“I had a horse named Molly once,” Sarah said, her tone wistful.
“So did I,” Brady said.
“You had a horse?” CJ stared at her.
“A polo pony. She lived at the stables so I didn’t see her much, especially after I left for school. But I rode her every week for years.”
“You played polo?” Kate asked. “Honestly?”
Brady shrugged. “Everyone back home played.”
CJ wanted to ask if Nate played too, but she didn’t want to remind Brady of the letter she’d penned. She hadn’t received a response from Nate yet and didn’t expect to for another week, at the earliest. Even if her letter had gone by air, it still had to reach Nate’s assigned post station, be censored, get transferred to microfilm, cross the ocean, arrive at the receiving station and be reproduced, sorted and (finally) delivered to Nate’s unit. American troops in Italy weren’t currently on the move, much to the disappointment of the Allied command in the ETO, which meant Nate’s mail would find him more easily. But it was more likely that the letter would travel from its New York APO to the correct Italian receiving station by ship, and even the fastest ship took a week to cross the Atlantic. More than likely, Nate wouldn’t receive word that Brady didn’t want to marry him until sometime next week or after.
Not that CJ had spent much time thinking about the letter’s overseas journey.
Seated beside her on the narrow wooden bench, Brady leaned into CJ, smiling. She promptly pushed V-mail shipments from her mind and returned instead to the warm Mexican sun and the company of some of her favorite women in the world. Her first trip to a country other than Canada and her first horse race warranted notice. The other possible first that awaited her, mere hours away now instead of the days she’d been counting down, made her mouth dry. Nervous or not, she would soon find herself alone again in a hotel room with Brady Buchanan. This time, she was pretty sure the first thing she would notice would be the bed.
Toby and Reggie slid in beside them just before the colorfully decorated horses and their riders entered the starting gate.
“Everyone has to cheer for Wacky Hooch!” Reggie announced, grinning.
“Wacky or WAC-y?” Sarah asked, and they all laughed.
Then the starter pistol rang out, the gates shot up and the horses were off.
“Go, Wacky Hooch!” CJ called.
Beside her, Brady shouted encouragement. They paused, smiling at each other, and then refocused on the track, where Wacky was running dead center of the pack. Middle was better than last, CJ thought, and then she forgot to think as Brady’s hand found hers.
In what seemed like no time, the horses were rounding the turn and clattering into the home stretch. Wacky was gaining, and the six Wacs jumped to their feet almost as one to cheer their horse on, heedless of nearby track goers who were more interested in the novelty of a group of American women in uniform than in the race unfolding below.
* * *
As it turned out, the view was the first thing CJ noticed after they returned to El Paso and checked into their hotel room. Or rather, their rooms. Brady knew someone who knew someone, which meant that while the rest of their party occupied average-sized quarters on the hotel’s second floor, Brady and CJ were shown to a suite on the fifteenth floor.
As Brady tipped the bellboy and closed the door behind him, CJ crossed to the wall of windows in the suite’s living area, gazing out over the city’s north side toward Fort Bliss and the Franklin Range, both tinged sunset pink. The Hilton was the tallest building in the city, but CJ was amazed to discover that she could see all the way to the white-peaked Sacramento Mountains. Somewhere up there was Cloudcroft, tucked in among the forests and canyons.
“What do you think?” Brady asked, coming to a stop out of reach. She clasped her hands before her. “Do our accommodations meet with your approval, miss?” Her tone was light, but CJ noticed that her knuckles were white.
Could Brady be as nervous as she was? The thought gave CJ the nerve that had failed her earlier when Brady had reached for her hand in the elevator. She had shaken her head at Brady, nodding at the bellboy’s back. In return, Brady had leaned against the elevator’s rear wall, arms folded across her chest.
Now CJ reached for Brady’s hands and gently pulled them apart. She wove their fingers together, tugging her closer until their hips met. Then she pressed Brady’s arms to her sides and leaned forward until their lips were mere centimeters apart.
“The accommodations are more than serviceable.” She waited, eyes on Brady’s lips, dimly aware of the lights of El Paso flicking on below them as winter twilight fell early across the city.
Finally Brady made a sound low in her throat and narrowed the remaining distance, capturing CJ’s mouth with her own. Her lips were insistent, but CJ kissed her slowly, languidly, still holding Brady’s arms at her sides. There was no hurry. Tonight they had all the time in the world. There would be no bed check, no snoring neighbors, no morning reveille or breakfast mess. Tonight they would be alone in this suite of rooms with doors that locked, a fire flickering in the fireplace and a bottle of champagne chilling on the glass-topped dining table.
At that moment, a banging sounded at the door, and CJ heard Reggie’s unmistakable voice calling, “Fort Bliss Military Police! Open up in there!”
Really, that wasn’t funny, CJ thought, pulling away from Brady to scowl at the door.
“Your friends have lousy timing,” Brady said, touching her hair.
“So now they’re my friends?”
“They always were,” Brady said, moving to open the door, a smile pinned to her face. “Come right in, Mr. MP. We weren’t doing anything wrong.”
“I’m sure,” Reggie said archly as she and the others filed into the room. And then her eyes widened. “Holy moly, CJ. What’d you do to deserve the special treatment?”
“Nothing,” Brady said, her eyes on CJ. “Yet.”
CJ felt her cheeks flame as her friends bit back smiles and looked any place but at her.
“Say,” Sarah said, moving toward the window, “can you see the alligator pool from up here?”
The others crowded around the window, oohing and aahing at the expansive view. Sure enough, they decided, it was barely possible to make out the shadows of the handful of alligators that lived in a fenced-off pond in San Jacinto Plaza, nicknamed La Plaza de los Lagartos for the tourist attraction that had been around since the 1880s. By the time Sarah’s timely inquiry had been answered, CJ had recovered from her brief bout of mortification. She wouldn’t look at Brady, though, as they left the suite and piled into the elevator, headed out on the town for supper.
Fitting six adults into a cab was difficult, but they managed. Reggie and Sarah rode up front with the driver, while the two couples squeezed in together in back. Brady held CJ’s hand, and by the time they reached Ashley’s, a Mexican restaurant north of downtown, she’d given up all pretense of displeasure. How could she feel anything other than happiness when they were together?
Jack and Sam were waiting when they arrived. Sarah actually squealed, a sound CJ had never expected to hear from the usually reserved, level-headed mechanic.
“I thought you couldn’t get away tonight?” she said, her arms around Jack’s neck in a rare public display of affection.
“We have to be back for bed check, but Mac took my detail. He said he couldn’t stand the moping,” Jack said, leaning down to kiss her.
“Looks like it’s me and you, Meatball,” Sam said, corralling Reggie around the neck.
Reggie shrugged and slipped her arm around his waist. “When in Rome…”
Ashley’s was popular with the Fort Bliss crowd for its tacos and enchiladas. They had to wait for seating together, sipping margaritas and sangria at the bar, but at last they were able to push two tables together. A harried waiter took their order and practically slung their food at them when it arrived, but CJ felt sorry for him. Then again, his tips on this one night would probably amount to
more than her weekly pay. Privates didn’t make much in Uncle Sam’s employ.
At one point, CJ thought she saw Janice picking her way through the crowded tables. But then a lanky GI well on his way to inebriation stumbled into their table, and CJ lost the Janice-look-alike in the crowd. Not that it mattered if Janice knew Brady and CJ were out with the rest of the D-lites. They had been off-post together before. Nothing was particularly different about this weekend.
Except that everything was different, of course. Brady was laughing at something Kate had said, but as if she felt CJ’s gaze on her, she glanced across the narrow wooden tabletop. Their eyes caught and held, and CJ felt warmth flowing through her body, flushing her skin. Everything had changed. All anyone would have to do was look at them to know.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Brady asked, her voice low.
CJ nodded quickly. Did she ever.
They rose, dropping money on the table to cover their mostly uneaten meals.
“Wait a minute,” Reggie started, but Toby elbowed her.
“Hope your headache feels better,” Kate said, smiling up at Brady.
“Thanks,” Brady said after a pause, her own smile slow. “I’m sure it will.”
As she and CJ wove through the crowd arm in arm, CJ heard Jack ask why she was leaving if Brady was the one with the headache.
“Not that kind of headache,” Sarah said.
CJ glanced back and saw Jack’s eyes widen in comprehension. Crap, there went her secret. Would he write Sean and tell him? Would Sean inform everyone they knew that the Army had turned her queer? If they did, she didn’t care, she told herself as she and Brady hustled out of the restaurant and headed for a taxi stand a few blocks away. She was lucky to have Brady, and she knew it. She wouldn’t mind if everyone knew. Well, everyone except her family, of course. And the Army. And maybe some of her friends back in Kalamazoo.
Before the old doubts could set in, she slipped her hand into Brady’s and tugged. “Come on,” she said, racing down the sidewalk. “I’ve heard exercise cures headaches.”
Brady laughed and followed her.
They were back at the hotel in no time, riding up the elevator with the same bellboy who watched them out of the corner of his eye as the car slowly climbed to the top of El Paso’s tallest building. Brady and CJ behaved, standing a full foot apart the whole time, but in the mirror of the polished metal doors, CJ could see the way their bodies angled toward each other as if connected by invisible ties.
As soon as the elevator doors dinged closed behind them, Brady caught her hand and backed down the wide hallway toward their corner suite, kissing CJ as they went. She didn’t pull away this time, but leaned into the embrace and guided Brady ahead of her. No one was around, which was good because the margarita she’d had while waiting for the food she hadn’t eaten had officially gone to her head. She wasn’t sure she would have been able to stop kissing Brady even if MPs had materialized at the other end of the hall.
Brady fumbled with the lock on the door, and then they were falling into the suite and hastily slamming the door behind them. Kicking out of her brown pumps, Brady turned and pushed her against the door.
“God, CJ,” she murmured, “I’ve been waiting to do this for so long.”
“So have I.”
And then they were kissing again, the door solid against her back supporting her as her hands slid to Brady’s waist, investigating the curve of her body beneath her uniform jacket. She felt so good, CJ didn’t want to stop what they were doing, not ever.
When Brady broke contact finally, CJ tried to hold on. But Brady backed away, smiling seductively. “Come with me.”
Heart thundering, CJ followed her into the bedroom. The suite occupied the northwest corner of the fifteenth floor, with the living area looking out over north El Paso and the bedroom’s wall of windows facing west. The sun had long since set, and the new moon was impossible to see in the dark mantle of stars that stretched to the horizon. Brady led her to the bed and then turned away, disappearing into the bathroom. CJ stepped out of her own low heels as she heard a match strike. When Brady returned, her face was lit by a flickering candle. She set the candle on the bedside table and turned back to CJ.
As she watched, Brady unbuttoned her uniform jacket and cast it to the floor. She reached for her WAC tie, but before she could loosen it, CJ stilled her hands. “Let me.”
In the dim light, she could see Brady watching her as she tugged the tie free and started on her shirt; could see, too, Brady’s bottom lip caught between even teeth as CJ’s hands slipped beneath her open shirt and pressed the cloth away, sending it to the floor. Swallowing hard, she reached for the clasp on Brady’s skirt, and soon Brady stood before her, a pale goddess glowing in candlelight.
Brady leaned forward and whispered, “My turn,” her breath raising goose bumps on the sensitive curve of CJ’s neck.
Slowly, Brady unfastened her jacket. When it too had fallen, she grasped CJ’s tie and pulled her forward for a quick, hard kiss. CJ’s legs almost buckled, but she held to Brady’s waist, enjoying the feel of her warm, supple skin.
Brady started to melt into CJ’s touch. But then she stopped, shaking her head a little. “Not yet,” she said, and CJ could see her frown adorably in concentration as she set to work on first her shirt buttons and then her skirt zipper.
CJ felt the military-issue cloth slip down her thighs and calves and kicked it away. Like Brady, she stood nearly naked in purposely un-GI underclothing. Instead of the WAC-issued khaki rayon slip and fitted knickers, Brady wore a pale green silk bra trimmed with lace and a matching panty-slip, while CJ wore a short white rayon slip and matching briefs. Neither wore stockings, which meant that when CJ reached out and pulled Brady against her, she felt Brady’s bare legs intertwine with hers, just like in Cloudcroft. But now they were both wide awake and gazing into each other’s eyes.
Brady tugged the straps of CJ’s slip over her shoulders. When CJ tensed, she paused. “Is this okay?”
“Of course,” CJ said determinedly, glad her body was in shadows. She and Sean had only ever been intimate with the lights out. But she wanted to see Brady, so she would have to get used to the idea of Brady seeing her too.
Soon the rest of their clothes lay on the floor around them.
“Kiss me,” Brady whispered, wrapping her arms around CJ’s neck. “Please.”
And then they were falling onto the queen-sized bed, arms around each other and mouths pressed feverishly together. CJ couldn’t help noticing how soft Brady was, how smooth her skin felt, so different from Sean’s coarser limbs. She hadn’t known holding a woman would feel so perfectly right. She kissed Brady as if she were starved for her, and in a way she was. Ever since Cloudcroft she had wanted this—to run her hands along the contours of Brady’s body, learning her dips and curves, her ticklish spots, the places that made her moan. To dip her tongue into the hollow of Brady’s throat and taste her skin while Brady gasped beneath her. To kiss her way down Brady’s arms to the tips of her fingers, and then again along the arc of her spine to the gentle rise of her hips. To touch Brady where no one else got to, to make Brady hers. Even though she knew she didn’t have the right, she wanted Brady to be hers. No one else could have her—not Nate or Charlie or any of the other lovesick GIs who were always coming around. Brady belonged to her.
In return, she belonged to Brady. She was Brady’s to kiss, to caress and explore with outstretched fingers, mouth and tongue. Sean had touched her in the same places, had even used his mouth in similar fashion to rouse her to a passion of sorts. But he had never made her feel like she did now—weightless yet anchored to the bed by a fierce ache that only Brady could generate and only Brady could assuage. Heat rose in her as Brady’s mouth dipped lower, and CJ closed her eyes, gripping the expensive sheets. This was real love, she realized as a pink light took form against her eyelids and seemed to travel the length of her body, following the path of Brady’s mouth and hands. This cravin
g and this ache, this need and this desire so overwhelming that she could only clutch the sheets more tightly and give herself over completely to the feeling of Brady turning her inside out, to Brady loving her so fully that nothing else mattered, nothing else existed except the heat and the light and their two bodies joined as one.
Afterward, Brady stretched out beside her, one arm across her waist, cheek resting against her shoulder.
“Mmm,” was all CJ could say. Her head was actually spinning a little and not because of the margarita.
“Mmm is right,” Brady said, her voice low and sexy.
CJ felt a flicker of renewed heat. How could the sound of her voice have that effect? She stretched too, pointing her toes at the wall of windows as the candle cast shadows across the ceiling and walls.
“Holy moly,” she said after a moment.
Brady laughed.
“I’m serious,” CJ said, turning onto her side so that she could peer into Brady’s eyes. “I had no idea it could be like that. Honestly, no concept.”
Brady shook her head, smiling. “I didn’t either.”
“You’re incredible,” CJ said, catching one of her hands and kissing it slowly.
“You’re the incredible one.” Brady rolled on top of her, peppering her neck with kisses.
“No, you are.”
As Brady’s hips arched into hers, she felt the fire return in earnest. What was wrong with her? Was this normal? Did she care if it wasn’t? Nope, she decided, flipping Brady over.
“Clearly we need another run,” she said in a serious tone, leaning on her elbows above her. “You know, to ascertain which of us is in fact the incredible one.”
In the Company of Women Page 16
