Just Business

by Julie Cannon

  Callie dropped the flowers she was arranging, grabbed her keys, and ran out the door. When she reached the courtroom, it was practically empty. She sat on the hard bench behind Michael with the family of the man he’d killed on the other side. It struck her that the seating arrangements were nearly identical to those at a wedding. The family of the defendant on one side, the victim on the other.

  A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Dillon was sliding into the row wearing a hurried look and a warm smile.

  “Ross called,” Dillon said to her unasked question. “He said you took off out of the shop like a bat out of hell, and it could only be one thing. I’ll leave if you don’t want me here. I got here as soon as I could. I’m glad I was in time.” During the four days the jury had deliberated, Dillon had not asked if she wanted her to be there when the verdict was read, but obviously Dillon wanted to be here for her.

  “Thank you.” Callie took Dillon’s hand. It was warm and strong, and she hung on to it like it was a lifeline.

  Callie jumped when the judge banged his gavel. Dillon covered her hand with her free one and scooted closer. The preliminaries over, Callie held her breath when the judge asked Michael to rise as the jury read their verdict.

  *

  Dillon heard a sound behind her, and when she turned around, her world stopped. Callie stood in the doorway of the living room sheathed in a black dress that was almost like a second skin. The neckline plunged, revealing more than a hint of cleavage where Dillon had paused so long ago and nibbled on her way from Callie’s smooth neck to parts farther south. The bodice of the dress supported her full breasts and fell straight to the hem. The entire dress was held up by two straps so thin Dillon was afraid they would break under the weight of the dress. Sheer black nylons covered her legs.

  Dillon heard nothing but the banging of her heart against her chest, her breath rattling through tight lungs beneath her starched shirt. Her mind went blank and she stood there unable to move. Callie was absolutely beautiful.

  They were dressed for the art museum opening Dillon had mentioned a few weeks ago. Dillon hadn’t wanted to go but Callie had insisted. She wanted to celebrate. Michael had been found not guilty and was due to be released as soon as the paperwork was processed.

  Callie barely remembered what happened in the courtroom when the verdict was read. All she recalled were the two words that she would never forget. Dillon told her that she had practically fainted with relief and then jumped up and hugged Michael, tears streaming down both their faces. Dillon thanked Nixon and shook his hand before the attorney grabbed his briefcase, muttered something to Michael, and walked out of the courtroom. It was only later that afternoon that Callie calmed down enough to remember the museum opening was that night.

  She felt fabulous, and the look in Dillon’s eyes made her feel desired. Dillon was not even trying to mask how much she wanted her, her eyes raking over her body several times. Callie noticed a faint blush to Dillon’s neck just above her collar, and her chest moved in shallow breaths. If she didn’t know Dillon, she would be frightened by the look of hunger in her eyes. As it was, her own heart was pounding, and the pulse point between her legs was beating the strongest.

  Dillon didn’t know how long she stood there gaping at Callie like a schoolboy, but she finally found her voice. “You look wonderful.”

  She had no idea how she would possibly get through the evening with Callie looking like that and her feeling like this. She ached for Callie. Her fingers tingled as she relived the feel of Callie’s soft skin, her palms cupping the weight of her breasts. She wanted to gather Callie in her arms and simply kiss her until the sun came up.

  Dillon took a step forward and stopped when she realized that was exactly what she was about to do. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She had made an agreement with Callie, and she would prove she was true to her word.

  But as of this morning, their agreement was no longer valid. Michael would be released and Callie would leave. As much as Dillon wanted her, needed her, yearned for her, she had to wait for Callie to come to her. It would be the only way she could really have her.

  Callie was surprised when Dillon stopped a few steps in front of her. Dillon had been nearing her and Callie’s pulse had increased in anticipation. Now a pang of disappointment rang through her when Dillon stopped. She’d felt alive in Dillon’s arms, and she wanted to feel that way again. But she didn’t have the nerve to swallow her pride and step into them.

  “Thank you. You look very nice yourself,” Callie finally replied. Dillon had chosen a plum-colored silk suit that was so dark it could pass for black. The white tuxedo shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, exposed the pulsing vein in her neck. Callie held her breath. Her senses, already on high alert just from being near Dillon, were now on overload. Dillon’s breath caressed her ear.

  “Thanks. Personally I think it’s just an excuse for everybody to get dressed up and try to impress each other with their fancy clothes and jewels.” Dillon thought she felt herself smile, or at least produce the hint of a smile. “And speaking of jewels, don’t go away.”

  Dillon hurried into the other room and returned carrying a dark blue box. Stepping behind Callie, she lifted the sapphire necklace she had bought in Montreal from its silk bed and caught her and Callie’s reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. Their eyes locked as she placed the vibrant stone against Callie’s smooth neck. The familiar scent of Callie’s perfume hung in the air around them and Dillon drank it in. Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t get the delicate clasp closed and had to drag her eyes away from Callie’s to secure the two ends. Her heart was beating hard in her chest when she returned her gaze to the mirror.

  Callie was looking at her the way she had when they stood side by side at the altar. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Dillon’s breathing matched the shallow rise and fall of Callie’s chest, which was accentuated by the glimmering gemstone. Their eyes held and she couldn’t speak for a minute.

  “You look beautiful.” It was a simple statement, but filled with honest sentiment.

  “Dillon, it’s lovely,” Callie replied, her fingers caressing the chain. “You shouldn’t have.”

  Callie’s voice was breathy and chills scampered up and down Dillon’s spine. “I saw it and immediately thought of you. I knew it would look stunning on you.” Dillon’s hands rested on Callie’s shoulders where they had landed after she closed the clasp. Unable to fight the urge to caress the bare skin under her fingertips, she let her hands drop and stepped back, trying to regain control of her emotions.

  In control. That was an interesting concept these days. The only thing in control was Callie’s grip on her heart. Her body couldn’t forget their kiss in the garage, and Dillon didn’t know if she could physically handle another situation with the same ending.

  The reception was well under way when they arrived. A red carpet led the way to the front door, and camera flashes popped as Dillon led Callie toward the ornate doors. Callie’s hand was in the crook of her arm, and Dillon stopped just before they stepped inside. She leaned down, her lips close to Callie’s ear.

  “Ready?” When Callie nodded, Dillon moved even closer, indulging herself for just a moment in Callie’s fresh, clean scent. She moved her head back enough to gaze into Callie’s eyes. “You are going to be the most beautiful woman in the room.” Callie’s eyes sparkled, and what Dillon saw deep in her eyes made her add, “Don’t forget, I love you and you have to pretend that you love me.” Dillon ended her sentence by placing a tender, lingering kiss on Callie’s lips.

  Callie practically jumped out of her skin when Dillon kissed her. Instinctively her free hand found its way to the back of Dillon’s neck. Dillon started to withdraw, and Callie held Dillon’s lips against hers for a moment longer. When she finally released her, they were both breathing heavily. A flood of emotions tore through Callie. She was confused. She should be appalled by Dillon’s kiss, by the mere fact that she had to
be near her, let alone allow her to fawn all over her and kiss her whenever she pleased. But she wasn’t. Callie couldn’t get close enough to Dillon. Couldn’t have enough of her kisses. She was ashamed at her reaction to someone who had treated her as badly and with as much disrespect as Dillon had. But she wasn’t too ashamed to not want to be intimate with her again.

  Dillon straightened with a hint of her former confidence and hesitated, as if waiting for Callie to say something. But when she didn’t, Dillon said, “Shall we?” They stepped inside.

  Callie clung to Dillon’s arm not out of fear but for strength. Dillon’s kiss had made her legs weak, and the tenderness in her eyes made her dizzy. If Dillon wanted she could take her right here, right now in front of everybody, and Callie would let her. She was out of control and somehow had to pull it together before she made a fool of herself.

  Dillon led her to the bar, stopping to talk to several dignitaries and museum patrons along the way. Callie saw very few familiar faces, and she detected something different in Dillon’s voice when she introduced her as her wife. Dillon had called Callie her wife many times before and after she discovered Dillon’s ruse, but tonight she said it with a lilt and inflection that had never been there before. Dillon’s rhythmic words warmed the blood in her veins every time she heard them.

  “Dance with me?”

  Dillon’s question was phrased in such a way that it sounded more like a plea than a request. Callie knew she was fighting with fire, but she could no more refuse Dillon this request than she could stop thinking about her.

  They glided onto the dance floor and Callie slid easily into Dillon’s embrace. Dillon’s hands shook and Callie had to force herself to concentrate on the steps of the dance when all she really wanted to do was stand perfectly still and memorize the feel of Dillon’s arms around her. The dance floor was suddenly crowded and Callie silently thanked God for her intervention. It was perfectly acceptable for Dillon to slow her steps to practically nothing in order to mesh with the other dancers doing the same.

  Dillon whispered for Callie to relax. But how in the hell was she supposed to relax when her heart was racing like a thoroughbred? She wanted every inch of Dillon’s body against hers. She was both afraid and hopeful that Dillon would slide her strong leg between hers. Dillon’s hands traveled up and down Callie’s back, stopping just shy of inappropriateness for such a gathering. Nobody seemed to mind that two women were dancing together, and when the song ended she stepped out of Dillon’s arms.

  “I need something to drink. Preferably something short and cold.” Callie snickered at her own words. She had held something tall and hot in her hands just a minute ago, and she had let go. Make up your mind, girl.

  “Care to share?” Dillon asked, grinning.

  Callie stumbled for a witty reply but came up empty. “Not really, no. I don’t think you’d find it nearly as amusing as I do.”

  Dillon took Callie’s hand and nabbed a passing waiter, snagging two glasses of champagne. “Try me. You might be surprised.”

  Callie suddenly looked at Dillon and felt as if she were seeing her for the first time. Something Dillon had said earlier rushed back to her, something about how Callie was the one who had to pretend they were in love. She had pondered the statement once, but it hadn’t totally clicked then. It did now, though, and the realization was as loud as the ticking of a grandfather clock. Did that mean Dillon didn’t have to pretend?

  Speculation danced in her head. What if Dillon did love her? What if sometime during this three-act play Dillon had fallen in love with her? What would she do and, most importantly, how would she know? Could she trust Dillon? Could she trust herself? She had already proved herself inept in that department. The thought terrified her.

  Callie took her drink from Dillon and their fingers touched slightly. She stared at Dillon and met dark pools already gazing at her. Callie’s knees threatened to buckle when Dillon looked away.

  “Here comes Phil Privett, the president of the Tillman Club. He’s been trying to trap me into becoming a member for years. Oh, man, who’s that child hanging all over him? It certainly is not his wife.”

  Callie watched Dillon make nice to Privett and his squeeze, who Callie guessed was barely legal, let alone old enough for the beer in her hand. As Dillon feared, he tried several different ways to pin her down to join the group he referred to as the “movers and shakers of the community.” Dillon expertly evaded his every attempt, and he finally took his girlfriend and left.

  Many other people clamored for Dillon’s attention, and Callie had very little time alone with her for the rest of the evening. She was disappointed because now that she suspected Dillon felt more for her than she admitted, Callie wanted to study her. She wanted to dissect Dillon’s facial expressions when she talked to her, to determine whether her hands trembled or her muscles tensed when Callie touched her. All of these subtle signs would tell her if Dillon was really in love. But Callie needed to pay attention to the conversation and Dillon at the same time. She found the first a bore and the second a challenge.

  “You haven’t mentioned anything about Gateway in a while. Why not?”

  “I haven’t?” Dillon asked, feigning confusion.

  “You know you haven’t.”

  Callie had passed on Bill’s message, but Dillon had hemmed and hawed, trying to put Callie off by claiming she would look into the escrow situation. She had never said anything else about it because she wanted to forget that shameful part of her past.

  “No. I haven’t.”

  “Don’t you want the deal to close?”

  Dillon didn’t answer. Instead she glanced around the room looking for an escape.

  “Don’t you?”

  Dillon frowned at Callie’s persistence. She wondered why it was so important to her. It was one of the threads that held them together, and as soon as she signed the papers the county clerk would stamp them as filed and the thin strand would break. That was another reason she hadn’t.

  “No. I guess it’s not as important as I once thought it was.”

  Dillon looked at Callie standing beside her. She had been in this position all evening, and it felt good. She was proud of the way Callie had conducted herself at the trial and at the public functions where she accompanied Dillon. She was overcome with a sense of sadness at the knowledge it would all soon end.

  Before another person could come up to her, Dillon swept Callie back onto the dance floor and changed the subject. “Sorry about all the attention. I don’t get out much to these kinds of things and now I know why.” She quirked her mouth.

  “You seem to be the belle of the ball,” Callie replied, melting into Dillon’s arms.

  Dillon chuckled. “Hardly. They just use me as an excuse to get closer to you. I said you would be the most beautiful woman here, and you are.” Dillon wished there was another way to convince Callie just how lovely she was.

  “I think not.”

  Dillon leaned back enough to see Callie’s face. Their lower bodies were still touching, and the arching of her back pressed them even closer. “You need to get out more, my dear. Every man in the room has had his eye on you at one time or another this evening.”

  “And you’ve been strutting around like a peacock because of it,” Callie teased.

  “I didn’t think you noticed.” Dillon waited a second or two to let her comment sink in. “Do you blame me? With you as my wife, everybody wants to be me. That’s a heady, powerful feeling.”

  Callie playfully slapped Dillon’s arm. “Don’t let it go to your head, Ms. Matthews.”

  Dillon laughed, enjoying their light banter. They hadn’t talked like this in ages. She was relaxed and felt like they were gliding across the dance floor. “I’m sure you’ll keep me in line, Mrs. Matthews. After all, isn’t that what wives are for?”

  “Is that what you want your wife to do? Keep you in line?”

  “No,” Dillon answered simply and seriously.

  “What do
you want?” Callie asked, not sure if she was ready for the answer. Dillon looked at her as if trying to decide if her question was serious or not. She seemed to make a decision.

  “I want a woman who loves me. Not my money, or my reputation, or the things I can give her. Someone who wants to build a life with me. I want a woman who will stand behind me when I need support, in front of me when I don’t know where I’m going, and beside me all the time. I want her to hold my head when I’m sick and kick my butt when I need it. I want her to be crazy about me when I deserve it, and angry at me and able to forgive me when I do something stupid.”

  The music played in the background, but Callie didn’t hear anything but the words flowing from Dillon’s lips. She had never heard anything so simple yet poetic. That was exactly what she wanted in a partner as well, and what she wanted to be to someone. Dillon amazed her. She had far deeper emotions than people gave her credit for. More and more, Callie had discovered these sensitive little pieces of Dillon, and she liked what she saw.

  “Anybody meet those requirements?”

  Dillon inhaled sharply. “Not recently.”

  Callie’s stomach jumped into her throat. Could it be? “Then someone earlier?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Anyone I know?” Callie was stepping out on a very shaky limb. She was risking everything if she had misjudged Dillon again, but the entire nightmare with Michael had taught her one very important thing—to live every day as if it were her last. She would never again pass up the opportunity to tell someone she loved them.

  “I’m not sure. She has definitely changed in the time I’ve known her.”

  “How so?” Callie wanted to know what Dillon thought of her.

  “Well, let’s see.” Dillon stopped and looked deep into her eyes. “She is much stronger than she was when we first met.” She ran her fingers through Callie’s hair, the strands falling through her fingers. “Her hair is a little longer.” She caressed Callie’s cheek with the back of her trembling fingers. “Her eyes sparkle more, especially today. And she is more beautiful now than when I first saw her sitting on a bar stool nursing a light beer.”