Leslie felt her own cheeks heat. “No. Erica and I are friends.” She sounded flustered. She calmed herself. “We’re just friends.”
“Oh! I’m sorry,” Trent said sincerely, but he didn’t look convinced. “It seemed last night…the way she looked at you when she first saw you. She used to look at me that way eons ago. And she trusts you so much with Siena…I just thought.” He shrugged.
The way she looked at me? Leslie had been too caught up in trying to determine what was going on to notice. She did remember how Erica had looked at her in the kitchen when she’d sucked the frosting off Erica’s fingers—and how she’d looked at Erica.
“Maybe what I saw was gratitude for you being there and knowing what to do.” Trent seemed to be backpedaling, trying to leave his comments in such a way that Erica wouldn’t kill him. “It’s too bad, though. I think you’d be really good for her. I know in the past she’s felt alone in dealing with Siena—no thanks to me. You obviously help her with that.” He suddenly found something fascinating in his coffee cup.
Before Leslie could think of anything else to say, Siena and Gus appeared in the gateway.
“Hey there, what are you two up to?” Leslie called, thankful for anything to get them off the previous subject.
“We can’t find a ball,” Siena said without a glance at Trent. It was like he wasn’t there.
He didn’t seem to notice.
“Hold on.” Leslie rose and retrieved an orange one from the box of dog toys near the back door. “Here you go.” She threw it across the grass and chuckled as Gus ran after it mindlessly.
She and Trent watched as the two began to play.
“You want to start now?” Leslie asked him.
“Start what?”
Leslie tipped her head toward Siena. “Getting to know your daughter?”
Trent’s eyes widened. “Now?”
“Come on, I’ll help. Start a conversation,” Leslie said encouragingly. “Ask her something.”
Trent shifted his gaze to Siena, then back to Leslie, then to Siena again. “Hey, Siena, where’s your mom and Cynthia?”
Leslie rolled her eyes. “Not that.”
“I don’t know,” Siena said, not turning around.
“Something to do with her,” Leslie said quietly. “Say something about her shoes. She loves them.”
Trent took a deep breath. “I like your shoes,” he called to her.
Siena stopped in mid-throw and turned to him, her expression puzzled. “They light up,” she said cautiously.
Gus danced around her, obviously eager for the game to continue.
Leslie ducked her head. “Ask if you can see them,” she said into her hand.
“Really?” Trent said, improvising. “Will you show me?”
Siena crossed the grass to where they sat, lifted one foot, then stomped it down on the deck. She smiled at the flash of light. She repeated the motion with her other foot. “See?”
“That’s great.” Trent sounded entirely out of his element, but he was trying.
“And it looks cooler in the dark,” Siena said.
“I’ll bet it does. Maybe you can show me tonight.” Trent’s suggestion seemed genuine. He shifted in his seat.
“Okay. I’ll show you my crystal that glows in the dark, too.” Siena turned and threw the ball. “My mom and I grew it from a kit I got for my birthday last year. I didn’t know you could grow a crystal, especially one that glows in the dark. It was the best birthday I ever had.”
Leslie smiled at Siena’s enthusiasm. It reminded her of the first day she’d met Siena and the conversation about poop and vomit. She watched Trent.
He seemed to be relaxing a bit more.
Gus returned with the ball and tried to give it to Siena. When she paid no attention, still talking about birthdays and how for her next one she wanted a bigger kit to grow a ginormous crystal, he dropped the ball at Leslie’s feet.
She, in turn, slipped it to Trent.
Within seconds, he’d thrown it and had become a part of the play. By the time Erica and Cynthia showed up at the gate, he still appeared a little stiff but was holding his own.
Cynthia laughed and joined in on the game.
Erica stood, her mouth hanging open, watching. After a few minutes, she looked at Leslie. As she approached, her smile grew wider. She stepped up onto the deck. “How the hell did you pull that off?”
“Pull what off?” Leslie asked innocently.
Erica moved beside her and stared out at the game going on in the yard. Her expression was one of wonder. “Trent’s never played with Siena before. I mean, yes, when she was six months old, he might have jangled his keys at her to keep her quiet, but never like this.”
Siena squealed as Gus raced past her with the ball, making her chase him. Trent made a grab for him but missed.
“Did you talk to him?” Erica cut Leslie a sidelong glance.
“We chatted.” Leslie kept her focus on the activity in the yard, but she could see Erica in her peripheral vision. The feel of their bodies spooned together all night rushed back in on her.
“Did he tell you they’re thinking about moving to Los Angeles?”
Leslie looked at Erica. “They are?”
Erica nodded. “After the wedding. Trent’s been offered a position with a recording studio here.” She was smiling, her expression reflective as she continued watching the game. “That could be so good for Siena.”
Leslie’s wariness from earlier, her fear, the pain of losing Elijah to the change in Cassie’s life, hit her hard. She folded her arms, clamping them around her middle. “He’s not as bad a guy as I thought he was,” she said, hoping it was true. “His desire to get to know Siena and understand her seems genuine.”
Erica studied her for a long moment, then found Leslie’s hands and unfolded her arms. “And it won’t change what you have with Siena. I promise.” Her voice was gentle and reassuring.
Reluctantly, Leslie met her gaze. She wanted to believe her. She had to. She couldn’t imagine going through that again. But all she could manage was a single nod.
Erica moved close and brushed her lips across Leslie’s cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For talking to him.”
And without warning, Leslie was once again reliving the night before, her body heating, her emotions swirling and churning. She couldn’t take it, this fluctuation between all these intense feelings. I have to get out of here. She squeezed Erica’s fingers, then moved away.
The kiss had been soft, affectionate, sincerely grateful. It was a kiss she’d received from Paula many times, from her mother years ago. She could picture Erica kissing Becky that way, and yet, the kiss set every single cell in Leslie’s entire body ablaze with desire. Suddenly, the yoga, the meditation, the shower massage…everything she’d done to calm her body was out the window. She might as well be back in Erica’s bed, pressed up against her. She had to go. “I told Nell I’d come over and help her with some stuff today,” she managed the lie. “Gus seems to be having a good time. Can he stay with you?”
“Of course.” The blue of Erica’s eyes was several shades darker with emotion. Questions swam in its depths. No doubt she wanted the details of Leslie and Trent’s conversation, wanted to know what Trent had asked her.
But Leslie couldn’t do that now. All she could do was grab her laptop, her keys, and get the hell out of there. At Nell and Paula’s, she could work, or maybe there was still cleanup to be done from the carnival, or a movie they could go to.
Anything to keep her from imagining everything she wanted to do to her friend Erica.
Chapter Fifteen
Erica sat in her car, in the dark, down the street from her house—from Leslie’s house. This hadn’t been her plan for the evening, this stalkerish behavior. She wasn’t stalking, though. She was thinking, trying to figure out how she’d made such a mess.
Hadn’t her reasoning for not acting on her attraction to Leslie from the beginning been to avoid ending
up where she sat right now? And she hadn’t acted on it. She’d behaved herself so as not to make the situation awkward, not to blur the lines and confuse the issues between friendship and something else, not to endanger Siena’s connection with Leslie. Yet here she sat, feeling awkward, blurred, and confused—and without getting to actually have sex with Leslie. She sighed in the darkness. At least Siena and Leslie’s relationship was intact.
The week had been frustrating. Erica’s emotions had been in chaos, ever since the previous Saturday night when she’d arrived home to find Trent and his new fiancé camped out in her living room. Or maybe it was since Leslie had appeared at the exact right moment, with the exact right thing to do and say, as always. No, it’d started before both. It was in that moment earlier that same day, when Leslie had sucked chocolate icing off Erica’s fingers and turned her insides to liquid fire. Erica hadn’t been able to hold her focus on anything since, and here it was, the following Friday.
She kept trying to figure out what had actually happened Saturday night. She’d come home. She’d gotten mad at Trent. Leslie had shown up and taken Siena upstairs so Erica could deal with Trent and Cynthia. The next thing she knew, she was crying in Leslie’s arms. How did that happen? Stranger still, was the moment she’d heard the words, “I don’t want you to go…I just want to be with you…I only need this one night,” then realized she was the one saying them. And in that moment they’d felt completely right. And when Leslie had rounded the end of the bed and crawled in next to her, when she’d snuggled up behind Erica and taken her in her arms, Erica, for the first time in her life, knew she was exactly where she belonged.
Her mortification and fear hadn’t set in until the next morning, when she’d thought back on the evening. She, Erica Cooper, award-winning journalist, competent college professor, independent and self-sufficient single mom of a special needs child, had crumpled like a rag doll low on stuffing in the face of…what? Her ex-husband showing up? That’s not all that earth-shattering. The fact that he was engaged? Who cares? She wished them well. That Trent had upset Siena? Square hamburger patties upset Siena. Life goes on. Siena was fine.
Somewhere in the night, though, everything had changed. Like when you go to sleep having wound the cord of your ear buds into a neat, round little circle, but when you wake up, it’s a snarled mess, somehow Erica’s feelings of all that rightness and belonging had gotten twisted and knotted up with beliefs that she needed to handle everything on her own. That she shouldn’t need—or even want—anyone’s help. That she couldn’t let herself get used to that, because it wouldn’t last.
Then there was the sex, or rather, the wanting of it and the lack thereof. Erica couldn’t even think anymore when she was around Leslie. Since Trent and Cynthia had left on Tuesday and the distraction they’d provided had gone with them, Erica had found herself daydreaming in the middle of a class about the feel of Leslie wrapped around her and the softness of her lips as she’d sucked Erica’s fingers. Erica could still feel the brush of Leslie’s hand on the back of her bare thigh that night on the balcony, when Leslie had covered her with a blanket. And once Erica started into those thoughts, one thing led to another, and…Hell! Who was she kidding? She wasn’t having daydreams. She’d found herself in the middle of an all-out fantasy the previous afternoon while sitting in the classroom monitoring a test. How could she possibly sort out her feelings and thoughts and beliefs that were all so intertwined with one another and figure out what the hell she was truly feeling when all she could think about was ripping off Leslie’s clothes and fucking her?
That’s when she’d gotten her idea for tonight. If she could satisfy her sexual needs, she could then focus on the rest. It’d been a long time since she’d slept with anyone. Maybe it wasn’t entirely a desire for Leslie. Maybe a good, decadent roll in the hay with someone else would suffice. Enter, Kathleen Duvall.
Erica had met Kathleen through mutual acquaintances shortly after she and Siena had moved to California. Kathleen was like Erica in that she was busy, content with her life as it was, and had reasons for not wanting emotional ties, yet enjoyed the pleasures and conveniences of having a familiar sex partner. They’d slept together periodically, as well as served as dates for one another for professional or community events. Then Kathleen’s work had taken her to Europe for two years. She’d called Erica a few times since she’d been back, but getting together hadn’t worked out. Until tonight.
They’d decided to meet for dinner to catch up on each other’s lives and go from there. It’d taken Erica all of fifteen minutes to realize it wasn’t just sex she wanted. It was sex with Leslie. So here she was, sitting alone in the dark after gently but firmly turning Kathleen down. Shit! Maybe if she and Leslie talked, reestablished their agreement. It’d made all the difference in the world the last time they’d had a completely honest conversation. Surely, it would again.
Erica steeled herself and started her engine, then reconsidered. If she drove the short distance and pulled into her driveway, Rachel would hear, and Erica didn’t want her to leave yet. She wanted someone with Siena so she and Leslie could relax and talk. She turned off the car and climbed out.
It felt strange to go to Leslie’s front entrance, so she went around to the back. She knocked softly on the French doors, then waited. A dim light from the living room spilled from the archway into the family room, but there was no shadowy movement and no sound. And no Gus. Maybe Leslie wasn’t home. Maybe she’d had a date tonight as well. She thought of Molly the previous weekend and how she’d touched Leslie, her interest so obvious. Jealousy uncoiled in her stomach and reared its ugly head at the image. She stomped it down. Uncalled for. I don’t have any claim. How much longer could she pretend she didn’t want one? She knocked again.
Still nothing.
She turned the knob and opened the door. In the stillness, she heard the tapping of typing on a keyboard from the living room. She moved to the doorway and stopped.
Leslie sat at her computer in the corner of the jungle, Kaa offering his assistance from over head. Full headphones covered her ears, and she was absorbed in the images on her screen.
Erica didn’t want to startle her, so she waited, leaning against the jamb, and studied her. She wondered what Leslie was listening to, if it was classic rock Erica knew she liked, or something softer, more conducive to her creative process.
Leslie’s long, slender fingers danced over the computer keys, as though she were playing a piano with the skill and artistry of a maestro. The muscles of her face were soft, relaxed rather than contorted, and in her concentration, her eyelids were half closed. She wore a loose-fitting, finely knit sweater—cashmere perhaps—the chocolate shade making her olive skin glow and the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, revealing the delicate ropes of muscle beneath the smooth flesh of her forearms. Jeans covered her lower half, tapering to the exquisitely feminine lines of her bare ankles and feet. God, she’s tempting.
Without warning, Leslie turned her head, her eyes going wide at the sight of Erica. She gasped and slapped her hand to her chest. She pulled off the headphones. “Jeez. You scared me.”
Erica smiled. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure how not to, since you didn’t hear me knock.”
Leslie considered her, swiveling her chair to face her. “What are you doing, standing there, looking…” She ran her gaze down Erica’s body, then more slowly, back up in evident appreciation. “Like that.”
In all of her emotional and mental turmoil, Erica had forgotten how she’d dressed for her…date? Rendezvous? Booty call? Her dress wasn’t fancy, a rich dark purple with simple lines, but its halter neckline that dipped low to reveal ample cleavage and its hemline, not slutty but definitely suggestive, made it sexy as hell. “Like what?” She tried for innocence, but couldn’t keep one corner of her mouth from lifting, giving herself away.
A blush darkened Leslie’s cheeks, but she looked anything but embarrassed. Her eyes held her answer in their heated depths—like you want
to be fucked.
And oh, sweet mother of God, she did. Now that she was here, it was all she wanted.
“I thought you had plans with Kathleen tonight,” Leslie said.
Leslie’s words snapped Erica back from her narrowly-focused reverie. Kathleen? How does she…? The coloring books and box of crayons on the edge of the desk caught her attention. Of course. Siena had been over. And of course, she’d told Leslie why Rachel was watching her. Siena told Leslie everything. She might have to be more careful about what she said in front of her. Erica gathered her thoughts. “I did.”
“It’s kind of early to be home from a date.” Leslie sounded casual. There was something in her tone, though, that hinted otherwise.
Is she fishing? “It wasn’t a date,” Erica said, not wanting to admit the truth but knowing she had to. “Kathleen is more of a…” She couldn’t make herself say fuck buddy. That was too crude for anywhere other than in her head. A pillow pal? That’s just sappy. “A friend with benefits,” she said. Not exactly accurate. Erica had never thought of Kathleen as a friend. No, Kathleen had always been pure benefits.
Leslie turned her attention to her computer monitor. “That explains the dress,” she said, studying the screen. “Friends with benefits are nice to have sometimes.” She moved the mouse, then tapped the keyboard.
Erica watched her.
Leslie seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden, as though she was trying to escape into the world of whatever website she was building.
Erica walked slowly to where she sat. “It used to be,” she said, wondering what had changed, but deep down she knew. “It used to work very well, but it seems that’s over.”
After a beat, Leslie lifted her gaze to Erica. “Why is that?”
Erica met Leslie’s eyes. The question was only three simple words—and the answer just as short. Because of you. The meaning of the two together, though, opened up a huge cavern of possibilities, some of which, Erica didn’t know if she was ready for. What she did know, though, was that she couldn’t stay where they were. Her heart began to pound with a blend of anxiety and excitement. “Because when I was sitting across from her in the restaurant, listening to her talk about life in Barcelona, all I could think about was you.”
A Wish Upon a Star Page 21
