by Julie Cannon
Callie’s body was flawless, at least what she had seen, which was just about everything. Her choice of sleepwear left little to the imagination, and what Dillon did imagine drove her into the position she was in now. Her hands were on the wall in front of her, the water hitting the back of her head and cascading down her back like daggers. She tried closing her eyes, but every time she did, the image of Callie standing in the doorway cautiously offering herself flashed in her mind like a neon sign.
Dillon fought for control. She told herself over and over that sex with Callie Sheffield would only complicate the situation. She was here for just one thing—to get Bill to sign the papers. The goddamn papers that had to stay in her suitcase for at least the next three days. Shit, what was she going to do? How could she get through three days with Callie? More pressing, how could she get through tonight with Callie sleeping in the same bed and wearing nothing but blue lace?
Callie heard the water shut off. Dillon would soon join her. Should she be sitting up waiting for her? Should she pretend to be asleep? Would Dillon make the first move? Should she? What if Dillon wasn’t interested? Sure, the look on her face telegraphed that she found Callie attractive, but that didn’t mean Dillon wanted to have sex with her. Did it? Callie wasn’t aggressive in bed and, if she admitted the truth to herself, she wasn’t that confident either. None of the women she had been with ever complained, nor had they climbed out of bed and left, but none rocked her world either, and she seriously doubted she rocked theirs.
The sounds of movement stopped and Callie held her breath. Finally the door opened and Dillon stepped out wearing nothing but a towel. Her hair was wet and several drops of water clung stubbornly to a few end strands. Neither of them moved. The sound of the crashing waves intensified as the seconds passed, and the tension hung in the air. They seemed to be the only two people in the world.
Finally Dillon stepped forward. “I forgot my pajamas,” she said, and lowered her head, feeling like a little girl. When Dillon had practically bolted into the bathroom she didn’t stop long enough to grab her own nightclothes from the drawer. She had agonized over her dilemma for several minutes behind the closed door before finally gathering her courage to turn the knob. She felt silly. She had been naked in front of hundreds of women in every situation ranging from the locker room to countless other bedrooms. Why she was shy now troubled her. And here she was standing in the middle of the room in a towel. A very short towel.
Determined to keep her nervousness to herself, Dillon walked to the dresser and pulled out a pair of cotton boxer shorts. She cringed when she saw the airplanes all over them, but they were a gift from her sister. She couldn’t backtrack so she lifted her chin and put first one foot, then the other into the unusual shorts. Then she pulled a soft, worn T-shirt over her head. There. I did it. I managed to get dressed without embarrassing myself any more than I already have.
With nothing else to do but hang up her towel and turn off the light, Dillon pulled back the covers on her side of the bed. She slid down, careful that her feet stayed on her side of the invisible dividing line and didn’t wander into Callie’s space and, worse yet, make contact with her. Mission accomplished, Dillon listened for the rhythmic cadence of Callie’s breath.
“Sleep well.” Callie’s voice pierced the air.
Dillon knew Callie wasn’t asleep, but the sound of her voice unsettled her anyway. “You too.” She couldn’t help but wonder if Callie had seen her less-than-beauty-pageant walk from the bathroom to the dresser. She was a sophisticated, successful woman. Why did she feel like a klutz? Less than a minute later she felt rather than heard Callie laugh.
“What is it?”
Callie burst into giggles. “Airplanes? I expected Calvin Klein, Hugo Boss, or Jockey, but not little airplanes on your underwear.”
“A gift from my sister. She said I take myself way too seriously. That I need to loosen up.” Dillon didn’t know whether to be relieved or mortified. At least Callie’s laughter had lessened the tension in the room.
“Do you? Take yourself too seriously, I mean, not loosen up, even though you fly around the world?” Callie rolled over on her back, breaking into another bout of giggling. The lights from the exterior landscaping were bleeding through the drapes, casting shadows across the ceiling.
“She seemed to think so, and to her that’s all that matters.”
“Do you have any other siblings?” Callie asked.
“Just my sister. I’m the oldest. Laura’s the baby. Totally spoiled.” After Dillon was born, her mom had three miscarriages before she finally had her sister, whom they gave practically everything from that point on. She was her dad’s favorite and very quickly became the girly-girl daughter her mother didn’t get in Dillon.
“Obviously she still is. I mean, she gave you those boxers, and the fact that you’re wearing them only reaffirms the fact that she still gets what she wants.” Callie giggled again.
“You weren’t supposed to see them.”
“Then why bring them?” Callie inhaled sharply, realizing her question implied that she would be seeing all of Dillon’s underwear. Her face flushed and she was glad for the cover of darkness.
“All my underwear are funky.”
Callie quickly rolled onto her side and propped her head in her hand. Dillon was on her back but it wasn’t so dark that Callie couldn’t see the expression on her face. “Funky?”
“I guess it’s my anti-establishment statement. If I were a man I’d wear wild ties. I choose to wear crazy underwear. Some women like to wear thongs or satin or black lacy things from Frederick’s of Hollywood. They think it makes them feel sexy. It’s not for me to say otherwise.”
“How does your underwear make you feel?”
Dillon turned on her side and steadily met her gaze, almost as if she admired her for asking such a bold question. Though, for an instant, Callie thought she might have gone too far.
“Like I’ve got a secret nobody knows about,” Dillon said mischievously.
“Your secret is safe with me.” When Dillon returned her smile Callie’s stomach jumped into her throat. Her pulse was pounding in her ears. She cupped Dillon’s face in her hand. The skin was cool but instantly turned warm on her palm. Dillon’s eyes went from dark to almost pitch black as her pupils dilated even more. Her breathing hitched and desire flared in her eyes. Callie had to kiss her. The voice in the back of her head was screaming at her to kiss Dillon and kiss her now. She licked her lips and bent her head.
Dillon couldn’t think and suddenly found it very difficult to breathe. As if in slow motion, Callie’s lips took forever to close the gap between them. When Callie hesitated a millimeter away, Dillon thought she would die if Callie didn’t kiss her. Warm breath caressed her lips, and finally the space that separated them disappeared. Dillon forgot the shock of being in such a submissive position when Callie expertly explored her lips. Her kisses were soft and tentative as she nibbled first on her top lip, then the bottom. By the time Callie fully tasted every inch, Dillon had wrapped her hands behind her neck and was pulling her closer.
Callie fought for control but wasn’t really sure why she should restrain herself. It was a warm, tropical night, the wind gently blowing the half-open curtains. A sensuous woman was lying next to her in bed kissing her deeply. Wasn’t this what movies were made of?
She didn’t know when she had gone from kissing Dillon to being under her, but she didn’t care. Dillon’s weight was comforting, not smothering like that of other lovers she had been with. Dillon’s hands roamed freely over her bare skin as she deepened the kiss. Callie wrapped her arms around Dillon’s shoulders in encouragement. Insistent hands traveled up and down her legs, drawing Callie deeper into the sensations.
Callie wasn’t about to be left out of the exploratory mission, so she eased her hands under Dillon’s shirt. Hard, tight muscles contracted as her fingers glided over Dillon’s womanly curves. She was on fire. Her body had been without the touch of a woma
n for so long, she was afraid she might spontaneously combust any moment. She felt alive for the first time in forever, and she didn’t want the feeling to end. She wanted to dissolve in sheer pleasure, she needed to escape into passion, and Dillon was offering her that opportunity now. She found the waistband of Dillon’s boxers and pulled them off. Unfortunately, as she tossed them over Dillon’s head the vision of giant red, green, and yellow airplanes soaring in the air struck her as hysterically funny. She started laughing and couldn’t stop.
At first, Dillon thought Callie was ticklish. She had been kissing and nibbling on her favorite place of a woman’s neck when she started laughing. She moved a little to the left and the laughing continued. Finally the pressure of hands pushing her away permeated her lust-filled brain and she lifted her head. Callie was looking at her with alarm in her eyes, but the hand over her mouth stifling her giggles told her something different. Dillon had been with many women, but none of them had found humor in her lovemaking techniques. Callie must have sensed her confusion because she quickly spoke.
“No, Dillon, it’s not you. I’m not laughing at you.” Callie pulled her down for a series of kisses, trying, Dillon supposed, to assuage her doubt. “It’s just that when your boxers…the airplanes…” Callie dissolved into another bout of near hysterics, covering her face with her hands.
Dillon rolled onto her back and threw her arm over her eyes. Never in her life had she encountered this response, and she had been involved in some pretty weird stuff between the sheets. “That was interesting. I’ll have to tell Laura to buy plain white next time.”
Callie started to snicker again and this time Dillon joined her. Then she commented dryly, “I guess the moment has passed.” The passion that had consumed her was back under control, her mind grateful for the interruption. She was not going to have sex with Callie. No, she was going to sleep with her, just not sleep with her. Already she was confused.
Callie was afraid she had insulted or humiliated Dillon, but she couldn’t help herself. She must have cracked under the stress of her life. But here? Now? If it weren’t so absurd it would be horrific. They started to giggle again and both tried to get the other to stop, trading “shh’s” and “stops” back and forth, which only caused more hooting and chuckling until finally the room grew quiet. They both lay on their backs, chests heaving from the exertion.
Feeling as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, Callie told herself that Dillon wanted her, no doubt about it. But she was right, the moment had passed. Callie was sure that if either of them even looked at the other, they would both be naked in a heartbeat, picking up where they left off. And this time they wouldn’t stop. For some reason, either side of that equation didn’t bother her. If Dillon made a move she wouldn’t stop her, but if she didn’t, she would sleep soundly, knowing Dillon was beside her. “I guess you’re right about that moment we lost. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t get the image out of my mind.” She fought down the tingle of laughter building inside her.
“Please, stop apologizing. It’s okay. I guess if the underwear were on the other foot, so to speak, I’d probably do the same thing. But I’m still going to speak to Laura.”
Callie was overwhelmingly relieved at Dillon’s sense of humor. She had been horrified at her loss of control and knew she would be lucky if Dillon didn’t put her on the next flight out of here. She couldn’t help one last jab. “I can’t wait to see what you’re wearing tomorrow.”
“Good night, Callie,” Dillon said sternly, with a trace of humor in her inflection.
“Good night, Captain.” Callie drifted off to sleep, smiling.
Chapter Ten
Dillon’s underwear of the day would have to wait because she was asleep when Callie woke. Carefully she lifted the sheet and peeked at Dillon’s naked body. Sometime during the night Dillon had discarded her T-shirt, which lay on the floor near her boxers. She was on her side, offering Callie a perfect view of her smooth, round ass. The distinct tan line at her waist showed that Dillon wasn’t totally bound behind her desk. Callie’s fingers itched to trace the smooth lines of her back, cross the rise of her hip, and disappear into the vee between her legs.
She wanted to wake Dillon with her fingers, her mouth, and her body, to lightly skim over the soft skin and feel Dillon’s muscles respond. She yearned to explore every inch of her and then do it again and again. She needed to either act on her desires or get out of bed now. A subtle cough from the next room quenched any further thought of morning entertainment. Callie certainly didn’t fancy the Franklins overhearing their lovemaking.
After watching Dillon for a few more minutes, she got up and went downstairs in search of the coffeepot. Bill was already sitting on the patio. “May I join you?”
“Of course you may. Please sit.” Bill motioned to a chair to his right. “I see you found the coffee,” he said, indicating the steaming cup that Callie grasped.
“Yes, thank you. I can’t function in the morning anymore without it. I’m not sure if it’s a bad habit or an addiction. Either way, I’m a grouch until I’ve had my first cup.” Callie leaned back in the lounge chair and put her feet up. It was early and the breeze blowing in from the ocean was still cool. The sun was warm on her face and the sky was cloudless. Bill respected her first-cup grouchiness and didn’t say a word. There was no need to fill the silence with conversation.
“Can I get you a refill?” Bill was looking at her expectantly.
“You don’t have to do that. I can do it myself.” She swung her legs off the chair to stand up.
“Nonsense, I’m getting some anyway. You stay put. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” He took her cup and disappeared into the house.
Jiffy? Callie couldn’t remember anyone using the word “jiffy” in ages. The Franklins were truly unpretentious.
She had enjoyed dinner last night. Bill and Phyllis were younger in heart and opinions than most people half their age. Not that she knew many older people, but those she did certainly didn’t act like the Franklins. The way they talked and asked questions about her childhood and family made her feel comfortable and at home. When she stumbled over a question that could have involved a discussion of Michael, they seemed to understand her hesitation and quickly moved on to another topic. Several times during the evening she wondered what her life would have been like if Bill and Phyllis had been her parents.
“I love it out here in the morning,” Bill said, setting her cup on the coaster. “I could sit here all day. As a matter of fact, some days that’s exactly what I do.”
“I can understand that. It’s beautiful.” Callie couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so relaxed. She had been here less than twenty-four hours, but she felt as if she’d always lived here. The sun was casting shadows on the beach, and she was surprised when she wished she had brought her paints with her. She hadn’t picked up a brush since the attack.
“I hope you slept well,” Bill said.
Callie thought she detected an element of teasing in his question and flushed as she remembered the passion and giggling of the night before. The house was small. Just how much had he and Phyllis heard? Anyone listening to the sounds emanating from their bedroom could very well have mistaken them for pillow talk and lovemaking.
“Very well, thank you,” was all she could manage to say. She tried to see Bill’s face out of the corner of her eye but it was angled away.
“Dillon is an interesting individual.”
Bill’s statement was more of an opening for conversation about Dillon than an observation. Callie trod carefully. “Yes, she is.”
“She’s too intense, a classic Type A. Workaholic, driven to success, always on the go, even when she’s asleep. She needs to learn to relax. Life will pass by her without her knowing when it happened.”
This time Callie did turn to look at Bill. It sounded like he was speaking about himself, and she asked him if it was so.
“Yes. I was too busy when my kids were growing up. I
can barely remember going to one of my sons’ baseball or football games. Haley’s mom was the homecoming queen and I was in Europe that night. I missed a lot of their formative years. I thank God every day for Phyllis. She’s the glue that held our family together. Still does, as a matter of fact. I don’t know where I’d be without her. Actually I do know where I’d be—slinging hash at the VA hospital without a dime to my name and a dozen kids scattered around the country.”
Callie laughed at his description. “I bet you had something to do with all of this.” Callie waved her hands around her.
“Nah, I just wrote the check. Phyllis is the one that cashed it.” Bill sipped his coffee for a few minutes before he continued. “I see a lot of me in Dillon.”
“Really? Phyllis said the same thing at the dinner party. Called her a scoundrel.” Callie thought this a good way to learn more about her weekend date.
Bill laughed. “Did she now? She used to call me that before I settled down and we got married. Then Dillon’s definitely a lot like I was when I was younger. She’s strong, impulsive, cautiously reckless, and very successful.”
“You seem to have done your research.” The items Bill listed were certainly more than she could say about her roommate.
“I’m a businessman. I know about the people I’m dealing with.”
Callie detected a sense of sadness in his voice. “And do you like what you see in Dillon?”
Bill turned in his chair and met her look head-on. “I’m not sure yet.”
Callie was surprised at the honesty of Bill’s confession. He had to know she would repeat his opinion to Dillon. He was either very wise or very careless. She doubted it was the latter.
“Not sure about what, dear?” Phyllis’s strong voice entered the conversation.
