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truelesbianlove.com

by

Carsen Taite

2008

TRUELESBIANLOVE.COM

© 2008 CARSEN TAITE. ALL RIghTS RESERVEd.

ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-069-2E

This Aeros Book is PuBlished By

Bold sTrokes Books, inc.,

P.o. Box 249

VAlley FAlls, ny 12185

originAl Bold sTrokes Booke eBook ediTion: ocToBer 2008

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

ProducTion design: sTAciA seAMAn

coVer design By Bold sTrokes Books grAPhics

acknowledgments

I’ve spent years talking about my dream of becoming a writer.

I used to say that one day when I find the time, I’m going to sit

down and write a book. Endless thanks to my wife and the rest

of my family for always believing, without a shred of evidence

to support it, that the day would finally come.

This story was inspired by the strong and wonderful friendships

I am lucky to have, my home city—the diverse and vibrant

Big D, and my unwavering belief in true love.

Thanks to my first readers and friends who encouraged and

critiqued my work in progress: Sherry, Christie, Barb, and

Tony. A special thanks to Brenda Adcock for mentoring me

through the creative process. Thanks also to Dr. Liland for his

advice about the medical profession.

Radclyffe and Jennifer Knight—I am flattered, honored, and

awestruck to be working with you and the rest of the BSB team.

I can’t imagine a more nurturing environment for a fledging

writer to learn the craft. Thank you for taking a chance on

me.

To my wife, Lainey, who put aside her volumes of nonfiction

to read a romance, of all things. Nothing was more inspiring

than not being able to write fast enough to satisfy your desire

to find out what happened next.

visit us at www.boldstrokesbooks.com

Dedication

For Lainey—my true love

truelesbianlove.com

chapter one

The soft weight of Shannon’s arms drew Dylan

closer. Her hands, palms flat, fingers reaching, slid

along Dylan’s hips. The heat emanating from her touch

was palpable. Dylan arched her back as Shannon moved

one hand upward to circle her aching breasts, coaxing

her nipples into fine points of pleasure.

“Shannon,” she gasped. “Why are you still

dressed?”

Shannon looked up from the side of Dylan’s neck,

where she’d left a trail of sultry kisses. “I haven’t a

clue.”

And with that less than profound statement, she

yanked her shirt over her head and leaned into Dylan’s

waiting arms. Her taut breasts were irresistible, crushed

hotly against Dylan’s. She…

“Mackenzie? Mac, are you in there? I need to talk to you,

right now.”

Sighing, Mackenzie Lewis slammed shut the pages of

Lost Lives, Lost Loves, undraped herself from the comfy sofa

where she’d been planted for the last hour, and propelled

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herself toward the door. When you own the business, you jump

when someone calls.

“What’s the problem?” She addressed the man standing in

the center of the small group assembled near a stack of crates

outside her office.

“The Fresh Stuff produce delivery is all wrong, again,” her

frazzled chef said. “I can’t keep overlooking their mistakes. I

know you want to help them get started in business, but if this

keeps happening, you won’t have business to give them.” He

waved at the crates. “Four extra cases of tomatoes and not

the right ones. I specifically ordered Heirloom and Roma. I

can’t work with Beefsteaks and I don’t have time to cook them

down into chutney we’ll never use.”

“Then perhaps we should wait until they spoil, so I can

throw them at temperamental chefs who interrupt me with

rants about produce.” Mac glanced around at the other staff.

“A tomato crisis is not a cause for everyone to abandon their

posts. Scatter!” She instructed Nick, “Send the Beefsteaks

to the Angel Network with my sincere apologies to all the

homebound patients who depend on their delivered meals, for

having to endure low-class tomatoes.”

She couldn’t help but smile at the pout planted firmly on

his face. Blond, blue-eyed Nick Walters was a striking figure,

making even his baggy chef pants look stylish. No wonder so

many cute guys flocked to the Lakeside in hopes of catching a

glimpse of him. Mac liked the balance he brought to the place.

She wanted her patio bar and restaurant to be a comfortable

spot for all members of the Dallas community. His ability to

draw a crowd was worth a few fits now and then.

“Business is good and the Lakeside is doing fine,”

she assured him. “We can afford to donate a few cases of

tomatoes.”

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“Fine, Mac, forgive me for trying to save you from your

charitable business practices.” Nick sighed dramatically. “If

you don’t mind, I’ll do the next produce order myself. I have a

reputation to protect, you know.”

Mac nodded. “That’s precisely why I hope you choose

to stay in Big D, my friend. I want your reputation to be my

reputation.”

She knew when New Orleans eventually recovered from

the ravages of Hurricane Katrina, there was a chance he

would return to work in his hometown. By then, she hoped the

thriving Dallas economy would encourage him to stay and rise

to culinary stardom here.

Nick finally let a slow, full smile creep across his face.

“I promise I won’t leave until after we close the kitchen

tonight.”

As he made his way toward the kitchen doors, Mac glanced

at her watch. Yes, she could grab another half hour curled up

with Lost Lives before the evening shift arrived. She turned

back toward her office and promptly stumbled into the arms

of a gorgeous redhead. Startled, she stared at her best friend,

Jordan Wagner. “Hey, Jordan. What’s up?”

“The girls are on the Dock.” Jordan referred to the covered

back patio of the Lakeside. “We’re checking out Batwoman. I

had no idea you were already here.”

Mac thought about the delicious chapter waiting on the

other side of the office door. Her friends could wait. She wasn’t

quite ready to socialize. “Look, I’m on my way to the office to

run some numbers. Order some food from the bar and I’ll meet

you girls back there in about an hour.”

“It’s the weekend. Numbers are for Mondays.” Jordan

grabbed Mac’s hand and pulled her away from the office

door. When Mac resisted, she cocked her head and eyed her

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suspiciously. “You look a little too anxious to get in there. I

seriously doubt it’s numbers you’re crunching. Got a hot date

waiting?”

“Didn’t you say something about Batwoman?” Mac

deflected.

Jordan shrugged. “Okay, I can take a hint.” As she walked

away, she added, “Let me know if you need any help.”

Once back in her secure den of an office, Mac reached for

her “hot date” and snuggled back onto her slipcovered sofa,

flipping through pages to find her place. She felt a twinge of

guilt for taking this small break from her day, not to mention

leaving her friends to fend for themselves. Lowering the

book, she glanced across her office, past the gravity bike rack

where her two favorite rides awaited her, a frosty silver white

Terry Isis road bike and a Trek Fuel EX 9 mountain bike.

The adjoining wall was lined with shelf after shelf of lesbian

romance novels, with a few mysteries sprinkled in here and

there to keep her from looking like a total lesbian Harlequin

junkie.

Obviously it wasn’t healthy to prefer the company of

imaginary characters in a book when she had friends waiting,

so she vowed she would finish the next chapter and emerge

before they gave up on her.

It had been an hour since their first touch, but

Shannon was just as responsive at sunrise as she’d been

at sunset. Dylan let her fingers drift over the hills and

valleys open to her exploration. As the ample mountains

of Shannon’s chest moved, she moved also and began

another ascent to ecstasy.

“What would you like me to do now, dear?” Dylan

asked her new lover, knowing the list of unexplored

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possibilities was shorter now than it had been the night

before.

“Well, darling, I want you to put one hand here.”

Shannon gently directed Dylan toward her left breast.

“And, the other hand here.” She gasped, motioning

to her right breast. “And your lovely and talented

tongue…”

The sharp ring of the office phone jerked Mac away from

the pages. Closing the book for good, she reached for the

phone, and snarled, “Hello?”

“Hello, yourself. Is that a demonstration of the fabulous

hospitality one can expect at the Lakeside?”

Recognizing the voice of her friend Aimee, Mac softened

her tone. “Sorry, I was trying to grab a few minutes, but that’s

apparently not possible.”

“Jordan said you were in your office with some woman

and we wanted to make sure you didn’t need our help.” Aimee

let loose a slight snicker as she spoke.

Hearing more giggles in the background, Mac resigned

herself to admiring the foxy lezzy superhero. “Fine, I’m on my

way. How can I resist all this clamoring for my attention?”

She tucked Lost Lives, Lost Loves behind a cushion

and made her way through the Lakeside Patio Bar & Grill,

enjoying the touch of exhilaration she felt every time she

realized this was her place. A walk through the restaurant was

more than a walk, it was a patrol. Though she maintained a

relaxed demeanor, her employees knew the Lakeside was her

baby and that she expected a good explanation for any bumps

and bruises that occurred while they took care of it. She swept

a quick look around the tricked-out commercial kitchen, the

heart of the restaurant. The shiny stainless surfaces were briefly

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immaculate in the interval before the dinner prep began. Nick

was in the house and he had no tolerance for clutter.

She continued out into the restaurant, stopping at the

stone and mosaic-tiled hostess stand located near the front

doors. She’d used the work of local artisans in the design of

the Lakeside, and this unique stand was a showpiece. The

surrounding walls formed a mini-gallery that sported a rotating

series of work by local artists. Sally Gannon, her restaurant

manager, was near the stand, showing their newest hostess the

ropes.

Mac paused to check in. “Need me for anything?”

Sally shook her head. She was a no-nonsense woman

who’d worked at the Lakeside since the doors opened. “Looks

like we’re in good shape for tonight. Have some fun and

don’t worry about a thing. Will your friends want to stay for

dinner?”

“No, we’ll graze a little and then head out. Jordan and I

have dates for the Resource Center fund-raiser later.”

Mac left the bar, which was situated near the front of the

restaurant, and strolled through the empty dining room to the

covered back patio of the restaurant. In the late afternoon hours

before dinnertime, most visitors to the Lakeside assembled on

the Dock to enjoy a taste of the outdoors. The patio offered

a fantastic view of White Rock Lake with the unique Dallas

skyline looming large in the background. The temperate

Dallas climate allowed the wood-framed glass doors that

stood between the guests and the lake to stay open most of

the year, and an abundance of ceiling fans kept things cool

during summer’s heat. The Dock was Mac’s favorite room in

the place. She and her friends spent many hours on this patio,

kicking back in the comfortable sofas and chairs that were

grouped as if in mini–living room settings. The reclaimed

hardwood floors of the restaurant interior extended out onto

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the Dock, giving the outside room the same cozy feel as the

interior.

Mac spotted her friends camped out as close to the open

glass doors as possible, obviously enjoying this sunny Saturday

afternoon. Jordan was leaning against the rail, looking on

as Aimee Howard read aloud to the rest of the group from

a magazine. Aimee owned a boutique real estate agency and

had made herself wealthy selling homes in some of Dallas’s

most unique neighborhoods. They’d known each other since

college, and it didn’t surprise Mac to see her addressing the

group as if she were holding court.

“Now, this is my dream girl,” Aimee said. “What a total

babe.”

Sliding up behind her, Mac remarked, “Talking about me

again?”

“Sweetie, you know I love you, but Kate Kane rocks my

world.”

“Who in the hell is Kate Kane, when did you met this

dream girl, and more importantly, when do we get to meet

her?” Mac demanded.

Aimee grinned and shook a comic under Mac’s nose.

“Finally, a lesbian superhero. Kate Kane is Batwoman. Tall,

gorgeous, a red-haired spitfire. Millionaire socialite by day

and sexy, powerful superhero by night.” She fluttered her

eyelashes. “That’s something we have in common.”

“Are we in time for an intervention?” Mac addressed the

friends sitting around the table. “Or have we lost Aimee to the

lures of the comic book girlfriend?”

She sometimes wondered if Aimee grew tired of being

badgered about her serial monogamy. Aimee typified the U-

Haul lesbian stereotype, except that her prospective soul mates

were usually the ones doing the moving in and out of Aimee’s

spacious Lake Highlands residence. Mac was secretly happy

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that Aimee’s travails distracted the group from their other

favorite topic, her own depressing love life.

“Hey, I’m no worse than you,” Aimee retorted. “Lusting

over all those woman in books. At least I actually get out

and date real women on occasion. Those who live in fantasy

worlds shouldn’t criticize those of us who make the occasional

trip into reality.”

“Ease up, girlfriend,” Mac protested. “I date. I have a date

tonight, in fact.”

Her friends guffawed as Aimee taunted, “Another Jordan

setup?”

“What if it is?” Mac tried not to sound defensive.

She couldn’t remember the last real date she had been on.

It was true that the last few times she had been out, it was

on a double date with Jordan. Devastatingly good looks and

a highly successful plastic surgery practice made Dr. Jordan

Wagner one of the hottest tickets in town. Somehow the

women she attracted always seemed to have a sidekick, and

Jordan would entreat Mac to make up a foursome. Mac found

the invitations convenient. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to

be dating someone, or that she wasn’t desirable herself, but it

seemed like such a pain to get out and meet women. Frankly,

she’d been on her own in the dating scene for so long, she

wasn’t even sure she knew where to start.

“Honey, you don’t need Jordan to get you a date.” Aimee

sought to soften her taunting. “You could have anyone you

wanted.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Mac glanced past

Aimee to the newly married couple of their circle. Megan

couldn’t seem to stop hugging her wife, making the usually

stoic Haley blush deep crimson. They appeared to be on cloud

nine. It probably helped that they’d fallen in love with real

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women, not fictional superheroes like Kate Kane. She wasn’t

quite as fortunate. “Where are these legions of desirable

women from whom I can have my pick? It’s not like they’re

parading themselves by my house asking for a date.”

“Yeah, well, you kind of have to give it some effort,”

Aimee said. “You know, put yourself out there where they can

find you.”

“Then you’ll be happy to know what I’m doing tonight.

I’m taking what is sure to be a beautiful woman to the Resource

Center benefit, and maybe she’ll be my soul mate.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll be beautiful,” Aimee said. “But have

any of Jordan’s setups been soul-mate material so far?”

“Hold on there, matchmaker,” Jordan objected. “What’s

this about a soul mate? Are you suggesting it’s impossible to

have a good time on a date unless you think she’s a marriage

prospect? In my experience, thoughts like that can kill an

evening.”

“Well, I will concede that your experience is vast,” Aimee

teased.

“Hey, I’m not ashamed of the fact I put myself out there. In

my line of work, I think it’s important to be an ardent observer

of the human form.” Jordan illustrated her point by drawing

curves in the air with both hands.

“Sure, Dr. Wagner, you can call your serial dating

‘research.’But we all know you’re only interested in one thing,

and once you get it, you move on to the next ‘experiment.’”

“Ouch. It’s a dirty job.”

“Enough, you two.” Mac interrupted the friendly sparring

and playfully pushed her best friends apart.

“Break it up, ladies,” Nick called as he approached.

“Your food is here and I won’t have your fighting ruin the

presentation.”

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Aimee glanced longingly at the platters of scrumptious-

looking appetizers. “Don’t worry, the only fighting we’ll be

doing from here on out is over the last morsel.”

Turning to Mac, Nick said, “Sorry to disturb the festivities,

but your assistance is needed in the bar, something to do with

beer, ice, and not enough glasses.”

“Don’t wait on me, girls. There’s no telling how long I’ll

be.” Mac grabbed a crab cake off the nearest platter. “Jordan,

are you picking me up tonight?”

“Yes, see you at your place at seven.”

As she walked away, Mac heard Aimee ask, “Who’s Mac’s

date? Is she hot?”

“A ten out of ten, and very willing,” Jordan replied. “If

Mac doesn’t score with her, we’d better start thinking about

an intervention.”

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chapter two

Lacy Holmes was definitely a ten, leggy and gorgeous,

an international flight attendant with raven hair and

deep blue eyes that created the perfect contrast for her fair

skin. She had a beautiful smile that dazzled all who glanced

her way, and she was sending all the right signals. Yet, looking

at her, Mac felt nothing.

“Would you like to dance?” Lacy whispered in her ear.

The music was Queen, not exactly groovin’, but dancing

seemed like a good way to avoid the complete disintegration

of their conversation. Lacy was nice enough, but so far all

she’d wanted to talk about was shopping or dining out. Current

events and politics either didn’t interest her or were outside

her repertoire. Mac couldn’t tell which and wasn’t sure if she

cared enough to figure it out.

She offered her hand to Lacy. “Sure, let’s dance.”

As they reached the dance floor, the music changed to a

slow, swaying tune. Lacy clasped her hands around Mac’s waist

and eased in close as they moved together. Mac let herself relax

and follow Lacy’s lead, musing to herself how much easier it

was to lose herself in the music than in the woman she was

holding. Beyoncé’s “Naughty Girl” blared from the speakers.

Noting the song sampled “Love to Love You Baby” by Donna

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Summer, Mac smiled. Retro music was the best music, she

concluded, letting her gaze trawl the room.

The place was packed with politicians, socialites, and

well-heeled members of the Dallas gay and lesbian community.

She caught sight of Jordan and her date, heads together and

seemingly deep in conversation. Her mind flashed through

a collection of high school dance memories. In those scenes

she was the one with Jordan, leaning close to exchange deep

teenage revelations while their dates sat idly by, dreaming of

more intimate acts that would never happen. The music was

pretty much the same back then as it was tonight. Now, every

time she heard a song by the Bangles, Janet Jackson, or Gloria

Estefan, memories of good times shared with Jordan sprang

to mind.

From the moment they’d met, she’d known they would

always be friends. Jordan’s beauty drew her in, but her steadfast

loyalty won Mac’s heart and they’d been inseparable for years.

She glanced again at her best friend and wondered what in

the world she had in common with her willowy brunette date.

Other than beauty, Mac could think of nothing. The woman

was a model, so Mac couldn’t imagine she shared the same

types of experiences as Jordan, certainly not enough to craft

a deep and meaningful conversation. They looked fantastic

together, almost a perfect match. The brunette wore a slinky

black gown and Jordan was elegant in a jet-black Armani suit

and Manolo Blahnik sling-back sandals pushing her well over

the six-foot mark. They were probably talking about how

many times and places they were going to do it when they left

here tonight, Mac decided.

As if reading her mind, Lacy angled in for a kiss. Lost in

the sway of the dance, Mac met her lips. The kiss was light,

smooth, and nice. Well, thought Mac, maybe she and Lacy

could talk about how many times and places they would do it

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when they left the party. She kissed her date again, lingering

this time. Another nice kiss, but not a firework in sight. She

persevered and Lacy responded in kind, her lips locking on

and her breasts rising and falling more heavily against Mac’s.

Their tongues slid together just enough to make Mac realize

her mouth was dry, like the rest of her. There was nothing

wrong with Lacy’s technique, and her breath was minty, but

nice wasn’t enough to spur a night of passion.

Mac began to ease out of her grasp, but Lacy wasn’t letting

go. Leaning her head back to expose more of her throat, she

gazed into Mac’s eyes and asked, “Want to take me home?”

Mac paused for a long moment, knowing she would be

one of the few to decline such an offer from the beautiful

Ms. Lacy Holmes. Then she burst into a big, wide yawn she

couldn’t hide. “Actually, I’m very tired and I have to be at the

restaurant early in the morning. Would you mind terribly if we

left now?”

Mac could tell that Lacy was disappointed at the abrupt

announcement that the evening was coming to an end. Her hand

moved slowly down Mac’s hip. Her stare become inviting. She

made it clear that she had a different take on Mac’s request.

“An early night wasn’t what I had in mind, but you’re right.

Why wait until we’re running out of energy?”

Mac wavered for an instant, attempting to reason with

herself. Maybe she was having some kind of confidence crisis

and her reluctance would instantly vanish once she got Lacy

home and they were alone. The perfect solution to a libido

deficit was standing right in front of her. This gorgeous woman

probably had flings in every layover city, so there would be no

complications if they didn’t call each other the next day. Mac

didn’t have to marry her. What was the problem?

Puzzled and rather embarrassed by her lack of interest,

she said something noncommittal and guided Lacy back to

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the table. Jordan was so engrossed in her glamorous date, she

didn’t notice them until Mac cleared her throat noisily and

asked, “Jordan, are you about ready to go? I have an early

morning tomorrow.”

Jordan, eyes still on the brunette, replied, “Sure you do,

Mac. Don’t you mean you want to get started on a late night,

tonight?”

Mac stifled a sigh. Jordan was the designated driver,

otherwise they wouldn’t have to have this conversation. She

knew she should have brought her own car. “Jordan, if you’re

not ready to leave, I’ll get a cab.”

The sharpness in her tone grabbed Jordan’s attention and

she eased out of her chair telling her date, “I’m going to go

collect our silent auction winnings with Mac. We’ll be right

back.” She grabbed Mac’s arm and propelled her to the edge

of the ballroom, leaving the other women staring after them.

“Why do you want to go? I thought you were having a good

time.”

“I’ve had a great time, but it’s late and I have to help with

the new menu tasting tomorrow.”

“What about Lacy? She looks like she wants to spend

more time with you.”

“Lacy’s fine, but I don’t want to sleep with her. I want to

go home. Alone.”

“Okay, I’ll take you. It’s impossible to get a cab in

Dallas.”

“Thank you. I promise I’ll only cramp your style for the

short time it’ll take to drive me home.”

Jordan gave her an odd look. “I’m not worried about that.

Look, I’m sorry you’re not enjoying yourself. I thought the

two of you would hit it off.”

“Why, Jordan? Because we’re both the same height?”

Mac snapped. Catching herself, she backed off. “I’m sorry.

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I’m tired. I’ll admit she is gorgeous, but somewhat lacking in

the depth department. Pretty is nice, but it doesn’t top the list

of things I am looking for in a lover. I need someone I can talk

to about more than the latest shoe sale at Nordstrom.”

Jordan gave her a conciliatory hug. “Why, dear, you have

me for that.”

v

“If I were you, I would sell my house and live here on the

Dock.” Aimee leaned her head back and took in a lungful of

the crisp air skimming across the lake. She folded the Sunday

newspaper she’d been skimming and placed it on the table

beside her. “Nick could make all the wonderful snacks you’d

need and you could have one of the cuties here wait on you

hand and foot. Every once in a while you could hook up with

a well-sculpted cyclist fresh off the trail and looking for a little

refreshment, if you know what I mean.”

Mac closed her book. “Yeah, maybe I should take that

advice. I could loaf around out here and still stay connected

to the outside world.” She leaned back on the cushioned deck

chair and crossed her legs. “We’re offering free wireless for

customers now.”

“Not before time,” Aimee said. “I spend half my life on

blogs. You could even post a site-of-the-day on the specials

board for the folks who want to use the Internet for its intended

purpose—fun.”

“What kind of fun are we discussing today?” a voice called

from the trail that ran below the deck, and Jordan approached,

obviously fresh from a ride. Her hair was slightly mussed and

she wore bike shorts, a Pearl Izumi jersey, and cleated Sidi

cycling shoes. She locked her bike on the rack at the edge of

the deck before striding up to the Dock.

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“Speaking of well-sculpted cyclists, look who decided to

join us instead of bathing.” Aimee scooted way over on the

lounger as if to give Jordan plenty of space as she passed by.

“I carry the scent of good health,” Jordan said, sliding

her fingers back through her copper waves. “Thirty miles and

I was barely warmed up when I realized what time it was.

Thought I better head on over here before Mac fed my brunch

to the birds. What kind of fun are we discussing?”

“Mac’s joined the modern age and installed Wi-Fi at the

restaurant,” Aimee said.

“That’s terrific.” Jordan settled herself on the lounger only

inches from Aimee, who waved her away while pinching her

nose. “Mind if I check my e-mail while we wait on brunch?

I want to send a quick thank-you to my lovely date for last

night. She was asleep when I left this morning.”

“I can’t believe you had the energy to ride thirty miles this

morning after playing the ardent lover all night,” Mac remarked.

Actually, she was surprised at how great Jordan looked after

a night of physical activity followed by a morning of more of

the same. Her sleeveless jersey and tight bike shorts showed

off every well-formed muscle, and her toned and tanned body

glowed from her exertions.

“Can’t you call her on the phone like normal women do

the morning after?” Aimee asked.

“E-mail is definitely not romantic,” Mac added.

“We can’t all be as romantic as the main characters in your

beloved romance novels,” Jordan replied casually. “And after

the night we had, she’s probably still sleeping. It wouldn’t be

very charming of me to wake her with the abrupt ringing of a

phone. If I send her an e-mail, she can read it and respond at

her leisure. Also, most importantly, I can be short and to the

point.”

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“Translation…” Mac mused aloud. “You won’t get put on

the spot with questions like ‘when will I see you again?’”

Before Jordan could respond, Aimee chimed in, “I don’t

see what’s wrong with a morning-after e-mail instead of the

obligatory phone call. Look at how many online dating sites

there are out there. Web sites are replacing bars and e-mail is

replacing phone calls. Everything is virtual.”

“Sounds like a great way to meet the woman of one’s

dreams,” Mac said with irony. “I could just sit around at home

in my pj’s and ‘date’ online.”

Jordan interjected, “Now, wait a minute. I think e-mail’s

great, but it’s no substitute for real-life encounters. I need to

see what I’m getting myself into before I invest my time.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want to throw away a whole evening

finding out what someone thought or who they were,” Aimee

retorted. “Don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to

spend time actually chatting with your conquests without

physical distractions.”

“I’m not distracted by things physical, they’re the focus.

It’s all the chatting that can make me lose interest.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Aimee told Mac. “She may be

hopeless, but you don’t have to be. Sign up on one of the dating

sites. You never know, you might meet someone special.”

“Mac had a beautiful woman right in her arms last night

and still went home alone,” Jordan remarked. “Do you seriously

think it’s going to be easier for her to find the perfect mate?”

“She was beautiful,” Mac admitted. “But we had nothing

in common. I’m looking for more in a relationship.”

“I had no idea you were so serious about finding Ms.

Right.”

Slightly annoyed, Mac said, “You’re so busy fixing me up

with one-night stands, you haven’t been listening.”

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“Well, forgive me for trying to find someone you’d be

interested in.”

“What about you, Jordan?” Aimee ignored their bickering.

“Your hunt-and-gather method doesn’t seem to be working for

Mac. Have you had more luck?”

“I’m not complaining,” Jordan replied. “I have fun.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“Jordan isn’t looking for true love,” Mac said, earning a

sharp stare from her best friend.

“Sure, it’s enough to have us adoring her.” Aimee fluttered

her eyelashes.

Laughing, Jordan said, “I’ve never said I don’t want a

long-term relationship…sometime.”

“I have an idea.” Aimee grinned. “Why don’t you both

look online? Let’s see who meets someone special first.”

When Jordan hesitated, Mac said, “I’ll do it if you will. We

can compare notes. I bet you dinner, prepared by the winner,

you make a date before I do.”

Jordan gave a resigned shrug. “Can’t pass up that bet.

When do we start?”

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chapter three

Truelesbianlove dot com?” Mac studied the screen

Aimee had gleefully opened.

“That’s ambitious marketing,” Jordan noted. “Who’s

going to find true love on a Web site?”

“Ignore her, Mac. The World Wide Web is big enough for

both of you to find what you’re looking for.” Aimee situated

the laptop where they could all see the screen. “Read some of

the profiles before you try writing one. Maybe you’ll even see

someone interesting you can reply to.”

Jordan took over and began scrolling through the listings

of women seeking women in the Dallas area. “I can tell already

that poor spelling and grammar are going to drive Mac crazy.”

She chuckled as she looked through the list. “Of course,

that leaves plenty more women for me, since I’m willing to

overlook improper use of apostrophes if everything else is up

to standard.”

“What you’re saying is, if the woman’s a babe, then it

doesn’t matter if she can’t write her way out of a paper bag,”

Mac retorted. “Fine, you can have all the women who didn’t

bother to post a picture since your standards don’t include

looks.”

• 25 •

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“Oh, now you’re making fun of me because I have

standards other than ‘how does she look in a swimsuit?’”

“Sounds like this is going well.” A hand landed on Mac’s

shoulder and Megan leaned over her to inspect the screen.

“Sorry we’re late,” Haley said, pulling up another chair.

“What are y’all doing?”

“We thought for sure you would have started eating

without us,” Megan added. “Haley worked night shift, so it

took us a while to get here.”

“No problem,” Mac said. Haley was a paramedic for the

Dallas Fire Department and often spent her weekends on long,

stressful shifts dealing with the chaos big-city life could dish

out. Aimee waved to the couple, “We’re researching the

world of online dating. Jordan and Mac need to spread the net

wider.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve finally exhausted your dating pool.”

Megan elbowed Jordan playfully.

“Yes, I’ve spent at least one night with every available

woman in Dallas. Now I need the power of the Internet to help

me locate and satisfy the remaining few.” Jordan rolled her

eyes at the ensuing silence. “I’m kidding, people. Hell, you

really do think I am a shallow sex fiend.”

Megan hugged her tightly. “No, we don’t, sweetie. I think

you truly like all the women you date, but you talk about your

conquests like they don’t matter. I sometimes wonder why you

minimize your feelings about them. Is it because you’re intent

on appearing to dodge the commitments of a relationship?”

“Ah, spoken like a true psychotherapist. Save it for the

paying customers, sister.”

Megan was a psychologist in private practice. She and

Jordan had a professional relationship that had blossomed into

a friendship, bringing Megan and Haley into Mac’s circle.

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Megan’s tendency to analyze everyone was a running joke

among the friends, and she took their teasing in good humor.

“Are you telling me I’m way off base?” Megan asked

Jordan.

“I like women, lots of them. My penchant for variety

precludes a relationship like the one you have.”

Megan grinned. “You mean married bliss?”

“Let’s just say I don’t need all the warm fuzzies you

relationship lovers seem to crave. Walks in the rain, sharing

coffee over the morning paper, leaning arm in arm over the

balcony to watch a beautiful sunset. Don’t get me wrong, I like

romance, but I see myself doing all of those things with many

different women for the rest of my life, not the same one, day

after day. At least I’m honest about what I want.”

“Well, that kind of honesty isn’t going to net you many

responses online,” Haley chimed in. “Most of the profiles here

are from women looking to find that special someone.”

“I bet a lot of them want exactly what I do, but they don’t

think it’s PC to admit it,” Jordan said. “They’ll come out of the

woodwork when they see they’re not alone. I’m going to write

an honest profile. Maybe I’ll start a trend.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Mac moved closer to the

computer. “Can we see what’s out there now so I can start

wading in the world wide dating pool?”

Aimee began typing. “Let’s start with age range. Thirty to

thirty-five, within twenty-five miles of Dallas…”

Mac stopped her. “Twenty-five miles! That could mean

two hours in bad traffic. Make it ten.”

“You can always narrow the search later, but if it’s not

broad enough to begin with, you may not get many results.”

“Great, what happens when she falls in love with the

profile of a woman who lives too far away for convenient

dating?” Haley commented.

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“She’ll either get over it or decide not to let silly things

like distance interfere with true love.” As she typed, Aimee

asked, “Is anyone else hungry?”

“Don’t worry,” Mac replied. “Nick’s about to parade

out the entire new menu for you to sample. Do we have any

matches yet?”

“Here you go. Eighteen women waiting for you to lavish

them with your affection. All but three have pictures.”

Jordan leaned in. “Delete those three. Seriously, Mac, it’s

not a matter of looks versus personality. The fact that they don’t

have a picture should tell you something about their sense of

security with their appearance.”

“Maybe they don’t want the whole world to know they’re

trawling for dates on an online site,” Mac said.

“Then they should find another way to meet people. I say

if you are going to put yourself out there, do it all the way.”

“First up, LuvintheCity. She’s five-five, slender build,

auburn hair. Lives with a roommate, college degree…”

Mac groaned. “Her picture’s not bad, but I have this

phobia about people who feel the need to alter the spelling of

words to be cute. Luv? Now isn’t that cute?”

“Fine, no cute spellings.” Aimee gestured at the monitor.

“Which rules out almost all these profiles. Shall I just close the

search down, Mac, or can you get over it?”

“Is that a prom dress?” Jordan pointed at a picture before

Mac could reply. “And who is that woman in the other picture

with her? Looks like they’re about to rip each other’s clothes

off.” Megan joined in. “What’s the point of a pic like that?

Is she trying to prove she’s been found attractive by at least

one other female? ‘This woman thinks I am beautiful and you

should too. Text me now!’”

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“Check this one out.” Jordan pointed at another thumbnail pic. “Is that a mullet?”

Aimee clapped her hands together. “Ladies, please. We

could sit here all day making fun of other people’s profiles,

but if you want to start meeting some women, you need to start

writing your own. First you need a handle. Pick something

short and catchy that conveys who you are or what you’re

looking for.”

“Handle?” Mac frowned. “It’s not like we’re truckers

looking for love on our CB radios.”

“So, are you saying you want me to put your real name

online?” Aimee asked sarcastically. “And maybe your social

security number too, so that you can’t possibly be accused of

hiding behind a user ID?”

Jordan laughed. “I have the perfect handle for myself.

‘Skin Deep.’”

Aimee tsked. “Is that really the message you want to

convey?”

“Absolutely. Type it up, Ms. Howard.”

Aimee glanced at Mac. “Who are you going to be? Please

pick something a little more subtle than our doctor friend.”

“How about ‘Laker Gal’?”

“Okay, there are some basic questions to whip through.

You’re both out lesbians, not bi. You live alone. You’re single,

never been married, no kids. Do either of you want kids?”

“I thought that was the beauty of being lesbian.” Mac

replied. “We don’t have to have to prove ourselves by having

children.”

“Well spoken,” Jordan said.

“I’ll take that as a no to the kid question.” Aimee continued

to type. “Now, let’s talk about physical appearance. We have

a drop-down menu for overall looks. Here are your choices.

• 29 •

carsen taite

‘People whistle when I walk by. All my other girlfriends

thought I looked good. I clean-up real well.’ Or, ‘My mother

thinks I am adorable.’ Which is it, girls?”

“Hell, I don’t know,” Mac said. “I do clean up okay and I

guess I am reasonably attractive.”

Jordan punched her in the arm. “Who are you kidding?

People definitely whistle, if they can pick their tongues up off

the floor, when you walk by. You’re gorgeous.”

Mac blushed. “Well, coming from Dallas’s premier

connoisseur of good looks, that’s quite a compliment.”

Looking closely at her best friend, Jordan thought indeed

Mac was a looker. Certainly, this wasn’t a new realization,

but it had been a long time since she’d thought objectively

about Mac’s beauty. She was somewhere around five-six or

five-seven. Her cyclist body boasted a lean, athletic build cut

in all the right places. Her thick, blond hair was cut in a sassy,

short style that Mac wore slightly spiked. Her face glowed

from sun and outdoor exercise. Honey brown eyes reflected

her love of life and laughter. Yes, she was definitely likely to

draw compliments from passersby, whistles included.

“Aimee, check the ‘people whistle’ comment for both

of us,” Jordan ordered. Turning back to Mac, she explained,

“You may as well show confidence. It’s more attractive than

modesty.”

“Fine,” Aimee said. “Now you have to write something

about yourself and what you’re looking for, in your own

words.” She turned the laptop toward Jordan. “You go first.

Something tells me you already know exactly what you want

to say.”

As Jordan typed, the rest of the group congregated at the

far end of the Dock to allow her to write uninterrupted. She

didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about what she was writing.

The words flowed easily from a store of life experience. This

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little online adventure would only serve one purpose for her,

and that was to demonstrate that deep romantic relationships

were nothing more than a sham. No matter what people said

about true love and undying commitment, staying power was

only as strong as the depth of physical desire. Life’s lessons

had made that truth clear, and Jordan lived by the principle

that true love didn’t exist.

She stopped typing and reviewed her missive:

Skin Deep’s Message to Prospective Matches:

Who are we kidding? Basic physical attraction is

the foundation of all intimate relationships. If my

picture on this site doesn’t get you going, you’re

not going to contact me, no matter what I say

about myself. I will tell you this: What you see is

what you get, and I expect the same. I promise

if you live up to your end of the bargain, we can

have a date that fulfills even the most spectacular

expectations. My motto is: anything goes. If you’re

looking for true love and forever after, I am not for

you. I won’t tie you up, not with relationship strings

anyway, and either one of us can decide when

enough is enough.

Jordan paused before saving her work. She could imagine

what the group would say, but she didn’t get why everyone

thought it was mandatory to pair off into happy couples,

especially when it was clear that there was no such thing.

Relationships didn’t last, no matter how hard couples tried.

With a slight pang, she glanced at the newly married Megan

and Haley, then hit the Save button and announced, “I’m

done.”

“Well, that took all of two minutes.” Aimee paused

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between bites of a thin crust pizza. “Let’s see what all the

online babes are going to learn about you.”

“It won’t take long.” Jordan slid the laptop across the table

and picked up a plate. The food looked delicious.

As she made her selections, Aimee read Skin Deep’s

brief philosophy on love and romance aloud, punctuating the

sharp words with disparaging facial expressions. By the time

she finished reading, her face was scrunched into wrinkles of

disbelief. “Is this the best you could do? Couldn’t you at least

act like you’re trying to meet someone?”

“Why should I?” Jordan sliced into a delicate phyllo

pastry triangle. “You started this little experiment and I’m

only participating so I can prove my theory that not everyone

online is looking for love. I’m sure lots of women are scared to

admit their innermost desires in case their friends think they’re

shallow. You gals already think I am shallow, so I have nothing

to lose. I’m using my shallowness to flush out the rest of the

fun-loving woman on the Web.”

“You’re hopeless.” Aimee moved the computer in Mac’s

direction. “Ready?”

“Sure, why not. But I may need more than the two minutes

Jordan took.”

As her friends ate and chatted, Mac stared blankly at the

computer screen, willing inspiration to take over. God knew,

she didn’t share her best friend’s philosophy. Jordan’s cynical

take on love was distasteful, yet Mac wasn’t sure whether she

could articulate her own. She wasn’t completely certain what

she believed about love and the path toward it. She’d had a

good example of true love while growing up. Her parents

couldn’t have been more perfect for one another, and their

every action demonstrated their deep commitment and undying

love. They’d first met in college when their eyes locked across

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a crowded room. According to her mother, time had stopped

and no one else existed in that magic moment. The story had

always seemed so clichéd, but cliché or not, their love was

proof that romance wasn’t dead. She should be so lucky to find

something even close to what they had.

Concentrating, she typed:

Laker Gal seeks deep waters.

I’m a successful entrepreneur and, like most

business owners, I’ve spent years being wed to

my work. It’s time for me to find a new relationship.

My interests are diverse and surely some will

intersect with yours. I love road and mountain

cycling, romance novels, and great food. Where

our interests diverge, perhaps we can each learn

to love new things.

I, like you, believe in forever. We may not fall

in love at first sight, but from our first glance we’ll

know there’s a spark to be kindled. The feeling will

be empowering, igniting us to fan the flame. We’ll

burn only for each other. There will be challenges

to overcome. Winds of change will threaten to

extinguish what we’ve built and we’ll have to learn

to feed the fire. No matter what, we will always

remember how our love began, and nothing will

quell the heat of our passion and commitment to

each other.

If you want what I want, let’s meet and see if

there’s a spark. Perhaps we’ll start a fire that will

burn forever.

As she read the words for the third time, Mac reflected

that she was indeed a true romantic. She knew Jordan would

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poke fun, and that confirmed her belief that the message was

exactly right, the very antithesis of Jordan’s invitation for a

quickie.

“All right, gang,” she said. “Want to know how I’m going

to attract my future wife?”

Her ears burned as she read aloud her declaration to the

unknown future love interest. Only when she finished and her

friends started clapping did she start to shake her embarrassment

at having bared her feelings. Turning from her fans, she caught

Jordan looking off into space with a strange expression on her

face. Her features quickly spread into a wide grin when she

met Mac’s eyes.

“You think that’s going to find you everlasting love?”

There was a faint edge to her voice.

Mac shrugged. “I have nothing to lose.”

“Except your illusions.” Jordan gave her a pitying smile.

“Are you really sure you want to do this?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then let’s post these and prepare to fend off the women.”

Jordan ate a dip-smeared carrot stick and slowly licked the

residue off her fingers.

• 34 •

truelesbianlove.com

chapter Four

What a crazy week,” Mac sighed as she kicked off

her shoes and flopped onto her living room sofa.

She usually worked only weekdays, but Sally Gannon had

been out of town for the weekend on a trip planned well before

the blistering heat wave showed up on the weather map. The

oppressive temperatures sent Dallas residents packing from

their own hot kitchens to flock into the cool, carefree dining

at the Lakeside. Mac didn’t feel confident enough to leave

their less experienced assistant manager alone with the large

crowds, so she’d worked from open to close both Saturday and

Sunday. Though thankful for the business, she was glad that

the week was over and that Sally would be back at the helm

starting Monday morning.

She planned to do nothing but lie around in her boxers for

the next two days. Maybe she would force herself out the door

to see Jordan. The leisurely brunch a week earlier felt like a

distant memory, and she hadn’t heard from Jordan since. She

could imagine why. Jordan was probably trying to keep up

with e-mail from the online dating venture. Mac got off the

sofa and went into the kitchen in search of a glass of wine.

The room had been redesigned when she renovated the house

several years earlier. Copper pots and pans secured on ceiling

• 35 •

carsen taite

hooks complemented a Viking range and wall oven. Around

the walls, plentiful cabinets showcased a collection of colorful

Fiesta dinnerware and shiny Riedel barware.

Mac plucked a wineglass from one of the cabinets and

took a bottle of Santa Margherita from the countertop wine

cooler. She poured a healthy dose of the Pinot Grigio and

switched on her Bose sound system. The latest Indigo Girls

CD cranked up and filled the room with earthy harmonies.

Mac sat at the rough-hewn wooden table, sipping from the

cool glass and contemplating the blinking lights on her laptop

computer. She hadn’t read her personal e-mail all week but

knew she had messages. She wasn’t sure why she’d put off

opening them. Yes, she’d been busy dealing with business

matters, but not that busy. And it wasn’t as if they’d know she

had flour in her hair and raspberry sauce all over her shirt as

she read the replies.

Flipping open the lid, she watched the screen come to life.

At first she’d been leery about providing her personal e-mail

account details to the dating site, imagining spam problems

and even the occasional e-stalker. But truelesbianlove.com

used a blind system so no one received her e-mail address. It

was totally up to her whether she gave it out once she got to

know someone.

She signed on and quickly scanned her messages before

dealing with a couple of routine communications. All the

while she was aware of the truelesbianlove.com replies lying

in wait for her like landmines. Unsure of what she was about

to trigger, she considered deleting all of them and removing

her profile. Was it wise to invite fate into her orderly life? She

took a deep breath and decided to find out.

Dear Laker Gal,

I like your name. I guess from your profile

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that you live near one of the many lakes that

surround Dallas. I do too, and I love it. I’m an avid

fisherwoman and spend all my free time out on

my boat trying to catch the big one. I’m looking for

a woman who is not afraid of the sun, baiting her

own hooks, or scaling her catch. Cooking it up, on

the other hand, is a duty that we can both share.

How about it? Are you up for some fishing that’s

not online?

Hope to hear from you soon,

Lookin4theBigOne

Mac laughed out loud. Did Lookin4theBigOne even read

her profile in full before she expressed an interest? Mac clicked

on the link that brought up her admirer’s profile. There were

several photographs of a trim, athletic young butch standing

in various poses designed to demonstrate that she was handy

with a boat and fishing equipment. Okay, she wasn’t bad

looking, but Mac’s idea of a good time did not involve putting

worms and bugs on hooks and then sitting around for hours

waiting for the “big one” to come along. She started to delete

the e-mail, but paused. She wasn’t interested in fishing, but

they might have other interests in common. Maybe she should

at least write back and find out. But what if fishing was this

woman’s only interest? Mac would sooner be poked in the

head with sharp sticks than have to listen to fish tales.

The phone rang as she deliberated, sparing her from

having to make a decision. She answered and was relieved to

hear her older brother Marty’s voice.

“Hey, Mac. How’re you doing?”

“Lying around living the life of the rich and famous,” she

joked.

“I figured as much. I always told you the restaurant

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business would lead to a life of luxury. How in the world do

you manage to fill your days?” Marty teased back.

They both knew better. Their parents had run a popular

East Dallas diner for years. Mac and Marty, along with their

brothers, had spent many hours after school and on weekends

waiting tables, washing dishes, and doing prep work in the

kitchen. After college, their brothers had sworn they would

never darken the door of a restaurant again unless they had a

reservation, but Mac had loved every minute of the experience.

After getting her business degree from the University of Texas,

she returned to East Dallas to manage the diner as her parents

eased into retirement.

She was devastated when they were killed in a car wreck

before they could ever do all they’d envisioned. Their sudden

death made the good memories of the work they had shared

too painful, and Mac had felt the four walls of the diner closing

in. She’d sold the business and bought the property that soon

became the Lakeside Patio Bar & Grill. Pouring her grief into

the new venture, she found solace in carrying on her parents’

tradition, hosting Dallasites looking for great food in a great

atmosphere.

“What can I do for you, dear brother?” she asked.

“Alice wanted me to check if you’re coming to Jeremy’s

birthday party?”

Mac recalled an invitation her sister-in-law had sent

through the mail. She’d forgotten to reply. “Saturday after

next, right?”

“Yep. We’ve rented a bounce house and we’re doing a

backyard barbeque. You don’t have to cook, serve, or wash

dishes, I swear.”

“I’d love to come,” Mac said. “You know I always make

my appearances as the favorite aunt. What should I get him?”

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“Anything to do with Spider-Man is a good bet. I’m glad

you can make it. We haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I know. It’s summer.” She knew she didn’t have to explain

the busiest period of the year to her brother.

“Feel free to bring someone if you want,” he said. “Are

you seeing anyone?”

“Subtle, Marty. No, I’m not seeing anyone. I might bring

Jordan if that’s okay. I think she’s been going through a little

family withdrawal lately.”

Jordan was virtually alone and had depended on the Lewis

family ever since high school, when her mother had fought

a long battle with cancer. Mac recalled the many late nights

she’d held her distraught friend while Mrs. Wagner lay in the

next room with hospice workers easing her into acceptance

of the certainty of death. In between the long, draining visits

at her mother’s bedside, Jordan had spent hours at home with

Mac.

Life in the Lewis household was busy but laid back, and

Mac’s parents made a point of making their children’s friends

feel at home. As a result, the place was always full of teenagers.

Mac knew Jordan saw the Lewises as her second set of parents

and their home as hers, also. The pattern continued through

college, with Jordan spending many weekends with her, doing

laundry and eating home-cooked meals.

Years of familiarity allowed Mac to read her best friend’s

thoughts. She could sense when Jordan was replaying the loss,

not only of her own mother, but of Mac’s parents as well. Mac

thought a day with the Lewis family was in order.

“Bring her along,” Marty said. “I was only wondering if

there was anyone special yet.”

“Well, to be honest, I am kind of looking, but it’s a slow

process.”

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“If you’re looking within the four walls of the Lakeside, I

bet it’s slow. You should get out more.”

“I suppose you think you’re the first one to deliver that

sage advice. Not to worry, big brother, I’ve expanded my search

to the Internet. Aimee talked me into signing up with one of

those online dating sites. In fact, I was reading a message from

a potential prospect when you called.”

“Well, when you finally decide to put yourself out there,

you certainly go all the way. How’s the prospect? Why don’t

you bring her along to the party?”

“Jeez, Marty, we haven’t even met. I don’t even know

if I’m going to write her back. She spends all her free time

fishing, from what I can tell. I can’t picture myself baiting

hooks and cleaning fish.”

“Are you going to sit around and wait for Ms. Right to

come along, or are you answering ads too?”

“Don’t hassle me. I barely started this little venture.”

“True love doesn’t happen on its own, sis. Sometimes you

have to go looking for it. Sometimes you even have to fight

for it.”

Mac was curious about the conviction her brother

expressed, but she brushed it off. “When it’s right, it will

happen. Look at Mom and Dad. They weren’t looking for true

love, but they found it the very first time they laid eyes on each

other.”

“They loved each other, that’s for sure. But that story about

how they met didn’t include all the complicating factors.”

Marty’s voice tightened slightly. “Couples are often nostalgic

about their first encounter. They want it to conform to the love-

at-first-sight fantasy we all like to believe in. But the truth is,

falling in love can be a messy process. As for staying in love,

there are lots of bumps and bruises along the way.”

“Who are you?” Mac asked in amazement. “That doesn’t

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even sound like something you’d say. Have you been watching

Oprah? Since when did you become wise in the ways of

love?”

After a beat of silence, Marty replied quietly, “Since Alice

and I spent the last year seeing a marriage counselor.”

Mac gasped. “What the hell? I thought you guys were

madly in love and crazy about each other.”

“We were. We are. But mad and crazy aren’t always

enough to get you through. All that passion at the beginning

quickly fades when you have to find a way to blend your lives.

You have to figure out where the lines are drawn. Trust me, if

you don’t do the work of compromise at the beginning, you’ll

have to do it eventually. There’s no getting around it.”

Mac thought about the stress Marty and Alice had gone

through trying to have a baby. Their attempts at parenthood

had obviously strained their relationship. “Well, you sure

know how to get a girl all revved up about dating.”

“I’m sorry. I want you to meet that perfect someone. But I

guess I’m trying to say that perfection is a relative state, and it

may require some work on your part to achieve it. Give some

of these women a chance. You could be missing out because

things don’t look perfect from the get-go.”

“Okay, old man, I’ll try to learn from your experience. I

still think I’m going to toss the fisherwoman back, though.”

“Understood. See you at the party?”

“Spidey and I will be there.” As Mac hung up the phone,

she resolved to reply to at least some of the e-mails awaiting

her. She turned back to her laptop and clicked on the next one.

Someone who called herself NoNonsense wrote:

You have an interesting profile. Perhaps we

should meet. I think we have a lot in common. I like

books too. Let me know if you’re interested.

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Certainly short and to the point. Mac tried to see past the

choppy, uninformative sentences to the woman who’d reached

out to her. There was only one way. She typed a reply:

Thanks for your e-mail. Glad to hear you’re a

booklover too. I find it’s hard to balance all my life’s

loves: books, bicycling, and running a restaurant,

but I do my best to give them all equal time. What

are your other passions and how do you make the

most of your time?

There, she said to herself, nothing like a question to get

the conversation going.

v

“Eight messages. Pretty good for not even trying,” Jordan

remarked to herself.

She sat her laptop on the stainless steel countertop of

the kitchen island and opened the fridge in search of a snack.

Hours ago, she’d eaten something unrecognizable for dinner

at the hospital where she’d spent the day on call, and she was

desperate for some real food. Not that she expected to find any

in her barren refrigerator. Neat rows of Fiji bottled water, a lone

jar of apricot preserves, and a foil-wrapped swan containing

aged leftovers stared back at her, mocking her hunger. Thank

God for delivery, she thought, hitting the speed dial for her

favorite Thai restaurant. She ordered the usual, tom kha gai

soup and pad kee mao, extra spicy. Her next stop was the built-

in bar, where she poured herself three fingers of Glenmorangie.

Settling into a bar stool at the kitchen island, she sipped the

mellow single-malt whisky and glanced around, automatically

checking that everything was in order in her environment.

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Her loft occupied the entire top floor of the old railway

building in Deep Ellum, a neighborhood only blocks away

from downtown Dallas. The exterior of the building retained

its rustic warehouse look, while the interior was entirely

modern with the exception of the old-fashioned screened-in

elevator and the sliding steel doors that provided access to her

apartment. Her sprawling living space had high ceilings and

maple wood floors, and one of the reasons she’d bought the

place was the enormous travertine-tiled bathroom. Most people

would probably think six showerheads at various heights and

angles was over the top, but bathing was a form of relaxation

Jordan cherished. There was nothing like a massaging shower

or a long soak in her whirlpool bathtub after a stress-filled day

with her patients.

To the casual observer, the loft would probably look like

a model home, showing few signs of an occupant. Jordan

had chosen Danish furnishings and museum-quality modern

artworks to enhance the sleek look of the living areas. Her

clothes and personal items were tucked away in cubbies

customized to her preferences. She didn’t like clutter; her

work delivered all the chaos she could handle. The loft was

her retreat, a tranquil zone where she could renew herself and

escape from the demands of others.

Turning to her computer, she inspected her latest messages.

More of the same, no doubt. She’d spent the past week deleting

offers from women who seemed to think she was only kidding

about wanting a casual hook-up, or that she was damaged goods

hiding her true yearnings behind a shield of flippancy. It was

incredible, she thought, how complete strangers thought they

could analyze someone from a few sentences on an Internet

dating site. She wondered how Mac was doing and whether

she had the same needy women responding to her with their

boring thoughts on long walks and love that knew no bounds.

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She paused at an unexpected subject line, the first to

capture her attention: Am I Hot EnougH to tIE up? Wasting no

time, she clicked on the message and devoured the contents.

Dear Skin Deep,

Do I have your attention? I found your profile

very refreshing. Certainly saves a gal a lot of

time when she knows up front exactly what she’s

getting. I’ll be candid as well. Once you see my

photo, I think you’re going to want to meet me. We

can go out or stay in. I promise you the only strings

attached will be made of satin. I look forward to our

date.

Malibu

Jordan found Malibu’s photo and burst into a wide grin at

the sight of a gorgeous sun-kissed blonde. Well, well. After a

week of disappointment, she hadn’t expected to get this lucky.

Malibu was a looker all right, assuming she’d posted a photo

of herself and not some model from a back issue of In Style. A

tiny icon at the bottom of the screen signaled she was online,

so Jordan began typing a reply. A little electronic foreplay

could be fun.

Malibu,

Satin? I kind of had you figured for a leather

girl and I’m usually right about these matters. How

about you let me dress you? I have impeccable

taste and a strong desire to please.

SD

While she waited for an answer, she glanced through the

rest of her in-box and clicked open a note from Mac, inviting

her to a birthday party for one of the Lewis kids. She replied

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quickly, accepting. She loved being part of the Lewises’

extended family and had known Jeremy since he was born. As

she hit Send, Malibu’s response arrived.

I’ll defer to your choice when it comes to

accessorizing, but I was hoping your strong desire

to please would involve undressing me. Well,

dressed or not, I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the

package. Let me know if you want to get together

for some unwrapping. Signing off to get my beauty

rest.

Jordan was about to close her browser when a popup window announced that Mac was online. She clicked to initiate a live chat, typed a quick greeting, then keyed, Check

out this one. Her name’s Malibu. The profile says “When

the sun sets, I like to let my hair down. You can run your

hands through it while we paint the town.” Not only does

she rhyme, she looks like she would paint the town in

exactly the shades I like. She’s a personal trainer. What do

you think?

The quick response was: Nothing personal, but I think

you need some training. She’s hot, at least in her picture

anyway, but are looks really all you care about?

Give me a break. Jordan typed fast. I care about a lot

of things. But, like I said last week, I’m not looking for love

like you are. I don’t need that. All I want is to have a good

time while I am in my prime. And having a good time means

getting laid without the complication of a relationship.

Maybe it’s the way you look at relationships, Mac

replied. If you had a better attitude, you might enjoy being

in one. As long as your first love is your career, every other

relationship will seem like a drain.

You’re one to talk. It’s not like you’ve had a relationship

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with anyone but the Lakeside in years. That place will

always come first, no matter how many lovesick “I want to

snuggle up with you by a cozy fireplace” babes you meet

online. Don’t get me wrong, I think that’s fine. Be your own

partner, that’s my philosophy.

Mac’s response popped up as the intercom buzzed. Let’s

see what that gets you.

Wait, Jordan typed. She buzzed the delivery person up.

It’s been nice chatting with you, pal, but dinner has arrived

and I’m famished.

Let me guess, Thai?

How well you know me. It looked odd, Jordan thought,

seeing their online names, Skin Deep and Laker Gal, on the

screen. Somehow Mac felt less familiar to her.

Jeremy’s party. Let’s go together, Mac offered. I’ll pick

you up.

It’s a date, Jordan replied. She was about to type something

cute about getting lucky with Malibu in the meantime, but

Mac had already gone.

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chapter Five

Ithink I’ll ask Malibu if she’s free for dinner Saturday

night.” Jordan panted a little as she pedaled up the steep

hill. “But you barely know her. In fact, I bet you haven’t

exchanged more than two or three e-mails.” Mac’s words were

punctuated by heavy breathing as she fought the resistance of

the sharp incline.

After spending all of Monday doing absolutely nothing,

her body was reveling in this morning’s exercise. She made a

point of getting in several distance rides each week, often with

Jordan if she wasn’t working, and today was a beautiful day

for biking. They’d looped around the lake and then branched

off onto a trail providing a circuitous route to North Dallas.

By the time they returned to their starting point, they would

have traveled over thirty miles. It never ceased to amaze Mac

that these bike trails took them all the way across the big

city without any sense of the bustling traffic and commerce

prevalent on the car-traveled streets.

“We don’t need to keep e-mailing to get to know each

other,” Jordan said. “I know enough to know I want to meet

her and see if she’s everything she says she is. Hey, my seat’s

feeling a little wobbly. Let’s pull up.”

They maneuvered their bikes off the trail near a group

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of picnic tables. While Jordan fiddled with her seat post,

Mac grabbed a Clif Bar from her pack and broke it in half.

“I understand where you’re coming from,” she said, handing

a piece to Jordan. “But these women could be crazy for all I

know. I’m not sure I want to risk a face-to-face meeting until I

know someone quite well.”

Jordan inspected the underside of her seat. “Suit yourself.

But people can say anything online. I don’t see how a blind date

is any different. You’ve met plenty of strangers that way.”

“Not to defend the blind date, because there isn’t a defense

for that convention, but at least on a blind date someone I know

has vouched for the person. Even if they weren’t entirely honest

about things like looks and compatibility, at least they’ve taken

my safety into account.”

“You worry too much,” Jordan said. “Life’s too short.

Take a risk. Make a date. If you don’t, they’ll think you’re not

serious.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

Jordan gave her seat another once-over and announced,

“Looks like I’m all fixed up. Ready?”

Mac nodded and hopped on her bike, pedaling forward

slowly until she was fully clipped in. Looking over her shoulder,

she called out “Race you to the park,” and then pedaled away,

full tilt, while Jordan was still packing her bike wrench in her

seat bag.

“You beast!” Jordan yelled, clumsily trying to clip in, speed

up, and simultaneously avoid a pair of Rollerbladers winding

their way down the trail. She double-timed to catch up and

when she did, her heavy breathing punctuated the continued

conversation. “If you’re concerned about safety, meet her in a

busy place. Valet your car and you’ll avoid the awkward ‘I’ll

walk you to your car in the dark, deserted parking lot’ moment.

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For that matter, make plans to meet in the middle of the day.

There’s safety in sunlight.”

“I guess I could do that.” Mac didn’t see herself gazing

longingly into the eyes of the future Mrs. Lewis over lunch,

however. “Dinner is much more romantic.”

“Silly girl, if you believe in all that love-at-first-sight crap,

then you have to believe that it can happen anytime, anywhere,

don’t you?”

“Been secretly reading romance novels, Dr. Love?”

“Even I can’t avoid the constant influx of romantic

imagery permeating our society,” Jordan replied. “It takes all

my energy to steer clear of Cupid’s arrows.”

“Maybe you should conserve that energy for something

more productive, like—”

“Don’t say it,” Jordan warned. “Don’t you even say it.”

“What? I was going to say cycling.” Mac laughed. “Use

some of the energy and race me to Starbucks.”

Jordan sped off, shouting, “Last one there buys!”

After a short sprint to the coffee shop, they declared a

tie and clipped out of their bikes, leaving them propped them

against the glass storefront. An icy blast of refrigerated air swept

over their heated, sweaty bodies as they stepped indoors.

“Great day for a ride,” remarked the clerk.

Jordan met a pair of deep blue eyes. They belonged to a

slim, dark-haired, androgynous girl. Cute, but young. Jordan

thought, Stop staring, she’s a child. Shaking her head, she said,

“Sure is. Too bad you’re stuck in here.”

“Yeah, I’d love to be out enjoying the day, like you and

your girlfriend.”

Jordan’s head snapped up. Did this kid call Mac her

girlfriend? She stared hard, but the girl’s expression didn’t

reveal any hidden meaning.

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Mac threw an arm over Jordan’s shoulder. “I’ll have my

usual. I’m going to have a seat outside with the bikes.”

As Mac walked away, Jordan withdrew her Starbucks

card, but when the clerk reached for it, Jordan held her end of

the card tight and pulled the pretty young woman toward her.

“I don’t do girlfriends,” she whispered in her ear.

“Is that right?”

“It most certainly is. I do, however, like to have fun.”

Jordan released the card.

The clerk straightened. “Well, then we have something in

common.”

“How about you write your number on that receipt?”

Jordan asked. “I’ll give you a call and we can discuss our

newfound common interests.”

Her eyes never leaving Jordan’s, the clerk scrawled

something on the little white scrap of paper and pushed it

toward her. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I won’t tell your

girlfriend.”

Jordan stiffened slightly but offered a vague smile, picked

up the frosty drinks, and walked outside to join Mac at one of

the tables.

“What the hell took you so long?” Mac stared down into

her drink. “The whipped cream is melting.”

“Apparently, so is my technique. Miss Young Thing in

there thinks you and I are some old married couple.”

“Well, that certainly is insulting.” Mac laughed. “Don’t

worry, Granny. I still think you’re foxy, for an old lady.” She

curled her lips around her teeth and mimicked a toothless

smile. “Do you want me to go set her straight?”

“No, dear, I don’t want her to be straight. I was trying to

get a date with her.”

“That’s great. Ditch me for a pretty young thing when

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I’m reaching my prime. I should’ve known it would come to

this.”

Jordan kidded back, “Seriously, you’ve known me forever.

What makes you think I’d make a good mate?”

Mac paused for a minute and decided to end the levity. “I

think you’d make someone a great partner when you decide

to quit living like a playgirl. In fact, I’m not insulted that the

little girl in there thinks I have what it takes to snatch a smart,

successful, beautiful woman like you off the market.”

Jordan smiled and reached across the table to wipe a spot

of whipped cream from Mac’s upper lip. “Well, married or not,

I’ll always be around to keep you from having food hanging

off your face.”

“What a relief.” Mac glimpsed something in Jordan’s face

that seemed at odds with her casual banter. She considered

asking her friend if she’d had contact with her father lately, but

decided now was not the time to broach the subject.

The subject of Dr. Jacob Wagner, a prominent Dallas

plastic surgeon, was a sore spot. Jordan hadn’t always been

the devil-may-care, successful woman who sat across from

her now. She’d taken the loss of her mother very hard and was

angry with her father for choosing to be the kind of physician

who focused on making people look good rather than the kind

who cured disease. Even after making the same professional

choice herself, she didn’t seem able to reach out to him, and

they still hadn’t repaired the damage to their relationship.

Observing from the outside, Mac found the similarities

between father and daughter completely obvious. They’d both

chosen work that allowed them to experience constant success,

rather than other forms of medicine, such as oncology, where

successes were measured in the smallest of accomplishments.

They’d both been grief-stricken at the loss of someone vital

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to their lives and had closed their emotions off, turning away

from each other. Mac thought the rift between them was tragic,

but she tiptoed around the subject because Jordan never wanted

to discuss it.

She glanced at her friend. Jordan seemed lost in thought,

her expression faraway. Ignoring the quick change in her

mood, Mac sucked down the last of her frozen salvation and

stood up. “Ready?”

“Sure.” Jordan rose immediately and picked up their trash.

Dropping it in the bin, she said, “I suppose I must seem like an

‘older woman’ to her.”

“You’re not still thinking about that, are you?” Mac

marveled.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t let it get under my skin.” Jordan

sounded irritated. “Let’s go.”

They exchanged a few words about which route to take

back around the lake, then walked their bikes back to the trail

in silence. Parts of the trail were in disrepair, neglected in the

city’s priorities. To avoid a bumpy ride, they took a road that

wound around part of the lake’s circumference. Even light car

traffic made the road more dangerous than the designated trail,

but the trade-off for a smooth ride was worthwhile, especially

at the end of a long ride when comfort was at a premium.

The last few miles, Mac thought about the clerk’s

assumption. She felt stung by Jordan’s reaction. Why was she

so appalled that they’d been mistaken for a couple? Mac could

easily see how someone could make that assumption; they

were such close friends, their bond was obvious. Still, she felt

a little insulted that Jordan was so dismissive. I’m not a bad

catch, she thought. Actually, she was great girlfriend material.

She wasn’t bad-looking. She owned a successful business.

And she was available.

In fact, Jordan could do a lot worse.

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v

Shannon reached across the candlelit table and

grasped her lover’s hand. Looking deep into Dylan’s

eyes, she confessed, “It may sound crazy, but I knew I

was in love with you at first glance. You stirred feelings

deep inside, feelings I thought I was no longer capable

of having.”

A knock at the door tore Mac from the pages of Lost Lives,

Lost Loves, and Sally Gannon poked her head in. “They’re all

here, Mac. If you’re in the middle of something, I can start

without you.”

“No, I’m ready. I’ll meet you at the bar in a few

minutes.”

The Lakeside always employed additional wait staff during

the busy summer months, and with school out for summer,

lots of college kids were looking for a way to earn some extra

bucks. Mac conducted the hire interviews with Sally, preferring

to be personally involved in every employment decision in the

business. The hardest part was finding folks who were willing

to work hard even though the situation wasn’t permanent.

The best shifts always went to the wait staff with the most

tenure, meaning the summer add-ons had to work extra shifts

to earn equivalent dollars. The trick was to separate the kids

who were getting a summer job for the sole reason that their

parents didn’t want them lying around the house from those

who truly needed the money. The latter motivation made for

the best employees.

Mac marked her place and set the novel aside. As she

stood up, she gave her calf muscles a quick rub. She was

noticeably stiff from yesterday’s long ride around the lake, a

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fact that bothered her. When she was in her twenties, recovery

time was nothing, but that had changed recently, reminding

her that she was turning thirty-six in a few months. It was silly

to feel anxious about a birthday, but the number was starting to

weigh on her. She felt as though she was in a holding pattern,

waiting for the next phase of her life to begin. So far, she’d

accomplished all the goals she’d set for herself. Education.

Career satisfaction. Financial security. Somehow, she’d

expected her other main aim in life, true love, would happen

while these routine priorities consumed her time and energy.

A sense of panic gripped her as she let her gaze roam the

bookshelves. She’d spent the past fifteen years reading about

romance instead of living it. She’d assumed Ms. Right would

walk into her world and sweep her off her feet. It seemed so

simple. But where was she? What if another fifteen years

passed with no sign of her? Mac didn’t want to “settle” because

she was afraid of being alone. She knew people who’d done

that and she’d never understood their choice until now. But

a strange desperation was creeping up on her. She worried

that she could make a terrible mistake, that the woman of

her dreams would cross her path and she would be so busy

working and reading romances that she wouldn’t notice her

until it was too late.

As she closed her office door, she promised herself that

from now on she would take the search for love much more

seriously. She would stop ruling out possibilities and making

excuses not to meet women. Her future wife was out there

somewhere and Mac intended to find her.

v

“What exactly do you do?” asked gorgeous date number

one, Rebeca Blixen, personal trainer at Images, the newest

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athletic club in Oak Lawn. Thus far their conversation had

been confined to the usual “what are your favorite Dallas

hot spots?” and “what do you like to do for a good time?”

standards.

“Plastic surgery.” Jordan paused, ready for the reaction

this announcement usually inspired.

Rebeca walked right into it. “Oh, do you work for a

surgeon?”

“You could say that, as I’m self-employed.”

This response hung in the air for a moment and Jordan

enjoyed every second as she watched realization dawn.

Rebeca’s puzzled frown settled into a grin matching her

own. “So, how does it feel to be your own boss?”

Pleased the discussion didn’t immediately turn to one

thousand and one predictable questions about life as a plastic

surgeon, Jordan decided a little substantive conversation with

this attractive woman wouldn’t kill her. As they exchanged the

basics about each other over plates of sushi, she found herself

actually enjoying Rebeca’s company. She’d been pleased

to learn that Rebeca lived in one of the newer loft buildings

downtown. Her proximity made the whole date-planning thing

go much more smoothly. Jordan had picked her up in front of

her building and driven them three blocks to a favorite Tex-

Asian fusion restaurant in the historic Dallas Power & Light

Building. Fuse served excellent cocktails on a rooftop patio

with padded bamboo loungers, candlelight, fountains, and

even a Jacuzzi for truly adventurous patrons. It was the perfect

atmosphere for the opening scene of what Jordan had planned

to be a very sensuous evening, provided her date was all she

appeared to be.

As she appraised her companion one more time, she

wondered why anyone bothered with an online dating service.

She could easily pick up the women she wanted at the local

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haunts with a lot less effort, and at least then she would get to

appraise their potential before committing to a full evening.

Rebeca aka Malibu was a looker, that was for sure, but she

could have been a dog. Athletic build with nicely proportioned

female curves, shoulder-length blond hair, sea green eyes

looking for nothing more than fun times with attractive

women—tempting bait in a trap set for online date-seekers.

But if none of the posted promises had turned out to be true,

Jordan would be stuck here waiting for an opportune moment

to cut their evening short. Fortunately Rebeca had been telling

the truth.

Despite her luck up to this point, Jordan couldn’t help but

think that she should have proposed an alternative when Aimee

had suggested this online nonsense. She had nothing to prove,

so she didn’t need to jump in as if she were a teenager unable

to resist a dare. This solitary electronic pursuit of the perfect

mate required a lot of up-front communication followed by

dates that involved actual planning. It would have been easier,

and certainly more fun, to roam the local hot spots with Mac.

They were looking for different things in the women they

pursued, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t look together, in

person. Besides, Mac could probably use some quick, mindless

connections to give her love life a jump start during the more

complicated pursuit of a soul mate. She should make Mac join

her at Sue Ellen’s, her favorite Oak Lawn bar, for a night of

dancing and cruising.

Picturing Mac surrounded by attractive women, all vying

for her attention, Jordan suddenly felt agitated. Was she jealous?

After all, she was used to being the center of attention. Surely

she wouldn’t begrudge her best friend the spotlight.

“Are we having dessert here, or at my place?”

Jordan nearly jumped out of her chair at the silky voice

of the woman seated across from her. She stared down at the

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table and realized their plates had been cleared and she was

too preoccupied to notice.

Rebeca’s hand landed on hers. “Did I startle you?”

“Only a little.” Jordan covered hastily for her inattention.

“I confess. You caught me planning my next move.”

“I’d like to see some of your moves. Should we go back

to my place?”

“I’m ready if you are.” Jordan let a slow smile slide across

her face and signaled for the waiter for the check.

A few minutes later, as they waited for the valet to bring

Jordan’s BMW M5 around, Jordan jumped again when

Rebeca’s hand crept across her back and come to rest lightly at

the side of her breast. “You’re one jumpy gal tonight.” Rebeca

held her even closer, teasing, “Or are you this skittish all the

time?”

Jordan recovered quickly. “Must be a little sensitive this

evening. That’s not a bad thing, is it?”

“Not for what I have in mind.” Rebeca winked at the valet,

who held open the passenger door while appearing indifferent

to every word of this suggestive exchange.

As they drove to Rebeca’s place, Jordan felt a familiar

flutter of anticipation. She enjoyed these moments, the build-

up of lust before the thrill of touch. She was as sure as she

could be, after three glasses of sake, that the sex would be good

tonight and there would be no strings attached. They’d both

made their positions clear in their e-mails over the past week.

There were no nasty surprises in store for them. This was how

it should be, she reflected as they took the elevator to an upper

floor of Rebeca’s building, a convenient, satisfying encounter

between two adults. What more could she hope for?

Rebeca’s loft was as sleek as its owner. Leather, granite,

steel, and hardwoods combined for a striking, modern style

with clean lines. At Rebeca’s direction, Jordan settled into

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a black leather couch in the living room while her hostess

opened the liquor cabinet.

“Martini?”

“Sounds great,” Jordan replied.

As Rebeca shook the cocktails, Jordan gave her another

thorough checking over. Tall and toned, she looked devastating

in a black silk tunic, matching pants, and high-heeled sling-

back sandals.

“Tell me why a gorgeous plastic surgeon signed up with

an online dating service?” Rebeca asked as she approached.

“Truth?” Jordan took the chilled martini glass she was

offered. “A group of us convinced my best friend to sign up.

It was sort of an intervention since she’s married to her work.

We figured going online would help her meet someone. She

needed some coaxing, so I agreed to join in. I thought I could

show her how easy it is to meet hot women without ever having

to leave the office.”

“What’s your friend’s online handle?” Rebeca asked in a

conversational tone.

“Laker Gal. Her real name is Mackenzie Lewis. She owns

a restaurant, the Lakeside at the south end of White Rock.”

“I love the Lakeside.” Rebeca’s interest seemed more

genuine. “Though I’ve never met the owner. Laker Gal…I

wonder if I’ve seen her pic online.”

“Oh, I think you’d remember. She’s a beauty.”

“Well, in case I don’t run across her myself, be sure to

thank her for me.” Rebeca’s voice was a purr.

Jordan nodded absently and slipped Rebeca’s glass from

her hand. After setting it on the end table with her own, Jordan

leaned back, stretching her arm along the back of the couch.

Clearly no stranger to the customary signals, Rebeca tucked

herself under Jordan’s arm, head tilted back, eyes slightly

closed, and lips pouting for a kiss. Tingling with desire, Jordan

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delivered the sought-after kiss with soft deliberation, trailing

her lips up Rebeca’s neck as she ran her fingers through her

honey-gold mane. Encouraged by a soft moan, she slid her free

hand beneath the silky tunic. The feeling of soft skin enhanced

by the supple silk drew a soft gasp of pleasure from her. This

was definitely her idea of a good date.

She eased them both off the couch and grasped Rebeca’s

hand. As if she had been there many nights before, she led

Rebeca through the loft to the Japanese-style platform bed at

one end. Silk fell in a heap on the floor and Jordan surveyed

Rebeca’s figure with open appreciation. “You are a beauty.”

“Why, thank you, Dr. Wagner. Coming from someone

with your specialty, that’s quite a compliment.”

“Please,” Jordan protested, “I’m not at work. I don’t have

a grease pen with me and I won’t be performing any diagnostic

interviews this evening.”

“You’ve mistaken my level of self-esteem,” Rebeca said.

“I’m proud of how I look. This body is the result of good habits

and hard work at the gym. My self-indulgences are limited to

activities like the ones we are about to engage in.”

“And what activities are those?” Jordan whispered in

Rebeca’s ear as she eased her onto the bed covers.

Reaching for the buttons on the fly of Jordan’s jeans,

Rebeca proceeded to demonstrate. “You know my favorite

thing about these Lucky Brand jeans? The message I get when

I shimmy someone out of them. Right here, inside the fly, it

says ‘Lucky You.’ Now, who do you think will be the lucky

one tonight?”

Jordan watched the downtown lights dance shadows

across the gorgeous woman lying before her. A wave of

pleasure washed between her thighs as Rebeca’s fingers traced

the message inside her fly, then found their way to the source

of her discomfort. Locking lips with the seductive blonde,

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Jordan kicked off her boots and stepped out of her jeans. The

Luckys fell into a heap with the discarded silk.

Rebeca grasped the collar of Jordan’s western-style shirt

and yanked down, pulling apart the pearl snaps in one smooth

motion. Finding full, naked breasts beneath, she smiled and

said, “Enough looking. Get your butt on this bed and let’s have

some fun.”

With that proclamation, she urged Jordan down on top

of her and eased one of Jordan’s swollen nipples into the

warm and ready moisture of her mouth. The sensation sent

shock waves through them both, and Jordan paused for just

a moment to gaze into Rebeca’s eyes. The hot invitation she

saw there was as familiar as it was thrilling. She was desired,

and she had the power to give this woman exactly what she

wanted. All night long.

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chapter six

Mac stared at her laptop screen and gave up an

exasperated sigh. Did she want to meet NoNonsense

aka Charla in person this soon? What kind of message would it

send? They hadn’t corresponded long enough to get to anything

truly personal, and their e-mail exchanges were somewhat

stilted. Yet they were fairly interesting. They both liked books

and reading. Charla seemed interested in the operations of

the restaurant, pointing out that it was very different from her

occupation as a telecommunications engineer, whatever the

hell that was. Her picture looked okay. She was no beauty

queen, but she seemed well groomed and didn’t have any

obviously scary physical attributes. Why not give it a go?

Charla,

Would you like to meet for coffee tomorrow

morning? Do you know Half Price Books on

Northwest Highway? They have a wonderful coffee

shop inside. How about we meet there at 10:30

a.m. Sunday?

Looking forward to getting to know you better,

Mackenzie

Mac conducted a quick review to make sure no egregious

spelling or grammar errors marred her message and then hit

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Send. Sunday morning coffee. The invitation was casual, the

location low risk. She closed her laptop, refusing to watch her

e-mail account like it was a pot of boiling water.

After a light dinner of creamy avocado summer soup

accompanied by a garlic cheese scone, she finally checked her

messages. Charla had replied an hour earlier. Her note was

brief but positive. She would be there.

Well, that settled it, Mac thought. Now she had to decide

what to wear. Instinctively, she picked up the phone and dialed

Jordan’s home phone number. After receiving no answer, she

tried her cell. As the phone rang, she remembered that Jordan

had planned to ask Malibu out for a second date tonight.

Disappointed, she hung up before the switch to voicemail. She

had wanted to tell Jordan that she wasn’t a chicken after all

and had taken a chance on an online prospect. Not that Jordan

cared. She was off hunting on her own.

Mac felt an unidentifiable twinge, but instantly set her

unease aside. She could pick out her own clothes; she didn’t

need Jordan for everything. Resigned to making a wardrobe

choice without her best friend’s advice, she visualized the

potential selections in her mind’s eye. Later that night, as

she got ready for bed, she laid out a pair of jeans, blue suede

shoes, and a short-sleeved light blue hoodie. Casual, but hip,

she concluded. Totally appropriate for a coffee date.

She rewarded herself with some suitable bedtime

reading.

Dylan’s glance swept down ducking her paramour’s

rapt gaze. She fought the urge to echo the words,

resisting the easy, but unsure path. Sensing the gathering

uncertainty from the woman waiting silently within her

reach, she gathered words to fill the void. “Darling, I

love being with you. I feel amazing in your presence.”

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She watched and knew Shannon caught the subtlety of

her dodged response. Tears formed as Dylan felt the

force of feeling that was growing between them. Sobs

choked her next words, but she knew she needed to

share everything with her new lover. “I have something

to confess.”

Mac paused, once more bothered that she hadn’t been

able to reach Jordan. It was unreasonable to expect her to be

on call for fashion consultations, and Mac was used to leaving

messages. They were both busy women, and she respected

Jordan’s space. But she’d never felt the way she did now, that

she had something to prove to Jordan. She closed Lost Lives

and rolled onto her side. Jordan’s comments at Starbucks the

previous weekend still rankled and Mac felt a growing need

to prove something to her. Jordan might not see her as partner

material but someone else would, and when that happened

Mac was going to enjoy flaunting her new love.

v

Blinded by the sharp sunlight glancing off the hood of

her car, Jordan hurriedly reached for her Fendi shades and

unlocked the door of her M5. She slid into the driver’s seat,

enjoying the way the cushioned leather fit against her body.

The crisp fall air fueled her appetite as she drove with the top

down through Oak Lawn to her favorite weekend brunch spot,

La Duni. Lots of midnight exercise motivated her to select

a dozen of her favorite pastries. She sipped on a rich mocha

at the bar while waiting for the staff to box her Latin treats:

guava and cheese glorias, orange brioche, mantecadas, and

pecan maple pastry, complete with lemon curd and raspberry

butter. This gayborhood spot made for some excellent people-

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watching, and she reluctantly pulled herself away when the

hostess brought her check.

The crowd was growing thick at the popular bakery and

Jordan had to wait several minutes for the valet to bring her

car around. While she waited, she tried Mac’s number again,

a little guilty that she was only replying to last night’s missed

calls twelve hours later. But Mac took most Sundays off and

could be counted on to share this box of goodies over a pot

of coffee while Jordan regaled her with the highlights of her

two dates with Rebeca. After the fifth ring, Mac’s voicemail

announced that she couldn’t get to the phone right now and

invited the caller to leave a message. Jordan clicked off and

decided on Plan B. Mac was probably in the shower and would

be out by the time Jordan arrived.

The drive across town was short on a Sunday morning,

as most Dallas cars were either nestled in garages or parked at

churches and favorite brunch spots. Jordan pulled into Mac’s

long driveway, admiring her friend’s restored 1920s bungalow.

The house was vastly different from Jordan’s high-rise loft,

which said a lot about their personalities. Mac had grown up in

a warm family environment and seemed to replicate that past

in each part of her life without even realizing it. The Lakeside

was casual and welcoming, and Mac’s home was the kind of

place that seemed to cry out for Thanksgiving dinners and a

dog in the yard. Jordan had fond memories of walking in the

door and being greeted with hugs by Mac’s parents.

The Lewises fit together seamlessly. As an outsider,

Jordan could see they had their issues. Running their business

together caused a lot of tension, but they worked through their

problems and tried to keep their family from noticing that they

had any. She remembered hearing whispered fights sometimes,

over whether the diner was consuming their lives and keeping

them from other dreams. They could never seem to get away

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and they worried about finances and having enough to help

all their kids in school. Yet they were glass-half-full kinds of

people. They stayed together in the face of conflict, their pact

as a couple too strong to be defeated by external challenges.

Jordan couldn’t imagine having a relationship like that.

She thought about Rebeca and laughed. None of the women

she dated would ever consider settling for a life like that. The

thought made her stop a moment as she parked behind a truck

in the driveway. Would it be “settling” to know she could

depend completely on another person, no matter what? Jordan

shrugged off the thought. Ties like that were for people who

wanted children. She had different priorities. And besides, she

didn’t have to be in a long-term relationship to have someone

who truly cared about her. She could count on Mac.

Jordan lingered as she got out of her vehicle and breathed

in the earthly aroma. Spying rakes, shovels, and leaf blowers

poking out from the iron grate lining the truck bed, she

assumed that Mr. Diaz was somewhere on the property. The

crisp scent of freshly cut grass hung in the air, confirming her

suspicions. She spotted the gardener and called, “Hey, Mr.

Diaz. Is Mackenzie home?”

He propped his rake against a garden cart. “She went to

the bookstore.”

“Well, that wasn’t very nice of her,” Jordan joked. “I

brought breakfast and gossip. How dare she get started this

early on a Sunday morning.”

“She left about ten minutes ago,” Mr. Diaz said, dragging

a bag of lawn clippings toward her. “I wanted to talk to her

about changing the flower beds, but she said she was running

late.”

Jordan scratched her head at the report. What in the world

could Mac have been late for at the bookstore? “Well, why

don’t you take this box of goodies, then?”

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She thrust the La Duni box into his hands and returned

to her car. With the engine idling, she vacillated for a few

seconds, reluctant to bust in on Mac if she was trying to take

some time out on her own. But she and Mac often spent hours

at Half Price Books, and their tastes were very different, so

they usually split up to browse the aisles, then met back in the

coffee shop to share the spoils of their hunt.

Jordan sped uptown hoping to catch her. Apparently

lots of folks had decided to do their Sunday morning at the

bookstore. She had to circle the parking lot for at least ten

minutes, vying for a space. Finally, her parking karma kicked

in and she grabbed a spot near the coffee shop entrance of the

store. She glanced at herself in the rearview mirror, brushed a

few windblown hairs back into place, and slid out of the car.

Her shades barely provided enough protection from the sun

reflecting from the large plate glass windows along the entire

front of the store. Using one hand as a shield, she used the

other to open the door to the coffee shop and walked into the

icy cold refrigerated air all Texas businesses used to combat

the searing summer heat.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the indoor

lighting. Almost immediately, she spotted Mac across the

room, enjoying a cup of java. Smiling, she started to wave

but stopped before her hand could reach the air. Who in

the world was that woman sitting with Mac? It wasn’t any

of their friends. Whoever she was, she was certainly acting

very friendly, leaning in close and hanging on Mac’s every

word. She was fairly nice looking but rather plain, with mousy

brown hair combed in a nondescript style, average build, and

forgettable features. Her ensemble was a boring combination

of black slacks, a taupe silk blouse, and low-heeled black

leather pumps. She looked a little dressy for the bookstore. In

fact, this mystery woman looked like she was on a date.

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A date? Jordan backed up a step. Was this what the Internet

had dredged up? This woman wasn’t Mac’s type, was she?

Someone as gorgeous as Mac would certainly want to date a

woman whose good looks matched her own and who didn’t

dress up to go to the bookstore, for crying out loud. Jordan’s

thoughts jolted her again as she realized, despite her obsession

with beautiful things, that she rarely spent time thinking about

her best friend’s beauty. She’d always taken for granted that

Mac was good-looking, with her sassy blond hair, big brown

eyes, and that trim, athletic body. She could have anyone she

wanted. The very thought made Jordan feel a little agitated.

“Jordan? What are you doing here?”

Jordan nearly jumped out of her skin as she realized she’d

been staring at Mac and the overdressed woman for who knew

how long. She plastered a smile on her face and strode toward

their table. “Oh, hi, Mac. I was on my way home and decided

to swing by and pick up a copy of the Voice.” She casually

referenced the local LGBT newspaper.

“Kind of out of your way, isn’t it?”

“Well, you don’t know where I’ve been now, do you?”

Jordan smirked and offered a hand to the mousy woman. “I

don’t believe we’ve met.”

“We haven’t. My name is Charla.” A limp handshake

followed.

“Nice to meet you, Charla.” Jordan did her best to sound

warm and friendly instead of horrified by Mac’s decision to

meet this unimpressive woman. “Come here often?”

“Actually, it’s my first time. It’s quaint here. I love books,

but I usually shop at Barnes and Noble down the street. This

store is very…eclectic.” Charla’s tone gave the impression

“eclectic” was a polite term reserved for things she didn’t

like.

Jordan had to speak in defense of her favorite bookstore.

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“Well, this store certainly does have a lot of character. There’s

no telling what you’ll find on a given day.”

“True. However, most of the time I know exactly what I

am shopping for and I like the convenience of knowing it will

be in stock. I don’t like to have to rely on my ability to stumble

across rejections from someone else’s personal library.”

Jordan turned toward Mac, making little effort to hide her

grimace. “Is this a date or what?”

Mac’s face, already red from watching the tense exchange,

deepened in color. “Yep. We were getting to know each other.

Thanks for stopping by to say hello.”

Jordan stared at her in disbelief. She recognized the tone,

but was taken aback that Mac had blatantly dismissed her.

“Yeah, well, I’ll see you around.” She waved at the nonentity.

“It was nice to meet you, Charo.”

Watching Jordan’s retreating back, Mac refrained from

correcting the name. “Sorry,” she mumbled, knowing she

could expect a phone call later and a lot of grief about this

encounter.

“Is she one of your exes?” Charla asked.

v

A sharp ringing rousted Jordan from a deep afternoon

sleep. She struggled to keep the phone cradled against her

shoulder as she sat up in bed. “Who is this?”

“You know who this is. What are you doing asleep in the

middle of the day?”

“Oh, Mac, it’s you.” Jordan yawned. “Slow down with the

questions, will you? I was taking a little nap. I didn’t get a lot

of rest last night.”

“That’s no excuse being an ass to my date this morning,”

Mac growled.

“Give me a break. I wasn’t being an ass. I was merely

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expressing my opinion. Besides, it’s not like you’re going

to see her again.” Sleep deprivation didn’t keep Jordan from

counting the beats of silence that followed. “You’re not, are

you? Going to see her again?”

“What if I am?”

“Oh, honey, she’s not your type. She’s not anyone’s type.

She’s the kind of boring, buttoned-up, frumpy woman who

has to resort to finding someone online because, in person, she

sends cool chicks like us running. She’s what you get when

you post a sappy profile like yours.”

“I’m going to try to ignore the fact that you’ve just

insulted me. For all you know, Charla may be exactly the kind

of woman I’m looking for.”

“If Charla’s your type, then I don’t know you very well.”

Jordan could feel her voice rising and decided to take a

different tack. “Come on, Mac. What about all the dynamic

leading ladies in those romances you devour? Charla wouldn’t

even rate a bit part.”

“That’s fiction. I’m looking for a real life partner, not a

paperback love affair.”

“You create your own reality, Mac. Women like that are

only fictional if you refuse to let the possibility become reality.

I went out with someone I met online last night and she was

hot. Hell, we even had good conversation during dinner.”

“Jordan, I am being realistic. Someday you’re going to

stop living in the fast lane and realize life isn’t about how

many hot women you can bed. I want to find someone to share

my life, not for a night, but for a lifetime. So I’m looking at

more qualities than looks and sexual prowess. Is that so hard

for you to understand?”

Stung, Jordan retorted, “Well, I can guarantee that if you

don’t see an attractive face looking back at you after a night

of clumsy sex, then a lifetime is going to seem very long

indeed.”

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“Not as long as spending it alone,” Mac replied. “I don’t

even know why we bother having these conversations. You’re

never going to change.”

“You’re damn right about that. I will always want the best

and never settle for less. I never figured you for the settling

kind.”

After a few long seconds of silence, Mac asked, “Jordan,

are you jealous?”

Jordan almost dropped the phone. Jealous? Could it be

that she was jealous? Of what? She loved Mac dearly, but she

wasn’t attracted to her that way. Was she?

“Did you hang up on me?” Mac’s voice jolted her from

her disturbing train of thought.

“No, I’m still here.”

“Well?”

“I don’t know what you mean. Why would I be jealous?”

“You tell me.”

“Don’t play games with me, Mac. I just woke up and I’m

feeling kind of cranky.”

“What I’m saying is that you always seem to have a

hand in helping me pick out my dates, but Charla’s someone

I picked out all on my own, with no input from you. Do you

think maybe you’re a tiny bit jealous that I can pick my own

dates?”

Ah, Jordan thought, she doesn’t think I am attracted to her,

she just thinks I am a control freak. Embarrassed that she’d

jumped to the wrong conclusion, she replied, “Well, I don’t

know what I would be jealous of. You don’t seem to be doing

such a great job all on your own.”

She wasn’t sure if Mac even heard the last couple of

words. Her reply was inaudible over the sound of the phone

slamming down.

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chapter seven

Ineed you to be brutally honest,” Mac said. “Why do

you think I’ve never been lucky in love?”

“Lucky in love, huh? That’s an interesting way of putting

it.” Aimee paused as she buttered a roll. “I don’t think luck,

bad or good, has anything to do with the fact that you haven’t

been in a long-term relationship. You’re no different than

Jordan in that respect.”

“Hold on a minute,” Mac protested.

“Hear me out. I’m saying you’re married to your

restaurant the same way she’s married to that image of herself

as a playgirl. Be brutally honest with yourself and ’fess up.

How many times have you chosen this place over the arms of a

woman who was trying to care about you? I can think of a few

who gave up once they found they couldn’t compete.”

Mac took in the full force of Aimee’s words. “Wow, that’s

pretty brutal. I guess I always thought if a woman cared about

me, she would understand work comes first at times.”

“Honey, there’s a difference between occasional

interruptions to your love life because of a crisis at work and

occasional interruptions to your work to have a love life.

It’s never taken long for your lovers to realize they’re the

interruption.”

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“Again, that’s brutal.”

“But honest. And they must feel pretty darn low on the

totem pole when they see that you’re perfectly willing to

interrupt work for your friends. When was the last time you

told Jordan you were too busy to bike, or go to the bookstore,

or whatever?”

“Easy now. That’s different. Jordan and I have been friends

forever. Friendships have to be cultivated and cared for.”

“Same goes for love, sweetie.” Aimee slid her soup bowl

to one side. “Romantic relationships take time, care, and

cultivation. It’s not like those romance novels you swallow

whole.”

“I’ve been on a lot of dates.” Mac knew she sounded

defensive.

“Wrong. Double-dating with Jordan doesn’t count as a

date.”

“Give me a break. We do all the regular date things.”

“Let me guess, Jordan usually picks you up first, right?

Then you pick up your dates. You go somewhere, the four of

you, and most of the evening you and Jordan talk to each other

until it’s time to split up. She drops off your date, then you, and

then takes off with her flavor of the evening. You guys hook up

the next day, and you listen to tales about her night of passion.

Am I close?”

“Oh, my God. I’m the lamest person there is.”

“You’re not lame, dear. You’re in a rut. A very comfortable

rut. As long as you continue to buddy up with Jordan in your

love life, you don’t have to think for yourself, let alone commit.

You don’t find the dates yourself, so you aren’t personally

invested enough to make a go of it. Hell, you don’t even drive

or decide where you are going.”

“For your information, I went on a date yesterday.Awoman

I picked entirely by myself. Jordan hadn’t even met her.”

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“Someone you met online?”

“Yep.”

“How was it? I’m thinking not great or you would be

spending this afternoon pleasantly reminiscing instead of

conducting an analysis of your romantic potential.”

“It was horrible,” Mac admitted. “Her name’s Charla.

She’s stuffy, self-righteous, and frumpy. It was all I could do to

muddle through a conversation with her. To top it off, Jordan

showed up and they starting sparring.”

“Slow down, girl. Jordan showed up on your date?”

“It was weird. I asked Charla to meet me at Half Price

Books for coffee. I figured it was a good setting for a casual

‘let’s see where this goes’ kind of date. We’re sitting there,

sipping mochas and wading through tedious conversation

when I look up and see Jordan across the room staring at us. It

was truly strange. To top it off, I was overcome by this weird

need to make Jordan think Charla was a splendid date and we

wanted to be left alone, so I totally brushed her off.”

“Who, Charla?”

“No, Jordan. I brushed her off, but she wouldn’t leave.

She stayed and started asking Charla questions. I practically

had to tell her to get out.”

“How embarrassing.”

“Yeah. Jordan was the one pushing me to make a date

with whoever I met online. I took her advice and it’s almost

like she was mad about it.”

“Interesting.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I think it’s interesting that Miss I’ll Date Anyone

Hot Who Looks My Way thinks your dates need to be screened,

and she’s the person to do it.”

“Jordan’s always been protective about who I date. Come

to think of it, no one has ever measured up to her standards.”

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Mac sighed. “I shouldn’t give her a hard time. I’m sure she

means well.”

“Are you?” When Mac didn’t answer, Aimee said, “I have

some advice. You aren’t going to like it. Find your own love

life, on your own. Do your own searches, chat with someone

you pick out entirely on your own, and make a date. Decide

if you enjoyed the date before you ever compare notes with

anyone else about it. And that means Jordan, in particular.”

“Damn, that’s harsh. What are friends for if I can’t ask for

advice?”

“Your friends will support your decisions and trust your

judgment. If they don’t, then what kind of friends are they?”

“Are you saying Jordan isn’t supportive? She’s been

pushing me to find someone.”

“I know Jordan loves you and wants to help,” Aimee said.

“But I’m saying give this a chance and who knows what you

might find. All by yourself.”

v

< Malibu > You sure know how to show a girl a

good time.

< Skin Deep > Right back at you. What are you

doing right now?

< Malibu > Doing a little good-night surfing when I

saw you online.

< Skin Deep > I see. Looking for another hot

date?

< Malibu > Maybe. I found your friend the

restaurateur.

< Skin Deep > I see. Well, if you want to know

more about her I can dispel the mystery.

< Malibu > No, that would take all the fun out of

imagining her. I love fantasizing.

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< Skin Deep > Well, if you want any help with your

fantasies, you know where to find me.

Rereading the chat from last night, Jordan frowned.

Rebeca’s curiosity about Mac was getting under her skin and

she wasn’t sure why. Funny she should care. It wasn’t as if she

expected anything more than a few good times with Rebeca.

She wasn’t looking for something more serious than that. The

sex had been incredible on both their dates, but there was no

shortage of beautiful women in this city who would be more

than willing to join her for a romp. All the same, it bothered her

that Rebeca had joked about fantasizing over Mac. Somehow,

that felt off-limits.

Jordan closed her laptop as her office manager tapped

on the door. With obvious displeasure, Grace announced,

“There’s a Ms. Blixen here to see you. She doesn’t have an

appointment, but she’s very persistent.”

Jordan grinned at her tone. Grace Cunningham, RN, had

served as Jordan’s assistant, office manager, and sergeant-at-

arms since the day she’d entered private practice. Grace had

spent years working for Jordan’s dad, Dr. Jacob Wagner, and

had been indispensable to his practice. When Jordan’s mother

died of breast cancer, Grace became even more indispensable,

helping him get a distraught Jordan through her tortured high

school years by trying to fill in some of the gaps left by her

extremely dynamic mother. Jordan knew she held a special

place in Grace’s heart and when she finished her fellowship

at Presbyterian Hospital and opened her own practice, she

stole Grace away from the elder Dr. Wagner without a qualm.

Grace was fiercely protective, and that was one of the reasons

they worked so well together. She guarded Jordan’s time from

distractions, allowing her to focus on her clientele.

“It’s okay,” Jordan said. “I know Ms. Blixen. Send her in.”

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Amoment later, Rebeca sashayed into the room and slowly

turned, taking in the large office and its furnishings. Jordan’s

wasn’t a typical doctor’s office, with diplomas, certificates,

and a few anatomical models here and there. Hers was more

like a luxurious living room, complete with a plush sofa and

love seat, fine art, a plasma TV, and a fifty-gallon aquarium.

A well-stocked granite wet bar replaced the usual sterile sink

area.

“I was in your neck of the woods and thought I would stop

by and see where the good doctor works,” Rebeca said. “This

is downright opulent. Are you sure this is your office?”

“Not your standard clinic digs, huh?” Jordan kept her tone

casual, unwilling to show irritation at the unexpected visit.

“One of the most important rules of sales is dress for success.

Think my office makes me look like the most successful plastic

surgeon in Dallas?”

“Is that important to you?”

“Well, cosmetic surgery is different from most other fields

of medicine,” Jordan said. “Most of my clients are people

who’ve chosen to have surgery, not out of a life-or-death need,

but out of some emotional need. They need to feel comfortable

talking about those emotions and this atmosphere helps. It’s not

medicine-y. It’s more like a plush therapist’s office. Second,

since most of the surgery that I perform is elective, therefore

not paid for by insurance, people tend to be pretty picky when

they’re paying out of their own pocket. They usually want a

good-looking doctor with an upscale practice.” She waved at

the room. “I think I convey that, don’t you?”

“Complete understatement.”

“What are you doing here?” Jordan asked, surprised

that she wasn’t happy to see her. “I thought you weren’t into

cosmetic surgery.”

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“I guess I was curious. What would you suggest if I wanted

something done?”

“Why mess with nature when she’s been so good to you?”

Jordan shrugged. “I suppose I could squeeze you in if there

something special you had in mind.”

“Darling, I may need something special, but surgery

won’t be necessary.” Rebeca slid her bottom onto Jordan’s

desk and crossed her long legs, revealing an expanse of firm

thigh. “You know, I almost went to the wrong office. There’s

another J. Wagner doing plastic surgery in Dallas.”

“I had no idea,” was Jordan’s clipped reply. Of her friends,

only Mac and Aimee knew that Jacob Wagner was her father.

Since Jordan barely acknowledged his existence, out of respect

for her they rarely brought up the other Dr. Wagner.

“You don’t know him?” Rebeca failed to sense a change

in her demeanor. “It seems like you would have crossed paths

since you’re both in the same profession.”

Jordan dodged the question. “You’d be surprised how

many plastic surgeons there are in Dallas.”

“Well, I am sure that’s the case. It seems odd that your

names are similar and you’ve never even heard of him.”

Jordan stood and started walking around her desk. “I

don’t get why it matters to you. My next client will be here in

a moment. Do you mind leaving this way?” She pointed to a

fairly well disguised outline of a door near the wet bar. “It’s

a private hall. Grace’s office is at the end and she’ll see you

out.” Ignoring the brush-off, Rebeca asked, “Are you free for

lunch? I have a few errands to run in the neighborhood and

I’ll be close by around noon. We could eat in if you like.” Her

expression suggested food would not be the only item on the

menu.

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carsen taite

Jordan shook her head. “No, thanks. I keep a tight schedule

on Mondays.”

Rebeca seemed to detect the coolness in her mood and

tried to rally her with a flirtatious smile. “Kiss to get you

through the day?”

The newly formed layer of ice was not to be broken. “I think

I can make it without. Thanks and have a good afternoon.”

• 78 •

truelesbianlove.com

chapter eight

This is such a lame way to spend a Thursday night,”

Mac growled into the phone. She tried to do something

relaxing on Thursday nights since she usually worked long

shifts on Fridays. Surfing the Internet for love didn’t fit her

idea of relaxing.

“Do you want me to come over?” Aimee asked. “I’m in

my nightgown, settled in to watch a Charlie’s Angels marathon,

but I’ll gladly throw on a pair of jeans and head your way.”

“No, I don’t want to tear you away from your sweethearts.

I called Jordan, but she has to work late.”

“Thanks, pal,” Aimee griped. “You’re not supposed to

let a girl know she’s second choice. Are you sure Jordan had

to work? I think she secretly likes the online dating and has

probably amassed a long list of women she’s working her way

through.”

“I won’t even dignify your speculation with a response.”

Mac felt that twinge again. Was she jealous of Jordan burning

up the Web with her quest for new flames? “Maybe you’re

right,” she told Aimee. “Judging by the lack of good prospects,

Jordan’s probably had her way with most of these babes, and

now they’re off swooning somewhere in the aftermath.”

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carsen taite

“Say, why are you calling me? I thought you were going

to try this on your own for a while, relying on your own

instincts.”

“My instincts are telling me to run and hide. I called you

for a pep talk, now let’s have it.”

“Okay, let’s pick someone for you to meet. Who are the

top three candidates?”

“There isn’t a top three. There isn’t one woman on here I

am interested in having an online chat with, let alone meeting

in person.”

“Oh, you are a lost cause. Quit being so damn picky. Read

me a profile, anyone’s profile,” Aimee encouraged.

“Yeah, okay. Then you’ll see how hopeless this whole

exercise is. Here’s one, she goes by NoBonesAboutIt, which

already gives me the willies on several different levels. No,

wait. I just got a new e-mail. It’s from FanningtheFlame. I

haven’t seen her profile online, but listen to this.”

Mac reviewed most of the e-mail in silence, but selected a

couple of the best lines to read aloud as she went along.

I’ve been reading your profile every day this

week and today I finally got up the courage to

subscribe to this site so I could write to you. I, like

you, have spent my life working hard for many

things, but none of the things I’ve acquired have

made my heart beat faster than it did when I read

your feelings about love and relationships. I agree

that a strong relationship requires nurturing and

that passion and commitment will fan the flames

and keep the fire alive. I’d like to meet you and

see if our first glance ignites feelings that will burn

forever. I invite you to read my profile and contact

me if it sparks your interest.

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“Whew, it’s getting hot in here,” Aimee sassed. “Does she

look as good as she sounds?”

“I can’t think of a better word than ‘hot’ to describe her.

Where the hell has she been hiding?”

“Honey, she’s been sitting in the wings, waiting for the

right moment to come out and play with you.” Aimee adopted a

begging tone. “Please tell me you’re going to play with her.”

“You’re hopeless. I promise I’ll write her back. And if she

can keep up her end of the conversation for a couple of rounds

of chat, I swear, I’ll make a date with her.”

“Good girl. Now, if you don’t need me for anything

else…”

“Go back to your Angels. Tell Kelly I said hello.”

“Will do.”

Mac

was

already

rereading

the

e-mail

from

FanningtheFlame before Aimee clicked off the line.

Composing her response in her head, she spoke her most

pressing thought out loud, “Are you for real?”

v

“Where the hell is she?” Jordan muttered as she typed

“Malibu” into the search directory for the third time.

She stared in disbelief at the message: No Results FouNd.

That was weird. Jordan felt bad about the abrupt way she’d

ushered Rebeca out of her office earlier that week. Rebeca

had called several times since, but Jordan had been meeting

with patients or was in surgery on each occasion. Composing

an apology in her head, she’d spent a good half hour online

looking for her. She reached for the cordless phone near her

bed, then realized she didn’t know her phone number. She’d

made a point of “forgetting” to ask for it. But she knew where

Rebeca lived.

• 81 •

carsen taite

Jordan contemplated making a personal appearance to

convey regret for her actions. She’d been a shit this week,

snapping at a woman she barely knew, for no good reason,

and getting irrationally impatient with everyone she spoke to.

She’d tried to contact Mac, wanting to smooth things over, but

Mac had been distant all week, surely on account of Jordan’s

disapproval of her dating choices.

Placing the laptop on her nightstand, she slid her feet

into the worn Gucci loafers resting at her bedside. She wasn’t

going to sit here all evening feeling helpless. It was always

easier to smooth over hurt feelings face-to-face. She moved

to the mirror and gave herself a quick once-over. Her slightly

wrinkled pale green cotton shirt and weathered Lucky jeans

would be fine for a casual late-night visit. Besides, Jordan

remembered, Rebeca liked the Luckys.

Nosing the Beemer out of the parking garage adjacent

to her building, Jordan noted that the traffic was light, even

for a late Thursday evening. She attributed the nearly barren

streets to the misty rain starting to fall. On weeknights, the

Deep Ellum bars featured live local color that drew alternative

music junkies from the entire metroplex, usually in droves.

But inconvenient, uncovered parking meant it took only a little

rain to ward off all but the die-hard fans.

Heading west on Main Street the few short blocks to

Rebeca’s apartment, she contemplated what she was doing.

I’m dropping in to apologize for being a jerk earlier this week.

I was pretty abrupt and I know it’s because Rebeca mentioned

dad. Of course, Rebeca couldn’t know that the other Dr.

Wagner was her father. How was Jordan going to explain her

reaction without explaining what was behind it? She had no

desire to get into a discussion about her father. Did she even

owe Rebeca an explanation? It wasn’t like they were dating.

They’d gone out twice. Their conversations were little more

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than foreplay. She didn’t know the woman. Hell, she didn’t

even know her phone number.

As she approached Pearl Street, her musings turned to

resolution and she abruptly changed lanes, choosing right

over left. Right led to Oak Lawn and all the promises of the

Dallas lesbian nightlife. Hoping the rain hadn’t deterred all

the beautiful women from coming out, Jordan decided to start

the evening fresh, no apologies, no regrets. Leaving Rebeca’s

building far behind, she drove directly to Sue Ellen’s.

The usual suspects were all in residence. Stepping into

the shadowy bar, Jordan paused to take stock of the room.

The place was crowded with women jockeying for the best

position to order the drink special from one of the three female

bartenders. One beautiful, one foxy, one tomboyish, they

rushed around each other trying to keep up with the demands

of the women vying for their attention. Holding back from the

crowd, Jordan enjoyed watching the dance. The choreography

never changed no matter the composition of the audience.

Though she was standing a couple of rows back from

the crowded bar railing, her status as a regular came with

perks. After she placed her order, the bartender walked out

from behind the bar to make a personal delivery. Sidling up

close, she wrapped an arm around Jordan’s waist and placed

the longneck Miller Lite in her hand. “Haven’t seen you on a

school night for a while. How’ve you been?”

Jordan took a long draft from the bottle and appraised

the woman attached to her hip. Short, spiked brown hair with

sandy highlights, slim hips, tiny waist, and a perfect round ass

all showed out nicely on her small frame. She wasn’t Jordan’s

type, but her androgynous, edgy, ageless looks certainly turned

heads. A group lining the front row of the bar glanced back at

them, torn between enjoying the picture they cut and mourning

the loss of their drink maker.

• 83 •

carsen taite

Noticing the glances, Jordan warned her hipmate, “If you

don’t head back soon, I fear the masses will come looking for

you.”

“Promise me a dance before you leave?”

“I may not be staying long.”

“Well, if a beautiful woman hasn’t whisked you away by

the time I get my break, you’re all mine.”

“Deal,” Jordan replied, knowing it wasn’t. The banter was

safe and meaningless since they both knew they would never

hook up. Though the bartender would probably be a willing

participant in any extracurricular activity Jordan offered,

Jordan came here often and wasn’t going to risk losing one

of her playgrounds over a one-night stand and possible hurt

feelings.

Leaving her spot near the bar, she wandered by the dance

floor. Apparently Thursday nights were made for drinking,

not aerobics, so there weren’t too many women gyrating to

the music. Jordan pushed through the patio doors and settled

into one of the wire mesh chairs that lined the outdoor room.

Angling her seat to give her a balanced view of the patio and

the nightlife on the street, she took another deep draft of her

beer. She remembered the first time she and Mac had come

here, fake ID’s at the ready. Seniors at East Dallas High, they’d

ditched their homecoming dates, changed into club wear, and

struck out to the bar they’d read about. After Jordan’s mother

died, her father never paid much attention to what she did,

leaving her free to explore all she wanted. Somehow she and

Mac, both questioning their sexuality, had been lucky enough

to find each other in the sea of students at EDH. Together

they’d learned about gay life on the sly, reading books and

magazines that confirmed that it was okay to feel the things

they felt.

Their first night at Sue Ellen’s had been like a child’s first

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trip to Disney World, full of glitzy attractions, wild rides, and

tasty treats. The strong beat of the music, the flashing lights,

and the few drinks they’d managed to get women to buy them

animated their newfound sexual feelings. Jordan imagined

familiarity was the reason they’d turned to each other. She

recalled the moment Mac had leaned in and kissed her full on

the mouth. The taste of her tongue was sweet but the effect

was searing. At first they’d melted into an embrace, but then

Jordan’s initial response was replaced with fear, causing her

to push Mac away. Mac, still woozy from the effect of the

passionate kiss, seemed slow to realize the rejection wasn’t

temporary. Eyes hazy with longing looked deep into Jordan’s,

and she’d sensed an intensity of feeling in Mac that worried

her. By contrast, her own feelings seemed too shallow. She felt

almost numb.

In hindsight, she could see that her mother’s death and her

father’s withdrawal had stuffed feelings like love deep down

inside, compacted into unrecognizable forms, not likely to

spring back to life. To allow them to surface was to invite pain,

for her and for the people who loved her. She didn’t have what

it took to weather love’s storms without completely shutting

down. Mac came from a family where love was the way things

were. Her parents were in love and loved her. Her siblings were

loyal beyond measure. Seventeen-year-old Mackenzie Lewis

didn’t know pain, and Jordan wasn’t going to drag her into

the depths of hers. She’d been certain the pursuit of anything

romantic would destroy the fast friendship she was desperate

to keep.

Ignoring the plea in her eyes, Jordan had announced,

“Now we’ve practiced on each other, let’s try our skills on

some of the babes in here.”

Mac’s features shuffled quickly into composure as she

realized that Jordan was done with their tiny foray of passion.

• 85 •

carsen taite

In all the years they’d known each other, she’d never once

alluded to that moment, and Jordan had stopped thinking about

what her silence conveyed.

A voice, and the gentle press of a hand on her shoulder

shook Jordan from her reflections and she glanced up expecting

to see one of the cocktail waitresses. Instead she stared up into

big brown eyes that locked her with their gaze.

“Would you like another beer?” the stranger asked.

Breathtaking, Jordan thought. The face that featured those

baby browns also boasted fair smooth skin that would be soft to

the touch. Resolving to find out just how soft, Jordan replied,

“I’d rather dance, if that’s an acceptable alternative.”

Nodding, the beautiful stranger held out her hand and

Jordan grasped it, moving them back inside to the dance floor.

Joining a few other couples, they swayed to the R&B dance

vibe of Rihanna’s “Good Girl Gone Bad.” Jordan placed her

hands on the woman’s hips and began a gradual ascent. A song

and dance later, her hands framed her dance partner’s face

and she leaned in for a long, slow kiss that stretched through

several verses and a chorus.

The stranger leaned back and offered, “I live close by.”

Jordan’s nod was the only reply, but a clear signal. The

woman took her by the hand and led her out the door. Her

white Mercedes convertible transported them a few blocks

away to the vast circular drive that fronted one of Oak Lawn’s

new high-rise condo buildings. Though the hour was late,

the dutiful valet snapped to attention and opened the driver’s

door, leaving Jordan to fend for herself. She stepped out and

followed her hostess through the large glass doors held open

by a man dressed in full doorman regalia. They walked in

silence to a bank of elevators. Once inside and riding upward,

the stranger pinned Jordan to the back wall and kissed her with

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steady force and purpose. Jordan’s body responded without

reservation. Grabbing fistfuls of the thick, platinum mane, she

pulled the full sensuous lips closer.

The elevator stopped on the twenty-fifth floor, and the

stranger whispered, “Should we adjourn to my apartment?”

Again, Jordan nodded assent.

Dim lights made mysterious the shadowy exchange as

they tangled together inside the woman’s home. Drunk on the

moment, Jordan moved in a trance, following the flaxen-haired

siren, oblivious to any rocky pitfalls lurking in the shadows.

She saw something of herself in the easy confidence with

which this woman led her to bed, firmly pushed her down,

and brazenly began removing her clothes. She watched, as if

in a mirror, and it was almost a game to predict the next move:

Now, she’ll lean in to deliver light kisses along my neck, her

thigh positioned to give a small, teasing pressure designed

to drive me to distraction. In response to my begging moans,

she’ll bump up the pressure, her tongue playing promises in

my mouth, assuring arousal that will send me over the edge.

Despite her vantage point, Jordan’s body started to feel

the sensations her mind described and she wondered at her

own loss of control. Was this how she made other women feel?

How could they possibly survive the total loss of control? How

did this beauty know she could have her like this? Out of her

hazy musings, a question broke through. “How do you know

what I want?”

Her words hung in the air. The nameless vixen paused

in her ministrations, undaunted by the query, and answered

simply, “Mind-blowing sex with no strings attached. Everyone

knows that’s what you want.”

Declaration delivered, she bent down and nipped at

Jordan’s mouth, her hot tongue seeking entrance. Like a diver,

• 87 •

carsen taite

having tasted the depth of her prowess but now desperately

trying to cut the water’s surface, Jordan kicked her way back

to awareness, pulling away.

“I’m leaving,” she announced, throwing her legs over the

side of the bed and reaching for her shirt.

“Don’t leave, Doctor. We’re just getting started.” Arms

circled Jordan’s waist, unbuttoning as fast as Jordan could

fasten.

With more force than she intended, Jordan jerked the

tail of her shirt from the woman’s grasp, shedding several

buttons in the process. Both women stared at the bits of metal

as they clanked on the floor, swirled in place, and rolled off

into silence. Jordan grasped her shirttail with both hands and

moved quickly to the door. Moments later she emerged from

the elevator, catching the knowing glance of the dolled-up

doorman. Ignoring his attempts to beat her to the tall glass

doors, she swiftly made her exit.

Early summer’s curse was limited to sweltering days. The

night air at this time in the season was still bearable and even

offered a light breeze. Jordan walked the blocks back to Sue

Ellen’s to retrieve her car, welcoming the fresh air as it breathed

her back to awareness. What was wrong with her? She’d left

a beautiful woman who was ready and willing. Ruefully, she

reflected that she herself had been ready and willing. Was she

that easy to make? Lesbian seeks lay: I don’t care what your

favorite food is, whether you like to dance fast or slow—hell, I

don’t even have to know your name. You must be a great fuck.

No further information necessary.

The walk back to the bar seemed to take forever as she

grappled with the realization that she no longer cared for the

reputation she’d tried her whole life to cultivate. As she crossed

Cedar Springs, she glanced at the patio where the night’s

misadventure had begun. Squinting to dispel the distraction

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of the wrought iron railing, she saw only the memory of that

night when she and Mac had been young and curious. Though

cynical even then, she couldn’t completely sever herself from

her yearnings. Now, looking back, she recognized the force

behind her cynicism. Fear. Fear of loss, fear of pain, fear of

love. Funny, almost twenty years later, the fear was still there

but she’d learned to call it by other, more acceptable, names:

independence, control, fortitude.

Slipping behind the wheel of her M5, Jordan leaned back

and felt the memory of young Mackenzie’s lips meeting hers.

All these years later, fear still fought the feeling away, yet

something of the yearning rushed back.

• 89 •

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chapter nine

Resisting the tease of the tiny envelope icon in the

corner of her laptop screen, Mac poured herself a

humongous cup of French roast and added a hefty measure of

cream. Carrying the cup of java, she left the kitchen and the

beckoning e-mail and strolled outdoors to retrieve the morning

paper. The Friday edition featured new restaurant reviews and

Mac liked to start off the weekend by assessing the competition.

Pausing under the large pecan tree, she stretched her arms over

her head, soaking up the early morning sunshine. This Friday

was starting off to be a gorgeous day.

It was time to check the weather of her dating life and

see if it measured up. She returned to the kitchen and settled

in front of her laptop. Clicking on the envelope icon, she

quickly scanned the new e-mails in her inbox. She’d replied

to FanningtheFlame’s message after reading her profile about

twenty times, writing:

Thanks for your beautiful message. It’s good

to know I’m not the only one out here who still

believes in true love. Forgive my cynicism, but I

sincerely hope your sentiments will be reflected in

your actions as well as your words. If you think we’ll

be a good fit, let’s set up a time to meet. Soon.

• 91 •

carsen taite

Mac figured her somewhat brief reply would scare off all

but the truly willing. Spying an e-mail from her new admirer,

she clicked it open.

Cut to the chase, huh? Fine by me. I would

be happy to show you I mean what I say and the

sooner the better. Are you free this weekend? I

hope so.

Well, she certainly didn’t waste any time. You wanted

directness, didn’t you? she chided herself. Ignoring the tiny

feeling inside crying out for her to stay within her comfort

zone, Mac typed a reply quickly, before she could change her

mind.

Glad that’s settled. I look forward to meeting

you. I can’t get away this weekend, but how about

Wednesday night? We can meet at Dario’s and go

from there. Say 7:00 p.m.?

After hitting the Send button, Mac started to close the lid

of her laptop but stopped when she heard the familiar ping

announcing she had new mail. FanningtheFlame was online

and confirmed their date.

Mac wondered if the hollow feeling in her gut was

excitement or dismay.

v

“Hey, Haley, is Megan home?” Jordan stood in the

doorway of her friends’ brownstone duplex. For a reason she

couldn’t put her finger on, she hadn’t wanted to go home after

finishing up at the hospital. After making sure all her admitted

patients were settled in for the night, she’d driven around

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aimlessly until she found herself at Megan and Haley’s Oak

Lawn home.

“You just missed her,” Haley said. “She got a call from a

client and went running out the door.” She searched Jordan’s

face. “She made dinner before she left, though. Wanna join

me?”

“I don’t want to barge in on you.” Lack of confidence was

definitely not Jordan’s usual style, but she felt dead tired and

out of sorts.

Haley must have discerned that something was off, as she

grabbed Jordan’s arm and pulled her in. “You don’t look good.

I think you need to eat.”

Jordan followed Haley into the kitchen and accepted the

ice-cold bottle of beer Haley thrust into her hand. She noted

Haley was still wearing her Dallas Fire Department uniform

and, with her compact muscular body, she looked good in it.

Taking a stab at small talk, she asked, “What’s for dinner?”

“Meat loaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, baby carrots,

and blackberry cobbler for dessert.”

“Wow, do you guys eat this much every night?” Jordan

blurted out. “How in the world do you stay in such good

shape?”

“No, smart ass, we don’t eat like this every night. Megan

decided to surprise me with all of my favorites.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“It’s the anniversary of the day we first met.” The usually

stoic Haley let loose a tiny grin at this revelation.

“Oh.” Jordan was embarrassed that she’d crashed this

special evening for her friends. “Look, maybe I should go.”

“Chill. Do you see Megan here? It’s not like you’re

interrupting anything. She probably won’t be back for hours.

Now, have a seat and eat with me,” Haley urged, motioning to

a table featuring a candlelit setting for two.

• 93 •

carsen taite

“Are you mad at her for taking off?” Jordan asked as they

sat down.

“Mad? No. Disappointed that she had to leave? Sure. It

happens. Hell, I get called in on emergencies all the time. If we

got mad at each other for things we can’t control, we’d never

make it.”

“Do you think you will?”

“Will what?”

Picking at bits of food, Jordan asked, “Make it.”

“Why? Got the hots for my wife?” Haley was teasing, but

her serious tone caused Jordan to shoot upright.

“No! I mean, she’s beautiful and all. Who wouldn’t have

the hots for her? But I don’t. I mean, I don’t think of her that

way. She’s my friend, nothing more. She’s a great friend, but

we don’t have anything more than a friendship between us.”

“Stop talking, Doc. I was kidding.”

“Oh.” Jordan sighed.

“You’re not eating,” Haley observed.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Spill it. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I think I’m overly tired.”

“Too many late dates?” Haley baited.

Jordan abruptly stood and slammed her beer bottle down

on the table. “For your information, I’ve been working my ass

off. I’m tired of everyone thinking I’m a playgirl who spends

every waking moment getting laid.”

Quick strides closed the distance between them, and Haley

pushed Jordan back into her chair. “Settle down. I wouldn’t

have asked you in here if I thought you were going to throw a

fit. I was making conversation. Be civil and let’s talk.”

As Jordan decided whether to stay or go, she sized up

her friend’s lover. Though she’d always been a welcome

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member of the group, Haley usually kept her own counsel,

merely observing the interplay of the others. Jordan had never

gotten to know her very well. However, in all her years as a

paramedic in Dallas, Haley must have seen things that would

make the rest of them cringe and she was equally sure Haley

had both the physical and emotional strength to make her sit

and be civil.

“Yeah, okay. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with

me lately. I feel out of sorts. I wanted to talk to Megan about

it in hopes she could dispense some of her psychological mojo

and make me feel better.”

“I’m all you’ve got right now. Let’s hear what’s bugging

you. I may not have much mojo, but I can listen.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong. This whole week’s been off.

Last Saturday night I had a date with this woman I met online.

We had dinner and then a nightcap back at her place.”

Haley nodded. “You had sex.”

“Yes, we had sex. Good sex. So I saw her again, probably

a mistake. And she’s been dropping by and calling me ever

since.”

“And that’s a problem because?”

“Because she was perfectly clear she wanted to meet for

a good time, no strings attached. I mean, she was clear about

wanting no commitment up front. Really clear.”

“Now she’s acting like she wants more. Gotcha. Is that the

only thing that’s got you off your game?”

“Well, no. Then I see Mac acting all starry-eyed about

some woman who is absolutely not her type and I confront her

about it and she acts as if it’s none of my business if she gets

hooked up with some frumpy broad.”

“Whoa, back up a minute. You ran into Mac while she

was out on a date?”

• 95 •

carsen taite

“I didn’t run into her. I was looking for her and there she

was sharing coffee and small talk with a Shirley Feeney look-

alike.”

“When was this?”

“Last Sunday morning. Why?”

“What were you doing stalking Mac on a Sunday morning

only hours after leaving the fling?”

“I wasn’t stalking her.” Jordan was indignant. “Mac and I

usually do something together Sunday morning. It’s our time.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing. So, Mac’s dating a loser. What else are you

bugged about?”

Jordan paused. She didn’t want to confess Thursday

night’s antics to Haley. Fact was, she didn’t know her all that

well. She was Megan’s partner, now legally married spouse,

in some countries at least. Her general impression was Haley

was pretty no-nonsense and generally tight-lipped. She had a

hard time picturing Haley and Megan together; Megan was

expressive and Haley rarely spoke more than ten words at a

time. On the other hand, she thought she could trust Haley to

not only keep her confidence, but to withhold judgment.

“I had a weird thing happen to me last night. I was in bed

with a beautiful woman. It was an ideal situation. She picked

me up at Sue’s. I didn’t even know her name. But I got up and

left before we even did anything. I’d never seen her before, but

she knew about me. I was freaked out.”

“What did she know?”

“That I’m a doctor. I like sex. I’ll go home with a gorgeous

woman at the drop of a hat.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but is that information

secret?”

Jordan stared hard at Haley and saw nothing but sincerity

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in her expression. Deciding she wasn’t being provoked, she

responded, “No. I guess not. I suppose it struck a nerve to have

her assume she could have me from the moment we met. It

made me wonder whether everyone thinks I’m easy.”

As she verbalized her vulnerability, she glanced up to

check Haley’s reaction and was met with a gentle gaze. “Do

you remember what Megan said when you and Mac were

writing your profiles? About how you put on this show of

being noncommittal to stop anyone from knowing you may

actually like them?” Haley waited for an acknowledgment,

and then continued, “Well, I agree. You do put on a show, but

people who know you and care about you see right through it.

I don’t know what’s happened to you in the past to make you

hide your real feelings, but I’ve seen enough to know you’re a

caring person. When you find someone who cares about you,

I hope you’ll let your true feelings show.”

Jordan averted her eyes to keep Haley from seeing the

gathering mist. Haley’s speech, long for her, dredged up long-

buried emotions. Not ready for them to surface, she switched

the discussion to Haley. “How did you know Megan was the

one for you?”

“Well, it wasn’t love at first sight. The first time I saw her

she was in the ER with one of her patients. I’d brought in two

kids covered in first-degree burns, hanging onto life by the

thinnest of threads. I’m sure I was a dashing figure, covered

in soot. I was on my way to the bathroom to clean up a little

before heading back out to finish my shift. Megan was walking

down the hall and she crashed right into me. I was pissed off

and told her to watch where she was going.”

“You didn’t!”

“Oh yeah. I was an ass. It was a hard night and I didn’t

think those kids were going to make it. I used to be known for

my quick temper, and that night I was in rare form.”

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“What did she do?”

Haley sighed. “She told me I looked like I could use a

cold drink. Then she bought me a bottle of water from the

vending machine.”

Jordan laughed, recognizing Megan’s levelheadedness

with which she was familiar. “What happened then?”

“It’s hard to stay mad at someone who’s being reasonable,

especially since it wasn’t her I was mad at her anyway. I said

thanks for the water and left.”

“That’s it? Where’s the fairy-tale ending?”

“There’s no fairy-tale ending, as you’re fond of pointing

out. The next week, I found out who she was and apologized

for being rude. I asked her out. She said yes. And now we’re

married.”

Jordan had never experienced the kind of certainty about

a woman Haley and Megan seemed to have from day one.

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Well, the hard part was deciding to take a chance.”

“How did you know she was the right person to take a

chance on?”

“Gut instinct. Once you take the first scary step, the rest

either falls into place or it doesn’t. If it does, you know you

made the right choice. If it doesn’t, you learn some lessons and

move on.”

“Again, you make it sound so easy.”

“Don’t be scared to take the first step, Jordan. What’s the

worst thing that can happen?”

“Total ruin of my reputation.” Jordan grinned.

“Exactly.” Haley smirked back.

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chapter ten

It was a perfect day for a backyard barbeque. Mac

slowed the Jeep as she reached the small driveway

in front of Jordan’s building. The driveway was technically

reserved for those delivering takeout, dry cleaning, and other

such amenities to the residents. Spying Jordan, she turned in

and backed around, glad she wouldn’t have to find a parking

space in the tiny garage beneath the building.

“What? No top down? What kind of road trip is this?”

Jordan teased as she folded her limbs into the sporty

Wrangler.

“You’ll survive.” Mac headed for the freeway. Her

brother and his family lived in Frisco, and though Frisco was a

mere seventeen miles north of Dallas, it was the equivalent of

driving to Oklahoma. “Besides, we wouldn’t want your hair to

get messed up, would we?”

“I’d live.” Jordan let her gaze travel the length of Mac’s

form, taking in every inch. Funny, Mac looked even sexier in

shorts and a T-shirt than she did in evening wear. Maybe it

was because the casual clothes showed off more of her tanned,

sculpted skin. Ignoring the part of her that wondered why she

was suddenly noticing these attributes, she declared, “You

look fantastic.”

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Mac looked down at her lime green T-shirt, khaki cargo

shorts, and chartreuse sandals, and asked, “Did you eat

breakfast? Perhaps it’s a lack of food that’s causing you to

see things. I call this style ‘rumpled barbeque couture.’ It’s

anything but fantastic.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Seriously, Jordan, did you eat?”

Jordan placed one hand on Mac’s shoulder and the other

on her knee, and leaned in. “I don’t need to eat to know you

look great, okay?”

Flustered at what she was surely mistaking for innuendo,

Mac managed to eke out an “Okay” in reply before changing

the subject. “What’s in the package?”

Jordan raised her eyebrows. “Package?”

“The one you put in the back. You know, when you got in

the car?” Jeez, Mac thought, what was with her today?

“Oh, that.” Jordan withdrew her hands, aware of an unease

in Mac’s body. She felt bothered to think that her touch had

caused the tense reaction. “A Spider-Man Super Soaker. No

eight-year-old should be without one.”

“Alice is going to kill you.”

Jordan flashed a wicked grin. “But Marty will love it.

What did you get Jeremy?”

“Spidey’s Triple Blast Hover Jet, and Amazing Fantasy

number fifteen.”

“Are you sure the last item is for Jeremy?”

Mac rolled her eyes. “It’s a comic book, silly. The first

appearance of Spider-Man in a Marvel comic. It’s a collector’s

item.”

“What a relief. I was scared you’d taken an inappropriate

detour to an adult toy store for Jeremy’s gift, but instead you’re

giving him something to mourn once he’s an adult.”

“To mourn?” Mac cast her a puzzled look.

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“He’s eight. Do you seriously think he’ll keep it in

cellophane for the next twenty years?”

Mac laughed. “You’re a mess.”

“That’s for sure.” Jordan fiddled with the radio tuner,

dialing quickly past Nellie Furtado’s “Promiscuous” and

settling on “Unwritten” by Natasha Bedingfield. Leaning back

in the bucket seat, she shifted slightly to get a better view of

her companion. “Mackenzie?” She hesitated as she broached

a more serious topic. “I’ve been meaning to apologize for last

Sunday.”

“Did you forget how to form the words?” Mac’s tone held

dual layers of tease and hurt.

“I’m sorry I was such a jerk and I’m sorry I haven’t said

so,” Jordan replied sincerely. “I have no right to tell you who

you should or shouldn’t date.”

“Well, you’re right about that.” Mac started to say more,

but then refrained from a sermon on the issue. “Let’s make a

deal. I won’t make any disparaging remarks about your dates

and you’ll return the favor.”

“It’s a deal,” Jordan agreed.

She stared absently out the window. If her future dates

were with the woman she’d been thinking about constantly for

the last two days, Mac would have nothing to criticize.

v

Marty, Alice, and Jeremy lived in a two-story red brick

house on a street lined with two-story red brick houses.

The primary distinguishing characteristic was the stenciled

numerical address at the curb. Mac parked her Jeep out front.

The birthday boy himself answered the door and greeted

Mac and Jordan with big hugs. “Aunt Mac, Aunt Jordan, come

out back and see what I got for my birthday.”

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Mac called out, “Brother dearest, what in the world did

you buy this child?

“I’m not a child. I’m eight years old.”

“Hey, partner, do you know any kids who might like to

unwrap some presents?” Jordan asked, nodding toward the

brightly colored packages in her arms.

“Me! Me!”

Marty walked into the foyer and snatched up his exuberant

son, throwing him over his shoulder. With the same blond hair,

brown eyes, and athletic build, Marty and Mackenzie were

easy to pick as brother and sister. The slightly taller sibling

addressed the child dangling from his shoulder. “Whoa there,

mister. It’s not time for presents yet. We have to feed the present

bringers first.” Turning to the women, he said, “Everyone’s out

back. Burgers and dogs go on the grill in fifteen minutes.”

Jeremy grabbed a hand each from Mac and Jordan and

led them quickly through the house, heading straight for the

backyard. A dozen similarly excited eight-year-olds were

dividing their time between the shallow end of a large swimming

pool and what was clearly Jeremy’s favorite birthday present,

a trampoline.

Jordan added their gifts to the pile already amassed on

one of the tables on the deck, remarking to Mac, “We may as

well throw these in the trash. Our pitiful gifts have no chance

against that monstrosity.”

“Seriously,” Mac agreed. “I had no idea we’d be up against

that kind of competition. You want a beer?”

“Sounds great. Should we go see if Alice needs

anything?”

“I’ll get our beer and check with her on my way back.

Don’t hog the trampoline while I’m gone.”

“I’ll resist the impulse to show off,” Jordan promised. As

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she watched Mac head back into the house, she added quietly,

“Especially if you’re not going to be watching.”

Mac paused in the doorway and looked back, puzzled by

Jordan’s mood. She sure was acting funny today. If Mac didn’t

know better, she’d think Jordan was flirting with her. Shrugging

the thought aside, she made her way to the kitchen and greeted

her sister-in-law with a quick hug around the shoulders.

Alice was up to her elbows in platters of burgers, hot dogs,

and all the fixings. Without glancing up, she said, “Will you

grab the bottles of ketchup and mustard in the fridge and put

them in those thingies over there?” She waved in the direction

of a stack of chrome condiment carriers sitting on the kitchen

island.

“Sure,” Mac responded, grabbing the bottles. “You have

quite a crowd out there. What else do you need done?”

“I know it doesn’t look like it, but everything is pretty

well under control. We decided to keep it simple. The kids

don’t care what they eat. All they want to do is swim and play

on the trampoline.”

“And what a trampoline it is. I could have used a little

warning so I could at least have tried to compete in the gift

department.”

“It was Marty’s idea. Frankly, I think it’s kind of dangerous,

but he insisted the kids are as likely to hurt themselves in

the pool. Now we have two death traps in the backyard.”

Alice grinned. “We should be the most popular house on the

block.”

“Are you going on about the trampoline again, woman?”

The rumble of a deep male voice beat its owner into the

kitchen.

“Get in here, Marty, and make yourself useful,” Alice

called out.

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Mac laughed as her brother poked his head around the

corner, checking out the situation before he approached.

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me for making our son the

happiest kid in the world?” he asked her.

“Quit trying to get everyone on your side, Marty.” Alice

shoved a plate of hamburger patties into his arms. “Start cooking

and I’ll let you know when you have redeemed yourself.”

“Hang on a minute.” Marty set the platter on the counter.

“I need to perform a brief interrogation of my sister, the online

dating guru.” At Mac’s loud groan, he said, “Don’t worry. I

already brought Alice up to date. You should know we have no

secrets. Tell us everything. Have you been fishing lately?”

“I’ve declined the advances of a certain avid fisher-

woman.”

“And here I was hoping to host a fish fry for the two of

you to celebrate your newfound happiness,” Marty gibed.

Mac made a gagging gesture. “You will, however, be

pleased to know I do have a bona fide date set up for next

week.”

“Someone you met online?” Alice asked.

“That’s right. She said all the right things, so I decided to

go ahead and set up a meeting and find out firsthand if she’s

for real.”

“Good plan, sis. I hope she’s fantastic.” Sweeping her into

a big hug, Marty added, “You deserve the best.”

“Thanks, Marty.” As Mac leaned into his embrace she

whispered in his ear, “You do too.”

“Marty, offer your sister a beer, then get your butt outside

and start cooking.”

“Damn,” Mac muttered. “I told Jordan I’d be right back

with something to drink.”

“She’s fine,” Marty said. “We have coolers outside to keep

the adults well hydrated. Someone will show her the stash.”

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“Cool. Well, brother dear, I think you better start grilling

before your wife disowns you. I’ll help. I do own one of the

best restaurants in Dallas, you know.”

“Yeah, kinda makes me wonder why we didn’t put you in

charge of this shindig. Come on and show me what you got.”

Marty retrieved his platter and led the way to the door.

v

“Want to help me find the adult beverages?”

Jordan turned toward the sound of a silky voice and found

herself looking at a gorgeous face framed in waves of light nut

brown hair. Spicy amber and rose notes emanated from the

woman, and the scent rallied her attention. She glanced toward

the patio doors, but Mac was nowhere in sight. “Sure,” she

replied. “I could use something to help me cool off.”

The beauty led her toward the deck, where picnic tables

were lined with red and white checkered tablecloths. Several

were stacked with plates and condiments. Off to the side several

coolers were tucked under a bench, moisture glistening from

the sides of their chrome frames. The spicy-scented woman

leaned down to open one of the lids, then spent a moment

sorting through the ice. Jordan’s gaze was transfixed as her

newfound friend’s shorts rose up on her bronzed thighs to

reveal the taut, round curves of her butt. At the same time,

they rode down on her waist to show off the sculpted small of

her back.

Jordan glanced away quickly as she was handed a frosty

cold bottle of Harp Lager.

“Does this work?” the woman asked, still grasping the

bottle.

“This works fine, thanks.”

“My name is Samantha, by the way.” She released Jordan’s

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bottle and waved toward the pool. “My son Adam is a friend

of Jeremy’s.”

Jordan’s thoughts raced. This bronze beauty was a mom—

a hot mom, but a mom. She chided herself for feeling anything

anyway. She didn’t even know this woman and here she was

getting all hot and bothered over a five-minute encounter

that boiled down to some kid’s mom helping her find a beer.

Thrown, she considered the fact that she’d had her mind on

Mac since the other night and had been seriously questioning

her own MO. Was it realistic to think she could change? Her

reaction to a total stranger at an eight-year-old’s birthday party

suggested an uphill battle.

“And your name is…”

Jordan realized that she hadn’t replied to Samantha’s

introduction and fumbled to respond. “I’m Jordan, Jordan

Wagner. I guess I’m like your son Adam. I’m here because I’m

a friend of Jeremy’s.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jordan Wagner. Any friend

of Jeremy’s is a friend of mine.” Samantha punctuated this

declaration by giving Jordan’s hand a tight squeeze.

Jordan drew back from the grasp, resisting her proclivity

to respond to the advances of a beautiful woman. “I should

check and see if Alice needs anything.”

“Totally unnecessary. If I know Alice, she has everything

completely under control. I, however, could use some assistance

if you don’t mind.” Samantha shrugged her shoulders, drawing

down the sleeves of her gauzy white top. “I tried extra hard

this morning, but I can’t seem to get sun block on the spot right

between my shoulders. Be a dear and rub it on for me.”

Jordan’s stare gave equal time to the well-toned bronzed

shoulders and the bottle of sun block Samantha thrust in her

hand. It didn’t appear she had a choice in the matter. Slowly

she flicked the cap open and angled the bottle toward her palm.

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A slight squeeze brought creamy white liquid to the bottle’s

surface.

“Aunt Jordan, this is my friend Adam,” Jeremy announced

over Jordan’s shoulder. “He wants to show me what he got me

for my birthday. Could you move over a little bit?”

Jordan grinned at the interruption and quickly scooted

over. “Sure, buddy. Nice to meet you, Adam. In fact, you

arrived in the nick of time. Your mom needs some help.”

Jordan squirted a liberal dose of sun block into one of the

boy’s hands and placed the bottle on the table. “Now, you’ll

want to make sure you rub it in good, right there between her

shoulders. We don’t want your mommy to get burned.”

Samantha glanced back at her, clearly vexed at the

exchange. “Mommy’s already suffering a little burn.”

“I think you’ll be fine. I’m going to head inside. Enjoy the

party.” Jordan stood and almost crashed into Mac, who was

approaching with a tray of burger patties. “Hey, you. I was

on my way to find you. Whatever happened to that beer you

promised?”

Mac glanced down at the sweaty beer bottle in Jordan’s

hand and replied tersely, “Looks like you found a drink all on

your own.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, you were gone a long time and I found

some coolers packed full of beer out here.” Jordan was

confused by the tone of her friend’s response and wondered

if she had misunderstood their conversation earlier. No, she

thought, Mac clearly said that she was going inside to look for

drinks. “Did I do something to make you mad?”

Mac sighed thinking about the tableau she’d witnessed

moments earlier. Two, tall, gorgeous women leaning in close,

sharing what was obviously an intimate moment. She’d seen

the way the other woman devoured her best friend with hungry

glances. Heck, she’d practically licked her lips as her hand slid

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over Jordan’s, holding on as if to stake a claim. Mac wasn’t

sure why Jordan’s flirtations were bothering her lately, but she

didn’t want to spend her nephew’s birthday party watching

another seduction.

“I’m not mad,” she said coldly. “It doesn’t do any good to

get frustrated with things that are never going to change.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jordan

protested.

“It doesn’t matter. Everything’s fine. Come help me get

these on the grill.” Mac led the way, grateful for the interruption

the boys had provided to the action starting on the patio. Why

was it that everyone thought Jordan was theirs for the taking?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a shout from Marty, who

was balancing a platter of hot dogs, several packages of buns,

and a wide selection of grilling implements. Jordan dashed

over to save the platter as it was about to slip from his grasp.

“I figure we can feed the kids first and then we adults can

have a semi-peaceful meal,” he said as he lined the meat on the

grill like a backyard barbeque master.

Jordan peered over his shoulder, admiring his skill.

“Marty, who all is at this shindig?”

“Mostly kids from the neighborhood and their parents. I

saw Samantha Bennett had you cornered. Care to share?”

Stealing a look at Mac, who was fiddling with the burgers,

Jordan countered his question with one of her own. “What’s

her story?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me. She lives down the street

in the biggest house on the block. She had a husband when

she moved in, but he’s been AWOL for the last few months.

She seemed to be warming up to you. Maybe she’s switching

teams.”

Fed up with what she was hearing, Mac interjected, “Big

brother, you scare me when you try to act hip.”

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“I’m trying to encourage a little affection between friends.

It seemed like she was into Jordan.”

“Yeah, and who isn’t.” Mac’s mutter was barely loud

enough to register, but she caught a sharp look form Jordan.

Marty didn’t notice, asking, “Jordan, what do you think

about Mac’s new prospect?”

“Prospect?” Jordan shot another look at Mac, who averted

her eyes. “Gee, Marty, I don’t seem to be privy to this latest

piece of gossip. Dish.”

“It’s nothing,” Mac said. “I was telling Marty about our

online adventure and he thinks I should try harder to find love

in cyberspace, that’s all.”

A burst of cold air from the house was followed by a

parade of Mac and Marty look-alikes, alerting the guests that

the rest of the Lewis clan had arrived.

Marty waved from his post at the grill. “Grab something

to drink and send the kids over. We’ll get them served and then

I’ll throw on food for us old folks.”

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chapter eleven

Marty, Alice, everything tastes great.” Jordan rubbed

her stomach. “I’m going to have to put in extra

miles on the bike tomorrow.”

“Please. You look fantastic.” Samantha had managed to

snare a seat on Jordan’s right. “I bet you could eat my cake and

yours and still not gain an ounce.”

Jordan’s comeback was interrupted by a shout from the

pool. “Mom, watch me, watch me!”

Samantha placed her hand across her brow, squinting

against the sun while trying to focus on her energetic eightyear-old. “I’m watching, honey.”

Running down the diving board, Adam yelled, “Look!”

His enthusiastic command caused most of the heads at the

adult table to turn. But Jordan was still looking at Samantha’s

face, and the next few seconds were eerie as she watched fear

unfold.

“Adam!” Samantha leapt to her feet and ran toward the

pool.

Mac was already in the water, having anticipated the

accident the moment she saw Adam jump into the air. The

misplaced dive that followed caused him to strike his head

on the diving board, and he was floating in the deep end, a

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small trail of blood nearby. Jordan ran to the side of the pool,

pulling while Mac pushed the youngster onto the stone border.

Samantha tried to push them both away as she dropped down

at the prone boy’s side.

Mac gently grasped her shoulder. “Jordan’s a doctor. Give

her a little space.”

Samantha nodded, tears flowing. Though she stopped

trying to elbow Jordan aside, she remained next to her, sobbing.

Unbearable moments of silence passed as Jordan listened to

Adam’s chest, then turned him on his side.

“Is he going to be okay?” Samantha begged.

At that very moment, Adam gasped and spit up a healthy

dose of pool water. Jordan wiped his chin with the tail of

her shirt and examined him carefully. He had a gash on his

forehead and a busted lower lip. Both required stitches and,

damn it, she didn’t have her bag. Several years in the trauma

ward during her fellowship had taught her injuries requiring

quick attention were apt to occur anyplace at any time. As a

result, she kept a medical bag packed and ready in the trunk

of her Beemer, which wasn’t with her today since they had

ridden in Mac’s Jeep.

Leaning in so only the little boy could hear her, she asked,

“Adam, can you hear me?”

She barely caught his whimpered, “Yes.”

“Good. Do you remember who I am?”

He nodded. “You’re Jeremy’s aunt.”

She smiled. “You’re going to be okay, but I want to take

you to the hospital where we can check you out. You okay

with that?” She looked back over her shoulder and was nose to

nose with the boy’s hovering mother. “Samantha, is your car

here or at your house?”

“We walked here. Should I go get it?”

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Several voices piped up, offering to drive. Jordan looked

up from the mother and son and realized all the party guests

were gathered around. “You’ve got an SUV, right?” she asked

Marty.

He dragged out his keys. “I’ll carry him.”

Jordan nodded. “Someone toss me a towel and let’s get

this show on the road.”

v

About two hours later, Jordan finally returned to the

waiting room. “Sorry for the wait. They’re stitching him up

now. His X-rays came back fine.”

“Thank goodness.” Mac sighed.

“Where is everyone?”

“Marty went back home.” The adults had decided it was

unfair to Jeremy to end to his birthday on such a horrible note,

so the party was continuing in a subdued fashion. “How are

you doing?”

“I’m fine. I’m not the one whose son almost broke his

neck.”

“Well, I bet Samantha is impressed with the heroic figure

you cut,” Mac said. “Lucky you were there to sweep her off

her feet and save the day.”

“Leave it alone, Mac. Her only concern right now is her

little boy. She’s worried he’s going to have a scar, which he

probably will.”

“I’m sure you can fix that too,” Mac said sweetly.

Jordan’s face tightened. “Adam may not want to lose his

chance at a bona fide scar. He thinks it’ll be cool. Can you

believe a couple of hours ago he was unconscious and now he

thinks his brush with death was cool?”

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Mac smiled. “Are they letting him go home now?”

“Yes. He’ll be sore, but they’ve decided not to keep him

overnight.”

“I’ll call Marty. He’s offered to give them a ride home.”

Mac hesitated. “Are you staying?”

“No. I’ve done all I can.”

Mac bit back the reply that hovered. Jordan’s flat tone and

blank expression suggested she’d been teased enough. “Now

that all the excitement is over, I’m starving.”

“I wonder why. You left a perfectly good hot dog to go

for a swim.”

“It’s hard to pass up a chance to be the hero of the party.

Even for a hot dog. Though you did kind of show me up with

all your doctor mumbo jumbo.”

“Sorry. Next time, I’ll let you do the heavy breathing.”

“Very funny.” Mac smiled. “What do you say we get

something to eat?”

“Sure, but nowhere fancy, okay? I have blood on my

shirt.”

Mac grimaced. Sliding her hand into Jordan’s, she said,

“You know, you did save the day. Adam definitely thinks

you’re a hero.”

“Impressing kids isn’t always so easy.”

“Unlike their mothers.” Mac expected a comeback, but

Jordan’s hand slid away and she stood, her expression weary.

“Let’s get out of here.” She started for the door, not even

waiting to see if Mac was following.

Disconcerted, Mac jumped up and strode after her. When

they got to the car, she said, “There’s an extra T-shirt in my

gym bag if you want to change. I was thinking we could grab

a burger at Hunky’s.”

“That sounds like a plan.” Jordan let herself into the

passenger side.

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She was silent as they drove, but her discomfort showed

in every shallow breath she drew. Mac knew her too well not

to notice, but she also knew enough not to speak. Whatever

Jordan had on her mind, she wasn’t going to share it.

v

Parking on the Cedar Springs strip was scarce, but Mac

found a place for the Jeep on a residential street a couple

of blocks away and they walked in silence to the popular

neighborhood burger joint. The diner itself wasn’t busy, as

most of the evening crowd in Oak Lawn had already eaten and

were on their way out to the bars. Mac and Jordan settled into

a booth and wasted no time ordering cheese burgers, fries and

draft beer.

Mac grinned as she watched her fidget. Jordan’s full chest

strained against the cotton fabric of the tight little T-shirt she’d

borrowed. Truth be told, she looked damn good. The taut

garment accented both well-toned muscles and ample breasts.

“What’s the matter?” Mac gazed down pointedly. “A little

tight?”

“More than a little. Now I remember why I stopped raiding

your closet back in high school. Of course, this is pretty tight.”

Jordan’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It must be your

‘impress the girls at the gym with your toned body’ shirt.”

“Yeah, that’s it. But now you’ve stretched it out with your

big boobs, it won’t impress anyone anymore.”

“Very funny.”

“That’s me, the good humor girl.”

“Speaking of being in a good humor, Marty seemed to

think you’re excited about an upcoming date. Care to dish?”

“Poor segue. Marty wants me to be happily married, so he

thinks every date is the first step down the aisle.”

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“Poor dodge,” Jordan countered. “Do you have a date

with someone new?”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean ‘maybe’?” Jordan cocked her head at

the cagey response.

“I have a date, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh, is it with that Charla woman again? I swear I won’t

make fun, though I don’t get what you see in her.”

Mac sighed with frustration. “No, Jordan, it’s not with

Charla. It’s with someone new. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You mean you don’t want to talk about it with me.”

Jordan’s voice rose. “You had no problem discussing your

newfound love with Marty.”

Mac kept her tone even despite the defensiveness Jordan’s

accusation sparked. “He asked and I told him I have a date. I

told you what I told him. End of story.”

“Did you meet this new love interest online?”

“Can we change the subject?”

Jordan’s response dripped sarcasm. “Sure, Mac. Let’s talk

about whatever it is people who haven’t known each other

practically their whole lives talk about.”

Mac rolled her eyes. “Don’t be an ass.”

“I share everything with you. I don’t get why you’re

shutting me out.”

“Maybe we’d both be better off if you didn’t share

everything.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jordan’s look reflected

genuine surprise.

“Maybe we don’t need to share every detail of our love, or

in your case, sex lives with each other. We have plenty of other

things to talk about.” Even as she spoke the words, she wanted

to take them back. They’d always shared everything, and it felt

strange to have to back away.

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Jordan stared across the table, stunned. Apparently, her

commentary about Mac’s last date had pissed Mac off. But

surely Mac knew she only cared about her and didn’t think

Charla was worthy of her. She certainly didn’t expect to be

shut out like this and she didn’t think it was fair. They’d shared

the details of their dating lives for the last twenty years. There

had to be something else going on, but Jordan couldn’t fathom

what it might be. Mixed in with her confusion over the wall

Mac had erected were other confounding feelings. For the

past few days, Jordan’s thoughts had been laced with more

than friendly feelings toward Mac, stirring butterflies in her

stomach. Even now, Mac looked adorable in her still-damp

shorts and T-shirt. Normally, Jordan would have sealed the

deal with the likes of Samantha Bennett, regardless of the

accident. She would have offered herself as a distraction, one

the hot mom would have been unable to resist, not that she’d

tried. She’d done everything she could to capture Jordan’s

attention.

Jordan toyed with her cutlery, sneaking covert looks at

Mac as she consumed fries, seemingly oblivious. Whether

her quest was for comfort or craving, she wasn’t sure, but

she couldn’t look away. Her only certainty was she wanted

something she had never experienced before.

“Jordan, did you hear what I said?” Mac’s tone was

exasperated.

Looking directly into her eyes, Jordan saw pleading

beneath the exasperation. Mac was pleading with her to be

given this, whatever it was. Maybe independence. She started

to reply, but self-realization stopped her. She had no business

saying anything about what she felt when she didn’t know

what it meant, for either of them. Noting Mac was waiting for

a response, she said simply, “Yes. You’re right. There’s plenty

of other stuff we can talk about.”

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“Okay. Well, thanks, then. I appreciate your

understanding.”

Jordan’s gaze didn’t waver. “Whatever you need, Mac.

Whatever you need.”

They finished their meal without another word, despite

the “plenty of other stuff” they could talk about.

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chapter twelve

She’d been waiting in the bar mere moments when the

woman approached. Prompt—she liked that. Looks

even better than her photo. Bonus. So far, things were going

well. “Mackenzie?” The voice, questioning at first, turned

quickly to a silky purr. “Your picture does you no justice.

You’re gorgeous.”

Mac knew only one other person who was as forward,

and it had taken years for her to grow used to it. She fought to

hide a bashful response, choosing to appear equally confident.

“Thanks Rebeca. You look terrific yourself.” Indicating the

hostess stand nearby, she asked, “Would you like to have a

drink here or go ahead and get a table in the dining room?”

“Let’s get a table, better for private conversation.”

“Great. We have a reservation. I’ll let them know we’re

here.” Mac made her way to the hostess. While she exchanged

words with her, she glanced over her shoulder. Her attempt to

observe her date discreetly was thwarted by her date’s seeming

attempt to do the same. Their eyes locked. Mac was the first to

glance away, but not without noticing Rebeca take a sweeping

survey, head to toe. A bold grin signaled her approval and

Mac’s face grew warm in response.

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Their table was in a small alcove situated in a perfect spot,

removed from the front door and the kitchen, secluded and

intimate. Leaving their menus unopened, they chatted for a

few minutes. The conversation revolved around the basics.

Upon discovering Mac was a restaurateur, Rebeca

expressed surprise at her choice of location for their first date.

“Why not invite me to the Lakeside? Then you could have

been on your home turf and you could be sure that the food

would be great. It always is.”

“Thanks. You’ve been there before?”

“Of course. You must know that you have a big following

in the community.”

“Sure. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you there.”

“I must have been in when you were busy, or on your

day off. It’s a great place.” Rebeca paused to take a drink of

water. “I’m a bit surprised you chose this restaurant. It hasn’t

been open very long. In fact, I don’t know anyone who’s tried

it yet.”

Mac leaned in close and in a low voice said, “Rebeca, I

have a confession to make.”

Emerald eyes signaled anticipation. “I love confessions.”

“I’m mixing business with pleasure.” Mac paused. “This

place offers a menu very similar to the Lakeside and I wanted

to check out the competition. I figured I could try two new

things at the same time. Hate me?”

Rebeca laughed. “Not in the least. You have a very

practical side. Good to know. We may as well make the most

of this, don’t you think? What’s your usual modus operandi

when you’re checking out the competition?”

“I usually order a little bit of everything. Then, either

the waiter thinks I’m a huge pig, or they mistake me for a

restaurant critic. The latter usually results in better service, but

I try never to give them a hint either way.”

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“As good a shape as we’re both in, I think there’s little

danger that we’ll be mistaken for huge pigs. Let’s make this a

working date, then, shall we?”

Mac nodded, pleased at the response. This was going to

be fun.

A couple of hours later, they contemplated each other

across a French press brimming with dark roast coffee. The

waiter’s only remark during the constant parade of dishes had

been something along the lines of “perhaps next time you

would like a larger table,” but his observation was delivered

with a smile.

Though she had a few criticisms with regard to several of

the dishes, Mac decided this establishment would be a worthy

rival to the Lakeside. Checking out her date, she asked, “Are

you as full as I am?”

“God, yes. I can’t believe you ordered four desserts. I see

extra hours in the gym in my future.”

“Do you have a full gym where you work?” Rebeca had

said she worked for a physical therapy facility, but she’d been

short on the detail.

“Of course we do. Well, it’s not exactly at my work. We

have privileges at Images and I use them liberally.”

Mac ventured a bold response. “I can tell.”

“Why, Ms. Lewis, you are kind. Thanks for noticing.”

“I’ve been meaning to check Images out. A friend of mine

knows a personal trainer there. I go to the Y occasionally, but

I could use the discipline of a training routine.”

Rebeca didn’t pick up on the prospect of a workout

companion. “I remember your profile said you’re a cyclist.

I’m sure you get all the exercise you want that way. You’re in

great shape.”

“Well, then thanks back to you for noticing, Ms. Blixen.

With the Lakeside close to the trails, cycling is the easiest way

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for me to keep in shape. I keep both my bikes at the restaurant

so I can take off whenever I get a break.”

“You must spend a lot of time at work.”

“Nature of the beast. Luckily it’s a great place to hang out.

My friends call it their home away from home. And actually,

if it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t be sitting here. Going online

was their idea. The perfect dating solution for a workaholic

like me.”

“Has the experience been successful for you?”

Mac reflected on her “date” with Charla and e-mails with

the likes of the fisherwoman. She realized these would make

funny stories one day, but she wasn’t ready to laugh about

her exploits. She thought about sharing Jordan’s success as

an anecdote of the wonders of electronic matchmaking, but

loyalty prevented her from intruding on her best friend’s

privacy. It wasn’t like Jordan practiced any discretion, and

frankly, her one-night stands didn’t add up to success in Mac’s

book. But she still wasn’t ready to discuss a close friend with

this complete stranger.

A gentle voice prodded her out of her musings. “Hey,

Laker Gal? Are you ready to call it a night?”

Mac snapped back to the conversation. “Oh, gosh, I’m

sorry. I think I fell into a food coma. Usually, I try to eat like a

lady on at least the first few dates and wait until much later in

the relationship before I reveal myself as a foodaholic.”

“Would you like to give this another try?”

Mac paused. She felt cautious about rushing into a series

of dates destined to climax with the combining of households,

but the evening had been pleasant and Rebeca was beautiful.

She wasn’t proposing, and she never would if Mac always

took this long to answer her questions. Fumbling her way out

of rambling thoughts, she finally responded, “I’d love to.”

“Great. I’ll give you a call.”

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v

Ten Tips for Online Dating. Let me guess, Mac said to the

screen. Don’t eat all the food on earth on your first date. Save

some in case she decides she wants to see you again. An hour

after arriving home, she’d given up on the possibility that her

indigestion would cure itself and had taken an antacid. Settling

at the table with a tall glass of water, she noticed the new mail

icon displayed on her laptop. Rebeca, no doubt, writing a Dear

Huge Pig letter: At first I thought you were cute, but then

you ate the entire city of Dallas in one sitting. When I said

I wanted to see you again, I didn’t mean you had to make

yourself big enough I could see you across town .

Actually, Rebeca seemed to have had a good time and

Mac had too. Maybe she would actually call. Of course, these

were modern times. Mac didn’t have to sit around waiting for

women to call her. She signed onto the TLL site and glanced at

the pop-up bar to see who else was signed on. She was a little

disappointed and surprised to find Jordan wasn’t present. Apart

of her wanted to share the details of her evening, but Aimee’s

words of caution echoed and she reaffirmed her decision to

keep this new venture under wraps for now.

Grinning, she started typing a “had a great time” message

to Rebeca. She wrote and rewrote, struggling with what

should be such a quick and easy task. The very act of sending

a message seemed a little too eager, and she wasn’t eager. In

fact, she was feeling inexplicably reticent. Unable to put her

finger on what was holding her back, she took one last look to

see if Jordan had signed on. Her absence decided the question.

She deleted the message to Rebeca, unsent, and went to her

bedroom to read a few pages from Lost Loves before falling

asleep.

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The revelation lay like a land mine between them

and both feared to tread the hazardous path back to

the other. Shannon drew into herself, seeking healing

for the wound inflicted on her vulnerable soul. Why,

she cried silently, why did I speak my feelings? I barely know

this woman.

This fact was made plain by the proclamation

uttered from her lover’s lips. “I will never say I love

you. I will never be in love with you or anyone, for that

matter.”

The words were not couched in sentimental

phrasing, but instead landed like rocks thudding on the

soil, ruining the garden Shannon had prepared for the

growth of their future together. She posed a simple

question, hoping the answer would carry the rocks

away. “Why?”

“I don’t believe in love. I do like you immensely

and I thoroughly enjoy what we have together. Can’t

that be enough?”

Why should it have to be? Shannon’s inner voice

screamed. Her outer voice formed rational questions.

“I don’t understand. Where do you draw the line

between ‘immense like’ and love? What are you trying

to tell me?”

Dylan paused before delivering a careful response.

“I will never make a life commitment to you, never

pledge you undying depth of feeling. I don’t want those

things from you or anyone and I don’t expect or want

them for myself.”

Shannon sat still unable and unwilling to respond

for fear of what might follow. Frozen with disbelief,

she held back tears. She had no desire to let this woman,

who now seemed a stranger, witness her vulnerabilities

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any longer. Base instincts led her to reach for the

nearest garment and cover her bare breasts. Suffering

from the overexpense of feeling, she could not afford

to be naked anymore.

A burning desire to know what Shannon would do next

wasn’t enough to keep Mac’s eyes open. She fell asleep with

the book still clutched in her hand.

v

“Aimee tells us you had a date with someone new last

week,” Megan said.

“Actually, I saw her again yesterday,” Mac replied,

looking toward the bike trail. There was still no sign of Jordan.

Everyone was relieved, since they would be able to discuss

the details of her birthday party without having her walk up on

them. “We had lunch at the Bronx.”

“Are you going to tell us all about it or are we going to

have to hold you down and torture you until you talk?”

Mac reflected on her two dates with Rebeca. She

supposed they’d had a good time getting to know each other,

but something was off and she wasn’t sure if they were getting

to know each other after all. Rebeca seemed evasive whenever

Mac mentioned her job. Career usually provided fertile ground

for conversation topics, so it was strange that she dodged career

questions. And she always steered the conversation to Mac’s

friends, expressing a strange interest in all they did. When

Jordan’s name was mentioned, she acted like a reporter hot

on the trail of a breaking story. Mac had spent the last week

trying to reconcile the intelligent, together woman from their

first date with the evasive, yet inquisitive woman who’d since

emerged.

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Realizing she hadn’t responded to Megan’s question and

unsure about how to relay what were probably nothing more

than initial dating jitters, Mac merely shrugged and answered,

“What can I say? She’s attractive and fun to be around. We

seem to be getting along fine.”

“Fine, huh? I’ve always considered the word ‘fine’ to be a

nice substitute for ‘dull.’”

“What are we talking about?” A bag landed on the floor

and Jordan pulled out a chair.

Mac glanced around the table, willing her friends into

silence, wondering how much of their conversation Jordan

had heard on her approach. Deciding she couldn’t have heard

much, she replied, “Nothing important. Nice of you to join

us.”

“Sorry I’m late. I had to check on a patient. What’s got

you all looking so twitchy?” She cocked her head as everyone

looked to the others to respond.

Megan spoke first. “Nothing much.” She poked Haley

in the side as if to signal she should chime in with a more

informative response. Haley gave her a startled look and said

nothing.

Jordan obviously thought the whole exchange was

amusing. “You’re trying to decide what to get me for my

birthday.”

Mac scrambled for a response that wouldn’t give their

plans away. “Yep, we are. Glad you’re here to give input. I

was thinking a Learjet, but these gals think you wouldn’t get

enough use out of it.”

She cast a desperate glance at Aimee, who promptly added,

“I personally think we should get you a real house, a sprawling

estate in Highland Park. I would reduce my commission, of

course.”

Megan picked up the string and ran with it. “A new wing

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for your practice, complete with the spa amenities you’ve been

talking about. You could name it after us, put a plaque on the

wall.”

Jordan laughed and started to take her seat when her

BlackBerry buzzed. “Those are all great suggestions. I have

to take this call, but I’ll be right back with some suggestions

of my own.”

As Jordan walked away from the table, Mac sighed. “How

lame are we at surprises? One idle question and we almost

gave it all away.”

“We recovered nicely and I’m sure she doesn’t have a

clue,” Megan said. “Now, let’s talk about something else in

case we don’t see her coming back. Everything will go off

without a hitch, I’m sure of it.”

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chapter thirteen

When the shouting died down, Jordan was finally

able to focus on the sea of faces all staring at her.

The usual suspects—Megan, Haley, Aimee—were present,

along with the entire staff of the Lakeside. She spotted several

members of her local LGBT networking group, all the members

of her office staff, and a few doctor friends. Someone must have

swiped her BlackBerry to make the guest list. This was quite

a crowd. Sally Gannon stood in front of her saying something,

but Jerry Lee Lewis was wailing the lyrics of “Thirty-nine and

Holding” and Jordan was reduced to trying to lip-read.

She nodded when Sally mouthed, “Scotch?”

Sally made her way to the bar, and Jordan watched her

engage in a similar exercise to accomplish her purpose. Sally

always wore a basic “uniform” of khakis and polo or button-

down shirts in muted colors and brown or black Doc Martens.

Her close-cropped hair remained in the same style and she

wore no jewelry except a simple stainless steel watch and a

plain gold band on her left ring finger. Jordan liked her and

appreciated all she did to make Mac’s life easier.

Mac, Megan, Aimee, and Haley crowded around Jordan,

exchanging hugs and exclamations.

“You should’ve seen your face,” Megan shouted above the

music. “Who would’ve believed you would be easy to trick?”

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“You were surprised, weren’t you?” Mac asked.

Jordan laughed. “I’m sure I looked stunned. I had no idea

y’all were up to anything. You got me.” She slipped an arm

around Mac’s waist, leaned in close, and whispered in her ear,

“This was quite a surprise, Miss Lewis.”

“Don’t look at me. This was a group effort.” Gesturing to

the rest of the group, she continued, “Everyone here gets equal

blame, uh, I mean credit. Now, it’s time for the good doctor

to make the rounds and greet her guests.” She pushed Jordan

gently toward the crowd.

Jordan felt an overwhelming desire to stay right where

she was, but Mac was right, she was obliged to circulate. She

kissed her on the cheek, whispered, “Thanks for all of this,”

and moved reluctantly away.

As she made her way around the restaurant, she was

impressed with every detail of the party. Paper lanterns in a

rainbow of colors brightened the room, and the tables were

adorned with glass vases filled with colorful gerbera daisies.

Servers wandered the room urging guests to partake of a host

of scrumptious appetizers, and a large table near the doors

to the Dock was covered with more of the tempting treats. A

deejay spun pure 1980s retro. Thinking there would be dancing

later, Jordan paused to speak to various groups of her friends,

colleagues, and acquaintances, sampling the goodies along the

way. About forty-five minutes later, having made her way

back to where she started, she spotted another familiar face

and wondered how she could have missed seeing Grace in her

earlier pass through the crowd. The tall brunette was standing

with her back to the bar, lined with guests vying for beverages.

Jordan waded through the crowd to say hello.

Grace’s eyes lit up when she saw her, and she waved a

greeting. At the same time, a man standing next to her turned

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slightly, placing a drink in her hand. The light from the bar

illuminated his profile as he placed an arm across Grace’s

shoulders and nuzzled against her neck. The smile on Grace’s

face turned quickly into a grimace as Jordan stopped walking,

immobilized. As Grace started toward her, she forced herself

to move. Ignoring looks from the guests she passed, she

dashed from the room, not stopping until she reached the back

corridor of the restaurant.

Crouching, she bent over and tried to catch her breath.

Her head was spinning and the pit of her stomach ached. The

sour taste in her mouth signaled nausea, and dizziness made

her sink to the ground. Questions pelted her like hail, striking

hard and often. Why was her father here? Why was he kissing

Grace? Why was Grace looking like she enjoyed it? How long

has this been going on? Who else knew?

Rocking in place, Jordan felt small and vulnerable and

betrayed.

v

“Don’t you dare come in here.” Nick looked affronted.

“We have everything under control and you’ll mess up my

system. Go be a fabulous hostess.”

“Fine, fine.” Mac backed off. “I thought you might

welcome a little help, but obviously I was wrong. I’ll leave

things to your capable hands.”

“I will let you know if I need help, which I won’t. Now

go.” Nick waved a knife and Mac hastily beat a path to the

door running into an out-of-breath hostess.

“Looking for me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The young woman was obviously flustered

and the words came tumbling out. “There’s a lady by the bar.

She wasn’t on the guest list, but she said you meant for her to

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be here tonight. I asked her to wait while I checked with you,

but she insisted.”

Mac was puzzled, but decided if a party crasher was the

only problem tonight, then things were going pretty smoothly.

“No worries. Why don’t you show the mystery guest to my

office?”

Relieved, the young woman nodded and returned to the

front of the restaurant while Mac went to her office to wait. At

the sound of a knock, she called out, “Come on in.”

Looking up at the woman walking confidently toward

her, she was thrown to see it was Rebeca Blixen. There wasn’t

enough time to filter her initial reaction. “What the hell are

you doing here?”

“Hello, Mackenzie. I take it you’re not happy to see me.”

Mac didn’t know what she felt. Or rather, wasn’t sure

which of the various feelings she was experiencing was going

to take precedence. Rebeca looked hot and she was dressed to

the nines. Despite the delicious sight of the woman standing in

front of her, Mac felt annoyance creep in. She had purposely

not invited a date tonight. She and Jordan had been a little

out of sorts lately and she wanted to recapture some of their

former camaraderie with a girls’ night out, no dates for either

of them. Plus, she wanted the party to go off without a hitch,

which meant expending her energy on hostess duties instead

of dating niceties.

“Unhappy isn’t the word.”

“Mad?”

“I’m not mad,” Mac said. “I’m confused about why you

would show up here when I told you I had plans tonight.”

“Maybe I wanted to grab a bite to eat.” Rebeca sidled over

to stand behind Mac’s chair. Lightly kneading Mac’s shoulders,

she said softly. “I have quite an appetite.”

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“Come on, now. It’s pretty obvious we have a private

party going on. In fact, there’s a guest list at the door.”

“The waitress was very understanding when I told her you

and I are dating.”

“You did what?” Mac didn’t try to hide her consternation

at Rebeca’s gall.

Rebeca swiveled Mac’s chair so they were face-to-face and

smiled a sultry smile. “Ease up. You’re acting like I breached a

government-secured facility.”

v

Jordan shook herself off and squared her shoulders,

preparing to reenter the party when she heard voices down the

hall. One of the voices was definitely Mac’s and she sounded

pissed. The other voice was fairly soft and hard to make out,

but it sounded familiar. She could hear more as she walked

softly toward Mac’s office. Pausing outside the door, she found

herself eavesdropping as she decided what to do.

“Well, I’m here now.” This time the voice was un-

mistakable. Jordan nudged the door open a few inches, just

in time to see Rebeca Blixen pout seductively and bend low

over Mac. “It’s a party. Will one more guest send it into a

tailspin?”

“That’s not the point.” Mac sounded annoyed. “You

shouldn’t be here.”

Infuriated, Jordan swung the door wide. “I think what

Mac’s trying to say is that she didn’t want me to know she’s

dating you.”

Mac jumped and twisted to face her. “Jordan, what are

you doing back here?”

“Sorry, Mac.” Jordan didn’t bother to temper her sarcasm.

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“I wasn’t spying. I was looking for a friend, but I think I need

to look elsewhere.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mac stood and

quickly moved past Rebeca. “Hey, birthday girl, let’s head

back up front.”

Jordan shrugged her off, jerking her head in Rebeca’s

direction. “What about your date?”

“Oh, she’s leaving. Jordan, this is—”

“Malibu,” Jordan interjected, “nice to see you again.”

Mac looked back and forth between each of the women

standing in the room. “What’s going on?” She stared at

Jordan.

Jordan stared squarely back, her hazel eyes fire-flecked

with anger. “I’ve already met your new girlfriend. Don’t try to

tell me you didn’t know.”

Mac turned to the other woman. “Rebeca?”

“Why, yes, dear, Dr. Wagner and I are already

acquainted.”

Mac didn’t miss the innuendo dripping from Rebeca’s

response, and the craving in her eyes told her innuendo had

been something more concrete on at least one occasion.

Realization dawned and she spat her response. “Don’t ‘dear’

me. I think it’s time for you to leave. Past time, in fact.”

Rebeca turned to Jordan. “Looks like I’ve worn out my

welcome with your friend. Are you leaving? Can I give you

a lift?”

“Oh, I’m leaving, all right, but not with you. Get out of

my sight.”

With a shrug, Rebeca strode over to Mac, pulled her

close, and kissed her full on the mouth. She quickly regained

her balance as Mac pushed her roughly away. With a wink at

Jordan, she left the room.

“What the hell is going on here?” Mac demanded.

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Jordan turned in surprise. “I should be asking you.”

Pointing to the departing Rebeca, she asked, “She’s your new

girlfriend? No wonder you didn’t want to tell me.”

“Why should you mind if I want to date one of your castoffs?”

“I don’t get why you’re pissed at me. What did I do? So

I dated her first. Do you think I might have ruined her for

you?”

“Give me a break. You’re jealous because I can get the

same girls you can. All our lives, you’ve told me who I should

and shouldn’t date, and you’ve made sure you get the best ones

for yourself. It must be killing you that Rebeca chose me.”

“You think I’m jealous?”

“I think you’re consumed with it.”

Jordan channeled her fury into a penetrating stare. Despite

her anger, she knew Mac was partly right. She was jealous,

even consumed with it, but not for the reasons Mac thought.

Her earlier plan to share her feelings with Mac over an intimate

birthday dinner for two dissolved into images of Mac sharing

intimate moments with Rebeca. Her anger deflated and sorrow

settled in. All she wanted to do was leave, quickly. Her hand

on the doorknob, she faced her best friend and willed herself

to show no sign of her feelings. One final thought needed to

be spoken.

“Mackenzie, you don’t know me at all.” She left the room

without registering a response.

Spying the tall redhead stalking down the hallway, Nick

rushed to Mac’s office and entered without announcement.

Mac was standing in the middle of the room, staring at the

door.

“Nick, I need a minute.”

“Sit down, Mac.” As if he didn’t trust her to follow his

command, he pushed her gently onto the couch. “I heard.”

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Mac’s eyes shifted downward and she shuffled in place.

“You’re not embarrassed, are you? I can’t believe that

Blixen bitch had the gall to show up here tonight. I called the

front and told Sally to make sure she was escorted out of the

building and told never to darken these doors again.”

Mac barely registered his words, but she felt comfort in

his presence. “Nick, I think Jordan left the party.”

“Are you mad at her?”

She could tell he genuinely wasn’t sure. “I don’t know

what I feel right now. Maybe some anger mixed with something

else. What am I going to tell everyone if the birthday girl isn’t

here?”

Nick hugged her close. “We’ll say she ate lunch at that

new place and contracted horrible food poisoning. We provide

a plausible explanation for her absence and put the competition

out of business at the same time.” His grin was devilish.

Mac managed a smile in return and poked her friend

in the ribs. “You’re bad. Have I told you lately how much I

appreciate you?”

“No time to be sappy. Get up.” He pulled her to her feet.

“You have guests who want to eat, drink, and be entertained. If

you provide enough of all three, they’ll forget they were here

for a birthday party in the first place.”

Mac knew he was right. She couldn’t hide in her office

all night, hoping against hope that the party guests wouldn’t

notice the hostess and guest of honor had both disappeared.

Steeling herself, she followed Nick down the back hallway

toward the bar. Pausing before the swinging half doors, she

surprised herself with a brief touch of optimism. Maybe Jordan

hadn’t left after all. As frustrated as she was about their fight,

she hoped her sweeping survey of the room would reveal the

redhead. In her very core she knew, before she finished looking,

Jordan was not in the room. No way would her proud friend

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have stuck around after the nasty exchange between them. She

was probably on her way to Sue Ellen’s right now, seeking

solace for her ruined birthday. Well, she resolved, I’ll have to

salvage things on my own. Determined to make the best of the

situation, Mac returned to the party, nearly jumping out of her

skin at a touch to her shoulder.

“Mackenzie, have you seen Jordan?”

“Oh. Hi, Grace. I didn’t know you were here. Actually,

Jordan had to leave.”

“Dammit. I should have talked to her before tonight. I

should have known something like this would happen.” Grace

seemed to be talking more to herself than to Mac. At Mac’s

puzzled look, she said, “I brought Jacob. She saw us together

and I think she misunderstood the context.”

“A common problem tonight.” Mac added with a whisper,

“Jordan and I had a misunderstanding of our own. She’s pretty

angry and I think she left.”

“Where do you think she went?”

Mac held back on announcing her theory, deciding her

irritation at Jordan’s departure didn’t justify trashing her

friend’s reputation. Though Grace surely knew Jordan well

enough to know she was most likely on her way to soak some

of her woe in a bottle of Scotch.

“She’s resourceful. Frankly, Grace, I don’t care if it’s her

birthday. She was a jerk. I plan to tell everyone she was called

to an emergency and I had one of the wait staff take her home.

A blatant lie, but everyone may as well have fun since the

party’s in full swing. No sense letting all this hoopla go to

waste.”

Grace frowned. “I don’t know, Mac. I think she’s feeling

very hurt right now. As impetuous as she is, I’m worried about

leaving her to her own devices.”

Mac shrugged. “I hear you, and I don’t want Jordan to be

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alone with her hurt, but I’m a little hurt myself.” At Grace’s

questioning look, she responded, “I don’t want to get into it.

Look, I know her. She’s probably on her way to a bar. She

doesn’t have her car. Probably the worst thing to happen to her

will be a colossal hangover. Call her if you want, but I can’t

talk to her right now without risking some serious damage to

our friendship.”

“Who’s damaging whose friendship?”

Mac and Grace both looked up to see Aimee and Megan

approaching. The exchanged glance sealed a tacit agreement

that Mac would be the one to respond. She deliberately ignored

the original question and flashed a fake smile at her friends.

“Hey chicks, having fun?”

Aimee responded, “Sure, but the guest of honor has slipped

out and it didn’t look like she was coming back. What’s going

on?” Mac sighed. “The official story is she’s responding to an

emergency.” She paused, thinking it wasn’t entirely untrue

that Jordan was responding to her own private emergency by

running away. Bracing herself for the onslaught of questions

from their friends, she said, “But the real story is Jordan and I

had a fight right on the heels of her seeing Grace in what she

thought was an intimate moment with her father.”

She knew this last revelation wouldn’t have the same

impact for her friends as it did for her. They didn’t know the

history behind Jordan’s tenuous relationship with her father,

and she was too worn out by the drama of the night to fill them

in.

“Is she okay?” Megan asked.

“I think she just wants some time alone,” Mac said. “Tell

you what. I need your help to make sure this party goes on as

if nothing’s wrong. We’ll have brunch Sunday and I’ll fill you

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in on all the details. I don’t have the energy to process it all

right now. Deal?”

Megan and Aimee nodded, obviously dying to know more,

but resolving to wait for answers. Megan spoke first.

“Let’s get you back to the party. Get everyone’s attention

and I’ll announce Jordan had to leave, but we’ll blow out the

candles and cut the cake in her honor.” Megan grabbed Mac’s

arm and steered her toward the bar. Aimee took up her post on

Mac’s other side and Mac relaxed into the solid support of her

friends.

v

The rest of the evening was a blur. Haley and Megan, at

Nick’s instruction, drove Mac home. He promised to make

sure her Jeep made it home sometime before morning. After

a blip of disappointment from the guests at Jordan’s sudden

departure, the revelers had resumed enjoying the party. The

fact that they’d all stayed into the wee hours of the night was

a testament to the party’s success and, thankfully, their lack

of awareness of any underlying tension among the major

players.

Dressed in her boxers and tee, Mac leaned back on the

propped-up pillow of her bed, unable to sleep. Haley and

Megan had insisted on coming in with her and she knew, from

their reluctance to leave, that they were worried about her.

She assured them she was exhausted and would go straight to

sleep.

An hour later, sitting in bed wide awake, she knew her

assurances had been a lie designed to allow her to be alone

with her thoughts. Now those thoughts were proving to be poor

bedfellows, and she wished she had a real person to talk to.

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Her blinking laptop offered personal contact, but Mac shunned

its false promises. Resigned to her insomnia, she reached for

the book on her nightstand and lost herself in the fictional love

lives of Shannon and Dylan.

Dylan wasn’t the type to wait for rejection. She

knew, the moment Shannon clothed herself, that their

romantic interlude was over and she’d been silly to hope

she’d found someone to share the joys of life with, who

was content with nothing more. She had no desire to

reason or explain. It was time to move on.

Why, then, was she feeling sudden resistance

to her usual path away from the reaches of love and

commitment? Shannon’s profession of love had lit

a fire inside her, but surely it was only the flame of

lust she felt licking at her intransigence. Dodging the

danger sure to encase her should she stay to find out,

Dylan dressed quickly and left. Her departure was

acknowledged by nothing more than a steely gaze.

v

Jordan was alone in the lobby. Despite her strong buzz, she

knew where she was, but she didn’t recall the trek downtown.

She stared back through the glass doors and contemplated the

starry night beyond. The revelations of the evening still swam

in her head. She was angry and lonely, and she wasn’t sure

what to do about either emotion. During the past couple of

hours at Fuse, she’d consumed one iced vodka after the next

as if the act of drinking was her life’s purpose. The rooftop

patio had been buzzing with activity befitting a Friday night.

Couples stargazed, singles mingled, and everyone was dressed

to see and be seen. Normally, Jordan would have focused her

attention on the many attractive women in attendance, but

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tonight her focus was inward. The presence of people was

merely a buffer to the loneliness she felt within.

Pressing the button to Rebeca’s loft, she waited for the

occupant to respond.

“Yes?”

“It’s Jordan. I’m downstairs. Buzz me up.”

A click signaled the glass door to the elevators was

open and Jordan pushed her way through. When she reached

Rebeca’s door, she paused. What the hell was she doing here?

Ignoring the question, she rang the bell and hardly had time

to draw a breath before she was staring at Rebeca. A short

blue silk robe clung to every curve, leaving no doubt she had

nothing on underneath. Yet she stood in the doorway as if fully

dressed and ready for anything.

“Good evening, Dr. Wagner. I thought you might be

making a house call.”

Not the response Jordan had expected her visit to elicit.

She’d worked up her anger on the way over, ready to unleash

it on the woman who’d played her so masterfully. A little leg

wasn’t going to dissuade her from her original mission.

“What the fuck were you doing with Mackenzie?”

“Why, darling, are you jealous?” Rebeca batted her

eyelashes.

“Jealous?”

“Oh, you are, aren’t you?” Rebeca crooned. “I’m sorry, I

didn’t mean to make you jealous. You should know you’re the

one I want to be with.”

Jordan was confused and wasn’t sure whether to attribute it

to the many drinks she’d had or whether Rebeca simply wasn’t

making sense. She stared at her, attempting to understand

what was going on. Rebeca reached out and gently put one

arm across Jordan’s shoulders. As she did, her robe slipped

slightly, revealing more than leg.

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She whispered in Jordan’s ear, “Let’s take this inside. I

don’t want to share you with my neighbors.”

Jordan, exhausted by the evening’s events, allowed herself

to be led into the living room. She sank down on the leather

couch. Rebeca curled up next to her and began whispering

enticements.

Jordan shed her fatigue and sprang from the couch. “We

went out twice. Where do you get off thinking we have a

relationship?” Increasing anger elevated the volume of her

exclamations. “You said you weren’t looking for a relationship.

No strings attached. All play, no love.”

Rebeca looked genuinely surprised at Jordan’s anger. “I

lied,” she said simply. “Don’t get me wrong, play is nice. But

what kind of woman wants nothing more than to fuck around?

You didn’t mean all that crap in your profile, either, did you?

I saw through your façade and I could tell you were trying to

ward off all but the truly worthy. Right?”

“I’m not hearing this.”

Rebeca didn’t seem to notice Jordan’s mumbled reply,

intent as she was on pleading her case. “You needed a little

encouragement to realize how you feel about me. When you

stopped taking my calls, I decided to take matters into my

own hands.” With no sign of a response, Rebeca continued,

“I figured all I had to do was make you jealous. What better

way than to date someone close to you, so you’d see what you

were missing?”

Jordan’s anger was as much for herself as for the woman

standing before her. “You think you are ‘truly worthy,’ huh?

Well, I have news for you. If it’s me you’re holding out for,

you’re not worthy of much. Mackenzie is a better person than

either you or I could ever dream of being. Anyone who hurts a

friend of mine hurts me, and I’m not only an unworthy catch,

I’m also a completely unforgiving bitch.”

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She paused to catch her breath while Rebeca looked at

her like she was an alien who’d landed on planet Earth to

spread tidings of ill will. Jordan decided it wasn’t necessary

to expound on the subject. Rebeca wasn’t getting the message

and she probably never would. Why, oh why, had she ever

gone out with this crazy, manipulative she-devil? Walking

toward the door, she refused to look back or respond to the

spiteful epithets Rebeca hurled her way. She was thankful to

reach the hall and escape the building without having a heavy

object thrown at her.

Catching a cab in downtown Dallas was an iffy proposition

at best. Jordan decided to make her way back to Fuse and let

the valet attendant work his magic in exchange for a generous

tip. As she walked, Rebeca’s words echoed in her head: What

kind of woman wants nothing more than to fuck around? You

didn’t mean all that crap… Putting aside the fact that Rebeca

was a master manipulator, she turned the words over in her

head, looking for signs of truth in the blunt proclamation. Had

she really meant everything she’d written in the profile for

Skin Deep? No strings, no love, no relationships? If so, the

question about her worth was valid.

But she hadn’t a clue as to the answer.

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chapter Fourteen

It feels weird having brunch without Jordan.” Megan

glanced around. Mac had been clear when they arrived.

Jordan would not be joining them for brunch this Sunday

morning. She had been purposely vague, though, about the

reason for Jordan’s absence.

“Mac’s in the kitchen,” Haley said. “You gals have a few

minutes to gossip freely.”

Aimee threw a breadstick across the table. “You, hush.

We’re not gossiping. We’re merely worried about our friends.

Does anyone have a clue about what happened the other night?

I haven’t been able to get a word out of Mac.”

“Easy with the breadstick projectiles,” Haley said. “I know

you’re both concerned, but Mac will share when she’s ready.

Obviously, whatever happened at Jordan’s party set them both

on edge.”

“You’re right, honey,” Megan conceded. “It’s hard not to

wonder, though.”

“Wonder what?”

The question wasn’t Haley’s, and Megan mentally berated

herself for letting Mac sneak up on her. She decided she may

as well plunge right in. “We were wondering what happened

between you and Jordan.”

Mac braced herself. She knew her friends had been waiting

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for an explanation. She wasn’t sure where to begin, nor was

she sure she had the energy to tell the tale. She’d thought long

and hard about the scene in her office the night of Jordan’s

party and had concluded that Rebeca had played them both.

Still, she felt a lingering sense of doubt about Jordan’s true

feelings. Was she jealous that Mac could also attract beautiful

women? She’d never felt Jordan was anything but supportive

of her, but perhaps she’d taken too much for granted.

A breadstick-turned-wand captured her attention. “Hocus

pocus, we need you to focus.” Aimee, making use of the

projectile from earlier, tried to rouse her from her spell.

“Jordan and I had a big fight. A bad one,” Mac blurted

out. “We figured as much.”

“Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Now you want to fight with us?” Aimee put a hand on

Mac’s shoulder and pulled her close. “I’m teasing. Sweetie,

we’re here for you. Tell us as much or as little as you want.”

“I don’t know where to start. Rebeca, the woman I met

online and went out with a few times, showed up at the party.

Well, she wasn’t invited. As it turns out, Jordan had met her

online too, and slept with her the first night they went out.”

“Ouch.” Aimee spoke for the group. “I’m guessing you

found this out at the party?”

Mac nodded. “Sure did. In a crazy, jealous throw down.

Jordan walked in when I was telling Rebeca I was irritated

because she’d shown up uninvited. Jordan assumed I was

trying to hide something and that I didn’t want her to know I

was dating Rebeca. Meanwhile, I had no idea the two of them

had gone out before. There I was, introducing them to each

other.”

“What did Rebeca do while you two were fighting over

her?”

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“That’s the weird thing. She flirted with both of us. And

when I told her to get the hell out, she tried to get Jordan to

leave with her.”

“Weird is an understatement,” Aimee said. “What did

Jordan do?”

“She told Rebeca to get lost, and then she left. For all I

know, they hooked up later.”

“Do you think they did?” Megan looked dismayed.

“I don’t know what to think. From the moment Jordan

walked in my office, she was looking for a fight. I’ve seen her

that angry before, but not at me. It was almost as if she was

already worked up about something.”

The moment the words left her lips, realization hit. What

was it Grace had told her? Jordan had seen her father there

with Grace. Mac could only guess what she’d witnessed to

stoke such fury.

“Mac, what is it?” Megan prompted.

Mac hesitated. She was sure she was the only one at the

table privy to the details of Jordan’s history with the other

Dr. Wagner. Though Jordan hadn’t asked her to keep her

estrangement from her father a secret, she’d never shared this

part of Jordan’s life with the rest of the group. Frankly, there

had never been a reason to discuss it. But she sensed more was

going on with her right now than the fight about Rebeca, and

she wasn’t in a position to offer solace. She was still stinging

from Jordan’s angry words, and she doubted Jordan wanted to

be around her anyway.

“I think I know why Jordan was so upset by the time she

found Rebeca in my office,” Mac said, deciding she wouldn’t

wait till Jordan found out her confidences had been revealed.

Instead she would tell her as soon as she could.

She went on to share with their friends the details about

how Jordan’s mother had died and the alienation between

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father and daughter. She didn’t have to explain why Jordan

had overreacted to the budding relationship between her

estranged father and Grace, a woman she loved and respected

like a mother. Relaying the tale, Mac felt a stab of pain for the

hurt and betrayal Jordan must be feeling. As mad as she was

at the way Jordan had left things hanging between them, she

resolved to reach out to her grieving friend.

v

“You are unbelievable.” Grace towered over Jordan’s

desk and made no attempt to lower her voice in deference to

the obviously pounding head resting there. “Your eyes are

bloodshot and you need to change your clothes.”

Jordan gingerly stared up at her. She could only manage a

few words. “Leave me alone.”

Meant to be an order, it came out like a plea. She craved

comfort, but Grace was one of the people she had no desire

to see, hear, or talk to right now. Feeling intensely sorry for

herself, she let her head fall back on the desk. In addition to

self-pity, she was feeling the effects the last week’s activities.

She’d been out every night since her birthday, but celebration

had been the last thing on her mind. Self-flagellation was more

like it, and the combination of too much alcohol and no sleep

was beginning to take its toll. Today had been especially long

and overbooked.

“Get up, Jordan. I mean it. You’re not going to sit here and

sulk all day. It’s your choice if you want to stay out all night,

every night, doing who knows what. But you also have an

obligation to your business and the patients that rely on you.”

Unable to ignore Grace’s persistent presence, Jordan

raised her head. “Oh yeah? Well, bullshit. My patients only

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rely on me to reinforce their vanity, definitely not a life-saving

skill. Let them figure out how to save their own self-images.”

“Fine, Jordan. I’ll tell them their doctor is too hungover

and self-involved to be of any assistance to them.”

Grace’s words pierced, and a combination of anger and

hurt propelled Jordan to her feet. “What the hell do you care?

You’ve pretended to be a mother figure to me all these years

and it turns out you were trying to take her place all along.

Why should I listen to your lectures on how not to hurt other

people’s feelings? Why don’t you get out? We both know

you’d rather be with him anyway.”

Grace steeled her expression, willing herself not to burst

into tears. Jordan was indeed like a daughter to her, though

because of their roles, she’d never had to play the heavy. She

struggled with competing compulsions. The desire to be a

strong role model beat out her usual stance as the loving, but

permissive older friend.

“I’ve never wanted to replace your mother’s memory,”

she said gently. “It’s true, I do love you as if you were my own,

but if I’d ever wanted to be like a real mother to you, I would

have told you long time ago what a stubborn, thick-headed

young woman you are. Especially when it comes to how you

treat your father.”

“My father is a shallow man with no feelings,” Jordan

spat back. “He didn’t shed one tear when my mother died.”

“Just because you didn’t see him express his emotions

doesn’t mean he didn’t have any. Maybe he wasn’t willing to

burden you with his grief. Your father loved your mother as

much as any person has loved another.”

“Bullshit. If he loved her, he should have done something

to stop her from dying.” Jordan paused, but decided not to let

what she knew to be irrational thoughts stop her rant. “All he’s

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ever cared about is making money off other people’s vanity,

and now look at me. I’m exactly like him. I hate him and I hate

myself.”

Grace moved quickly around the desk and encircled Jordan

with her arms. Holding Jordan’s head against her shoulder, she

rocked her gently. “Honey, relax and breathe. You and your

father are good people, though you are so much alike, loving

the two of you is destined to drive me to distraction. I need to

tell you something. Something important, but I don’t want you

to misunderstand my motives.”

Jordan sniffed. “What?”

“I loved your mother very much. She was a good friend

to me. And like a good friend, she trusted me with a secret,

something only she and your father knew about.”

“Dammit, Grace. Quit being cagey. Spit it out.”

“Shush. It’s not that easy. Do you remember Michael

Forte? The doctor your father practiced with when you were

much younger?”

“Yes, I remember him. Michael and Dad went to school

together. They were best friends.”

“Well, I could sugarcoat what I have to say, but I won’t.

Your mother had an affair with Michael. Your father knew,

but he never let on. She knew he knew. She even tried to talk

to him about it, but he wouldn’t discuss it. They never had a

chance to work things out. Her cancer appeared so suddenly,

and with such force, that they spent all their time on last-ditch

efforts to save her life, and then preparing for the inevitable.

But he never stopped loving her and he never told a soul.”

“Then how do you know he even knew?”

“Your mother told me the whole tale a couple of days

before she died. She asked me to keep it a secret. She didn’t

want her one big mistake to color your memory of her. But

she also wanted me to make sure you always knew how much

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your father loves you. The way I see it, her last wishes are in

conflict, and I have to break one promise to keep the other.”

Paralyzed by a swirl of emotions, Jordan stared at the

woman who’d been her most important role model all her

adult life. Anger and confusion about Grace’s relationship with

her father trumped the feelings about her mother’s deathbed

confession. “Why the hell are you telling me this now?”

“Because I know your mother was scared you two would

grow apart without her around to bridge the differences

between you. I know she would hate what’s happened.”

Grace paused. “Jordan, you’re exactly like him. You act like

you don’t feel anything to make people think they can’t get

to you.”

“Are you dating my father?” Jordan shouted the

question.

“I love your father, but our relationship is complicated.”

“My question is simple. Let me ask it another way. How

long after my mother died did you two wait before you decided

you couldn’t stand it anymore?”

“Jordan, don’t say these things. You’ll regret them later.”

“Fine, don’t answer. I didn’t expect you to.” Jordan

moved out of Grace’s reach and stalked to the door. “Cancel

my appointments for the rest of the week.” She had a vague

recollection this was a week she’d planned to take off anyhow,

to have some time out around her birthday. “There shouldn’t

be much to cancel. I’ll get Dr. Smith to cover rounds and any

emergencies. Use the service to get hold of me, only if it’s

absolutely necessary.”

v

“Are you two ready to tell me what you want your new

house to look like?”

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Megan turned toward the voice and blurted, “Haley thinks

Jordan’s in love with Mackenzie.”

Haley nearly jumped out of her chair. “All I said was I

have a hunch about those two. I don’t have anything concrete

to base it on.”

Aimee laughed as she closed the office door behind her.

“And here I was, prepared to help you find your dream home,

and you’re sitting in here concocting wild tales. Near as I can

tell, Jordan’s never been in love with anyone, let alone her best

friend who she isn’t speaking to. Haley, what have you been

drinking?”

“Forget I said anything. I withdraw my wild tale. Let’s

talk houses.” Haley leaned toward Aimee’s desk and imitated

a prospective buyer.

Megan poked her in the side. “Oh no, you don’t.” She

knew Haley well enough to know that she chose to share

her thoughts only after they were fully formed. “You know

something. Tell us.”

“I don’t know anything. I think Jordan has feelings for

Mackenzie beyond mere friendship. I think she’s scared of

those feelings because she’s never felt them before for anyone,

let alone for her best friend.”

Megan’s mind was racing and finally crossed the finish

line. “She told you the night you had dinner, right?”

“She didn’t say anything specifically, but she asked a

lot of questions about love and commitment interspersed

with possessive comments about Mac. I drew my own

conclusions.”

“Wow.” Aimee could only muster up the one word.

Megan spoke next. “Do you think Mac has a clue?”

Aimee regained her ability to speak. “I would venture to

say she has no idea. They’ve been friends forever. I’m sure

Mac never imagined their friendship being anything more.

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At least not in the time I’ve known her. She and Jordan were

friends long before I met them.”

“Lovers often evolve into friends, why is the reverse not

possible?” Megan posed. “I think they’d make a great couple.

They have a lot of the same interests, but their temperaments

are unique enough to give them good balance.”

“A nice way of saying they’re so different they’ll probably

fight all the time,” Aimee observed wryly.

“They hardly ever fight, except for this latest.”

“Nothing like love to heat things up a bit.” Aimee frowned.

“To tell the truth, I had a similar thought about Jordan a couple

of weeks ago, but I decided I must be losing my mind. Now

I’m thinking maybe my gut was right at the time.”

Megan turned to her wife. “Haley, you’ve been awfully

quiet. What’s on your mind?”

“Oh, I was calculating how long it’ll take before one of

you calls one of them to break the good news. Maybe you’ll

split the task? You could call Jordan, and Aimee could call

Mac.”

Megan recognized the gentle humor beneath what

appeared to be sarcasm. Her wife’s skill was in fixing physical

problems. Working in emergency medicine, she didn’t delve

below what she could see in the short period of time she spent

with each patient. Megan, on the other hand, spent hours

delving into her patients’ minds. Haley had expressed, on

more than one occasion, admiration for what she viewed as

the more grueling job, and she understood that Megan had

difficulty turning off her analytical mind.

“Very funny.” Megan was already formulating a plan.

“Actually, my love, I was thinking you and I could swing by

Jordan’s office on the way home.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll wait in the car.”

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chapter FiFteen

Jordan hit the Austin city limit at the tail end of rush-hour

traffic. Things had changed a lot since she had been a

young student at UT. More houses, more big-box stores, more

malls, more roads, more people. Proof positive change is not

always for the better.

She drove until she could cut off the highway, then took

a jagged shortcut through downtown. The sun still lit up the

sky, but the Congress Street Bridge was already lined with

spectators jockeying for the best spots to view the seasonal

flight of the bats at dusk. Austin was home to the largest urban

bat colony in North America. From March to November,

about a million and a half Mexican free-tail bats flew out

from under the bridge each night in search of an insect dinner.

With fondness, she recalled taking several dates to see the

spectacular sight. For women not native to Austin, the nightly

flight of the bats was a thrilling event, perfect for a student’s

budget.

Things were different now, Jordan reflected as she turned

into the drive of the Four Seasons on San Jacinto. Tossing her

keys to the valet, she strode into the lobby, waving off the

bellman coming her way. She didn’t have any luggage, having

left her office with no destination in mind, and in her tailored

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suit and heels, and she felt way too Dallas-looking for this laid-

back city. Producing her platinum Amex, she requested a large,

private suite with a view of Town Lake. Within moments she

would be able to watch the bats from her very own balcony.

As soon as she had her swipe-card, Jordan took the elevator

to her room. She’d no sooner switched on the light and strode

to the balcony when dusk swept the evening sky. The throng of

bats left their daybeds underneath the Congress Street Bridge

and took to the sky as one big banner of blackness. Standing

in solitude on the balcony, Jordan felt the darkness seep inside

her. The crowds of people gathered on the banks of the lake and

those watching from charter boats on the water, all enjoying

the camaraderie of this event, seemed to mock her solitude,

and she was struck by a pervasive sense of loneliness.

Unable to stand the sight, she picked up the phone to

order a bottle of Scotch and a light meal as an excuse to wash

it down, then asked to be connected to the concierge. She

needed jeans, loafers, casual shirts to keep from sticking out

like a sore thumb, but there was no way she was going back

out into the horrendous traffic to purchase clothes for her stay.

The eager concierge took down her sizes and favorite brands

and guaranteed to have several outfits delivered shortly.

Jordan leaned against the headboard, and moments

later the exhaustion of too many feelings washed away her

resistance to sleep.

v

Stress and lack of sleep combined to make Mac feel like

skipping her morning ride. A glance out the window reinforced

her desire to crawl back under the covers. The sky was gray

and clouds hung low, and it wasn’t as if Jordan was suddenly

going to appear and join her. She’d left messages all week, but

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Jordan hadn’t returned a single call. Pulling her book from the

nightstand, Mac promised herself she would only read a few

pages and then she’d face the world.

Shannon hadn’t cal ed. It seemed futile to reach

out to her now. Dylan had hoped against hope her

new lover would see her way clear to the inevitable

truth. They were better off without strings, without

commitment. She had tested the other way. The way

of pledges and promises of forever. That way had

proved treacherous and tricky, undeserving of her

trust. Shannon still believed in promises and had

decided to seek those promises from someone else.

She would learn, on her own, that forever was a fickle

thing. Dylan could only hope she wouldn’t suffer too

much on her journey.

Perhaps, she thought, Shannon would return to

her one day, as resolved as Dylan was to live without

the burden of promises no one intends to keep.

Mac couldn’t bring herself to read another depressing

word. She shut her book, tore herself from the comfort of the

covers, dressed in cycling shorts and a jersey, and made the

short drive to the Lakeside.

At this hour, Sally and Nick were the only ones present.

Mac made herself a cup of coffee and a protein shake, and

escaped before conversation could turn to the events of the

week before and why her best friend had dropped off the face

of the earth. Mac hadn’t been herself since the party, and she

knew her friends were worried, but she couldn’t muster the

energy to put them at ease about her state of mind. It had been

all she could do to make it to work each day.

With the excuse that she wanted to get her ride in before

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the heat of the day became unbearable, she ducked interaction,

grabbed her mighty Isis road bike, and headed quickly for the

trail. Resolving to take a long ride to clear her head, she eased

into a steady pace as she cycled to the east, past sailboats

tethered to the docks waiting for the right winds to coax their

captains into sailing the day away.

So, Jordan had left town. Mac tried to make excuses for

her, knowing the discovery about Grace and Dr. Wagner senior

must have caught her completely off guard. And she had no

idea what the whole Rebeca fiasco had been about. Mac felt

someone was being manipulated, but she wasn’t sure who or

why. In any event, the debacle had been enough to make Mac

suspend her profile from all interested viewers. She’d officially

put the kibosh on her online dating adventures.

As she passed by the Arboretum, she realized she’d already

gone through the one water bottle she’d hastily grabbed from

the restaurant, and she decided to make a pit stop at the 7-Eleven

near the Gaston Street Bridge. Leaning her bike against the

store’s front window, she unzipped her seat bag and extracted

the tiny wallet she kept stowed with her bike gear. The wallet

contained a copy of her driver’s license, a twenty dollar bill,

her insurance card, and two emergency phone numbers. The

first of those was Dr. Jordan Wagner’s. Seeing the card, Mac

paused. She wasn’t even sure Jordan would come running if

she had an emergency. Pushing the thought away, she quickly

ducked inside the store. She didn’t bother chaining her bike.

So many cyclists made this place a regular stop on their route,

they always watched out for each other’s rides.

A light rain started to fall as she downed a Gatorade several

minutes later. Mac clipped back into her pedals, enjoying the

slight relief the scattered drops provided against the heat of

the day. The road provided steeper hills than the path along the

lake, but Mac was in the mood for strenuous exercise so she

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chose the tough route. The pain she felt in her muscles blocked

some of the pain in her heart and mind. She’d had two dates as

a result of her online match making venture. The first had been

a non-event. Charla wasn’t her type, but at least the experience

of dating her hadn’t been traumatic. The same couldn’t be said

of Rebeca Blixen.

Mac didn’t have a clue what had happened there. Maybe

Jordan was full of crap when she said her fling with Rebeca was

all about sex. Maybe she had feelings for her. Maybe finding

her with Mac on the heels of the revelation about her father

and Grace had sent her into a tailspin. What kind of friend am

I, Mac thought, letting my feelings get in the way? She should

have been supportive of her best friend, right when she was

needed most. Mac yearned to set things straight between them.

If only Jordan would return her calls.

Aggravated, she turned her focus back to her exercise and

challenged herself to race up the next hill. The gradient was

steep and Mac started downshifting early in the climb to ease

the effect of the ascent on her legs. She nodded at a fellow

rider as she whooshed by, feeling the change in pace behind

her as the rider pedaled faster to catch up. Nothing motivated

a cyclist like being passed on the trail. Mac was a smart rider

and had lots of experience taking big hills. In the years she and

Jordan had cycled together, they’d done many organized rides

all over the state and were used to all kinds of terrain. She

knew to start working her gears before climbing to minimize

the effect on both her body and bike. Trying to shift into the

easier gears midway up a steep incline would throw a bike

chain.

Mac saw the shadow of the approaching rider as he pulled

up alongside. He was pedaling hard and huffing at the strain

of the climb. Dropping back, she decided to let him pass her

by and keep his ego intact. As he strained to pull in front of

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her, she glanced down at her bike’s computer and checked

her cadence. In that split second a chaotic sequence of events

begin to unfold.

As his bike chain dropped, the cyclist in front of her went

quickly from trying to be first up the hill to trying to keep his

balance. In an attempt to regain control, he stood up on both

pedals, but his action had exactly the opposite effect. With

his weight removed from the seat of the bike, his tires lost all

traction on the slick pavement and his rear wheel jerked wildly

to the left. Losing control, he frantically tried to clip out of his

pedals.

Mac’s experience riding in wet conditions told her disaster

was imminent. She swerved to avoid the bike careening into

her path, but she wasn’t fast enough to avoid the collision. The

impact sent her spinning in the opposite direction, still clipped

to her own falling bike, and careening straight into the path

of an oncoming car. The driver had no time to react and his

swerve didn’t come in time. The impact separated Mac from

her bike, and they both bounced off the hood before landing

back on the road.

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chapter sixteen

Grace, the hospital is on line one, looking for Dr.

Wagner.”

Grace looked up from the mound of paperwork occupying

her attention and grimaced at the practice’s receptionist. “I

thought I told you Dr. Wagner is not available for the rest of

the week. If it’s an emergency, tell them to page Dr. Smith.”

“I told them already, but they insist they need to talk to

Dr. Wagner.”

Grace grabbed the receiver from the handset on her desk

and stabbed at the flashing button. This was the third time the

hospital had called for Jordan, despite having been told she was

not available. “Who am I speaking to?” Grace demanded.

A young male gave his name and repeated a request to

speak with Dr. Wagner.

“As our receptionist told you a moment ago, Dr. Wagner

is not available,” Grace said sharply. “I would be happy to

provide you with the pager number for Dr. Smith. He’s

handling her cases in her absence.” She paused to give the

persistent caller time to prepare to take down the number, but

he wasn’t finished.

“It’s very important that I speak with her in person.”

Grace wasn’t about to admit that she couldn’t call Jordan

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even if she wanted to, since she didn’t know her whereabouts

and all she would get was her voicemail. “No, I am not going

to disturb her without good reason. Dr. Smith is handling

her calls and I would appreciate it if you would respect the

arrangement.”

There was a long silence. The clerk apparently decided

to take a different approach and let loose with a little more

information. “Dr. Wagner is listed as a personal emergency

contact for a Ms. Lewis. That’s the reason I need to speak to

her.” “You mean Mackenzie Lewis?” Grace’s pulse shot up,

and as she listened, her frustration quickly changed to anxiety.

“Oh my, I’m sorry I was so short with you. I’ll find Dr. Wagner

right away.”

After hanging up the phone, Grace collected herself for

a few seconds, then punched an open line and dialed another

number, waiting impatiently through the rings.

“Jacob, I need you. Now!”

v

Brunch on the private terrace was relaxing. If she’d

planned this right, she could have taken a regular vacation and

enjoyed the amenities a whole lot longer. Pouring herself some

more coffee and juice, Jordan wondered how long it would

be before she got bored with her own company. Well, there

were plenty of women in Austin. Some of them might enjoy

an evening with a successful surgeon in a four-star hotel. Even

as the thought formed, Jordan doubted her own proclamation.

Resolving to at least try to enjoy her own company, she took

her coffee and her copy of the Austin American-Statesman,

and stretched out on the padded lounge chair.

The news of the day went unnoticed as she reflected on the

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events that had driven her out of Dallas. She’d never thought of

Grace entirely as a mother substitute, but apparently her father

had made the transition to replace his wife with the closest

remaining strong female presence when she died. Frankly,

Jordan had mixed feelings about the idea of an intimate

relationship between Grace and her father. Though she didn’t

mind having Grace as part of the family, she wasn’t altogether

certain she wanted the additional closeness with her father that

his relationship with Grace would bring. She and her father

hadn’t actually been a family since her mother’s death. They’d

each gone off in solitude, and the hurt they carried became a

weighty distance between them. Neither knew, anymore, how

to bridge the gap formed by grief, and they had both come to

accept the separation with ambivalence.

For the first time since her mother’s death, Jordan tried

to embrace how her father felt. He must have been devastated

when he learned about the affair. She recalled night after night

when he’d stayed by her mom’s side in the hospital and then at

home, where hospice care workers tried to ease her suffering.

He didn’t eat, sleep, or work, apparently viewing all such

tasks as distractions designed to divert the healing power mere

presence might provide. During that time, he’d been absent to

Jordan, barely seeming to notice her existence. Her memory,

previously clouded by her personal grief, was clearer now. Her

father had been a man obsessed, and his singular focus was

powerless against the cancer that consumed the woman he

loved unconditionally.

Could she ever love a woman the way he loved her mother?

Pained by the events of the last week, Jordan closed her eyes

and left the thought unanswered. She wasn’t sure how much

time had drifted by when she felt a presence in the room and

jerked awake. Glancing back through the patio doors, she saw

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a form moving. Still drowsy from her nap, she slowly opened

the patio door and poked her head inside, startling the maid.

“Oh, miss. I didn’t see you. Would you like me to come

back later?”

Jordan smiled. “No need. Go ahead and finish.”

As the maid gathered and replaced the towels in the room,

Jordan picked up her BlackBerry, which was rattling on the

nightstand. She didn’t recognize the number flashing on the

screen and let the call go to voicemail, joining ten other missed

calls on the device. She pondered her options, trying to decide

whether she was ready to start picking up her messages and

easing herself back into everyday life again. Maybe not. She

called the front desk.

“Dr. Wagner, what a coincidence, I was about to ring your

room.”

Momentarily confused at the greeting, Jordan said, “I

want to stay for a few extra days, is this room available?”

“I would be happy to check for you, Dr. Wagner. In the

meantime, your service called and asked me to get a message

to you right away.”

“What’s the message?”

“They want you to call the emergency room at Presbyterian

Hospital immediately. Ask for Dr. Tyler.”

“Thanks.” Jordan kept her annoyance to herself. She’d

expected Grace to field her calls and make the necessary

arrangements. “And there’s no problem with you keeping the

room you’re in. Thank you for choosing the Four Seasons.”

Jordan ended the call and immediately dialed her paging

service. As she waited for the operator to pick up the line, she

examined the list of missed calls on her BlackBerry. Her paging

service, the office, Aimee, Megan, Marty, Grace’s cell phone.

A sense of dread enveloped her and she hung up, immediately

redialing Presbyterian Hospital. She shouted her request to

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the operator. The line rang a thousand times, her grip on the

handset tightening with each passing moment.

“Emergency room,” a harried voice announced.

“Dr. Jordan Wagner. Dr. Tyler paged me.”

“Ah, Dr. Wagner. You’re listed as an emergency contact

for one of our patients. Dr. Tyler’s with her right now, but I’ll

let her know you called and she’ll call you right back. What’s

the best number for you?”

Jordan knew of only one person who listed her as an

emergency contact, the same person she listed whenever

she was required to provide such information. Her stomach

clenched and she felt the handset shake as the realization swept

through her. Mac was in trouble and she was two hundred

miles away. Jordan grasped at the tiniest strand of hope. “Tell

me the name of the patient.”

Until she heard the name out loud, she didn’t have to feel

the full force of pain in knowing her best friend needed her

and she was in no position to help.

“I’m not able to give out personal information. Dr. Tyler

will call you in a couple of minutes.”

“Need I remind you, you called me? This is ridiculous.

Tell me the name.” A command this time, delivered in the

demanding tone of a surgeon. Jordan waited for compliance.

The hospital worker on the other end responded to her

confident demand the way most people did. He resolved to

spare himself a problem. “The patient’s name is Mackenzie

Lewis.”

Jordan sighed, any last hope deflated at the news. She

quickly rattled off her cell phone number for the call back and

disconnected the line. She grabbed her purse and ran to the

elevator, willing everything to move faster to accommodate her

frantic mood. A couple of guests were hovering indecisively at

the concierge’s desk, perusing day trip brochures.

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Jordan crowded them until they stepped back. “I need a

charter plane to get me to Dallas immediately.”

v

Mac stirred. The tiny movement sent waves of pain

through her body, blocking her ability to figure out where she

was. Through the slits of her barely opened eyes, she saw a

shadowy curtain surrounding her. She realized she was in a

bed, but not her own. She peered around, careful to let her

eyes move without assistance from her head, which was a

pounding source of pain. Her left arm was in a sling and the

slightest movement was pure anguish. The core of her body

was encased in a bandage and she sensed she shouldn’t try to

move.

Her eyes failed to find the source of the voice she’d heard

mere seconds ago. Her memory of the words was vague, but

the tone was comforting and she longed to see the speaker. But

no one was in the room. Weary from the effort of her visual

search, Mac closed her eyes and let herself slide into the fog

of her thoughts.

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chapter seventeen

Excuse me, ma’am. You can’t go in there.”

Jordan didn’t miss a step in her stride, but she did

glance back at the nurse trailing after her. “Oh yeah, well, stop

me.”

She burst through the double doors leading to the hospital’s

recovery room. She didn’t have any current information about

Mac’s status, knowing only no news at this point was good

news. The flight had seemed interminably long as she waited

out the minutes for a call from one of the doctors attending

to Mac. Not hearing from them meant no life-or-death

decisions were necessary, which was certainly a relief, but the

communications void had made her crazy with worry.

As the plane landed, she received a call from a nurse

stating only that Mac was stable and in recovery. Jordan paid

an outrageous amount to get a cab driver to race the several

miles from Love Field to Presbyterian Hospital. She ignored

the nurse who continued to follow her, warning that she was

going to notify security. As she entered the recovery room,

Jordan stalked past beds separated only by filmy curtains

suspended from the ceiling. Glancing at the charts hanging at

the end of the occupied beds, she quickly ascertained where

her best friend lay.

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Pulling back the curtain, she gasped. Mac was lying on

her back, her eyes closed. She was pale and drawn. Small

splotches of blood were crusted on her face and she looked

like a battle victim. Her left arm was in a sling. Jordan sank

into the chair beside her bed and wept. “Oh Mac, I don’t know

what I would do if I lost you. I love you.”

Her confession was met with a slight stir from the bed’s

occupant, but Mac’s eyes didn’t open. Jordan slipped one of

her hands over Mac’s and rested her head against the mattress,

overwhelmed by the events of the day. As she shook off the

fatigue, she felt a touch from behind and glanced over her

shoulder into the eyes of her father.

Too tired to maintain her usual irritation at this man she

had grown so far apart from, she asked, “What are you doing

here?” Her words reflected a genuine surprise to see him in

this place, at this time.

“I’ve been here for hours. I came as soon as I heard.”

“You heard?” Jordan could hear her own dull confusion.

“Grace called me when she couldn’t reach you. We were

worried sick about Mackenzie. Despite the fact I haven’t seen

her in years, there was a time I thought of her like a daughter.

And I know how important she is to you. I know Dr. Tyler.

She’s a fine doctor and, as a family courtesy, she let me assist

so I could be close by.”

Jordan ignored all the other questions rising to her mind at

the moment and posed one. “How is she?”

“She’s going to be fine. She took a pretty good hit from

an SUV, but from what I hear her bike took the brunt of the

impact. She has a dislocated left collarbone and a couple of

broken ribs. The scrapes on her face are slight. She didn’t need

my services at all.”

Jordan pointed at the chest tube. “Pneumothorax?”

Her father nodded. “One of the fractured ribs punctured

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her left lung, causing collapse. The tube should be able to

come out in a few days.”

“Thank you for being here.”

“You should thank me for being here. One of the nurses

was racing down the hall with security in tow. I think they were

preparing to forcibly remove you from the hospital. I explained

to them that the wild-looking woman they were pursuing is

actually one of Dallas’s finest surgeons and persuaded them

to back off.”

Jordan glanced down, seeing for the first time what the

hospital personnel had observed when she arrived. She was

wrinkled and scruffy from the hasty flight, and she bet her

hair looked like a bird nest. Actually, her father didn’t look

much better. He wore blue scrubs, and tufts of usually well-

coiffed dark brown hair jutted out in a variety of directions.

Despite the lapse in grooming, Jordan observed that neither

age nor personal misfortune had slowed him down. He was

the pinnacle of deluxe plastic surgery success in Dallas. Since

Dallas had no shortage of plastic surgeons vying for the ever-

growing market, being on top was quite an achievement. Her

father operated a thriving practice in the heart of the Park Cities,

with a six-month waiting list of wealthy patients and countless

associates willing to work like first-year residents, their eyes

gleaming with expectations of their own future fortunes.

Her goal was to top her father’s success with her own

achievement. Her plans included expansion of her facility

to rival the accommodations of a five-star spa resort. No

medicinal clinic atmosphere for her wealthy, accustomed-

to-being-pampered clientele. Taking a page from the many

luxury spas that dotted the city, Jordan planned discreet, deluxe

accommodations to provide the perfect setting for her clients

to hide away from the pressures of the outside world while

enjoying the rejuvenating experience of a surgical makeover.

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Four years into private practice, she was well on her way

to taking her place among Dallas’s elite. She’d spent the time

working her ass off, using every means at her disposal to make

sure her name was synonymous with success in her field.

Though fortunate enough to have a solid source of financial

resources when she graduated her fellowship, she didn’t rely

on her inherited wealth. Instead she approached business

development with the same razor-sharp precision she brought

to the surgical suite. Jordan sought privileges at all the local

hospitals, taking the associated requirement of nights on call

in stride. Every busy night on call generated more patients

filling her office for follow-ups in the weeks after. When she

wasn’t on call, she was marketing her business, using her best

public relations tool: herself. Magnetic and personable, when

she appeared at networking functions people were drawn

to the charming surgeon. She made it a point to be active

in several local business organizations, including the local

GLBT Chamber of Commerce. All of these efforts focused on

a singular objective: to be the most successful plastic surgeon

in Dallas, bar none. To exceed her father’s accomplishments

and expectations.

Now, standing in front of him, looking into chocolate

brown eyes surrounded by red streaks and framed by dark

circles and puffy skin, she realized he was only human. His

normally clean-shaven face was eclipsed in shadow. Despite

his disheveled appearance, he was smiling at her, though

tentatively. Relieved to hear Mac was going to be okay, she

couldn’t help but return his cautious smile.

Perhaps encouraged by her response, he laid his hand on

her shoulder and said, “Jordan, I love you. When you’re ready,

I need to talk to you about some things.”

She never thought she’d hear herself saying the words,

but they fell from her lips. “I think it’s time.”

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His hand tightened. “I want us to heal the hurt between us.

You’re all the family I have and I don’t want to lose you any

more than I already have. When Grace called and told me to

get to the hospital right away, the first thought I had was about

you. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you, especially

when we’ve been odds all this time. Seeing Mackenzie hurt

like this made me realize time is precious. At any moment, life

could be ripped away from us and I could lose the chance to

show you exactly how much you mean to me.”

Jordan’s first response was wonder. Her father had just

said more in a few seconds than she’d heard in years. Despite

the armor she had in place, her resistance melted away, warmed

by his declarations. In that moment, she realized she loved him

and missed his presence in her life and, apparently, he loved

and missed her too. Resolving to explore these feelings, she

replied, “I love you too, Dad. We have a lot of repair work

ahead. I’m willing to work on us if you are.”

His answer was a hug, at first tentative, then strong and

confident.

“Well, I never…”

Father and daughter, still embracing, turned as one toward

the voice.

“As glad as I am to see you both getting along so well, I’ve

come to throw you out.” Grace’s pronouncement was laced

with a smile. “The recovery room nurse has prevailed upon me

to convince my ‘friends’ to return to the waiting room. Come

on, you two. Let’s go.”

Jordan stood her ground. “I’m not leaving her.”

“Honey, she’s going to be fine. She needs her rest. Besides,

all your friends are waiting outside. You haven’t talked to any

of them yet, right?”

“They’re here?” Was she the last to know about the

accident?

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Grace smiled. “Yes, and I’m sure they’d like to hear how

Mackenzie’s doing. She’ll be in a room in a few hours and you

can visit with her then.”

Jordan wavered, knowing Grace was right. But she had

some unfinished business and she wasn’t going to leave the

room until she took care of it. “I promise I’ll be right out. You

can tell Nurse Ratched, I’ll only be five minutes. Let the gang

know I’m on my way.”

“You have five minutes.” Grace took Jacob’s arm and

propelled him toward the door, telling Jordan, “See you in the

waiting room.”

Jordan sat back down in the chair by Mac’s bed. Grasping

Mac’s hand with both of her own, she spoke from her heart.

“There’s never been anyone as special to me as you. You’ve

always loved me, even when I have been decidedly unlovable.

I know I’ve been a real jerk lately. Well, not lately. All the years

I’ve known you, I never let myself admit I’m hopelessly in

love with you. I’ve never been serious about anyone, because

that would have been a betrayal of the feelings I have for you.

No one else was ever good enough for you, as far as I was

concerned, because they weren’t me. They didn’t know you,

care about you, love you the way I do. While I set out to keep

you from finding happiness with anyone else, I let my fear of

commitment get in the way of telling you the truth. I want to

spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you. I

hope it’s not too late. I hope this knock on the head didn’t cure

you of all your romantic notions. Mackenzie Lewis, you’re

going to get better soon. And when you do, I am going to

sweep you off your feet.”

With her vow complete, Jordan kissed Mac lightly on the

forehead and quietly slipped from the room.

v

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“Is she going to be okay?” several people asked at once.

“Yes. She’s got a dislocated collarbone, a few broken

ribs, and a bunch of scrapes and bruises. There’s a chest tube

pumping air into her lung until it heals on its own. It will take

some time, but she’s going to be fine.” Jordan sank into one

of the stiff waiting room chairs and signaled everyone else to

take their seats as well. She was happy to be surrounded by

her friends, but overwhelmed by the rapid-fire questions. The

adrenaline rush of the trip from Austin was wearing off and the

strain of worry was starting to take its toll.

“Where have you been?” Megan asked.

“I was in Austin. I came as soon as I heard.” Before she

could be subjected to an inquisition about her disappearance,

she asked, “Where’s the Lewis clan?”

“They’re all here,” Aimee said. “We got the report from

the surgeon about twenty minutes ago, and then we sent them

downstairs to get something to eat. The kids were going

haywire and the doc said they wouldn’t be able to see Mac for

a few hours anyway.”

“So, basically, I didn’t tell you anything you didn’t already

know?”

Megan chimed in. “Grace said you were here, so we

waited. I don’t know how you got past us. Anyway, we wanted

to get the skinny firsthand from the doctor we know and love.

Besides, we’ve been worried about you.”

Jordan blushed as Megan hugged her tight. Pulling back

after the embrace, she surveyed the group. “It’s good to see you

all. I know I’ve been distant lately, but I swear everything’s

either okay or going to be okay soon. I promise.”

“Let’s go join the rest of the group for lunch,” Haley

suggested. “I bet they’ll be glad to see the prodigal sister.

Jeremy’s been asking about you ever since they got here. He

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was completely unimpressed to be in the presence of a member

of the Dallas Fire Department.”

Jordan grinned at the slight to Haley’s ego, knowing it

was all for show. “Relax, stud. All you have to do is break

out the hat and siren and I won’t stand a chance.” She ran a

hand through her tangled hair. “If you all can stand to be seen

with me looking like this, I could use something to eat. What

do you say we find the inquiring young Jeremy and give him

another report on his aunt Mac?”

The group hauled her to her feet and proudly escorted

her to the fine dining establishment known as the hospital

cafeteria.

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chapter eighteen

Mac wrinkled her nose at the wheelchair. “I hate to

be the stereotypical stubborn patient, but I’d rather

walk out of here on my own. After two days in this bed, I’m

ready to be back on my feet.”

“Banish those butch thoughts.” Jordan pushed the chair

closer to the bed. “The faster you get in the chair, the faster

you get to blow this joint.” Seeing the look of dismay on

Mac’s face, she continued, “Seriously, it could take weeks for

your ribs to completely heal. Everything you do to minimize

physical stress will help them heal faster.”

“She’s right.” Haley added her two cents. “You need to

take it easy for a while.”

“What is this? Medical professionals gang up on poor

patient day? Megan, you want to get in on this?”

“Not me. This doc prefers to focus on your mind.” Megan

leaned in and whispered, “But I promise you’ll feel a lot better

if you listen to these two so you can get the hell out of here.”

“Fine, fine. Aimee, do you mind grabbing my bag?”

“Don’t worry about a thing, missy. We’ll pack up all

this stuff and get it to your house. You could open your own

florist shop.” Aimee gestured toward the many colorful flower

arrangements lining every surface. She directed her next

question to Jordan. “Are you taking her straight home?”

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Mac interrupted as Jordan started to answer. “She is not.

We have a very necessary stop to make on the way.”

“You are not going to work,” Aimee said. “Sally and

Nick have everything under control and you’re under doctor’s

orders not to overexert yourself.”

“Jeez, lighten up. I’m having a terrible shaved ice craving.

There’s nothing like being stuck in a hospital to make your

cravings get out of control. I swear, I have to have one. We’ll

probably beat you to the house anyway.”

“All right, addict. Enjoy your fix. We’ll see you at the

house.”

v

Jordan couldn’t help but notice how painful the ride was

for her friend. Her M5 had arrived from Austin yesterday and

she insisted on being the one to drive Mac home from the

hospital. Over the last few days, she found she couldn’t stand

to be away from her and she was glad she had already planned

to take the time off work so she didn’t have to cancel all of her

appointments. Yet even after spending days by Mac’s side, she

hadn’t been able to wrap her mind around a way to bring them

as close as she wanted them to be emotionally. Her head was

filled with dreams, and in each one she and Mac were a happy

couple. The problem was, she didn’t know how to make the

dreams a reality. The words had been so easy to speak aloud

when Mac was unable to hear them. Now she had Mac’s full

attention, and words failed her.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Startled, Jordan quickly recovered, trying for a jocular

response. “They may not be worth a penny to you.”

“That’s kind of a funny thing to say. What do you

mean?”

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“Nothing. I was thinking you must have a lot on your

mind without taking on my mental baggage.”

Mac sighed. “My brain is doing aerobics right now. How

will I work? How will I shower? The list is endless.”

“Nick and Sally will take care of the restaurant. They

both know how important it is to you that things keep running

smoothly.” Jordan paused to consider the decision she was

about to announce. “Oh, and I’m moving in with you.”

“You think so, huh?”

“Look, before you get started on how independent you

are, hear me out. You need to take it easy for the next several

weeks, which means some restrictions. No heavy lifting—even

bending over could cause a lot of pain. And, you’re going to

have a hard time using your left arm for a while. The first time

you need to tie your shoes, you’re going to be glad I’m there.

I have a lot of flexibility in my schedule and I know all your

favorite foods, so who better to be your maid?”

“I’ll think about it. In the meantime, I need a raspberry

shaved ice with cream. On the double.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

v

Hours later, Mac was too tired to protest when Jordan

made herself a bed in the spare room. Friends and family had

spent the afternoon into evening celebrating her release from

the hospital, and Jordan had fussed like a little old woman at

the lateness of the hour before shoving everyone out. Secretly,

Mac was glad Jordan was staying. Getting ready for bed had

been a monumental task, and if Jordan hadn’t been there she

would probably have collapsed on top of the covers, fully

dressed.

She knew her brothers were happy Jordan was sticking

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around. Marty and Alice had initially insisted Mac stay with

them during her recovery, but they already had too much on

their plate with a raucous eight-year-old in the house, so she’d

talked them out of the idea without any difficulty. Besides, she

loved her house and didn’t want to be away from her usual

creature comforts, cushy goose down bed, sunny kitchen, and

the fanciest Italian coffeemaker money could buy. Mac heard

light footfalls in the hall and smiled, knowing Jordan was

probably tiptoeing across the wood floors in deference to her

need to rest. The house fell still. Mac closed her eyes and let

sleep claim her.

v

It had been three days since Mac had traded her hospital

bed for the comfort of home. Jordan hadn’t officially worked

all week, enjoying the time she was spending with her friend.

This morning, like the two preceding, she entered Mac’s room

with a tray of breakfast goodies, and, unlike the days prior,

Mac was still snoozing away.

This was unusual. Of the two of them, Mac had always

been the early riser. Yet it was nine in the morning and she

was still fast asleep. Jordan reflected back on many college

mornings. Back then, she would lie in bed until the very last

moment, while, no matter what had gone on the night before

and for how long, Mac would be up at the first sign of light,

ready to take on the day. All through med school and her

residency, Jordan had preferred night shifts, always struggling

with hours that required her to face the day well before she

was ready.

Jordan smiled as she realized Mac must be feeling more

comfortable with each passing day, a sure sign her injuries were

healing. Jordan balanced the tray in one hand while trying to

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quietly rearrange the assortment of items on the nightstand to

make room for the morning sustenance. Laptop, lamp, alarm

clock, carafe of water, TV remote control, and a well-worn

paperback. Finally, she picked up the paperback and moved to

the love seat off to the side of the bed.

Mac’s fascination with romance novels had been a source

of amusement to Jordan throughout their long relationship.

Mac had challenged her on several occasions, “Don’t knock

it ’til you’ve tried it,” but Jordan always resisted the dare and

kept to her own favorites in the nonfiction section. Relaxing

into the chair, she decided it wouldn’t kill her to see what all

the fuss was about.

She’d been reading for a couple of hours when Mac stirred

and pointed at the book in her hand. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Oh, this?” Jordan set the novel down on the bed. “I was

moving stuff off your nightstand. Sorry.”

“No worries. As long as you didn’t lose my place.”

Jordan leaned down and gave her a light kiss on the cheek.

“Your dog-eared pages are safe with me. I’ll be right back with

your java, ma’am.”

v

The rest of the week passed without incident. Mac’s

brothers took turns stopping by each evening with baskets of

food sent, with love, from their wives. Nick sent platters filled

with new creations he was trying out for the fall menu. Jordan

commented she wasn’t going to be able to leave the house

because she’d eaten so much she could no longer fit through the

doors. Despite the lame protests, she made no other mention of

leaving. More and more of her belongings began to appear in

the guest room, as she brought in a few new items every time

she left the house to run an errand for her patient.

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They fell into an easy pattern. Mac slept later than she

had in the past and Jordan found it easier to get up and meet

each day with the prospect of joining her friend for coffee as

an enticement. Mac’s rib cage was still painful, but her agility

improved daily. This morning, in fact, she’d arrived in Jordan’s

room early and woke her with the aroma of fresh, hot coffee.

The endeavor, hampered by the healing collarbone, had

taken three trips, but the sight that greeted Mac was well worth

the trip. Gone was the dressed-to-kill Dr. Wagner with every

hair in place. The woman in the guest room bore no resemblance

to her dandy counterpart. Jordan lay sprawled across the bed,

sheets and comforter tangled into knots. Her auburn hair was

as rumpled as the sheets. One bare leg dangled off the bed and

her torso was twisted in the opposite direction. Like Mac, she

was dressed in worn flannel boxers and a threadbare T-shirt

from her college days. Amazingly, she looked as beautiful in

her boxers as she did in Armani.

Mac took advantage of the time before the smell of coffee

woke her friend. She’d never noticed how relaxed Jordan

seemed while sleeping. Maybe she never was when they lived

together. Back then, she was completely preoccupied with

making sure every waking moment was a step along the path

to becoming a surgeon. Jordan had worked harder than anyone

she knew while in school. Mac was sure her hard work had the

dual purpose of blocking her past while ensuring her future.

Mac started to reconsider her plan. It had been over two

weeks since their fight. With the intervention of the accident,

she and Jordan had yet to discuss what had happened between

them. In fact, they both acted as if nothing had happened,

falling back into an easy friendship. Mac woke this morning

focused on talking to Jordan about the night of her party and

putting the incident behind them once and for all.

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Pulled by the scent of fresh coffee, Jordan finally began to

stir. Opening one blurry hazel eye, she croaked, “Is that coffee

I smell?”

“You must be dreaming.”

“You’re right. I must be dreaming if the one-armed patient

who’s supposed to be taking it easy is bringing me coffee in

bed.”

“Oops. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” Mac smiled

down at her sleepy friend. “But if I waited for you to get coffee,

I might have bed sores.”

Jordan sat up, pulling the covers over her bare legs.

“Whatever. A little extra sleep would do you good. I’m a

doctor, I should know.” Noticing the serious expression on her

friend’s face, she asked, “Honey, what’s up? Are you in pain?

Do we need to take you to the hospital?”

“No, no. Physically, I feel fine.”

“Well, something’s wrong.”

“I want to talk about our fight.”

“Oh, yeah, that. I was wondering when the topic would

come up.”

“We both said some pretty ugly things to each other.” Mac

hesitated. “I’m not sure what happened with Rebeca, but I do

know I don’t ever want another woman to come between us.

Our friendship is too important to risk.”

“I couldn’t agree more. I’m not sure which one of us she

considered a win, but Rebeca is a player. She was definitely

out to get something, and I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. I

wasn’t in a very good place when I stumbled on you two.”

“Grace told me about her and your father.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know the half of it.” Jordan relayed Grace’s

account of her mother’s affair and its effect on her father. “I

guess the important thing is he’s happy now. He and I still

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have a lot to work out. I imagine we’ve both changed a lot

since we were last speaking. In the meantime, if he and Grace

are happy, who am I to interfere?”

“Sometimes happiness comes from surprising places,”

Mac observed.

Jordan looked into her friend’s open, honest, brown

eyes and thought no truer words had ever been spoken. In

that moment, she was hit by the raw force of all the thoughts

and feelings she’d held at bay. Happiness was right in front

of her and though the source was surprising, the surprise was

exhilarating. Adrenaline pushed her to say, “Mac, I’ve got a

surprise of my own.”

“You do, huh?” Mac responded idly, fiddling with the

coffee creamer.

Jordan could tell she didn’t appreciate the import of the

announcement she was about to hear. She decided to take

advantage of the theme of the day and surprise Mac with both

the message and delivery of what she had to say. Reaching

across the nightstand, she stilled Mac’s hand and softly said,

“I’m in love with you, Mackenzie Lewis. I’ve been in love

with you for years.”

She lightly touched her lips to Mac’s. The moment their

lips met, she knew her announcement was not only unexpected,

but awkward. Seconds spent in the embrace only confirmed the

knowledge, and Jordan drew back quickly. Seeing the unsettled

look on Mac’s face, she scrambled to her feet, desperate to

distance herself from the increasingly uncomfortable silence.

She walked quickly to the door, hoping her car keys were still

on the kitchen table.

Tossing a quick “I’ll check on you later” over her shoulder,

she fled, unable to bear additional contact with the open wound

of her newly professed feelings.

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Blocks away, encased in the safety of her sedan, she

called her father. Barely waiting for him to register the surprise

he must be feeling at receiving the first phone call from his

daughter in years, she plunged on. “I have some things I need

to take care of and won’t be able to stay with Mac for the

next few days. Would you mind stopping by her house and

checking on her?”

A brief pause followed, then she relaxed as he agreed to

do whatever needed to be done. Jordan imagined he would

bring Grace with him. She shuddered at the anticipation of

the lecture she would receive once Grace found out she had

abandoned Mac in an attempt to salvage her pride. Speeding

home, she concluded preserving her pride was worth all her

efforts. She would lick her wounds in private.

v

What the hell happened? Mac hadn’t moved since Jordan

had practically run out the door. Jordan Wagner kissed me,

she mused dreamily, still tingling from the touch of her lips.

Slowly swimming back to reality, Mac struggled to wrap her

mind around Jordan’s message. She told me she loves me—no,

she told me she’s in love with me. And I sat here like a bump

on a log. No wonder she took off.

Determined to deal with the situation directly, she picked

up the phone and called Aimee. “I need a lift.”

Mac had an access key to Jordan’s loft, but she forgot to

pick it up as she hurried out of the house twenty minutes later.

Even if she had, she didn’t think it would have been good to

barge in with it under the circumstances.

“Are you sure you want me to drop you off?” Aimee

looked concerned. “I can come up with you.”

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Mac was thankful Aimee hadn’t asked a lot of questions

when she asked for the ride to Jordan’s loft. She didn’t have

the energy to deal with explanations, though she was sure

Aimee was wildly curious to know what prompted the request.

“Thanks, but Jordan’s taking me home. She wanted me to come

over so she could check out my arm. She was coming from the

opposite direction and I told her I could get a ride here.”

Mac winced at the hastily hung-together lie, knowing

Aimee couldn’t possibly be fooled by the inconsistent story.

“All right, but if you need me, call me on my cell and I’ll

come get you.” Aimee paused. “Mac, I love you.”

“I love you too, Aimee. I’m fine. I promise.”

Mac got out of the car and waited impatiently for Jordan

to respond to her call on the intercom. The greeting was less

than charming.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jordan asked.

“Be mad at me if you want, but at least invite me up and

be mad at me in person.”

The buzz of the door lock was the only response. Jordan

was waiting at the door to her loft and she waved Mac in, but

didn’t invite her any farther than the entry. She repeated her

question, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“You shouldn’t be driving until your arm heals, especially

not a stick shift.”

“I got a ride. I wanted to see you.” Mac emphasized the

last point with pleading eyes.

Jordan looked away. “I don’t think you do. At least not the

way I want you to see me.”

Mac could hear the hurt and anger in Jordan’s voice, and

once again, she realized how big a gesture the kiss had been.

She hadn’t had time to process her own feelings, but right now

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she was focused on the disposition of the woman standing

before her. Reaching out, she grasped Jordan’s hand in her

own. “Let me ask you something. Was this morning when you

first thought you might have these feelings for me?”

Jordan appeared to be looking inside for an answer. After

a moment, she responded, “No. I’ve felt this way for a while,

but I first started to think I might be falling in love with you

the week of Jeremy’s party.”

“Was your realization sudden or did it kind of creep up

on you?”

“Kind of snuck up on me,” Jordan admitted.

“So, you’ve had a little time to think about it?” Mac

watched and waited. Jordan was smart enough to get her

point and Mac was sure she would get it quickly. She wasn’t

disappointed.

“You must think I’m crazy. I declare I’m in love with you,

and then run like a rabbit when you don’t instantly respond in

kind.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy. Maybe a little feverish.” Mac

smiled, hoping Jordan was feeling resilient enough to enjoy a

little levity.

Jordan grinned. “Maybe a little.” Fastening an earnest

look on her face, she asked, “Any chance I could interest you

in a little fever as well?”

Mac’s laugh faded into a blush as she realized Jordan’s

humor hid a serious question. Questions of her own flooded

her mind. Was Jordan in love with her? Could she, did she feel

the same way? How would her answer affect their friendship,

the most important and longest lasting friendship she’d ever

enjoyed?

A ringing phone interrupted her thoughts.

Jordan glanced at the caller ID and swore. “It’s my dad. I

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asked him to check on you. Chances are he’s at your house and

is wondering where the hell you are.” She lifted the receiver

and spoke into the phone. “Don’t worry. She came over here

to pick up some CDs. I’ll make sure she gets back shortly

We’re good for the rest of the week. Thanks for checking. I

owe you.”

“Jordan, why was your dad checking on me?”

“I thought after the way you reacted to my declaration,

you wouldn’t want to see me anytime soon. And, frankly, I

was pretty embarrassed.”

Mac hugged Jordan close. “I’m the last person you should

ever be embarrassed with. I love you with all my heart. Your

little announcement surprised me. I still haven’t had time to

process how I feel about it, but my first reaction was to run to

you, not away. Can you at least take that as a good sign?”

Jordan nodded.

“And can you give me a little time to think about how I

feel?”

“Yes, of course.” Jordan paused. “What should we do in

the meantime?”

“Look, I know it’s not fair to keep you hanging, but I need

a few days to think. Okay?” She was finding it hard to look

into Jordan’s imploring eyes, knowing she had the power, but

didn’t yet possess the resolve, to grant her best friend’s wish.

“Meantime, I think we should go on a date.”

“A date?” Jordan almost slapped herself in the head. All

those years of school and she could only speak in one-syllable

words. Mac must think she’d turned into a blithering idiot.

“You know, those occasions where two people meet and

attend dinner or the theater and get to know each other over

the course of a few hours.”

“I think a date is a great idea.” Well, at least she could

speak in complete sentences.

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“Great, Saturday night. Why don’t you pick me up at

seven?”

“Perfect.” At this point, Jordan only trusted herself with

small words and phrases. She allowed herself a silent ditty. I

have a date with Mackenzie, I have a date with Mackenzie!

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chapter nineteen

You didn’t have to ring the doorbell, you know.” Mac

waved her guest in, unable to keep her eyes from the

small, tasteful bouquet of flowers in Jordan’s grasp.

Following her gaze, Jordan offered the bouquet. “These

are for you. And, frankly it didn’t seem very date-like to use

my key.”

“Well, I suppose I need to be the good hostess then and

offer my date a drink while I finish the last touches of my look

for the night.”

Jordan’s gaze swept over her and her low whistle gave her

considered opinion about Mac’s look for the evening. Slim-

fitting black slacks hugged Mac’s well-toned legs, and a crisp

sleeveless white shirt offset the light sling she still wore for

her healing collarbone.

“If you think you can improve on what I’m seeing right

now, feel free, Mac. But I don’t think it’s possible. How about

I help myself to a drink while you take care of whatever you

think needs doing? There’s no need for us to pretend as if

we’ve never been to each other’s houses.”

Mac, blushing from Jordan’s compliment, seized on the

opportunity to catch her breath in the other room while Jordan

rifled through the bar.

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“Would it be very rude for me to drink the last of your

good Scotch on our first date?” Jordan called.

“A little, but if you hide the bottle in the back, I’m not

likely to notice for a while.” Ignoring her fast-beating heart,

Mac dabbed on a light coppery lip color and took one last look

in the mirror before she grabbed her purse, slung it over her

good shoulder, and went to the living room to rescue the last

of her Scotch.

“Are you starving,” Jordan asked, “or would you mind if

we made a quick stop before dinner?”

“Not starving, just some low rumbles from the beast

within. What did you have in mind?”

“I swear it won’t take long and then I promise you a great

dinner. I made a reservation at Abacus.”

“Fantastic. I promise I won’t turn dinner into a review.”

“I picked it because of their tasting menu. Don’t worry.

You’ll get the full experience without having to order one of

everything.”

Mac grinned as she realized how comfortable it was to be

with someone who knew her so well. Moments later, though,

her grin turned sour as she realized they were pulling into a

reserved spot in front of Sue Ellen’s. Maybe Jordan didn’t

know her so well after all. “Jordan, what are we doing here?”

“Quick stop. I promise. Please come inside with me for a

few minutes.”

Very romantic, Mac thought grumpily. She got all dressed

up to go into a smoky bar. It was barely even eight o’clock and

she needed to be ten years younger and slightly buzzed to feel

like she belonged here. A quick look at the wistful pleading

in Jordan’s eyes stopped the procession of thoughts and Mac

forced herself from the car.

“This isn’t what I envisioned for our date,” she said as she

slipped her hand into Jordan’s.

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It was too early for a cover charge. Once inside, Jordan

led her to one of the tables near the bar. Mac couldn’t help but

notice the attention Jordan attracted from the assortment of

women waiting for service. Despite the crowd, the tomboyish

bartender skipped over the waiting patrons and hurried over

to Jordan, leaning in to learn what her latest customer desired.

Watching the exchange, the subtle way the bartender angled

closer while offering returning whispers to Jordan, Mac felt

jealousy churning her insides. Had Jordan seriously brought

her to a bar to watch her flirt with other women? The bartender

placed two Coronas in front of Jordan and waved off her

attempt to pay before ducking out from under the bar and

heading back to the deejay booth. Mac quickly averted her

eyes as Jordan approached their table. She had no desire to let

her see any trace of the jealousy she was sure was etched in

the lines on her face.

Jordan held on to both beers and asked Mac to follow her

out onto the patio. They sat in wire mesh chairs. Unable to

restrain herself any longer, Mac opened her mouth to let loose

with some fierce questions about why they were spending their

first date at a bar.

Jordan beat her to the punch, asking, “Do you remember

the first time we came here?”

Caught off guard by the question, Mac paused, casting

back through some long-forgotten memories. “I sure do.”

Holding up her beer, she said, “Corona was all we drank back

then, but we had to sweet-talk some of the older dykes at the

bar into buying them for us.”

Jordan smiled. “That’s right. Do you remember the first

time, though?”

Something in the wistful look on her face made Mac dig

deep for the memory. As the remembrance washed over her,

she blushed. She had kissed Jordan right here on this patio,

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hours after they had ditched their homecoming dates, changed

clothes, and sneaked out to the bar.

“Ah, I think you’re remembering now.”

Mac expected another teasing grin, but instead she was

met with an intense gaze. Jordan’s eyes flashed with the spark

of desire and she leaned in close. “Mac, can we try that kiss

one more time?”

Mac answered with wordless lips. The first press of soft

flesh came with a flood of memories, real and imagined. The

first and, before now, only lover’s kiss they had shared had

been accompanied by surges of want and desire. Shortly after,

she’d dwelt on the feelings their first touch had evoked, longing

for more. Then came the sadness of unrequited desire. With

time, the feelings had faded and she’d adjusted to the idea that

she and Jordan would never be more than friends. Since then,

she’d resolved to find those feelings with someone else.

But she never had.

She’d come close, but the range and depth of feeling was

never quite the same. As she kissed Jordan now, she felt as if

their ardor was all encompassing. Nothing could keep them

apart. Their fast friendship, previously a limiting force, would

only serve to make their love invincible.

The break in the newfound closeness was abrupt. Mac

glanced up and caught Jordan grinning down at her. It wasn’t a

teasing grin, but a purely happy one. Mac smiled back. As they

stood staring at each other, she caught the notes of the song

playing and her grin grew wider. The deejay was spinning

eighties tunes, and this particular one brought up memories.

Though Whitney Houston was more likely to be heard crooning

in one of the boy bars down the street, Mac recalled every

deejay in town had been spinning her tunes when Whitney was

in her heyday. “How Will I Know” was certainly appropriate

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background music for her first real date with Jordan, and Mac

found herself mouthing the words.

“This song was playing the first time you kissed me,”

Jordan said.

Mac stopped tracing the lyrics and stared at her, marveling

at the revelation. “It was?” she asked, mentally kicking herself

for the inane reply.

Grinning, Jordan answered, “Yes. I remember everything

about that night. How you looked, what you said, how it felt to

kiss you. I didn’t know then what I know now.”

“What do you know now?”

“I know I can trust my feelings.”

“And what are your feelings telling you right now?”

“That, once again, we’re going to miss dinner at

Abacus.”

v

Jordan’s loft was closer. She drove quickly, her ability

to navigate impeded only by the urgent caresses of her frisky

passenger. As they rode the private elevator to the penthouse

loft, Jordan murmured soft thanks against Mac’s lips, grateful

the lift was reserved for her use alone. She had no idea how

long they remained in the car, writhing with want and need,

before finally Mac grasped her hand and led her into the loft.

Jordan glanced quickly around. Mac caught her eye and

smiled. “Looking to make sure you hung up your clothes?”

Sheepishly, Jordan replied, “Dear, you know me well

enough to know I would never leave clothes lying around.

Actually, I was thinking my place seems kind of cold and

uninviting compared to yours.”

Mac’s eyes swept the room and settled back on her.

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Drawing Jordan close with her good arm, she spoke softly.

“Your place is perfectly you. Sleek, solid, gorgeous. It

represents all the great facets of who you are. I wouldn’t

change a thing.”

Jordan melted. “It could be a bit warmer, though.”

Pulling Jordan closer, Mac traced her lips with her own,

delving deeper until their tongues were dancing with desire.

She slid her hand under Jordan’s shirt and palmed her back

before moving slowly to her front. Resting her hand on

Jordan’s bare breast, she stroked her already erect nipple and

looked her straight in the eye. “I’d say it’s getting quite a bit

warmer in here, don’t you think?” At Jordan’s nod, she added,

“How about you show me to the bed and we’ll see what we

can do to warm it up too.”

Jordan, realizing she was no longer in control of the

situation, obligingly followed Mac’s instruction and led her

to the platform bed in the corner of the room. She’d counted

on tonight being the first of several “dates,” a series of events

where she would court Mac and convince her to fall in love. She

had no idea Mac, who focused so much attention on romance,

would wind up in her bed on their first date. Temptation warred

with a cautious voice within, and Jordan held still the hand

unbuttoning her shirt. “Mac?”

“Yes?” Mac didn’t look up from where she was planting

gentle kisses along Jordan’s neck and earlobe.

“Hey, Mac, look at me.” Dreamy eyes glanced up at her

and Jordan resisted the urge to lose herself in the promise of

pleasure they delivered. “We don’t have to do this tonight. I

mean, if you’re not ready, we can wait. I want our first time to

be as romantic as your favorite love story.”

“Oh, honey, there isn’t a love story I’ve read that’s more

romantic than this.”

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Jordan’s surprise was genuine. “You don’t feel like having

sex with me on our first date is decidedly unromantic?”

“Jordan, what we’re about to do isn’t having sex, it’s

making love, which wouldn’t happen on most first dates. I

think, in our own way, we’ve been dating most of our lives,

waiting this long to be truly intimate with each other?”

Jordan grinned. “Wow, when you put it that way, we’re

long overdue.”

“Ah, the Jordan I know and love. Now, take off your clothes

and prepared to be ravished. I have quite a large collection

of erotica mixed in with the romance novels and I’ve been

waiting to try out some new moves on the right person.”

Pulling her shirt off, Jordan said, “I’m developing a new

fondness for your book collection.”

“Consider this a private reading.” Sitting directly across

from her, Mac traced her lips up Jordan’s bare abdomen, licking

her way to her taut and ready breasts. Circling one nipple with

flicks of her searching tongue, she stroked the other to aching

erectness. Jordan’s back arched as she thrust her chest willingly

into Mac’s loving embrace. With her arms around Mac’s back,

she loosened the sling and gently removed Mac’s shirt. Urging

her back down on the bed, she lowered herself until the tips

of their breasts lightly grazed one another. Holding herself

above Mac, she moved from side to side, reveling in the way

the gentle caress of the barest touch ignited sparks of pleasure

between them.

“Closer, come closer,” Mac urged.

“Have to be careful, dear. Your ribs are healing.”

Mac gasped. “Jordan, I want to feel you against me. I

could come right now.”

“Oh no, you don’t. I want to feel our first time.”

Jordan leaned across the bed and grabbed a silk-covered

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pillow. Propping it under Mac’s head, she lowered herself

slightly to kiss her swollen lips. Mac locked onto her, pulling

her closer, writhing beneath her, struggling for release. Gently

detaching herself, Jordan motioned her intentions and received

a hazy smile signaling assent. Turning, she settled her legs on

either side of Mac’s pillowed head and lowered herself into

her lover’s musky scent. Softly she traced Mac’s inner thighs,

enjoying the accompanying shocks and spasms she elicited

with her tongue. Soon she felt her own thighs twitching from

pleasure shocks and it became hard to tell whether the source

of the titillation was the touch she gave or received.

Basking in the power of their combined caress, they shifted

attention to each other’s cores in synchronicity. Their strokes

moved lightly at first, then with forceful measure as their

tongues teased then kneaded. As their pleasure and passion

mingled, the sum of the whole became too much for either to

contain. Their bucking bodies welcomed release while each

woman struggled to hold on for a moment more, lost in the

intimate touch craved for so long.

Release eventually won out and they surrendered to the

swath of pleasure cutting through their veins. Releasing cries

of consummated craving, they climaxed together.

v

“What day is it?”

Mac opened one eye at a time and turned her head toward

the sound of the voice beside her. It appeared the words came

from nothing more than a bundle of tousled red hair resting on

the pillow beside her. Beaming as she reflected on the night

before, she answered, “Pick a day, any day. It’s a good one.”

The rumpled red hair came to life as Jordan sat up

and stretched a greeting to the sun shining in the floor-to-

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ceiling windows lining her loft. Reaching for a switch on her

nightstand, she commanded the blinds to close.

Mac grunted. “Hey, what did you do that for? It’s a

beautiful sunny day outside.”

Leaning down to kiss Mac good morning, Jordan replied,

“Honey, don’t you think we gave enough of a show last

night?”

“A little like closing the barn door after the horse’s been

stolen.”

“Only one free show for the crowd. I have plans for you

this morning and I have no desire to share them with anyone

who might be pleasure-seeking outside these windows.”

“Fair enough.” Mac returned her kiss. “Back to my

original question, what day is it?”

“It’s Sunday, dear. Why, you have a hot date?”

“I absolutely have a hot date and I’m in bed with her

now.” Mac snuggled in close to Jordan’s naked body, enjoying

the warmth of her lover’s touch and dreading the information

she was about to relay. “I invited the gang to brunch today.”

“Gee, I haven’t been to the grocery in days. I haven’t a

clue what we’ll serve.”

Mac poked Jordan in the side. “You know I meant the

restaurant, silly. They’ll be there at eleven.”

Checking the bedside clock, Jordan said, “It’s ten now. If

you call now, you can probably catch them before they head

out.” Catching the look on Mac’s face, she paused. “Ah, you

want to go, don’t you?”

“A little.”

“You aren’t feeling strange about last night, are you?”

Mac, puzzled at first, quickly realized she needed to explain

lest Jordan jump to the wrong conclusions. Drawing her close,

she whispered, “I feel lots of things about last night—loved,

satisfied, and excited, among others. Strange isn’t on the list.

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As much as I don’t want to put on clothes and share this time

with anyone else, I want to go. Partly because I promised them

I would be there, but mostly because I want them to know

about us, unless you don’t want them to know.”

Jordan’s laugh conveyed her relief at knowing Mac didn’t

regret their newfound intimacy. “You will not rest until you

flush my reputation as a playgirl. I should have known you

were out to get me from the start.”

Mac smacked her with a pillow. “I don’t think you need

to worry about your reputation. You can still be a playgirl, but

all your playing will be with me. If last night is any indication,

you have enough play in you to keep us frisky for a lifetime.”

“Don’t you forget it. Now, if we’re going to make brunch,

we better hustle.” Jordan stood at the edge of the bed giving her

a wicked smile. “We only have one hour and one shower.”

v

“Well, Mac, I guess you won’t have as much need for the

romance in these pages anymore.” Haley picked up a book

from the collection under Mac’s chair.

Jordan interrupted Mac’s response with a question. “You

know, while you were laid up, I started reading the novel

you’ve been reading. What’s it called?”

“Lost Lives, Lost Loves.”

“Right. Well, I must say it didn’t seem very romantic

to me. Great lovemaking scenes, but it seemed like the two

main characters weren’t going to stay together. Irreconcilable

differences.”

“They’ll get together,” Mac said confidently.

“Seriously, I don’t think so.”

“They’ll not only get together, they’ll live happily ever

after.”

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Jordan shook her head. “I don’t see it.”

“Honey, it’s a romance. The main characters always get

together. If they didn’t, it wouldn’t be a romance.”

“It’s that easy?”

“Oh, it’s not always easy, but it’s always inevitable.”

“Wanna be main characters with me?” Jordan asked with

a grin.

Mac smiled. “Oh, sweetheart, we’ve been each other’s

main characters for a very long time.”

“Then I guess we all know how this story ends,” Jordan

concluded. She punctuated the remark with a passionate kiss.

As their lips sealed the promise of love, Mac stared into

her best friend’s eyes and saw the woman she’d been looking

for all along. Her future wife.

• 199 •

about the author

Carsen Taite is an avid reader and writer of lesbian fiction.

Carsen works by day (and sometimes 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 her

goal as an author is to spin tales with plot lines as interesting

as the true, but often unbelievable, stories she encounters in

her law practice.

Carsen is married (Canadian-style) and she and her spouse live

near White Rock Lake in Dallas, where they enjoy cycling and

walking the trails with their fuzzy beasts.

Her upcoming titles include It Should Be a Crime, coming

from BSB in 2009. For info check www.carsentaite.com.

Table of Contents

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter Four

chapter Five

chapter six

chapter seven

chapter eight

chapter nine

chapter ten

chapter eleven

chapter twelve

chapter thirteen

chapter Fourteen

chapter FiFteen

chapter sixteen

chapter seventeen

chapter eighteen

chapter nineteen