Just Business

by Julie Cannon

  “You know that’s not what I meant. It’s just that—shit, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just jealous.” Audrey plopped down on the couch next to Callie. “I mean, you meet Dillon Matthews at the bar while waiting for me. Jeez, maybe if I’d been there on time I’d be the one going to the Bahamas with the hottest woman on the planet.”

  Callie playfully elbowed her in the side. Despite the nagging guilt about enjoying herself, she was beginning to get excited about the trip. “See, I told you that you’d miss out on the biggest thing in your life someday because you can’t get anywhere on time. And would you please stop saying Dillon Matthews as if her name would stop traffic.”

  “For Pete’s sake, Cal, you still don’t have any idea who she is, do you?”

  An uncomfortable feeling was gnawing her gut. “Yes, Audrey, I do. She’s successful, rich, and gorgeous. Big deal. She still puts her pants on one leg at a time. And speaking of putting on and taking off pants, I’m sure we’ll have separate rooms. God only knows how many bedrooms were in the Franklins’ house. I’m sure their place in Paradise Island has more than just two.”

  *

  Callie had never been more wrong.

  “Here you are, ladies,” Phyllis said happily. “There should be plenty of room for your clothes in the closet over here, and the bathroom is through that door.” She pointed to the door on the other side of the small room that Callie estimated was five or six steps from where she stood rooted to the floor.

  When they had arrived at the house, she knew it was smaller than the one where they attended the party, but she had no idea how much smaller. As Phyllis gave them the grand tour, Callie kept waiting to turn the corner and reach an additional wing containing all the bedrooms. They took several turns, and the final one ended in this small room that she was expected to share with Dillon. She didn’t fault Phyllis. She had assumed they were a couple, and even if they weren’t, the house still had only two bedrooms.

  “I’ll let you two get settled. Come into the kitchen any time. We usually have a cocktail on the patio and watch the sun set before dinner. You’re welcome to join us.”

  “Thank you, Phyllis. We won’t be long.”

  Callie was thankful Dillon said something because all she could focus on was the queen-size bed looming in the middle of the room, and all she could think about was lying naked with Dillon as the warm breeze floated through the window.

  “Well.” Dillon didn’t know what else to say. It was obvious they both expected different sleeping arrangements, and any other time this would be an opportunity she wouldn’t pass up. She had thought of Callie off and on for the past four days. Her smile, the smooth cadence of her voice, the feel of her skin under her lips… Rarely did a woman occupy her mind as much as Callie had. She was distracted at work, practically counting the days until they were together again.

  Only on the flight over was she able to force herself to think of this weekend objectively. They were here together merely for business purposes, she told herself, and she would make sure nothing happened to disrupt her chances of getting Bill’s land.

  “Well,” Callie repeated. “This is…unexpected.” She actually wanted to say she felt as awkward as a teenager about to have sex for the first time.

  “I’m sorry,” Dillon said softly, and stepped farther into the room. Callie assumed she didn’t want Phyllis to overhear their conversation any more than she did.

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It was a natural assumption, I guess. I mean, we did act like we were together.” Callie cringed, knowing she was the one who had mostly acted that way that evening.

  Dillon was in a quandry. She didn’t know if she should tell Phyllis that she and Callie weren’t lovers. What would she say? That this was their second date? How would that make her look? She knew she was being callous, but she was more afraid of what her confession would do to the deal than how it would affect her relationship with Callie or the Franklins.

  “If I were the chivalrous type I’d volunteer to sleep in the chair, but since Phyllis has already labeled me a scoundrel, I’ll take the left side,” Dillon said, pointing to the bed. “We’re adults. We can sleep in the same bed without becoming sexually involved.” She was a very good liar.

  Callie took her cue from Dillon and laid her suitcase on her side of the bed. “Of course we are. We’re in a beautiful place with wonderful people with nothing but time on our hands for the next three days. We can get through this.” Callie was a better liar.

  She had spent the last three nights dreaming of Dillon. Monday night she was furious when Greg, not Dillon, phoned and informed her of their itinerary. She was pissed that Dillon couldn’t find the time to call her herself. They were planning to spend the weekend together, for heaven’s sake. Greg had been professional during their transactions, but she felt as if he were scheduling his boss to have sex. By the time Friday morning came around she had spoken to Greg more times than she had ever spoken to Dillon, and she was almost ready to cancel on principle. But when she saw Dillon on her front porch, all thoughts of principle went out the window.

  Dillon was wearing a pair of khaki cargo shorts, a dark blue tank top that brought out the gray of her eyes, and a pair of well-worn flip-flops. Her legs were long and surprisingly firm for a person who sat behind a desk all day, or at least Callie thought she sat behind a desk all day. A small tattoo peeked out from the vicinity of her left breast, and Callie wanted to step closer to see what it was. Her left wrist bore a diver’s watch, and a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses dangled from the fingers of her right hand. She looked like she belonged on a beach. Her vague comment of going to Paradise Island a few times was pure bullshit.

  Callie unpacked her suitcase while Dillon did the same. They passed several times on their way to the bathroom or the closet and once reached for the same drawer handle on the dresser. In short order, two toothbrushes were on the bathroom sink, two bottles of shampoo in the shower, and they went in search of their hosts.

  Dillon had a difficult time putting one foot in front of the other. She couldn’t help but see a lot of lace in the clothes Callie put in the drawers. Was it her normal clothing or had she bought something special for this trip, anticipating they would become intimate? Either way, Dillon had a hard time concentrating on anything other than a glimpse of the panty line on Callie’s tight ass as she walked in front of her.

  A warm blast of tropical air hit Dillon’s face as they stepped out on to the patio. The sun was low in the sky, burning the horizon in shades of red and gold. The sunsets in the Bahamas were some of the most beautiful she had ever seen. Bill came forward, extending his hand.

  “Welcome, Dillon and Callie. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to meet you at the airport. A business crisis,” he added, looking at Dillon knowingly. “But I promise that’s the last time that topic will come up this weekend. We don’t talk shop in this house. It’s a promise I made to Phyllis early on in our marriage. I was working nonstop and we finally were able to get away for a few days. Phyllis made me swear I would never mention anything about the office here, and I’ve disappointed her only once.”

  What? Dillon was stunned. She expected to finalize the deal and had even carefully packed the papers in her suitcase. What in the hell was she going to do now? Fuck.

  “It’s been thirty years and the only time I broke that promise was right after the San Francisco earthquake back in 1989. I had a lot of property in the city.” Bill stopped, obviously realizing he was beginning to do exactly what he said he wouldn’t, and waved his hand as if to say, “Never mind.” “Anyway, ladies, we’re glad you could come down. Phyllis and I love this place. It’s so peaceful and unspoiled by tourists and technology. It’s where we reconnect with each other.” Bill winked at Dillon.

  Bill finally stopped talking long enough for Dillon to gather her wits and thank him again for inviting them to their home. Drinks were poured and Bill proposed a toast. “To three of the most intriguing women I know. May we all learn more a
bout each other in the coming days that will draw us closer together.” Phyllis clinked her glass first, with Dillon and Callie following.

  “Your house is charming, Phyllis,” Callie commented, settling in a chair to Dillon’s right.

  “We bought it when we didn’t have two nickels to rub together. We scrimped and saved for years afterward and almost had to sell it once or twice, but somehow we got through. I know it’s nothing compared to our house in Westwood, but this one suits us better. That one is more for show than anything else. Why in the world do we need seven bedrooms? It’s only Bill and I. Our children are grown and scattered all over the country.”

  “How many children do you have?”

  “Three, two boys and one girl,” Phyllis replied to Callie’s question. “All married to the same people they started out with, I’m proud to say. The divorce rate in this country is atrocious. Kids nowadays think it’s easier to get out of a marriage than to get into one. ‘Oops, we made a mistake,’ they say. ‘I don’t love you anymore’ and, poof, they’re divorced. The sad thing is they don’t think anything’s wrong with that.”

  “How about grandchildren?” Callie expected Phyllis to start rattling off the names of her grandkids. What she didn’t expect was the look of utter sadness that fell over both Phyllis and Bill’s face. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

  Bill was the first to speak up. He took Phyllis’s hand. “No, of course not. We have six grandchildren. Five grandsons and one granddaughter. She passed away eighteen months ago.”

  Even though Callie had no way of knowing about this tragedy, she felt like an idiot. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Their hosts tightened their grip on one another.

  “Thank you. Haley was a junior at Tulane studying fine arts. She was a bright, wonderful, talented child. We always said she would be the next Picasso.” Bill smiled as he described his granddaughter. “She was attacked outside her apartment by her neighbor when he realized she and Tammy were more than just roommates. He said he was called by God to save the institution of marriage. Haley and Tammy had been together for three years and were planning their wedding and had been profiled in the local newspaper. She died of her injuries three days after the attack.”

  Dillon laid her hand on Bill’s arm. “I’m so sorry, Bill. I can’t even imagine what you must have gone through, both of you,” Dillon added, looking over at Phyllis. That explained a few things. No wonder he had been so insistent that she bring a date to the party and invited them both here to this house. He wanted them to know he approved of their lifestyle.

  “Thank you, Dillon. It was a very difficult time for us. Haley had lived with us since she was seventeen. She and her mother didn’t get along.”

  Phyllis interrupted angrily. “Didn’t get along? When will you ever admit to yourself that Roxanne threw her own daughter out of the house? Our eldest son’s wife,” Phyllis added by way of explanation.

  “Phyl, we don’t need to talk about it now. We have guests.” Bill clearly tried to distract his wife’s attention, but it didn’t work.

  Phyllis turned to Dillon. “Do your parents know you’re a lesbian?”

  Dillon almost choked on her own saliva. No one had asked her that in more years than she could remember, and certainly not someone as old as Phyllis.

  “Yes,” Dillon replied cautiously. She and her mother never agreed on anything. In fact, her mother pretty much gave up on Dillon when she was in her early teens, but she and her father hadn’t disowned her. Even though Dillon wasn’t on the best of terms with them, she couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be cast out like that.

  Phyllis looked to Callie, who answered, “No.” When Callie saw Dillon’s head turn her way, she didn’t make eye contact.

  “May I ask why?”

  “My father is long gone, and my mother and I have fallen out of touch.” Callie hoped Phyllis wouldn’t ask anything else. She didn’t share her family history, or hysteria, as she called it, with people. Only her closest friends knew that her and Michael’s childhood was filled with the drama of a mother who was manic-depressive, heavy on the manic, and a father who went to work one day and never came home. She and Michael began taking care of each other at a very early age.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Phyllis replied sympathetically. “I just don’t understand how a mother could treat her own child like that.”

  Dillon could swear she heard a tsk, tsk in the comment somewhere. “It sounds like Haley was lucky to have grandparents like you.”

  “We were the lucky ones,” Bill said, resuming control of the conversation. “Now, enough of the melancholy. It’s a beautiful Paradise Island evening and I insist we enjoy it.”

  They settled into the lounge chairs on the patio, the sun just starting to set over the horizon. Dillon’s anger over the no-business edict had all but dissolved under the ugliness of the situation involving the Franklins’ granddaughter. Before long she was joining the conversation as they talked about their plans for the next three days. Bill pointed to the dock, barely visible in the waning light, where they could rent Jet Skis or sign up for parasailing.

  Dillon’s body warmed at the thought of riding in front of Callie on a Jet Ski, Callie’s arms around her waist as they bounced up and down in the clear water. Dillon got even warmer thinking about what Callie would look like in a bikini. She couldn’t wait to find out. But first, she had to get through the night.

  Chapter Nine

  What had Dillon said? They were both adults and could sleep in the same bed without involving sex? Callie’s body obviously did not get that memo. As soon as they started to climb the stairs, the butterflies in her stomach came alive and grew more agitated with each step. By the time she got to the top, she wasn’t sure she could even stand up.

  Phyllis and Bill had barbequed on the patio that evening and gave her and Dillon table-setting duty. They chatted easily throughout the meal but Callie sensed a guarded tension in Dillon. She didn’t know her well at all, but the movement of her jaw muscles and her tight grip on her fork clearly signaled that she was nervous. Fortunately the Franklins didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

  “You can use the bathroom first.” The voice behind Callie startled her. She had been staring at the bed the minute she opened the door. It dominated the room, almost daring her to fill it with passion.

  “Thanks.” She opened the dresser drawer and pulled out her night clothes, then grabbed the bundle and headed for the bathroom. “I won’t be long.”

  “Take your time,” Dillon replied. “As a matter of fact, take all night,” she added softly to the closed door that separated her from Callie. She practically fell onto the bed. She was a ball of nerves.

  The flight, sitting next to Callie, their arms brushing against each other, their legs vying for the limited legroom, had initiated the torture. Then seeing the one bed, followed by the lace and straps of Callie’s clothes, almost made her forget where she was and what type of business she actually intended to transact this weekend.

  Dillon had never been as acutely aware of another woman in her life. She wondered why. Maybe because Callie was untouchable, or at least because she had decided to keep her hands off Callie. Maybe the way her voice sounded with the accompaniment of the waves in the background or the way she laughed at Bill’s good-natured jokes. Maybe because she hadn’t had sex in months. Whatever caused this reaction, she was stretched as tight as a drumhead, and if she wasn’t careful, she would split. It would take only one word or touch from Callie or—

  The bathroom door opened and Callie stood framed in the doorway, wearing pale blue women’s boxer briefs and a matching blue tank top. The light was on, casting a warm silhouette around her. Dillon knew immediately that the lace around the trim of the pajamas was the lace she had glimpsed when they were unpacking.

  Callie’s legs were longer than she remembered, even though, like her, Callie had been in shorts all day. Her calves were perfectly formed, and her toenails were pain
ted a medium shade of pink. Smooth shoulders held the thin straps, and Dillon’s fingers tingled at the thought of what it would feel like to slide those straps slowly down Callie’s arms. Firm, tight breasts with just a hint of erect nipple jutted out in the right places. Dillon hoped her mouth wasn’t hanging open, but she didn’t care if it was.

  “It’s all yours,” Callie managed to say. The look on Dillon’s face was enough to erase the doubt she felt a minute ago and replace it with something much more powerful.

  When Callie had studied her reflection in the mirror behind the door, she wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing. She had brought two choices of sleepwear, this being the more provocative, and had grabbed it from the drawer without thinking. Other than that brief moment in the bar, Dillon hadn’t indicated she was sexually interested in her. She wasn’t sure what this weekend was all about. Was she here as Dillon’s date and they would become lovers, or had they both been trapped into being here? The instant she had opened the door and saw Dillon’s expression she knew what would happen.

  Dillon didn’t move, so Callie stepped into the room and dropped her clothes on the floor by her shoes, her back to Dillon. She felt rather than saw Dillon’s eyes on her, and her body flushed with arousal, nipples hardening under the soft silk. She took a deep breath and turned around.

  She was gone. Callie hadn’t heard her move, but the sound of the shower water hitting the curtain told her where Dillon was. Half disappointed and half relieved, she finished getting ready for bed. As she crawled under the covers on her side of the mattress, she imagined the hot water sliding over Dillon’s body not ten feet away.

  Hot water wasn’t sliding off Dillon’s body, but cold. Ice cold. She had never understood why people took a cold shower to kill their arousal. It only made her teeth chatter. And it did practically nothing for the fire in her belly that raged now. She wanted to make love to Callie. Wanted to make love to her until neither of them could keep her eyes open. Then she wanted to do it again.