by Radclyffe
“Not anything you have to say,” Gina said.
Just teasing, doesn’t mean a thing. Carrie’s thoughts tumbled around like loose change in a washing machine, jangling inside her head and making too much noise for her to keep control of the conversation. Why did that happen every time she was in Gina Antonelli’s vicinity?
“Carrie?”
She even liked the way Gina said her name. “I’m here. Sorry. Anyhow. I thought you’d want to know we’re making some progress.”
“Does that mean we’re ready to start digging?”
Carrie sighed. “Not exactly, but I finally connected with the person we need on this at the county, and he assured me he’s going to be making calls and pushing things through as fast as possible.”
“Uh-huh.” Gina sounded underenthused. “I don’t have a lot of faith in people who push paper.”
“Hey. I push a lot of paper myself.”
“I bet you don’t. I bet you just dispatch problems with a wave of your hand, the magician behind the curtain.”
Carrie laughed. “I wish.”
“What time is it?” Gina said.
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
“Nine forty-seven.”
Gina was silent for a moment. “Yep. Scary. And like I said—magician.”
“You don’t strike me as the type to be frightened by women.”
“Maybe I’m just afraid of superefficient, smart, and…”
“And what?” Carrie asked, holding her breath.
“Competent women.”
She let the breath out.
Gina laughed. “I should also add very attractive.”
“Attractive is a little better than competent,” Carrie muttered.
“You’ll be at the game tomorrow night?” Gina said, abruptly changing the subject.
Disappointed at the sudden distance, Carrie said lightly, “Absolutely. I need to scout out your weaknesses before the tournament.”
“What makes you think we have any?” Gina said.
“Oh. I’ll find them.”
“Maybe I should be worried, then.”
Carrie took a long breath. “I don’t think so.”
“Then I’ll look forward to seeing you in the morning.”
“Oh. Yes.” There she went again, losing her powers of speech. “Right. Tomorrow, then.”
“Good night, Carrie,” Gina said gently.
“’Night,” Carrie murmured as the line went silent. She sat on the steps with her phone cradled in her palms and watched the stars revolve overhead. She told herself the warmth in her chest and the tingle of excitement were all due to the painfully beautiful summer’s night.
Chapter Sixteen
Carrie opened her eyes at 5:35 a.m. and wondered what was wrong with her. She should not be awake. She should have been asleep for another seventy-five minutes. She’d gotten up at this unnatural hour intentionally when necessary, true, but this was not planned. She depended on her internal clock to wake her at the time she decided upon when falling asleep, and this morning for some reason, her clock had betrayed her.
Funny, she didn’t feel tired. If anything, her body hummed with anticipation, as if she was facing a day filled with special plans and not another day at the office. Not that she resented going to work, because she didn’t. Usually she woke in work mode, and by the time she was finishing her first cup of coffee, she was already sorting through the problems she’d have to deal with. That was her job. She took care of the problems so Presley wouldn’t have to. She smiled to herself, thinking about Gina’s assumption that she was the receptionist. She was that too. She was the voice and very often the face that staff, drug reps, patients, families, and bankers heard or saw before they ever met Presley. That was part of her job as well, and an important one. Managing people was every bit as important as managing infrastructure, even more so. Companies ran on people, not budgets and agendas. She and Pres were a good match.
But she was still awake way too early. Since she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, she headed downstairs barefoot to start coffee and enjoy the quietude. Presley had gifted her with half a dozen of Lila’s blueberry corn muffins before she’d left the night before, and she’d fallen asleep thinking about having one of them for breakfast. She put some in the toaster oven to warm, took butter out, and added cream to her coffee. At a few minutes after six, she carried the coffee and muffin outside and sat down to enjoy them both. She’d barely made a dent in either one when the quiet sound of an engine heralded an approaching vehicle. Gina’s truck slowly, almost stealthily, pulled into the yard, and the anticipation bubbling through Carrie’s veins ratcheted up a notch or twenty.
Great—now what?
She had two choices. She could stay where she was in her boxers and tank top and pretend she wasn’t the least bit embarrassed, or she could run inside and find something more suitable, comb her hair, put on some makeup, maybe a dress and a sexy pair of sandals. And wouldn’t that be obvious. Nope, she was staying where she was, in her pajamas, no makeup, and not even an old pair of flip-flops, let alone sexy sandals. At least she’d splashed water on her face.
Gina parked by the barn where she had the day before and sat with the engine running, as if that would somehow buy her time. She’d seen Carrie the instant she’d pulled around the house. She shouldn’t even be here so early, and she didn’t want to compound the offense by barging in on Carrie’s private time. Then again, she couldn’t stay in her truck for another forty-five minutes.
Gina climbed out of her truck and quietly closed the door. She’d been awake since before five, restless for no good reason she could put a finger on. She’d had trouble falling asleep thinking about what her father’d sprung on her and Joe about his health issue, wondering if her mother knew yet, fighting the fear that things were more serious than he’d let on. Hell, things had to be more serious if he agreed to tests that might take a couple days in the hospital. When she’d worked herself up to the point where she was thinking about everything in her life she couldn’t change or fix, she was on the verge of being awake the entire night. Ordinarily when that happened, every few nights or so, she’d go over the next day’s job, replay a ball game, or turn on the light and read a book until she was tired enough to stop thinking. But last night she didn’t do any of those things.
She’d thought about the night in the tavern sitting with Carrie after the game and the phone call the night before, and how talking to her brought out something she’d almost forgotten—the ability to joke and play a little bit with a woman she liked. Heat crawled down her spine, reminding her not to BS herself. She liked Carrie, sure, she was smart and funny and quick and sharp. She was also very, very attractive. That hadn’t helped her get to sleep, either.
And now here she was at 6:20, her hands in her pockets, feeling a little awkward.
“Sorry.” Gina stopped at the bottom of the porch steps and shrugged. “I’m early and disturbing you. I’ll just wait—”
“I’m up early too,” Carrie said, “and I’ve got fresh coffee and the world’s best blueberry corn muffins. Anything sound good?”
“Better than good.” Gina grinned. Things didn’t only sound good, they looked mind-blowing. Carrie wore a white tank top, and although Gina was careful not to drop her gaze, she was pretty positive there wasn’t anything underneath. If that wasn’t enough to short-circuit her already steaming brain, Carrie’s long, tanned legs extended from pale blue boxers covered in— “Are those fishies on your boxers?”
Carrie looked down and turned an adorable shade of strawberry. “Oh my God. Yes. Christmas gift from my sister, who has really weird taste in clothes.”
“I dunno, I think they’re pretty nice.” Gina rocked slowly on her heels, content to stay just where she was as long as the view never changed.
Carrie snorted and waved a hand at herself. “Obviously, I wasn’t expecting company.”
“I think you look great,” Gina said.
> “Well, thank you for not looking all that closely.” Carrie stood. “Come on in—get your coffee and something to eat.”
“If you’re sure?”
“Totally, come on. I’m ready for a refill and, for some weird reason, I put three muffins in to warm this morning.” Carrie smiled. “I must have known you were coming.”
“Huh. And I ended up here a good forty minutes early. You think it’s something in the muffins?”
“I hope not—because I still intend to eat them.” Laughing, Carrie popped a muffin on a plate and handed it to Gina.
“I ought to warn you, construction workers are a little bit like cats.” Gina spread a slab of butter on the muffin and poured a cup of coffee. “If you feed us, we’ll keep hanging around.”
“As long as you don’t leave dead mice on my back porch, I’m not going to complain.” Carrie leaned back against the counter and gave Gina a slow smile that shot straight to her midsection, leaving her as breathless as a punch. Carrie’s smile grew, as if she knew she was twisting Gina up, tight as a bowstring.
“It’s really nice outside,” Carrie said. “Let’s go back.”
“Okay, but my guys will be showing up at seven.” Gina probably wasn’t being very subtle, but she didn’t want the guys seeing Carrie dressed like this. For some reason, she wanted to keep the image of her, relaxed and casually beautiful, all to herself. And thinking about the way they’d be looking at her, just natural, but still, the picture made the back of her neck itch. Not that she would blame them. But Carrie wasn’t just any girl. She was…Carrie.
“We’ll hear them coming, right?” Carrie said.
“Yep.” Gina sat down and put her back against the post, and Carrie settled opposite her, mirroring her position. Their knees nearly touched as they balanced muffins and coffee in their laps. Right at that moment, Gina couldn’t think of another place she’d rather be.
“So, how long have you been doing construction?” Carrie asked.
Gina tensed. No reason to be nervous—just a casual question. “Since I got out of high school. Almost seven years now.”
Carrie did some quick math. Gina was just about her age. “Family business, right?”
“Right.” Gina took a long swallow of coffee, fighting the discomfort of talking about herself, something she rarely did with anyone, even family these days.
“Did you always know you’d be joining your father?” Carrie broke her muffin apart and picked up a piece.
“No,” Gina said, her throat tightening. She swallowed. “That came later. So, how about you? Are you following in the family footsteps somehow?”
Carrie laughed. “No way. My parents are slightly aghast I’m in the corporate world.”
Gina breathed a little easier. On safer ground now. “Seems like a big accomplishment to me to be where you are.”
“Thanks,” Carrie said, coloring faintly. “I think they’re happy for me. They just wonder where they went wrong.” Carrie laughed, no sting in her words. “My father is a college professor—he teaches philosophy. My mom is…basically an instigator. She calls it being a political activist, but mostly she gets people together in support of one cause or another and makes a lot of noise in the right places.”
“Wow. That sounds kind of wild.”
Carrie rolled her eyes. “Oh, trust me, it can be. We had some pretty interesting discussions and meetings around my house growing up.”
“Sounds like the opposite of mine,” Gina said.
“How so?”
“Well, there’s four of us kids, my two sisters and Joe. My father is an ex-Marine, so we were kind of raised like recruits. Sometimes there wasn’t a lot of discussion.”
“I think the middle ground is probably the best,” Carrie said pensively, licking crumbs off her fingertip. “Kids need things to be clear and rules are helpful, but they also need to be able to think for themselves and question authority—” She laughed. “God, I can’t believe I said that. It’s a T-shirt slogan.”
“I know what you mean, though.” Gina had a hard time concentrating while watching Carrie lick her fingertips. The tip of her tongue danced over the pale pink flesh, flicking away crumbs, sliding across the seam of her lips, playful and sensuous and downright mesmerizing. She swallowed hard. Maybe having coffee and muffins with Carrie was a bad idea. One thing about construction work was it demanded concentration, and she needed to have a clear head. Otherwise she’d be dealing with hammered thumbs or worse. But for the next few minutes at least, she was going to enjoy the warm sensation curling in her belly. The sensation she hadn’t experienced in a very long time.
Gina blinked, realizing Carrie was watching her with a curious smile. “Sorry.”
Carrie smiled. “Why?”
“I have a feeling I was staring.”
“I don’t mind.” Carrie took her time breaking off another piece of muffin. “You have beautiful eyes. When you’re concentrating, they get darker.”
“Ah…thanks,” Gina murmured. Good thing Carrie didn’t mind, since she couldn’t seem to stop herself from looking at her.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard that before.”
“I can’t say that I have.”
“Then I’m glad I’m the first.” Carrie would have asked her how that could possibly be, would have teased her a little, flirted a little, except for the quicksilver flash of pain that passed over her face. Okay—past relationships were a touchy subject. Of course, that made her all the more curious. And before she went too much farther down the road she seemed to be pulled down without any intention on her part, she really needed to know if there was a present relationship.
One part of her wished she didn’t know about Gina’s accident. That might be something else Gina didn’t want her to know. She didn’t probe, afraid to put that pain back in her eyes, even if she did want to know everything about her—especially what Gina thought about when she looked at her with that intense, slow gaze, and what brought the flashes of the devil into her eyes when she teased, or the faraway look she got when she sat on the porch looking out over the fields.
“The guys will be here soon.” Gina stood abruptly and brushed the crumbs from her lap. “Thanks for breakfast.”
“Anytime.” Carrie rose too, leaving her cup and plate on the porch. She was running behind, should have been in the shower five minutes ago, and she still didn’t want the day to start—or this moment to end. “Consider the coffee a standing offer. I can’t vouch for the muffins, though.”
“I suppose I could do the food part.” Gina smiled. “What’s your pleasure?”
“That’s a dangerous line,” Carrie said, relieved to see the clouds lifting from Gina’s eyes. “It could be complicated.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Gina said slowly. “I can always get a couple different things, if you’re not sure what you like.”
“I’m pretty sure I know what that is.” Carrie waited for the comeback, but none came. Only Gina’s gaze moving languorously over her face, dropping to her mouth, heavy and thick and sweet as honey slowly coating her tongue. Gina suddenly seemed to be standing closer—had Gina moved? Had she? The air was so oddly still. The morning had been filled with the ever-present distant rumble of tractors, the twittering of birds building nests under the eaves of the house, the rush of water in the creek that ran a hundred yards away. All that disappeared, leaving only the drumbeat of her heart echoing in the silence.
Carrie obeyed the demand of something she barely recognized—the subtle, undeniable, irresistible bending of a flower toward the sun, the ebb and flow of waves against the shore, the slip of twilight into night. Inexorable, as natural as breathing. She lifted on her toes and leaned into her. Gina didn’t move away.
When Carrie kissed her, her mind was absolutely clear, bright and sharp against the sweet softness of Gina’s mouth. Gina’s lips were warm and, after a heartbeat, gently questing, answering Carrie’s careful explorations with her own. Carrie rested her fingertips light
ly on Gina’s bare arm. Gina’s muscles rippled beneath her touch, and heat flooded Carrie’s depths. She gasped, her lips parted slightly against Gina’s. Through half-closed lids, she found Gina’s smoky gaze and drifted in the hazy heat.
Gina chuckled low in her throat and Carrie’s pulse jumped, slow-rolling storm clouds building inside. Gina tilted her head ever so slightly, her lips moving over Carrie’s until they fit perfectly, breath to breath. No other parts of their bodies touched, but Gina’s heart beat through Carrie’s fingertips, a distant thunder, steady and strong and hinting of sweet danger. Carrie could have kissed her forever, standing in that one spot in the perfect silence, would have slid her fingers over smooth slick skin, searching for the places that made Gina gasp, if the rumble of a truck coming down the drive hadn’t fractured the stillness like a scream splintering crystal. She backed away, feeling Gina’s captivating gaze follow her.
“Well,” Carrie said, breathless and unable to hide it, “that wasn’t exactly what I was going to ask for.”
A battered black Dodge Ram pickup pulled in behind Gina’s and two guys in sleeveless tees and canvas work pants tumbled out, cardboard coffee cups in their hands, some conversation Carrie couldn’t catch bouncing back and forth between them.
“Come to think of it,” Carrie said, “I didn’t ask at all, did I.”
Gina sucked in a breath, looked toward the men in the yard. “I better get to work.”
“Me too.” Carrie waited for Gina to say something else—what, she had no idea. Let’s do that again, let’s not do that again. Why the hell did you do that? She couldn’t answer that question, so she was glad Gina didn’t ask. She was vaguely aware of the two guys approaching and wondered how she and Gina looked to the two of them—her standing there with not very much on and Gina just inches away. Hopefully not as exposed as she felt. She backed up toward her screen door and the safety beyond.
“Don’t forget the game tonight,” Gina said, watching her go. Frankie and Manny were right behind her, and as much as she didn’t want Carrie to disappear, she didn’t want the guys looking at her.
