Tailor-Made

by Yolanda Wallace

  “We say that here, too.” Grace peered at the bright blue sky through the thick branches overhead. “It should be over soon.”

  “I’m in no hurry. Are you?”

  Grace could feel Dakota’s hard nipples poking into her back. It was all she could do not to rub herself against them. Dakota’s shivering was already providing enough friction. She didn’t need more.

  She pressed her body closer to Dakota’s. Bad idea. The closer proximity only intensified the sensation. She could feel Dakota’s crotch pressing against her back. Dakota groaned when Grace ground her hips against her.

  “Jesus, Grace,” Dakota said with a shudder. “I know I don’t look like any of the other women you’ve been with, but is that reason enough to walk away from something that feels this good?”

  Grace turned to face her. Dakota’s eyes were wild. When Grace ran a hand over the rippled muscles in Dakota’s stomach, her eyes grew wilder still. Grace put her hand on the back of Dakota’s neck, snaked her fingers into Dakota’s hair, and pulled her head down until their mouths met in a kiss that was tentative at first but quickly grew in urgency until both she and Dakota were left gasping for breath.

  Grace ran a finger over Dakota’s lips to keep from tasting them again. If she treated herself to another kiss, she might not be able to stop. She and Dakota were already attracting their fair share of attention. Any more might result in a morals charge. Or, even worse, an exposé on a tawdry gossip website. If that happened, her parents would blow a gasket over the negative publicity. Even worse than they had when Hope showed them the infamous picture of Dakota hooking up with a relative stranger in a nightclub. “I trust you won’t find yourself in similar circumstances,” Hope had said that day. Now Grace was perilously close to doing exactly that. She moved away from Dakota so she could regain some semblance of control. “I thought you said getting caught in the rain was overrated.”

  Dakota slowly unspooled a lazy smile. “I guess I was wrong.”

  “I’m beginning to think I was, too.”

  A glimmer of hope bloomed in Dakota’s eyes. “What are you saying?”

  Grace returned Dakota’s T-shirt as the rain trickled to a stop. “I’m saying you owe me a gondola ride. Are you going to pay up now or later?”

  Dakota put her T-shirt back on and fished some money out of her pocket. “There’s no time like the present.”

  Unfortunately, the present always gave way to the future. As they made their way to the boathouse to hire a gondolier, Grace wondered if Dakota would become part of her future or a fond memory soon relegated to the past.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dakota had an underwear shoot scheduled for Wednesday afternoon. She put in a half day at the messenger agency before she stopped by her apartment long enough to shower and change. Then she took the subway to Martin Gaines’s studio in Lower Manhattan for the photo session. After she arrived, she greeted everyone in attendance and headed to the dressing room so she could ditch her street clothes in favor of the first in a series of T-shirts, tank tops, and boxer briefs the client had provided.

  She was constantly tempted to don her strap-on when she modeled underwear, but she always resisted the urge. The designers who hired her sought her out because they liked her edge, but when she stepped in front of the camera, she had to make sure those edges were blunt enough to appeal to a mainstream audience. The point, after all, was to move product, not prompt upset consumers to spend their hard-earned money on the competition.

  Once the shoot began, she didn’t have any problems following Martin’s command to look sultry because she had been in a constant state of arousal since she and Grace had gotten caught in the rain in Central Park last Saturday. Four days later, she could still feel Grace’s soft, curvy body pressed against her as they took shelter under a tree. As they sought comfort in each other. She could still taste Grace’s kiss. Grace’s lips were sweet like honey. Her tongue hot like fire.

  Dakota ran her tongue over her own lips as she savored the memory. She hadn’t been kissed like that since—Well, never. The kiss she and Grace had shared was like something she had read in a romance novel, but it wasn’t like anything she had ever experienced in real life.

  She lifted the hem of her form-fitting undershirt and flexed her abs. As Martin pressed the shutter release on his camera, she made sure the label on her boxer briefs was visible so the pictures he took wouldn’t be wasted. What good was it to shoot a print ad if potential buyers couldn’t tell what brand was being advertised?

  “What’s gotten into you?” Martin asked as he slowly circled her. “You’re on fire today.”

  If only he knew how right he was. If I were a dude, she thought, I’d have the world’s biggest boner right now. The hungry look the wardrobe assistant was giving her wasn’t helping matters much. Dakota cupped her hand against her mound, parted her lips, and gave the camera her best come-hither expression. She was grateful the tight cotton-spandex briefs were black because the seat was soaked. The wardrobe assistant looked like she was about to spontaneously combust when Dakota’s fingers came away wet. Dakota had been trying to find relief for days, but her self-administered remedies had made her condition worse instead of better. She needed to feel a woman’s touch before she lost her mind.

  The wardrobe assistant approached her after Martin mercifully ended the shoot. “I’m Ryan.” Dakota’s clit twitched when Ryan dipped her gaze toward her crotch. “I’ll bet you’re hard enough to cut glass right now,” she said in a seductive whisper. “Do you want to get out of here and grab a drink?”

  Dakota slipped on the robe Ryan offered her. A drink sounded wonderful, but it was plain to see a refreshing beverage wasn’t the only thing Ryan had in mind.

  Ryan was ready, willing, and able. Three of Dakota’s favorite words in the English language. Not so long ago, she would have eagerly accepted Ryan’s invitation without giving it a second thought. But something made her hesitate. The idea of sleeping with a relative stranger, no matter how hot, didn’t hold nearly as much appeal as the thought of holding out for the woman she had spent the past few weeks getting to know.

  “I wish I could,” she said, “but I’m meeting a friend for an early dinner.”

  That wasn’t an outright lie, but it did stray pretty far from the truth. She was supposed to meet Aaron at Mainline tonight, but she figured he would be too focused on pumping her for information about Rich and his tour to give her time to eat. Rich was just as bad. He called her after every show to let her know how his performance had gone, but he spent more time asking about the people he had left behind than he did discussing the ones who were accompanying him on the road.

  She had told herself not to involve herself in other people’s relationships since she had no idea how to maintain one of her own, but she was sorely tempted to tell Aaron to pick a city on the list of tour dates, buy a plane ticket, surprise Rich with a bouquet of flowers after a show, and take him to dinner to see if they could get out of their own way long enough to realize they were meant to be together.

  “Some other time, then?” Ryan asked.

  Dakota’s ringing phone saved her from having to come up with another lie. “I’m sorry,” she said when she saw Laird’s name printed on the screen, “but I have to take this.” She headed to the dressing room and closed the door.

  “What does your schedule look like next week?” Laird asked without preamble. “If you can take time off work, I need you to go to Tokyo for two days.”

  She pressed the speaker icon on her cell phone so she could continue the conversation while she got dressed. “What’s in Tokyo?” she asked as she dropped her robe and pulled on her jeans.

  “One of the leading whiskey manufacturers in Japan wants you to film a commercial.”

  That got Dakota’s attention. Hollywood celebrities were routinely paid exorbitant amounts to shoot commercials and print ads for products they would never shill in the States. If she accepted the job Laird was dangling in front
of her, she doubted she would receive the same kind of compensation Brad Pitt or Leonardo DiCaprio might expect, but she knew it would be several times her usual going rate. Not bad for a couple days’ work.

  “Surely the messenger agency can find someone else to make deliveries in your absence,” Laird said. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to turn down five figures in order to earn minimum wage. When are you going to quit that job, anyway? I know how much money you pull in on an annual basis. Unless you’ve blown it all without telling me, it’s not like you’re hurting monetarily.”

  “Being a messenger helps me stay in shape and it gives me something to do while I’m waiting for you to tell me my next assignment.”

  “Whatever works for you. So can I pencil you in for Tokyo or not? The client wants an answer by tomorrow, or they’re going to reach out to someone else.”

  Dakota buttoned her shirt and bent to tie her shoes. Tokyo was one of her favorite cities. She loved the sights, sounds, and energy of the place. She didn’t get a chance to visit often, and each time she left, she vowed to return as soon as she could. The trip Laird was proposing was right up her alley—a sweet paycheck, all the sushi she could eat, all the sake she could drink, and a no-holds-barred trip to one of the largest red-light districts in the world.

  She didn’t think her manager at the messenger agency would mind letting her have the week off. In exchange for the free publicity she garnered for the company each time she mentioned its name during an interview, she was practically able to set her own schedule.

  “If Sophie’s available, see if the client is willing to work with her instead.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Laird said. “A few weeks ago, you practically held a sit-in outside my office because you were worried Sophie was going to unseat you at Whitaker. Now you’re passing up a high-profile gig and throwing it her way?”

  Turning down a lucrative ad campaign in order to make a play for someone who wasn’t completely certain she was into her seemed foolhardy. Dakota didn’t know if she was doing the right thing, but one thing was for sure: she would never be able to forgive herself if she didn’t take the chance. “I know it sounds crazy, but at the moment, I have much more incentive to stay here than I do to fly halfway around the world.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “So do I.”

  * * *

  Grace didn’t often go out during the week because she didn’t like staying up late when she had to get up early to go to work the next day. The occasional dinner date was fine as long as it didn’t involve more than one bottle of wine, but a full-fledged night on the town? No way. Unless she wanted to spend more time nodding off at her desk than getting any actual work done. So when Lynette called her late Thursday afternoon and begged her to accompany her to an impromptu street party in Harlem because Monica was working the late shift and she didn’t want to go alone, her first instinct was to say no. But she had been wired for days and she needed to do something to burn off the extra energy. Spending a few hours doing all the line dances she had memorized the steps to might do the trick since nothing else she had tried seemed to help. Not even extending her work day from eight hours to ten. The additional hours helped her put a dent in the backlog of orders—the stack didn’t seem nearly as daunting as it once did—but they didn’t do anything to prevent her brain from filling with thoughts of Dakota. And they definitely didn’t stop her body from tingling from memories of that kiss.

  The kiss—impulsive, daring, and maybe even a little reckless—wasn’t like her. In fact, it was the exact opposite of everything she had always aspired to be. She was calm, rational, and she didn’t do over-the-top public displays of affection. So what had prompted her to toss reason aside and risk everything—her family’s standing, her reputation, even her own sense of self—for one kiss? Simple. Because being in Dakota’s arms had felt so good she didn’t want to leave. She had spent the last few days yearning for a return visit. For a repeat of the romantic gondola ride they had taken on Central Park Lake. For a continuation of that kiss.

  She couldn’t decide whether she should run from what she was feeling or embrace it. Despite her reputation as both a playgirl and a party animal, Dakota seemed to have her head on straight. Smart, successful, and surprisingly humble, she was a great catch. If, that was, she had any interest in being caught.

  The idea of being with Dakota intrigued Grace, but it scared her too. She wanted to be something more than a notch on someone’s bedpost or a box to be checked on a sexual to-do list. Dakota could promise her a good time, but would those promises extend past the hours she and Dakota spent in bed?

  Despite her best efforts, Grace’s attraction to Dakota continued to grow. But how could she possibly be with her when there were so many obstacles standing in their way? Even if she threw her rule about not dating clients out the window, Dakota didn’t want a relationship and Grace didn’t want to settle for something temporary. And if they did manage to find common ground on that front, her family would provide another obstacle that would need to be overcome. Neither her parents nor her sisters would approve of them being together. Faith might eventually come around since she was the most open-minded of the bunch, but Hope would be more difficult to convince—as her comments during the walk to church a few weeks ago had made clear.

  Hope didn’t seem to have it in her to be happy for someone else unless things were going well in her own life. She hadn’t had a serious boyfriend in a while, and the comments from the women at church about the lack of a wedding ring on her finger seemed to sting a little more each week. Grace wished Hope could meet someone she could give her heart to, but was she willing to forgo her own shot at happiness while she waited in vain for her sister to find hers?

  Lynette’s impatient sigh drew Grace back into the conversation and away from her jumbled thoughts. “I didn’t ask you to list the first thousand digits of pi. I asked you a simple yes or no question. Do you want to meet up with me tonight or not?”

  “Sure.”

  “You do?”

  “If you didn’t think I would say yes, why did you call me in the first place?”

  “I knew I’d be able to convince you to give in eventually, but I figured I’d have to do a lot more whining first.”

  Grace laughed as she shut down her computer. “Then it sounds like I gave in just in time. See you in an hour?”

  “If you look out the window, you can see me a lot sooner than that.”

  Grace crossed the room, stuck her head out the window, and peered down at the street. Lynette waved up at her. Grace waved back, turned off the lights, and set the alarm. “You really weren’t planning on taking no for an answer, were you?” she asked after she met Lynette downstairs.

  “Have I ever? What’s up with you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Lynette gave her a long look as they walked down the street. “You look different. You look…happy.” She gasped, quickened her pace, and blocked Grace’s path. “You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?” She didn’t give Grace time to respond before she hit her with a barrage of questions. “Who is she? What’s her name? Where did you meet her? Do I know her? How long have you been an item? And why are you keeping her such a secret?”

  “Please stop and take a minute to breathe before you pass out.”

  Lynette took a deep breath, slowly released it, and fired off another round of questions. “Is it serious? It’s not Karin, is it? Ooh, maybe it’s Renee. Did you take another look at that incredible body of hers and decide to give her a second chance? I certainly would. Have I mentioned her arms?”

  “Yes, you have. And no, I’m not seeing Renee. Or Karin. As a matter of fact, I’m not seeing anyone. I’m just…” Grace allowed her voice to trail off as she tried to determine how to finish her sentence.

  “Just what?”

  Spending time with someone who makes me question everything I thought I knew about what I wanted in life and what I was
looking for in a partner. “Just making a new friend.”

  “Oh, damn, girl, you already have enough of those. And the best one of all is standing right in front of you.”

  Grace didn’t want to compare apples to oranges. Lynette was the best friend she’d ever had, but Dakota was something else entirely. Until she figured out what that something was, she decided to keep it—and Dakota—to herself.

  * * *

  Mainline wasn’t the same without Rich around to liven things up. The club itself was the same, but the crowd was thin and the energy was flat. Even though it was a weeknight and relatively early, Dakota had expected a better showing. She turned to Aaron after she finished her club soda. “Roxxy just sent me a text. She’s DJing a nineties throwback street party in Harlem tonight. Do you want to get out of here and check it out?”

  Aaron looked around the sparsely populated room. “Sounds good to me. Anything is bound to be better than this.” He polished off the rest of his lemon drop martini as she closed out their tab. “Roxxy had better play ‘Vogue,’ though, because that’s my jam.”

  Dakota calculated the tip and signed the receipt. “Every song in Madonna’s catalog is your jam, even the ones where she was just phoning it in.”

  Aaron inched an eyebrow toward his prematurely graying hair. Even though he was only a few months past his thirtieth birthday, he was well on his way to becoming a silver fox. Rich’s pet name for him was Anderson Cooper, though Dakota hoped he managed to call out the right name when they were in bed. “People who have the Backstreet Boys’ greatest hits on their MP3 player are not allowed to hate on Her Madgesty.”

  “Point taken. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” she said after Aaron tucked a five-dollar bill into a go-go boy’s G-string.

  “Not that much better.” Aaron’s smile faded and the twinkle in his eyes dimmed. He was six foot two and solidly built, but the sadness that enveloped him made him look small. “I miss Rich.”