Dare to Stay (Puppy Love Romances Book 3)

by Georgia Beers

  The only sound now was the gently steady breathing coming from each of them as Jessica rolled off Sydney’s body to lie on her back beside her. Sydney reached blindly for her, patting different parts of her body until she found Jessica’s hand, brought it to her lips, and kissed the knuckles.

  “You are a goddess,” she said softly, eyes still closed.

  Jessica’s shoulders moved as she chuckled. “I’ll take that. Slight exaggeration, but I’ll take it.”

  “No,” Sydney said, shaking her head, still with her eyes shut. “No exaggeration. I’m positive. Goddess.” She pointed in Jessica’s general direction and sighed. “Goddess.”

  “Well, if you’re positive, I guess I can’t argue.”

  “You can’t.”

  The most interesting thing to strike Jessica in that moment was the ease. The overall, general relaxation. She turned to look at Sydney, to study her profile, the straight nose, the smooth skin, the sexily tousled hair, and the after-sex flush of her cheeks. And she wasn’t nervous with Sydney any longer. Not even a little. It was like any worry or trepidation had been expelled from her body with her orgasm (okay, two orgasms). She was perfectly content to just lie there next to Sydney, stare at her face, feel the heat from her body, the warmth of her hand.

  She wasn’t sure what to do with that.

  Trying not to overthink, she turned onto her side to face Sydney. “I’m going to get some water. Want some?”

  “I do.” As Jessica moved, Sydney added, “And wine?”

  “Demanding,” Jessica said, one eyebrow raised.

  “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “In that case, one water and one glass of wine coming right up.”

  She padded to the kitchen still in her dress, sans underwear, and her cats followed, twining around her feet as she got glasses, opened a bottle of Cabernet, and grabbed a bottle of water. When she returned to the bedroom she was surprised to see that Sydney was dressed. Jessica stopped in the doorway.

  “You’re leaving?” She hadn’t meant to sound like a petulant child, didn’t want to, but was afraid that’s exactly how it came out.

  Sydney smiled as she buttoned her shirt, but her eyes darted away. “I didn’t realize how late it is. Big day tomorrow.”

  “But…the wine.” She held up the glasses lamely.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the time…”

  She didn’t really have a leg to stand on. Sydney was right. She’d just been hoping…what had she been hoping? Refusing to delve any deeper for an answer, she shrugged. “Yeah, you’re right. This was fun, but…big day tomorrow.” Annoyed that she couldn’t even come up with her own line, Jessica set the wine and glasses down on a dresser. Picking up the water bottle, she handed it to Sydney. “Don’t want you getting dehydrated.”

  “Thanks.” Sydney stepped toward her to take the bottle, kissed her softly on the mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  And she was gone. Just like that.

  Jessica stood alone in the empty room, hurt, confused, and angry.

  *

  “What the hell just happened?”

  Sydney said it aloud, but quietly, once she was out onto the street and walking in the direction of her own apartment. It was barely 10:30. Too early even to be doing a walk of shame. And yet she’d left. Just left. Actually, ran away was much more accurate. She ran away.

  Why?

  She’d been looking around the bedroom, taking in Jessica’s personal items, the décor. The room was warm, inviting. There was art on the walls. There was a lush, thriving plant on a stand by the window. There were photos on the dresser of her and an older couple that had to be her grandparents. Another of her and Henry standing in front of the shelter. A third of Jessica, Catherine, and Lisa, smiling and happy, holding up champagne flutes in celebration of…something. Jessica’s life was here. All of it. She had roots.

  The thought made Sydney both envious and terrified.

  She could still see Jessica’s face, a mix of shocked surprise and disappointment tinted with a hint of confusion. “Big day tomorrow,” Sydney said in an unkind mimic of her own voice, then shook her head. What was the matter with her? Seriously.

  Her apartment building was fairly quiet, though the same couldn’t be said for those around her. Several college-age and twenty-something partiers mingled on the sidewalk, red Solo cups in hand, obviously overflow from a nearby party. She breathed a sigh of relief when she slid her key into the lock and shut the apartment door behind her, muffling the music and conversation wafting up from the street.

  The only light in the room came from the gently humming fish tank. Sydney tossed her keys on the counter, plopped herself onto the end of the couch nearest the tank, put her chin down on the arm, and watched Marge and Homer swim around aimlessly. There was something calming, relaxing, about staring at the fish as they swam, not a care in the world.

  I can’t get attached.

  The thought came out of nowhere and snapped at Sydney like a wet towel in a locker room. But attachment hadn’t ever been a problem. She wasn’t a girl who got attached, so that shouldn’t be an issue. Somehow, though, it had become an issue with Jessica.

  Because Sydney could totally see herself becoming attached. In a big way.

  Sydney closed her eyes, tried to push the thought from her head. Instead, her brain painted her a vividly erotic image of the view she had earlier. The view she had when she looked up from Jessica’s center where she’d buried her face, her mouth. The view of the long, lean body clad in black fabric, auburn hair tousled and spread over the ivory comforter, chest heaving. God, she hadn’t even gotten her hands on Jessica’s breasts. Hadn’t even undressed her completely, she’d been so blinded by arousal, so driven to touch Jessica’s most intimate place, to hear her ragged breathing, to cause the sounds she made.

  “If I’m honest, Marge,” she said quietly to the fish. “I have to admit that my plan had been to end it there.” Despite admitting it to a mere fish, Sydney still felt shame at the statement. “I just wanted to touch her.” This time, she whispered it. “That’s all. I just wanted to touch her. I didn’t count on her turning the tables so quickly.” God, had she turned the tables. And then the image in her mind’s eye shifted until Jessica was above her, those blue eyes boring into hers, those long fingers working some kind of magic between Sydney’s legs. “I had to get out of there. It was that simple. I had to.” Sydney turned so she lay with her head back against the couch. “She went to get water. And wine. And I lay there thinking about cuddling with her and does she like that or is she not a cuddler and which side of the bed does she like to sleep on and would she be warm enough under just the sheet or would we need the comforter, too, and…I just panicked. It was too much. I just couldn’t. I panicked. I panicked and I ran.”

  Even though it was the truth, Sydney was ashamed. Even Marge must’ve been disgusted, as she turned fin and swam in the opposite direction.

  And tomorrow was the telethon. Not only would she and Jessica be together all day long, they’d be together all day long in front of a bunch of people and on live television.

  My timing could not possibly suck more.

  Trying not to dwell on that turned out not to be an option, because she tossed and turned for the rest of the night, pinballing between checking her phone every ten minutes, being disappointed that Jessica hadn’t texted her, and hating herself for not having the balls to text Jessica first.

  Sleep stayed well out of her grasp.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Did she have to look so good?

  Jessica had made up her mind about the role she’d play today. Aloof. Unconcerned. Maybe a little flighty even. So Sydney’d had sex with her—ridiculously hot, mind-blowing sex, but whatever—and then hightailed it out of there like the place was on fire, but that didn’t mean Jessica had to dwell on it. Right? So they’d had a one-night stand. It certainly wasn’t Jessica’s first. Probably wouldn
’t be her last. She could play this part. No problem.

  But did Sydney really have to look so damn good?

  She was casual but not. Jeans, which were so not her professional attire, but fit like they should be and hugged her ass like a possessive lover. She—or the station, more likely—had had a camp shirt made for her with the Junebug Farms logo on one side and the Channel Six logo on the other, and the deep teal color of it made her eyes look even more intense than they usually did, and that said a lot. Her dark hair was shiny, the ends curling just a bit, and it looked so soft Jessica balled her hands into fists to keep from giving in and walking across the lobby to dig her fingers into it. Again.

  Bridget had worked some magic and Sydney now sported her on-air makeup, which made her look prettier—something Jessica didn’t think was possible. When Sydney had walked into the shelter, Jessica had literally felt all the air leave her lungs and had actually muttered, “Damn her,” then looked around, hoping nobody had heard.

  Completely contrary to Sydney Taylor, Jessica looked like a corpse that had been run over by a truck. Twice. Her pallor was gray. Her hair was limp. She had those damn dark circles under her eyes, announcing to everybody that she’d gotten little sleep. She blamed it on nerves, and that was only a partial lie, but it was mostly because she couldn’t shut her brain off after Sydney had left last night. She warred with herself about whether or not to text. Sydney had been right: today was a big day. And if she’d stayed, they’d have most likely gotten even less sleep than Jessica had alone. So, she couldn’t really hold it against Sydney, and she’d decided not to text. It was just…the idea of waking up with her had painted a really nice picture. So then she would sigh, feeling a bit of disappointed anger seep in. Then she’d flash back to their lovemaking and her view would soften just a little bit. All told, she figured she’d gotten maybe two hours of sleep. Maybe. And that had been somewhere just before her six o’clock alarm.

  Bridget spent fifteen minutes doing damage control on Jessica’s face, her silence enough to tell Jessica that she wasn’t wrong about the state of her appearance. But one glance in the mirror had her smiling. “You’re a miracle worker,” she said.

  “It’s not hard when I have a good basic canvas,” Bridget replied with a wink.

  “Today, I will take that,” Jessica said and squeezed her shoulder in thanks.

  It was now or never. Time to face the music. Pay the piper. And any other cliché that meant it was time to be within the same three feet as the woman who’d turned her into a quivering mass of sexual pleasure last night.

  She could do this.

  Before she had a chance to cross the lobby, though, David approached her. He looked amazing, as usual, in his jeans and black, tight-fitting T-shirt that showcased his hard-earned musculature, but his face was worried.

  “Have you seen Anna?” he asked quietly.

  Damn it.

  “No,” she responded. “I tried calling her this morning, but it went straight to voice-mail.”

  “Me, too.” He gazed across the lobby, looking for everybody like they were having an everyday, normal conversation.

  “David.” Jessica looked at her shoes, not wanting to expose her private life, but feeling like she had to in this instance. “This is my fault.”

  David furrowed his brow, silently asking what she meant.

  Without going into the nitty-gritty details of her sex life, she told him that Anna had liked Sydney, and Jessica had ended up spending a lot of time with her, which Anna discovered.

  David was not happy about it; she could tell by the look on his face. She immediately flashed back to when she’d discovered Catherine and Emily were seeing each other, her concern for appearances, the disapproval she’d conveyed. “Listen, I’m not thrilled about any of this either. It wasn’t intentional,” she said to David, immediately recalling that Catherine had said almost the same thing to her.

  “It never is,” David retorted, but immediately seemed to regret his tone. “I’m sorry. It’s just…bad timing.”

  “I know. I’ve talked to the TV people and we’ll figure it out. I’m sorry.”

  He gave a curt nod and walked away, leaving Jessica to feel guilty, inadequate, and immature. And goddamn Anna and her unprofessionalism. Yes, she’d been hurt. By a friend and unexpectedly, if Jessica was going to be honest. But she had a job. And grown-ups did their jobs even when they were angry.

  “Shit,” she muttered, looking around the lobby at all the volunteers, TV people, and visitors readying for the telethon.

  “Hey.” Sydney’s voice hit her before she was ready, before she was able to take a moment and prepare. Damn her.

  “You know, you could at least pretend you were affected by last night.” She’d snapped out the words before she could stop herself and now she was embarrassed, color flooding her cheeks.

  Sydney didn’t look at her, just stared at the schedule in her hand and said quietly, “I am affected. I am very affected. Give me some credit, for God’s sake.”

  “I’d give you all the credit in the world if you hadn’t fled like a rat from a sinking ship.”

  “Ouch.”

  Connor came up to them at that moment, began discussing the schedule, the timing, which cameras they’d be looking at, and that was a good thing because Jessica needed to pull herself together. She couldn’t be this edgy, this snippy. Today’s focus was on the shelter and raising money for it. She needed to concentrate on that, not on her wreck of a sex life. Not on the ridiculously attractive woman at her side that made her want to clench her thighs together just from being next to her.

  She also, however, needed to deal with her missing public relations manager.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to Sydney as Connor went off to speak with the volunteers who’d be answering the phones. “I’m just nervous. I didn’t get much sleep and…I’m nervous.”

  Sydney smiled tenderly at her. “You have no reason to be nervous. You’re going to be great.”

  She was all business and Jessica guessed that was probably a good thing for the moment. She offered a crooked grin and said, “Hey, while we’re on the subject of awkward moments, have you heard from Anna?”

  “If you don’t count the giant scratch on my car that I suspect was made by her key, then no.” Sydney didn’t look at her when she spoke, her eyes still focused on the schedule in her hand, but her voice was clipped, tense.

  “What?” Jessica’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

  “Yeah. I came outside this morning to a giant scratch running from my front passenger side tire all the way to the rear bumper.” Sydney didn’t seem angry about it, though. She seemed…sad. Resigned. Guilty. Finally, she looked up at Jessica. “Why?”

  “Because nobody has been able to get ahold of her since last night. And frankly, she has responsibilities today.”

  “I know. But…” Sydney looked off into the distance with those gorgeous eyes of hers. “Don’t you feel a little bit guilty? I mean, we did this.”

  Jessica sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

  What else could be said?

  Sydney looked at her. Really looked at her. Almost studied her. Then a smile broke across that beautiful face and she said, “You look amazing. You know that?”

  Jessica felt the heat rush up from her chest, cover her neck, rest in her cheeks, and she looked down, the epitome of the shy girl. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

  “Let’s just get through today. Okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  They split up then, Sydney heading off to the control area to talk to the director and Jessica heading back to her office to try Anna one more time. On the way, she hit up both Catherine and Lisa, neither of whom had heard from her. In her office, she dialed the number and went unsurprisingly into voice-mail.

  “Anna, it’s Jessica. Listen. I know you’re upset with me and I’m sorry about that. I honestly don’t know what to say. You’ve known me for a long time and you have to know that I’d never do anything
to intentionally hurt you. I just…people here are worried about you. I’m worried about you. Can you just call? Please?”

  While Jessica did subscribe to some of what Sydney mentioned—the guilt, the shame for betraying a friend, however unintentionally—she was also the boss. And as the boss, she found Anna’s irresponsibility grating.

  Do your job. And if you can’t do your job, at least call in sick so someone else can do your job. That’s what her grandmother would’ve said.

  She set the handset in the cradle. She’d done all she could. She’d be damned if she was going to let this ruin the day for the shelter. The telethon brought in more money than any other fundraiser during the year. It was huge and important and Jessica knew that Anna’s disappearing act had been carefully timed for maximum damage. With a sigh, she headed for the door. The only course of action to take was to assume Anna wasn’t going to show. It was time to delegate her jobs.

  *

  The first three hours of the telethon had flown by. And even more smoothly than Sydney had hoped. She and Connor exchanged many a glance, as Jessica continually knocked it out of the park with her approachable professionalism and incomparable knowledge. She never stuttered, never stumbled over words, and gave off an air of knowing exactly what she was talking about without making you feel dumb because you didn’t. The volunteers sitting at the phone bank were enamored of her when they weren’t busy answering phones, their gazes glued to her every move, whether she was on the air or not.