by Radclyffe
Chapter Eighteen
When Ali wakened the next morning, her internal clock told her it was close to seven a.m. The amount of sunshine slanting through the east facing windows confirmed it. She never slept past six, and rarely so deeply. She hadn’t dreamed, not after the fractured dream about Sammy. The dream that ended with her waking up with Beau next to her. God, Beau.
With a rush of heat to the pit of her stomach she remembered falling asleep the night before while fantasizing about Beau and what she was doing in the other room. The warmth climbed into her chest and flooded her face. What had she been thinking? She’d practically accosted her. She didn’t even want to think about the number of times Beau had tried to say stop. She not only hadn’t listened, she’d proceeded to play with her until Beau was so wound up she’d had to… With a low groan, Ali threw her arm over her eyes, as if that would somehow erase the memory of Beau’s muffled moans. Just thinking about Beau being aroused and needing to come—because of her—made her instantly wet and aching. Jesus, she was completely out of control.
Carefully, she pushed herself upright and sat on the side of the bed, taking stock of her body. She needed to restore some order to her life, and her emotions would follow suit. She didn’t need to fall flat on her face. The entire left side of her face was swollen and the wound in her scalp pulled and twinged when she cautiously opened her mouth, but all of that was manageable. The headache persisted but was several orders of magnitude less intense than it had been the night before. Her stomach was still in revolt. Gripping the nightstand, she stood up. No dizziness. Her vision seemed fine. Nothing too serious, then. In another day she ought to be able to work.
With a sigh of relief, she headed for the bathroom. She needed another shower. She needed to wash Beau’s lingering scent from her skin and maybe then she’d be able to think clearly again.
*
Ali found Beau leaning against the counter in the kitchen, a mug of coffee in her hand. Her hair was wet and carelessly slicked back from her face, as if she’d finger combed it, and she wore a pair of Ali’s maroon scrubs that were a little too tight in the chest and thighs. Her eyes were contemplative as she watched Ali sit down at the table in the center of the room.
“Morning,” Ali said, feeling awkward and turned on all at once. When she’d seen the guest room was empty, she’d assumed Beau had gotten up early and left. The wave of disappointment that followed was so powerful she’d been stunned. Now here Beau was in the kitchen, looking all relaxed and sexy with her hard body displayed to perfection in a pair of her scrubs. God, was this clash of reason and libido why people avoided morning-after encounters?
“I noticed the stack of these in the closet in the guest room,” Beau said, fingering the front of the shirt. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“No, of course not.” Ali averted her eyes. She would not think of Beau pulling up the shirt, touching her bare skin, stroking lower…she absolutely would not. “I see you found the coffee. I think there are some bagels in the freezer if you want to try the microwave.”
“I’m okay with this,” Beau said, lifting her coffee cup. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.” Ali leaned back, folding her hands on the tabletop. “Much better. Thanks. You were a big help last night.”
Beau smiled crookedly. “Was I. Good.”
“Now would probably be a good time for me to apologize,” Ali said wryly.
“I thought you might.”
Ali frowned. “I’m sorry?”
“I thought you might regret what happened last night, but I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t come here for that reason. And I should have been the one to put the brakes on.”
“I can see we’re going to disagree on this.” Ali rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I was hardly impaired last night, Beau. I knew exactly what I was doing.”
“No argument there,” Beau said with a soft chuckle.
Ali felt herself blushing. She had never in her life had sex on the brain to the extent that she appeared to now. It helped not to look at Beau’s far-too-appealing face, so she kept her gaze on the window overlooking her back deck. “We’re both adults and there’s certainly no reason to make a big deal out of a moment’s indiscretion. But I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to take this any further.”
“Uh-huh.” Beau rinsed her coffee cup and turned it upside down in the sink.
“I don’t even mind if you collect your bet from Bobby,” Ali said. Maybe if she made light of the whole situation they could both just forget it. “I think our little episode qualifies as—”
“The bet actually stipulated a date, not a heavy make-out session,” Beau said conversationally. “So, technically speaking, I can’t collect.”
“Well, he doesn’t have to know the details,” Ali said irritably. She waved her hand in the air. Why was it so difficult to have a simple conversation with this woman? All she wanted to do was make it clear that she didn’t want to get any further involved. “And why are we even discussing some stupid bet?”
“Because you liked kissing me, and that worries you.”
Ali gaped at Beau, who’d moved next to her while she’d been pretending not to look at her. “You have got to be the most arrogant, egotistical, unbelievably—”
“Friday night. Seven o’clock.” Beau leaned down and softly, but quite definitely, kissed Ali on the mouth. “If you need me before then…for anything…call me. I programmed my number into your cell phone. It’s on the table by your front door. But don’t worry, I didn’t look at any of the other numbers.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I know,” Beau called over her shoulder as she walked through the house to collect her jacket. “Maybe that’s why you like kissing me.”
When the soft thud of the door closing signaled Beau’s departure, Ali remained at the table, trying to make sense of her jumbled feelings. The house was suddenly too quiet and too empty. She’d pulled on an old sweatshirt and a loose pair of jeans after her shower, and she rubbed her arms against an unexpected chill.
You liked kissing me, and that worries you.
Arrogant ass. Of course she liked kissing her. Who wouldn’t? She was gorgeous, with a sinful mouth and the most amazing body. She was exquisitely responsive, powerful, and passionate. Her arousal was the most arousing thing Ali had ever experienced. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead in the palm of her hand. Maybe she just needed to give herself a break. The last twenty-four hours had been a nightmare roller-coaster ride, starting with panic and pain at the hospital and ending with a nearly altered state of consciousness when she’d surrendered to completely foreign desires. Of course she wasn’t thinking clearly. That had nothing to do with kissing Beau Cross. And just because she wanted to keep her life on an even keel, without adding the complication of a woman who was guaranteed to create havoc, didn’t mean she was afraid.
If you weren’t so afraid of going after what you really wanted, you might be happy.
Sammy’s challenge taunted her. Sammy had been wrong, but of course Sammy couldn’t imagine waiting for anything she wanted. Ali had been going after what she wanted—she wanted the freedom and independence that a career could give her, and the satisfaction of doing something that mattered. Maybe she had avoided coming out to her parents because she wanted to prevent the drama such an announcement would create. She could wait to date girls until she wasn’t living at home anymore. She wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed when she realized she liked girls, but she also knew that having a lesbian daughter was not in her parents’ plans. Sammy had guessed she was a lesbian just about as soon as Ali figured it out. Sammy could always read her, even when others couldn’t. Beau was a lot like Sammy that way.
Ali shivered again. Beau was far too like Sammy in far too many ways. Ali’s fingertips tingled and she remembered the ridge of scar tissue bisecting Beau’s abdomen. She could hardly stand to think about Beau’s beautiful body being assaulted by a malignancy, by Beau’s y
oung dreams being shattered. What if she had a recurrence? Unlikely, Ali’s rational mind asserted. Devastating, Ali’s heart cried. And if that weren’t bad enough, Beau risked her life daily, even beyond the dangers inherent in her job. Everything about Beau screamed danger, and if she was going to see her again, she had to be very sure to keep her wits about her and her heart off-limits.
*
Beau caught the subway-surface car into West Philadelphia and headed to Jilly’s. Her home now. She needed the comfort of the familiar for a few hours before she reported for her tour. Walking out of Ali’s house like she hadn’t a care in the world had been hell, but she’d done it. Ali wanted her gone—that was plain to see. And she needed to be gone too—precisely because she’d wanted to stay so badly her gut ached. She wasn’t used to wanting a woman the way she wanted Ali. If that weren’t enough to twist her around, she’d told Ali about the Hodgkin’s. She never ever did that. She didn’t even know why.
I am so fucked.
When she let herself into the house, she heard movement upstairs.
“Jilly, it’s me!” She hung up her jacket on a hook just inside the door.
“I’ll be down in a second. Pour me some coffee?”
“On it.” Beau prepared two cups and, mug in hand, stood at the kitchen window looking out into the courtyard behind the house. Like almost all of the houses in the area, Jilly’s was an attached Victorian twin. Her backyard was separated from the house next door by an alley and from the adjoining twin by a wooden fence. A gray flagstone path led to a small garden bench in one corner. The azaleas and rhododendrons were winter-bare now. She pictured Jilly sitting out there in the summer, surrounded by greenery, perhaps reading on that bench. She couldn’t remember ever sitting still that long, anywhere. She raced through life, trying to absorb every bit of excitement and sensation. Sometimes she feared if she stopped running, it would all simply end.
“Beau?” Jilly said quietly from the doorway.
Beau worked up a smile as she turned to greet her sister. To her relief, Jilly looked better. The smudges of fatigue under her eyes were gone and her hair sparkled with copper highlights. Her hunter green suit made her eyes stand out even more dramatically than usual. “Morning. You look great.”
Jilly colored, her expression pleased. “You’re a charmer.”
“Yeah, that’s me,” Beau said wryly. “Your coffee’s on the counter. Kind of late to be going to work, isn’t it?”
“I had a conference call this morning, so I took it from home.” Jilly pulled out a chair at the table and sipped her coffee, her eyes studying Beau contemplatively.
“What?” Beau said.
“I’m trying to figure out how to phrase this without sounding like I’m mothering you.”
Beau laughed. “Oh boy. Just spit it out.”
“Since we’re going to be living together, I’d like to determine where the appropriate boundaries are.”
“Jilly, don’t lawyer me to death, please.”
Jilly smiled. “Last night is the first time since you’ve been living here that you didn’t come home. I knew you weren’t working, and I was worried about you.”
“Oh.” Beau wasn’t used to being worried over, not anymore. She’d seen to that by moving out of her parents’ house as soon as she was well enough to get a part-time job and live on her own. After two years of being the focus of her family’s worry and attention, she couldn’t take being watched all the time. She saw her parents and siblings for family dinners and during the summer for backyard barbecues, but she kept her private life private. Of all the people she didn’t want worrying about her, Jilly was probably the most important. “Damn. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry, sweetie. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re an adult and you have every right not to come home. I suppose I really shouldn’t worry, it’s just my nature.”
“I’ll try to remember to let you know if something comes up. I work a lot of last-minute extra shifts, so you can’t count on me coming home even when I say I will, though.”
“Were you working last night?”
Beau immediately pictured Ali naked in her arms and the instant flood of arousal was so strong she grit her teeth. “No. How much did you see about what happened at the hospital? I never saw the news clip.”
“They kept showing the same sequence over and over again—you know how they do that. It was only a few seconds, but I saw the SWAT team and you running toward someone lying on the floor.”
“That was Ali,” Beau said, her throat tight.
“Oh. My God. Dr. Torveau? Bobby’s doctor?”
Beau nodded. “A bullet grazed her.” She swallowed around the pain in her throat. “A head wound. Luckily, not too serious, but she needed to be watched.”
“So you stayed with her.”
“Yes.”
“That was really nice of you. How is she?”
“Better this morning. She just needs to rest for a couple of days.” Beau grimaced. “If she will. You know medical people make terrible patients.”
“You don’t look like you slept very much yourself,” Jilly said gently.
Beau hoped nothing showed in her face because she couldn’t help thinking about her night in the guest room. The orgasm hadn’t had its usual effect. She hadn’t fallen asleep right away. Instead, she’d lain as quietly as she could, straining to hear any sound from the bedroom across the hall. Her body had vibrated with a nearly irresistible compulsion to get up and go back to Ali’s bed. She’d broken into a light sweat thinking about holding Ali, kissing her again. She didn’t have to imagine anything more than that to get painfully excited, but she didn’t bother trying to relieve herself a second time. The result was barely worth the effort.
She had finally fallen asleep only to awaken at dawn, agitated and unsettled. Almost on autopilot, she had come again in the shower, barely registering the physical relief while she prepared herself for Ali’s reaction to their kiss of the night before. Their encounter had been a few moments out of time, the result of a terrifying experience that had left them both raw and vulnerable. She didn’t regret wanting Ali, didn’t regret needing to feel a connection to her, but she was pretty certain that Ali would. Ali had been the aggressor, and just thinking about the way Ali had handled her got her stoked all over again. She’d been surprised, very pleasantly surprised, but she bet Ali would want to discount what happened between them. Ali would probably hate letting Beau see any kind of need.
“Are you okay?” Jilly asked.
Beau started to give her automatic reply and then stopped. “Not really.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“I’m not sure what I’m doing yet. Probably making a big mistake.”
“Is it Dr. Torveau?”
Beau chewed on her lip. “Ali. Yeah, it’s her. I’ve really got a thing for her.”
“It doesn’t sound like that makes you happy.”
“I guess it should, shouldn’t it?” Beau ran a hand through her hair and rubbed the back of her neck. “Mostly it scares me. I know how to seduce women. I don’t know much about anything else.”
“How does she feel?”
“I don’t think she considers me the devil’s spawn anymore, so that’s progress.”
Jilly laughed. “You mean she hasn’t immediately fallen for your charm?”
“That would be an understatement. I’ve barely managed to get her to agree to a date.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing. That she’s immune to your considerable sex appeal.”
Beau frowned. “And how do you consider her busting my balls a good thing?”
“Because maybe if she doesn’t fall for your image, she’ll actually fall for you.”
“I’m not even sure what that means, Jilly,” Beau said quietly. “And I’m even less sure that I want it.”
“Is she the first woman who’s ever made you feel this way?”
“Yes.”
“That’s got
to mean something. You’ll figure it out.” Jilly got up, put her cup in the sink, and kissed Beau’s cheek. “Don’t be scared, sweetie. Just follow your instincts.”
“Thanks. Love you.” Beau gave Jilly a quick hug. She didn’t think her instincts were going to be too helpful, because right now they were mostly screaming for her to run.
Chapter Nineteen
Ali stared at the ceiling in her living room, praying for the return of her sanity. After an hour of only her own thoughts for company she was crawling out of her skin. She couldn’t read without making her headache worse, and the television was just so much annoying white noise. No matter where she directed her mind, it ricocheted back to the previous night, and Beau. When she tried to recall ever feeling quite the same way about a woman before, all she could come up with was Nadine Templeton, a girl for whom she’d had an undying and unrequited crush her senior year in high school. Petite, blond, somewhat helpless Nadine was nothing like Beau, but the constant craving, the obsessive fantasies, and the aching unremitting arousal seemed very much the same. How embarrassing, to be behaving like a seventeen-year-old at twice the age.
She grabbed her cell phone and speed-dialed Wynter.
“Thompson.”
“Hi, it’s me,” Ali said with relief. “How are things?”
“Hi. I would have called you already, but I thought you might be sleeping.”
“No, I’m awake and completely bored. How are you?”
“I want to go to work, but Pearce insisted I call in sick today. She stayed home and she’s waiting on me like I’m some kind of invalid.”
