenorre, “He wants to speak to you as well.”

“We will be up shortly.”

Rosalin looked my way, an expression in her eyes I didn’t

understand.

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” she said. “Dinner is almost ready. I

wouldn’t have disturbed you if Rupert hadn’t insisted.”

“It’s okay, Ros.” I climbed off the bed. “What’s wrong?”

She wouldn’t meet my gaze.

I tried again. “Rosalin.”

Lenorre gave her a quizzical look.

Rosalin’s chest rose and fell unsteadily behind her pink T-shirt.

Her eyes glistened with tears. I approached and touched her arm. A few

months ago I’d accidentally claimed her as my wolf. It hurt to see her

so sad and to not understand why. I didn’t think it was because of what

Lenorre and I had been doing.

“I hate holidays,” she said, words choked.

I put my hands on her shoulders and pulled her into me. Rosalin’s

arms slipped around my waist and I felt the sob go through her. She was

a few inches taller than me, especially when I wasn’t wearing shoes,

but I reached up anyway to stroke her hair.

That one touch did it. Rosalin collapsed against me, holding on to

me like she was drowning. We went to our knees on Lenorre’s carpeted

floor. I held her body close. She clung to me.

I looked at Lenorre, trying to ask her with my eyes if she had any

idea what was wrong.

Lenorre knelt beside us and caressed Ros’s hair. “The loss of your

parents?”

Rosalin buried her face in my shoulder. She fought the silent sobs

long enough to say, “Yes.”

Neither Lenorre nor I asked any more questions. We didn’t need

to.

• 17 •

Breathless

I sat on the floor and held her. She’d lost both of her parents in

a car accident when she was twenty-one. Some years had passed, but

still, the loss was enormous. Her brother Henry was the only family she

had aside from pack.

Rosalin drew away from me, wiping her face with her shirt. “I’m

sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m keeping you from Rupert. I interrupted you.

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, but once I saw you—” She choked on a sob

and buried her face in her hands. “Fuck! Why can’t I stop crying?”

I kept a hand on her back, keeping her from drawing away

completely. I felt the wolf inside me, saw her in my mind, eyes sad,

ears lowered. I felt her sadness, her desire to comfort one of our own.

Sighing, I held Ros close, brushing my cheek across hers in a

gesture that was more wolf than human. Her tears were cool against

my skin. I licked her face, taking in the salty sweetness of those tears.

A great loneliness gripped my heart. I felt Rosalin’s need for comfort,

a need so true and intense that it was like starving. Her pain hit me like

a crashing wave.

Lenorre touched my shoulder and I turned to look at her. She

brushed her finger across my cheek and came away with a trembling

teardrop. I hadn’t realized I was crying.

I reached for her, my lover, and she came to me, pressing as much

of her robed body as she could against mine while I held Rosalin. She

encircled my waist with one arm and I wrapped an arm around her as

well as Rosalin.

“You don’t need to stop crying, Rosalin,” I whispered. “We’re

here. You can fall apart. It’s okay. We’ll hold you.”

The great sobs that had shook her body picked up again. Rosalin

screamed, one long and angry scream, her face contorted with the pain.

She threw her head back and howled. Even if I wasn’t a lycanthrope, I

would’ve caught the mourning and sorrowful tune of her song.

The wolf’s need rushed through me and I tilted my head back,

echoing the lonesome call in a long, clean note.

Rosalin nestled into me tighter and offered her voice to mine.

Distantly, I felt Lenorre shifting her arm, sensed the ripples of

other energies entering the room. The air was heavy with the scent of

rich soil and patchouli.

Another call came, echoing Rosalin’s. I raised my face to find

Trevor, one of the more submissive wolves of the Blackthorne pack,

• 18 •

Harvest Sins

standing in the doorway with tears in his brown eyes. He dropped

to his knees and we, my wolf and I, knew that he was waiting for

permission.

I held my hand out and he crawled to us, keeping his head low to

the ground so that all I could see was the bleached blond of his surfer

hair. In his jeans and blue shirt, he knelt by Rosalin, reaching for her

uncertainly, as if he was afraid of how she would react.

A high and concerned whimper emitted from his throat.

Rosalin brushed his hand and Trevor plastered his body against

hers, bumping us roughly enough that if it wasn’t for Lenorre’s support,

we would have fallen over.

The smell of forest fell over us like a comforting blanket. Someone

nudged my hand and I opened my eyes.

Claire’s full lips brushed across my knuckles. Her wide hazel eyes

searched mine. I knew by the confused look that Claire probably had

no idea why she felt the urge to join us. Though she was gaining better

control over her wolf, the wolf’s urges were still strong within her,

strong enough that she probably came to us without realizing it.

I knew she had a room upstairs, but until that moment I hadn’t

known she was having Thanksgiving with us. I touched her cheek,

pushing the brown tresses away from her face. She accepted the

invitation, and Trevor moved so that she had room to join our little

snuggle party.

I smelled air and rain, like sky and slick streets. Zaphara stood

above us. She was fey, not a lycanthrope, and I didn’t always get along

with her, but the energy spilling from her skin caressed mine, calling

to the blood in my veins, like two droplets of water colliding. She did

not wait for my permission, but knelt and rested a hand on Rosalin.

Her aubergine hair was pulled back in its usual tight braid. Her model

features were striking, but it was her eyes that made me hold her gaze.

Her eyes, shining like amethysts, were filled with such soft compassion

I was reluctant to turn her away.

Rosalin’s tears slowed, but even after the tears stopped fallng, we

held her. We comforted her. Lenorre’s energy was a cool balm against

my back, like a slight breath of winter wind. I cradled the arm she had

wrapped around my waist.

“Thank you,” Rosalin whispered, to me, to all of us.

Trevor responded, “We’re your family.”

• 19 •

Breathless

Rosalin looked at me, eyes still damp and red from crying. She

smiled sadly.

“It’s true,” I said, brushing aside a strand that had broken free of

her ponytail.

“I know,” she said, “but uh, you guys are kind of smooshing

me.”

I laughed, leaning back against Lenorre.

“It seems your wolf is feeling better,” Lenorre said.

“Yes,” I said, not bothering to argue whether she was my wolf or

not. In that moment, I agreed with Trevor. We were family.

Claire peeked at me from around Trevor’s shoulder. “That was

amazing,” she said, tears still damp on her cheeks. “I’ve never felt so

whole…so at peace with myself.”

Rosalin actually giggled. “Welcome to the pack.”

“But you’re not a part of the pack,” Claire said to me.

“No, but she has the mark of an alpha and you answered her call,”

Zaphara said rather cryptically.

I met her gaze and the look in her eyes was more Zaphara, less

compassionate and more tricksy and mysterious.

“What made you want to join?”

“I’m fey,” she said, as if that explained everything. I let it go.

“We should speak with Rupert,” Lenorre said.

I clutched the robe, holding it carefully in place as I tried to get to

my feet. I didn’t get very far, considering Rosalin was practically sitting

in my lap and Trevor and Claire were still pressed against her.

“Yeah,” I said, “we should before he starts wondering what the

hell is going on.”

Lenorre helped me to my feet and drew my back against her chest,

hugging my waist.

“Shit,” Rosalin said as she got to hers. “Fucking shit!”

“What?”

She ran for the door, calling over her shoulder, “The bird!”

Trevor and Claire hurried out after Rosalin. Zaphara crossed her

arms over her chest, considering me.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing. I believe Rosalin will be relieved when she finds that I

rescued her bird before it was beyond edible.”

• 20 •

Harvest Sins

“What did you do, pull the stove out of the wall?”

She scoffed. “No, why would I do that?”

I played my nails across Lenorre’s arms.

Lenorre’s laugh thrummed against my back. “Kassandra is

implying that she does not believe you know how to find your way

around a kitchen, Zaphara.”

“I don’t,” she admitted. I hadn’t actually thought it was true, but

had thought the joke would irritate her. “However, opening the door

and taking the turkey out when the timer went off wasn’t exactly

difficult.”

“Who knew you cared,” I said.

“I wouldn’t have,” she said in a bland voice, if Zaphara’s sultry

voice could ever be bland, “if I wasn’t going to be partaking in eating

it.”

Such was Zaphara.

v

We met in the upstairs parlor. Rupert sat in one of the white

armchairs, wearing a dark sweater and black jeans. The brown spikes

of his hair were gelled into place. When I entered, he stood and offered

a black case that he’d been holding in his lap.

“What is this?” I asked.

“A belated birthday present.”

“From you?” I asked, taking the heavy case.

“No.” His blue-gray eyes went to Lenorre.

I gave her a suspicious look. “What did you do?”

She smiled, silvery eyes sparkling in the brightly lit room.

“Open it and see.”

I sat on the edge of the couch and opened the case. I recognized

the beveled slide serrations and shiny steel. The breath caught in my

throat. I ran the tip of my finger over the word Kimber engraved on the

side of the gun.

I’d been wanting that gun for a while. I’d actually mentioned it

once to Rupert. The last I knew, he didn’t have any in stock, and even

if he’d given me a discount, it was still a little too expensive for my

tastes.

• 21 •

Breathless

“Kass, you can close your mouth,” Rupert said.

I couldn’t help it. I stared at Lenorre. “You didn’t have to do

this.”

She traced the white streak in my hair. “I wanted to.”

Something hit the couch and I jumped. I turned to find a shoulder

rig that Rupert had practically launched at me.

“That one your girlfriend shouldn’t be able to rip apart so easily,”

he said.

I looked at Lenorre. “You told him about that?”

She lifted her shoulders. “It came up briefly when I was replacing

the other.”

I grabbed a handful of her curls and tugged her head down to

mine, kissing her softly.

“Thank you,” I whispered, this time against her lips.

“You are more than welcome.” She touched my throat and

something about the way she did it made my cheeks flush with heat,

reminded me of what we’d been doing earlier and what we had left to

finish.

“I will meet you in the dining room. No doubt Rosalin is setting

the table.” She looked at Rupert. “You are welcome to join us, if you

wish.”

Rupert nodded. “Thanks.”

“I’ll be there in a moment,” I said.

I watched the way the high heels made her hips sway, the way the

slacks hugged her very delicious form and spilled down her legs, the

way her onyx curls fell, dancing at her waist.

“You’re really in love with her,” Rupert said, almost casually.

“Yes.” I sighed. “I am hopelessly, completely, madly, and sinfully

in love with that woman.”

“Huh.” He looked uncharacteristically thoughtful. “You know, I

haven’t exactly been nice to her, but I’m starting to think maybe the

Countess is good for you, Kass. She seems good to you.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re not giving her enough credit,

Rupert.”

He grinned, blue eyes hardening coldly. “I’m not giving her more

than that, Kass.”

“You don’t have to,” I said. “I will. Are you going to stay?”

“Do you want me to stay?”

• 22 •

Harvest Sins

“You’re a brother to me,” I said. “Of course I want you to stay.”

The smile he gave me made his eyes warmer. Well, as warm as

they got. “I’ll stay.”

“Good.” I led the way to the dining room. The table had already

been set, and Lenorre sat at the far end. I took the empty chair next to

her.

Lenorre’s lips brushed my ear. “After you are well fed we have

other matters to attend to.”

I met the seductive look in her gray eyes. “Trust me, I’m all

yours.”

• 23 •

lee lynch <leelynch6.tripod.com> has published fifteen books, including the classics Toothpick House and The Swashbuckler. Her

most recent novel is Beggar of Love. Her monthly column “The

Amazon Trail” appears in gay publications across the country. Lynch

is the recipient of the The James Duggins Mid-Career Author Award,

the Lesbian Fiction Readers’ Choice, Golden Crown Literary Society

Trailblazer, and Alice B. Reader’s awards, and has been inducted into

the Saints and Sinners Hall of Fame.

The characters in “The Top” first appeared in Sweet Creek and Toothpick

House (www.boldstrokesbooks.com).

• 24 •

the toP

lee lynch

Annie Heaphy had been to Oregon several times to visit Vicky,

usually when her life was flipping ass over teakettle. They

would always drive to the coast for a day, but this time they headed

inland, where Vicky had promised to spend Christmas Day with a

couple who ran a natural food store. Vicky’s wife, Jade, was stuck in

Mumbai, where her company had sent her for three months.

“Good career move,” Vicky had explained.

“Bad for the heart,” Annie had muttered as the old wave of love

for Vicky washed through her. Lately she’d started beating herself up

again: should she have agreed to move cross country with Vicky all

those years ago? Would they have stayed together? It was sad, but

Vicky and Jade made a better match. Although Vicky was still her best

friend, the friendship was laced with regrets.

Vicky’s small law firm had clients who were sometimes a three-

hour drive away, dug into little valleys and hidden in the hills. Going

south, Vicky had told her, she always stopped for lunch at Natural

Woman Foods, did a little shopping to support them, and brought home

one of Donny’s excellent cinnamon pull-aparts. Every year Vicky sent

one for Annie’s birthday. It always made Annie’s girlfriend, Chantal,

kind of pissy, because Chantal wanted the star attraction to be the cake

her gay son, a baker, made. That Annie wouldn’t share her ex’s gift

with anyone but Chantal, while she shared Ralph’s cakes with everyone

Chantal invited over, was a sore point. Annie’s sore point was the party

itself. She was vastly uncomfortable, her face glowing hot and red, as

she opened birthday presents and gave out the expected thank-you hugs

along with wisecracks.

• 25 •

Breathless

They could smell the roasting turkey even before Chick, who

Vicky said was the other half of the Natural Foods couple, opened

the door for them at the top of a steep narrow staircase that ran up an

outside wall. Chick’s hug and exclamation of delight welcomed them

to a real home, perched though it was above the store. Outside she’d

been chilly from the icy fog; in here, a living room woodstove pumped

out the most genuine heat she’d ever felt. She wanted to melt into the

couch, hang like a drape, stretch out like the braided rug, and hoped

Donny and Chick never redecorated.

She’d left Chantal back in Morton River Valley with her daughter,

son, and their families. Chantal Zak was an adorable pudgy fifty, and

Annie didn’t know if she could stand another minute with her. Could

she breathe better in Oregon because the air really was better, or was it

because Chantal was on the other side of the country? Maybe she just

wanted a little break; she so wanted them to stay together. She didn’t

have to make a decision today, not Christmas Day. Or did she? She

was waiting for Chantal to call at 5:00, after a long day with her kids’

grandparents.

Chick led Vicky and Annie through the kitchen, where a woman in

overalls said, “Come on in! I’m Donny.” Donny slid the turkey out of

the oven with the help of a radically short-haired younger woman who

called, “Yo, dude, dude-ess, Jeep here.”

As the last arrivals, Vicky and Annie were introduced to a host

of women, each of whom was engaged in some task: setting the table,

playing with a little round-faced boy, braiding evergreen branches into

a wreath, peeling foil off steaming bowls of potluck offerings, playing

holiday songs on guitar, adding ornaments to the Christmas tree,

lighting all the candles on a menorah. She immediately forgot most of

the names, but let herself be seated, with some ceremony, at the long

table, across from Vicky. She removed her tweed cap and shook out her

shaggy fair hair.

The witchy-looking woman who’d been making the wreath stood

by what looked like a round pig trough, the kind Annie had seen at

county fairs. It was big enough for a prize hog to bathe in, but filled

with gifts. The woman raised her hand, and as if by her power, all the

lights went off, including those on the Christmas tree. Annie spied two

assistants—or were they acolytes?—at the lights. The witchy woman,

who seemed familiar somehow, spoke of coming home to celebrate

• 26 •

The Top

solstice. She went on about the plant-themed gifts brought by all the

guests (Vicky had provided handcrafted vanilla-scented sachets), and

about Yuletide, Yule, and the heathen feast Jul. She placed the wreath in

the center of the table, explaining its history over the centuries.

“The darkness gives us rest,” she pronounced, “and the light gives

us life.” The woman lifted a long butane lighter, the kind used for

barbecues, flame shooting to a candle set in the middle of the wreath.

Annie glanced around for another exit and made note of the front door.

Wasn’t anyone else worried about fire?

Immediately, that door opened and a tall figure loomed in it for a

moment, then stepped inside and closed the door, silently, behind her.

“Jesus, R,” the newcomer said, with a quiet authority. “Are you

trying to burn the place down?”

The woman called R raised her hands and the lights came on. The

room looked dazzling now.

Donny said, “Come on in, Joan.”

Joan pulled off her cap, its Sheriff’s Department emblem matching

the one on her jacket. She did not remove her gun belt or radio. “Sorry

I’m late.” She took the empty seat next to Cat—not a name Annie

would forget.

“We’re just eating,” Donny said and stuck platters of turkey on the

table. “If R is done searing the wreath.”

The woman called R bowed her head and, with a smile that

broadcast long-suffering tolerance and a humble superiority, sat.

All hell broke loose then, with bowls passing, serving spoons

scraping, a splat of jellied cranberry sauce on the little boy’s lap, and

everyone talking at once. This reminded Annie of Christmases when

she was a kid, with the aunts and uncles, the off-color guffaws, the

goosing, the spilling, the pouring of cider from a thick glass gallon

jug—which Chick was doing for her right now.

Chick’s presence felt like the sun emerging on a gloomy day.

Chick pressed her hand on Annie’s shoulder as she went by. Had Chick

said “Hot butch” to her?

There was wine on the table, but she didn’t want the scratchy-

eyed feeling that came later, when it wore off. She stuck to cider and

to figuring out who this R woman looked like. The woman next to her,

Sarah, was saying she was an architect. How she and Jeep were from

Reno, Nevada, originally and were going to Idaho to get married and

• 27 •

Breathless

would have a baby as soon as she could manage it, but they’d had

no luck with that so far. Sarah sat with the smiling little boy between

her and Cat. “Luke’s mom,” she explained, “is visiting her other kids

in Mexico.” When Annie raised her eyebrows at this, Sarah stroked

Luke’s head and added, “It’s complicated.”

Annie was reminded of Chantal and her kids. Why couldn’t she

have gotten together with a childless dyke? She was with kids all day

at work: driving them, teaching life skills to those who could use them,

feeding and cleaning up those who couldn’t. Then to spend a weekend

with Chantal fussing over her visiting grandkids, endlessly cleaning up

after them—and corralling Annie to help keep the house spotless—it

got a little much.

Chantal had always been persnickety. Now, though, Annie worried

she’d become obsessive. She was still a terrific lover, but was more and

more particular even about sex. Had Annie washed, you know, down

there? Brushed her teeth? Locked the doors? Turned off the lights?

There was little spontaneity, though the lovemaking was frequent and

enthusiastic. At least their periods were over. That had entailed a whole

other set of rules.

The woman, R, had stopped saying her weird kind of grace. Annie

whispered to Sarah, “What’s R’s real name?”

“Oh,” said Sarah. “It’s Rattlesnake. I mean, maybe not her birth

name; I hope not her birth name. Rattlesnake’s the only name I hear

her called.”

“Does she use a last name?” She’d seen R before. She would

have asked Vicky, but Jeep was speaking expansively to her about the

secondhand shop she owned and her fiddle.

“Are you going to play today?” Vicky asked. Jeep flushed red,

squirmed, said she doubted this was the time or place, but she let her

violin case peek over the table so Vicky could see it. Annie wondered if

she came across to others like Jeep did: the blushing butch.

R got up and moved behind Vicky, hands on her shoulders. “How

are you, Victoria?”

Vicky craned her head around to look at the woman and gasped.

Annie started to rise. Had the witch done something to her old lover?

“Rosemary!” cried Vicky. “Is that you?”

Rosemary? That was Rosemary from Yale who came out with

• 28 •

The Top

Claudia? If so, she’d aged. Aged terribly. The extreme short hair—she’d

always been gawky, but—had she had a mastectomy?

Rosemary was talking to Vicky, but looking at Annie. “Oh, Claudia

hasn’t exchanged a word with me since I married.”

Annie had been disgusted at the news from San Francisco, via

Vicky, of Rosemary’s marriage to a man. When Rosemary came out, it

had been the political decision of a radical feminist and she’d proceeded

to tell all the lesbians she met how to be lesbians. Annie’s old friends

from the bars still laughed about her.

Yet she’d learned from Rosemary to be enough of a feminist

that she’d brushed marriage aside like she would a spiderweb across

a doorway. While the commitment marriage demanded had its appeal,

she was uneasy about the whole concept of having, and being, a wife.

She didn’t want to own Chantal and that’s exactly what Rosemary had

preached back then, that marriage was about making women chattel in

the power of men.

“And she’s got twin sons, don’t you, R?” Clara called from the

far end of the table. Clara had been flitting in and out of the kitchen

nonstop and finally sat. As far as Annie could tell, this spare woman

in her seventies, and her big-bellied husband Hector, were the only

straights there. “All grown up, but they came to get you with their

father when you had the cancer, didn’t they, R? They got her the best

treatment.”

Hector added, “Doesn’t have a pot to pee in herself.”

“My hair still hasn’t grown back.”

She exchanged a look with Vicky. R’s sharp and universal

discontent hadn’t changed with her name. “R”? “Rattlesnake?”

Marrying? Bringing up sons? Commuting between that world and this

micro-lesbianville in the mountains? Where was the rabid man-hater?

Who was Rosemary now?

Then she laughed at herself; life did lead to strange decisions.

Chantal might well be getting ready to dump her, for all she knew, and

be uninterested in working on what they had together. At the end of the

day, what had she to offer? Happy in a dead-end low-paying job she

happened to love, her birth family all gone, and her longevity pretty

genetically iffy. To get healthier, she’d taken up bicycling and took a

spin every day after she got off work at 3:00 p.m. The first downhill

• 29 •

Breathless

whirl, that was a daily thrill. Breathing came easy as she explored her

valley’s nooks and crannies before Chantal got home from the office just

after 5:00. She loved the new solidity of her thighs. So did Chantal.

Rosemary hadn’t gotten any less weird, and she wasn’t exactly

Hollywood hit material herself, she thought. Watching The Closer

reruns with Chantal was the other highlight of her day. She genuinely

enjoyed Chantal and looked forward to a week in Provincetown every

summer and a visit to Rockefeller Center every Christmas where they

would take in a show at Radio City Music Hall and spend the night at

Dr. Turkey’s place.

They had a history together, she thought with some warmth. Dr.

Turkey was Chantal’s name for Annie’s oldest friend, Turkey, who was

now a professor of sociology. Someone chose that moment to pass the

platter to her. She smiled at the memory of Chantal’s running family

joke. Every Thanksgiving she would tell the littlest grandkid about

Annie’s famous friend in New York City who invented turkeys.

She gave the platter to Sarah and accepted gravy from—what was

the name? Jeep.

“So,” Jeep said, “you’re an East Coaster?”

She grinned. “I’ve always been a fan of wizard-style towns, like

where Harry Potter shops.”

With a rush of enthusiasm, Jeep said, “That’s exactly how I

imagine New York City, or Boston, or places like Hoboken, New Jersey,

and, let’s see,” Jeep scratched at her dark, brushy hair. “New Orleans,

though that’s not exactly the East Coast, is it?”

“A different kind of magic,” she said.

“It’s dark back there, right? I mean, compared to the Left Coast?”

Jeep was spooning green beans with sliced almonds onto her plate,

trying valiantly to keep the gravy from soiling them. Annie slipped her

knife from her pocket to help with the dam.

“A silver Swish Army knife? Now that’s slick.”

Annie quickly opened all the tools. “This is the best,” she said,

jabbing a finger at the saw.

Jeep reached in her pocket and displayed a well-worn green Girl

Scout knife. “A Kutmaster, from the 1960s. Old.”

“Oh, man. That thing has definite street cred,” Annie said, thinking

that the 1960s weren’t all that long ago. They exchanged knives and

inspected them.

• 30 •

The Top

Jeep ran her thumb along Annie’s blade. “You keep that sharp.”

Sarah laughed and said, “Chick! Look at the bois with their dueling

pocketknives.”

In a flash, everyone seemed to zero in on them, all smiling and

curious. Quickly, they handed back their knives and concentrated on

the food. “Great grub, Donny—everybody!” Jeep said.

“They’re shy!” Sarah teased, but the talk went back to food.

She recognized herself in Jeep, though she was into hats, not

strange haircuts.

After she turned fifty, her enthusiasms had become selective.

She was older than that Girl Scout knife. Jeep was obviously still

giving megawatt energy to everything equally. She was young and

adventurous—and ready to accept settling down forever. She watched

Jeep wave knife and fork in the air to illustrate a point. Sarah reached

across her to capture Jeep’s hand.

“Oh. Right. Chill,” Jeep said and laid down the knife. Jeep’s

adventures were with Sarah now.

So maybe it wasn’t Chantal, thought Annie. Maybe it was herself,

slowing down. Chantal might be sensing that and scared that Annie had

lost interest.

“So, really, where are you from?” Jeep asked.

Annie was glad to be taken away from her simmering brain.

“I grew up in Beantown, but I live in Connecticut.” She’d learned

that people out west had only a vague idea of the original thirteen

colonies’ geography and that it did no good to offer details.

But Jeep perked up, if it was possible for her to be any perkier.

“Katie’s filming in Connecticut right now. In some little town—

Waterbury? Do you know where that is?”

“You bet. It’s just northwest of where I live in Morton River.

Who’s Katie?”

Jeep glanced across her at Sarah. “A mistake I made once,” she

told Annie.

Sarah’s tone was gentle. “Don’t say that, Jeep. You had some oats

to sow. And you found us this wonderful community.”

Jeep nodded, looking at her plate, lips tight. “I’m just glad it’s

done,” she said, then, eyes alight, told Annie, “We live over our store,

too. Do you know we have a store?” Jeep smiled at Sarah. “Chick and

Donny helped out. So did Clara and Hector.”

• 31 •

Breathless

“Garage Sale Dandy, she calls it,” said Sarah.

“Oh, super name,” Annie told them.

“You need to come by tomorrow,” said Jeep.

“You’re open?”

“Yes! You’d be surprised. The day after Christmas people sell

us loot they don’t want and can’t return, then get something twice as

good or twice as many. Like if you wanted to bring in your ‘cauldron’

present. Kids with Christmas money buy used video games. It’s not a

great day for musical instruments, which I mostly sell and buy on eBay

anyway, but why drive all the way to a mall when Garage Sale Dandy

has it all? That’s our motto.”

“She’s so busy I help out the days before and after Christmas,”

offered Sarah.

“Sarah’s on school break. I gave up my job wrassling preschoolers

with disabilities to run the store full-time, and they hired Sarah to

replace me. How cool is that? She’s taking classes in special ed.”

“I’m working on the certification. They always need special ed

teachers. See, Jeep? You found me my calling, too.”

“I thought you were an architect?” Annie asked. “The buildings in

Waterfall Falls are right out of an old Hollywood Western.”

Sarah sighed. Jeep explained, “Sarah can design any kind of

building: retro Western, modern, you name it. But finding a job? Hard

enough in the big cities.”

“And I refuse to sit in front of a computer doing CAD work for

some guy. That’s incredibly boring.”

Jeep leapt up then to take care of something in the kitchen with

Donny. Sarah and Cat fussed over Luke’s cranberry stain. Annie looked

at her watch. Too soon for Chantal’s call, but she felt unbalanced here.

How did you tell if you should be living your life differently? If moving,

or splitting up, or enjoying the heck out of what you had was right?

She’d caught herself looking at the houses on the way from Vicky’s.

Imagining herself in a rental in Eugene or out in a very small town, like

Waterfall Falls. Everyone here seemed happy. She felt happy.

When a few women rose to leave the table and her offer to help

in clearing or cleaning had been refused, she asked if she could see the

store.

“Of course,” said Chick, showing her the indoor stairs and

• 32 •

The Top

flicking a light on for her. “I’ll come down and give you a tour in a few

minutes.”

She bounded down the stairs like a top spun hard and set free. As

she wandered the place, she noted that it was no hole in the wall. Food,

personal care, supplements, even organic wines. There were two booths

and a couple of tables that probably came from Garage Sale Dandy. She

sat by a window. The corner sign read Stage Street. Was there a theater?

Then it hit her. Waterfall Falls must have been a stagecoach stop. Wow,

she thought. Despite growing up a T ride from Boston’s Freedom

Trail, history had never seemed so close. Otherworldly ornamental

cabbages—light green, purple, ethereal white—grew in a long wood

and tin planter out front. That’s where the horses once were hitched.

Wow, wow, wow. She wished she could show it to Chantal.

The truth was, she missed her Chantal. Maybe she should quit

waffling and, now that it was legal for them to marry in Connecticut, go

ahead and do it. Vicky had gone along with Jade’s wish to marry. She’d

go home, get down on her knees, and ask Chantal to marry her. Would

that get them back on track? It might fix her own wavering affections.

They’d have a sweet wedding and a honeymoon that would jump-start

them. She imagined Chantal saying, “Com’ere, sugar,” in her throaty

voice, leading her, that swing of her hips promising everything a woman

can promise. Annie, as usual, wanting to fill her hands with those hips,

insisting that she undress Chantal herself. That golden moment when

Chantal’s breasts would come free of her bra and fill Annie’s waiting

hands. What a rush that was, every time.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Heaphy,” she’d say. Chantal’s light blue

eyes would go dreamy. She would kiss Chantal’s near-constant wedding-

day smile. This was what they’d needed to do, she’d say with her hand

between Chantal’s legs, her own excitement another “I do.” Chantal on

her back, beyond ready for Annie to demand entry and reach far inside

so Chantal could close around her fingers, and open, and close, and

come with all her being. Then, whispering that she was still feeling it,

turn to touch Annie with her delicate fingers.

It was more like half an hour before Chick arrived downstairs.

Annie was whistling as she aligned items on the shelves.

Chick said. “Let me give you a big old hug. I didn’t have enough

of a chance earlier.”

• 33 •

Breathless

Annie found herself enveloped for a second time by a woman taller

and softer than Chantal. Chick’s scent took her back to the seventies,

when essences, rather than perfumes, were used. She put her arms

around Chick’s back and gave her a quick tight squeeze. When she

stepped away, it was with reluctance.

“You feel good,” Chick told her.

“If I had my druthers, I’d stay like that all day.”

“Don’t you have a girl back home?”

She tried to cover her shock. It wasn’t, she understood in a flash,

it wasn’t the sex, the fussiness, the kids or the sameness of her daily

life. It was this: the plain human affection Chantal had once given out

like the sun gives light was gone. Touch was rote: a peck hello or goodbye, some moments in bed after the big event. Then it was back to business, whether it be sleeping or working, making a phone call or

doing chores. Annie felt untouched. Did time do that to every couple?

Was she expecting too much?

“Are you all right, Annie?” asked Chick.

“Yes. Yes, I am. You just made me think of something I’ve been

trying to figure out.”

“Stop working on the shelves. We pay people to do that. Come

sit down.” Chick led her by the hand to a booth. She was all too aware

that it was evening and the earth was spinning away from the light of

the sun. It seemed so sad. Every day had to end. Did every love have

to also?

Tears came to her eyes when Chick looked at her and asked,

“What’s going on?”

She carried a rainbow bandana for special occasions and hated to

mess it up as it was the only one she owned, but she pulled it from her

back pocket now and dabbed at her eyes and nose. “Maybe it’s the time

of day or the time of year.”

“Or being so far from home?”

“I don’t feel far from home. This could be home as easily as

Morton River is home. It’s confusing. I could pick up stakes and resettle

out here, like Jeep and Sarah did, and I’d hardly notice.”

“Oh,” said Chick, her hands on Annie’s free hand, “I think you

would. Notice, that is. Do you want to leave her?”

“Not really.” She hesitated to make her thoughts real by saying

• 34 •

The Top

them aloud. “Lately, I’ve been feeling like a top coming out of orbit,

all wobbly.”

“Do you love her?”

“Yes, mostly. She really, really wanted me. That was a good

feeling.”

“And now?”

“Do I destroy something, and maybe someone, for not being

perfect?”

“Don’t expect perfect, Annie Heaphy.”

Chick was a big woman. Next to skinny Donny, they could

illustrate the old nursery rhyme, “Jack Sprat could eat no fat. / His wife

could eat no lean. / And so between them both, you see, / They licked

the platter clean.”

She had put on weight, too; it wasn’t just Chantal. Their

imperfections were perfect together.

Upstairs, chairs were scraping and feet were stepping, muffled

by rugs. There was a silence, the sound of a keyboard and of a violin

tuning.

“Sarah’s a talented pianist, but wait till you hear Jeep,” said

Chick.

They sat there, holding hands across the table, smiling at each

other while listening to Christmas songs on the fiddle. What would it

take to get Chantal looking as warmly at her again?

Where was Chantal, anyway? She could see the wall clock. It was

5:25. She always called on the dot, like she planned her whole day

around it. What was she thinking? This was Chantal. Of course she

would plan her whole day around it. So why hadn’t she called?

She told Chick.

“Are you worried?”

“Well, yes. Chantal always has to do the calling and control the

timing.”

“And that bothers you?”

“Not really,” Annie answered. “I’m kind of lazy about making

decisions.” She grinned. “Isn’t that what femmes are for?”

Chick said, “You’ve found our secret. Come on, let’s go back

upstairs. It’s time to exchange gifts.”

Rosemary lay on the couch, attended by the same women who had

• 35 •

Breathless

controlled the lights earlier. The sheriff and Cat were putting on their

jackets, looking sort of separate and sort of together.

Chick whispered, “Don’t tell a soul in this county that you saw the

sheriff here tonight.”

“Oh,” she said. That was another blessing with Chantal. Neither

of them would want to be grand marshall at a gay pride parade, but

they refused to be closeted. So, she thought, she’s a super lover, we

have history, we’re not into closets. Was that enough? Maybe they

could change something, anything, like where they went on vacation,

or she could break the butch barrier and hug Chantal big, a Chick

hug, regularly. And Chantal’s fussiness, was it a reaction to—what?

Something she was doing? Something Chantal was afraid of? Was

Chantal desperately trying to keep a lid on their life?

While the others exclaimed over the gifts, she thought again

about marriage. Chantal had mentioned it more than once; she’d never

suggested doing it. But then, that was one of her charms: Chantal was

an old-fashioned, small-town lady who would wait to be asked. All

of a sudden her life was spinning again, and she was filled with an

edgy excitement. After years together she’d considered that they were

as good as married, but maybe that was a way of taking Chantal, and

what they had, for granted.

It was her turn to pull a gift from Rosemary’s cauldron and be

embarrassed by everyone watching. She reached in and grabbed

something small, fully intending, as she turned, to pass it on to one of

the others. Chick was right behind her.

“I don’t need any gift except being in your home and with your

friends today,” she said, her voice loud in the hush of expectancy. “I

want you to have mine.”

“No, Annie Heaphy,” Chick said. “You’re not giving this gift

away, too.”

She furrowed her brow, taking in what Chick had said as she

removed the wrapping.

Chick slapped her knee and laughed.

It was an old wooden top, painted all around with flowers. She

loved the feel of it between her fingers, smooth and tiny and still.

Her phone rang.

• 36 •

• 37 •

This short story from nell sTark and TriniTy Tam features Valentine

and Alexa from everafter, before they were turned. Book two in the

series, nevermore, was released in 2010. Nell Stark is also the author

of the romances Running With the Wind and Homecoming. Spread the

infection at www.everafterseries.com.

• 38 •

the tWelve days of courtshiP

nell stark and trinity tam

1 alexa

I first met Valentine Darrow on the Monday after Thanksgiving.

If it had been up to me, I wouldn’t have gone out at all that night—

the semester was officially in its death throes, and I was overwhelmed

by case studies and exam preparations. But it was Nicole’s “quarter of

a century” birthday, and there was simply no way to plead out of the

festivities. And so it was that I found myself in the Niagara at just past

one in the morning, having been charged to order a round of lemon

drops.

At first, I thought the bartender was the most attractive man I

had ever seen. But when I realized my mistake, my purely aesthetic

appreciation became something far more primal. After almost ten years

of being out, I knew what attraction felt like. That was not this. This—

the electric shock that coursed down my spine, the dry mouth, the moist

palms—was desire. I wanted the woman behind the bar with a blazing

intensity that was as unexpected as it was sudden. I wanted to grip the

biceps that leapt into sharp relief as she shook a cocktail, and I wanted

her slender fingers to dip between the buttons of my shirt and trace the

skin beneath. I wanted her at my mercy, and I wanted her above me.

I wanted her. I didn’t even know her name.

And I certainly couldn’t order drinks from her, feeling like this. I

leaned one shoulder against the wall and took a few deep breaths. What

was going on with me? I’d stopped drinking over an hour ago and felt

completely sober. Was this my body’s way of telling me that my current

dry spell had gone on too long? My last relationship had ended before

• 39 •

Breathless

the semester began, and I’d been too concerned about my classes to

date casually. Clearly, I needed to carve out some time for a social life

that didn’t revolve around my straight friends.

After a few more breaths, I dared to return my gaze to the

bartender, feeling reasonably sure I could hold a conversation with her

without making a fool out of myself. As I watched, she raised her head

and surveyed the crowd for thirsty patrons. When her eyes met mine,

she froze.

With her appreciative stare, my confidence returned and the

paralysis that had anchored me to the wall dissolved. I moved forward

until I could prop my forearms on the bar and glanced at the nametag

pinned to her tank top, just above her left breast. Valentine. The name

suited her—feminine, yet striking.

And then I realized I was blatantly cruising her. A flush rose to my

cheeks, chasing away the chill of the wintry night.

“Valentine.” Her eyes were as blue as a robin’s egg. I fished my

credit card out of my leather pants. “Seven lemon drops, please. And

one Coke.”

Her fingertips slid over mine as she took the plastic—a deliberate

move, I knew, but my breath hitched nonetheless. Had she noticed?

“Would you like me to keep it open?” she asked over her shoulder,

granting me a vision of taut muscles and a slim waist as she gathered

her ingredients.

“Yes, please.”

She poured the Coke first, and I sipped at it gratefully. As she lined

up the shot glasses, a grin rose to her full lips. “I don’t trust a woman

who doesn’t drink.”

I arched one eyebrow, determined to keep my composure in the

face of her cockiness. “Why is that?”

“Not indulging in a simple vice implies that you’re saving yourself

for something much more extravagant.”

I laughed at her presumption. “It’s obvious you don’t know me.”

She paused, vodka bottle poised above the row of shots. “I’d like

that to change. Let me take you out to dinner. Tomorrow.”

For a moment, I was in danger of saying yes. Valentine the

Bartender was beautiful and confident and I enjoyed the way she looked

at me. But what could we possibly have in common? Besides, I wasn’t

• 40 •

The Twelve Days of Courtship

about to indulge myself when the specter of final exams loomed on the

horizon.

“You’re very smooth. But no, thank you.”

“All right.” Her shrug was nonchalant, her smile pleasant. The

warm feeling in my stomach soured. Whatever chemistry I’d felt

between us was nothing special to her. Valentine was obviously a

player.

I couldn’t help but watch the grace of her slender fingers as she

arranged the glasses on a small tray, but petulance at her easy dismissal

overruled my attraction. I deserved someone who would cherish me—

someone who could both excite me and match my intellect. Valentine

mixed drinks in a neighborhood bar on the Lower East Side. She

probably took home a different woman every day. I’d been crazy to

even contemplate her offer.

“Thank you,” I said coolly.

“Enjoy your night.” She turned back to the register, leaving me

relieved. And aroused. And frustrated.

But at least I had escaped unscathed.

2 Valentine

I found the right classroom in Vanderbilt Hall with ten minutes to

spare. After poking my head inside the door to make sure she hadn’t yet

arrived, I leaned back against the corridor wall to wait.

Alexa Newland. If she hadn’t paid with a credit card, tracking her

down would have been much more difficult. As it was, all I’d had to do

was make enough idle chat with one of her friends to discover that she

was a law student, and then make a late-night call to a friend of mine

who was working part-time at the registrar’s office. And just like that, I

had a copy of Alexa Newland’s class schedule.

Shifting the hot cup of coffee from my left hand to my right, I

surveyed the passersby. I wanted to see her before she noticed me.

Technically, this probably qualified as stalking, but I wasn’t trying to

be creepy. I just needed to talk to her again. She had written me off last

night, and I was going to prove to her that she shouldn’t have been so

hasty.

• 41 •

Breathless

As the minutes passed, my pulse actually started to race. I might

have been back in high school all over again, nursing my first crush on

another girl. In the intervening years, I’d never had to pursue women;

they had sought me out, and I’d been happy to be found. Alexa was

different. We hadn’t spoken for more than two minutes, but something

about her called me to the quest.

I looked right again, then left. And there she was, approaching the

classroom briskly, glancing down at her watch as she walked. She wore

charcoal slacks and a dark green blazer over a cream-colored silk shirt.

I glanced down at my worn jeans and scruffy leather jacket and wished

I’d gone for upscale instead of rugged.

“Good morning.” I pushed off the wall when she was just a few

feet away. Her eyes widened, black eclipsing the emerald irises that had

captivated me last night, and a blush bloomed over her cheeks.

“Valentine? But what are you…” Her surprise became suspicion.

“How did you find me?”

“Ah, that.” I flashed her as charming a smile as I could muster on

three hours of sleep. “I looked up your class schedule.”

“How?”

“I can’t reveal my sources,” I said, holding up one hand when she

looked like she wanted to steamroll right over me. “But my purpose

isn’t nefarious, I promise. I just wanted to offer you some caffeine,

since you were up late last night and this class is early.”

She moved forward until she was close enough to touch, and my

fingertips itched with the urge to tuck a stray lock of crimson hair behind

her left ear. She looked from the cup to me, then shook her head.

“I gave up coffee in college. Excuse me.”

Without another word, she breezed past me and into the

classroom.

3 alexa

The next morning, I returned to Vanderbilt Hall with a mix of

trepidation and anticipation swirling in my stomach. Would Valentine

be there again? Or had I succeeded in blowing her off?

In all honesty, I hoped I hadn’t. Late to class, caught by surprise,

• 42 •

The Twelve Days of Courtship

and blindsided by the same visceral desire that had beset me on Monday

night, I’d been less than polite. Cold, even. Now I wanted another

chance.

Thankfully, when I rounded the corner she was leaning against

the wall next to the amphitheater door and holding a Starbucks drink

tray. Yesterday, sporting a worn leather jacket that clung to her broad

shoulders and framed her slim torso, she had looked every inch the hot

bartender. Today, dressed in khakis and an orange wool sweater, she

looked insouciantly preppy. She smiled when she saw me, a slow and

easy smile that made me want to twine my fingers in the front of her

shirt and—

Fantastic. Now I was blushing again.

“Hi,” I said, clutching my bag as though it would help me regain

my inner balance.

“Good morning.” She proffered the tray. “How do you feel about

chai lattes? I brought one made with soy, one with skim, and one with

two-percent. Just in case.”

“You went to a lot of effort.” I moved closer. “Tell me, what does

my taking one of these drinks entail?”

“It’s pretty easy,” she said, a teasing lilt to her voice. “All you

have to do is grab whichever one you like best, and then I’ll know what

to bring you tomorrow.”

“And that’s it?” Where, I wondered, was the second request for a

date? How long would she be content to ply me with caffeine before

asking for something in return?

“That’s it.”

I reached for the soy latte. “Will the leftovers be used in other

attempted seductions?”

A flash of hurt crossed her face so quickly that I wasn’t sure I’d

even seen it. In another moment, she was leaning in close to put her

mouth level with my ear. “This is not a seduction,” she murmured. “Not

yet, anyway.”

And then she brushed past me to toss the tray into a nearby

garbage can. The wordless rebuke stung.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That was an ungrateful thing to say.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Valentine’s gaze slid up my body

slowly—a deliberate once-over that she wanted me to notice. “You’re

• 43 •

Breathless

a beautiful woman, Alexa. I’m sure you get plenty of unwanted

attention.”

I foundered, not knowing how to reply. Despite myself, I wanted

her attention. And I was pretty sure she knew it.

“Well…thanks for the chai,” I said lamely.

She tapped the side of her head. “Soy. I’ll remember. See you

tomorrow.”

In three long strides, she was around the corner, leaving me

anticipating tomorrow before today had even really started.

4 Valentine

On Thursday, Alexa was waiting for me, despite the fact that I’d

arrived twenty minutes before her class began. She was dressed as

impeccably as ever, in black slacks and a silver turtleneck sweater that

hugged her breasts and the subtle curves of her waist.

“What took you so long?” She extended her hand expectantly,

a grin playing around the corners of her mouth at my obvious

consternation. Before this moment, I’d been in charge of our little

encounters. Now I felt ambushed.

I kind of liked it.

“Um, hi,” I said, handing over her drink.

“So, here’s how this is going to work from now on,” she announced.

“Whenever I ask you a question, you are obliged to answer. For every

question I ask, you can ask one in return. But I reserve the right not to

say anything.”

“That hardly seems fair. Is that your best offer, Counselor?”

She crossed her arms over her breasts and fixed me with a steely

stare. “Take it or leave it.”

“Okay, okay. Deal.”

“First question. What is your last name?”

“Darrow.” I said it as matter-of-factly as I could, hoping that she

wouldn’t make the connection to my father. That was a conversation for

later in our courtship.

She held out her right hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Valentine

Darrow.”

• 44 •

The Twelve Days of Courtship

I indulged myself by brushing my thumb over her knuckles as I

slid my palm against hers. “Likewise, Alexa Newland.”

All too soon, she pulled away. “Now that we’ve been properly

introduced, your turn.”

There was so much I wanted to know, but I felt certain she

wouldn’t answer most of my burning questions. So I started with

something innocuous. “Where are you from?”

“Eau Claire, Wisconsin.” The words sounded like a challenge, and

I wondered why she was defensive about her hometown. But when I

opened my mouth to ask, she shook her head. “Obey the rules. Second

question. What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“What makes you think I’m not grown up already?”

Her eyes narrowed to green slits. “That was a question, Valentine.

You don’t get to ask one until you answer mine, remember?”

I liked the way she said my name, and the assertive edge to her

words was making my throat dry. “Psychiatrist,” I said, wondering if

she could detect the rasp in my voice. “I have a master’s in counseling

psych already, and I’m going to take the MCAT in a few weeks.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and I leapt at the opportunity. “My

turn. Tell me what you thought I was going to say.”

Instead, she looked down at her watch. The blush had returned to

dust her cheekbones. “I need to get to class.”

I wanted to protest, but she had made the rules and I’d agreed

to them. Whatever it took to hold her interest. Besides, her obvious

chagrin partially answered my question; she’d underestimated me and

was feeling more than a little ashamed of putting me in a box. That

could only work to my advantage.

“All right.” I took a step backward so I wouldn’t reach out and

touch her. It was too soon for that. “Until tomorrow, then.”

5 alexa

I flat-out ran from the bus stop to the entrance of Vanderbilt. The

bus had been late, and now I only had five minutes to get to class.

When Valentine saw me approaching, her frown gave way to a smile

of relief.

• 45 •

Breathless

“What happened?”

I let my fingertips brush hers as I took the cup of chai. “I get to ask

the questions first, remember?”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

I’d thought long and hard about what to ask next, but the

nervousness of her movements prompted a different query. “Were you

worried about me?”

“Yes, of course! I have an overactive imagination, and I kept—”

She cut herself off, suddenly abashed. “Worried. Yes.”

I had to smile at her quick, uncalculated response. “Everything is

fine. Just a late bus.”

“Okay. Good.” She rocked back and forth on her heels. “So. My

turn. Just in case something like this happens again, can I have your

phone number?”

My first inclination was to give in. My second was to keep playing

hard to get. Fortunately, there was a way to compromise.

“No. But give me yours.”

She was rattling off the final digits when Nicole, who always

breezed into class precisely on time, approached. I could sense the

rabid curiosity in her from across the hall.

“I have to go. Thanks for this.” I raised the cup in one hand and

grasped Nicole’s arm with the other to tug her into the lecture hall

before she could say a word.

“Lexie,” she singsonged as soon as we were inside. “Who was

that?”

There was no use in trying to evade her interrogation. Besides, I

was in need of a confidante; this kind of persistent seduction was far

beyond my experience. Nic would be able to advise me on how I should

approach the next step. Valentine wasn’t going to keep bringing me free

lattes indefinitely, after all.

“Her name is Valentine Darrow,” I said as we slid into our seats.

“She was tending bar at the Niagara on Monday.”

Nicole grabbed my arm in a grip Superman would have envied.

“That was Valentine Darrow?”

“Yes. Do you know her?”

Nic dramatically thrust both hands into her perfect hair. “You can

be so dense sometimes!” she hissed. “Think about it—how do you

know that last name?”

• 46 •

The Twelve Days of Courtship

I racked my brains, feeling like an idiot. It wasn’t easy to keep

up with the Who’s Who of New York, especially when Nicole’s guilty

pleasure was socialite gossip, but I did my best to know just enough

that I wouldn’t be labeled an ignorant Wisconsin farm girl.

“The only other Darrow I can think of is the Secretary of the

Treasury,” I finally said, exasperated. “Edward Darrow.”

“Who got his start in the city, of course, and just so happens to

have a daughter named Valentine.” Nicole sat back in her seat, looking

pleased with herself as I grappled with my surprise. Valentine’s father

was a Cabinet member?

“I had no idea. What do you know about her?”

“She’s a lesbian,” said Nicole.

I swallowed a laugh. “Yes, I gathered that.”

“She’s into you.”

“Nic.” I gave her my best serious look. “You did not hear that

through the rumor mill.”

“Oh, sweetie.” She squeezed my shoulder lightly as the professor

stepped up to the podium. “All I had to do was watch her watching you

for five hot seconds.”

6, 7 Valentine

The weekend was taunting me. I’d wanted to sleep in after a long

night’s work at the bar, but my internal alarm clock had woken me at

seven o’clock in the morning. Just in time to make it to Alexa’s class,

chai in hand…if it hadn’t been Saturday. Tired but restless, I’d been

unable to fall back to sleep.

Now I stood at a festive street corner across from Central Park

South, waiting to meet a friend for brunch. A cacophony of Christmas

music blared from nearby storefronts, but I found that for once, I didn’t

mind. The holidays hadn’t felt festive to me for a long time, ever since

my coming out had provoked the ire of my entire extended family.

For the past several years, Christmas had meant protracted meals with

aunts and uncles who ignored me and cousins who never stopped

taking verbal potshots. But now, the music and lights and window

displays made me think of Alexa. I found myself wondering whether

she would go back to Wisconsin for winter break, and what kinds of

• 47 •

Breathless

oddball traditions her family had, and what little thing I could give to

her that might make her laugh.

Later that evening, by the time my shift at the Niagara was

halfway over, I still hadn’t come up with an idea. I had, however, been

propositioned twice—once by an attractive Mrs. Robinson type who

claimed I made the best dirty vodka martini she’d ever tasted, and once

by a punk kid with purple hair who asked me out as I was in the process

of handing her over to the bouncer for trying to use a fake ID.

When I turned back to the bar, Alexa was standing at my end. She

cradled a half-empty glass of wine in her right hand, and I paused to

appreciate how the deep red of her hair was mirrored by the shade of

the liquid.

“You’ve been here for a while,” I accused, gesturing to her drink.

“I’ve been lurking in the shadows.” Her gaze was warm on my

skin, like a caress. “Watching you work. Watching other women desire

you.”

“Have you, now.” The possessive note in her voice thrilled me, but

I kept my tone light. “Did you notice me turning them down, too?”

“Yes. Why did you?”

I decided to lay it all out on the line. “Because I don’t want them.

I want you.”

She set her glass down, but not before I saw it tremble. My words

had affected her. Good.

“What makes you so persistent?”

I leaned on the bar, putting mere inches between my lips and hers.

“I’m just keeping my eye on the prize.”

Her gaze dropped to my mouth, then back to my eyes, and I gripped

the marble to keep myself from leaning in and stealing a kiss. “When

you’re done with your wine,” I said, “let me make you a cocktail. On

the house.”

But she shook her head. “I need to go home. Lots of studying to

do tomorrow, and I should get started early.”

“You don’t slow down, do you?” Her intensity struck a chord in

me. Could she feel it, too—the beginnings of a connection that went far

beyond mere attraction? Or was it all in my head?

“I imagine I take it easy just as often as you do,” she challenged.

We shared a conspiratorial smile then. And I knew I was right

about this. About us.

• 48 •

The Twelve Days of Courtship

8 alexa

Valentine’s entire demeanor brightened when she saw me. Her

enthusiasm was addictive, and I felt myself smile. It seemed impossible

that I had written her off just one week ago for some kind of cad.

“Good morning.” She presented the paper cup to me with a

flourish. “How did your studying go yesterday?”

“Not so fast. My question first, remember?”

“New week, new rules?” She sounded so hopeful.

“Not a chance.” I sipped from my chai as I decided how to phrase

the question that had been killing my concentration all weekend.

“Nicole recognized your name when I told her on Friday. Why haven’t

you ever mentioned your father? Or the rest of your family?”

The light went out of her, then, as if I’d flicked a switch. “I don’t

get along with them,” she said stiffly. “We have extreme differences of

opinion when it comes to politics, as you can imagine.”

“Okay.” I kept my voice soft, regretting my impulse to prod. “I’m

sorry if I reopened an old wound.”

She waved away my apology. “It’s nothing.” Her gaze turned

speculative. “Do you mind if I ask about your family?”

“Oh, there’s not much to tell.” I struggled not to feel self-conscious

as I revealed my humble upbringing. “I’m the middle child of five, we

grew up on a farm in western Wisconsin, and they have no idea why I

escaped to New York at the first opportunity. But they love me, and they

don’t have any bias against my sexuality.”

Valentine nodded, and I was happy to see the hint of a smile return

to her face. “I’d like to know more about them.”

“Tomorrow.” On impulse, I took her hand and squeezed it briefly.

Her fingers were so warm. “See you then.”

9 Valentine

The next morning, Alexa caught me daydreaming. One minute, I

was visualizing a cheery Christmas scene chez Newland—featuring a

large fireplace, comfortable couches, and a brightly decorated tree—

and the next, she was plucking the cup from my grasp.

• 49 •

Breathless

“What were you just thinking of?” she said as she pulled off her

gloves and blew on the tips of her fingers.

I couldn’t resist; I gently gripped her wrist and let my own warm

breath cascade over her skin. A shiver ran through her, but I pretended

not to notice. “I was just picturing what your childhood Christmases

must have been like. Will you go back for winter break?”

“No.” She stuttered on the monosyllable. “I’ll stay here to work on

summer internship applications.”

I began to massage her palm, very lightly, and was rewarded

with a tiny gasp. “I bet you’re applying to all kinds of prestigious

opportunities, aren’t you?”

A single nod. “You’re breaking the rules,” she said when she

found her voice.

I leaned in close and brushed my lips against her cheek. “That,”

I murmured, “is because I’m officially beginning my seduction of you

today.”

She trembled. I could have kissed her properly; she would have let

me. But it would have been too soon. And I had to get this right.

10 alexa

How had a simple kiss on the cheek succeeding in distracting me

for twenty-four consecutive hours? Resolved not to let Valentine get

the upper hand so easily today, I turned the corner briskly…only to find

an unfamiliar, dark-suited man in her place. He held a small envelope

in one hand and a cup in the other.

“Alexa Newland?”

“Yes?”

“Ms. Darrow regrets that she is unable to meet you this morning,”

the man said. “She asked that I pass these along.” After handing over

the chai and the missive, he bade me a “good day” and left.

I opened the envelope slowly, both excited and apprehensive about

its contents. What obligation had called Valentine away so suddenly

that she hadn’t been able to let me know about it beforehand? Or was

she deliberately keeping her distance for some reason?

The card inside had my first name printed on the front. I opened it

to find Come to dinner with me written on the inner left page. The other

• 50 •

The Twelve Days of Courtship

side read Friday night. Out of habit, I flipped the card all the way over.

Say yes was printed on the back.

“Yes,” I whispered.

But since she wasn’t there to hear me, I was going to make her

wait.

11 Valentine

“I’m so sorry about yesterday.” I hurried forward as soon as Alexa

rounded the corner. Anxiety about her state of mind had kept me up half

the night. At first glance, she seemed more curious and concerned than

angry, but I couldn’t yet read her expressions with confidence. “My

father ambushed me into making an appearance for him. I don’t care

what he’s the secretary of, he shouldn’t be able to rope me into service

at the spur of the moment whenever he fucking feels like it!”

Realizing that I was ranting, I took a deep breath and handed over

the chai. “Sorry. Did you get the card?”

“Yes.” She closed the distance between us and reached up to adjust

the collar of my shirt. Even that brief touch made my heart pound.

“And?”

“And yes.”

I blinked down at her. There was a tenderness to her smile, as

though she recognized my emotional fragility. “Yes? To tomorrow?”

“Yes. That’s my answer.” She turned toward the door to her class.

“I want to hear all about how your father dragged you away from me,

but over dinner. Pick me up at eight o’clock?”

I took her free hand in mine and twirled her like a ballroom dancer,

right there in the hallway. She blushed, of course, but her laugh was

genuine.

12 alexa

The phone rang just as I finished zipping up my dress, and I looked

down to see Nicole’s photograph. “I’m putting you on speaker,” I said

by way of greeting, “while I do my makeup.” I had only ten minutes

until Valentine arrived.

• 51 •

Breathless

“Lexie! You must tell me what you’re wearing.”

I picked up my eyeliner. “The strapless one.”

“Oh my God, I knew you would. She’s not going to be able to

keep her hands off you!”

Leaning in toward the mirror, I inspected my work. I always

received compliments on my green eyes, but the liner made them stand

out even more. Good. “I’m not going to sleep with her on the first date,

Nic.” No matter how much I wanted to.

“So you say. But this is Valentine Darrow we’re talking about.

She’s used to getting what she wants. And I know you’ve thought about

it.”

The memory of Valentine as I’d seen her that morning popped

into my head—slouching in jeans and a gray hoodie against the wall,

cupping my drink in both hands as if to absorb its caffeine through the

paper. Her hair was still tousled and her eyelids were at half-mast, and

I had been nearly overwhelmed by the desire to drag her right back into

the bed she had clearly just rolled out of.

I felt my cheeks grow warm and raised the mascara brush, gripping

it like a weapon. I had to keep my wits about me tonight. “I’m not

interested in becoming a notch on someone’s bedpost.”

“The woman has pursued you for weeks,” Nicole protested.

“She’s just fascinated because I’m not swooning all over her like

the usual suspects.” I didn’t really believe that, but I needed to say

the words out loud. I was at serious risk of falling for Valentine after

only two weeks, and I couldn’t afford to drop my guard before our first

date.

Nicole ignored my rationalization. “I’m dying to know where

you’ll be eating. Text me when you get to the restaurant. My God, she

could be taking you anywhere: Per Se, maybe, or even Jean Georges!”

I took a step back from the mirror and smoothed the dress over

my hips, feeling butterflies stir in my stomach. Nic was right. Valentine

probably had the keys to this entire city. I paused, lipstick poised half

an inch from my mouth, suddenly wondering whether she thought my

change of heart might have to do with her father’s money.

And then the doorbell rang.

“Good-bye, Nicole.” Heart pounding, I forced myself to focus.

Lipstick. Shoes. The bell rang again. I grabbed my purse from the

• 52 •

The Twelve Days of Courtship

dresser and locked the door behind me with unsteady hands, then

descended the stairs as quickly as I could manage.

I opened the door. She stood before me in a pinstripe suit, her

golden hair a spiked halo. I caught the faint scent of cologne as she

offered me a single, dusky pink orchid. Behind her, the holiday lights

of a nearby storefront twinkled merrily.

And deep inside I knew that for this Christmas and all the ones

after, she would be mine, and I hers.

• 53 •

rebecca s. buck is from Nottingham, England. Her first novel, Truths,

in which Jen and Aly appeared, was published by Bold Strokes Books

in April 2010. Her second novel, Ghosts of Winter, will be an April

2011 release. Right now she’s trying to work out which of her many

and varied ideas would make the best next novel, and is deciding on

her options for postgraduate study. To find out more visit her website:

www.rebeccasbuck.com.

• 54 •

miss decemBer

reBecca s. Buck

Iheard Aly’s feet on the steps leading from the studio and

darkroom downstairs to our cosy flat above. She’d been in the

studio for several hours. I’d missed her, forcing myself to stay upstairs

and let her get on with her work.

I was slouched on our comfortable sofa with the laptop, entering

details from a pile of invoices into our computerised accounts. Driven

by Aly’s outstanding talents as a photographer, our business was

thriving. Any doubt we’d had about being able to keep up payments

on the photographic studio and flat had disappeared. Taking care of the

running of the business had become a full-time responsibility for me

and, to my surprise, it was the most rewarding work I’d ever done. The

best part was I got to spend hours at a time in Aly’s company. Months

into our relationship we still weren’t bored with each other. That was

something I’d never experienced in a relationship before.

So much had changed. This time last year, the weeks before

Christmas, I’d been lonely and confused, frightened of the world, living

a lie. But summer had brought me Aly, my precious truth, and now I

met the approach of this Christmas with difficult-to-contain excitement.

I had Aly’s gift all taken care of, and from her recent suspicious

behaviour, I sensed she already had mine. Hidden in the bottom of her

closet where she thought I wouldn’t look. I hadn’t looked. Yet.

I heard her footsteps approach. I smiled to myself and tried to look

as though I was still working hard on the accounts. The pressure of her

hands on my shoulders was warm through my T-shirt as she bent to kiss

the back of my neck, just below my left ear. I couldn’t help the shiver

of pleasure that swept through me. She knew exactly how to get the

reactions she desired from my body.

• 55 •

Breathless

“Jen, babe?” she said. I knew there was something she wanted.

“Yes, Aly?” I replied, without turning to look at her. Her fingers

massaged my shoulders slightly.

“Are you busy?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“On what you want.” I turned and grinned at her.

“How do you know I want anything?” She pouted playfully.

“I know you too well.”

“Sometimes I miss the Jen who had no idea what she wanted, you

know?” she said. “It was far easier to have my wicked way with you

then.”

“You want your wicked way with me? Well, you only have to

ask…” I closed the laptop and placed it on the coffee table. I turned

completely so I could look into her eyes as she leaned over the back of

the sofa. I melted into her dark gaze, as I always did. Aly had a habit of

running her hand through her short, jet black hair as she worked, and as

a result, she was decidedly dishevelled. In a loose white shirt over black

jeans tight to her slender figure, she was devastatingly attractive. I felt a

familiar heavy heat developing low in my belly. Fuck, could I ever get

enough of this woman?

She reached out her hand, with a rattle of the silver bangles she

always wore, to stroke my face. She was looking at me contemplatively.

“I always want my wicked way with you. But I have work on my mind

right now.”

“Work?” The anticipation that had been building in my body

subsided abruptly.

“Yes. You know the calendar?”

“Of course I do.” We’d decided Christmas was the perfect time to

put together a calendar of new photographs and market it through our

website. The pictures would be artistic and unusual shots of normal

women made glamorous through Aly’s skill with the camera and the

staging of her photographs.

“My Miss December didn’t show up today.”

“Oh bloody hell,” I said. “I’m sure I told her the right date. It was

Emma, wasn’t it? I’ll phone her right—”

Aly’s rapidly widening grin stopped me mid-sentence. It was hard

• 56 •

Miss December

to think about anything else with those pink lips so close, smiling with

so much intent. “What?”

“You’re so very efficient,” she said, eyes dancing. “I’m glad I

employed you.”

“Well, being as you don’t pay me, I think you’re very lucky.”

“I am very lucky.” Her expression was serious for a moment and

my heart swelled with pleasure. Even after all these months I found

it hard to believe this remarkable woman felt lucky to be with me. I

looked on Aly as the key to my freedom, the woman who had helped me

find myself. That I meant as much to her was incredible and wonderful.

“But I don’t want you to call Emma.”

“Oh? Are you going to ask someone else?”

“Yes.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. I couldn’t decipher her inscrutable

smile. “Who?”

“Well…” She paused and a mischievous look came into her eyes.

“What I was planning for the December shot was a sort of Victorian

Christmas gothic scene.”

“Christmas gothic? Sounds great,” I replied, mildly sarcastic,

dying to know why her eyes were sparkling in that way.

“It will be. And you know it reminded me that there’s a woman I

know who once made her living dressing as a very fetching Victorian.”

She winked at me suggestively.

“You are joking, aren’t you?” I couldn’t help a slight smile. “I was

a museum tour guide in a rubbish fake costume. It certainly doesn’t

qualify me for modelling.”

“Actually I don’t care about your prior experience. And I’m not

joking.” There was a slight challenge in her eyes. And rather a lot of

arousal. Fuck, it was impossible to say no to Aly when she looked like

this. “I want to photograph you.”

“I’ve told you before I don’t like having my photo taken.”

“Oh c’mon, Jen, I’m a photographer, and you’ve never let me take

a picture of you. Besides, it will be artistic.”

“Artistic?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Your calendar is risqué as well as artistic.”

“I wouldn’t want you to expose yourself or anything.” She pressed

• 57 •

Breathless

her warm lips to mine, her hand caressing the back of my neck, pulling

me closer. “That’s for my eyes only. But I really want to do this. Please

give it a go, just for me. I’ll make it worth your while.” Her words were

full of seductive promise.

“And how will you do that?” I’d already given in to her and she

knew it.

“You’ll find out later.” She kissed me again, her tongue pushing

between my lips, a suggestion of what would come later.

“If I don’t like it, we don’t use it.”

“Of course. Come downstairs to my lair.”

She grabbed my hand and we made our way down to the studio.

It was very bright in the high-ceilinged room with its white walls and

screens. Aly led me to where she’d already established the scene for

her December photograph. Her idea was to stage all of her photographs

in front of a plain white backdrop, with the focus on the model and

the few props around her to suggest the theme. I’d seen several of the

earlier months of the year so far and my favourite was July, featuring

a girl with an unexpectedly severe bleached blond haircut and several

earrings in each ear. She was apparently enjoying a summer picnic but

posed with her back to the camera, in a gingham dress evocative of the

fifties, with the back fastening provocatively undone. The focus was

intentionally slightly off. The photos were unusual, sexy, and artistic. I

was so proud of Aly’s talent.

I took in the scene in front of me now. Aly had positioned an

ornate chaise longue, all mahogany carving and crimson upholstery,

in the middle of her bright white backdrop. Next to it was a real

Christmas tree, with glass baubles and authentic wax candles, their

wicks black and already burned down, melted wax dripping onto the

branches. She’d placed several ornately wrapped gifts, decorated with

silk ribbons, around the tree. A pile of traditional paper-chain garlands

and unused ribbons sat on the end of the chaise longue. Everything was

in tones of green, crimson, and gold. The scene was stunning and I was

sure my intrusion would not be an improvement.

“Aly, you need a real model for this.”

“I think you’re missing the point of the whole project, babe.”

“No. I know it’s about using women who aren’t the usual model-

type. But I’ve got nothing distinctive about me at all.” I watched as Aly

ran appraising eyes over my wavy, long, light brown hair and lower to

• 58 •

Miss December

my very ordinary and slightly too curvy figure. Contentment with Aly

had induced me to put several pounds on my hips. She maintained it

was an improvement, while I begged to differ. Now, under her gaze, I

felt sexy.

“You’re perfect, Jen,” she said softly. And I believed her.

“So what am I supposed to wear, then?”

Aly grinned delightedly and picked up a nearby bag to show me

the contents. A flowing skirt of black velvet was very convincingly

Victorian. My eyes widened as she showed me a boned corset in black

satin, laced with a crimson ribbon. She caught my expression.

“Don’t look so shocked. We’re going for Victorian after all.”

“Aly, I—”

“Just try it, for me.”

I sighed and took the clothes. “Okay. But you can go away while

I change. That way you’ll get the full effect.”

“I’m going to see how my latest prints are progressing.” Aly

smiled with obvious pleasure. Oh, she was definitely enjoying this.

As soon as she was gone, I stripped out of my jeans and T-shirt

and donned the costume. The heavy folds of velvet caressed my legs

and draped to the floor. The corset was tight at my waist and had a

complimentary effect on my breasts. I had to admit, I felt attractive. I

smiled as Aly came back into the studio, eyes all over me.

“Will I do?” I asked.

“I don’t think you know how stunning you are.”

I looked at her suspiciously as she came closer. “We’re not enacting

another one of your fantasies are we, my love?”

“You’ve taken over all of my fantasies, Jen.” She clasped my

corseted waist and drew me to her. She kissed my bare shoulders,

running her mouth over my collarbones and the hollow at the base of

my throat. I couldn’t help but moan under the caress of her mouth,

her breath. She pulled back to inspect my appearance. “Just one more

thing.”

She reached into the pocket of her jeans, drew out a small velvet

bag, and handed it to me.“Open it.”

Her words were heavy with tenderness and a trace of uncertainty.

So different from my usually confident and assured Aly. My heart

beat harder in response to the emotion in her voice. Curious, I quickly

released the drawstring and drew out a length of black ribbon, upon

• 59 •

Breathless

which hung an oval cameo. A white relief of a striking woman on a pale

green background.

“It’s beautiful, Aly,” I said breathlessly.

“It’s authentically Victorian. Do you know who it is?” She looked

very pleased with herself.

“No, should I?”

“It’s the Roman goddess of truth, Veritas.”

“Oh…”

“But the Greeks called her Alethea.”

“She’s your namesake?”

Aly shrugged as though she was vaguely embarrassed. “Yes. It’s

an early Christmas present.”

“Thank you so much, my love! It’s perfect.” I hoped she knew

how much it really meant. I kissed her. “Will you fasten it for me?”

Aly took the ribbon and moved behind me. Her warm fingers

brushed against my neck as she fastened the catch. The back of the

cameo was cold against my throat, the ribbon soft and silky. When she

was done, I turned to face her.

“Perfect,” she told me, satisfaction in her voice.

“Now, reluctant though I am to ask, where do you want me?”

“There’s a leading question. On the chaise longue, please.”

I sat tentatively in the middle of her carefully arranged scene.

“Lie back a little more. Against the cushion.”

I giggled and did as she said. She reached for her camera, with its

long lens, and peered through the viewfinder at me.

“Like this?” I asked.

“Perfect.” She put the camera down again and picked up the paper

chain of garlands and ribbons.

“So, what are you going to do with those?” I asked.

“These are what make this more than just a picture of a reclining

woman. These are what make it sexy,” she said. “And different.”

“How do you mean?”

Aly’s dark eyes locked to mine as she leaned over me and pressed

her lips to mine, a harder and more sensual kiss this time. Her strong

fingers ran over my exposed shoulder and down the length of my arm,

to my wrist, which she grasped and raised above my head.

“What are you doing?” I mumbled against her mouth.

“Give me your other hand.”

• 60 •

Miss December

My heart throbbed and my blood raged through my veins, full of

heat and desire, as I did as she asked. With one hand she held my wrists

together as, with the other, she wrapped the paper chain garland around

them. She straightened and looked down at me. I moved my wrists

slightly and the paper rustled.

“Not very effective,” I said, hearing my own arousal in my voice.

“But that’s the point. You don’t want to escape.”

“You mean the woman in your photo doesn’t want to escape.”

Aly grinned. “No, babe, you don’t want to escape.”

I drew a deep breath and tried to regain my composure, a hard

task with her looking at me as though she was ready to consume me.

I gestured with my chin to the length of crimson ribbon she still held.

“And that?”

“Christmas ribbon.” She shrugged as though it was perfectly

innocent.

“And what are you going to do with it?”

“Ah. Let me show you. Close your eyes.”

“What?”

She kissed along my jawline and to my mouth. I inhaled her breath

and my desire intensified. I closed my eyes. Aly wound the thick, silky

ribbon over my eyes and tied it loosely at the back of my head. Not a

particularly effective blindfold—if I opened my eyes I could see plenty.

But that wasn’t the point. The suggestion was what mattered. I kept my

eyes closed and my breathing deepened. Aly ran her hands over my

chest, to the tops of my breasts where they swelled above the corset. I

gasped and pressed my thighs together, hoping to relieve some of the

almost painful need building between them. She reached up to my hair

and I felt her spreading it out over the cushion beneath me.

“Oh God, Aly…”

“I love you, Jen. You’re beautiful. Now, don’t move…” I felt

her pull away from me, heard her footsteps as she went to pick up

her camera. Every movement of the air, every sound was heightened.

I could smell the earthy, fresh scent of the Christmas tree, the bitter

aroma of the burned-out candles. I heard a click as Aly took her first

photograph, and my stomach contracted. The notion of being captured

in this moment, which had become so intense between us, both alarmed

and aroused me. The idea of Aly looking at me through her camera

was, I discovered, more erotic than I would have suspected. I loved to

• 61 •

Breathless

feel her gaze on me, and somehow the camera intensified it. That was

unexpected. Maybe even a little kinky. I’d long stopped worrying about

such things. Aly and I set our own boundaries and delighted in pushing

them.

The camera clicked again and again. Aly said, “Just turn your head

a little bit towards me. And bend your left knee.”

She took more pictures. Then the room fell silent. I heard only

my own breathing, felt only the throb of my pulse and the heavy velvet

against my bare legs.

“Aly?”

“I’m right here,” she said, very close to me. Her mouth found mine

and I met her bruising kiss with equal enthusiasm. She pulled roughly

at the ribbon lacing of the corset, opening it and running her hands over

the skin she exposed. I wanted to touch her and lifted my hands. She

grabbed my wrists, still loosely joined by the paper chain, and pressed

them back into the cushion. I moaned, understanding the mood she was

in and responding to it, as I always did. As her mouth moved lower to

draw my nipple between her lips, grazing my hardening flesh with her

teeth, I kept my hands where they were and arched my back, giving

myself to her.

“Aly…oh…I want…” I groaned, unable to articulate my desires

but safe in the knowledge she knew them. One of her hands came up to

squeeze my breast, pinching my nipple firmly between her thumb and

forefinger, as her other slid lower, pulling at the rich velvet of the skirt

until it was around my waist. She pushed her hand between my thighs,

beneath my underwear, and into my wetness with an aroused moan of

her own.

“Tell me you want me, Jen,” she said breathlessly.

“Can’t you feel it?” I gasped.

“Yes, but tell me.”

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, Aly. You’re my

everything…ah…” She entered me as I finished my sentence, taking

me with the force of her desire. I met her thrust with a return movement

of my hips. She paused, her fingers buried deep inside me. I relished

the intimacy as she covered me with her body and kissed me, her hot

tongue twining with mine.

“I want to see you,” I told her.

She tore the ribbon away from my eyes. My gaze met hers. I saw

• 62 •

Miss December

her arousal in her dilated pupils and knowing I was the cause sent a

whole new wave of desire pulsing through me. I was intoxicated by my

power to affect her so profoundly.

She moved her fingers inside me slightly. I breathed deeper and

had to touch her. I wrenched my hands free of the paper garlands in one

quick movement and began to loosen the buttons of her shirt. Her eyes

flashed at my sudden reassertion of my needs. Between us we removed

her shirt and I ran my fingers over her small, perfect breasts, loving the

sensation of her nipples hardening beneath my touch.

“Watch me now,” she whispered. Slowly, she slid lower. Easing

her fingers out of me, she pulled my underwear down my legs quickly.

Teasing, I kept my knees close together. She put her hands on the tender

insides of my thighs and pushed, compelling me to open for her. I let

her have her way, my eyes fixed on her face, seeing her desire as her

gaze fell upon me. Slowly, she moved closer and closer.

“Oh, fuck, Aly…” I whimpered as her breath teased my hot, wet

flesh. I pushed towards her and she gripped my hips, holding me down.

I groaned, keeping my eyes on her as she pressed her mouth to me at

last. The first sweep of her hot, strong tongue sent an electric shock

through my whole body. It was almost too powerful and I tried to

pull back. She moved with me and relentlessly massaged me with her

lips and tongue. I moaned again. When the movements of her tongue

became lighter, teasing, I tried to raise myself to her again but she

pressed down, stopping me. I had no choice but to give in to her control

of my pleasure, to her merciless desires. I looked down over my body

and watched her intimate kisses until I could bear it no longer, then

tipped my head back and gave myself up to it.

She was consuming me, possessing me—giving everything to me.

She sucked my hardened flesh between her lips, teasing with her teeth,

as she pushed three fingers into me. I knew she could feel how close

to the edge I was, the way my body welcomed her inside as my spread

thighs trembled. She curled her fingers around expertly and I gave way

suddenly to a shuddering climax, helpless to repress my throaty cry of

release.

I was still sweating and panting as she moved up to lie on top

of me, her mouth finding mine. I tasted my own arousal in her kiss. I

wrapped limp arms around her, enjoying the crush of her breasts against

mine.

• 63 •

Breathless

When I could trust my voice again, I smiled and said, “I hope that

isn’t the way you thank all your models.”

“Only the very sexy ones,” she replied.

“Should I feel taken advantage of?”

“Absolutely.”

I laughed. Aly was so perfect. Nothing was ever so intense there

wasn’t an element of fun involved. I loved her relaxed humour.

“How were the photos?”

“Exactly what I wanted.”

“You’re biased, of course.”

“Not so biased I don’t know a good photo. You’re the perfect Miss

December. And I love the idea of all the women who buy the calendar

looking at your photo and wondering who you are. Maybe wanting you.

But you’re all mine.”

“Is your possessive streak coming out again, my love?” I teased.

“I can’t help it. You mean so much to me, Jen.” Her eyes were

intense briefly. These moments of sudden deep emotion were common

with Aly, but moved me every time.

“You know you’re every bit as important to me. This is going to

be the best Christmas of my life. The first honest Christmas of my life.

It’s because of you, Aly.”

“It’s not all about me, Jen. I just helped.”

“More than you know. If you’d told me last Christmas I’d have

been celebrating this year like this, I’d never have believed you.” I

smiled happily.

“I guess life’s full of good surprises,” Aly replied, stroking my

hair. “And we’re going to have a brilliant new year.”

“Yes, we are. You know you’ve made me believe in fate?”

“I think things turn out the way they’re meant to, and we were

meant to find each other.” She laughed, lightening the mood once more.

“So, you like your present?”

“I adore it.” I pressed my lips to hers. Aly writhed against me and I

could feel her temperature start to soar. I knew she wanted more. So did

I. “In fact, I think I need to show you how much I love it. How much

I love you.”

I slid out from underneath her and rose to my feet. I unfastened the

skirt and let it slide into a velvet puddle at my feet so I wore nothing but

Aly’s cameo. She sat upright and I watched her eyes roaming over my

• 64 •

Miss December

naked body as I reached for her waist and unfastened her jeans, tight

against her toned stomach. I pulled them lower, running my fingers

over the tattoo on her hip, and lower still, until she was alluringly naked

in front of me.

I dropped to my knees, catching the scent of her arousal. She

parted her thighs and ran her fingers through my hair. “I love you, Jen,”

she murmured as I took her in my mouth, determined to demonstrate

how powerfully I felt the same way. She was my love, my life, my

truth. And she tasted so fucking good, I could never have enough.

• 65 •

erin duTTOn lives near Nashville, Tennessee, with her amazing partner.

She enjoys writing stories that reflect the strength of love, both within a

relationship and within family. She has written six previous romances,

the most recent of which is A Perfect Match. The characters from

“Homemade” first appeared in A Place to Rest. For more information

about Erin and her work, visit www.erindutton.com.

• 66 •

homemade

erin dutton

Ithought we weren’t working today,” Sawyer Drake called as

she strode through the swinging door that divided the dining

room of Drake’s restaurant from the kitchen.

“You’re here, too.” Jori didn’t miss a stroke in the dough she

mixed in a silver bowl on the counter in front of her.

“I’m looking for you.”

“Sure. But I’ve been in the kitchen—I’m always in the kitchen.

You’ve been here for over an hour and this is the first time you’ve come

in here looking for me.”

“You just can’t stay away. I only stopped in on my way to pick

you up.”

“You weren’t supposed to pick me up for another two hours,

anyway.” Jori purposely kept her tone light. They were both here for

the same reason, their dedication to Drake’s. And given that Sawyer

had finally found a career that inspired such devotion, Jori would never

make her feel guilty for it.

Sawyer moved behind Jori and wrapped her arms around her

waist. “You’re supposed to be all mine today.”

The familiar feel of Sawyer’s mouth against the side of Jori’s neck

raised goose bumps on her arms. After six months, she still felt a thrill

every time Sawyer touched her, and she still would after six years or

sixty. Conscious of the other chefs working nearby, Jori nudged Sawyer

gently in the ribs with her elbow and Sawyer released her.

“I came in to check on tonight’s desserts—”

“Babe, that’s why you have an assistant.”

As the head pastry chef, Jori not only planned the dessert menu

• 67 •

Breathless

but also made most of them herself. She’d only started handing more

responsibility over to her assistant since she and Sawyer started dating.

They made it a point to spend one night a week away from the restaurant,

and one whole day at least every other weekend. Today was supposed

to be that day.

“Anyway, Erica caught me. Now I’ve got to make two dozen

Christmas sugar cookies.”

“What? Where is she?” Sawyer’s tone made it clear that her sister

and co-manager had overstepped by commandeering Jori.

“She is right here,” Erica said as she entered from the hallway that

led to her office. “Do you have something to say?”

Sawyer stepped closer to Erica as if squaring off. “You’ve got Jori

baking cookies on her day off. This couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“No. It couldn’t. And I need her to deliver them when she’s

done.”

“We don’t even do delivery. What the hell is going on?”

“Sawyer, it’s no big deal.” Jori turned the dough onto the counter

in front of her and picked up a rolling pin.

After the birth of Erica’s daughter, she and Sawyer had put aside

their sibling tension and agreed to run the family restaurant together. But

they still had the occasional power struggle, and Jori hated being in the

middle of them. She wanted to side with Sawyer, stand by her woman

and all. But she knew how stubborn Sawyer could be and she often

thought the solution to Sawyer and Erica’s problems was somewhere

in the middle. If they could both just give a little ground, they might

find it, too.

“Yes. It is.” Sawyer planted her hands on her hips. “This is the

kind of stuff I should know about, Erica. You’re always going to think

of yourself as sole manager.”

“Get over yourself, Sawyer. This was a last-minute order from a

very important customer. I’ve already discussed it with Jori and she

agreed to make the delivery.” Erica walked out without waiting for a

response.

“I hate it when she does that,” Sawyer grumbled. “You agreed to

this?”

“I thought I could be done with them and home in time to meet

you. This is the last batch. If you give me a hand we’ll be done in no

time.” Jori tossed a cookie cutter at Sawyer.

• 68 •

Homemade

Sawyer glanced at it. “Reindeer?”

Jori shrugged. “The customer requested festive and kid-

appropriate.” Jori nodded toward the cookies she’d already finished,

lined up on sheets of waxed paper on the counter. “You can either box

those up or cut more out of this dough.”

“I got the dough.” Sawyer twirled the cookie cutter around her

index finger and moved close to Jori. She bumped her hip lightly against

Jori’s. “You take the boring job.”

Jori smiled and moved aside. She unfolded a white cardboard

box and carefully filled it with the brightly decorated assortment of

snowmen and Christmas trees. As she worked she watched Sawyer

press out the reindeer shapes. Sawyer had once told her that she liked to

watch Jori work—specifically her hands. Jori had never thought there

was anything special about her hands, but every now and again she

caught herself watching Sawyer’s hands and she totally got it. Sawyer’s

hands weren’t as quick as Jori’s in the kitchen, but then again Jori had

hours more practice.

Besides, she didn’t think about cooking while watching Sawyer’s

hands; instead she was enveloped in memories of Sawyer’s touch.

Whether Sawyer held her tenderly or stroked her fervently, the

undercurrent of her love was always present.

“Hey, I thought you were supposed to be boxing cookies?”

Jori jerked her eyes away from Sawyer’s hands and fumbled to

resume packing up the cookies.

“While you were over there daydreaming, I finished.” Sawyer

held up a baking sheet. “Are these ready for the oven?”

“I wasn’t daydreaming.” Jori sprinkled a pinch of fine sugar on

top of each cookie.

Sawyer leaned close enough to whisper in Jori’s ear. “You were.

And I know exactly what you were thinking about. You want me to

touch you.”

Jori trembled.

“You want me to take you someplace private and—” Sawyer

laughed softly and her breath tickled Jori’s skin. “But first, we apparently

have to deliver these cookies.”

When Sawyer moved away to put the tray in the oven, Jori pulled

in a deep breath and took a second to enjoy the arousal singing through

her body.

• 69 •

Breathless

v

“I really didn’t think this would take very long,” Jori said as

Sawyer put the bakery boxes in the trunk of her Solara. “I’m sorry.

I’ve spent most of our day on this.” Jori slid into the passenger seat of

the convertible and checked the clock on the console. It was after two

o’clock.

She studied Sawyer, trying to figure out her mood. Sawyer had

gotten quiet as they’d packed up the cookies and headed out to the

car, but she seemed more nervous than aggravated. “Do you have the

address Erica gave us?”

“Yes.” With a small smile, Sawyer reached across the console and

covered Jori’s hand. “It’s only a few minutes away.”

Jori relaxed as Sawyer’s skin warmed hers. She squeezed Sawyer’s

hand and felt the answering pressure against her fingers. A couple

minutes outside of downtown, they navigated through an older, well-

established neighborhood. Instead of the tiny lots and identical rows

of houses common to most modern subdivisions, these streets fronted

large lawns and homes with character and individual style.

“I like this area,” Jori said. As a kid in foster care, she’d often

imagined what it must be like to grow up in a house like these.

“I know.” Sawyer smiled. “You say that every time we drive

through here.”

Sawyer turned into a driveway. Two large trees stretched bare

limbs over the front yard and cast craggy shadows over a quaint stone

house. Jori checked the number on the mailbox again.

“Are you sure this is it?”

“Yep. What? You don’t like it?” Sawyer popped the trunk release

and got out of the car.

“Actually, I do. It’s very cute, just not what I expected. I thought

someone who merited ‘very important’ status with Erica would live

someplace a bit more extravagant.”

“Yeah, well, every now and again Erica still surprises me, too.”

Carrying the boxes of cookies, Sawyer headed toward the house.

Jori caught up and, as they walked, Sawyer put a hand in the small

of her back. Jori smiled at the tender gesture. When Sawyer was a little

• 70 •

Homemade

possessive like this, she felt safe and loved, though she would never

admit it to anyone but Sawyer.

They climbed the three steps to the porch and Jori rang the

doorbell. When no one responded, she rang again.

“Surely Erica let them know to expect us.” Trying another tactic,

Jori knocked on the deeply stained wooden door.

“Hm. Let’s see.” Sawyer handed Jori the boxes and turned the

knob.

“Yeah, okay. We’ll just let ourselves in.”

The door swung open. When Sawyer stepped forward, Jori stared

at her in disbelief. She was actually going to go in.

“Sawyer!” Jori bobbled the boxes as she tried to grab Sawyer’s

arm.

“Whoa. Careful. I’m not going back to the restaurant to make

more.” Sawyer swept the cookies from her hands and entered the house.

“Maybe we’ll just leave them on the counter.”

“Sawyer,” Jori called, but Sawyer didn’t stop. She glanced around

and, seeing no witnesses, followed Sawyer inside. Was this really a

crime if they had no sinister intent?

The foyer opened to a spacious living room—an empty living

room. Sunlight from a large window reflected off the dark hardwood

floors unobscured by furniture. A pristine white mantel surrounded the

fireplace slanted into the far corner. The broad archways separating the

various rooms were decorated with the ornate woodwork of the 1940s.

“Check out this yard.” Sawyer had set the boxes down somewhere

and now looked out the window at the back of the house.

Confused, Jori crossed to her. “We shouldn’t be in here. We’ve

obviously got the wrong address.”

“Maybe. But it’s clearly vacant. Since we’re here, let’s explore a

little.” Sawyer’s eyes sparkled with mischief. She took Jori’s hand and

led her toward the hallway.

“I don’t think we should.”

“Who’s going to know?”

“The owner, or a realtor maybe. If we get caught.”

Sawyer paused and pulled Jori close, grasping her hips. “Be brave

with me. We’re alone.”

She pressed her lips to Jori’s, silencing the protest she’d been about

• 71 •

Breathless

to offer. Sawyer kissed her aggressively, as if she’d been waiting all day

and just realized how much she wanted it. Jori followed her, making

the transition from teasing to passion quickly. She sucked Sawyer’s

lower lip. Sawyer squeezed her waist and she threaded her hands into

Sawyer’s hair, tugging her close.

When Sawyer eased back, they were both panting a little. “Let’s

check out the rest of the house.” She grabbed Jori’s hand again.

They went down the hall, and Jori glimpsed two empty bedrooms

and a bathroom as they passed. When they reached a closed door,

Sawyer smiled, then swung open the door and moved aside. Jori took

two steps inside and stopped.

Closed curtains darkened the room and a floor lamp in the corner

cast a warm glow. Unlike the rest of the house, the bedroom was

completely furnished. Jori immediately recognized the cherry platform

bed and matching dresser. She’d helped pick them out for Sawyer’s

apartment only a few months ago. The simple pattern of the sage and

ivory color-block comforter complemented the clean lines Sawyer

favored.

“Sawyer?” Jori said. “What is this?”

When Sawyer said nothing, only watched her with a faint smile,

she crossed to the dresser and leaned to look at a framed photo of the

two of them. Sawyer’s arms came around her waist, and Sawyer rested

both hands high on Jori’s stomach.

“Do you like the house?” Sawyer’s cheek brushed Jori’s.

“Yes. Are you moving?”

“Maybe. Only if you are.”

Turning, Jori draped her arms against Sawyer’s shoulders. “What

are you saying?”

“I haven’t bought the house yet. The realtor is a friend and she

let me move a few things in to surprise you.” Sawyer nodded toward

the bed behind her. “But if you don’t love it, we can keep looking.”

She feathered her fingers down to cradle Jori’s jaw. “I love you, Jori.

You anchor me in ways that no one ever has. When we’re apart, I can’t

wait to see you again. I want to buy a house with you and build a life

together.”

They’d been splitting their time between Sawyer’s apartment

and Jori’s for months and rarely spent a night apart anyway. In the

beginning Jori had occasionally worried that Sawyer, habitually unable

• 72 •

Homemade

to commit, would become bored or restless. But eventually Sawyer had

put her fears to rest and Jori now trusted her completely.

Jori’s chest ached as love flooded her. Despite the progress they’d

made, she knew this was still a big step for Sawyer. She had just

made the biggest commitment of her life and Jori didn’t feel a hint of

hesitation from her.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Sawyer asked.

“Yes.” Jori took Sawyer’s face in her hands. “Yes, I will move in

with you.”

“Good.”

“So, hold on, let me get this straight, there’s no very important

customer.”

“Um, no, there isn’t. It was my plan to get you here, and Erica

played along.” Sawyer tempered her words with a lopsided smile that

she had to know always melted Jori’s resolve.

“I baked all of those cookies for nothing.”

“I wouldn’t waste perfectly good cookies. We’ll drop them by the

domestic violence shelter later, an early Christmas gift for the women

and children.”

“That sounds nice.” Jori had just gotten the only gift she needed

this season.

Sawyer slid her hand to the collar of Jori’s shirt and slipped the

top button free, and then the one below it. Jori watched her fingers work

downward until the final button was undone.

“What are you doing?”

“Hmm. Well, I came into this bedroom with two goals. The first

was getting you to move in with me.” Sawyer pushed Jori’s shirt off her

shoulders and it slid down her arms and to the floor.

“And the second?”

Sawyer kissed the sensitive skin just below Jori’s ear. “The

second,” she whispered in Jori’s ear, “I’ll have to show you.”

Sawyer unclasped Jori’s bra and gently removed it. She touched

Jori’s breast reverently, cupping it in one hand, then stroking her

tightening nipple. Jori arched into her touch and sighed. She watched

Sawyer’s eyes trace a path over her skin, enjoying the arousal flashing

across her expression and darkening her brown eyes almost to black in

the shadowed room.

While removing the rest of Jori’s clothes, Sawyer led her to the

• 73 •

Breathless

bed, both of them nearly stumbling over her jeans when they clung

stubbornly to her legs. She pushed back the sheets and guided Jori

down. After she stripped off her own clothes, Sawyer stretched out next

to Jori.

“I want to go slow. I always want to go slow with you, but I can

never seem to help myself.”

“You know by now I don’t always need slow.” Remembering one

particular time that Sawyer had nearly taken her on the stairs outside

Erica’s apartment, Jori felt her body flush. She pulled Sawyer on top of

her and slipped a knee between Sawyer’s. When Sawyer rose up, she

pushed her thigh higher, keeping pressure against Sawyer’s center.

Sawyer kissed her, softly at first, leading her, then pulling away

just enough to make sure Jori tried to follow before thrusting her

tongue inside. Jori moaned, part arousal, part frustration as Sawyer

maintained the thread of control. Sawyer drove her fingers into Jori’s

hair, and when Jori lifted her thigh again, Sawyer tightened her grip.

Jori sucked in her breath as the sharp tug against the back of her head

drove her to the edge of pain and pleasure.

Sawyer moved down Jori’s body, dropping kisses between her

breasts and over the slope of her belly. She circled her fingers around

Jori’s ankle, then trailed her fingernails up the back of Jori’s calf.

“Sawyer, you have to touch me.” Jori shivered as Sawyer’s other

hand traced up her leg.

Resting her weight on her arms, Sawyer looked up at Jori.

Something about seeing Sawyer this way—supplicant, yet powerful, her

shoulders bowed and the muscles in her arm flexing as they supported

her—something about this always made Jori want her even more.

“I love you,” Jori said.

Lowering herself to the vee of Jori’s legs, Sawyer finally touched

her, first with one finger, and then with her mouth. She covered Jori,

and her tongue slid through wet folds, then withdrew as she drew Jori’s

clit between her lips.

Jori moaned as pleasure speared through her, her body tightening

like a bowstring desperately needing to release a quivering arrow. “Oh,

God, I love it when you suck me.”

Jori’s words seemed to propel Sawyer as she devoured her,

alternately sucking and licking, never quite giving her enough of one

• 74 •

Homemade

before switching. Jori grabbed the back of Sawyer’s head as she thrust

against her mouth.

“Please, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Jori chanted when

she was too close to go back—too close to let Sawyer shift gears on

her again. Sawyer didn’t stop, she never stopped giving Jori what she

needed. And seconds later, when Jori trembled and bucked beneath her,

Sawyer held on until Jori’s pleasure ebbed into gentle waves.

Sawyer crawled up the bed and collapsed next to Jori, draping an

arm across her stomach. “I suppose now we have to buy the place.”

Jori smiled. “Of course. You’ve christened it. It’s ours.”

Sawyer rose up on one elbow, her gaze on Jori’s possessive and

passionate. “Say it again.”

“It’s ours.”

• 75 •

caTe culPePPer grew up among the luminarias and enchiladas of

southern New Mexico. She returns to her Southwest roots in her newest

novel, River Walker, her sixth title with Bold Strokes Books. She is

also author of the four books of the Tristaine series and Fireside. Cate

is a 2005 and 2007 Golden Crown Literary Award winner in the Sci-Fi/

Fantasy category, and a 2008 recipient of the Alice B. Toklas Readers’

Choice Award. She now resides in the Pacific Northwest, where she

supervises a residential program for homeless young gay adults, and

haunts Taco Bell.

“Luminaria Light” features characters from River Walker.

• 76 •

luminaria light

cate culPePPer

The keening wail of a lost infant instinctively captures the

immediate attention of any human heart. Grady Wrenn didn’t

consider her own heart particularly maternal, but a baby was lost out

there in the storm, and she had to find it before it died.

She power-kicked through another bank of sodden snow, her face

stinging from the wind and icy pellets of the current flurry. She couldn’t

see more than a few feet through the stark whiteness, which was broken

only by the cruel grays and browns of dead trees and stones. The infant

was barely audible now, its whimpers weakening in the force of the

wind. Lunging toward the sound, she tried to contain the gasping in her

lungs lest she miss it. The baby’s sobs were breathless and fading.

“Elena!” Calling that name in dire circumstances came naturally

to her. “Elena, help me!”

But she was alone.

Grady was the only hope this baby had, her only chance of survival.

The weak cry drifted to her again, this time from the opposite direction.

She staggered toward it, sobbing now herself.

“Grady.” The voice was brushed satin, calm and low and dear—

Elena’s voice, calling Grady up into the cold and implacable sky.

“Open your eyes, querida.”

Grady grasped a pair of familiar arms and felt herself pulled

upright on the deep sofa. Cool hands cradled her face. Her eyelids felt

glued shut, but she wanted badly to see Elena right now. She forced her

eyes open and her lover’s pale face, framed in curling dark hair, swam

into view. Elena’s gentle brown eyes watched her intently.

“And where have you been?” Elena swept Grady’s hair off her

sweat-beaded forehead. “You went very far away, I think.”

Elena was a curandera, a healer who dealt with the spirit world,

• 77 •

Breathless

and she took dream-travel seriously. She was also a nurse, and she

measured Grady’s pulse at the throat with clinical practicality. “Grady?

Can you hear me? You’re scaring me a little here.”

Grady understood Elena’s worry. She was sure the dumb shock

that infused her dream still fogged her features—she couldn’t seem to

shake the daze. Elena’s expression deepened into real concern before

she could string words together.

“Okay,” Grady gasped. “That was a little intense.”

“I see that it was.” Elena frowned. “Your heart is still racing.”

Grady swung her legs over the cushions, but Elena held her arms.

“I don’t think you should get up just yet.” She was a good foot shorter

than Grady, but she was strong.

Elena was strong, but Grady was embarrassed, or she was getting

there fast. She patted Elena’s hand until it loosened from her forearm.

“It’s okay, I’m back. I’m okay.”

“All right. I’ll believe you.” Elena let her go, still studying her

with a worried frown. “This dream comes at a strange time, mi amiga.

I don’t think I’ve ever known you to fall asleep so early.”

“It’s still Christmas Eve, right?” Details were surfacing through

the murk. She had fallen asleep on the sofa in Elena’s herb shop below

the rooms Elena shared with her mother on the second floor. She

was surprised she had dozed off, too—she had never been especially

comfortable sleeping in Elena’s home, in close proximity to Inez

Montalvo. She liked Elena’s mother, she had even grown to love the

cantankerous bat, but the woman was not exactly a relaxing presence.

“Sí, it’s still Christmas Eve. About nine o’clock.” Elena took

Grady’s pulse again and seemed satisfied. “Are you going to tell me

about this dream?”

Grady shrugged, finding comfort in nonchalance, feigned or not.

“A newborn lost in a blizzard in the woods. I could hear it, but I couldn’t

find it.”

“I see.” Elena folded her hands in her lap and watched her for an

inordinately long time. “A newborn child?”

“Right.” Grady rubbed her forehead, glad to silence the lingering

echoes of those pitiful cries. “Probably a pretty common anxiety dream.

Possibly brought on by the fact that I still don’t know what to get you

for Christmas, might I add.”

• 78 •

Luminaria Light

“I’m not so sure this was a common dream.” Unsurprisingly, Elena

didn’t seem ready to let the topic go. “I think we should take a walk.”

Grady blinked at her. “Right now?”

“Yes, if you’re feeling yourself again.”

She was, more or less. Her knees only shook for a moment when

she rose. Walking with Elena through the streets of Old Mesilla on

Christmas Eve would be no hardship, but Elena’s insistence puzzled

her. “Is there a reason we’re taking a walk?”

“Well, this baby is obviously not in here, Grady.” Elena slung a

heavy shawl over her shoulders, serene in the odd logic of curanderas.

“Take your scarf, it’s cold out.”

That much was evident as they stepped out onto the boardwalk

fronting Elena’s shop. It was one of southern New Mexico’s best brands

of crystalline winter nights, crisp and frosty. Elena’s breath misted from

her full lips, but the cold wasn’t unbearable. Grady took Elena’s elbow

as they stepped down off the boardwalk, then flinched at the noisy clack

of shutters opening above them.

“Elenita?” Inez purred from the window.

“Sí, Mamá?”

“Tell the heathen gringa down there to bring me back my Pepsi.

There were three left in this case, now there are only two.”

“I didn’t take your Pepsi, Inez,” Grady called pleasantly.

“Well, then bring me back my ungrateful daughter . ” Inez perched

her elbows on the windowsill and drew hard on her cigarette, wincing

down at them through the smoke. “What kind of lousy daughter leaves

her poor widowed madre all alone on Christmas Eve?”

“My father is alive and well in El Paso, Mamá.” Elena adjusted

her shawl on her shoulders, unperturbed. “And we’ll only be gone a

short while.”

“Did you turn off the gas in the kitchen?” Inez yelled after them.

“The last time the gringa was here, she left on a burner and almost

gassed me to death!”

“That wasn’t Grady, that was me,” Elena called back, taking

Grady’s arm as they walked down the street. “And we have an electric

stove. Cálmate, Mamá. We’ll see you soon.”

This was Grady’s first Christmas in New Mexico, and apparently

the holiday was a community event. The narrow roads that ran through

• 79 •

Breathless

Mesilla were beginning to fill with couples walking hand in hand,

scrambling children, and shuffling seniors. She heard laughter and

splashes of Spanish in the cold air. Elena slid her arm free and stepped

further away. Grady looked at her regretfully, and Elena shrugged with

an answering sadness. Mesilla was slowly catching up with the rest

of the nation, but many Christmases would have to pass before two

women could stroll its streets openly as a couple.

Grady was drawn from her glum contemplation of social injustice

by the pleasures of watching tradition come alive around her. A cultural

anthropologist, she was familiar with Hispanic folklore, but it was still

fun to see the luminarias—small brown bags, each bearing a single

votive candle weighted by sand—being set along the main streets leading

to San Albino Church. This was a major project, involving dozens of

volunteer groups. The honor of lighting the candles was reserved for

the churchgoing teenagers of the village. When all the lanterns were

laid and lit, the electric light in the area would be darkened, and Mesilla

Plaza would glow with thousands of twinkling candle flames.

“The luminarias light the path leading to Midnight Mass, right?”

Grady nudged Elena aside as another pickup truck rolled slowly by,

carrying more pallets of filled paper bags. “The candles are supposed to

guide parishioners to their spiritual home?”

“Yes, but that’s not all.” Elena waved at a large woman across the

street, who called a friendly greeting. “We still lay luminarias up our

sidewalks, too, right to our front doors. They’re also meant to lead the

infant Christ Child to our homes.”

“Yeesh.”

“Yeesh?” Elena repeated.

“Well.” Grady frowned. “I respect religious tradition, but all I can

picture tonight is a naked, bawling baby crawling on its hands and knees

up a cold sidewalk trying to find a house, knocking over luminarias as

it goes…”

Elena laughed, a musical sound. “Mamá is right, Dr. Wrenn, you

are a heathen. Ay, look.”

Grady felt the first cold touch of lace on her cheek before she

followed Elena’s gaze to the clouded sky. She heard a few delighted

yelps from a group up ahead. Snow wasn’t common in southern New

Mexico, and this light dusting was nicely timed.

• 80 •

Luminaria Light

“I hope it sticks.” Elena caught a flake on her tongue. “The kids

around here would be so jazzed to wake up to snow on Christmas

morning.”

The simple happiness on Elena’s face made Grady jam her fists in

her coat pockets to keep from taking her hand. They wandered toward

the Plaza. Grady was content to enjoy the night and leave images of cold

babies in snowstorms, or any babies of any kind, well behind them.

“And I have finally decided.” Elena walked with her hands clasped

behind her, her eyes on the ground, a mysterious smile on her lips.

“You have decided…?”

“What I want for my Christmas gift. I want us to have a baby.”

Elena walked on for several steps before realizing she was alone and

turning back. “Cálmate, querida,” she called. “I don’t mean this

Christmas.”

“Good.” Grady folded her arms against a sudden chill. “I couldn’t

possibly have a baby gift-wrapped by morning.”

Elena came back to her and touched her arm. “All I’m asking for

now is your faith in this matter, Grady. A promise between us, that we’ll

raise a child together.”

“Well, you and I have talked about family.” Grady glanced over

her shoulder to be sure they wouldn’t be overheard. “We both want the

possibility of kids, sometime in the future.”

“And how distant must this future be?” A dimple appeared in

Elena’s cheek. “Your womb is getting no younger, Professor Gringa.”

“Me?”

“Grady, you know I can’t.” Elena’s smile faltered. “If we’re to

have a child from one of us, it will have to be you.”

“Me.” Grady rubbed the back of her neck. “Elena, we’ve talked

about taking in foster kids, or adopting someday, and we’re nowhere

near ready for that. Now you want me to consider getting pregnant,

some year soon?”

“Some year soon.” Elena nodded. “That’s the gift I’m hoping

for. And I know it’s an enormous thing to ask, Grady. I’ll honor your

decision entirely if you don’t want this. We can still look into fostering,

adoption—”

“Or we could start out with a goldfish. Or an iguana.” Grady walked

on, her shoulders hunched. She wasn’t sure why this conversation

• 81 •

Breathless

rattled her so. Elena wasn’t suggesting they break into a sperm bank

tonight. That damn dream must still be getting to her. Well, that and the

sudden and unexpected prospect of grueling labor and episiotomies.

The Plaza awakened around them. Streams of flickering lights

came alive, candle by candle, leading toward the dignified edifice of

San Albino. Snowflakes fell more heavily now, a drifting curtain of

white, lending the scene a timeless charm.

“Feliz Navidad.” An older man with a broad smile waited at the

corner, balancing a round tray of paper cups that steamed in the brisk

night air. He extended the tray gallantly to Grady and Elena, and they

accepted cups of fragrant hot cider, sweetened with cinnamon sticks.

“Pass by this way again, Señorita Montalvo,” he said. “My wife is

bringing fresh biscochitos soon.”

“Gracias, Señor Paz.” Elena patted his frail arm as they went

on. Grady had noted much of Mesilla addressed Elena with this same

friendly courtesy. This community respected their curandera as an

ethical and highly effective healer. Grady only wished the village where

Elena was born and grew up was more willing to truly know her.

Elena walked silently beside her, cupping her fingers over her

steaming drink to warm them.

“Elena, if we have a child, where will we raise it?”

“Well, in Mesilla.” Elena’s smile was hopeful. “Wouldn’t we?

My mother would welcome a grandchild, even one who came to us

through…untraditional means.”

“Okay, but would Mesilla welcome me, as this kid’s parent?”

Grady spoke gently. “I can’t move in with you, we can’t live openly

here as a family. So I’d sleep in my lousy condo in Las Cruces, then

try to catch a few hours with you both during the day? I don’t want to

hide, Elena.”

“No. Of course you don’t.” Elena rested her head very briefly on

Grady’s shoulder.

They walked together silently, and Grady’s heart ached at the new

slump in Elena’s shoulders. They had circled this topic before, more

than once. Long before the subject of babies came up, Grady knew

what she wanted. She believed Elena wanted it, too. It was past time

they lived together, shared a home. She couldn’t resist giving logic one

more try.

• 82 •

Luminaria Light

“Las Cruces is a big city compared to Mesilla, much more open.

And I’ve got a big condo in this big city.”

“I know.”

“Elena, if you moved in with me, she would still see you almost

every day. You’d still spend more than thirty hours a week in your shop,

right downstairs.”

“Yes.”

“Cruces is within walking distance of Mesilla. It’s not like we

couldn’t get to Inez quickly if she needed us.”

“I know.”

“And there’s really nothing wrong with your mother, physically.

She’s not elderly, or medically frail, or disabled. She’s capable of taking

care of herself.”

“Grady, she needs me. She gets frightened sometimes.”

“Elena, the woman has a loaded Remington pump-action shotgun

under her bed. I should know, she tried to shoot me with it. Inez is far

from helpless, believe me.”

“I didn’t say she was helpless, I said she was afraid.” Elena sighed.

“You’ve known this about her, as long as you’ve known me. I can’t

heal whatever is broken inside my mother that makes her so fearful.

She feels safer when I’m near, and a daughter should look after her

mother.”

“For the next forty years?” Grady softened her tone. “Elena, when

will it be your turn? When do you get to have a life?”

“I wish I could help you understand, Grady. I grew up so differently

than you.” Elena frowned at the ground passing beneath their feet, as if

hoping to read words there. “I know what you’re saying is important,

and I worry about these things, too. I don’t have all of the answers

tonight. I just thought if we made a commitment to each other now,

about this child…it would be a promise to work together, to find a way.

And it would say something about us.”

“About us?” Grady wished Elena would lift her head. She thought

she heard tears in her voice.

“It would say what we have between us is strong enough to

overcome all of these problems. That we both believe that.”

“Elena.” Grady turned and stood directly in front of her. If ever

there was a moment for looming, this was it. “Look at me, please.”

• 83 •

Breathless

Elena did, and Grady had been right about the tears.

“What we have together is stronger than any love I’ve ever

known,” Grady said quietly. “I may not be real clear on motherhood

yet. But I know with absolute certainty that you’re the woman I want

to wake up next to each morning, for the rest of my life. If you need to

hear me say that every single day, Elena, it would be my honor.”

Beyond Elena, Grady caught a glimpse of a small flame near the

ground as another luminaria was lit, but all she really needed to see

was Elena’s slow smile. They stood close, almost touching, the steam

of their breath blending. Somehow the sweet intimacy of Elena’s gaze

was more powerful in that moment than her touch could have been.

“Thank you, querida.”

“You’re welcome.” Grady took their empty cups and dropped

them into a curbside bin. Beyond Elena, a cloaked woman kneeling

in the entrance to an alley used a tapered candle to light the next in a

series of luminarias leading into the dark passage. “Hmm. What’s up

with that?”

“What?” Elena asked.

“I thought teenagers usually lit a town’s luminarias. And she’s

placing them pretty far from the church, isn’t she?”

“Who is?” Elena looked over her shoulder, then studied Grady

intently. “You see a woman lighting luminarias, back in that alley?”

“Well, yeah, honey. She’s right there.”

“All right.” Elena smiled and bounced on her toes. “I think perhaps

we should stroll down this alley.”

“Down there? But it’s dark.” Grady pointed the way they came.

“And the biscochitos are back there.”

“We’ll get you some cookies on the way home. Come, please.”

Grady sighed and followed Elena down the twisting path. Elena

walked past the kneeling woman without acknowledging her. The

woman cupped the lit taper with her hand, and its glow gave her

porcelain features a reddish cast. She wore an intricate metal crucifix

around her neck. She had large, kind eyes, and she smiled up at Grady.

“Evening,” Grady said.

The cloaked woman nodded pleasantly, then bent over the next

paper bag.

The alley was narrow and apparently deep. A thin, wet trail of

• 84 •

Luminaria Light

melting snow marked the middle of the stony ground, and Grady

walked closely behind Elena.

“Watch that broken glass there.” Grady detected no sign of other

holiday revelers in this dank place, so she took Elena’s hand. The

passage was crowded with barrels and stacked wooden crates, and they

had to wend carefully around them. The cold seemed to have deepened

several degrees in the dim corridor. “Do you know what we’re looking

for?”

“I might.” Elena peered around a jag in the alley’s wall. “I seem to

remember a…ay, there she is. There she still is.”

Grady felt an odd prickling at the back of her neck.

As Catholic shrines go, this one was small and looked long

neglected. The image of the honored saint stood about waist-high in a

wooden square no larger than a shoebox set on an upended barrel. Old,

melted candles stood in a half-circle before the image, and long-dried

stems of flowers adorned its frame.

“My grandmother brought me here once.” Elena slid the shawl off

her shoulders and folded it. She lay it on the cold stones at the base of

the shrine and knelt on the bunched fabric. “Grady, this is Saint Brigid.”

She crossed herself and whispered softly in Spanish.

“Saint Brigid? Brigid of Ireland?” Grady rested her hands on her

knees, fascinated. “I wouldn’t think an Irish saint would have a big

following in Mesi—”

“Excúseme.” Elena opened one eye and pointed skyward. “I am

not talking to you.”

“Oops. Sorry.” Grinning, Grady unbuttoned her coat and slipped

it over Elena’s shoulders. Crouching on her heels, she studied the icon

while Elena prayed.

The pale face wore a generically benevolent expression,

interchangeable with most religious portraits Grady had seen. She

touched the thick glass square covering the picture and gently wiped

the moisture from the pane to see her more clearly. The dark-haired

woman wore a cross around her neck and carried a lit candle in her

hand. Grady blinked. When she focused on the saint again, the candle

had changed into a small lamp.

Grady sensed Elena watching her with an indulgent smile. “Hey.

Really. What are we doing here?”

• 85 •

Breathless

“You tell me. I’m not the one who was drawn to this place.”

“Are you kidding? Elena, you all but dragged me in here.”

“Grady, of the two of us, who would you say is more Irish?”

“All right, yes, I’m Irish. But I don’t pray to—”

“Saint Brigid is always depicted carrying a lamp. Which of us saw

a woman lighting luminarias leading to this shrine?”

“I thought we both did…”

Elena cleared her throat.

“Oh,” Grady said.

“And which of us is having dreams pleading for holy

intervention?”

“What?”

“Saint Brigid is the patron saint of babies.” Elena nodded fondly

at the icon. “Specifically of newborns.”

And Brigid began to weep.

They didn’t see the saint cry, they heard her. Elena’s eyes widened

as soft sobs sounded in the freezing alley. They both turned to the icon,

but the saint still regarded them with serene detachment, dry-eyed.

“What is that?” Grady’s heart filled with rising horror. “Jesus,

Elena.”

“If it’s Jesus, we better find Him fast.” Elena jumped up and began

searching behind the crates and short towers of boxes that cluttered the

space.

Grady searched, too, shaking with cold, listening hard for the faint

cries. Her stomach soured with fear and disorientation at this jarring

return to her nightmare.

“Do you hear it?” Elena sounded shaken, too.

“It’s not over here—”

But it was.

Grady lifted a snarl of crumpled newspaper covering a tattered

box. Speechless, she could only stare.

“Grady? What is it?”

“Uh, it’s a rat.” Grady bent and lifted a small puppy carefully by

its nape. Its legs kicked the air feebly, and it whimpered again.

Elena gasped. “Diosa. The poor thing.” She quickly took the little

animal from Grady, cradled it against her chest, and wrapped Grady’s

coat around it. The puppy trembled so hard it seemed to vibrate in

Elena’s arms.

• 86 •

Luminaria Light

“Damn, it’s just a baby.” Grady’s pulse began to settle. “Doesn’t

look old enough to be weaned yet.”

“The little niña is skin and bones.” Elena rested her cheek on the

puppy’s head. “No one has been looking after her. Hurry, Grady. We

need to get her someplace warm.”

Elena rushed away and Grady stumbled to catch up She slowed

just long enough to snatch Elena’s shawl from the ground at the base

of Saint Brigid’s shrine, taking one last look at the saint’s distant smile

before bolting after Elena.

The puppy made weak mournful piping sounds as they emerged

from the alley. Grady didn’t see the woman lighting luminarias at its

entrance—she didn’t even see the luminarias now. The path was dark.

But Mesilla Plaza was alight in its full Christmas Eve glory,

thronged with people. Snow still fell, dusting the cobblestones of the

plaza a ghostly white. Luminarias burnished the stately square with

carpets of flickering gold-red light. Grady spared a few seconds to

appreciate their beauty, but mostly she concentrated on keeping up with

Elena and her squeaking bundle.

“I’m glad she’s strong enough to cry. She needs food badly,” Elena

said. “Grady, you’re out here in shirtsleeves. Put my shawl on, if it isn’t

too damp.”

Grady did, watching a small black nose poke inquisitively out of

Elena’s arms. If this was a certain breed of dog, its identification might

remain forever a mystery. From what Grady could see, its fur was a

motley collection of black and brown and white, and it had outsized

floppy ears. The puppy peered up at her with anxious brown eyes, its

forehead wrinkled. After a brief glance, it rested its head against Elena’s

breast again, shivering. Grady understood the comfort of laying her

head on that breast. She hoped the puppy would survive.

Elena smiled at Grady and indicated the shadow cast on the

ground before them. The faint luminaria light outlined their figures—

Grady’s tall, shawl-cloaked form walking close beside Elena’s smaller

one, carrying a fragile little life in her arms. They formed an unnerving

image of the Holy Family. The light from the luminarias faded behind

them, and they entered the darker neighborhoods near Elena’s shop.

Grady brushed snow off Elena’s dark hair. Elena’s fine-boned

hand cradled the puppy’s head as she murmured calm, soothing words

to the little dog. Grady couldn’t imagine a woman more naturally born

• 87 •

Breathless

to parenting than Elena. Somehow Elena had grown beyond the needy

example of Inez Montalvo. She would be a strong and loving mother.

And Grady owed her a Christmas present.

“A puppy is a little more appealing than an iguana,” Grady said.

Elena looked at her with a question in her eyes.

“A puppy is also a lot more tangible than a promise.” Grady

saw no one else on the dark street and draped her arm around Elena’s

shoulders. “If we keep this wee mutt, we’d need to make a home for

her. We’d want to start making it now, working together on that. A home

that can also welcome our kid, some year soon.”

Elena was silent, but the shining in her eyes dazzled Grady’s heart.

At that moment, they turned a dark corner and were suddenly bathed in

a glorious light. Grady stood transfixed.

At the end of the small road, Elena’s shop was festooned with

shimmering luminarias. They stood three deep on the roof, and two

perfectly aligned rows of them began at their feet and led directly to

Elena’s door. By comparison, the rest of the neighborhood dimmed into

obscurity. A crew of five or more would be needed to prepare such a

display. Many ladders would be involved.

Grady swallowed. “Do you think your mother—”

“Not one chance in hell,” Elena whispered.

Frowning, Grady remembered coming upon this wondrous sight

just as she voiced her promise to Elena. “Is Brigid known for making

cheesy and dramatic gestures?”

“We’ll have to Google her.” Elena leaned against Grady with a

contented sigh and held the puppy up to see the glowing bags. “Look,

little one. Holy lanterns lighting your way home. Do you have something

to tell us? Like perhaps you are a very special dog?” She touched her

nose to the puppy’s, looking at her seriously. “Use your words.”

As they walked together down the luminous path leading to

Elena’s home, Grady heard Spanish Christmas carols blaring loudly

behind closed shutters on the second floor. She stepped up onto the

boardwalk and opened the door for Elena.

“Welcome home, little dog,” Grady said. “We’re going to call you

Inez.”

• 88 •

• 89 •

d. JacksOn leigh works as newspaper journalist in North Carolina.

She shares her life with her wonderful partner, her Jack Russell terrier,

and “the cat” that made herself at home when Jackson and the JRT

weren’t watchful. Her Bold Strokes novels include Bareback and Long

Shot. This story, “Reindeer Roundup,” revisits the characters featured

in Long Shot. Her third novel, Call Me Softly, is scheduled for release

in 2011.

• 90 •

reindeer rounduP

d. Jackson leigh

Tory cursed when still another string of red and green lights

blinked off. She flung the garland in her hand to the floor

and turned to get the box of replacement bulbs from the coffee table,

groaning at the sound of glass ornaments crunching under her foot.

“I give up,” she shouted to the empty room. She flopped down

onto the couch and stared out the window at the eight inches of fresh

snow.

What the hell was she thinking when she let Leah talk her into

buying all these decorations? Oh, yeah. She was thinking they would

be sipping warm spiced wine and stringing lights together to celebrate

their first Christmas.

Four months had passed since she and Leah admitted their love

for each other and openly began their courtship. Three of those months

had been the most exhilarating of Tory’s life.

They had taken a day-long horseback ride in the Appalachian

Mountains when the leaves changed to an autumn palette of red, gold,

and brilliant yellow. They’d shared afternoon picnics and candlelit

dinners, art exhibits, and shopping trips. For one cozy week, they’d

hidden out at a private cabin and skied the slopes at a nearby resort.

What she’d loved the most, though, were the simple moments

when they cuddled on her couch to watch a DVD or laughed together

at the antics of their overly curious Chincoteague foal, Sure Thing.

Those nights when they opened their hearts and shed their clothes

to explore their passion in every soft curve, every sensitive pulse of

each other’s bodies, were wonderful beyond description.

There wasn’t much about them that was similar. Leah was a

petite brunette, while Tory was tall, athletic, and blond. Leah was an

• 91 •

Breathless

outspoken steel magnolia whereas everyone described Tory as laid-

back. As a journalist, Leah took things apart to expose what was wrong.

As a veterinarian, Tory put things back together and made them right

again.

Despite their differences, like two polar ends of a magnet, they

were drawn together by a force too powerful to resist. That’s why the

past few weeks, when work had pulled them in different directions, had

been pure torture. Leah had recently won a new contract to help shape a

new legislative proposal on extended home care and was busy lining up

witnesses to testify before the Virginia General Assembly in January.

Tory was glad that Leah’s new venture—consulting work based out of

Cherokee Falls—was already paying off. But damn it, it was hard to be

apart so early in their relationship.

Leah had first said she’d only be away a week, and they’d talked

on the phone several times a day. When the work took longer than

expected, Tory had driven to Richmond for a promised two days of

making love and ordering room service in a fancy hotel suite. The

weekend of passion had melted away on Saturday morning with the

fifth phone call for more information. Tory ended up watching television

alone while Leah spent most of the weekend working at her laptop with

an apologetic, but very attractive and openly lesbian lawyer.

Tory had returned to Cherokee Falls on Sunday night, clutching

to her heart Leah’s vow to be back home before the next weekend. But

by the end of the second week, Leah’s phone calls had become less

frequent, and when they did talk, Leah was too tired to carry on much

of a conversation. On Thursday, she had called to say they still had not

finished their work. To make it home in time for Christmas, she would

have to work through the weekend again and most of the next week.

So, here it was Sunday afternoon and no Leah. Tory surveyed

her halfhearted attempt to decorate the tree alone, her heart growing

heavier with each wink of the cheerful lights. Their last conversation

on Friday kept replaying in her mind, awakening every devil that had

ever plagued her.

“We’re working every minute of the day, honey,” Leah told her on

Friday night, but she sounded distracted and Tory could hear giggling in

the background. She had hung up without the soft sighs and confessions

of love and loneliness that usually concluded their phone calls. The real

• 92 •

Reindeer Roundup

knife in her gut, the ache in her chest, came from the fact that Leah

hadn’t seemed to notice.

Her depression was a heavy weight. Lugging it around the past

two days had exhausted her. Tory leaned her head back and closed her

eyes. She imagined Leah calling to say her work in Richmond had

reminded her why she liked living in large cities. She imagined Leah

saying things just weren’t going to work out for her to live in Cherokee

Falls.

Those thoughts were her last until cold hands and warm lips

feathered across her face and drew her from a troubled doze. She

blinked several times to focus on eyes the color of dark honey and

realized the weight pinning her legs was Leah straddling her lap.

“There they are,” Leah said softly. “I’ve been missing my

leprechaun’s green eyes.”

“You didn’t call me yesterday,” Tory said, her voice gruff. How

much have you really missed me?

“You hung up Friday without telling me that you love me,” Leah

said, her words more of a question than an accusation.

Tory didn’t answer and averted her eyes, ashamed for Leah to see

the mistrust in them.

“You hung up before I could tell you how much I was missing

you,” Leah said, stroking Tory’s cheek.

“You sounded busy…and distracted. You sounded like you weren’t

alone.” Tory scowled, still refusing to meet Leah’s gaze. “I could hear

someone laughing.”

“Ah. I see.” Leah shrugged. “You caught me. I met another woman

in Richmond. She’s very cute and blond like you. But her eyes are blue.

The prettiest color blue I think I’ve ever seen. I fell in love with her the

first time I met her.”

“I don’t want to hear about it.” She couldn’t believe Leah could

be so casual about another woman. She couldn’t look at her and didn’t

want to be touching her. Tory tried to push her away.

But Leah locked her hands behind Tory’s neck and hung on tight.

“And she’s ten years old.”

Tory stopped her struggle. She blinked back tears and looked up

at Leah. “Wha…what?”

“That was Alisha’s ten-year-old daughter. We were working at

• 93 •

Breathless

their house because her partner had to attend a fund-raiser and they

couldn’t find a sitter.”

Relief and embarrassment flooded through Tory. She buried her

face in Leah’s neck. She felt like a big baby, a big jealous baby.

“Oh, sugar. This is my fault.” Leah tightened her arms around

Tory. “I know there were times when we first met that I pushed you

away. But that was before I gave you my heart, darlin’. Don’t you know

you own me?”

Leah stroked Tory’s back. “I’ve always been able to lose myself in

work. But when you didn’t call me at all yesterday, I told Alisha that I

had to go home. If the snowplows had cleared the roads sooner, I would

have been here last night.”

“Really?”

Leah chuckled at Tory’s muffled voice against her neck. “Really,

sugar.”

“I was afraid you had changed your mind about us. That maybe

you decided Cherokee Falls was too small and dull for you.”

“No, baby, never. Christ almighty. I missed you so much I actually

had a wet dream about you. It was so real I woke up in the middle of a

huge orgasm.”

“You dreamed about me?” Her dark cloud lifting, Tory pulled

Leah closer.

“Night and day.” Leah slipped her hands under Tory’s shirt and

raked her nails along her spine. “Now, what are you going to do about

making those dreams come true?”

Tory nuzzled Leah’s neck. “You smell like chocolate.”

Leah leaned back and lifted her chin to expose a tiny reindeer

tattoo on the pulse point just below her jawline. “Compliments of my

young girlfriend. Taste it.”

Tory sniffed at the reindeer, then tentatively stroked it with her

tongue. “Mmm. Chocolate mint.” She couldn’t resist planting kisses

along the length of Leah’s neck. “My favorite flavor on my favorite

person. I love early Christmas gifts.”

“Oh, no, sugar. This gift is for me.” She hummed with pleasure

when Tory’s mouth found the tattoo again, then gasped as Tory sucked

hard. Leah rubbed her crotch against Tory’s stomach. “I’ve got Santa’s

whole team hidden all over my body. It’s your job, lover, to find every

• 94 •

Reindeer Roundup

one of those little fellers and lick it off before you get me so hot they

melt.”

Tory growled, her mouth never leaving Leah’s neck as she stood

and wrapped her arms under Leah’s hips to carry her to the bedroom.

No one but Leah had ever provoked such an aggressive need to possess

and protect.

Dasher was nothing but a lingering bruise on Leah’s neck, and

when she spied another reindeer nestled in Leah’s cleavage, buttons

flew across the room. A scrape of her teeth, a lashing of the tongue, and

Dancer was a casualty, too.

Leah’s body was her battlefield and each tiny reindeer devoured

was another doubt conquered. Leah belonged to her. No job, no other

woman was going to steal her away.

It took some effort, but Tory slowed her attack when she discovered

Prancer covering a puckered nipple. Torture by tongue was to be his

sentence for hiding in such a coveted place.

“God, I’ve missed your mouth on me.” Leah moaned as Tory freed

her breast of the invader.

She found Cupid prancing low across Leah’s soft, lean belly, his

antlers poised to guard what Tory came to claim. She attacked swiftly,

wielding her tongue with deadly accuracy and moving on.

Vixen was patrolling the inside of a firm thigh and Tory pushed

Leah’s knees apart to pounce. The sweet mint that coated her lips

mingled with the heady scent of Leah’s arousal. She nuzzled into that

wet heat, painting her lips, chin, and cheeks with the spoils of her

campaign.

“Tory, oh, God.” Leah’s hand was on the back of her head, urging

her to engage the final skirmish.

She licked her slick entrance clean, then plunged her tongue

inside.

“Yes,” Leah hissed, lifting her hips and opening her legs wider.

“Please, baby, I need to come so bad.”

She laved her tongue alongside but not touching Leah’s turgid clit.

She loved it when her normally bossy lover was reduced to begging.

“More,” Tory growled.

“Anything. Anything you want. Just make me come.”

“There are four more.”

• 95 •

Breathless

“No, don’t stop,” Leah pleaded as a bite to her thigh signaled

Tory’s retreat. “Oh!”

She gripped Leah’s knees and flipped her over to attack the rear

guard. She stalked her next victim, nipping and sucking upward from

the ankle.

Leah squirmed as Donner quickly surrendered his post behind her

knee, then grew still when she felt Tory pause. Hot breath bathed the

backs of her thighs and she shuddered.

Comet had been spied.

Tory knew exactly why Comet was stationed on Leah’s right

butt cheek, inviting ambush. Leah loved Tory’s teeth on her sensitive

buttocks, relished Tory’s assertive tendency to bite when they made

love in this position.

“Look what I found,” Tory whispered.

“God, I want your hand between my legs, your fingers inside me.

I need you to make me come.”

Leah jerked when Tory bit down hard on the hapless reindeer and

moaned as Comet was devoured in one huge sucking assault. Tory’s

attack didn’t stop with the tattoo. Leah writhed as every inch of both

cheeks was licked and nipped.

“God, touch me before I come without it.”

Tory stroked the inside of Leah’s thighs and Leah reflexively

opened her legs in offering. When she stopped caressing her, Leah’s

hips pumped, as if begging for more.

“Please, baby. I need you. I need you now.”

Tory didn’t answer, but pushed between Leah’s legs and under her

thighs. With her face pressed into the bed and her thighs draped over

Tory’s shoulders, Leah was totally open, totally exposed and dripping

wet.

“Oh, please lick me.”

Again, Tory denied her. She worked upward to thrust her tongue

inside and Leah groaned. Tory inched her tongue higher and Leah’s

breath hitched.

“I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come,” Leah panted.

“Wait.” Tory pushed up and covered Leah with her weight. She

rubbed her swollen clit against Leah’s firm thigh and filled her with her

fingers. She stroked her inside and out, pumping her hand in rhythm

with the rolling of her hips against Leah’s leg.

• 96 •

Reindeer Roundup

Tory’s orgasm gathered and began to swarm through her belly as

Leah matched her movements, pushing backward to meet each thrust.

“I can’t wait. I can’t wait,” Leah cried.

That’s when she saw Blitzen, the last reindeer sentry, protecting

the juncture of Leah’s shoulder and neck—Tory’s claiming spot.

“Now. Come now,” Tory commanded, biting down hard and

holding Blitzen in her teeth as she thrust with her hips and hand.

Leah’s cries mingled with Tory’s howl as they released together

and rode out the waves of pleasure. They collapsed in a heap, their

hearts pounding in perfect sync.

Tory lazily licked at the remnants of Blitzen and smiled to herself.

Her very creative lover had so many facets to her personality, she

looked forward to a lifetime of discovery.

She rolled onto her back and pulled Leah into her arms. They were

both sweaty and parts of Leah were still sticky, but Tory didn’t care.

She kissed her slowly, tenderly. “I love you.”

Leah rose up on her elbow, her eyes searching Tory’s. “I love you,

Tory.” She combed damp tendrils of Tory’s hair back from her face. “I

don’t like being away from you. I know we’ll probably get better at it

after a couple of years, but not now, not yet.”

“I don’t want to keep you from your work,” Tory said. “I’m afraid

you would resent that somewhere down the road.”

“I’ve already decided on my next project, and the research won’t

take me any farther than the Equestrian Center.”

Tory frowned. “You’re investigating our friends?”

Leah laughed softly. “No, sugar. Alisha told her daughter that I

had a baby pony and that’s all the kid wanted to hear all about. So I

told her a few stories about Sure’s adventures and she said, ‘You should

write a book about your pony.’”

“You’re going to write a kid’s book?”

“You don’t think I can?”

“I think you’d be wonderful at it. You’re a natural storyteller.”

Tory grinned. “And you won’t have to go away to do it.”

Leah kissed her again. “No, I won’t have to go away.”

“I want you to move in with me.” Tory blurted it out before she

lost her nerve. “We can change the house any way you want or we can

sell it and build a new one.” She stroked Leah’s bare back. “I want to

lie down with you every night and wake up with you every morning.

• 97 •

Breathless

When I’m working, I want to be able to think about you in your own

office here, typing away on your laptop. I want to cuddle on the couch

and watch television with you. I want to do laundry with you, cook

meals with you, take naps with you.”

Leah’s eyes filled and she laid her cheek against Tory’s heart. “I’ve

been waiting for you to ask.”

Tory attempted to sit up. “Let’s get dressed and go get your stuff

now.”

Leah pushed her back down on the pillows. “We’ll go tomorrow.

We’re not done here yet.”

“We’re not?”

“No, sugar. I’ve got a big old red-nosed Rudolph that I saved just

for you.” Leah pulled the sheet back to expose all of Tory’s long, naked

body. “I just have to decide where I’m going to stick him.”

Tory grinned. “Merry Christmas to me.”

• 98 •

• 99 •

cJ harTe grew up loving words. By age four, she was reading to her

mother, and by nine she was writing poetry. She wrote her first play

in the ninth grade. She has written numerous short stories and poetry,

which have been published in regional literary magazines and online.

CJ wrote many of the lyrics, including the title song, for the musical Am

I Blue? She is the author of Dreams of Bali, which introduces Madison

and Karlie, and Magic of the Heart. She lives in Wyoming with her two

dogs and enjoys traveling, spending time with family and friends, and

writing and reading. She can be reached at www.hartescape.net.

• 100 •

dreams: a Promise kePt

c.J. harte

Karlie Henderson stared across the kitchen table at her lover.

Madison Barnes had once made her life hell and now made

it heaven…mostly. “Okay, what’s going on?” She watched Madison

push food around on her plate and then play with the glass of wine.

Something’s up. “Neither one of us is pregnant, so that can’t be the

problem.”

Madison laughed. “You’re still a smart-ass.” She took Karlie’s hand

and gently caressed it. “I’m sorry.” She thought about their argument

earlier in the day. “I know I asked you to live with me last year, and

this wasn’t what I had in mind. The two of us commuting between New

York and Miami, catching whatever time we can get.” Falling in love

with Karlie had been life altering, and now she often found the ground

shifting under her and didn’t know how to make it firm again. “I just

needed time to sell my practice and…”

Karlie pulled her hand away and leaned back in her seat. She was

tired of this discussion. “Please, Madison, I don’t want to argue.” When

Madison started to interrupt, she put up her hand. “No, listen. Please. I

offered to move, but you didn’t think your place was big enough. I said

I could get my own place in Miami, and you thought it was ridiculous

for us to live in different houses. I suggested I apply for a vacancy at

Florida State University in Tallahassee, and you didn’t want me living

that far away. Madison, New York is a hell of a lot farther. We’ve been

lovers for nearly a year.”

She took a deep breath, hating the anxiety that was threatening to

drive a wedge between them. “If you’re not ready for me to move in, I

accept that, but I don’t want to spend the rest of our lives like this.” She

• 101 •

Breathless

again held Madison’s hand. “Now, take me to bed so I will miss you

terribly when you leave in the morning.”

When she woke up, Karlie found the bed empty. Madison was

already in the shower. As much as Karlie wanted to beg Madison to

stay, her pride kept her in bed. Only the cries from the puppy Madison

had given her finally forced her to get up and get dressed. “Come on,

Alice B,” Karlie called as she grabbed the miniature poodle’s leash. “I

think we both need a walk.”

By the time she got back, Karlie was calm and ready to say goodbye. Again. Madison was already dressed and packed, her bags at the door. “What time is your case?”

“It’s just a preliminary hearing this afternoon, but I need to get

there early enough to meet my client.” She paused, as if looking for

something more to say. “I’ve already called for a cab.”

“Is this a new client, then?”

“Yeah, he’s…” Madison stopped. “Karlie, this is a good kid

who…”

I will not cry, Karlie thought. “Madison, you are doing what you

love.” She kissed Madison with a new hesitancy. “Now go, before I

start taking your clothes off.”

“I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

“Are you coming down next weekend?”

Karlie looked down at her hands. “I’ve got a lot to do. End-ofsemester stuff.” She finally looked up. “Maybe we ought to just focus on work until Christmas break. It’s only a month away.”

“A month?” Madison sounded shocked.

“I think we both need some time.” Karlie quickly hugged Madison

one last time, then opened the door. “Now go. The cab must be here.”

“Fine! I’ll probably be busy anyway.” Madison grabbed her bag

and stormed off.

Karlie watched Madison walk away, feeling a void opening up.

“Why does love have to be so complicated?”

v

Madison slammed down the phone. “Fuck it,” she shouted. She

really wanted to throw something. Nothing had gone well in the three

• 102 •

Dreams: A Promise Kept

days she had been back in Miami. For the first time in her career, she

didn’t give a fuck about the law. She missed Karlie so much it hurt.

“Well, then, do something about it.” She turned her chair around and

stared out at Biscayne Bay. She had never felt lonelier. She laughed at

the realization. “I’m the one who avoided commitments.”

Sure, she had changed in the past year, but not enough to make

room in her day to day life for the woman she loved. The only woman

I have ever loved. It was time to do something. She called in her senior

legal staff and then called her sister Dee. It took the rest of the week, but

she had a plan. Once she made up her mind, she acted.

v

On Saturday, Karlie got a call from Madison.

“Did you know that my mother is English?” Madison asked.

That was the last thing Karlie expected to hear. “I vaguely

remember Dee saying something about that when we were in college.

Is something wrong with your mother?”

“Not hardly. She and Dad will be returning to Florida the first

of December. As usual, they want to have a big family gathering to

announce their return. Anyway, I was wondering if you would like to

go to London and Paris with me for Christmas. I need to take care of

some things for my mother and I thought it would be a great way for the

two of us to spend a month together.”

“A month?” They hadn’t had more than three days together in

over six months. “That’s a wonderful idea, but what about Bali?”

“We were there last year and I went to escape. Now I have you,

and I want to celebrate the holidays with you.”

Karlie couldn’t believe Madison would take that much time away

from work. Suddenly doubt and worry struck. She was still feeling

guilty for the way their last visited ended. “You really mean a whole

month?”

“Absolutely. With you.”

Madison sounded so assured. “Yes,” Karlie said, “I would love to

go. What’s the plan?”

“I’ll fly up there and we’ll leave from New York. See you in a

couple of weeks.” Karlie thought she heard a sigh of relief. “I really do

love you.”

• 103 •

Breathless

v

“I’ve never flown in first class,” Karlie said, impressed with the

accommodations so far. She had a glass of champagne in her hand even

before they had taken off. The phenomenal success of her first romance

novel had given her more money than she had ever hoped for, but she

still was conservative in her spending. “University profs are not rich.”

“I’ve spent so little of the money my grandparents left in trust,”

Madison explained, “and Dee and I will someday inherit my parents’

assets, too. I decided it’s time to spend some. Besides, you’re worth it.”

For the first time in her life Madison had someone she wanted to have

fun with. She and her sister had been raised by a succession of nannies

while her socialite parents traveled and led their own lives. She had

assumed responsibility for her younger sister at a very early age. As a

result, work had always come first, whether it was school, college, or

her law career. Now she wanted to play. “And you will just have to wait

to see what else is planned.”

What’s going on? Karlie wondered. This was a new side to

Madison, one she had not seen before. “I can do that, as long as we are

together.”

“I need to tell you that my parents were disappointed you wouldn’t

be joining them at Christmas. The notorious Karlyn Henderson would

be even more stellar this year than you were as just a writer last year.”

“I would much rather be known for writing and teaching, not

for being arrested for murder or having my lover shot defending

me.” Unpleasant memories flooded to the surface, and Karlie fought

back tears. “Sorry. The thought of losing you scared me. And I would

much prefer being known as Madison Barnes’s wonderful, beautiful,

intelligent, talented lover.” She stroked Madison’s hand and familiar

desire stirred. “God, I want you.”

Madison smiled smugly. “Don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of

time.”

“Okay, when are you going to tell me what we’re going to do?”

“Patience, my dear.”

“I can’t believe you said that. Miss I-got-to-have-it-now.”

“I’m learning. You know, you’re an excellent teacher.”

“And you are my best student.” The leer on Madison’s face

• 104 •

Dreams: A Promise Kept

negated the need for words. Needing a diversion until they landed,

Karlie grabbed her headphones and scrolled through the list of movies.

“I am not listening to this. Go to sleep.”

v

Heathrow Airport and customs went smoothly, and during the

luxurious limousine ride into central London, Karlie had watched the

passing scenery and contemplated the past year. So many changes and

challenges for them both. Neither of them trusted easily. Now they

were building that trust.

“Madison, this place is beautiful.” Karlie turned around in

a complete circle, absorbing the beauty of her surroundings. The

Dorchester’s opulence was far beyond anything she could imagine. She

was on visual overload. Almost immediately their bags were whisked

off to the elevator. Lift, Karlie reminded herself. The lift stopped at the

top of the Dorchester and they were escorted to one of three uniquely

decorated suites. When they were finally alone, she kissed Madison.

“Make love to me right now, in this room and every room.”

“Including the bathroom?”

“Every room!”

“Demanding, aren’t you?” Madison teased as she began to undress

Karlie. She trailed kisses down the side of Karlie’s neck, enjoying the

change in her lover’s breathing. “God, I love you.” Madison recognized

the heat between her legs and hoped she could last long enough to

carefully remove her lover’s clothes. She may want to wear this again.

I can’t believe how much I want her.

They made love in every room and sometimes twice in the same

room until Madison was too exhausted to move. “We probably should

have saved the bedroom for last. This bathroom floor is cold and

hard.”

“I can’t move.”

“Neither can I.” Laughter soon filled the room as Madison tried to

lift Karlie from the floor. “Delilah, you have sapped my strength.”

“Well, Samson, just give me your hand and let’s see if I can stand

up.” Once standing, Karlie pulled Madison into the bedroom and

quickly fell asleep. It was dark by the time she woke up. “Samson, I’m

hungry.”

• 105 •

Breathless

“Room service?”

“No, we go out. I don’t want to miss a minute.”

“Let me make a call and get reservations, then we’ll shower and

get dressed.” An hour later the phone rang and the reservations were

confirmed. “Let’s go, beautiful. Too much to see and do.”

For the next ten days, Madison had every day planned. They drove

to Bath and visited the home of Jane Austen, one of Karlie’s favorite

authors. Then on to Wales and finally back to London with stops in

Windsor and Cambridge. The restaurants and hotels were all exceptional

and they never ate in the same place twice. Madison experienced a mix

of emotions she often had no name for. Her love for Karlie, at times,

was so intense she felt control slipping away.

“Madison, thank you,” Karlie said over high tea after a day of

shopping at Fortnum & Mason. “For an English major, this has been

an incredible trip. You’ve taken me to museums, which you hate, gone

shopping with me, which you find boring, walked with me through

Westminister, which you called a tomb. You even walked with me all

over Harrods and bought me their Christmas bear. This has been the

happiest time of my life. I can’t imagine anything better.”

“It’s so little compared to what you have given me. I’m just sorry

I’ve taken so long to figure this out.”

“Madison, you…”

“No, please. You’re right. I don’t know how to make a commitment,

but I’m learning. I do love you. I promise things will be better.” She

gently placed her hand on top of Karlie’s. “Tomorrow we’re getting on

the Eurostar and going to Paris.”

“Paris? Oh, Madison, how romantic.”

“I think you wrote a love story set there.” She looked at Karlie and

her heart pounded with all the love inside. She was learning about love.

“I’m glad you’re happy.”

v

Madison had arranged for a private guide through the Louvre. She

thrilled at the oohs and aahs coming from Karlie as they went through

the different halls. She enjoyed the Louvre more than she had imagined

because she was sharing the experience with Karlie.

When they stopped in the museum café for lunch, Karlie finally

• 106 •

Dreams: A Promise Kept

asked, “Okay, how did you arrange all this? I know you have unlimited

funds, but I don’t think travel agencies make these trips this personal.”

Madison leaned back in her chair. How much to tell? No, the

real intent won’t be given away. “My sister discovered this wonderful

organization, Privus, that plans personalized trips just for women.

I joined and told them the kinds of places we would like to go, our

budget and all that, and they arranged everything.” She leaned closer

and murmured, “I wanted this to be special.”

“It is.” Karlie hesitated, old insecurities rising. “I just hope you

aren’t planning to dump me after and this is your way of saying goodbye.”

Madison clasped Karlie’s hand. “I don’t ever want to say goodbye.”

The seriousness in Madison’s voice was unsettling. Could Madison

be ill? She had recovered from the gunshot wound last year. “Are you

okay?”

“I’m more than fine. I have you.”

Karlie looked carefully into Madison’s eyes and saw only love.

She trusted that. Trusted her. “In that case, let’s find the guide and

continue our tour.”

For the next three days they strolled the banks of the Seine, visited

Notre Dame, and walked throughout the Latin Quarter, stopping in

shops whenever something attracted their attention. Karlie was ecstatic.

“I feel like I’m on a marathon arts pilgrimage.” She pulled Madison

closer. “Thank you.”

“You’re doing my parents proud. They’ve been trying to get me to

do this for years. Instead I learned to box and shoot guns.”

“And quite well. Now for more culture.”

“Have I told you I love you?”

Karlie looked at her watch. “Not in the last hour.”

Madison just smiled and allowed her lover to drag her along on

their next adventure.

v

On Christmas Eve, Madison walked arm in arm with Karlie down

to the Seine. A bateau had been chartered just for their evening cruise,

and it was almost time to board. Over the last few days, she had been

• 107 •

Breathless

more at peace than ever in her life. She knew she was making the right

decision. Once they were seated, she ordered champagne. It was a large

boat, one that could easily seat seventy or eighty people, but they were

the only guests. “May I propose a toast?”

“To us?”

“Kind of. To promises kept. A year ago I asked you to move in

with me.” The joy vanished from Karlie’s face. “Wait. You were right.

I was afraid. I felt comfortable with the way things were—you in New

York and me in Miami.” Madison reached across the table and took

Karlie’s hand. “You’ve made me want things I didn’t know I wanted. I

do want to live with you—more than I want to practice law.”

Karlie gasped. “I thought sex was the only thing you loved more

than the law.”

“Ouch. That’s my old Karlie.” Madison smiled, falling more in

love every moment. “Only with you, dear.”

“I’m sorry. That just slipped out.”

“Let’s step outside. The view right now is magnificent.” Madison

held Karlie’s coat as she slipped it on. December on the river was

generally cold and damp. Outside, the Eiffel Tower was sparkling with

thousands of lights.

“It’s beautiful,” Karlie said. “I’ve never seen anything so lovely.”

She turned and found Madison’s arms. “Please hold me. I need to be

close to you. Let’s just look.” Madison pulled Karlie tighter and turned

them so they both could watch the Eiffel Tower lights. When she felt

Karlie shivering in the cold, she led them both inside. A covered plate

sat in front of Karlie’s seat. “Hmm. Wonder what that is?”

Madison helped Karlie to her seat and lifted the cover, revealing

a small burgundy velvet box with the name of an English jeweler

embossed on the lid. She sat next to Karlie, opened the lid, and held the

box out to Karlie. “Karlyn Henderson, will you marry me? I may not

have lived up to my promise in the past, but now I can’t live without

you. I made a promise to you a year ago and I want to remedy it. Marry

me?”

Karlie’s eyes welled with tears. “Yes, Madison, if you’re absolutely

sure.”

“More than anything.” She removed the ring from the box and

placed it on Karlie’s finger.

“Alice B and me?”

• 108 •

Dreams: A Promise Kept

Madison laughed. “Yes, you and our dog.”

“Our dog. God, I love the way that sounds, especially when a little

voice in me kept warning me that you might be changing your mind.”

Karlie brushed Madison’s thick hair. “I love you so much.”

Madison wiped away the tears. Karlie’s face was so soft she

felt like she was touching love. Her hand trembled on Karlie’s cheek.

“Two of my junior partners have asked to become senior partners. I’ve

promoted my secretary to executive assistant, so she will run all the

day-to-day operations. I’m free of the practice except to occasionally

attend some partner meetings.”

“You’re full of surprises. I do love you, and”—Karlie gestured to

the room filled with wait staff, musicians, and crew, and lowered her

voice—“if there weren’t so many people in this room, I would make

mad passionate love to you right here.”

Madison raised an eyebrow. “I think there’s a private suite on

board if you want to avoid dinner, but you’d miss the view as we circle

Île de la Cité and Notre Dame.”

“Ugh, there’s something almost sacrilegious about having sex

anywhere within five hundred feet of such a religious symbol. I can

wait. Let’s eat. Food, I mean.”

Madison laughed, happy that everything had gone smoothly so

far.

That evening, when they had returned to their hotel, there was a

new intensity to their lovemaking. Madison couldn’t believe she was

capable of the things Karlie made her feel. For the first time in her life,

making love brought her near to tears. As the tension built in her body,

she whispered, “I love you so much, Karlie,” and those words brought

her to a magnificent orgasm. She trembled and clung to Karlie. “Hold

me. Hold me just like this always.”

Karlie did.

• 109 •

gun brOOke lives and works in her Viking-era village in Sweden,

where she divides her time between writing, family, friends, and dogs.

She often visits the USA on her travels and is constantly on the lookout

for great characters and locations. This short story takes us back to

Carolyn and Annelie from Course of Action, the very first romance Gun

published with Bold Strokes. These characters also make an appearance

in Gun’s latest romance, Fierce Overture (July 2010).

• 110 •

through the eyes of a child

gun Brooke

Christmas Eve

“But, Carolyn, you’re not ready.” The reproach in Annelie

Peterson’s voice was obvious, but the tenderness in her eyes belied her

exasperated expression.

“I…I think this might be a mistake, darling.” Carolyn Black

donned her best version of a convincing smile as she tugged at the

belt of her silk robe. Sitting at her vanity, she had begun to put on

impeccable makeup, making sure every auburn hair was in place, but

she was not dressed. She told herself that she had rehearsed similar

scenes in movies and films enough times to make it sound believable.

“You don’t fool me for a second,” her wife said quietly and took

her by the shoulders, effectively vanquishing the illusion that she’d

ever be able to fool the stunning, tall blonde whom she’d loved more

than life for over five years.

“I don’t?”

“No. You’re intimidated at what’s going on, and you hate that.”

Annelie pressed her full lips to Carolyn’s temple.

“No, I mean, yes, perhaps, but I still think that subjecting Piper

to a multitude of friends so soon is perhaps not the best course of

action.”

“Are you sure that’s the real reason?” Annelie didn’t break contact,

and her bright blue eyes penetrated every single one of Carolyn’s

defenses, as usual.

“No.” Carolyn rolled her shoulders. “I’m not sure of much of

anything, but the fact remains, Piper’s been with us for less than two

months—”

• 111 •

Breathless

“And she’s already dressed in her Christmas dress that you bought

her, sitting on the stairs, waiting.”

“She is?” Carolyn faltered, unable to remember what she intended

to say. “Perhaps because we more or less talked her into this.”

“She’ll be introduced to family and friends who will be her support

network next to the two of us.” Annelie was frowning now, a familiar

but certainly disconcerting knitting of her perfect eyebrows that could

still make Carolyn cringe.

“What if we introduce them to her a few at a time?”

“But, Carolyn, we’ve done that. Your sister and her family. Jem

and the others at Key Line Productions. Now we’re extending her

world a little more by having our annual Christmas party. I don’t see the

harm.” Annelie pulled Carolyn off the vanity chair and into her arms.

“Unless you have a reason you’re not telling me about?”

“I don’t. I just don’t want to do anything that puts unnecessary

pressure on her. She’s just a child.”

“And you’re a mother hen.” Annelie’s narrow features softened

as she leaned in for a kiss. She nibbled along Carolyn’s lips, coaxing

them apart.

“I’m not!” Carolyn insisted after the deep, searing kiss ended.

Annelie’s mouth usually distracted her no end, but right now thoughts

of what was best for Piper took precedence.

“You have about twenty minutes before our guests are here. If we

were going to cancel, it’s a tad on the late side.”

“All right, all right,” Carolyn muttered and sat down at the vanity

again. “I’ll be ready in two minutes.” Carolyn snorted at Annelie’s

expression of doubt. “I promise. Two minutes.” She pulled her

shoulder-length hair into her trademark twist and pushed bobby pins

into it without even looking. Perfecting the already applied mascara

and blush took twenty seconds, some dark berry red lipstick took

another ten, and then she slipped into a black cocktail dress and black

pumps. “There.”

Annelie looked impressed and quite shocked. “You’re telling me

that you could’ve moved that fast at any given time during our years

together and you’ve kept it a secret?”

“Funny.” Carolyn stood and gently but insistently pushed Annelie

up against the door leading into their walk-in closet. She held Annelie

• 112 •

Through the Eyes of a Child

by her waist and pressed her lips against her neck, inwardly blessing

whoever invented her smearproof lipstick. Annelie’s familiar scent of

citrus and vanilla made Carolyn dizzy and she had to remind herself

they were running late. She reluctantly let go, but was pleased to see

Annelie’s eyes darkened with the same passion. Five years, and she can

still take my breath away. And I hers, apparently. Carolyn thought back

to the time when it had just been the two of them. A few months ago,

their lives had changed forever, but most of all it changed irreversibly

for a little nine-year-old girl named Piper.

Two months earlier

Annelie looked at the sleeping child next to her. The plane was

only thirty minutes from landing at Miami International. It had been

a long flight, more than five hours, and the little girl had already been

exhausted before they left Los Angeles.

Finding an unusually rain-drenched City of Angels utterly

depressing, Annelie had spent most of her forty-eight-hour stay indoors.

It had been an eerie sense of continued déjà vu when she’d sat in the

social worker’s office, trying to wrap her brain around the fact that

she had a little family member she’d never known existed. So used

to being alone until she met Carolyn, Annelie had sometimes envied

the people around her with large families. A place to feel safe, where

you could be yourself among people who actually knew you. The real

you. Annelie saw that when Carolyn spent time with her younger sister

Beth and her family, she was far from the famous iconic actress who

couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized. She would tumble

with the kids and joke with Beth and her husband Joe. Nowadays, they

all regarded Annelie just as much a part of their family, which had taken

some getting used to.

Glancing down at the white-blond head resting against her

shoulder, Annelie sighed. I’m going from no living relatives to having

a little sister. It was so surreal, it wasn’t even funny. Suddenly blinking

away persistent tears, Annelie thought of the haunted look in Piper’s

eyes when the social worker introduced them at the temporary foster

parents’ house. Her first impression was a pair of huge, porcelain blue

• 113 •

Breathless

eyes in a triangular little face, looking at her with a dulled expression.

The unreal feeling was reinforced by the fact that her little sister looked

exactly like Annelie at that age. Unexpected, since Annelie was the

very image of her mother. Perhaps my father fell for a certain type of

woman. Blond, tall, and curvaceous.

Annelie’s father had only lived with Piper’s mother for a year, then

left before the little girl was born. He had never paid any child support

or taken any interest in Piper whatsoever, something that didn’t surprise

Annelie in the least. She remembered many birthdays and Christmases

when she’d waited by the phone and the mailbox, hoping to hear from

him. It hurt her to imagine this elfin girl doing the same, and pained

her even more to think of Piper losing her mother less than a week ago.

The social worker had sounded relieved to find a relative so soon, and

had been quite perplexed when the half-sister turned out to be a famous

Hollywood producer and publisher. At first this seemed to bother the

conscientious woman, but she mellowed when she realized Annelie

was also a prolific philanthropist who generated enormous amounts for

programs for women and children, as well as HIV/AIDs victims of any

age.

“Piper, this is your big sister Annelie.” The social worker carefully

made the introduction together with the foster parents. Piper had not

spoken a word for the first hour, but when it became apparent she was

going to stay with Annelie, she had whisperingly asked if Annelie’s

trailer park was far from where she had stayed with her mother.

“Oh, Piper.” Annelie sank to her knees, taking both of Piper’s

hands in gentle grip. “I don’t live in a trailer park. I live in a house in

Miami, Florida. I have plane tickets for us to go there tomorrow. I’ll be

back here tomorrow morning to pick you up.”

“I can’t go with you now? Please?” Piper asked and clung to

Annelie’s fingers, her own hands ice cold.

“No, sweetie. Not yet. Tomorrow.”

“You promise to come back?”

It broke Annelie’s heart to hear Piper plead. “I promise.” Annelie

acted on impulse and pulled the little girl into her arms. She felt how

thin Piper was, how she trembled. Annelie rocked her, wanting to infuse

some of her own warmth. When she let go, she dug in her purse for a

business card. “Here. If there is anything you need, or you just want to

• 114 •

Through the Eyes of a Child

say hello, you can call this number.” Annelie pointed at the number at

the bottom. “That goes to my cell phone.”

“Okay.” Piper pressed the business card to her chest.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve started our descent to Miami

International and expect to touch down in fifteen minutes…” The

captain’s voice made Annelie flinch and return to the present. Piper

still slept soundly, and considering this was her first flight ever, it was

no doubt a sign of her exhaustion that she hadn’t been able to keep her

eyes open.

“Piper? Sweetie? We’re about to land.”

Piper stirred and then sat up, wide eyed when she noticed she had

slept leaning against Annelie. “Will Ca-Carolyn be there?”

“I know she will. She’s so eager to meet you.”

“She won’t think I’m in the way?”

“Far from it.” Annelie knew that Carolyn was probably pacing the

VIP section of Miami International as they spoke, impatiently waving

off the staff as they tried to cater to her. “She’s been really busy getting

your room ready.”

“My room.” Piper suddenly had that dazed look from yesterday

when Annelie first met her.

“Shh. Everything will be fine.” Annelie hoped she sounded more

convincing that she felt.

Christmas Eve

“You thinking about what Santa might bring tomorrow?” Carolyn

asked and sat down next to Piper halfway down the landing.

“Santa?” Piper blinked repeatedly. “I don’t think he knows I’m

here. He thinks I’m still at the trailer park with…with Mama.”

“Oh, honey.” Carolyn hugged Piper close. She kissed the top

of Piper’s head. “I think Santa knows exactly where you are. And he

knows you lost your mom as well, sweetie. He knows these things.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely,” Annelie chimed in, sending Carolyn a grateful nod

as she took a seat on Piper’s other side. “Santa is a clever guy.”

“Not always,” Piper murmured.

• 115 •

Breathless

“What do you mean?” Carolyn asked.

“He didn’t always come to the trailer park. He forgot me and my

friends.” Piper sighed.

“Oh, honey, I understand.” Annelie briefly touched Piper’s cheek,

but the girl pulled back suddenly.

“No, you don’t.” Piper sounded angry and glowered at Annelie

and Carolyn. Her small body was tense and she trembled. “You don’t

know anything. You never came to see us. You never saw how sick

Mama was.”

“Piper, sweetheart.” Carolyn spoke softly. “We didn’t know. If

anyone had contacted Annelie, we would’ve helped, I promise.”

“Nobody could help Mama.” Piper stood up, but her legs buckled

beneath her and she slumped down on the plush-carpeted step again.

“Mama was always afraid that social workers would take me away from

her. I tried to tell her that she shouldn’t worry. I wouldn’t let them take

me, but…then she left me. ” She wiped furiously at her eyes. “That’s

not fair.”

“God almighty, it’s not fair at all,” Annelie muttered.

“You know what? You’re right.” Carolyn extended a hand to Piper.

“We have only some idea what you’ve been through. I lost my mother

when I was twelve, just a little older than you. I had to take care of my

sister, who was one, and my brother, who was six, because my father

had to work.”

Piper sobbed, but her eyes had softened marginally. “Really?”

“Really.” Carolyn motioned for Piper to move closer. “And one

thing I can promise you, you’re going to be okay. You will think of your

mama many times and cry, but you’ll be fine in the end.”

“How do you know that?”

“We just do.” Annelie wrapped her arms around Piper and Carolyn.

“And there’s one more thing I know for sure.” She waited until Piper’s

curiosity made the girl scoot closer. “Your mama wouldn’t want you to

be sad forever. She wanted what was best for you. Always. That’s what

mothers do.”

“Yes.” Piper nodded and finally relaxed into Annelie’s arms. “I

just want her back so bad.”

“Of course you do. That’s only natural.” Annelie looked through

tears at Carolyn. The thin arms around her neck obviously choked her

• 116 •

Through the Eyes of a Child

in more ways than one. “I can make you another promise, Piper. You’re

not alone. We’re not going to abandon you.”

Trembling and crying quietly, Piper hid in Annelie’s arms long

enough for her legs to go numb and her back to ache, but Annelie kept

her gentle hold on the little girl. Eventually Piper’s tears ceased and she

accepted a tissue from Carolyn.

“Let’s go downstairs and make sure everything is ready for the

party.” Carolyn rose. “I think I can hear cars pulling up outside.”

v

The house glittered and sparkled like a treasure chest. Not one

but three Christmas trees stood tall and abundantly decorated in the

living, family, and dining rooms. Illuminated garlands adorned the

doorways and staircase railings, and Mary’s efforts at the stove added

to the holiday spirit as their aromas wafted from the kitchen. Carolyn

stood in the wide doorway leading into the living room, where all their

guests gathered around the fireplace. Outside, Miami was quite cool,

which in turn added to the illusion of a winter season. The skyline

across the water was a jewel in its own right, reflecting in the calm

water. A few illuminated boats glided silently across the bay, making it

picture perfect.

“The last of our guests are arriving, Carolyn. Noelle and Helena

are walking up the driveway as we speak.”

“Oh, so that’s actually Noelle singing ‘Silent Night’? I thought

you put her new Christmas CD on.” Carolyn smiled and tilted her head.

In the distance a strong, blues-inspired voice could be heard singing.

“Can you believe that voice?”

“Can anyone? Noelle has shown the world that she can sing

anything. ”

“And Piper?” Carolyn looked around, suddenly alarmed.

“She’s playing with Pamela. Beth is keeping an eye on them, and

she says it’s like they’ve been friends forever.”

“I think we should take turns staying close to her, at least for now,”

Annelie said, still looking concerned. “She looked a bit shell-shocked

at first at the sight of this many people. Perhaps you were right and we

should’ve canceled our plans?”

• 117 •

Breathless

“Actually, I think you were right.” Carolyn brushed her thumb

across Annelie’s lower lip. “This way she sees that life goes on. It

will become part of what’s normal for her from now on. Piper will be

fine.”

“All right.” Annelie took a deep breath. “Oh, look, I think Chicory

Ariose are arriving.”

“Oh, good, they made it.” Carolyn smiled at the thought of the

famous all-women group. “Tell them I’ll be there in a little bit.”

Annelie took the time to kiss Carolyn softly on the lips before she

walked toward the cheerful voices, calling out “Merry Christmas” to

everybody.

Carolyn hid halfway behind a column next to one of the Christmas

trees, spying on the two girls sitting on the stairs together, one auburn

head and one blond close together while looking at something Piper

was holding. The sudden thought that Pamela looked so much like

her, and Piper being the spitting image of Annelie, brought tears to

Carolyn’s eyes. Piper was the image of an angel in white leggings and

a crisp light blue cotton dress that went almost to her knees. Carolyn

knew Annelie hadn’t expected her to pick up something quite so stylish

for a nine-year-old, but Carolyn had claimed that this outfit was much

more Piper than a regular red or green Christmas dress that would

make the child cringe. The fact was, this looked entirely right on Piper,

and the girl’s pink cheeks spoke volumes when she tried it on before

the party.

“Helena and Manon are asking for—oh…” Annelie stopped

behind Carolyn and wrapped her arms around her, resting her cheek

against her wife’s temple. “They look like us.”

“They do, don’t they?”

“Are you crying, Carolyn?” Annelie’s voice took on a tinge of

worry.

“Not really.”

“Liar.” Annelie dipped her head and kissed Carolyn’s cheek.

“Trying to save face at our party.” Carolyn laughed and wiped

quickly at her cheeks where a few errant tears clung to her skin. “She’s

really going to be okay in time, isn’t she?”

“You and I are doing pretty well, and we had similar things to deal

with. I think I can say we have a good insight into what she’s going

through, and that’s half the battle.”

• 118 •

Through the Eyes of a Child

Carolyn agreed. She listened to the two young girls whisper, and

suddenly Piper laughed out loud. “Oh, my. I don’t think I’ve ever heard

her laugh before.”

“Neither have I.” Annelie’s voice caught. “Having Pamela in her

life will make just as much of a difference for her as having access to

either of us.”

“All the better that Beth and Joe are moving to Miami after the

holidays.” Carolyn turned within Annelie’s embrace. “It was brilliant

of you to offer him and Beth the chance of a lifetime.”

“Are you kidding? Key Line Publishing is lucky to get our hands

on Joe’s talents within the IT sector. Remember what happened when

it was time for the first Diana Maddox convention? We drowned in

e-mails from readers. Our system nearly crashed. Not to mention that

Jem nearly had a heart attack before it was sorted. It seems to happen

every time you are involved, be it conventions or movie releases.

Your brother-in-law will be our secret weapon to make sure that never

happens again.”

“He’s over the moon about it, and Beth can’t wait to go back to

nursing.”

“Nurses are always in high demand.”

“It will be easier for both their kids and Piper to acclimatize in a new

school when they already know each other.” Carolyn absentmindedly

rubbed the small of Annelie’s back. “I don’t go on location for another

two months.”

“Your third Diana Maddox movie. Getting tired of it?” Annelie

was teasing her, but Carolyn knew every single nuance of her wife’s

voice and easily detected a faint concern.

“Tired of Maddox? Are you kidding? Playing her is the role of a

lifetime, and you know she brought me to you. How could I ever be

tired of her?”

“I second that.” Annelie kissed Carolyn softly, making her tremble

at the thought of having her completely to herself later.

“They do that all the time. Kissing.” Pamela’s clear voice

interrupted the embrace, and Carolyn turned to look at her.

“You spying, little Ms. Pam?”

“Hardly,” Pamela said with a grin. “You’re standing here

smooching in the middle of the party.”

Carolyn gazed around her, and it was true. Their guests were all

• 119 •

Breathless

within sight, and there was more than one indulgent smile flashed their

way. “Oh, great.”

“That’s what married people do,” Piper said, her little voice

matter-of-fact. “They smooch all day and have babies.”

Faint laughter traveled through the crowd of friends.

Even Annelie laughed. “You’re more right than you realize,

Piper.” She pulled Carolyn close with one arm and Piper with the other.

“Smooching all day, and then we had a baby. You.”

Now the sound of laughter escalated and even Piper grinned

broadly. “I’m hardly a baby.”

“No, not a baby, but a child, at least.” Carolyn cupped Piper’s thin

neck. “And a child who is showing more and more signs of being a true

rascal, I might add.”

This turned out to be a most pleasing comment for Piper, judging

by the brilliance of her smile.

“I propose a toast for this new little family, and to all of us, family

and friends,” Beth said and raised her glass.

“Family and friends,” the guests echoed and raised their glasses

in return.

Carolyn couldn’t imagine ever being happier than she was in that

instant. Standing in Annelie’s embrace with both their arms protectively

around Piper, and only seeing love and acceptance in everybody’s

eyes—surely this was what “utter bliss” meant?

“I love you, Annelie, and I love you, too, Piper,” she murmured

after sipping some champagne.

“I love you, Carolyn.” Annelie quickly kissed her temple.

“Me too, Carolyn.” Piper’s voice was barely audible. “I think I’d

like some smooches, too.”

Overwhelmed by tenderness and hardly able to breathe, Carolyn

bent forward and kissed Piper’s forehead. “Sweetheart.”

A husky voice interrupted the emotional moment. “Merry

Christmas, everybody!”

“It’s Jem!” Pamela jumped up and ran over to the brunette who had

just entered the scene. “And she’s got a big bag of Christmas presents.

How come, Jem?” Pamela’s eyes glittered.

“Ah, you see, I ran into Santa, who said that he was really busy

and needed some help. There are even more presents than these. Santa

says he’s bringing the rest over tonight when we’re asleep.”

• 120 •

Through the Eyes of a Child

“There’s more?” Piper’s wide eyes showed her disbelief.

“You bet. Now, should we place this under the tree, or…?” Jem

looked around, smiling broadly.

“Why don’t you do the honors and hand out some to the kids?”

Annelie walked over to Jem. “I’ll help.”

Carolyn sat down with her glass of champagne, thoroughly

enjoying the scene before her. The children squealed and alternated

between hugging their presents, Annelie, and Jem, who apparently

enjoyed being “Aunty Claus.”

“Isn’t this amazing?” Beth came to join Carolyn. “You’re a mother

again, Carolyn.”

“Guess I am.”

Annelie and Piper looked so much like mother and daughter,

Carolyn had to blink several times to keep the tears away.

“Carolyn—?” Annelie tilted her head questioningly. “Are you all

right?”

“Never better.” Carolyn stood and let Annelie wrap her close.

“And there are even better days to come.”

• 121 •

PJ TrebelhOrn was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest, having

spent the first twenty-eight years of her life in the Portland, Oregon,

area. She currently resides in eastern Pennsylvania with her partner of

fourteen years and their menagerie of pets—six cats and one extremely

neurotic pug/Jack Russell mix dog. PJ enjoys movies, sports, writing,

and reading, though not necessarily in that order. The characters in this

story are from the romance From This Moment On. Her next novel,

True Confessions, will be released in 2011 by Bold Strokes Books.

• 122 •

a christmas Wish

PJ treBelhorn

Katherine Hunter glanced at her watch as she pushed the car

door shut and headed for her porch. Shit, we’re never going

to get everything ready in time. She faltered in the doorway of the living

room, smiling at the cozy site on her couch.

Her lover, Devon Conway, appeared to be sound asleep, one arm

cradling Kat’s one-year-old granddaughter Cathy protectively against

her chest. The baby was sleeping, too, and Buddy, the beagle, was

curled up next to Dev’s feet. Baxter, the gray and white fuzzball Dev

had rescued, had stretched out on Dev’s thighs, as cats often do. Kat

tiptoed over to them and knelt down so she could study Dev’s face.

A year ago at this time, Dev had just been released from the

hospital, and those few weeks right around Christmas had been rough

for both of them. She’d talked Dev into staying with her so that Dev’s

godmother, Sheila, wouldn’t have to bear all the burden of Dev’s care.

She’d taken time away from her veterinary clinic to take Dev to her

doctor’s and physical therapy appointments.

PT had been the hardest part of Dev’s recovery, and more often

than not after those appointments, Dev had been in a foul mood, and

in much more pain than she would ever let Kat believe. But Dev had

slowly recovered, and they’d made her move into the house a permanent

one.

And now, a full year after that horrible night Kat had spent in the

hospital worrying about the two women who were everything in her

life, she and Devon were living together and babysitting little Cathy

whenever they had the opportunity. They were both happy, and life was

finally good again.

As Kat glanced at Cathy, she felt her throat constrict at the

• 123 •

Breathless

memory of her premature birth and the risk it posed to her daughter,

Vanessa. Vanessa and Josh had tied the knot three weeks earlier and

were due to return from their honeymoon in just a few hours. It was

Christmas Eve, and Kat was looking forward to having her family

with her this year. Having everyone in her family healthy was only

one of the wishes she had made for this Christmas. Another was that

Dev would answer in the affirmative to a question she intended to ask

before the night was over.

“Hi there,” Kat said, smiling when Dev’s bright blue eyes

opened.

Dev cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to fall

asleep. She was crying, and I just wanted to lie down with her for a few

minutes.”

“It certainly appears as if you figured out a way to make her stop.”

Kat gently smoothed the baby’s hair. The two of them together were so

beautiful her heart stuttered. She stroked Dev’s cheek. “Do you have

any idea how incredibly sexy you are?”

“Grandmas aren’t supposed to think things like that.” Dev

displayed the slow, sexy grin that had drawn Kat in from the moment

they met.

“Are you trying to tell me you don’t think things like that?”

“I’m not a grandma.” Dev’s arm tightened around the baby when

she stirred slightly. “I’m not old enough to be a grandma.”

“Honey, this right here”—Kat motioned toward the two of them—

“pretty much makes you as much of a grandmother as I am, and believe

me, you’re old enough. My mother was only thirty-seven when Vanessa

was born. And besides that, you’ve apparently bonded with this little

girl more than I have.”

“Jealous?” Dev smiled.

“Not at all. In fact, I’m in awe.”

Kat stood and gently picked Cathy up. Dev stretched, and Buddy

jumped down with an annoyed huff. Baxter, however, simply shifted

his position and stretched out on his back between Dev’s legs. Kat put

Cathy in her crib on the other side of the room, liking the way Dev’s

gaze followed her. When she returned, Dev grinned and put her hands

behind her head. “You’re great with her, you know. I’m not quite sure

what I ever did to deserve you, Devon.”

“I’ve often wondered that very same thing myself.”

• 124 •

A Christmas Wish

Dev moved over and Kat sat next to her on the edge of the couch,

chuckling. “Modest much?”

“Not usually, no.” Dev snaked an arm around Kat’s waist and

pulled her close. “What time is it?”

“After three.” Kat knew she shouldn’t indulge herself in the arms

of her lover because it always led to other things. Things they didn’t

have time for right now. But she couldn’t help it. She kissed Dev’s

cheek. “We have a lot to do before everybody gets here. You still need

to run to the store and get beer, and I need to get the food ready.”

“Cathy and I went to the store right after you left for that emergency

at the animal clinic.” Dev’s voice turned husky, and she moved her

hand up to cup Kat’s breast. Dev’s grin told Kat that her quick intake

of breath had been the response she was after. “We have enough beer,

wine, and assorted alcohol to last us more than a year.”

“I suppose it’s too much to hope that you got the food ready?” Kat

laughed at Dev’s fearful expression.

“You know better than to suggest I do anything in the kitchen

other than fix a leaky faucet.”

“Sweetie, we’re just having cheese and crackers and other

assorted munchies. The only thing that has to actually be cooked are

the cookies.”

“Trust me, I’d probably drop the cheese on the floor and Buddy

would have the runs for the next week.”

Dev smiled when Kat couldn’t help but laugh at the visual. Kat let

herself be coaxed into stretching out on the couch. Baxter scrambled

away as quickly as he could, obviously knowing that things could get

heated whenever the two humans got together like this.

“It’s better for everyone involved if I just stay out of the kitchen,”

Dev said.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Kat’s breath caught in her

throat when she felt Dev’s hand sliding down the front of her jeans.

“Trying to show you how grateful I am to have you in my life,”

Dev whispered, her breath hot in Kat’s ear. “Baby, you have no idea

how much I want you right now.”

“Jesus, Devon,” Kat gasped when she felt the undeniable rush of

arousal course through her. “Honey, it is so not a good time for this.

The baby is here, and we have eight people coming over in a couple of

hours.”

• 125 •

Breathless

“Then promise me we’ll continue this later tonight, after everyone

is gone.”

“I promise. You and me, bedroom, the very second the last person

leaves.”

v

Dev scanned the room for Kat. A minute ago she’d been just a

few feet away, talking to Rick and his wife. Now she was nowhere

to be found. The party was in full swing and everyone seemed to be

having a good time. Hostess duties taken care of, she walked through

the downstairs looking for her lover, but couldn’t find her. Finally, she

went up to their room and stopped just outside their bedroom door.

Kat was at the sliding glass doors, looking out at the falling snow. Dev

leaned against the doorjamb and took a moment to simply watch her.

The lights were out, and she only had the moonlight to see her by. Dev’s

fingers found their way around the small jewelry box in her pocket, and

she felt her heart speed up as the nervousness set in.

It didn’t surprise her when Kat spoke. It was a kind of sixth sense

Kat had developed in the past year. If Dev was anywhere near, Kat

knew it without even looking.

“Are you just going to stand there, Ms. Conway, or are you going

to come hold me?”

“You never need to ask me twice,” Dev said as she crossed the

room. She slid her arms around Kat’s waist from behind and pulled Kat

against her chest, breathing in her faint citrus smell as she closed her

eyes and sighed with contentment. Kat tipped her head back to rest on

Dev’s shoulder.

“You feel so damn good,” Dev murmured, kissing the side of

Kat’s neck.

“I really can’t wait until everyone finally leaves.”

Kat turned in Dev’s arms and rested her forearms lightly on Dev’s

shoulders. Dev’s thigh muscles clenched when Kat’s eyes darkened

with desire.

Kat pushed one hand through Devon’s hair and she pulled her in

for a kiss. Dev parted her lips for Kat, and she couldn’t stop the groan

from escaping when Kat’s tongue slid slowly along hers.

• 126 •

A Christmas Wish

“God, you are sexy as hell.” Kat was breathing heavily. “You take

my breath away.”

“You do incredible things to me, too,” Dev said, her voice hoarse.

She had wanted to give Kat her gift later that night, when they were

truly alone in the house, but this seemed like the perfect time. It really

didn’t seem to matter that there was a house full of people downstairs.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. With everything that I am.”

“Come sit down with me.” Dev pulled away and took Kat’s hand,

leading her to the bed. They both sat, and Dev smiled at the look of

unease on Kat’s face. “Relax. I just want to give you something.”

“We said we weren’t going to exchange gifts until Christmas

morning.”

“I don’t want to wait.” Dev took a deep breath to steady her nerves.

What if Kat said no? She didn’t think she could deal with that. Before

she could talk herself out of it, she went on.

“After Jo died, I had convinced myself that she had been my only

chance at love. Before I met you, I was resigned to spending the rest

of my life alone. I don’t know what you did to me, but you somehow

managed to steal my heart when I wasn’t paying attention. You’ve made

every second of the past fourteen months wonderful.”

“Even the times when you were cursing a blue streak because of

the pain the physical therapist was putting you through?” Kat smiled, a

tear sliding down her cheek.

“Yes, even then, because you were there with me, through every

miserable second of it.” Dev gently brushed the tear away with her

thumb, but another followed. “I don’t ever want to make you cry,

baby.”

“They’re happy tears, Dev. You make me so happy.” Kat placed

a hand on Dev’s cheek, and Dev closed her eyes as she leaned into the

touch.

“You make me happy, too.” Dev caught Kat’s hand and kissed the

inside of her wrist. After another deep breath to calm the butterflies, she

stood and pulled out the jewelry box from her pocket. “Bear with me,

Kat. I’ve never done this before.”

“Dev—”

“Shh,” Dev interrupted, “please let me do this.” She dropped to

• 127 •

Breathless

one knee and opened the box, holding it so Kat could see the ring it

contained. She gained the confidence she needed when Kat placed one

hand on her chest, fingers splayed, and the other covered her mouth.

There were more tears, but Kat just let them fall. “I can’t imagine

spending even one day without you for the rest of my life. Katherine

Hunter, will you marry me?”

Kat laughed, and Dev’s heart dropped at the sound. Kat’s

expression indicated she regretted the reaction, but as far as Dev was

concerned, it was too late. She got to her feet and snapped the box shut.

When Kat grasped her wrist, Dev pulled it away, stuffing the box back

into her pocket. She headed for the door, not entirely sure where she

intended to go.

“Devon, please,” Kat said.

Dev was almost to the hall, but she hesitated long enough for Kat

to reach her. Kat gripped Dev’s shoulder and pulled her around.

“I am so sorry I laughed,” Kat said. “You have to believe I wasn’t

laughing at you. I was laughing at the situation.”

“That makes me feel a lot better.” Dev’s tone was sarcastic, and

Kat winced. “You were laughing because I proposed.”

“If you’ll let me explain, you’ll laugh, too. I know you will.”

Dev finally walked back to the bed and sat waiting for the

explanation.

Kat hurried to the dresser, pulled out a small box wrapped in

festive green and red holiday paper, and held the gift out to her. “I

was going to give you this tonight anyway. This just wasn’t the way I

pictured doing it.”

Dev slowly took the box and unwrapped it. “Is this what I think

it is?”

“Open it and find out.”

Dev opened the lid and gasped when she saw the ring.

“Now do you see why I reacted the way I did?” Kat asked.

“Yeah.” Dev smiled and wiped away a tear. “And you’re right. I

probably would have laughed if you’d given me this before I gave you

mine.”

“Is it safe to assume your answer is yes?” Kat took the ring and

held it, waiting for Dev to offer her left hand.

“Yes.” Dev smiled when Kat slid it on her ring finger. “My answer

to you will always be yes.”

• 128 •

A Christmas Wish

Dev pulled the box out of her pocket again, removed the ring, and

put it on Kat’s finger.

“I love you, Devon.”

“And I love you.”

“I was so worried you’d say no.”

“You were worried?” Dev snorted. “I think Nessa was convinced I

was going into shock when I finally decided on a ring.”

“Nessa knew you were doing this?” Kat somehow managed to

stop the laugh this time. Wait until I get my hands on that kid.

“I needed her help. I wasn’t sure what kind of ring you would want

because you don’t wear much jewelry. I also needed her to convince

me you wouldn’t say no.”

“She helped me pick your ring, too.” Kat chuckled. “I’ve got one

hell of a sneaky daughter. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she planned

all of this.”

“We have one hell of a sneaky daughter.” Dev held up her left hand

to wave the ring in Kat’s face. “She’s started calling me mom when you

aren’t around.”

Kat put her arms around Dev’s neck and pulled her closer for a

kiss.

“Jesus, Kat,” Dev said breathlessly. “I can’t believe the things you

do to me.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, baby.” Kat began to undo the buttons

on Devon’s shirt.

Dev covered Kat’s hands and laughed. “We have guests

downstairs.”

“How can you even think about them right now?” Kat gave a

pretty good imitation of a pout. “They’ll never know we’re gone.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know about you, but I would really hate it if

your little niece walked in here thinking it was the bathroom, only to

find us naked and writhing around on the bed.”

“Our niece.”

“That’s all you have to say? You aren’t worried about things like

that?”

“No one’s going to walk in on us. Everyone’s gone, Devon.” Kat

resumed unbuttoning the shirt when Dev’s hands dropped away. “I

talked to Nessa before I came up here. I told her that when she saw

you come up the stairs looking for me, to make sure everyone left. She

• 129 •

Breathless

knew I was going to propose to you tonight. She was happy to do it—

because she’s exhausted from the honeymoon. I told her she shouldn’t

have planned to come back on Christmas Eve.”

Dev backed away and looked out the window. Dev slowly returned,

letting her shirt fall to the floor. “There are no cars in the driveway.

Everyone really is gone. You tricked me, Katherine.”

“True.” Kat raised her arms, allowing Dev to remove her sweater.

She groaned when Dev’s mouth found her nipple and bit it lightly

through her bra. She held Dev’s head against her with one hand

while reaching back with the other and unsnapping her bra. “Are you

complaining?”

“Never.” Dev watched Kat’s eyes darken with desire.

Wishes really do come true.

• 130 •

• 131 •

lesley daVis lives with her American partner Cindy in the West

Midlands of England. She is a die-hard science-fiction/fantasy fan in

all its forms and an extremely passionate gamer. When her Nintendo

DSi is out of her grasp, Lesley is seated before the computer writing.

Truth Behind The Mask was her first publication with Bold Strokes

Books. She has short stories in Erotic Interludes 2: Stolen Moments,

Road Games: Erotic Interludes 5, and Romantic Interludes 2: Secrets.

A novel entitled Playing Passion’s Game is forthcoming in 2011.

“Christmas in Chastilian” revisits characters from Truth Behind The

Mask.

• 132 •

christmas in chastilian

lesley davis

Poised atop the stepladder, Pagan Osborne leaned with her arm

outstretched.

“Hey! Be careful!” Erith Baylor stood below, her hands wrapped

tightly around the stepladder’s legs, her foot resting on the bottom rung

to hold the steps steady.

Pagan stared down in amusement. “Excuse me? I spend most of

the night traversing up and down buildings suspended only by wire, and

you’re worried I might lose my balance on a stepladder?” She grinned

at the sharp look Erith shot at her.

“I have the utmost confidence in you when you don your Sentinel

suit and watch over the city at night. And I remember all too clearly

how marvellous you are at flying through the air after that time you

jumped off a building with me in your arms.” Her eyes got a faraway

look in them as she obviously recalled that night. Shaking her head, she

gave Pagan a firm look.

“But right here, right now, the fact you are perched upon a

stepladder trying to drape tinsel garlands around the biggest tree I have

ever seen is giving me cause for concern.”

Pagan snorted at Erith’s unusually polite choice of words. “Cause

for concern?”

“You’re freakin’ the hell out of me! There, satisfied?” Erith

grumbled. “Just drape the damn stuff and be done up there.”

Laughing, Pagan carefully fixed the bright gold piece of tinsel

around a high tree branch, then wrapped the rest around the lower

branches. “You can’t just drape the tinsel any old how, sweetheart.

Every piece has to be positioned just right. Believe me, I learnt that

from the master.”

• 133 •

Breathless

“Says who?” Erith asked, tugging gently at the cuff of Pagan’s

jeans.

“So will say the Master herself when she appears,” Rogue

Ronchetti announced as she walked into the room. She stopped in her

tracks, taking in the sight before her. “Great job you’re doing there,

Pagan. Have you untangled the lights yet?”

“No, I thought I’d leave that job for you.” Pagan reached over a

little bit more, conscious of Erith’s sharp intake of breath from below

her, and just tweaked the tinsel into place. She caught Rogue mutter

thanks for getting left with the worst job and then heard a faint tinkle

as the mass of lights was lifted out from the box. Pagan twisted a dial

on her hearing aids so she could hear every single sound. She loved

the tiny noises that the lights made when tangled up with the string of

bells Rogue had tossed in there last year when they had taken down the

decorations. Once again she was grateful that Rogue had fashioned the

aids that helped her hear when her world was usually so silent. Smiling

at the contented feeling spreading through her, Pagan sat down on top

of the stepladder and gazed down at Erith. “You could be decorating the

lower branches, you know.”

“Yeah,” Rogue added, “at least you’d be able to reach those.” With

her back turned, she missed Erith’s glare.

“Just because I’m not as tall as all of you are,” Erith grumbled as

she climbed up a few steps to rest her hands on Pagan’s knees. “Or as

handsome, or dark haired, or so totally gorgeous it blows my mind.”

She caressed Pagan’s cheek and smiled when Pagan planted a kiss in

her palm. “Tell me, why the need for such a big tree? And a real one at

that? It’s going to shed like a bitch!”

Pagan brushed her fingers through Erith’s bright red hair and

thrilled to the softness that tickled her fingertips. “Because it’s just not

Christmas without having a proper tree. You need that pine scent to

fill your nostrils, have to see the lights shining through real branches.

Artificial trees are all well and good, but nothing says Christmas like a

real tree.”

Erith leaned her cheek into Pagan’s hand. “Well, just don’t expect

me to clean up after it when it’s shed its needles all over your floor.”

Her gaze returned to the tree. “I can’t remember the last time my family

had a tree,” she admitted softly.

• 134 •

Christmas in Chastilian

Pagan’s hand stilled in Erith’s hair. “Did you not celebrate?”

Erith shrugged. “Not really. Dad didn’t like to spend money on

anything other than himself, and any decorations we did have usually

ended up being used as a weapon when he’d gotten enough drink inside

him. So I don’t really remember having a Christmas where there wasn’t

some sort of trouble.” She must have read Pagan’s sadness in her face.

“Hey, there’s to be no sad eyes. This year is going to be different.”

“Yes, it is.” Pagan pressed her lips to Erith’s forehead.

Melina Osborne, Pagan’s older sister, walked into the living room

and Pagan whispered into Erith’s ear, “The Master has arrived.”

“Wow, I have to admit I didn’t think that tree would have fit in

here but it has. When you and Pagan brought it home, Rogue, I was

certain you were going to have to cut a hole in the ceiling for it to fit.”

Rogue left the lights and swept Melina into her arms. “I cut a

hole in the floor. We can always cover it with the carpet after.” She

stilled Melina’s gasp with a kiss and grinned at her. “We picked a good

one. It’s going to look beautiful when Pagan gets off her butt to finish

decorating it.”

Taking the hint, Pagan rose and gestured for the lights. “Let’s get

this thing covered, then. Melina, please show Erith how you like your

tree to look.”

Melina guided Erith over to a large box full of all manner of

baubles. “Some of these are years old. We add a few new ones every

year when the older ones start to fade or get broken. Mom and Dad

used to take us to pick new decorations and Pagan would always pick

the biggest and brightest. On our first Christmas without them I wasn’t

sure I wanted to even bother putting up a tree, but Rogue took Pagan to

pick out her new baubles and they came back with a tree. The pleasure

on Pagan’s face made me realise I couldn’t deprive her of Christmas,

too.” Melina gave her lover a tender look. “Rogue told me life goes on

regardless, and family traditions are what keep family together even

when we’re separated.” She wrapped an arm around Erith’s waist and

drew her close. “Later we’ll go shopping for this year’s baubles to hang

on the tree, your baubles, because you’re a part of our family now and

the tradition includes you.”

Pagan’s heart clenched at the joy that coloured Erith’s face. Erith

had suffered under the hands of a tyrannical father and a mother who

• 135 •

Breathless

had been too scared to keep her only child safe. Erith’s father had chosen

the wrong side of the law to fight on, and just a few months previous,

Pagan and her fellow Sentinels had gone up against the Phoenix, the

man Erith’s father had put before his family. Fighting the Phoenix and

his followers had devastated the city of Chastilian and cost too many

lives, but it had brought Erith to Pagan. With the Phoenix dead and

his followers imprisoned, the city was starting to rebuild itself and the

Sentinels had returned to watching over the city at night in relative

peace.

Pagan was grateful that this year would soon be over, closing

the book on what had been a terrifying chapter in Chastilian’s history.

Melina and Rogue unfurled the tiny strings of lights together and

surreptitiously watched Erith carefully wrap a tinsel bower over and

around the tree’s branches, her entire concentration on getting it just

right for Melina. Pagan loved how her family had welcomed Erith.

She couldn’t imagine a better place to be at Christmas than with her

family here in the home they shared. She smiled wryly at herself.

Home. A security specialist shop beneath them, and hidden away in

the lighthouse tower, the eyes of the Sighted who guide the Sentinels

in their tasks.

“You’d get the job done a lot quicker if you’d stop staring at your

girl,” Rogue commented, waggling the lights before Pagan’s face.

Pagan hastily grabbed at the lights, but not before she saw Erith

wink at her. Pagan willed her face not to flame, but Rogue’s snicker

announced that hadn’t worked.

“Pagan, there’s a star in here. Do you want to put that on while

you’re up there?” Erith asked as she dug through the box.

“No, that doesn’t go on until Christmas Eve,” Pagan replied.

“Let me guess,” Erith said. “Another Osborne/Ronchetti

tradition?”

Rogue answered her. “Yes, when everything else is decorated, lit

up and tinselled to within an inch of its life, only then can the star

be placed. It’s the crowning piece to signify the lighting of the star

in the sky. You’ll get used to our strange ways, I promise.” Rogue

unobtrusively held the stepladder still as Pagan worked her way down,

then patted her on the back for a job well done. Pagan beamed at the

silent praise.

• 136 •

Christmas in Chastilian

“I’m finding I like your strange ways.” Erith wrapped her arms

around Pagan’s waist and hugged her close. “Though,” she tugged

Pagan’s short hair, “some of you are stranger than others.”

“I am not strange.” When Pagan pretended to pout and looked to

her family for support, they hastily busied themselves with anything

to hand. Rogue even whistled a Christmas carol off-tune. “Thanks,”

Pagan muttered and picked Erith up off the ground and held her captive

in her arms. “For that, you are so cleaning up the needles when this tree

sheds!” Captivated as always by the bright lights that shone in Erith’s

green eyes, Pagan dipped her head and kissed her soundly. “You’re

going to have a great Christmas,” she promised when she finally drew

back for air.

Still dazzled by the kiss, Erith just grinned at her. “With all the

mistletoe I know Rogue has yet to hang, yes, I think I am.”

v

The weeks before Christmas flew past. Melina gathered reports

from the Sentinels that spoke of Chastilian seeming finally free from

the Phoenix’s chokehold. The police reported that crime had dropped

to its more normal level. The Sentinels didn’t relax their vigilance,

however. Crime bosses didn’t remain dormant for long when one

had been toppled from his seat, but for now, Chastilian was ready to

celebrate the holidays and ring in a very welcome new year.

“Are you actually willing it to snow?” Erith asked softly.

Embarrassed to be caught doing exactly that, Pagan turned away

from the dark sky and regarded her love. “It has to snow tonight, it

would make everything perfect.”

Erith cuddled into Pagan’s side and slipped an arm about her

waist. “Tell me, Sentinel, what could be more perfect than you and I

out in the cold night air—you masked and dressed in some serious sexy

leather,” Erith’s eyes drifted over Pagan’s suit, “and me wishing that

Rogue’s jacket didn’t make me feel like I am wearing oversized handme-downs.” She flapped her arms to show just how long the sleeves were.

Chuckling, Pagan fingered a stray piece of red hair that had

escaped from beneath the black knit cap covering Erith’s head. “I won’t

• 137 •

Breathless

keep you out of the warm for long, I promise. I just wanted to share

something with you. It’s one of my favourite holiday treats.”

Erith stayed close at Pagan’s side as she led them out from the

back of Ronchetti Security and onto the streets, all the time keeping to

the shadows until the shadows from tall buildings provided huge pools

of darkness where they could walk comfortably. Pagan checked around

her then spoke quietly.

“Heading topside, Sighted.”

“We’ll keep the home fires burning.” Melina’s voice was soft in

Pagan’s ear.

Pagan fastened the clip from her utility belt to a corresponding one

on Erith’s borrowed jacket. Satisfied they were secured together, Pagan

pulled Erith close and aimed her wire gun at the building above them.

The soft sound of the wire shooting out barely broke the silence of the

night. Pagan felt the wire grip high above her, and with a quick warning

to Erith to hold on, she pressed a button and they quickly flew up the

side of the building.

“Flying like this with you never gets old,” Erith said, grinning at

Pagan in sheer exhilaration. “Just like so many other feelings I have

with you that I love to relive over and over and over…”

Pagan warmed at Erith’s seductive tone. “You know the Sighted

can hear every word you’re saying, right?”

“She knows all too well how I feel about you. It’s written all over

my face every moment of every day.” Erith snuggled into Pagan’s chest

as the top of the apartment building neared.

Slowing down their ascent, Pagan expertly found the foothold that

would help boost them up onto the rooftop. “Hold tight,” she muttered.

She easily lifted herself and Erith over the small ornate ledge that ran

along the length of the roof, retracted the wire back into her gun, and

unfastened Erith’s clasp. She noticed that Erith kept close to her even

though they were separated. “Are you afraid to be up here?” Pagan

asked, concerned. “I know I don’t usually bring you up this high.”

Erith shook her head. “No. I mean, I’m a little nervous, tall

building, long drop, sudden stop and all, but I know I’m safe up here

with you. I’m safe wherever you are.”

Holding out her hand, Pagan guided Erith over to the far side of

the building. “I know you don’t really celebrate Christmas, and that the

• 138 •

Christmas in Chastilian

religious pageantry, as you call it, goes right over your head.” She lifted

Erith’s chilled hands to brush a kiss across her knuckles. “I understand

all that. For me Christmas is all about family, and you know how

important my family is to me.”

“They’re your world.”

“And you are my everything, now and always.” Pagan took a deep

breath. “You know I love you and that I will protect you until my last

breath.”

“Pagan,” Erith murmured, putting her fingers to Pagan’s lips,

“don’t talk like that.”

Kissing her fingertips, Pagan continued, “I have a present for you,

something I want to share with you here. Before we exchange gifts with

Melina and Rogue tomorrow. This is between you and me, my gift to

you if you’ll accept it.” Reaching inside her jacket, she withdrew an

envelope and handed it over to Erith.

“What? You didn’t have time to wrap a bow around it?” Erith

joked as she opened it up and removed the thick papers. She scanned

the sheets by the light of the moon.

Pagan’s chest hitched at Erith’s startled look.

“Land deeds?”

Nodding, Pagan wrapped her arms about Erith’s waist and read

over her shoulder. “These are the deeds to the vacant lot next door to

Ronchetti Security. I believe it’s crying out for a house where you and

I can live. That way, we can move out of my room above the business

and have our privacy, but we’ll still be just a stone’s throw away from

the lighthouse when duty calls.”

“You’re giving me a piece of land?” Incredulous, Erith’s mouth

opened in surprise. “A piece of land to build a home on?”

“We have family members who can work out the plans to design

it, and ones to build it exactly how we want it.”

In the dark of the night Erith’s sudden tears lit up like diamonds,

sparkling as they fell upon her cheeks. Spinning around, she flung her

arms around Pagan’s neck and hugged her tightly, laughing and crying

all at the same time.

“Do you like it?” Some of Pagan’s nervousness over the enormity

of the gift finally eased.

Drawing back, Erith gave her a watery smile. “It’s only the best

• 139 •

Breathless

present ever!” She tugged Pagan’s head down to kiss her soundly. “A

home of our own, you and me.” She stilled as a thought struck her.

“How the hell are we paying for this?”

Pagan grinned. “The land is paid for. I used my money from the

inheritance I got from my parent’s deaths. I never needed to touch it

before now. Now we just need to mortgage ourselves to the hilt for the

building and then we can wrestle with the payments while we grow old

and grey together.”

Erith laughed delightedly. “God, I love the sound of that. It’s a

good thing I’ve gotten a job with your family now, isn’t it? We’re going

to need steady wages coming in if we’re going to be homeowners.” She

reverently folded up the documents and put them safely back inside

Pagan’s pocket, patting them where they lay. “A home to call my own,

somewhere I can be safe and sound. You’ve just given me the best

Christmas present of my whole damn life.”

“I hope it’s the gift that keeps on giving because I doubt I’ll ever

be able to top it.” Pagan swung Erith’s hands in her own. “So, do you

want to spend forever with me?”

“Yes.” Erith’s answer was swift and sure. She shivered a little as

the chill night air breezed past. “But you could have given me this

surprise at home and gotten the same answer, very likely followed by

lots of kissing where I wasn’t afraid our lips would freeze together.”

Pagan drew Erith along with her to the roof’s edge. “I could have,

but then I wouldn’t have been able to share this with you.” She turned

Erith around so she could see what Pagan wanted her to witness.

Below them the whole city was alight with the golden glow of

homes interspersed with the bright flashes of a multitude of Christmas

lights. The city’s seasonal decorations were all lit up, framing the

buildings in the city centre, edging the parapets, some flashing to a

silent rhythm while others blazed their trails around tall trees as focal

points in every street. Pagan never failed to find the multicoloured

display a delight, not since that first Christmas Rogue had brought her

up this same building and shown her the city alight in celebration.

“Oh my God, it’s so beautiful,” Erith whispered, her gaze searching

as far as the horizon where the lights flashed with tiny pinpricks of

coloured sparkles.

“Merry Christmas, Erith.” Pagan gently kissed her cheek and

• 140 •

Christmas in Chastilian

held her close as they marvelled at the lights sparkling in the darkness

of Christmas Eve. Pagan blinked as something floated past her eyes.

Slowly, silently, the first flakes of snow began to drift across the city.

Content, Pagan hugged Erith closer and watched the city at rest, ever

the Sentinel watching over Chastilian and ever the lover keeping her

sweetheart safe.

• 141 •

cliFFOrd hendersOn is the author of three novels, including Foreword

magazine’s Gold Medal Book of the Year and Lesbian Fiction Readers’

Choice Winner The Middle of Somewhere. The characters for “Holiday

Gnomosexuals” originated in this novel. Clifford lives and plays in

Santa Cruz, California, where she runs The Fun Institute, a school of

improv and solo performance, with her partner of nineteen years. In their

classes and workshops, people learn to access and express the myriad

of characters itching to get out. Her other passions include gardening

and twisting herself into weird yoga poses. Her third novel, Maye’s

Request, will be published in 2011. www.cliffordhenderson.net.

• 142 •

holiday gnomosexuals

clifford henderson

Jameson looked over the rims of his glasses at Buddy Bud down

on all fours by the small refrigerator in the corner. He was

trying to coax a spider into his custom-made spider catcher, a pickle jar

covered in colorful bug stickers. “Come on, you big Bo Bo!” he said,

drumming his stubby fingers on the floor behind the spider. “I’m going

to take you outside so nobody will kill you.”

The tiny black spider didn’t move.

Buddy Bud heaved a frustrated sigh. His thick-framed black

glasses held in place by a neon green sports strap interrupted the slope

of his forehead, and he wore his favorite Dolly Parton T-shirt, so tattered

it really should be tossed into the rag bucket. His jeans rode low on his

hips, revealing the elastic strip of his BVDs.

Lily wouldn’t let him go out looking so ratty, Jameson thought.

She would have found some creative way to get Buddy to make another

choice. Like he’d tried to that morning, only Lily’s method wouldn’t

have ended in Buddy Bud throwing one of his tantrums.

It was the fifth anniversary of Jameson’s wife’s death. The small

upstairs office of Jameson’s Market was covered in Christmas cards.

Left to himself, he wouldn’t flaunt the cards—too painful a reminder—

but Lily’s death had left him the sole parent to their twelve-year-old

son.

Jameson hunched over the oak desk that had once been his father’s

and went back to paying the pile of monthly bills, unable to shake the

feeling that he wasn’t doing right by his son. A grocery store is no

place for a kid to hang out. He tossed his pen on the desk and ran his

fingers through his thinning hair. But what else can I do with him?

• 143 •

Breathless

The small town, smack in the middle of the Texas Panhandle, had few

opportunities for normal kids, let alone ones with Down Syndrome.

And Jameson couldn’t move. The market was his life.

“Dad!” Buddy Bud whined. “The spider’s not doing it right!”

“You might need to try like I showed you.” Jameson didn’t have

it in him to sound patient. He was too damn tired. “Put the jar over the

spider, then slip a card underneath.”

“Nooo!”

Jameson removed his wire-rimmed glasses and pinched the bridge

of his nose. Did Buddy Bud remember his mother’s death? Was that

what was making him so cranky? More likely, he was picking up on

Jameson’s brooding.

“Maybe the spider doesn’t want you watching him. Maybe if you

leave the jar on its side next to him, he’ll climb in all by himself.”

“He’s a she!”

The back of Jameson’s throat tightened. Was all this spider stuff

really about Lily? “Maybe she doesn’t want you watching her.”

Buddy Bud rocked back on his checkered sneakers as if considering

this. “Like yesterday when I didn’t want you watching me tie my shoes?

When I was being a handful?”

Jameson smiled. It was amazing to hear what Buddy Bud retained.

“Exactly. And I’m sorry I called you that.”

Buddy Bud shrugged. “S’okay.” He leaned back over, his face just

inches from the spider, and crooned, “I’m not looking, Mrs. Spider. You

can climb in the jar if you want to.”

Kitty, the youngest of Jameson’s cashiers, poked her hairdo-ed head

into the office, gaudy ornament earrings dangling from her earlobes.

“Mail call.”

Buddy Bud looked up, his face glowing with delight. “More

cards?”

“You bet.” Kitty stepped into the room, revealing an even more

gaudy holiday sweater over creased jeans. “A pile of ’em.”

Buddy Bud reached for the clutch of mail, inadvertently knocking

it from Kitty’s manicured fingertips and scattering letters and circulars

all over the floor. Buddy Bud’s eyes grew wide and his hand flew to his

mouth.

“It’s all right, son,” Jameson said. “But you need to apologize.”

“Sorry, Kitty!”

• 144 •

Holiday Gnomosexuals

Kitty laughed. “No prob, Bud, you was just excited.” She bent

down to help gather the spray of mail.

Buddy Bud picked up a large red envelope. “Hey! Look at this

one! It’s got bugs!”

Kitty took the envelope covered in creepy-crawly stickers. “Well

lookie here. If it isn’t from you-know-who.”

“Who?” Buddy said, looking bewildered.

“Them two what breezed through last summer.” Kitty scowled at

the return address. “Living in California now. Both of ’em. Together.”

“Who?” Buddy Bud repeated, his timbre rising with frustration.

“I think she’s talking about Eadie and Cadence,” Jameson said.

“Eadie and Cadence!” Buddy Bud snatched the letter from Kitty

and held it to his chest. “I love Eadie and Cadence. I’m gonna marry

Cadence when I grow up. Ain’t I, Dad?”

“Aren’t I,” Jameson said.

“Aren’t you what?” Buddy Bud said.

Jameson gave Kitty an apologetic look. He knew it was time to

quit humoring his son’s obsession with Cadence, but he hated to upset

the boy. Still, he should—

“You can’t marry her,” Kitty blurted, then scooped up the rest of

the mail. “She’s a homosexual.”

“A what?” Buddy Bud said.

Kitty glanced briefly at Jameson as if to say, “If you won’t tell him,

I will,” then went on in a schoolteachery voice, “She’s a homosexual,

and you don’t want to mix yourself up with a homosexual. The Bible

tells us they are sinners.”

Buddy Bud stared at Kitty as if she were speaking in tongues, his

face contorted in confusion.

Jameson, annoyed more with his own passivity than Kitty’s

audacity, deliberately shoved his chair back and stood. “That’ll do,

Kitty.”

“I just think he should know—”

“I said, that’ll do.”

Kitty got up off the floor where she had been kneeling and handed

Jameson the mail. “Sorry if I spoke out of line.”

“I appreciate your concern…” Jameson cleared his throat. “But

I’m not sure we see eye to eye on this. Now, I think it’s time for you to

get back to work.”

• 145 •

Breathless

Kitty sniffed her disapproval before parading out of the office.

Jameson, unsure what to do next, just stood there. Buddy Bud,

clearly troubled, was turning the card round and round like it might

somehow help him make sense of Kitty’s words. Jameson examined

his motives for not speaking with Buddy Bud about this matter sooner.

The problem was, he was unsure of his own heart. He’d taken a shine to

each of the girls before they’d gotten together; then, once they became

a couple, well, quite simply, their returning to California took away any

burning necessity to think further on the subject.

A weak man’s excuse.

He walked over to the couch and sat. “Let’s take a look at that

card, Bud. See what your friends are up to.”

Buddy Bud crawled up onto the couch next to him.

Jameson took the card and opened it.

“Look, Dad. It’s hand-drawed!”

It was one of Eadie’s pen-and-inks: she and Cadence riding a

lavender reindeer through a sky full of shooting stars. Eadie had drawn

herself wearing forest green slacks and a flowing white blouse. A Santa

hat, pulled low on her head, forced her black mop of hair to stick out

comically on all sides. Cadence was in a red dress trimmed in white fur,

blue cowgirl boots, and a holly wreath with a tail of ribbons atop her

copper-colored hair, and, of course, her lime green cat’s-eye glasses.

Riding behind, she had her arms tightly wrapped around Eadie’s waist,

her head on Eadie’s shoulder. They looked happy.

Jameson read the caption for Buddy Bud. “May your Holidaze be

full of love and magic.”

Buddy Bud ran a finger lightly across the picture. “It’s sparkly.”

Jameson sighed. He missed the two of them. They were so different

from the young women of Rauston. So spirited. Feisty. He opened the

card and read it out loud.

Dear Buddy Bud,

Santa Cruz doesn’t have near as many bugs as Rauston,

but there are other things here you would like. Seals for one

thing, and lots of fish. Including dolphins. You should see the

way they jump out of the water! I put the rubber snake you

gave me on the dashboard of my car. It looks cool.

Miss you, Needy Eadie.

• 146 •

Holiday Gnomosexuals

Beneath this, Cadence had written:

Hey Buddy Bud,

No sick or injured birds so far, which is lucky.

Who would fix them up?

Miss you. XXXOOOO Cadence

At the bottom in Eadie’s handwriting was a note to Jameson.

Hey Jameson! Miss you, too.

We’re planning to get back out there one of these days.

Maybe around April? (Before it gets too hot. Ha. Ha.)

Love you. E

Jameson decided against reading this part aloud. No use getting

Buddy Bud worked up over a tentative plan.

Buddy Bud grabbed the card. “I love Eadie! I love Cadence!” His

tone was defiant, as if warding off Kitty’s words.

Jameson ruffled Buddy Bud’s short brown hair. “Me too, son, me

too.” He had to address the topic that Kitty had broached, but how? Her

judgmental stance made such a difficult jumping off point.

Lily would have known how.

Buddy Bud let the card drop to his lap. “Um. Dad?”

Jameson braced himself. “Yes?”

“What’s a gnomosexual?”

Jameson couldn’t help but smile. “The word is homosexual,

Bud.”

Buddy Bud rubbed his fists on the sides of his pant legs. “Um…

well…what is one? Is it bad?”

“Nope. But it might be kind of hard to understand.”

Buddy Bud groaned. “O-kaaay.”

Jameson felt like groaning, too. Where to begin? The logistics

weren’t all that difficult to describe, girl loves girl or boy loves boy.

Thankfully, Buddy Bud wouldn’t know enough to ask the harder

questions, like how they consummated their love, which Jameson

himself would be hard-pressed to describe. When it came to Eadie and

Cadence’s sexuality, he simply chose not to think about it. He didn’t

• 147 •

Breathless

think about other people’s bedroom activities, why should he think

about theirs? But now, with Kitty casting this negative light on the girls,

he was going to have to broach the morality of their love, and this got

trickier, because, quite frankly, Jameson had no idea where he stood on

the topic.

He wrapped his arm around his son and forged ahead like a truck

driving with no headlights into a pitch-black night. “The thing is,

sometimes instead of a girl and a boy falling in love, two girls fall in

love, or two boys.”

Buddy Bud stuck his finger up his nose. “Uh-huh.”

“Don’t pick your nose, Bud.”

Buddy Bud wiped his finger on his pants. “Sorry.”

“And when that happens, say, two girls fall in love, like Eadie and

Cadence, well then, they don’t want to marry a boy.”

“Because they want to marry each other?”

“Sort of. Only they’re not allowed to get married.”

“Why not?”

“Well, some people don’t think they should.”

“Why not?”

“Because some people think it’s wrong.”

“Is it wrong?” Buddy Bud asked, his fingers twisting into a knot.

Jameson stared across the office to the picture of a five-year-old

Buddy Bud sitting on his beautiful Lily’s lap. What do I do? he asked

his wife, as he often did when he was flummoxed by parenthood. Tell

the truth, was what he heard her say, although he was never really sure

if it was her sending him the messages or just his idea of her.

“I’m not sure what I think, Bud. But I do know it’s unchristian of

us to wish ill on someone just because they’re different.”

Buddy Bud stretched out his legs and then let them drop back

against the couch. “Like Kitty?”

“Well, yes, like Kitty.” The last thing Jameson wanted to do

was turn Buddy against Kitty. She was just young, and narrow in her

thoughts, a product of her upbringing. “The thing you need to know is,

there are many who pass judgment on people they don’t understand.”

Jameson said this definitively, praying it would be the end of it, that

Buddy Bud would get bored with the conversation and want to go back

to his spider, but Buddy Bud wrinkled his nose, a sure sign that he was

far from done with the topic.

• 148 •

Holiday Gnomosexuals

“But, Dad, that’s stupid!”

Jameson massaged the back of his neck. “How do you figure?”

“Well,” Buddy Bud said, using his grown-up voice, “Mom always

told me that God lives in people’s hearts, right?”

Jameson nodded. “Right.”

“And when you fall in love, that comes from your heart, right?”

“Right.”

“So how could God be mad at a girl falling in love with a girl,

when he’s the one making the love?”

Jameson let out a short, audible exhale. “That’s some quality

thinking there, Bud.”

Buddy Bud held up a thumb. “Quaaaality!” Then he knit his

eyebrows. “But you still haven’t told me what a gnomosexual is.”

“A homosexual is what we call a girl who falls in love with another

girl, or a boy who falls in love with another boy.”

Buddy Bud slipped from beneath Jameson’s protective arm and

stared at him incredulously. “So Cadence won’t want to marry me

because she’s in love with Eadie?”

“Yup.”

Buddy Bud fell over sideways on the couch and grabbed his head

as if he were trying to loosen a giant vise grip. “That’s crazy!”

Jameson wasn’t sure what to make of this declaration. He gave

Buddy Bud’s pant leg a tug. “You okay?”

Buddy Bud giggled then pressed his hand to his mouth and spoke

through his fingers. “Want to know what I just thought of?”

“I can tell you’re fixin’ to tell me.”

Buddy Bud shot back up to sitting. “If Cadence loves Eadie, and

Eadie loves Cadence, and I love them both, then we could all three get

married!”

Jameson pulled his son back into his embrace. “Now you’re being

silly.”

Buddy Bud snuggled into Jameson’s chest. “You’re the bestest

dad ever!”

Jameson’s heart swelled. “I hope so, Bud. I hope so.” He found

himself once again glancing at the picture of Lily. This time it was to

thank her. For giving me this beautiful boy.

“Hey!” Buddy Bud said, twisting around in a panic. “Where’s the

card?”

• 149 •

Breathless

Jameson whipped the card from beneath Buddy Bud’s leg. “Tadah!”

Buddy Bud studied the drawing on the front. “I’m glad they’re in

love.”

“You sure?”

“Yup. ’Cuz I have you to love—and you’re a handful!”

Laughing, Jameson gave his son a bear hug.

“Not so tight!” Buddy Bud squealed.

Jameson released him and straightened out the now skewed thick-

framed glasses. “You can still love them, you know.”

Buddy Bud rolled his eyes. “No duh, Dad.” With that, he slid from

the couch to check on Mrs. Spider.

• 150 •

• 151 •

mJ Williamz is the author of over twenty-five published short stories,

mostly lesbian erotica with a few horror and a couple of romances

thrown in for good measure. Most recently she had a short erotic story,

“Guard Duty,” in the Women in Uniform anthology, which was released

earlier this year. Her first novel, Shots Fired, was released in 2008. Kyla

and Echo from “Making New Memories” first appeared in that novel.

Visit MJ’s website-in-progress at www.mjwilliamz.com.

• 152 •

making neW memories

mJ Williamz

Ithink now would be a good time to open this.”

Echo handed the rectangular package to Kyla, who was

sitting next to her on the bearskin rug. Kyla smiled and shook it.

“Don’t worry. It won’t break,” Echo said.

Kyla reached under the tree and pulled out a long, narrow package.

“And this is your special present from me.”

“Open yours first,” Echo urged.

Kyla started to untie the ribbon, then paused. “Can you believe it’s

been a year?”

“Some days, it seems forever ago, and some days, it feels like it

just happened. I’m so thankful you came out of it all unscathed in the

long run.”

“Overall.”

Echo remembered the horrible day the prior January when a

deranged child molester had shot Kyla in the head and caused her to

roll her car, resulting in short-term amnesia, broken ribs, and a broken

leg. She gestured to the package. “Open.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kyla took off the ribbon and carefully unwrapped

the present that Echo had obviously had someone else wrap for her.

Echo’s skills did not include gift-wrapping. When she removed the top,

she smiled broadly at the red satin teddy with black lace trim that lay

in wait for her.

“Go try it on,” Echo encouraged.

She didn’t have to ask twice. Kyla disappeared into the downstairs

half-bath and quickly changed. She swept her dark blond hair into a

clip and walked out of the bathroom to the appreciative look in her

lover’s dark blue eyes.

• 153 •

Breathless

“Dear God, you’re beautiful.”

Kyla stepped into Echo’s waiting arms and welcomed a soft, tender

kiss. The kiss soon grew more passionate as their tongues tangled,

dancing in a rhythm perfected during years of practice.

“Thank you for putting your hair up,” Echo murmured as she

kissed Kyla’s exposed neck.

“I know how much you like it.” Kyla tilted her head to the side to

allow Echo easier access to the spot at the base of her neck.

“And I know what this does to you.”

“Remember last Valentine’s Day?” Echo kissed the smooth slope

of Kyla’s shoulder. “You didn’t even want to have dinner with me.”

Kyla pulled Echo on top of her on the bearskin rug. “We’ve come

a long way since then.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Echo moved the black lace strap down Kyla’s

arm and kissed the area left bare. Despite having been together almost

twenty years, after the attack they’d had to go back to the beginning

and relearn each other’s bodies. It hadn’t always been easy with Kyla’s

ribs and leg to consider, but finally, they knew each other’s desires and

weaknesses again like they knew their own.

“God, I hope Colton doesn’t come home,” Kyla said.

“Babe, we have nothing to worry about. He’s fifteen and has spent

the last three Christmas Eves at his cousin’s. We’re the last thing on his

mind. Now relax.”

Echo kissed along the edge of the teddy, slowing when she reached

the area just above Kyla’s half-exposed breasts. She licked and nibbled

the pert tops, reveling in the softness of her woman.

Kyla guided Echo’s head to the valley created there, but Echo

gave her one last kiss before biting her way down Kyla’s satin-clad

stomach. When she got below Kyla’s belly button, Kyla was mewing

in anticipation. She spread her legs and gently pressed the top of Echo’s

head, urging her onward.

Echo licked long and hard over the satin that covered Kyla’s

mons, occasionally teasing lower. When neither woman could take

it any longer, Echo rested her head on Kyla’s inner thigh and undid

the snaps that separated her from where she wanted to be. She took a

moment to admire the glistening pussy that called to her, already so

wet with need. She separated the swollen lips and lazily ran her tongue

between them, eliciting a low moan from her partner. She traced Kyla’s

• 154 •

Making New Memories

shaft and circled the head of her clit with her tongue, causing Kyla to

raise her hips and move against her.

Echo laughed, her warm breath caressing Kyla’s clit.

“Easy, baby. We’ve got all night.”

She pushed the teddy over Kyla’s soft belly, trailing kisses as she

did, knowing how tiny kisses right there aroused her. She moved the

teddy up and over Kyla’s waiting breasts and bent to take one erect

nipple in her mouth while twisting and tugging on the other with her

finger and thumb.

Kyla’s fingers were laced through Echo’s hair, her grip holding

her mouth firmly in place. Echo had no intention of moving as her teeth

gently held the upright nub and her tongue flicked across its tip. She

sucked the nipple deeper, taking the tip of Kyla’s breast in her mouth

and running her tongue over it.

“You’re going to leave a mark,” Kyla whispered.

“Who’s going to see?” Echo released her grip and sat up, pulling

Kyla with her. “Help me with this.” Together they got the teddy over

Kyla’s head, and Echo kissed Kyla hard on the mouth. She didn’t

bother to remove her sweatshirt or jeans, but laid Kyla back down and

covered her body with her own. She pressed her knee between Kyla’s

legs, and wetness soaked through her jeans as they moved together,

never breaking the kiss.

Echo propped herself up and caressed Kyla’s body. “I can never

get enough of you,” she whispered.

“I hope you always feel that way.” Kyla frantically pulled at

Echo’s sweatshirt. Once she had it off, she kneaded and fondled Echo’s

breasts as they kissed.

Kyla writhed against Echo’s leg, her frantic movements signaling

she was getting close. Echo nibbled and kissed back down Kyla’s neck

and chest until she reached a hardened nipple once again. She closed

her lips around it and circled the tip with her tongue, causing Kyla to

move faster against her knee.

She slid her hand lower, over Kyla’s belly and down to her smoothly

shaved pubis. Tantalizingly slowly, she dragged her hand back up to

Kyla’s belly button and back down again, stopping just above her clit.

As her hand began another upward path, Kyla said hoarsely, “I

swear to God, Echo, if you don’t touch me soon, I’m going to do this

on my own.”

• 155 •

Breathless

“As much as I’d like to watch that…” Echo gave in and slipped

her hand between her leg and Kyla. She stroked her clit as Kyla closed

her eyes and let out a moan. Echo found Kyla covered in juices and

couldn’t resist dipping her fingers inside. Two fingers slid in easily,

and she moved them in and out quickly several times before adding

another.

“Yes. God, Echo. Please.”

Echo moved between Kyla’s legs. “Put your legs over my

shoulders.”

Kyla happily obliged, and Echo bent to lick her while she thrust

her fingers deeper. She squeezed them together as she drove them

in, then separated them as she pulled them out, all the while sucking

Kayla’s clit and glancing over it with her teeth.

Kyla writhed on the floor, pressing into Echo.

“God, I’m so close.”

Echo began lapping at Kyla’s hardened clit in the same rhythm

as her fingers moved in and out. Kyla bucked her hips against Echo,

keeping time, each buck harder than the one before.

It wasn’t long before Kyla shook from head to toe, screaming

Echo’s name.

When Kyla’s orgasm subsided, Echo held her and whispered,

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

Kyla smiled back. “And now it’s time for you to open your

present.”

• 156 •

• 157 •

Originally from Cuba, ali Vali has retained much of her family’s

traditions and language and uses them frequently in her stories. Having

her father read her stories and poetry before bed every night as a child

infused her with a love of reading, which carries till today. She has

discovered that living in Louisiana provides plenty of material to draw

from in creating her novels and short stories. Ali currently lives outside

New Orleans, Louisiana.

• 158 •

a ghost of christmas Past

ali vali

Are you free later?” Julia Johnson watched her lover Poppy

Valente put on socks. After six months of seeing Poppy

dressed casually with bare feet, she still wasn’t used to this corporate

side of her.

Poppy slipped her feet into her loafers and stood brushing off her

dark navy pinstripe pants. “I’ll be happy to reschedule anything for

you, so give me a time and location, and I’ll be there.”

Going to work was easy now since they’d moved into the penthouse

suite in the Piquant after returning to New Orleans from Carly’s Sound.

For Julia, the move had been a whirlwind that had separated her from

her brother Rayford, who was thriving in his job on Carly’s Sound, and

from her grandmother Tallulah, who’d returned to Texas. Arriving back

at the Piquant made her think of the first stay there, when her future

had appeared so limited and bleak. Of course, a trip for coffee with a

colicky baby had changed her entire landscape.

“If you’re busy, don’t worry about it,” Julia said, smiling when

her daughter Tallulah came crawling in and pulled herself up when she

reached Poppy, who immediately picked her up. Of all the changes in

her life, the most welcome was how much she loved seeing Poppy with

Tallulah.

“I’ll never be too busy for you,” Poppy kissed Tallulah’s hand, “or

for this beautiful girl.”

“It can keep. I just remembered Elizabeth said you two were

finalizing the contracts on the Nice property.”

Tallulah squealed when Poppy tickled her stomach. “You okay?”

Poppy asked as she put Tallulah back on the floor.

• 159 •

Breathless

“I’m fine.” She slid her arms around Poppy’s waist under her

jacket. “Your mom’s coming over later so I can help the crew finish up

the Christmas decorations in the lobby and outside.”

“Are you bucking for a management job?”

“More like I’m trying to wrap up that girlfriend job.” She smiled

as she said it and felt the weight of the ring Poppy had given her, but the

wonderful cocoon of Carly’s Sound was gone. Now she was living in

the city where Poppy’s great love affair with her deceased partner Carly

had started, and everyone in Poppy’s life remembered the “golden

couple.”

“That one you can forget about.” Poppy framed her face before

kissing her. “You’ve been put under long-term contract.” She took her

time on the next kiss and Julia’s concerns melted away—at least until

their lips parted and Poppy left for her office on the third floor of the

hotel.

“I know you love us,” she said to the empty room as she picked

Tallulah up, “but Carly has left a long shadow.” One she figured she’d

live in if she spent her life with Poppy. “But a life without sunlight is

better than one without her. Right, baby girl?”

She spun Tallulah around, getting her to smile, and wished she

could chase her own sadness away as easily.

v

“Are you sure about this?” Elizabeth Johnson, Carly’s daughter

and the CEO of Valente Resorts, placed a stack of papers in front of

Poppy.

“Not really, but I can’t ask Julia to live in the house I shared with

your mother.” Poppy stared at the address at the top of the page, her

mind reeling through the memories she and Carly had made in that

home. Carly’s presence, Carly’s incredible love, had made it home. “I’d

rather it go to you than put it on the market.”

“I want you to be happy.” Elizabeth hugged Poppy from behind.

“And I don’t want to take something you love away from you.”

“I’ll visit when I miss our furniture, and remember that I’m giving

it to you, so stop feeling guilty. Who knows,” she took a deep breath

and signed in all the required places, “maybe with a bigger place, you’ll

have room for Susanna and all your shoes.”

• 160 •

A Ghost of Christmas Past

“We’re not to that point yet,” Elizabeth said softly. “I don’t want

to rush anything since we work together as well.”

“Lizzie,” she said, putting her pen down and opening her arms to

hold her. “You’re brilliant at what you do, but you need to separate the

different parts of your life.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can structure the business so it eliminates problems before

they arise, but you can’t do that in your personal life.” She led Elizabeth

to the leather sofa in the corner of the office and sat with her arm around

her. “The only things you can do to avoid total catastrophe is to be

faithful and love with total abandon.”

“Is that why Mom always looked so happy?” Elizabeth’s eyes

shimmered with unshed tears. “She never looked happy until you came

into her life.”

“Your mama was a unique woman who loved your father, but

eventually her trust in him was broken, and sometimes, no matter the

time and effort, that can’t be repaired.” She combed Elizabeth’s hair

from her face. “When she lost that trust, she found her happiness in

you and your siblings. Carly Valente was a magnificent partner, but her

legacy is you. The happiness you saw was always there even before I

came into her life. She always told me motherhood nurtured her soul.”

“You can admit you had a lot to do with what brought her joy.”

“I’m not a genius, but I was smart enough to know what a gift

she was.” Poppy stared at the picture on her credenza next to the one

of Julia and Tallulah—Carly sat on a bar stool in the bar she regularly

played in. The expression on Carly’s face was to her the definition of

love. “She filled my life so completely that I couldn’t imagine my life

without her in it.”

“I never could figure out Daddy’s behavior, but Mom got what she

deserved before she died.”

“Thanks for saying that. I want you to feel that way about yourself.

You deserve someone who’ll make you happy and fill all those empty

places in your heart, but to get that you have to be willing to take a

chance.” She kissed Elizabeth’s forehead and hugged her. “Take your

mom’s example in that. Even if it doesn’t work out, fate gives you more

than once chance. If Susanna is it for you, we’ll figure out something

so work doesn’t become an issue. And if she hurts you, I’ll find some

place in Siberia for her to transfer to.”

• 161 •

Breathless

“Sus hates the cold,” Elizabeth said, laughing.

“She’ll be fine as long as she’s sure about what she’s doing, and

what the consequences of hurting you are.”

“Don’t threaten her.” Elizabeth pointed at her. “Promise me she’s

not going to make this decision based on fear.”

“If she’s smart, she’ll work hard to get this right because of the

girl, and how lucky she is you’re interested. Just remember to set your

heart free and it’ll make all this worthwhile. The job, the real estate…

all of it is better enjoyed when you share it with someone you love.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” Elizabeth said, giving Poppy a squeeze.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, and your mom was right.”

“About what?”

“She left behind a beautiful legacy who now brings me joy. And if

you want my advice, I think Susanna is a good choice.”

“Remember your promise, though. No threats.”

“As long as she behaves, I swear,” Poppy said, tapping over her

heart.

v

Julia hurried to the elevator, needing to get away after

unintentionally overhearing Poppy discussing Carly with Elizabeth.

She filled my life so completely that I couldn’t imagine my life

without her in it.

She couldn’t pretend to be surprised. She’d said yes without

hesitation when Poppy had proposed, with full knowledge of Poppy’s

past. Hearing Poppy describe Carly like that didn’t change her mind

about staying, but Poppy’s feelings cemented her fear of always being

the runner-up. She thanked the doorman when he opened the door that

led out to the valet car entrance.

“Julia.”

Julia stopped and regarded the elegant older woman standing next

to the open door of a Town Car with a smile that made her smile back.

“I’m sorry,” she said when she didn’t recognize the woman right

off.

“Nothing to be sorry for, sugar, since it’s me who should apologize

• 162 •

A Ghost of Christmas Past

for taking so long to come and introduce myself. I’m Emily St. Claire,

and your Poppy did a wonderful job of describing you. She’s right, you

are beautiful.”

Emily St. Claire, the grande dame of New Orleans society. The

story of Poppy and Carly’s tango and the start of Poppy’s long and

close relationship with Emily popped into Julia’s head. One too many

memories of Poppy and Carly, and in the next instant, she was crying.

“I think lunch is in order.” Emily slid her arm around Julia as if

she wasn’t sobbing and guided her into the car.

Fortunately, Emily’s driver headed uptown past the mansions of

St. Charles Avenue at a pace that allowed her to try to get over her

embarrassment while focusing on the great craftsmanship most new

construction didn’t have.

Julia wiped her eyes with the tissue Emily had given her and said,

“Mrs. St. Claire, I’m so sorry—”

“Julia, call me Emily, and don’t apologize for giving your emotions

an outlet.” The driver took a left and stopped in front of Commander’s

Palace restaurant. “I spoke with Poppy after you three returned from

Carly’s Sound. One thing I heard in her happy tale was the absolute

lightness of her voice. Poppy Valente is happy again, and it’s because

of you.” The driver stood outside the car but Emily made no move to

get out. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that happiness that she

always had in abundance.”

“She was in love then.”

“She’s in love now,” Emily said, tapping on the window. “Come

on, let’s take a walk first.”

Julia buttoned her jacket, feeling considerably underdressed next

to Emily.

“The place we’re going, they won’t care about the jeans, trust

me,” Emily said.

Julia took the arm Emily offered and followed her across the street

to the entrance of a cemetery that was full of what looked like small

brick houses all painted white. Emily led her down a few rows, stopping

at a modest grave topped with a family name she didn’t recognize. The

newly added bronze plaque had Carly’s name on it with the appropriate

dates, and the words, “Wife and Mother.”

“Her ashes are where she wanted to be.” Emily sat on the bench

• 163 •

Breathless

across from the tomb and patted the spot next to her. “On that island

and in the waters she shared with Poppy is where her spirit will live on,

but Elizabeth wanted something more permanent to mark her mother’s

memory. She buried that little tin Carly found for herself.”

Sitting beside Emily, Julia looked down at her hands, her focus on

the ring Poppy had given her. “I didn’t know.”

“Neither does Poppy. Elizabeth did it before Poppy came home.

She put the last physical link to her mother in with her grandparents

and hasn’t wanted to tell Poppy. I imagine she thinks Poppy has borne

enough pain for ten lifetimes.”

Julia gazed up at the plaque again, and it made Carly as real as

she’d ever been to her. “Why are we here? Do you want me to tell

Poppy about this?”

“Poppy is important to me, so I want us to become friends. Since

you’re important to her, I assume you must know about Carly.”

“I asked Poppy about her,” Julia said, not knowing how to

continue.

“The other woman, huh?” Emily teased.

Julia laughed at how perceptive Emily was. “The perfect other

woman. There’s no way to compete.” Mortified, she stopped talking.

If Emily’s intent was to set up a trap for her, she’d walked into it

effortlessly. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m a horrible person, talking

ill of the dead.”

“You’re honest, my dear. Never apologize for that. It’ll be the only

way to keep Poppy, and from our friendship all these years, I know she

isn’t one for games. But don’t waste your time thinking about Carly

and what was. That will drive you mad. Think instead of what a special

person you must be to have driven the hermit from her cave.” Emily

took her hand as if to be of comfort.

“What did you think of Carly?”

Emily took so long in saying something, Julia thought it was the

most polite way not to answer the question. “I’m sorry, you don’t have

to—”

“Carly was a woman who for too many years just went through

the motions of her life—daughter, wife, mother, and volunteer. As if

she knew what was expected of her, and that’s what she delivered. She

did it with such ease and grace that some envied her life. They envied

• 164 •

A Ghost of Christmas Past

the window dressing, but I dug deeper because she was my friend.

Carly was one of those rare individuals who people gravitate to, and it

was unfortunate that for someone who could’ve had her pick, her first

choice was Thomas.”

“Matlin and Kelly told me a little about him,” Julia said when

Emily stopped to take a breath.

“Now that you’re here, I’m sure you’ll get around to meeting

Thomas. Myron and I attended their wedding all those years ago and

it seemed like a perfect match. He was charming, ambitious, and good

looking.”

The parallel between the man Emily was describing and Poppy

jumped out so she couldn’t stay quiet. “Sounds like the perfect mate.

Actually it sounds like someone I know and love.”

Emily laughed and shook her head. “Don’t make that mistake,

dear. It’s true your love is all those things, but her ambition is different

from Thomas’s. Poppy’s ambition is for everyone she comes in contact

with, whereas Thomas’s drive is fueled by finding ways to enrich only

himself. Carly’s first marriage became a struggle for control, and he

tried every trick he could think of to break her.”

“Doesn’t sound very pleasant,” Julia said softly.

“It wasn’t, and I’m sure Thomas will have much to explain for

his actions when he meets his maker. But he didn’t control her as much

as he thought. There was never any fire in Carly’s eyes, and her smile

never went past her lips. She was good at pretending she was happy,

but she never really was. Then the impossible happened. She left him,

and the reasons why made the rumors epic even in a town like New

Orleans. The stories were dying down and then the real golden couple

came back to town.” Emily made air quotes for the moniker. “Carly

came home to prove the stories true, a young lover with a passion for

life and an even bigger passion for her. As a bonus, it didn’t hurt that

Poppy had become successful in the resort business.”

“I heard about the tango and your party.”

“Ah, Matlin and Sabrina. The part I’m sure they left out was the

guts it took to face those who’d had so much fun talking about her.

The elite had only heard Thomas’s side of the story, but that night

Carly Valente showed those ninnies who she really was. Even the mask

couldn’t hide it.”

• 165 •

Breathless

“What?”

“The fire in those green eyes. The only thing brighter in the room

that night were Poppy’s when she looked at her.”

“Thank you, Emily. I feel so much better now,” she said,

laughing.

Emily joined in as if knowing what she’d found so humorous.

“Believe it or not, there’s a point to telling you all this besides answering

your question.”

“What, to prove my assumption Carly was perfect is right on

target?”

“Julia, an old friend called on me a few weeks ago, and there was

something very different about her but also something familiar. The

eyes, Julia, those gorgeous blues never lie when it comes to the way she

feels. For Poppy, her eyes are truly the windows not only to her soul but

to her heart. I’m so happy my prediction was wrong.”

“What’s that?”

“I always figured Poppy would eventually find someone she could

spend her life with. But while you spend time and money, you share a

life. There’s a difference. My father was a bit of a gambler, and he was

fond of one saying: It only takes losing everything once to make you

wise to the games of chance. Smart gamblers always hold something

back so they never truly get burned, and Poppy’s smart. When I looked

at her I saw the hand she was holding.”

“I guess I’ll always get to hear about how she was and settle for

that.” Julia tried not to show how much that hurt but couldn’t stop her

lips from quivering.

“Julia, in my opinion, you’re sitting at the table with someone

who’s pushed all her chips back into play. There is no woman alive or

dead who can beat your ante now, girl.”

“Thank you,” Julia said softly. Maybe, maybe it was time for her

to step out of Carly’s shadow.

v

Poppy, holding Tallulah in her arms, watched the Town Car pull

up in front of the Piquant, grateful the doorman had overheard Emily

and Julia say they were going to lunch earlier. She opened the door for

• 166 •

A Ghost of Christmas Past

Julia, kissed her cheek as Julia climbed out, and passed the baby into

her arms.

“You look like you had a good lunch,” Poppy said. Julia seemed

more relaxed than she had earlier.

“I did,” Julia said as Emily’s car drove away. “Are you busy

now?”

“I’m all yours for whatever you have in mind.” Poppy took Julia’s

hand. “And I do mean that…I’m all yours.”

“I know, and I’m sorry I’ve been acting like a nervous cat lately.

There’s something I’d like to show you.”

“Then lead the way.”

“We’ll need to take the Jeep.”

Poppy drove, following Julia’s directions, and pulled up in front

of the pinkest house she had ever seen. She rested her elbows on the

steering wheel and just stared. Please God, let pink not be her favorite

color. The sound of Julia unbuckling Tallulah’s car seat snapped her out

of the visual stimulation overload.

“It has four bedrooms plus a great master suite, and wait till you

see the yard,” Julia said enthusiastically as they walked across the

lawn.

Poppy regarded the large flock of plastic pink flamingos in the side

yard, thinking of the papers she’d signed that morning giving Elizabeth

the house that was only a block away.

A very cheerful real estate agent waited on the porch. “Ms. Valente,

I’m Georgia Easel with the Western Group. Want to step inside and take

a look around?”

Not really, but I think my vote is severely limited here. Poppy shook

Georgia’s hand and smiled, hoping it looked sincere. “I’d love to.”

Julia stopped right inside the door. “I know you already have a

house here, but when we talked about what came next, you said maybe

we could start fresh in someplace that would be ours. If you’re not

ready for that, I’ll be okay with staying at the Piquant as long as you

need to, so don’t think this is something I’m forcing on you.”

Poppy blinked. The deep purple of the foyer made the outside

color look good. The adjacent living room was a shade of red that only

looked good on cars and lipstick. Not the response Julia was after,

apparently.

• 167 •

Breathless

“Is something wrong?” Julia asked.

“You love this place, huh?”

Julia handed the baby over as if trying to decipher her question.

“You can’t hate it already, we just walked in.”

“I don’t hate it. I’m just asking if you like it.”

“Are you kidding? This place’s great. Come on and I’ll show you

why I think so.”

The back room Julia led her to had been used by the owners

as a family room. Large windows afforded a great view of the pool

surrounded by what appeared to be thousands of cactus plants. Beyond

that was a large overgrown patch that led out to Audubon Park.

Poppy stopped blinking and squinted, since she was now having a

hard time adjusting her eyes to the combination of sun streaming in the

windows and screaming bright yellow walls. Even the baby buried her

face against her shoulder for relief.

“Ms. Easel, could you excuse us a moment, please?” Julia asked,

prompting Georgia to head to the front of the house. “You hate it, don’t

you? You can be honest, honey. I don’t want you to be miserable for the

next sixty plus years.”

“It’s just that it looks like Sherwin Williams threw up in here. I

don’t know if you’ve noticed, but white’s my favorite color. And all

those prickly plants out there wouldn’t be safe for Tallulah.”

“What’s the matter, honey, pink’s not your color?” Julia turned

Poppy away from the windows and looked her in the eye. “Honey,

I’m not moving into a house that has more colors than a crayon box,

and you’re not acting any differently than I did when I first walked

in here. My one salvation is Susanna was with me to point out the

potential buried under the rainbow—like the great floors and molding

the original builder put in. As for the yard, imagine a canopy starting

from the house extending over half the deck. The shade would make

this room bearable in the mornings. And a big bulldozer to knock down

all the cacti. You have to remember you’re getting a landscape architect

in the bargain, and I’m not a big fan of cactus either.”

“How about the outside color?”

“White happens to be my favorite color, too, in houses anyway,

and we’ll have a party to set the flamingos free if we decide on this

place. Since I’m so nice I’ll let your lack of faith in my tastes pass this

• 168 •

A Ghost of Christmas Past

one time.” Julia reached up and kissed Poppy until a small pudgy hand

slapped the top of her head. “Now stop looking at the walls and let’s

go upstairs.”

Julia’s choice wouldn’t require near the work Poppy’s first house

had needed, so they signed a contract of intent and gave Georgia a

check along with their bid. Just the look on Sabrina’s and Matlin’s

faces when they saw the decorating nightmare would almost make the

purchase worthwhile.

“Thank you,” Julia said on their way back to the Piquant. “You

sure made that easy.”

“Buying’s easy, but the easiest part is making it a home with you

and Tallulah. I should be thanking you for giving me everything I didn’t

even realize I needed. And a house was high on my priority list since I

gave one away this morning.”

“You gave your house away?”

“Elizabeth will be happy there, or at least I hope she’ll be as happy

as Carly and I were when we lived there. You and I deserve some place

where we can start making our own memories.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby, but I know a group of people who’ll adore

you maybe as much as I do.”

“Who?” Julia asked.

“Think how much the neighbors are going to love you when the

paint crew arrives carrying buckets and buckets of white.”

v

A week later Julia stood in front of the full-length mirror in their

bedroom at the Piquant checking the fit of the formal gown she’d

picked for the annual Christmas Ball, a charity event to benefit the

Carly Valente Trust Fund. In only a short period of time she’d learned

to ask, and had received much more than a house. It was like Poppy

had come alive making plans for the future, a future she wholeheartedly

wanted with her and Tallulah.

Emily had been right in that Poppy would never forget Carly, but

the only one who’d had a hard time separating the past from the present

was her. A wasteful mistake she wasn’t about to repeat.

• 169 •

Breathless

“I’m so sorry we never met,” she said to Carly, moving to the

main room. “Though if you were still here, Poppy wouldn’t have given

me the time of day.” She laughed but knew how true that statement was.

“I owe you a debt for teaching her how to love as completely as she

does, so the part of her heart that’ll always belong to you will be taken

good care of by the part that belongs to me.”

The verandah door flew open just as the elevator doors did and

she could’ve sworn she heard the words “You’re so very welcome” in

the wind. The voice sounded a lot like the one in her head when she’d

picked Carly as Tallulah’s middle name.

She shook her head as she closed the verandah doors and turned

at the sound of Tallulah’s laughter. Smiling, she took in the mutual

admiration society made up of her partner and daughter. Tallulah was in

her reserved spot in Poppy’s arms listening to her sing, laughing when

long fingers would tickle her as she finished up a verse.

“Mama,” Tallulah said when she saw her.

Poppy stared. “Wow.”

“You like it?”

“I love it, but looking at you may make me forget how to dance.”

Poppy put Tallulah on the floor and stepped closer to Julia.

“Let’s hope not because I’ve been looking forward to this, and it’s

for a good cause.”

After they arrived and were seated with their closest friends, Julia

started to relax and enjoy the event. No one was dancing yet even

though the band was playing.

“Darling, care to get the evening rolling for us?” Emily asked

Poppy. “I’ve been resting my knee for long enough, and while our usual

waltz is a few months away, I thought you’d give me an early Christmas

present and dance with me.”

Trying not to look disappointed, Julia watched Poppy walk

toward the bandstand to make her request. Poppy looked fantastic in

her tuxedo with a red vest and bow tie that matched her dress. She had

thought about Matlin and Sabrina’s story and had hoped to share her

own special moment with Poppy when the opportunity presented itself,

but couldn’t begrudge Emily her fun.

“May I have this dance?” Poppy’s question interrupted her

spiraling self-pity.

• 170 •

A Ghost of Christmas Past

“Aren’t you going to waltz with Emily?” Julia realized they were

now the center of attention.

“In a little while, but now I want to dance with you. It’s considered

rude to dance the first and last dance with someone other than the

lady you came with. It’s the rule of the South,” Poppy said. The band

continued playing the soft background music as if waiting for her and

Poppy to step onto the dance floor. Poppy sat next to her and leaned in

to continue their talk when she didn’t take her hand. “You know what

else is rude?”

Julia shook her head and tried to control her emotions.

“To have you live one more minute with a picture in your head of

me doing something but with a different woman in my arms, even if

I loved her with all my heart, especially when I’m in a position to do

something about it. Would you like to make new memories with me?”

“I’d love to.”

Standing again, Poppy bowed at the waist and offered her hand.

“May I have this dance?”

Dancing the tango with Poppy was like a musical seduction.

Feeling Poppy’s body pressed up behind her made her completely

forget she didn’t really know how to dance the tango. Poppy’s lead was

easy to follow, and she gave silent thanks that the bodice of her dress

was a little snug, effectively hiding her response to her lover’s embrace.

When Poppy splayed her fingers on her stomach and pulled her closer,

her nipples got hard and she was ready to head upstairs. By the end it

was a godsend Poppy was strong, since she was the only thing keeping

her upright.

“Promise me we’ll do that again real soon.”

As an answer Poppy dipped her head and kissed her.

v

Two days later on Christmas morning Poppy watched as Tallulah

ripped open presents, laughing whenever she was able to tear another

piece off the pile of boxes Poppy had gotten her.

“Mama!” Tallulah waved a scrap of wrapping at Julia.

“Your mama needs to open her gift.” Poppy handed Julia a flat

present.

• 171 •

Breathless

Julia removed the wrapping and laughed when she saw the

calendar. “A gag gift?”

“If you open it to the day we met, you’ll see why you’ll need that

this coming year.” Poppy leaned back against the sofa.

Julia flipped to the right month and stared at what Poppy had

written. “Honey, you don’t have to do this. What we have, and what

you’ve given me already, is enough.”

“The property in Nice comes with an adjacent estate that’s about

six hundred years old. Along with the house, there’s a chapel the family

owned, and on our first anniversary that’s where we’ll get married.

We’re going to do that with all our friends and family in attendance so

they can hear me tell you before God how much I love you and how I

intend to grow old with you and our children. I also promise I’ll wear

shoes, and there’ll be no sand until we start the honeymoon.”

“Thank you for loving me.” Julia held out her gift to Poppy. “And

thank you for opening your heart to the possibility of sharing your life

again. Merry Christmas.”

The ring inside was similar in width to the one Carly had given

her, but very different in design—the bark of a palm tree appeared to be

etched into the platinum. She held it up to the light to see the inscription

inside: With all that I am, until the last sunset.

When she looked at Julia again she couldn’t get a word out around

the lump in her throat but it didn’t matter. Julia moved to her lap and

kissed her. They were celebrating their first Christmas together, but

they’d already shared the best gift when they’d fallen in love months

before.

v

Carly stood on the terrace, watching Poppy share the special day

with her family. This time she left the doors closed, not wanting to

disturb the moment, feeling a sense of peace that had eluded her from

the moment she died. That serenity came from knowing that Poppy

was healing and that Elizabeth was waking up in her new home with

Susanna. Both her lost lambs had found a home and people who would

love them as much as she had.

“Merry Christmas, Poppy. I’ll love you always,” Carly whispered.

• 172 •

A Ghost of Christmas Past

She waved at Tallulah, who was looking right at her. “Take care of them

both, Tallulah, and enjoy the life your parents will give you and the

little brother who’s waiting to join you. I’ll visit from time to time and

will always be looking out for you all.”

• 173 •

lisa girOlami has been in the entertainment industry since 1979.

She holds a BA in Fine Art and an MS in Psychology. Previous jobs

included ten years as a production executive in the motion picture

industry and another two decades producing and designing theme

parks for Disney and Universal Studios. She is also a counselor at a

gay and lesbian mental health facility in Garden Grove. This short

story revisits characters Mary and Beth from her novel, Run To Me.

Her other novels include Love on Location, The Pleasure Set, and Jane

Doe (forthcoming, 2011). Lisa currently lives with her partner, Susan,

in Long Beach, California. Her website is http://LisaGirolami.com.

• 174 •

Beautiful Burden

lisa girolami

Two loud yelps sounded from the station alarm. Mary Walston

and Tomas Quinones dropped their wooden spoons and Mary

turned off the oven. The Christmas Eve cookies would have to wait.

“Attention, engine five. Respond to a fire at one-seven-zero-zero

Mariposa Street.”

Mary sprinted down the stairs, two at a time. Tomas was right

behind her as they joined the rest of the crew on the first floor. Most

of their squad was already pulling on the gear that was positioned, as

always, in a neat row along the floor in front of their lockers.

“Attention engines six, ten, and fourteen. Respond to a fire at one-

seven-zero-zero Mariposa Street.”

Their fire engine started up, its loud rumble reverberating off the

walls of the garage as the roll up door lifted rapidly. Mary stepped into

her pile of gear, pulled it up, and buckled it quickly. A cold, sharp gust

of December wind caught in her lungs and she gasped. She grabbed her

helmet from the shelf above and threw on her bulky, protective jacket.

The captain rushed by Mary as she climbed onto the fire engine.

“Shit,” he said in his usual controlled tone, but his underlying

anxiousness hung in the air like strong cologne. Mary’s pulse

accelerated. This multiple-engine call was not going to be for a small

cooking mishap or an overheated space heater.

v

Beth knew it was silly to have the Chipmunks Christmas CD

playing while she cooked dinner, but it always put her in a cheery

• 175 •

Breathless

holiday mood. Mary would walk in the door after her shift was over

and tease her about it. She smiled. Mary was off work at six and they’d

have Christmas Eve as well as Christmas Day together. After opening

presents the next morning, they planned a five-mile run through Golden

Gate Park and could hopefully spend the rest of the holiday in bed. The

television was on in the family room, tuned to the five o’clock news so

she could catch the weather report for their run.

While Alvin sang of wanting a plane that loops the loop, Beth

mixed the salad and checked the steak that was marinating. Over the

harmonization of Chipmunk voices, the television news anchor said,

“five-alarm fire in Potrero Point.”

She dropped her kitchen towel and hurried to the family room.

News cameras were already on the scene, and the television

images showed an industrial building completely engulfed in flames.

The news station switched to their helicopter’s aerial view and the true,

immense involvement of the fire became terrifyingly evident.

Beth’s heart lurched painfully. Since they had been together, Mary

had rarely gotten home late from her shifts. Sometimes she had to stay

over to wrap up a fire call or to attend a station house meeting, but Beth

had never worried much. This fire, however, was enormous; its hunger

overwhelmed the old-looking structure that was already buckling from

the assault.

The ground camera panned across the line of fire engines. Number

fourteen, number six…maybe Mary’s engine wasn’t…number five. An

ominous dread spread through Beth, paralyzing her where she stood.

The love of her life was somewhere in the midst of an all-consuming

firestorm.

v

Mary and Tomas attained access to the roof on the eastern side of

the building. They needed to ventilate the building of smoke, heat, and

any gases so the interior team could better search for any occupants.

She found the scuttle hatch that was farthest away from their ladder.

They’d start there and work their way back.

The roof access room, a small shack only as wide as its door, was

close to their entry point. Mary checked for heat and, not feeling any,

• 176 •

Beautiful Burden

turned the doorknob. She cracked the door open and a light amount

of smoke filtered out. She opened it wide and looked down the stairs.

Seeing no fire, she and Tomas made their way to the far hatch on the

western side of the roof. When Tomas radioed and got the go-ahead,

they opened the hatch.

A vertical column of searing smoke jetted through the opening

and Mary jerked her head away from the singe of radiated heat. “I don’t

see any flames.”

Suddenly, an enormous explosion behind them shook the roof.

They dropped to their knees and shielded their facemasks.

The cover of the middle scuttle hatch had exploded and a five-foot

spiral of fire erupted from the opening. A surge of adrenaline rushed

through Mary’s veins. The fire could be right underneath them.

Tomas grabbed her arm. “Let’s go.”

They had taken four steps toward the ladder at the other end of

the warehouse when the roof around what was left of the middle hatch

cracked loudly. The fire seemed to have arms that reached up through

the opening, flailing around, looking for something to grab. There were

two more loud cracks and the hatch collapsed into itself, falling quickly

into the blazing hole. The center of the roof shuddered and groaned.

“Fuck,” Mary yelled.

Tomas ran to the closest edge. “It’s too far to jump.”

“We’re going.” Mary cocked her head toward the ladder.

Tomas nodded.

v

Frozen in front of the television, Beth switched back and forth

between the two local stations covering the fire. They kept showing

the same damn footage of the commotion around the building and kept

repeating what little they knew about the contents of the warehouse and

those inside. Her future and her life were being played out on fifty-two

inches of high-definition plasma.

“Talk to the goddamned fire chief! Get a report of what the hell is

going on!”

Tears of fear and frustration burned the corners of her eyes.

“Report what the fuck is going on!”

• 177 •

Breathless

Her cell phone rang and she grabbed it from her waist holster. A

bolt of fear ripped through her. The call might be from the station about

Mary.

“Beth.” It was Alder, the woman who had introduced her to

Mary.

“Alder, are you watching TV?”

“That’s why I called, honey.”

“Shit. I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re doing exactly as you should. Stay right where you are,

right where Mary can contact you when this is over.”

“But what if she doesn’t call? What if it’s because…”

“She’ll call. You need to take a deep breath.”

“I’m scared to death, Alder.”

“I know. And it sucks. You know this is part of being the wife of

a firefighter.”

“I just want her home with me.”

“She’s trained for this. It’s her job, Beth.”

“I know. It’s her career, actually. And that’s what makes me love

her so much. She’s so passionate about firefighting and every time I see

it in her eyes, I fall in love with her again. But I’m freaking out a little

here.”

The newscaster reported a firefighter had been injured, but no

details were available yet as to the person’s identity.

“Oh, God, Alder.” She gasped and began to cry. “I love her so

much.”

Beth wanted to close her eyes and block out the fiery images but

couldn’t.

v

“Go, go, go!” Tomas was right behind Mary as she ran toward the

ladder.

She kept her eyes on the giant hole ahead of her, which looked

like the hideous mouth of a subterranean monster gulping at anything

nearby. In five more strides, she was upon the hole, staying far to the

left to avoid the unstable roof fragments at the edge of the breach.

That’s when she felt shaking underneath her feet.

• 178 •

Beautiful Burden

Another explosion threw Mary to her knees. A second scuttle

hatch, the one closest to their ladder, had just ripped apart. Fire shot

from its mouth as well.

“Tomas, are you okay?”

He was also on his knees. “Yeah, but this is some shit.”

“Come on.” She stood and moved toward the edge of the roof.

“I’m right behind you.”

Her radio crackled to life. “Walston, Quinones, copy?”

“We’re okay, Captain.”

“Get the hell off the roof.”

“That’s what we’re trying to do.”

The structure had been compromised so much that the next footfall

could drop them straight down into the deadly inferno below them. But

there wasn’t time to call for a truck’s ladder to be raised to them.

They were fifty feet from their ladder.

They had to make it.

v

“Turn to channel six,” Alder said.

Beth’s hand shook as she clicked over.

“Doesn’t seem that the engine companies are having much success

keeping this fire at bay.” The reporter paused before continuing.

“We have now confirmed that the warehouse contained some kind

of combustible material and possible canisters of compressed air,

accounting for the explosions on the roof.”

Columns of ominous smoke belched upward, cutting ugly swaths

across the cloudless azure sky.

“There have been two explosions on the roof of the warehouse,”

the helicopter news reporter said as the images switched to the aerial

view. “We’ve got reports of two firefighters up there. It looks like they

are trying to make it to the far end.”

The helicopter video images showed the two figures as they

dodged a gaping hole in the roof. Their bulky uniforms and helmets

made it difficult to distinguish men from women, let alone if one was

Mary.

The station reporter chimed in, “And it looks as though this fire

• 179 •

Breathless

has engulfed all floors of the building. This may be a total loss, and

for some, will certainly be a Christmas Eve fire that won’t be soon

forgotten. Let’s hope those brave firefighters get to safety.”

“I can’t stay here, Alder.”

“You really need to.”

“I’m ten minutes from Potrero Point.”

“You won’t be able to—”

“I’ll call you later.” Beth couldn’t watch the television anymore.

She needed some word from Mary, or just some word about her. The

police might block her from getting close, but she had to try.

v

From her left, Mary saw water from a hose hitting the side of the

building just below her. The hissing sound as the water vaporized sent

an unsettling chill through her. The temperatures were extremely high,

which meant that the building was probably fully involved.

Twenty feet to their ladder. All they had to do was move from the

building’s edge, toward their right, and reach their means of escape.

The hole from the second explosion was not more than ten feet away.

She slowed her pace, concentrating on the feel of the roof under her

feet.

Tomas must have been doing the same. “Feels sturdy here.”

Mary looked into the hole and suddenly grabbed Tomas’s sleeve.

She pointed, through the fire, to four large metal canisters lying

on their sides. Their usually concave bottoms had popped out, swollen

from over-pressurization. Those small bombs were dangerously close

to blowing up.

“Get to the ladder,” Tomas yelled.

Angry, black smoke billowed out of the roof access room that

she had opened up for ventilation not ten minutes earlier. The smoke

covered the top four feet of the access room, racing toward open air.

On the floor of the doorway, strange back-and-forth movement from

something brown caught her eye.

She stopped and squinted, trying to focus on what could be

moving.

“What are you doing?” Tomas pushed her. “Come on!”

• 180 •

Beautiful Burden

Suddenly the brown object took a step out of the doorway. It was

a soot-covered puppy.

She pointed. “Tomas!” And ran toward it.

“Hurry!” Tomas yelled as she scooped the scared little puppy into

her arm and turned.

Tomas was already at the ladder, swinging his leg over the side.

A third, deafening blast shook the building and Mary dropped

down, cradling the puppy against her jacket. The explosion came from

the opening they had been looking into. The canisters had detonated,

ripping the hole even wider. The roof between them was now on fire.

She couldn’t get to the ladder now.

“Climb down,” Mary waved to Tomas, “and then move the ladder

over here, closer to me.”

Tomas’s head disappeared over the edge. She crawled to the side

of the roof access room that faced the edge of the building. For now, she

was alone with the terrified puppy, shivering against her. She prayed

that the roof underneath her would hold up.

v

Beth followed the clouds of smoke and turned down a side road

toward Mariposa Street.

Christmas Eve. This would be their first. She burst into tears.

Please let it be our first.

Mary had become everything to her. It had been so easy, after

she had finally given in to Mary’s loving nature and kind spirit, to fall

in love deeper than she ever had. A warm memory of their first run

together washed through her. Beth had escaped to San Francisco to

lose herself in unfamiliar surroundings but had found instead a familiar

heart. Mary had been escaping her own pain and, through running, they

had grown closer and eventually realized that their paths were destined

to join.

She’d lived with Mary less than a year and now she couldn’t

imagine a life without her. But as she turned onto Mariposa Street and

saw the army of fire engines, hoses, police cars, news vans, and chaos,

she let out a cry of anguish.

Please let her be safe.

• 181 •

Breathless

She gripped the wheel and drove until a police officer waved her

to a stop. She backed up and parked in the driveway of a closed-down

warehouse.

v

Mary looked up at the news helicopter that circled overhead.

Beth’s exquisite face flashed before her. She prayed Beth was unaware

of the fire. These were the calls that brought firefighter’s partners to

panic and dread.

How she wished she were home by now, kissing Beth in the

kitchen and getting ready to sit down to their first Christmas dinner.

How lucky she had been that Beth had given her a chance. They had

come from different backgrounds, but they were more similar than she

had originally admitted. Mary had been patient and so very thankful

that she had pushed through her own fears of commitment. Beth had

rescued Mary from pain, from her hidden sadness, and from her fear of

giving her heart away again.

Overwhelmed with love, she gulped in a deep breath, feeling the

sharp twinge from too much smoke.

The puppy began to whimper.

“I’ll save you, little one.” Like Beth had saved her.

v

“I’m looking for Mary Walston. She’s with engine five.” Beth had

found a fire lieutenant at the perimeter of the fire containment area.

“You have to stay back, ma’am. This area is too dangerous.”

Beth moved away and found other firefighters half a block away,

all facing away from her looking upward at the building. As she got

closer, she saw the big patches on the backs of their uniforms. SFFD

Engine 5.

She scanned the last names emblazoned above their patches.

Blake, Rodriguez, Giovanni, Cooper.

“Coop,” she called.

The firefighter turned around. “Beth,” he said, but his eyes weren’t

squinting, happy to see her.

• 182 •

Beautiful Burden

“Where’s Mary?”

His lips pressed tightly and then he looked down.

“Coop?”

“She’s on the roof.”

Her eyes followed his gaze upward.

“The explosions.” It was Mary she had seen on television. One of

the firefighters fighting to stay alive was her lover. Her head went dizzy

and her ears began to ring.

Something gripped her arm and she saw Coop’s face. His mouth

was moving but all she could hear was the ringing. Her arm was forced

down and her body followed until she was sitting on the ground. She

shook her head and the sound of the commotion all around her slowly

returned.

“They’re getting her down, Beth.”

v

The roof had turned hot under Mary’s knees and rolled insolently

around her.

A clunking noise at the edge of the roof was followed by the sight

of the ladder dropping against the building close by. Mary crawled

toward it and a few seconds later, Tomas appeared.

“The windows below were spewing fire,” he said, “so they’ve got

the hoses on them. Be prepared to get wet on your way down.”

She tucked the puppy inside her jacket and climbed over the top

rung.

v

A voice came over the radios of all the Engine 5 men. “Walston’s

on her way down.”

The men erupted in cheers and Beth blew out her breath.

“Didja hear what he said?” Coop asked.

“He said,” Beth clasped her shaking hands together, “that my life

is on its way back to me.”

v

• 183 •

Breathless

Mary found the captain and quickly debriefed him on anything

that might help them fight the fire. She also asked him if the owner

was present and he pointed her to a man standing with a few others by

engine ten.

She gently extracted the puppy from her jacket. With her hand

under it, she could tell that it was a little girl. A lucky little girl. She

walked up to the owner and presented her to him.

“We got the puppy out. She was all the way up on the roof.”

“Must have gotten in sometime today or yesterday. The mom’s a

stray that stays in the warehouse yard next door.”

“This isn’t your puppy?”

“No, but I imagine it’s yours now.”

The puppy looked up to Mary and opened her mouth, yawning

until her tongue curled.

v

Beth jumped up when she saw Mary walking between the fire

engines.

“Mary!”

Mary smiled and Beth’s legs wobbled in relief.

“I love you, Beth.”

“I love you, too.”

Mary threw an arm around her. When Beth hugged her, Mary said,

“Ooh, be careful babe. I want a big hug soon, but we have to be gentle

right now.”

Mary pulled away and showed her the puppy.

“Oh my gosh, is she okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. And she was on the roof. She’s a stray.”

“You rescued her.”

Mary smiled and kissed her. “I know this was hard on you.”

“I was scared to death.”

“Loving a firefighter can be a burden.”

“Yes.” Beth looked into the eyes that would be looking back at her

forever. “But it’s a beautiful burden.” She reached over to pet the pup.

“What are we going to name her?”

“You’d like to keep her, too?”

• 184 •

Beautiful Burden

“Seeing what you two went through, I believe she just has to come

home with us. She’s our Christmas present.”

“It’s only Christmas Eve.”

“Eve.” Beth grinned. “Let’s call her Eve.”

The puppy, seeming satisfied with the situation, laid her head

against Mary’s jacket and closed her eyes.

They kissed again, Beth thankful for Mary’s safe return. She knew

there would be more days like this. She would just have to love the

heck out of her every moment she could.

“I want to start celebrating. Soon.”

Mary handed her the puppy. “Will you take her home while we

finish up here?”

“Don’t be long. I’ve got a great dinner planned.”

Mary smiled her perfect smile. “We’ve got a great life planned.”

• 185 •

carsen TaiTe works by day (and sometimes by night) as a criminal

defense attorney in Dallas, Texas. Though her day job is often

stranger than fiction, she can’t seem to get enough, and spends much

of her free time plotting stories. She is the author of three novels:

truelesbianlove.com, It Should Be a Crime (Lambda Literary Award finalist), and Do Not Disturb. She is currently working on her fourth

novel, Nothing but the Truth (January 2011), which, like It Should Be a

Crime, is a romance with a heavy dose of legal drama, drawing heavily

on Carsen’s experience in the courtroom. The characters in this story

first appeared in It Should Be a Crime.

• 186 •

love is the key

carsen taite

Stay.” Morgan slid her hand down Parker’s naked, muscled

thigh. She loved waking up next to her. She’d spent the past

ten minutes admiring every inch of Parker’s body as she slept, from her

tousled black hair to her long, sleek legs. Now she wanted a glimpse of

Parker’s piercing blue eyes.

Parker groaned in response to the touch. “It’s Monday morning,

right? Study. I have to study.” Parker rolled over and pinned her to the

bed. “Baby, I want to stay, but I can’t study in a hotel room, especially

not with your naked self distracting me.”

Morgan pretend-wrestled against her lover’s restraining hold.

“Seems like it wasn’t that long ago I was the early riser and you

would do anything necessary to keep me in bed.” She assumed an

uncharacteristic pout. “Stay now. Study later.” She nipped at Parker’s

chest. “You deserve a break.”

Parker brushed her hard nipples against Morgan’s soft, wet lips.

Thoughts of the looming bar exam faded fast against her arousal.

She surrendered to the ecstasy of Morgan’s touch and the want in her

emerald green eyes. She wanted to get a head start on the arduous work

ahead, but she gladly devoted herself to Morgan’s pleasure first. The

intensity of Morgan’s orgasm signaled just how much her lover had

needed the release.

Until a month ago, their encounters had been restrained by their

respective roles: Parker as law student and Morgan as her professor.

Even after Parker dropped out of Morgan’s class, their crazy schedules

had restricted their ability to fully explore each other’s minds and

bodies. Since her graduation from law school on Saturday, she and

Morgan had spent every moment in this bed, with only short bouts of

• 187 •

Breathless

sleep and room service to break up the marathon of celebratory lovemaking.

“Wow.” As the tremors ebbed, Morgan could manage only the one

word.

Parker leaned down, kissed the corners of Morgan’s barely open

eyes, and brushed aside her auburn waves of hair. “Wow, yourself.

I can’t believe you can still come so fiercely after we’ve made love

nonstop all weekend.”

Morgan curled onto her side and pulled Parker into the nook of

her embrace. “Speak slower. My brain’s numb from sex.” She slid her

hand down Parker’s hip and traced her pelvis. “I’m willing to bet I can

reduce you to one-word sentences.”

“Hold that thought.” Parker eased herself out of Morgan’s arms.

“Study first. Sex later.”

“Killjoy.”

“I know, I know.” Parker didn’t want to leave, but now that a new

week had arrived, she knew she had to put in some hours of study

toward the bar exam or she wouldn’t relax enough to enjoy another

lovemaking session. “As much as I want to stay here with you, I need

to get a jump on that stuff.” She pointed across the room at a stack of

bar review books.

“All right, I’ll let you go. I have plenty to do anyway.”

“Lots of new business, huh?”

“Actually, this week’s usually pretty slow on the business front.”

At Parker’s puzzled look, Morgan added, “Christmas is in three days.”

Parker paused from pulling on her clothes. “Oh, yeah. I guess it

is.” For the past several years, Parker had tended bar at a friend’s club

on Christmas Eve, slept in Christmas morning, and was back at the bar

that evening to pour cocktails for all the family day escapees. She had

no family of her own and she’d never had a relationship coincide with

this holiday. Until now.

Morgan observed the glazed-over look in Parker’s eyes. She knew

enough about Parker’s past to conclude Parker hadn’t given holidays

a second thought for a long time. Now that they were together, she

wanted to change that. “Let’s get a tree.”

Parker looked around the room and laughed. “A tree? Um, I’m

thinking a hotel room is not a good place for a tree. There’s a big one in

the lobby,” she offered as a compromise.

• 188 •

Love Is the Key

“Not the same. Do Kelsey and Erin have a tree?” Morgan referred

to Parker’s roommates at the large house they shared in East Dallas.

“Nope, but it’s a perfect place for one. Kelsey’s never home and

Erin’s moving in with her boyfriend after the first of the year. She’s too

busy packing to worry with holiday decorations. Irene has one up at

the bar.”

“Again, not the same.”

“I think you need a house to have a tree.”

“No such festivities for room renters and hotel dwellers?”

“You got it.”

“Are you still up for spending the holiday with my folks?” Because

Parker seemed to have forgotten the holiday altogether, Morgan wasn’t

sure Parker remembered they had planned to drive down to Morgan’s

parents’ home in Wimberly on Christmas Eve.

“Day after tomorrow?” Parker’s tone was semi-hysterical. “Sure,

although I have to admit I’m a little nervous about meeting them. Didn’t

you say your father is a judge?”

“Used to be a judge. He’s just a retired country dweller now.

You’ll love their place. It’s just a few miles from town, but it’s set in

the middle of about fifty beautiful wooded acres.” Morgan pondered a

moment before she spoke her next words. “I don’t suppose this would

be a good time to talk about us becoming homeowners.”

Parker shook her head. “Not with the bar exam around the corner

and your new law practice. Besides, Kelsey’s already stressed about

Erin moving out. She can’t afford the upkeep on the house on her own.

If I told her I was moving out, too, I think she might lose it.” Parker saw

Morgan’s disappointment. Hell, she was disappointed herself. She’d

love to wake up in a place they could call their own, where they could

sneak to the kitchen in the middle of the night, naked, without worrying

about roommate sightings. Where they could sleep until noon without

the sound of other hotel guests going about their day. As much as she

wanted to own a home with Morgan, now was definitely not the right

time.

Morgan smiled. “I understand. I won’t bug you about it. Oh, and

it’s our new law practice. When I advertise that we have a former police

detective on the team, we’re going to rake in the clients.”

“Gotta pass the bar for that to happen.” Parker leaned in and kissed

Morgan.

• 189 •

Breathless

Morgan held her close. “I have an idea. Can you pull yourself

away from your studies long enough to have a private, pre-holiday

dinner with me? We can exchange gifts, just us, the night before we

leave.” She could feel Parker’s rising panic, and acknowledged it with

a tight hug, holding her until she felt the anxiety fade. When a much

calmer Parker pulled away, she offered a final squeeze. “Go. Study. I’ll

make all the plans.”

“Okay, babe. That’s sounds great. Now I have to grab a shower

and head to the library.”

Morgan grinned as she watched Parker walk away. Parker’s

singular focus on her studies would make her holiday planning much

easier than she could have hoped.

v

After six hours huddled in a cubicle, Parker decided studying on

her own sucked. Throughout law school, she had been part of a study

group populated by the best and brightest students. The result of their

combined efforts was a Gestalt certainty they would all score excellent

grades on their exams. Because she had chosen to graduate early, she

was preparing for the bar exam on her own. She missed the synergy of

the group. Why are you so worried? It’s not like you need a job. It was

true, her career path was already set. She and Morgan were going to

practice law together, but she didn’t want Morgan to cut her any slack

because they were lovers.

As much as she wanted to pack in more study time, the words

were fuzzy on the page. She packed up her books and trotted out to her

car. A few minutes later she pulled into the long driveway of the house

she shared with her best friend, Dr. Kelsey James. She was surprised to

see Kelsey’s car parked in the drive.

She wound her way through the stacks of boxes in the foyer, and

found Kelsey in the kitchen. “Hey, Dr. James, I thought you worked

twenty-four/seven.”

Kelsey dropped the mug in her hand and yelped. “Dammit, Parker,

don’t sneak up on people. I thought you were holed up in a hotel room,

making mad, passionate love to a certain professor.”

“She’s not a professor anymore.” Parker scooped the miraculously

• 190 •

Love Is the Key

unbroken mug off the floor. “You’re pretty jumpy. Guess you’re used to

having the place to yourself?”

“Hell, I haven’t been here enough to enjoy anything. I just stopped

by to change. What are you doing here?”

“I live here, remember?”

“In rent only. I kind of figured you and Morgan had taken up

permanent residence at the hotel.”

“No, the hotel’s only temporary. Now that the office is up and

running, she wants to resume her house search and include me, but I

told her this wasn’t a good time.”

“Hopefully not on my account. You know I’ll figure out a way to

manage if you want to move in with her.”

Parker grinned. “I don’t see how. Judging by all the boxes, I’m

guessing Erin’s taking all your worldly goods. My meager belongings

may be all that stands between you and civilization.”

Kelsey shrugged. “I guess she had more stuff than I realized. But

back to Morgan. Don’t you want to live with her?”

“Sure I do, but not in a tall building with daily maid service.

Seriously, James, I can’t really focus on anything except the bar exam

right now. I didn’t even realize Christmas is this week.”

“Oh, so now you have to add shopping to your list.”

“Yep. We’re supposed to exchange gifts tomorrow night. What

do you buy the woman who has everything? She wants a tree. Don’t

think I’m going to find one that will fulfill her expectations and still be

appropriate for a hotel room.”

“Hardly.” Kelsey glanced at her watch, her expression anxious.

“Well, you better get a move on if you’re going to get any shopping

done. Come on, I’ll help you.” She grabbed Parker’s arm and steered

her toward the door. “Go start the car, I’ll be right out.”

“Hang on a sec. I thought you were between shifts. I just stopped

by to pick up some clothes. I didn’t plan on a shopping trip.”

“I’ve got a little time, and you need the help. We’ll run over to

Northpark. When’s the last time you bought a gift for a woman you’re

madly in love with?” Parker gave her a blank look, and Kelsey shook

her head. “Go on, I’ll be right there. You can pick up clothes when we

get back.” Without waiting for an answer, Kelsey picked up a pen and

started scribbling a note.

• 191 •

Breathless

The last thing Parker wanted to do was take an impromptu trip to

a mall crowded with frantic shoppers, but she did need a present and

the thought of selecting one on her own was daunting. She shook her

head and went outside to get the heat going in her car. Mere moments

later, Kelsey slid into the passenger seat and rapped her hand on the

dash. “Let’s go.”

Parker took her at her word and roared the big engine in her ’68

Mustang fastback to life. As she turned onto the main street, she noticed

a large Lexus SUV turning onto Kelsey’s street. She did a double take,

but the SUV wasn’t the same color as Morgan’s Lexus. Before she

could focus on the occupants, Kelsey punched her on the shoulder.

“Come on, quit dawdling. I thought you called this a muscle car for a

reason. Let’s get to the mall.”

Parker tore her attention away from the passing SUV. “The mall

it is.”

v

“Well, that was rotten timing. I guess I should have figured she’d

be around. I mean technically, she still lives over here.” Morgan slid

down in her seat even though she knew Parker’s Mustang was well out

of sight.

“I doubt she saw you. It’s not like we’re in your car.” Aimee

Howard dug through the console between the seats as she steered her

Lexus into a broad driveway next to a beautiful three-story house. “You

should introduce us.”

“Yes, definitely. I’m thinking of opening lines now. ‘Parker, I want

you to meet the woman I dated briefly when I was trying to forget about

you. Remember that time you saw us together and became insanely

jealous?’” Morgan shuddered. “I think I’ll pass.” She pointed at the

house in front of them. “Can we just go in?”

Aimee dangled a key before her eyes. “You bet. Come on.”

v

Morgan paced the hotel room. She was sure it grew smaller with

each lap. It was nine p.m. Maybe Parker had decided to return to the

library after she finished whatever she’d been doing with Kelsey. Or

• 192 •

Love Is the Key

maybe she saw you riding around town with another woman and she

doesn’t plan on coming back. She shrugged away the thought. Parker

might have been insecure about their future a couple of months ago,

but they’d survived a lot since then, including a near-death experience.

They were a committed couple now, and nothing could tear that apart.

Not even pre-holiday, pre–bar exam stress. Still, after spending the

previous forty-eight hours naked, tangled in each other’s embrace,

Morgan couldn’t help but feel a sharp sense of separation since she had

last held Parker close.

She glanced at the clock again. The law library had closed ten

minutes ago. Morgan reached for the phone and dialed Parker’s cell. As

her call went to voice mail, she heard the familiar sound of a key card

being pushed and pulled out of the door slot. She strode to the door and

swung it open. Parker’s smile was the first thing she saw.

“Hey you, I was starting to worry.” Morgan drew Parker into her

arms.

Parker landed a quick peck on Morgan’s cheek, then edged away

from Morgan’s embrace. “Sorry. I lost track of time. Have you eaten?

I’m starving, but I need a shower first. If you’ve already had dinner, I

can order something.” She kept up a steady stream of rambling as she

made her way to the bathroom. She knew she sounded manic, but she

needed to get out of the room before Morgan noticed the huge bulge

under her jacket.

Morgan struggled to hide her disappointment at Parker’s distance.

“I waited for you. I’ll order something for both of us.”

“Great, thanks.” Parker disappeared into the bathroom and seconds

later, Morgan heard the shower running. She picked up a phone and

ordered a festive meal she had no appetite for. While she waited for

dinner to be delivered, she sprawled on the couch and closed her eyes.

“Baby, dinner’s here.”

Morgan looked up to see Parker, wearing an animal print robe,

steering a service cart across the room. She yawned large and shook

herself awake. She must have fallen asleep; she hadn’t even heard the

knock on the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snooze.” She noticed

Parker’s bare feet. Her hair was still damp. “Did you answer the door

like that?”

“Yep. I think he slipped us some extra condiments. I should flash

my robe more often.”

• 193 •

Breathless

“Tease.”

“You got it.”

Morgan felt a rush of want. She scooted over on the sofa. “As long

as you’re giving it away, I have first dibs. Come sit by me.”

“In a minute.” Parker extended her hand. “Come here. I have a

surprise for you.”

Morgan placed her hand in Parker’s and followed her to the

bedroom. She immediately noticed the addition. On the nightstand

closest to her side of the bed a tiny rosemary bush, shaped to look

like a Christmas tree and decked with tiny white lights and miniature

multicolored glass ornaments, lit up the corner of the room. Beneath the

boughs was a small box wrapped in shiny silver paper.

“I see someone did something more than studying today.”

“Guilty. Kelsey insisted on a shopping trip. She said waiting until

Christmas Eve was suicidal at best.”

“So you went by the house today?” Morgan waited for a mention

of Parker having spotted her.

“Yeah, I needed to pick up some clothes.” Parker pointed at the

box. “Aren’t you even going to shake your present?”

Morgan scoured Parker’s face for hints of realization until she was

satisfied none were there. Maybe Parker hadn’t seen her with Aimee

after all. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m highly interested in what’s in that

box, but,” she tugged at the tie on Parker’s robe, “I’m focused on

unwrapping this present first.”

“It’s just a little something. A token of my affection.”

“It may be small, but I recall it creating quite a stir last night.”

Morgan continued her efforts to disrobe her lover until Parker stilled

her hands.

“I’m talking about the present. Under the tree.”

“Oh, that present.”

“Be serious, Morgan. I’m warning you, it’s not much, so don’t go

buying me something extravagant for Christmas.” Parker’s expression

became earnest. “Promise me.”

Morgan’s stomach clenched with guilt. If only Parker had known

what she’d been doing all afternoon. The last thing she wanted was

to do anything that might wreck their newfound love. She decided

extravagance was a matter of perception. “I promise.”

• 194 •

Love Is the Key

v

The next morning, faced with the prospect of another long, lonely

day of studying without even a dreaded shopping trip to break the

monotony, Parker found it even harder to get out of bed. She rolled

toward the middle of the king-sized bed, and was surprised to find

Morgan missing. She forced her eyes open and slowly focused on a

sharply dressed woman brushing her hair.

“And here I was, thinking about playing hooky. Where are you

going, looking like a lawyer?”

Morgan glanced over her shoulder. Parker was adorable, wrapped

in the sheets. She wanted to toss her hairbrush down and join her under

the covers. “I have a little shopping of my own to do.”

“You look more like a working woman than a shopping one.”

“I may run by the office and take care of a few things before

everyone shuts down for the holiday.”

“What if I came by and did my studying there?”

“Well, you could, but I only planned to be there for a few minutes,”

Morgan said, hoping to dissuade her. If Parker spent the day at the

office, she would be too distracted to focus on what she had planned.

“So, you’re wearing your hottest suit on the off chance a wealthy

new client happens to drop by at the same moment you happen to be

there?”

Morgan knew Parker was teasing, that the undercurrent of guilt

was entirely self-inflicted, but she couldn’t ignore the feeling. Not

that it mattered. She had an appointment she couldn’t miss, and taking

Parker along wasn’t part of her plan.

She sat on the edge of the bed. “I have a meeting outside the

office.” She thought quickly, making a mental note to place a couple of

calls as soon as she was out of Parker’s presence. “Remember, we’re

meeting for dinner. How about we make it an early one?”

“Sure. Here at the hotel?”

“Actually, I was thinking I would pick up a dinner for two from

Central Market, and we could eat at your place.”

Parker scrunched her brow. “My place? Oh, you mean Kelsey’s

house.”

“You look disappointed.”

• 195 •

Breathless

“I guess I imagined a romantic dinner for two.”

“We can light lots of candles and have a picnic in your room. It’ll

be like the first time we were together.”

“Except there was no food at that particular picnic.”

“I don’t recall going hungry,” Morgan purred.

Parker smiled at Morgan’s sexy expression and decided a romantic

dinner in her room at the house where she’d first made love to Morgan

would be the perfect end to a boring day of studying. “Meet you back

here at six?”

“Perfect.” Morgan paused on her way to the door. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

v

Morgan flinched when the door to Kelsey’s house flew open before

Parker could fit her key in the lock. She shrugged when Parker shot a

surprised look her way.

Kelsey spoke first. “Hey, you two. My shift changed, but don’t

worry, I have plans, but not here. I had to take care of a couple of things

before heading out.” She waved them in. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Parker walked into the living room, but Morgan hung back. She

whispered in Kelsey’s ear, “Are you alone?”

Kelsey answered quietly. “Nope. She was running late. You’re

going to have some explaining to do.”

Morgan rushed to catch up to Parker. She found her lover in the

living room, standing in front of Aimee Howard. Parker wore a puzzled

expression and Aimee looked like she wanted to vaporize herself.

Parker placed the grocery bag on the coffee table and shoved

a hand toward Aimee. “Parker Casey, nice to meet you.” Morgan

approached them and took over the introductions.

“Parker, this is a friend of mine, Aimee Howard.” Morgan watched

Parker’s expression slowly morph from puzzled to perturbed.

Parker pointed at Aimee. “Wait a minute, I know you.” She turned

back to Morgan. “Didn’t you two date? What’s she doing here?” Parker

swung around and delivered a piercing stare in Kelsey’s direction.

“Would someone like to tell me what’s going on?”

Kelsey was the first to speak. “Aimee and I were just leaving.” She

• 196 •

Love Is the Key

grabbed Aimee’s hand and pulled her toward the door. Aimee dropped a

large white envelope on the coffee table as she passed by. Kelsey paused

long enough to look Parker squarely in the eye. “Morgan bought you

the perfect Christmas gift. Get her to show it to you.”

Parker flinched at the crack of the slamming door. She looked at

Morgan.

“I can explain.”

Parker raised her eyebrows.

“We didn’t date. Well, not really. She’s my realtor. I briefly

considered dating her, before you and I…well, when you and I were

still trying to figure out what we wanted from each other. There was

no spark between us. I mean between her and me. She’s my realtor.”

Morgan, who was paid handsomely for her ability to persuade, found

herself unable to stop babbling.

Parker placed a finger on Morgan’s lips. “Shh.” She grasped

Morgan’s hand, led her to the couch, and settled in beside her. “It’s okay.

I was disappointed, but mostly because I expected us to be alone and it

was disconcerting to see her again, especially here. I’m not jealous. I

wonder if she’s dating Kelsey. Sure looks that way.”

Morgan decided this wasn’t the time to correct Parker’s

assumption. “We’re alone now.”

Parker made a show of looking around. “You sure? Your

accountant or banker isn’t lurking around here, too?”

Morgan punched Parker in the ribs. “You’re funny.” She cuddled

close. “Dinner first or presents?”

“Sounds like someone wants her present.”

“More like I want to see your face when you open yours.”

Parker shook her head. “Morgan, I thought we agreed. Nothing

extravagant.”

Morgan waved her arm. “You see anything extravagant here?”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a small box wrapped in shiny

silver paper. She shook it. “Doesn’t sound like much to me.”

“Hey, where did you get that?” Parker reached into her jacket

pocket and pulled out an identical package.

“The store.” Morgan grinned and shoved the box toward Parker.

“Open it.”

Parker traded packages with Morgan. “You first.”

• 197 •

Breathless

Morgan didn’t hesitate. She tore through the wrapping. After a

quick “oh yeah” when she saw the box, she opened the lid. “Parker, it’s

beautiful.” She held up the lone key it held. “What’s this?”

“I made a copy of the office key. I thought you’d like a brand-

new fancy key ring for our brand-new office. It’s an eternal circle. You

like?”

“I love.” Morgan tapped the other package. “Your turn.”

As Parker pulled back the wrapping, Morgan reached for the

envelope Aimee had left behind. She held it and waited.

“This box looks very familiar.” Parker held a pale blue Tiffany’s

box. She lifted the lid and pulled out a key ring, identical to the one

she’d given Morgan. She smiled. “Obviously, I love the key ring. You

have great taste.” Parker examined the single key. “What does this

open?”

“Part two of your gift.” Morgan handed Parker the envelope.

“Here’s the rest of your present.” Parker opened the flap and pulled out

a sheaf of papers. She was used to reading legalese, but it still took her

a moment to take in what she was holding in her hand. Deed of Trust.

“You bought me a house?”

“Well, kind of. I bought us a house.” Morgan pointed to the key in

Parker’s hand. “I have a key, too. The key ring was Kelsey’s idea.”

“She was with me when I bought your present. That girl can’t

keep a secret.”

“I don’t know about that. She helped me with both parts of your

present.”

“How did she—wait a minute…” Parker looked back at the papers

and read past the first few lines. She read her name next to Morgan’s,

and a property description that contained a very familiar address. “You

bought this house? Kelsey’s house?”

“You love it, you’re too busy to look for a new place, and your

stuff’s already here. Kelsey wants to downsize. It seems like the perfect

solution. I’m cheating in a way, since we’ll both be working our tails

off to maintain it, but I hope you don’t mind. Merry Christmas, baby.”

Morgan waited anxiously for Parker’s reaction.

Parker held the papers to her chest. “It’s perfect. I love it. I love

you.” She dangled the key in front of Morgan’s eyes. “But just so you

know, our love is the only key I need.”

• 198 •

• 199 •

Nestled in the foothills of the Berkshires, bObbi marOlT happily

writes, constantly thinks “what’s next?” for her work, and strives for a

difference with each of her stories. Her first Bold Strokes publication is

Between the Lines, a romance. “Merry Christmas from Down Under”

is her first short story and introduces Marty Jamison and Liz Chandler.

They will make their full-story debut when Marty and Liz star under

the neon lights of Broadway in Loving Liz, due in 2011. Meanwhile,

they wish you a Merry Christmas!

• 200 •

merry christmas from doWn under

BoBBi marolt

It’s Christmas Eve in the Big Apple. Snow falls quietly and

carolers crowd street corners that aren’t already manned by the

Salvation Army cauldrons. Somewhere, chestnuts roast and children

dream of morning’s presents.

It’s all good, or so I hear. I don’t get to experience holidays in

the same way regular New Yorkers do, although I often wish I could

do a little figure-skating at Rockefeller Center. Not one to participate

outside of my humble dwelling, I do hear all things, which helps set my

moods. Songs of Santa and Rudolph fill the air, and I especially like

when Marty sings “Silver Bells.” This Christmas is especially thrilling

for me, but first things first.

I must apologize. I’m not from Australia. Although the temperature

outside fluctuates between hot and bitter cold, my climate averages

98.6 degrees and is continually damp. I nestle within soft folds of flesh

that keep me well hidden and protected from the world, and I’m subject

only to the touch of someone special and to that of my owner, Marty

Jamison. I’m Marty’s clitoris. I have a date on this eve filled with joy

and giving, and you’ll hear more about that soon. I think it’s appropriate

that I tell you some things about Marty and me first.

Few have met me, and that isn’t always a lonely existence. When

Marty’s single, she gives me the attention I need. Marty has a gentle

touch and understands how much I hate the tumultuous flesh burn and

ungodly buzz of a vibrator. Marty treats me with slow massage and a

cute little side-to-side ride with her hips. It’s fun for both of us. I’m not

particularly needy, but there are times when Marty’s anxious hormones

find their way to me.

• 201 •

Breathless

You see, Marty is a stage actor, singer, and dancer. It isn’t uncommon

for her to excite me while she’s onstage strutting and teasing the general

public. Her audience isn’t aware, but while she’s giving up the goods

with a song or dance, Marty sexes me up with constant leg motion that

stirs and awakens me. Her randy little hormones surround and tease me,

and I make my desire known by pinging her with a constant rhythm of

delicate throbs. Sometimes I think she deliberately teases me when she

tightens her legs and swings her hips side to side. Those hips simply are

not limited to the delight of the audience. I can say that with knowledge

because Marty always gives me a little lovin’ when we’re home again.

Well and good, but also boring at times. Nothing beats the touch

of another woman who loves Marty and treats me with some of the

happiest moments of my life. I mean, if that touch is all I have, I deserve

the best. A gentle glide from a woman’s lips, a warm blanket from her

tongue, oh yeah, those things I do miss. Now Marty, she doesn’t sleep

around, and I can appreciate that choice because…well…you know the

old question: “Where were those fingers last?” I shudder to think. It had

been two years before another woman piqued our interest, and Marty’s

new lover is my date tonight. She’s the someone special I mentioned

earlier.

Her name is Elizabeth Chandler, Liz for short. God, just saying

her name makes me take a breath of contentment and yeah, I quiver. I

like Liz.

Liz arrived in Marty’s life about four months ago. Although I had

doubts about her initially, I couldn’t help but do a little happy dance

every time Liz came near Marty. To show my delight, I gave Marty

a little nudge now and then, just to let her know I was interested in

Liz. Marty, she waited. I throbbed while she waited. And waited. And

waited.

Marty nearly killed me with her no-rush policy, and I firmly

decided the hell with that attitude. I put up a fight for Liz. I knew what

I wanted and made sure I got it more readily than Marty would have

normally liked. In one sense, though, I give Marty credit. I feel good

about having to wait, even for the slightest amount of time, because

Marty thought with her brain and didn’t give me full control. Some

days I damned her, of course.

Before Liz, I had a string of nicknames. One woman called me

a happy button and another called me rosebud. I might have tolerated

• 202 •

Merry Christmas from Down Under

rosebud, but even in these dark crevasses, I’m savvy to the sled. Who

wants that thought in bed with them? Rubyfruit was a silly name, too,

and then there was a woman who dared call me the little man in the boat.

Nuh-uh. No men here. I quickly deflated and Marty promptly discarded

the purveyor of those words. I think Marty’s words were close to “Get

the hell out of my bed.” Whatever her words of choice, I agreed.

Ah, my Liz. Can you hear me sigh? Liz calls me Kitten. How

cute is that? No one has ever called me anything so charming. Charm.

That’s what Liz is about in my book. She’s charming and possesses the

perfect combination of sensual arousal. Her perfume is to die for and

I think she uses a hint of peppermint mouthwash. Couple those with a

soft voice and the silkiest tongue—Liz makes me purr.

Tonight is Christmas Eve. Liz promised me a special evening,

and I hear Marty softly singing “Silver Bells.” It’s Liz’s favorite, too.

I know Liz is near. While city sidewalks have been bustling, Marty’s

hormones have been gathering and swirling around, ready for me to

make my entrance.

Wait, I think Liz is coming closer. The anticipation kills me and I

tremble at the thought of her next move. Liz will use her delicate, warm

fingers to push away the lips that keep me hidden and—yes! Cool air

pelts me and Liz is here with lips to warm me again.

Ah, bliss. Liz’s precious lips surround me. Marty’s hips move

slowly, taking me along on her gentle ride. A surprise touch from Liz’s

tongue sends a shock so strong that I drive it throughout Marty to ease

my pleasure and pressure. Otherwise, I know I’ll explode.

What? No! Liz stopped. Please come back Liz. This isn’t…I’m

not—

Suddenly the ride stops and I feel Liz’s cheek against me again.

She’s nuzzling me, loving me in the gentlest way. I purr.

“Merry Christmas, Kitten,” Liz barely whispers to me. “I’ll return

in a few minutes.” She kisses me ever so softly.

Sigh. Merry Christmas, Liz.

• 203 •

meghan O’brien is a web developer and author of four lesbian fiction

novels. Her third, Thirteen Hours, was a winner of the 2009 Golden

Crown Literary Society award for Lesbian Erotica. She lives in Northern

California amongst the redwood groves and vineyards, a far cry from

her native Michigan, where she grew up in a suburb of Detroit. “The

Afterparty” features characters from the 2009 contemporary romance

novel Battle Scars. Her newest work, a paranormal romance/thriller

titled Wild, is scheduled for publication in 2011.

• 204 •

the afterParty

meghan o’Brien

Ray McKenna stood in the doorway of the North Coast

Veterinary Clinic and watched with pride as her partner and

owner of the practice, Dr. Carly Warner, bade the receptionist good

night. Joyce was the last of Carly’s employees to leave the annual

Christmas party, which had been a well-attended and utterly exhausting

affair. For Ray, at least. Carly was positively glowing even after having

spent the past four hours being the most charming, funny, and engaging

host Ray had ever seen. It was clear that her employees loved her,

almost as much as Ray did.

“I guess it’s true what they say about opposites attracting,” Ray

said as she watched Joyce load her Pomeranian into the car. “You’re

great at parties. Which is good. Helps compensate for me.”

“Don’t be silly. You were wonderful tonight.” Carly wrapped an

arm around Ray’s waist and pulled her closer, giving Joyce one last

wave as she drove out of the parking lot. “I was so proud of you.”

“I barely spoke.” Ray knew that as far as Carly was concerned,

her willingness to attend the party at all was enough. Having struggled

with PTSD, agoraphobia, and crippling social anxiety after returning

from Iraq almost three years before, she’d pulled off a minor miracle by

surviving a raucous White Elephant gift exchange, eating with people

she barely knew, and participating in general holiday cheer. Still, she

wished she could have been half as amiable and outgoing as her partner.

“I had a nice time, I just never know what to say to people.”

“You were fine.” Carly pulled Ray inside the clinic, closing the

front door behind them. “Every time you did speak, you were funny,

and warm.” Leaning close, Carly gave Ray a gentle kiss on the lips.

“And sexy.”

• 205 •

Breathless

Ray giggled, still a little self-conscious after an entire evening

of feeling awkward. “I’m pretty sure you were the only person who

thought that.”

“That you were funny and warm? Doubt it.”

“The other part.”

Carly nipped at Ray’s lower lip gently. “The sexy part?”

Ray’s face heated. “Yeah.”

“I better have been the only one to think that.” Carly drew back

from their embrace and winked. “I’ll fire anyone who even looks at you

sideways.”

“Whatever.” Laughing, Ray stole another kiss and eyed their

attentive audience.

The waiting area was decked out with strings of colorful lights

and seasonal decorations. A small Christmas tree sat in the corner of the

room with wrapped packages—donations for the local animal shelter—

piled beneath. The most festive things in the room, however, were the

two dogs that stood side by side behind them, wagging their tails. Jack

the shepherd mix was still wearing the antlers Carly had slipped onto

his head at the beginning of the party, and Ray’s therapy dog Jagger—a

blue Great Dane—had a bell-covered collar around his neck.

“Those poor abused animals.” Ray shook her head.

Carly snickered as she walked to Jack and removed his antlers.

“They’re good sports.”

“Indeed they are.” Ray eased the jingle bells over Jagger’s massive

skull. “It was Mommy’s idea. Not mine.”

“Oh, sure. Blame me.” Carly scratched Jack behind his ear. It was

clear from his beaming doggy grin that he wasn’t holding a grudge.

“Playing good mommy, bad mommy, are we?”

Ray glanced sideways, sharing a smile with Carly. “It’s just that

you’re so good when you’re being bad.”

Carly’s grin turned positively wicked. “Well, that’s true.”

Ray broke eye contact first. She had made great strides as far as

getting used to flirting so brazenly, but after such a socially intense

evening, she slipped back into old habits without meaning to. Sometimes

sharing such boldly sexual energy with a woman as beautiful as Carly

was still overwhelming.

“Hey,” Carly murmured, her smile gentle when Ray finally met

• 206 •

The Afterparty

her gaze, “you really were amazing tonight. Thanks for coming to the

party.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

At Carly’s raised eyebrow, Ray chuckled. “Okay, so maybe that’s

overstating a bit.”

“Maybe a bit.”

“Seriously, I wanted to come. It was your first office party since

buying the practice. Kind of a big moment and everything.” Ray moved

closer and touched Carly’s lower back. The connection centered her

immediately. “It was important to you. That meant it was important to

me.”

Carly laced her fingers behind Ray’s neck. “Have I mentioned

lately how brave you are? And how lucky I am?”

Ray encircled Carly’s waist and drew Carly tightly against her.

Now that they were alone, her nervous energy dissipated, replaced by

familiar desire. “Yeah, but I like hearing it.”

Carly gave her a slow, soft kiss. “I am so lucky.”

“Damn right you are.” Ray dropped her hands to caress Carly’s

bottom, exhaling as some of her newly discovered confidence came

flooding back. Being around other people was getting easier, but

nothing would ever feel as good as the time she spent with the woman

who held her heart. Alone with Carly, Ray was at her best.

“There she is.” With a sigh, Carly trailed her fingernails up Ray’s

flanks, along the sides of her breasts. “There’s my sexy, confident, in-

control Ray.”

Ray kissed Carly’s neck, her skin tingling everywhere Carly

caressed. She squeezed Carly’s buttocks and pulled her hard against

her thigh. “Here I am.”

“You may not be comfortable with crowds, darling, but you’re

incredible in one-on-one situations.” Carly stroked over Ray’s stomach,

then sneaked a hand up under her shirt. She palmed Ray’s breast through

her bra, turning Ray’s legs to water. “Maybe we should go in my office

and exchange presents.”

“I love presents.” Ray released Carly with effort, not trusting

herself to stay on her feet through much more teasing. “You don’t want

to do presents at home?”

Carly shook her head, giving her a smile that dripped with pure

• 207 •

Breathless

sex. Clearly the season brought out the naughty girl inside. “I’ve got

something for you to unwrap right now. In my office.”

Ray raised an eyebrow. “Is this a planned seduction, Dr.

Warner?”

“Maybe.” Carly grabbed Ray’s hand, pulling her past the dogs

into the back room. “Let’s just say that I’ve always fantasized about

being fucked in my office.”

Ray stumbled slightly, clumsy with arousal. Being with Carly had

opened up a whole new world as far as lovemaking was concerned.

She had no idea whether sex was just plain better between two women

or if the chemistry between her and Carly was theirs alone, but she

had never experienced pleasure like Carly brought her. Each time was

better than the last, and as far as Ray was concerned, there was no safer,

happier place in the universe than between Carly’s thighs.

Carly opened her office door and gestured Ray inside. “After you,

my love.”

“You’re in rare form tonight,” Ray said, zeroing in on Carly’s

desk. The room was messy as usual, but the desk, normally cluttered,

was pristine. “And you cleaned.”

“I did.” Carly sat on the edge of the broad walnut desk, beckoning

Ray closer. “Come here.”

Ray obeyed, pushing Carly’s thighs apart so she could stand

between them. She rested her fingertips on Carly’s throat and kissed her,

sweeping her tongue deep into the soft heat of Carly’s mouth. When she

drew back, she murmured, “You like in-control Ray, do you?”

Carly hummed her agreement. “I adore her.”

“Good.” Carly always said she liked it when Ray took charge, and

Ray could finally admit that she liked it, too. A lot.

Ray fingered the top button of Carly’s shirt. “Is this what I’m

supposed to unwrap?”

“It is.” Carly bit her lip, wrapping her legs around Ray’s hips and

tugging her closer. “Go ahead.”

Ray undid the top button, holding Carly’s gaze. “I think I’m going

to like this present.”

“I know you will.” Carly batted her eyelashes as Ray got her shirt

fully unbuttoned. “It’s new.”

Dropping her gaze to Carly’s chest, Ray sucked in a deep breath.

• 208 •

The Afterparty

Carly’s creamy breasts were encased in a red, lacy bra that Ray had

never seen before. Except possibly in her dreams. “Oh. Wow.”

“Festive, isn’t it?”

Ray licked her lips and eased Carly’s shirt off her shoulders.

“Please tell me you bought matching panties.”

“Why don’t you find out?” Carly’s finger traced a line down the

center of Ray’s chest.

A shot of hot dizzying lust rid her of all the day’s inhibitions.

Alone with Carly in her office, she wasn’t afraid of anything. Ray’s

focus narrowed to the two of them, to the pleasure they were about to

bring to each other. She found the button on Carly’s pants and thumbed

it open with one hand, the other hand exploring the swell of Carly’s

breast where it rose above the lacy bra cup.

Unzipping Carly’s pants, Ray pulled the material down just far

enough to reveal a strip of crimson lace and grinned. “You are bad.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean I’m getting coal this year.” Carly played

with the neck of Ray’s shirt, curling her finger under the edge of the

fabric. “Maybe if I promise to be very good for the next couple hours

or so?”

“Good is overrated.” Ray eased Carly’s pants down the length of

her legs, taking her shoes off as she went. Then she stood, hungry at

the sight of Carly in her revealing lingerie. “I can’t believe you were

wearing this the whole time. I watched you during the entire party with

no idea.”

“You watched me?” Carly planted her hands on the desk behind

her and leaned back, showing off her supple curves. “Really?”

Ray brushed her hand over Carly’s bare stomach, enjoying the

subtle twitch of her muscles as she reacted to the touch. “You know I

did. I always do.”

“And I always know.” Carly brought her leg up and braced her bare

foot on the edge of her desk. Teasing Ray with a tantalizing glimpse of

slick, pink flesh. “I love how your eyes feel on me.”

“I guess you must.” Ray slowly traced a line up the inside of

Carly’s thigh. She pushed her fingertip beneath the elastic leg of Carly’s

panties, exhaling as she discovered the silky softness of Carly’s labia.

“Good thing, too. ’Cause I can’t tear my eyes away from you right

now.”

• 209 •

Breathless

“That was the idea.”

Ray dragged her gaze from the lacy fabric between Carly’s legs to

the enticing display of her cleavage. “I don’t know where to start.”

Carly dipped her knee farther to the side, smiling slyly. “I have

some suggestions.”

Ray leaned in for another hard kiss. Caressing Carly’s throat, she

whispered, “I think I’ve made a decision,” and pressed Carly backward,

laying her down across the desk. “Stay there.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Carly grinned up at her, slowly running her fingers

over the tops of her breasts. “I’ve been waiting for this all night.”

“You should’ve told me there was going to be an afterparty.” Ray

dragged Carly’s office chair closer, then sat down, pushing Carly’s

thighs apart so she could roll herself between them. “Something to get

me through the small talk.”

“You knew you were getting laid tonight. Didn’t you?”

Ray grinned, guiding Carly’s leg over her shoulder. “Well, I

hoped.” She lowered her face and took a good, long look at the delicate,

silky material that covered Carly’s pussy. “Beautiful.”

Carly tangled her fingers in Ray’s hair, urging her closer. Ray

went eagerly. She kissed Carly gently through her panties, moaning at

the dampness against her mouth. Poking out her tongue, she sampled

Carly’s flavor, loving the idea that the layer of fabric between them

dampened the pleasure Carly clearly craved. Ray wanted to draw things

out as long as she could stand it because Carly always came hardest

when Ray built her up slowly.

Carly whimpered at the deliberate motion of Ray’s tongue. “No.

Not slow.” She tightened her hands on Ray’s head, arching her hips into

the air. “Fast.”

Drawing back, Ray grinned at Carly’s familiar strategy. “I thought

you liked in-control Ray.”

“I love in-control Ray. Especially when she makes me come hard

and fast.”

Ray kissed Carly through her panties again. “I don’t believe that.”

Placing her palms against Carly’s inner thighs, she spread Carly’s legs

as wide as they would go.

Carly inhaled sharply then moaned.

“You like feeling exposed. Vulnerable.” Ray hooked a fingertip

• 210 •

The Afterparty

under the edge of Carly’s panties, pulling the material to the side. Just

far enough so she could gently lick Carly’s labia. “Don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Ray closed her eyes against the surge of power she felt at Carly’s

submissive posture. She stroked up Carly’s stomach to her soft, lace-

covered breast and licked Carly again, then once more, harder. Carly’s

thighs trembled against Ray’s shoulders. Like that, Ray’s need to

possess Carly shot into overdrive.

“I love these panties,” Ray murmured. “And it’s time for them to

go.” She rolled the office chair back so Carly could close her thighs.

Carly’s triumphant grin didn’t go unnoticed. “Don’t gloat. I’m still in

charge here.”

“Sure you are.” Carly turned on a seductive smile that made Ray

glad she was already sitting down.

Ray curled her fingers under the waistband of Carly’s panties,

tugged them off, and carefully set them aside. Those were definitely

keepers. Ray steeled her expression as she stood and leaned over Carly,

drawing so close their mouths nearly touched.

“I am in charge.” Ray slid her hand along Carly’s inner thigh. She

could feel Carly’s heat inches away from the source, could smell her

scent hanging heavily in the air. Knowing that Carly was expecting

slow, Ray entered her fully with a single finger, fast but careful. Carly

tipped her head back and cried out, an ecstatic shout of surprised

pleasure. Ray pulled out before Carly could adjust to the sensation and

grazed the slick length of Carly’s labia with her fingertip. “Isn’t that

right?”

Carly made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a

sob. “When did you get so good at this?”

Ray’s confidence soared. They had been working toward this

dynamic for months, and she was finally starting to feel at ease with it.

Whatever had happened in the past, she was safe when she was with

Carly. And she could do anything.

Ray pushed her fingertip far enough inside for Carly to feel it, but

not enough to satisfy her need. “We’ve been practicing. Remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” Carly bit her lip and closed her eyes. She lifted

her hips, but Ray moved with her. “Please, Ray. I’ve wanted you all

night. You can’t torture me like this.”

• 211 •

Breathless

“But I can.” Ray rubbed her thumb over Carly’s clit, once, twice.

Then she removed her hand altogether. “And I will.”

Throwing her arm over her eyes, Carly groaned. “Mean.”

Ray caught Carly’s lower lip between her teeth and bit down until

Carly gasped out loud. Instantly she released her, soothing her lip with

her tongue.

“Want my mouth on you?” Ray rubbed her mouth over Carly’s,

felt Carly smile. “Ask for it and you can have it.”

“I’ve been asking.”

Ray skimmed her lips over Carly’s ear. “Not how I like to be

asked.”

Carly shivered beneath her and gripped Ray’s biceps, squeezing

tightly. The sharp bite of her fingernails had Ray so wet, so fast, she

knew she wouldn’t be able to draw things out much longer. Her only

hope was that Carly would hurry up and say the words Ray desperately

wanted to hear.

“Please, Ray,” Carly breathed against Ray’s cheek. “I need my

pussy eaten. So fucking bad. If you don’t fuck me with your tongue

right now, I’m gonna explode.”

Ray shuddered. Carly’s incredibly sexy way with words set her

on fire like nothing else. Too overcome with the dizzying need to taste

Carly to muster a response, Ray kissed down Carly’s throat, between her

breasts, across her stomach until she reached her destination between

Carly’s thighs.

Carly clasped the back of Ray’s head and forced her closer. Nuzzling

Carly’s wetness, Ray opened her mouth and had a long, lingering taste.

The balance of power had clearly shifted, but Ray couldn’t care less.

She sucked on Carly’s labia, lapping at her with her tongue.

“Oh fuck yes.” Carly moaned as Ray pulled her leg over her

shoulder and dove in deeper. “Just like that. Suck me like that.”

Ray reached beneath Carly with one hand, grabbing a handful of

her ass and holding her in place. In a moment Carly would be wriggling

all over the place—she always did when she was getting eaten out—

and Ray didn’t want her to get away. Not when she was enjoying Carly

so damn much.

For the moment Carly wasn’t talking. Instead she moaned loudly,

moving her hips in rhythm against Ray’s mouth. She could make Carly

come as quickly as she wanted, and for all her threatening about taking

• 212 •

The Afterparty

it slow, the combination of the lingerie and Carly’s dirty talk left her

with no choice. There was no holding back tonight.

Ray toyed with Carly’s opening with the tips of two fingers and

Carly’s moans escalated from just that little bit of penetration. Ray

fought not to just thrust inside and find the sweet spot she knew would

send Carly over the edge. But she waited, needing to hear Carly’s voice

one more time.

Carly seemed to read her mind. “Fuck me with your fingers, baby.

I need you inside me now.”

Circling her tongue around Carly’s clit, Ray eased her fingers

inside Carly as deep as she could go, curling the tips upward as she

thrust in and out. Carly groaned and one hand flew to her own breast,

where she tugged at her nipple through the fabric of her bra.

Carly losing control snapped the last of Ray’s, and she fucked her

faster. She sucked Carly’s clit into her mouth, flicking at the swollen

flesh with the point of her tongue. Carly cried out, nonsense words, and

dug her heel into Ray’s back, tightening around Ray’s fingers until she

came hard.

Within moments, Carly went from clutching Ray close to

struggling away. “Stop, baby, I can’t take any more.”

Ray left Carly with one last, loving lick, then drew back with a

satisfied murmur. “Merry Christmas.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Carly laughed shakily and propped herself up on

her elbows.

Ray smiled and reached behind Carly’s back, unhooking her bra.

She slipped it off Carly’s shoulders and tossed it on top of the panties.

Carly raised an eyebrow and sat up on the desk.

“You were overdressed,” Ray said.

Carly tugged at the hem of Ray’s shirt. “You’re the overdressed

one.”

With a self-assuredness she hadn’t possessed even eight months

ago, Ray slowly eased her shirt over her head. Carly’s admiring stare lit

a warm glow in the pit of Ray’s stomach, making it easy to perform a

pseudo striptease while Carly watched with wide eyes.

“Merry Christmas, indeed,” Carly said when Ray shed her

panties.

Standing naked in front of Carly, Ray was wholly comfortable

in her own skin. The first time they’d slept together, the physical and

• 213 •

Breathless

emotional scars of Ray’s time in Iraq had made her powerfully self-

conscious, but no longer. Carly made her feel like the most gorgeous—

and powerful—woman in the world.

Carly stood, took Ray into her arms, and kissed her languorously.

She spun them around, still joined at the mouth, and backed Ray onto

the desk so she sat on the edge. After a last flick at Ray’s mouth she

nibbled a path down her throat to a painfully erect nipple.

“Do I get to lick you now?” Carly asked, punctuating the question

with a flick of her tongue against the tip of Ray’s breast. “Please?”

Ray lay back and spread her legs. “You’d better.”

Never one to take things slowly, Carly sat in her office chair,

rolled forward, and licked Ray’s swollen pussy with the flat of her

tongue. Ray cried out and gripped the edge of the desk, amazed by the

way her thighs immediately began to quiver. Carly chuckled against

her, sending pleasurable vibrations shooting into Ray’s abdomen and

wrenching a breathy moan from her lips.

Ray closed her eyes and tried her hardest not to come. It was

never hard for Carly to bring her off, usually far more quickly than Ray

wanted. This was her favorite thing in the world and Ray never wanted

it to end. But tonight—with the lingerie and the incredible turn-on of

fucking Carly in her office—she was already teetering on the edge of

release. Sobbing at the fire pulsing in her pussy, Ray held Carly’s face

against her and pumped her hips into her mouth. No matter how badly

she wanted to make it last, she couldn’t help herself. It just felt too

good.

Carly’s hands crawled up her stomach and settled on her breasts.

She seized Ray’s nipples in her fingers and pinched, twisting gently.

And that was it—Ray couldn’t hold off her climax if her life depended

on it. She tipped back her head and roared her release, then whimpered

loudly when the sensation became too much for her to handle. Well

attuned to her nonverbal cues, Carly immediately drew back and let

Ray catch her breath.

“No fair,” Ray gasped. “Too fast.”

Carly kissed the inside of Ray’s thigh. “You think you’re done

for the night?” She peered up at Ray with a devilish smirk. “No way,

darling. That was just a warm-up.”

Ray struggled to sit up, a Herculean task now that her muscles had

turned to jelly. But she did, gripping Carly by the arms and pulling her

• 214 •

The Afterparty

to her feet. Ray hugged Carly tight, burying her face in the soft skin of

her neck. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Carly kissed Ray’s hair. “I vote for doing round

two at home. In bed.”

Ray tipped her head back and gave Carly a hopeful look. “Think

you can handle my cock tonight?” One of Ray’s greatest discoveries

of the previous year had been the wonder of strap-on sex. The very

thought of getting Carly on her hands and knees in their bed flooded

her with renewed energy.

“Great minds.” Carly released Ray and picked up the clothing

they had scattered across the floor. “Double-time, soldier.”

Carly was so cute when she talked military. Getting dressed

quickly—and with a smile on her face—Ray marveled at how Carly

made her feel like a lovesick teenager again. Though there was nothing

immature about her love for Carly, the feelings she stirred reminded

Ray of the all-consuming, world-tilting intensity of adolescence. That

was something she had thought she left behind in Iraq, a bone-deep joy

she would never feel again. When she’d first come home, fresh from

her months being held captive by insurgents, Ray was certain that the

part of her life that allowed for love, sex, and happiness was over. That

she would never be whole again. Meeting Carly had been a revelation

in many ways, but the most shocking part was the realization that she

had never actually been whole before now.

“I love you,” Ray said again. Now fully dressed, she watched Carly

button her shirt, already missing the touch of her bare skin. “I know I

just said that, but…I really love you, Carly. And I’ll never stop.”

Carly gave her a shy smile as she finished securing the last button.

“You better not. ’Cause you’re stuck with me.”

“Good.” Ray reached into the pocket of her pants, relieved she

hadn’t lost the small box inside. “I have a for-real present for you

now.”

“Oh, sweetheart, trust me. What you did to me just now? Was

definitely for real.”

Ray’s chest swelled with pride. She extracted the box she had been

carrying around all day and presented it to Carly. “For you.”

Carly blinked, and when she looked up there were tears in her

eyes. “Thank you.”

Ray blushed. “You haven’t even seen it yet.”

• 215 •

Breathless

“I don’t have to.” Carly cradled the box. “I love it already.”

“Open it.”

Carly unwrapped the small box and cracked it open, lighting up

when she saw what was inside. “Oh, Ray. It’s beautiful.” She pulled out

the fourteen-carat gold necklace and the attached veterinary caduceus

charm. “It’s perfect.” Carly turned her back to Ray, handing the necklace

over her shoulder. “Would you help me put it on?”

“I’d love to.” Ray opened the chain and placed it around Carly’s

neck, then fastened the clasp. Before Carly could turn around again,

Ray pressed a soft kiss to the top of her spine. “Merry Christmas.”

“Yes, it is.” Carly swiveled and reached past Ray to open a desk

drawer. She pulled out a red envelope and presented it to Ray with an

excited bounce. “Here’s your for-real present. It’s not jewelry.”

Ray laughed, shaking the envelope lightly. “Yeah, I guessed that.

I’m not really the jewelry sort, anyway.”

“I know.” Carly’s smile grew impossibly wider. “I hope you like

it.”

“I’m sure I will.” Ray tore open the envelope, curious what it

could be. Inside was a card, and inside the card was… “A photo of a

golden retriever puppy?”

Carly’s bouncing intensified. “I really hope you’re up for it, and

if you’re not, just tell me. But I spoke to Tanya at the Assistance Dog

Institute, and she arranged for you to be a puppy raiser for the new class

of service dogs.”

Ray’s heart started pounding, a sensation she had become very

used to over the past three years. But instead of terror or anxiety, it was

pure excitement. For as much as she loved dogs, she had never had a

puppy before. Knowing that she would be raising one that would one

day be to someone else what Jagger was to her was truly phenomenal.

Carly’s expression vacillated between elation and concern. “I

can’t tell—did I just overstep or are you totally geeked?”

“I’m totally geeked.” Ray threw her arms around Carly and

squeezed hard. “That’s amazing, Carly. When do I get him?”

“In three days?” Carly stepped out of their embrace, checking

Ray’s face again. “I’ve got puppy supplies hidden in a closet here. So

we’re all set as far as that goes. You just need to provide the love and

discipline.”

“For the puppy, too.”

• 216 •

The Afterparty

“Cute.”

Ray waggled her eyebrows and grasped Carly’s hand. “Come on,

let’s get home. All this excitement has me ready for round two. Which,

I assure you, will contain plenty of love and discipline.”

Carly wrapped an arm around Ray’s waist and snuggled close.

“And to all, a good night.”

• 217 •

radclyFFe has published over thirty-five romance and romantic intrigue

novels as well as dozens of short stories, has edited numerous romance

and erotica anthologies, and, writing as L.L. Raand, has authored a

paranormal romance series, The Midnight Hunters.

The characters in this story are featured in the 2010 Prism Award–

winning novel Secrets in the Stone and the 2007 Lambda Literary

finalist When Dreams Tremble.

• 218 •

ice castles

radclyffe

Dev Weber hitched the bright yellow, braided nylon tow rope

over her shoulder and trudged down the snowy embankment,

dragging her loaded skid behind her. The glaring early-December

sunlight did little to cut the biting chill of the icy wind that whipped

across the frozen lake. Thirty-six miles long and several miles wide in

places, Lake George was her laboratory. On days like today the lake

felt more like her battlefield, and she was pretty sure she was losing.

A quarter of a mile away, the tall, thin outline of her research shack

appeared like a matchstick in a snaggle-toothed matchbook, surrounded

by other shacks—some no more than four or five feet square—that

dotted the frozen surface. Unlike the men and women who sat out the

frigid weather inside the tiny shacks, dropping lines through holes in

the ice with endless optimism, she wasn’t out to catch fish. She was

studying them. That was her business, and the work didn’t stop just

because her laboratory froze. Sun or rain, wind or snow, it didn’t

matter. The fish still migrated, fed, spawned, and died. And by tracking

their movements and lifecycles, analyzing the water that nourished

and sometimes poisoned them, she could draw conclusions about the

impact of industrial effluent on the health of not only the waterway, but

the environment and ultimately, its human inhabitants.

Winter was a dichotomous season. At once barren and lonely,

and incredibly beautiful and awe-inspiring. Ice crystals sparkled in

the air, fractured by sunlight into millions of tiny prisms. Her breath

froze in clouds before her, creating whimsical shapes before drifting

away like broken promises. She waved to a few familiar people—locals

who populated the waterways in the summer in outboards, trawling

fishing lines off their sterns, who couldn’t give up the hope of a catch

• 219 •

Breathless

despite the subzero temperatures. Halfway to her shack, she slowed,

her attention diverted by the sound of rhythmic pounding. A small 4x4,

one of those ATVs that looked like golf carts on steroids, was parked on

the ice not far away. Curious, she slogged in that direction.

A dark-haired woman in a T-shirt and jeans knelt on the ice,

methodically cutting perfectly square chunks from the frozen surface.

She was tall and rangy with muscular shoulders and arms. Just as Dev

drew near, the brunette looked up at a blonde in a red and black plaid

wool jacket with an expression of such simple joy Dev’s heart ached.

She missed Leslie most at moments like this, when she was reminded

she was alone. She missed that singular connection that let her know

she had a place in the world, safe and secure in Leslie’s heart.

The two women turned in Dev’s direction, and she couldn’t help

but smile, her loneliness banished for an instant. They were a gorgeous

couple, one dark and one light, and by some trick of light they seemed

surrounded by a faint glow. As the dark-haired woman rose, Dev’s

vision shimmered for just a second and she could have sworn the ice

ax in the woman’s hand was a sword. She shook her head, laughing at

her imagination.

“Hi,” Dev called.

The brunette casually draped her arm over the blonde’s shoulder,

nothing proprietary about it, just a natural movement that said this

woman was her anchor. Her center.

“You’re going to get cold if you stop working,” the blonde

murmured to the brunette, giving her a look of fond tenderness while

plucking at her sweat-soaked T-shirt.

The brunette grinned and rubbed her cheek against the blonde’s

temple. “But you can keep me warm.”

The blonde shook her head, looped her arm around the brunette’s

waist, and grinned at Dev. “Hi. I’m Adrian. This smart-ass is Rooke.”

“I’m Dev. What are you doing?”

“Cutting ice blocks,” Rooke said.

Dev nodded. “Yup. That I can see. Why?”

“I don’t have any stone.”

“Okay. I’m with you so far.”

The blonde, Adrian, punched Rooke lightly on the shoulder and

said to Dev, “She’s a great conversationalist, really. It just takes her a

year or so to get warmed up.”

• 220 •

Ice Castles

Rooke grinned.

The energy that poured from them was like nothing Dev had ever

experienced. She’d been around plenty of couples, straight and gay.

Friends who she knew without a doubt loved each other. These two,

though—these two projected such a sense of timeless unity, she wasn’t

even certain they were real. Which was ridiculous, because she could

see their breath and she wasn’t prone to hallucination. “What are you

going to build?”

“A castle,” Rooke said. “I’ve always wanted to build her a castle,

and now I’m getting the chance.”

“Uh-huh,” Dev said. Okay, well, they’re a little nuts. Seem

harmless, though.

Adrian laughed. “The Winter Carnival? At the center of town?

Rooke is building—”

“Oh!” Dev said. “You’re the ice sculptor?”

“Actually, I’m a stone carver, but like I said—”

“Right. No stone.” Dev laughed. “So why don’t you just buy the

ice from one of the commercial pla—” At the sight of the thundercloud

rising in Rooke’s eyes, Dev reconsidered. “Right. The stone—the ice—

that’s as much a part of the creation as the final form, right?”

“That’s right. The stone—the ice—they are the sculpture.”

As Rooke spoke, she stroked Adrian’s shoulder, and Dev’s fingers

ached with the absence of Leslie. She’d seen her at Thanksgiving, two

weeks before, but Les had a big case she was trying in DC in another

week and had to stay close to the New York office while she prepped.

So Les was at her Manhattan apartment and Dev was at the cabin she

rented at Leslie’s parents’ lakeside resort. Most of the time their long-

distance relationship didn’t bother her. She was often out on the lake

for days at a time, camping alone or with a tech on one of the many

islands, doing field research. She and Les usually managed to spend

more than half the month together, one or the other of them traveling

between the lake and the city. But there were plenty of nights Dev slept

alone, and too many mornings she awakened with her arms empty and

her heart aching.

“I’ll have to stop by later and see it when it’s done,” Dev said.

Adrian rubbed her cheek against Rooke’s shoulder. “Do that. You

should bring your partner, too.”

“I would. She’s working this weekend, though.”

• 221 •

Breathless

“We’ll be at the castle until sundown,” Adrian said with a smile

that warmed Dev to the bone.

“Thanks. I’ll be by.”

Ten minutes later Dev unloaded her gear at her research shack,

a plywood structure resembling an outhouse, for want of a better

description, and only slightly better constructed. She did have a small

propane heater inside, a five-foot-long wood bench attached to the wall

to sit on, and some shelves to store her equipment. With a Coleman

lantern for light and the heater going, she was comfortable enough. She

set up her monitors, dropped her probes through the hole she’d drilled

in the ice, and started the data recorders. After unzipping a subzero

sleeping bag to use as a cover, she got comfortable on the bench and

pulled out a book. When she started to get drowsy, she stretched out on

the bench, tucked the sleeping bag around her, and closed her eyes. She

awakened to the touch of warm lips moving against her mouth.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Leslie Harris said, kneeling beside the bench

where Dev slept. “You know anyone could’ve walked in here and

kissed you?”

“Can’t think of anyone else who would want to,” Dev said, her

heart leaping at the unexpected appearance of her lover. She sat up

and made room under the quasi blanket. Leslie scooted in next to her

and Dev wrapped an arm around her and kissed her again. Properly

this time. Leslie tasted of peppermint and ice. Her skin was still cool

from the walk across the lake, but her mouth was hot. Dev had visions

of coming in from a raging blizzard to stand by the hearth, the roaring

blaze thawing her frozen soul. “God, what are you doing here?”

“I missed you.” Leslie unzipped Dev’s jacket and slid her hand

inside. She nuzzled Dev’s neck and nipped at her earlobe. “Do you

mind me interrupting your work?”

“Trust me, the fish aren’t going anywhere fast.”

Leslie stared around the tiny, unadorned shack. “Cozy in here, just

the two of us.”

“Don’t forget the fish,” Dev said, kissing Leslie’s throat.

“Do you think they can see us?”

“I doubt they’re interested.” Dev opened Leslie’s parka and

murmured in approval when she discovered a flannel shirt underneath.

She unbuttoned the top three buttons and kissed the warm, soft skin

between Leslie’s breasts. Leslie’s fingers came into her hair and guided

• 222 •

Ice Castles

her face onto her breast until Dev closed her mouth over Leslie’s

nipple.

“I’ve wanted you to do that for the last week,” Leslie said, her

voice husky and low. “Sometimes I’d be in the middle of a meeting,

once even in court, and I’d suddenly remember the feel of your mouth

on me, your hands inside me, and I’d feel like I was melting. I couldn’t

even think for a second.” She gripped Dev’s hair and pulled her

face away from her breast until their eyes met. “I love you so much.

Sometimes I think back to when we were kids and I almost let you get

away. It scares me to think I could lose you again.”

“I’ll always be here, Les.” Dev made a tent out of the sleeping

bag, knelt on the ice in front of Leslie, and opened her shirt the rest of

the way. “I love you. I’ve missed you so damn much.”

“I want you,” Leslie said, her blue eyes hazy. She fumbled with

the waistband of her dark canvas pants, then lifted her hips and pushed

them down. Her eyes opened wide. “Oh my God, this bench is cold.”

Dev laughed and pulled off her jacket, turning it inside out for

Leslie to sit on. “Better?”

“Almost. I need you to warm me up a little bit more, though.”

Dev leaned between Leslie’s legs, kissing her breasts through

her parted shirt and working her way down the center of her stomach.

Leslie’s belly tightened and her hips lifted.

Leslie sighed. “I’ve been thinking about this all the way up here. I

don’t think I can last more than a few seconds.”

“Then you don’t have to.” Dev kissed the hollow inside Leslie’s hip

bone, then braced her palms on the inside of Leslie’s thighs and parted

her legs. She ran her tongue lightly between Leslie’s lips, savoring the

clear sweet taste of her.

Leslie’s hips jumped and a small moan escaped her throat. “Oh,

baby. Don’t tease me today.” Leslie tugged at Dev’s hair, short fitful

movements. Her thighs trembled beneath Dev’s fingertips.

“I love how hot and wet you are,” Dev murmured.

“Make me come,” Leslie whispered.

Dev kissed low on Leslie’s belly, then lower, on the base of her

clitoris and beneath the hood, light, feathery kisses until Leslie’s hands

tightened in her hair and signaled she was close. Ever so slowly Dev

sucked her into her mouth with the firm steady pressure she knew would

take Leslie to the edge. She waited for the sound, for the unconscious

• 223 •

Breathless

whimper that proceeded Leslie’s fall into pleasure. When it came, she

sucked Leslie harder, driving her over, again and again.

“Enough, enough, baby,” Leslie finally gasped, pushing Dev’s

face away.

Dev laughed and rocked back on her heels. “You sure? Usually

when you haven’t seen me for a while it’s a double feature.”

Leslie swatted her shoulder. “I want the second act in bed when

my ass isn’t freezing.”

Dev helped Leslie pull up her pants and then settled on the bench

beside her, gathering the sleeping bag around them. “I love making you

come.”

“Good for me,” Leslie said, cuddling against Dev’s side, her arm

wrapped around Dev’s middle underneath her jacket. “You okay?”

“I’ll last a while.” Dev nuzzled her cheek against Leslie’s hair.

“You smell like sunshine.”

“You smell like woodsmoke. I love that smell.”

“How long are you up for this time?” Dev prepared herself for the

little bit of disappointment that always followed the pleasure of Leslie’s

arrival.

“A while.” Leslie fished around inside her jacket and pulled out a

piece of letter-sized paper. She handed it to Dev. “Got some new office

stationery.”

“Uh-huh,” Dev said absently. She wasn’t tracking. Her mind

was still a little hazy. Making Leslie come pretty much warped all

her synapses for a while. Dutifully, she glanced at the cream-colored

embossed paper, noting the name of Leslie’s high-profile law firm.

Leslie was a partner and had worked damned hard to get there. Dev

was incredibly proud of her, even though they sometimes worked

opposite sides of an issue. She scanned the names running down the

left-hand side, wondering how many new associates they’d added, and

then registered the change. Leslie’s name wasn’t listed under the New

York City office any longer. It headed the list under the smaller Albany

division. She dropped the stationery onto her lap and cupped Leslie’s

chin, searching her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I’m relocating. I’m moving back here.”

“I thought you always said you needed to be in New York to

handle the big cases.”

“I can’t stand being away from you. And if the big cases want me,

• 224 •

Ice Castles

they can come to where I am.” Leslie took Dev’s face in her hands. “I

love you. Time is too short. I’m coming home, so you better start house

hunting.”

“What, you don’t want to live in the cabin at your parents’

place?”

“I think I’m too old to live with my mother and father, even if they

do adore you.”

Dev grinned. “Any place in particular?”

“I only have three requirements—the same three I’ve had since

we were fifteen. I need to wake up in the morning to the scent of pine

forest, the sound of waves against the shore, and the feel of your arms

around me. I need to be home, where you are. I forgot that once. I won’t

again.”

“I love you, Les.” Dev pulled Leslie up by the hand. “Come on, I

have a castle to show you.”

Laughing, Leslie said, “Okay. A little bigger than I imagined, but

why not.”

Dev kissed her. “Welcome home, baby.”

• 225 •

Julie cannOn is a corporate stiff by day and dreamer by night. She

has seven books published by Bold Strokes Books. Her latest, Descent,

published in July 2010 follows Power Play, Just Business, Uncharted

Passage, Heartland, Heart to Heart, and Come and Get Me. Julie has

also published four short stories in Bold Strokes anthologies. Recent

transplants to Houston, Julie and her partner Laura live on a lake with

their two kids, two dogs, and a cat. Visit her at www.juliecannon.com.

The characters in “Come Back to Me” first appeared in Come and Get

Me, published in 2007.

• 226 •

come Back to me

Julie cannon

Do you remember the first time we met?”

Hey, Lauren, love of my life, I can tell from your deep,

rhythmic breathing you’re not going to answer. As much as I want you

to, that’s okay. You need your rest. The last few days have been tough,

so as long as you can hear me, that’s all that matters.

“We were at that charity thing at the Lincoln Hotel. My life was

for shit and even though it was for a good cause, I couldn’t wait to get

out of there. Then you barged into my life in your little black dress,

Charisma perfume, and don’t-fuck-with-me attitude. You were the

most aggravating woman I’d ever met, and my world hasn’t been the

same since.”

The image of you standing in front of me, your chin high, eyes

blazing is as clear today as it was twelve years ago.

“Did I ever tell you that it had probably been years since someone

stood up to me like that? Boy, doesn’t that ever sound pompous. But

then again I was Elliott Foster, investment banker, maker of millions,

woman-about-town. Nobody contradicted me or had the guts to say

anything out loud. Everybody wanted something from me. Except you.

You didn’t want anything to do with me. And as shocking as it was,

that’s when I was hooked.

“I never told you this, but from that minute you were all I ever

thought about. It was the weirdest thing. Here I was, thirty-six years

old, and it was the first time a woman had totally dominated me. And

I had no fucking clue what to do about it. For a smart girl I was pretty

stupid.

“I remember when we went to that HRC dinner. You had on that

• 227 •

Breathless

tuxedo vest with nothing underneath. When you took off your jacket, I

thought I was going to die. It made me nuts to watch the men slobber all

over themselves looking at you. I didn’t want anyone imagining doing

to you what I wanted to do.

“God, I loved touching you. Your skin was so soft and warm. The

way you felt in my arms when we were dancing—it was like nothing

I’d ever experienced before. I never wanted to let you go.

“I wanted you so bad. You didn’t know, but when you went to the

ladies’ room I actually scoped out a place where we could be alone.

Okay, I admit all I could think about was getting you naked. Or at least

getting my hands down your pants. God, if I’d have known it would be

weeks before I finally touched you, I would have dragged you away.

“I’ll always remember exactly where I was when you threw down

the gauntlet. I was wrapped in a towel, fresh from the shower and you

were on my answering machine. I can hear your voice now: ‘The ball’s

in your court now, Elliott. I won’t approach you again. If you want me,

you’ll have to come and get me.’ I saved that message. I took the tape

and put it in my safe at the office. Of course, that was after I chased you

until you caught me.”

I laugh at my own play on words and you still don’t move.

“I wish I could wake you up and show you how much I still want

you. I could take you right here, right now, you still have that effect on

me. Lesbian bed death is definitely not alive in our house. You were my

alarm clock Tuesday morning. No better way to begin the day than by

making love with the woman you love.”

Neither my voice nor the noises in the hall have woken you. I want

you to open your eyes and talk to me. I love it when we reminisce about

our life together. I still can’t believe you’re my girl.

“Remember when we were on that flight to Hong Kong? I don’t

know what got into you, but I had to bite my lip when you went in me.

Thank God it was dark and the blankets were extra large. You were

crazy. I remember the shock when I realized your hands were intent

on doing more than simply lying quietly on my leg. If I’d have known

you’d turn into a sex-crazed maniac I’d have invited you along on one

of my business trips earlier.

“Yes, Hong Kong. That was the trip I bought you the Rolex. You

were insistent that you didn’t need anything so extravagant, but I was

• 228 •

Come Back to Me

not going to be convinced. You deserved the best then and still do every

day.”

I wonder where it is? Normally if it’s not on your wrist it’s in your

jewelry box next to the Movado, Tag Heuer, and your trusty Timex

IronMan. That watch is almost fifteen years old and you still wear it.

Was it only a few days ago we joked about how it was one of the last

things you had from your single days? That and the dishes in our cabin

on Lake Michigan.

“I’m thinking about the cabin. You were insistent we needed a

place to reconnect, unwind, and unplug. No cell phones, BlackBerrys,

or wi-fi. I remember looking at you as if you had asked me to climb

into a rocket and go to the moon. How in the hell was I going to survive

without at least my BlackBerry?

“I wanted the best for you, but you had something altogether

different in mind. We ended up buying that fixer-upper on the most

beautiful five acres I’ve ever seen. Those first few years we went up

there all the time. By the time we were done I didn’t want to see another

hammer or measuring tape the rest of my life. You almost fell off the

roof when we were reshingling. You were so proud of the shed we built

for the tractor. You designed the whole thing and it came out great.

The dogs love to run and run when we go there. Just thinking about

it makes my thumb throb. How many times did I hit it while we were

building that addition to the kitchen? I’m surprised it’s not as flat as a

pancake.”

Warmth spreads through my body at the memory of how more than

one remodeling project had been interrupted by our never-ending desire

for each other. I ended up with sawdust in some very interesting places,

but it was nowhere as painful as the case of poison ivy on your butt. In

the end the cabin was ours, built practically with our own hands.

“You told all our friends that it was just the way we wanted it,

not somebody else’s built to their taste. It was the first thing we bought

and worked on together. I wasn’t sure we could do it. A lot of couples

can’t work together but we seemed to just know what each other was

thinking almost before we did ourselves.”

Your hair tickles my face and I gather you closer. We’re in a

strange bed, but that isn’t unusual. We’ve traveled all over the world

together—first class to Paris on our honeymoon, sitting with chickens

• 229 •

Breathless

and goats on a flight in Mozambique. Every place we’ve been has been

paradise because we were together. How did I ever think I didn’t need

anyone in my life this way? Damn it, those are not tears in my eyes. I’m

not going to break down now. Not with you in my arms like this. Deep

breath, swallow hard, okay. Back in control.

“Remember Mason and Justin? They scared the holy hell out of

me. When you said you wanted us to be foster parents, I thought you

were nuts. I knew nothing about children and even less about how to

be a parent, especially to kids who needed a foster home. When they

showed up on our doorstep that night I was shaking so bad I thought

I’d drop Mason when the social worker put him in my arms. He was

so tiny. I remember wondering how anyone could beat such a helpless

child. You were so good for them. Once they got some good food into

their stomach and a few kind words, they really opened up.

“Remember the look on your mother’s face when Justin asked her

neighbor where her teeth were? I thought she was going to pop a cork.

It was her idea to invite the lady in to meet all of us.”

I stifle my laugh, but the laughter feels so much better than the

tears. Even after eight years I still feel the pain when we had to give the

boys back to their parents. They’d been with us for almost three years.

God, that was hard. But I’m not going to talk about pain right now. You

don’t need that reminder.

“All those other kids in and out of our house. All they needed

was stability and love. You have a never-ending supply, not just for the

frightened children but for the parents that come into your office each

day. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. You care and you help them. You,

sweetheart. You make a difference in people’s lives every day.

“First the foster kids, then the kids we had together. Grace has

your smile and your mannerisms. When she cocks that hip and gives

me that look that says I have absolutely no clue, she is all you. Your

mother said the same thing the other day. She told me Spence wanted to

have a lemonade stand. Our son the entrepreneur. Good Lord, he’s only

six and already making money. That’s my boy.”

I can’t help but smile at the image of our son waving down cars

passing through the neighborhood to land a sale.

“Don’t worry about them, honey. My sister’s coming down

tomorrow to help out. Between Stephanie and your mom, they’ll take

good care of them. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother-in-law.”

• 230 •

Come Back to Me

I feel your heart beat faster when I talk about our children. You

had such difficult pregnancies and my heart stopped when you almost

lost Spence early on. You were so beautiful when you were carrying our

child. You radiated joy and happiness and insisted I feel every move

and kick. Even if it was two o’clock in the morning. I was so lucky that

you weren’t crabby and moody like other women. But my God, you were

horny. I think we had more sex while you were pregnant than we did the

first few years we were together. Of course, I wasn’t complaining.

“I’ll never forget the day you went into labor. I was in the middle

of negotiations with the union at Strattford. When Teresa came in and

handed me a note that simply said It’s time I completely lost my mind.

I ran out of there so fast and down the hall to the elevator. Those thirty

floors felt like I was in the tallest building in the world. I still have that

piece of paper. It’s in that box on the floor of my closet.

“You amaze me, sweetheart. You are always so strong. A minor

cut on Spence or Grace sends my heart racing and hands shaking so bad

I can barely put on a Mickey Mouse Band-Aid.”

I have no idea how you managed to give birth to two children—I

can’t even conceive of it. But you did, and remember when the doctor

put our daughter in your arms the first time? I cried. Me, who never

cries. And I didn’t care who saw me.

“You taught me how to love, Lauren. How to be a parent, a good

parent. You taught me patience, how to slow down and enjoy every

second of every day. You trusted me enough to show me love, true

love.”

I brush my lips over the bandage on your cheek. The doctor says

there shouldn’t be too much of a scar. But I don’t care. You’re alive. You

will always be beautiful to me. It’s finally quiet in the room. The constant

beeping of the damn machine finally silenced a few hours ago.

I promised myself I wouldn’t beg. Wouldn’t do anything to distract

you from getting well. But I can’t stand it any longer.

“Please, Lauren, wake up.”

My throat hurts. I’ve been talking for hours. Saying anything to

penetrate the darkness of the night. The darkness that surrounds me

has enclosed you in its grasp and you haven’t woken up. I won’t leave

you until you do.

“We need you, Lauren. Your smile lights up the room, your

warmth keeps the harshness of the world away. You are strong when

• 231 •

Breathless

we are weak. You carry us when we can’t go any farther. You guide

us when we don’t know what to do. We love you, sweetheart. No one

more than I do.”

There’s no stopping the tears now. I don’t care. I have no pride, no

life without you. The nurse is here again to check your vital signs. She’s

the same nurse I’ve seen for the last three nights. She looks at me and I

see an understanding smile before she leaves as quietly as she always

does. The door clicks closed.

I cry without making a sound. Until you and the kids, I’d always

wondered if I would ever be able to kill someone. There’s no doubt

about it now. Without question I could use my bare hands to kill anyone

who dared to lay a hand on my family.

I’m glad the nutcase who shot you is dead. Killed by the police

when they stormed your office. But I’m pissed I didn’t get the chance

to kill the son of a bitch myself. I barely remember the detective telling

me the details—some guy who’d lost custody of his children when you

proved to the judge he was a danger to them. As if the bruises on his

kids and his wife’s split lip and broken arm weren’t enough evidence.

My tears wet your hair. I know you don’t mind. Just like the other

times we’ve held each other and cried tears of joy and sorrow. The

prayer that repeated over and over again when our children were born

fills my mind and I say it again. I have to talk to God, plead for your

life.

“Please God, let her wake up. I don’t know what I’d do without

her. I can’t do it without her. I’ll do anything if you just let her wake

up.”

What am I saying? How selfish is that?

“God, don’t do it for me. Her children need her. They need their

mother. Please let her wake up.”

Please.

“Don’t cry, baby.”

The words are barely a whisper, but they sound like they’d been

shouted from the roof top. My heart soars, a wave of relief crashing

over me. The first rays of dawn are peeking through the mini blinds. It’s

Christmas morning and a light snow is falling.

I look into your eyes and I’m home.

• 232 •

about the editors

radclyffe has published over thirty-five romance and romantic

intrigue novels as well as dozens of short stories, has edited numerous

romance and erotica anthologies, and, writing as L.L. Raand, has

authored a paranormal romance series, The Midnight Hunters.

She is a seven-time Lambda Literary Award finalist in romance,

mystery, and erotica—winning in both romance ( Distant Shores,

Silent Thunder) and erotica ( Erotic Interludes 2: Stolen Moments

edited with Stacia Seaman, and In Deep Waters 2: Cruising the

Strip written with Karin Kallmaker) and a 2010 Prism award

winner for Secrets in the Stone. She is a member of the Saints and

Sinners Literary Hall of Fame, an Alice B. Readers’ award winner,

a Benjamin Franklin Award finalist ( The Lonely Hearts Club), and

a ForeWord Review Book of the Year Finalist ( Night Call in 2009;

Justice for All, Secrets in the Stone, and Romantic Interludes 2:

Secrets in 2010). Two of her titles ( Returning Tides and Secrets in

the Stone) are 2010 Heart Of Excellence Readers’ Choice finalists.

Writing as L.L. Raand she released the first Midnight Hunters

novel, The Midnight Hunt, in March 2010. Blood Hunt is due for

release March 2011. Her next First Responders novel, Firestorm, is

due in July 2011.

Visit her websites at www.llraand.com and www.radfic.com.

stacia seaman has edited numerous award-winning titles, and

with co-editor Radclyffe won a Lambda Literary Award for Erotic

Interludes 2: Stolen Moments; an Independent Publishers Awards

silver medal and a Golden Crown Literary Award for Erotic

Interludes 4: Extreme Passions; and an Independent Publishers

Awards gold medal and a Golden Crown Literary award for Erotic

Interludes 5: Road Games. Most recently, she has essays in Visible:

A Femmethology (Homofactus Press, 2009) and Second Person

Queer (Arsenal Pulp Press, 2009).

Document Outline

- Introduction

- Harvest Sins - Winter Pennington

- The Top - Lee Lynch

- The Twelve Days of Courtship - Nell Stark and Trinity Tam

- Miss December - Rebecca S. Buck

- Homemade - Erin Dutton

- Luminaria Light - Cate Culpepper

- Reindeer Roundup - D. Jackson Leigh

- Dreams: A Promise Kept - C.J. Harte

- Through the Eyes of a Child - Gun Brooke

- A Christmas Wish - PJ Trebelhorn

- Christmas in Chastilian - Lesley Davis

- Holiday Gnomosexuals - Clifford Henderson

- Making New Memories - MJ Williamz

- A Ghost of Christmas Past - Ali Vali

- Beautiful Burden - Lisa Girolami

- Love is the Key - Carsen Taite

- Merry Christmas from Down Under - Bobbi Marolt

- The AfterParty - Meghan O’Brien

- Ice Castles - Radclyffe

- Come Back to Me - Julie Cannon

Table of Contents

inTrOducTiOn

harVesT sins

The TOP

The TWelVe days OF cOurTshiP

miss december

hOmemade

luminaria lighT

reindeer rOunduP

dreams: a PrOmise kePT

ThrOugh The eyes OF a child

a chrisTmas Wish

chrisTmas in chasTilian

hOliday gnOmOsexuals

making neW memOries

a ghOsT OF chrisTmas PasT

beauTiFul burden

lOVe is The key

merry chrisTmas FrOm dOWn under

The aFTerParTy

ice casTles

cOme back TO me