by Kate Steele
“Think about this for a minute,” Gabriel said, warming to the subject. “What do you miss about having a woman in your life—and don’t bring sex into it,” Gabriel ordered with a smile.
Dillon hugged him hard. “I don’t need to. No one’s ever satisfied me like you do.”
“Same here,” Gabriel replied, returning the hug. “Now think about the question.”
Dillon affected a serious expression, which earned him a poke in the ribs from Gabriel. “Be serious,” Gabriel chided.
“All right,” Dillon agreed. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “What I miss most about having a woman in my life is the gentleness and softness. I don’t mean physically. It’s more like an aura women possess, no matter how tough or businesslike they are. I guess it’s that whole unexplainable feminine mystique. Women evoke excitement, yet they’re also restful. You and I can be gentle and tender with each other, but when you receive tenderness from a woman, it has a different feel to it.” He paused for a moment before going on. “I also miss feeling the need to protect. Probably something that stems from the primal caveman urges women are always accusing us of having. Though I’d protect you with my life, at the same time, I know you really don’t need my protection. Does any of this make sense?”
“It makes perfect sense, because I feel the same. We both want a soothing, feminine influence in our lives that gentles us, yet at the same time feeds our masculinity. It’s like I’ve always said, it’s easy to say this person is gay or this person is straight, but there are an infinite number of spaces between those absolutes. People and their needs range from one end of the spectrum to the other. Why do we have to be limited to one or the other? It’s just not as simple as a lot of people want to think it is.”
“Well, you and I must fall somewhere in the middle, because we love each other but we also want a woman in our lives.”
“That’s pretty democratic of us, I’d say,” Gabriel answered with a grin and flopped back down on the bed. “I should go get a washcloth and clean us up, but I’m beat.”
“I’ll do it,” Dillon groused as he rolled out of bed.
By the time he returned, Gabriel was dozing. He gently washed him with the warm cloth, returned to the bathroom where he cleaned himself, then crawled back on the bed. Though it was just late afternoon, he figured they deserved a nap and settled next to Gabriel with a sigh.
“Thanks, babe,” Gabriel mumbled.
“Welcome,” Dillon answered and rolled to his side, throwing an arm over Gabriel’s chest before drifting to sleep.
* * * * *
Layne hurried down the street, anxious to reach the security of her Aunt Sylvie’s store, In The Stars. She glanced back several times and breathed a sigh of relief as she got closer to her goal. Dillon had not attempted to stop her, nor had he followed her.
She entered the store, slowed her pace and slipped behind the counter where Sylvie waited on a customer. Feeling safe at last, she tried to relax, but her body still hummed from the pleasure Dillon’s touch had imparted. And though the physical pleasure remained, the shock of his declaration twisted her stomach and sent pain slashing though her heart. Why would he be so cruel as to taunt her in such a way?
“You’re back sooner than I expected. Are you all right, dear? You look flushed.”
Layne restrained herself from touching her reddened cheeks and instead settled for brushing back the long thick braid that confined her chestnut hair. “I’m fine. I was just anxious to get back.”
Sylvie smiled. “Well, I’m glad you enjoy working here, Layne, but don’t cheat yourself on your breaks. Shopkeeping can get quite tedious at times.”
“Not here. Not when you allow me to read books if there’s nothing that needs to be done.”
“Well, it makes no sense to stand around twiddling your thumbs when things are slow. You might as well enjoy yourself, I always say.”
“Thank goodness for your philosophy. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it,” Layne replied sincerely.
For the past several months Layne had been working for her Aunt Sylvie and loving every minute of it. Sylvie was deeply into astrology and her shop catered to those with similar passions. In addition to the jewelry, key chains and other items that bore the various symbols of the zodiac, she sold art posters and figurines, as well as candles and essential oils. The store always smelled wonderful, fresh and exotic.
Sylvie also did astrological charts, and though Layne didn’t follow her daily horoscope, it still fascinated her how accurately the signs pinpointed certain personality traits. The shop was empty of customers for the moment, but Layne knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Sylvie had a nice shop. The beautiful merchandise brought in many a repeat customer.
Still thinking of Dillon, Layne toyed with some charms on a display rack then unable to help herself, blurted out, “Sylvie, do you know Dillon Satterfield?”
She felt her cheeks begin to heat again, just from saying his name. She was worried that Sylvie would notice the blush, but much to her relief, she was occupied with rearranging some items in the glass counter case.
“Dillon? Yes, of course, dear. We shop owners all know each other, if for no other reason than we all belong to the Chamber of Commerce.”
“Would you say he’s prone to being cruel or likes to play practical jokes?”
“Oh no, not Dillon, he’s a very nice young man. I’ve known him for several years. I’ve never heard anyone say a bad word about him. Taureans have a fine sense of humor, but they’re never cruel with it. You know, being born a Taurus means he’s also strong, solid and reliable, not to mention sensual, possessive and loyal to a fault when it comes to his mate. I’ve heard that Taureans can be quite, um, exhausting as lovers,” Sylvie hinted. “And he’s handsome as the devil.” Sylvie looked up at Layne. “You know, as a Pisces, you and he would be a very good match. Or you and his partner Gabriel for that matter—he’s a Cancer, you know.”
Layne shook her head and grimaced. “No, I didn’t know, but that hardly matters. They’re both entirely too gorgeous for me.”
Sylvie straightened. “Nonsense! There you go with that Piscean insecurity and low self-esteem. You’re a lovely girl, Layne, any man would be lucky to have you.”
“I’m fat.”
“That is ridiculous. You, my dear, are what is known as voluptuous. Believe it or not, there are actually men out there who like their women shapely and not skeletal. You have curves in all the right places and the kind of breasts any man would love to get his hands on.”
“Aunt Sylvie!” Layne shouted, instantly blushing crimson.
“I call ‘em like I see ‘em, kid.” Sylvie laughed.
“Well, no one could ever accuse you of being mealy-mouthed.”
“Damn right!”
* * * * *
The next afternoon, Layne was manning the store herself for the final few hours before closing. Sylvie had left early to prepare for an evening of cards and gossip with her favorite cronies.
Last evening she’d spent hours mulling over the incident with Dillon. Despite the pleasure she’d felt at his kiss, the fleeting episode brought back memories that left her in tears.
During her school years she’d been shy and overweight, an awkward teenager who suffered constant taunts from students too uncaring to think about what their careless words were doing to her. Although she had a few friends and spent some happy times with them, there were often times when she retreated inside herself, wallowing in self-pity and self-loathing until she cried with the anguish that filled her.
Teenage boys filled her with dread—some of them excelled in their ability to be cruel, and her fear of males stayed with her long after high school was over. Even though she’d lost weight, she still suffered from the lack of confidence her experiences as an unhappy teenager had bestowed upon her.
But she put those unhappy thoughts behind her as she waited on a pair of enthusiastic and happy shoppers. After a time they depa
rted, heavily laden with several bags filled with their purchases. As they walked out, a delivery man walked in with a vase of flowers.
“Layne Weston?” he asked, smiling.
“Yes?”
“These are for you,” he said, setting the vase down on the counter.
It was a beautiful bouquet consisting of mostly red and white roses, green fern fronds and some other small accent flowers of different colors.
Layne gazed at it in wonder. No one had ever sent her flowers before. “Are you sure?” she asked doubtfully.
“Yep,” he confirmed, heading for the door. “There’s a card.”
She found the small white envelope nestled among the roses and pulled it from the plastic clip that held it.
Dearest Layne, she read silently, Please forgive the abrupt manner of my declaration. Yours, Dillon.
“Mine? Not hardly,” she scoffed aloud.
It hadn’t escaped her notice that he’d apologized for his abrupt manner but not for the declaration itself.
“He can’t be serious,” she muttered.
At that moment the bell over the door rang, announcing another customer. “May I…” she began, and suddenly stopped as her stomach did a somersault.
Gabriel Montgomery walked toward her carrying a flat, wrapped parcel, a heart-stopping smile on his face. Her first thought was that she was about to be warned away by a jealous lover, a thought so ludicrous she was hard-pressed not to smile. But Gabriel wasn’t looking particularly unhappy, so she figured that couldn’t be why he was here.
“You certainly may. Anything you like,” Gabriel teased, answering her half-formed question. His golden eyes danced with good humor.
“Hello, Mr. Montgomery. If you’re looking for my aunt, she left early today.”
Gabriel’s smile dimmed. “So formal, Layne? Won’t you call me Gabriel?”
Layne bit her lip, an action that drew Gabriel’s intense regard, and she felt herself begin to blush. “All right,” she agreed shyly.
“All right, Gabriel,” he encouraged.
“All right, Gabriel,” she complied, her cheeks flaming as he smiled at her with approval shining in his eyes.
“I see Dillon’s flowers have arrived,” he commented, leaning down to smell the bouquet. “He picked them out himself, you know. He was disgusted with himself for frightening you. May I tell him that all is forgiven?”
Layne gave him a doubtful look. “I’m not sure,” she answered hesitantly.
Gabriel gave her a look of understanding. “Would you give me a chance to help you come to a decision?” He looked at his watch. “It’s seven, are you closing the store now?”
Layne nodded an affirmative.
“In that case, how about you let me treat you to a cup of coffee or something at the café? Maybe I can clear things up a bit.”
Curiosity outweighed caution, so Layne agreed. After locking up, they walked to the café, got their drinks and settled at an outside table under the awning.
Gabriel took a few sips from his cup. His next words were totally unexpected. “Dillon and I miss seeing you come into the gallery. Why did you stop?” he asked gently, the barest hint of hurt in his voice.
Surprised and embarrassed, Layne looked away and out across the street, avoiding his questioning gaze. “I’ve been kind of busy lately,” she hedged.
“Please, Layne, the truth?”
She looked up into his eyes seeing his sincere need to know. She swallowed hard. “I was scared,” she admitted softly.
“Because Dillon and I took an interest in you?”
Silently, she nodded.
“Don’t you like us?” he asked simply.
Layne was struck by how childlike and open the question was. “It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s just that…” She looked down at the table and fiddled with her cup. “I don’t know why you would like me. I get nervous and tongue-tied around both of you and I can’t think of anything to say, which makes me feel like a total idiot. There’s nothing special about me, especially not my looks.” She took a deep breath. “When Dillon said what he said…I… Well, I thought he was playing a joke on me,” she completed in a rush, her eyes again fixed on the table to hide the hurt and shame revealed by her confession.
“Oh, Laynie, sweetheart, don’t say that,” Gabriel ordered gently. “Don’t ever say that, don’t even think it. Dillon would never be so cruel. He thinks you’re very special. Both of us do.”
Layne looked up, stunned by his quiet vehemence. Embarrassed and wanting to steer the conversation away from herself she asked, “Could we talk about something else? You said you had something to tell me.”
Gabriel sighed. “I see even Pisceans have a practical side.” Before Layne could ask how he knew her sign, he went on. “Dillon and I are lovers, but then, you know that.”
Layne nodded gravely, her interest totally captured by this unexpected beginning.
“It’s funny, but before we met, neither of us had ever been with another man, only women. I guess if I had to use one of society’s labels we’d be called bisexual. Although neither of us has been interested in any other men. I don’t know. Anyway, the thing is, as great as our love for each other is, we both feel that there’s something missing in our relationship. A feminine influence, I guess you could say,” Gabriel explained. “We agreed that if we ever met a woman who drew our interest, we would…um, try to make her a part of our lives. That’s where you come in.”
“Me?” Layne asked incredulously. “Why me?”
“Laynie, if you could only see yourself the way we do, you wouldn’t need to ask that question,” Gabriel told her gently. “So what I’m here to ask is, will you give us a chance? I promise we won’t rush you into anything. Get to know us, really know us, and give us a chance to really know you. Would you, Layne, please?”
Layne stared at Gabriel, her doubts and fears easily visible in her eyes. “This is just so strange, I… Could I think about it for a while?”
Gabriel gave her a reassuring smile. “Of course you can. Remember, I said we won’t rush you. And in the meantime, I have something for you. Maybe it’ll help you decide,” he said almost shyly, handing her the flat parcel he’d carried in with him.
With a slight frown she took the package and carefully opened it. Inside was an oil painting. Sitting back to back, their faces turned toward the artist, Dillon and Gabriel smiled back at her. They were pictured from the waist up, both shirtless and both displaying the breathtaking beauty of two lean, sleek and oh-so muscular males in their prime.
A gentle “oh” slid past her lips as she studied the small painting. It was beautifully rendered and captured each man’s likeness to perfection, including Dillon’s sultry eyes and Gabriel’s gentle good humor. In the corner were the initials GLM.
“GLM. Did you paint this?” she asked, her voice filled with wonder.
Smiling, he nodded.
“Gabriel, this is beautiful. Thank you so much! I’m totally amazed. Why aren’t you showing your work in the gallery?”
“Well, I am now. You’ve just not been there to see it,” he added grumpily.
Layne grinned, her enthusiasm overshadowing her shyness. “I’ll come by. I promise. I want to see what else you’ve done.”
“Excellent!” he enthused. “Then maybe I can talk you into posing for me.”
Layne raised a doubting eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”
Gabriel laughed and looked at his watch. “We’ll talk about it later, for now I have to get going. There’s a talented young artist whose work we’re planning to show. We have a meeting with him in half an hour.” He rose and walked around the table. “Thank you, Layne,” he said simply and kissed her on the cheek. “You know, I’m jealous. Dillon got a real kiss from you,” he whispered in her ear.
As a shiver slid down her spine from the warmth of his breath against her ear, Layne impulsively turned her head and kissed him softly on the lips.
Gabriel’s golden eyes
warmed with his smile. He reached up and brushed his fingers across her cheek. “You are such a contradiction. Afraid one minute and bold the next. I can’t wait to get to know you better.” Before Layne could say that she’d yet to make up her mind, he continued. “Do you have a full-length mirror at home?”
Layne frowned in confusion at the question, but nodded.
“Do something for me this evening, sweetheart. I want you stand in front of that mirror, totally nude, with your hair undone and falling around you. Then I want you to look at yourself—truly look at yourself, Layne. I want you to see just a small part of the beauty that Dillon and I see. Not only on the outside but on the inside.”
He bent to her, his lips moving over hers, the kiss slowly heating until Layne felt her toes curl. Breaking the kiss, he cupped her cheek and ran his thumb over her full bottom lip. “Dillon was right, you do taste sweet,” he whispered and walked away.
Layne slumped back in her chair, waiting for the wild rush of emotion that swamped her to calm. Waiting until she was sure her knees wouldn’t buckle. After a few long moments, she stood, picked up the painting and made her way back to the shop.
Her apartment was over the store, her aunt having opted to remain in her own house when she bought the building. It was a cozy place with a large combination kitchen-living room, a single bedroom and a nice-sized bathroom. Her tastes were simple, the furnishings comfortable and the colors neutral, with bold splashes of color in the form of a deep orange throw rug in front of the sofa and a large, colorful quilted wall hanging that covered a good part of one wall.
After fixing a simple meal of salad and baked chicken, she took the painting Gabriel gave her to her bedroom and set it up on her dresser. She gave it her rapt attention for a time, not thinking about anything but the colors that swirled and blended and the strokes of the brush that created light and shadow.
Laying aside her inhibitions in the privacy of her room, she began to remove her clothes. Languidly, she dropped each piece on the bed until she was naked. She pulled her braid forward over her shoulder and released the end, dreamily unwinding the long, thick strands until it hung free. Running her fingers through her hair, she shook it to loosen the heavy mass and turned from the painting to look at herself in the mirror.
