Wynne was starting to breathe a sigh of relief. It sounded like she was going to get a glowing recommendation from both Markoff and Cheryl Williams.
“Cheryl has been after me for a year to let her hire an assistant vice president who can manage the marketing aspects and let her concentrate more on the sales end, and we’d both like it very much if you’d accept that job. It will mean a move to Orlando, of course, but we’ll pay for all that. And I hear that assistant VPs make a little more than managers, isn’t that right, Cheryl?”
“It’s about double, maybe a little more.”
Assistant vice president. Move to Orlando. Double the salary. Here was the opportunity she’d wanted.
“So will you accept, Wynne?” Cheryl prodded.
“Of course I accept!” Wynne stood and extended her hand across the table to her CEO.
“Thank you, Mr. Markoff.”
“It’s Ken, and welcome to the family.”
“Cheryl, I don’t know what to say.”
The VP tossed out all formality and reached out to offer a warm hug. “I’m so glad to have you aboard, Wynne. It’s going to be great working with you.”
———
It was almost midnight when the taxi pulled up in front of Wynne’s townhouse, and she was dead on her feet. In the last 24 hours, her world had been totally rocked by the very things that had brought her so much frustration over the last few weeks.
It was time for Wynne Connelly to shed the sense of duty and obligation that had plagued her life for so long. At Eldon-Markoff, she was being offered a new start, a chance to build a career at one of the top companies in the travel business. What’s more, Ken Markoff had apparently been okay with what he’d witnessed at the restaurant, so she wouldn’t have to fear losing her job over being a lesbian.
Her move to Orlando would force her mother to take responsibility for her own wellbeing.
That might be tough at first on Janelle, but Wynne felt strongly that both her sister and mom would rise to the occasion if they had to.
And then there was Paula.
As she’d more fully considered the ramifications of a move to Orlando, her thoughts of the beautiful blonde caused her sorrow to the point of a near physical pain. They were “big girls,” Paula had said. Did that mean that they could handle the consequences of sleeping together, no matter what they were? Or did it just mean that they gave themselves permission to enjoy, without obligation? Whatever it meant, Wynne knew that by spending the night in Paula’s bed, she’d probably ruined any chance to have a real future with the woman. It was one thing to have an out-of-town fling; it was altogether different to want to turn that into something more serious. Those types of relationships were based on mutual trust, and she’d violated that before they ever began. For that, she had regrets. Profound regrets.
But it was time to look forward now.
Wynne fumbled with her key, finally getting it to work. It was too late to worry about unpacking, she thought, so she left her bags in the foyer and started arduously up the stairs to the second level, a nightlight guiding her path.
From the top drawer of her dresser, she removed a nightshirt and went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. A hot soak would feel great, but she was far too tired for that.
Instead, she took three ibuprofen, brushed her teeth, and turned out the light.
Wynne eased herself into bed, settling comfortably between the sheets. A warm arm snaked across her belly to pull her closer as a silky thigh nestled between her own.
“Did you have a good trip, sweetheart?”
“Just the usual.” That would be her final lie, she vowed.
Chapter 10
“I was beginning to wonder if you were planning on coming home tonight.” Heather Bennett met her lover at the door, taking both the black leather briefcase and the flannellined raincoat.
“Sorry, my inbox was stuffed. Dinner smells good.”
“It was,” Heather chided. “I saved you some.”
“Thanks.” Wynne didn’t miss the admonition. Still, she had suggested long ago that Heather eat without her rather than wait when she was late getting home, especially since she had started working much longer hours with the Orlando project.
Together, the two women walked into the small kitchen, where Heather quickly went about warming dinner in the microwave.
“I can get that, Heather. You don’t have to wait on me.”
“I don’t mind. Go ahead and have a seat.”
Wynne did as she was told, sitting on a stool at the two-person counter while the other woman prepared her meal.
“Did you get a feel for what’s going to happen to your job?”
“Yeah, I talked about it with Cheryl and Ken. I don’t think they’re going to let me go.”
That was technically the truth, but Wynne wasn’t ready to share her news with her lover, especially now that she was on the precipice of making some big changes in her life.
Heather Bennett would be one of those changes.
“That’s great news, honey.” The phone interrupted their chat. “Oh, your mom called…about three times.”
Wynne sighed in resignation, not for her mother’s call, but because once again, Heather had failed to simply suggest that her mother try the work number. It was no secret that her lover was jealous of the time she gave to her family. Heather barely spoke to the Connelly woman, and vice versa; in her mind, Wynne’s constant catering to her mother took her away from what should be her primary relationship.
“Hello…Yeah, I just walked in the door. Heather told me you’d called,” Wynne covered for her lover’s indifference. “That’s a good idea, Mom, but I think you ought to get more than one estimate. That seems like a lot of money.” On her daughter’s recommendation, Kitty Connelly had decided to have the exterior of her Tudor home painted. “Sure, I’ll come on Saturday and meet with them.”
Heather slammed her glass down on the counter to express her anger at Wynne’s easy acquiescence, and left the room in disgust.
“Okay, I’ll see you about 10:30. Bye.”
Wynne knew that her lover was steamed, but she just didn’t have the energy to deal with it. Besides, it would never be resolved to Heather’s satisfaction — that would require Wynne to sever all contact with her mother and sister — so why bother at all.
The microwave beeped and the tired woman retrieved her meal, a bowl of chicken stew.
Briefly, she considered following Heather into the living room where the other woman no doubt was already absorbed in something on TV, but Wynne didn’t want to deal with either the noise or her lover’s foul mood. Not tonight…not again.
It was two years ago that Wynne met the stylish young woman during a party at the home of mutual friends. As the only single women in attendance, the pair was given a wide berth when they settled on a corner sofa and got to know a little about each other. Only 24 years old, Heather Bennett was pretty, average height with long curly brown hair and large hazel eyes. Her hours at the gym were apparent from her trim figure. A sales clerk for women’s clothing and accessories at an upscale department store in Owings Mills, she planned a career in retail, hoping someday to make department head. Without a college degree, she doubted she could move into management.
Despite her initial reservations that Heather really wasn’t her type, she accepted an invitation to have dinner with her the following week. As far as Wynne was concerned, their date was mediocre at best, so she was surprised the next day when one dozen longstemmed red roses arrived at her office, along with another invitation to go out. The flowers must have set Heather back a day’s pay!
That weekend, they took in a movie, afterward sharing a small kiss that for Wynne lacked any sort of spark at all. Certain that they had no future, the taller woman decided not to pursue a deeper relationship with Heather Bennett.
Fate changed that when, after dropping Heather off at her home, Wynne was broadsided at an intersection by a pickup that was traveli
ng so fast it pushed her more than half a block before she came to rest against a utility pole. Rescue workers used the “jaws of life” to extract her unconscious body from the crushed Toyota Camry, but not before she writhed in agony for over an hour, staring through the shattered window at the lifeless face of the youth who had hit her. It was an image that to this day plagued the woman’s dreams.
When she regained consciousness four days later, Heather was at her side, Kitty Connelly having shared the bedside vigil with this young woman who seemed to care so much for her daughter. Wynne was a mess, her left leg shattered, her skull fractured, her ribs and pelvis snapped. A ruptured spleen had nearly caused her to bleed to death in the crumpled car. She was lucky to be alive.
It was eight weeks before she was released from the hospital, and only then under 24-hour care. Heather took a leave of absence from her job and moved into Wynne’s twostory townhouse, taking charge of the woman’s day to day care.
When the physical therapy sessions started, it was Heather who consulted with the therapist so that she could help Wynne at home; and it was Heather who encouraged the injured woman to push through the pain to rebuild the strength and stamina she had lost.
Looking back, it was hard for Wynne to imagine how she ever would have recovered without the woman’s dedicated help.
Three months after the accident, Heather returned to work, but continued to spearhead the physical therapy sessions, adjusting her schedule so that she could drive the patient back and forth. Even as she worked full-time, she managed to see to Wynne’s every need, cooking, bathing, keeping house. During these months of recovery, Wynne could see clearly the growing devotion and affection in this woman who had come to be such an integral part of her rehabilitation. In truth, she sometimes felt smothered by Heather’s attentions.
The marketer returned to work after four months, part-time at first, but gradually resuming her heavy workload. Two more minor surgeries on her leg sidelined her for a while, but with Heather’s dependable help, her rehab continued until all that remained was her nagging limp and the predictable soreness from her not-yet-mended femur.
At the eight-month mark, Heather poured out her heart to the recovering woman, confessing that she had fallen deeply in love. The lease was up on her apartment, and she needed either to sign another or to move out. That forced a decision Wynne really wasn’t ready to make.
Though she still felt no spark between them, she had grown to care for the younger woman, and to value the friendship they had forged from endless hours of conversation and very personal care. Heather had certainly seen her at her worst, and at 33 years old, Wynne doubted that anyone else would ever show her such devotion. Reservations notwithstanding, the women became lovers.
Almost immediately, she knew that it had been a mistake to move their relationship to a more intimate level. Their lovemaking was passionless, and something Wynne never initiated. There were times that she would nearly cry in frustration at her inability to climax, no matter what they did. She hated herself for the deception, but faking orgasms in order to end their lovemaking had become the standard.
After only six months together as lovers, Wynne had tried to talk to Heather, hoping that she might be willing to return things between them to a platonic level. But Heather had persuaded her to give it more time; that things would get better between them when Wynne put her injury behind her.
Wynne couldn’t forget that this woman had practically given up her own needs and concerns to invest in her return to health, and such a sacrifice wasn’t to be taken lightly.
Besides, when their relationship moved to lovers, Heather had given up her own home and much of her second-hand furniture, and now had no place to go.
In the last few months, things between the women had taken a turn for the worse, or at least they had for Wynne. Heather was estranged from her parents and had little patience for the way her lover catered to her mother’s needs. The more Kitty Connelly called on Wynne, the more Heather resented it, now to the point that she objected each time Kitty asked for help with something, or even whenever she wanted to stop by the townhouse.
Wynne managed the strain by keeping the parties apart, but the stress of putting up with Heather’s disapproval was wearing on her nerves.
Add to that Wynne’s own depression at the realization of the true foundation of their relationship: obligation. Simply put, Wynne had owed the woman too much to deny her what she asked. But she would never love Heather in a romantic way, nor would she ever feel sexual attraction.
“Why don’t you come watch Friends with me?” the younger woman called from the living room.
Wynne rinsed her bowl and placed it in the dishwasher. “I’m going up to bed. I’m really tired.”
“Yeah, what was with that late flight last night?”
“Just a late meeting. I missed the earlier flight.”
“Why don’t you come sit with me and I’ll rub your neck?”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll soak in the tub for awhile then go on to bed.” Without waiting for a reply, Wynne labored up the staircase to the second floor. Ten minutes later, she was lowering herself in a steaming bubble bath when her lover appeared in the doorway.
“Got room for me in there?”
Wynne couldn’t hide her grimace at the intimate suggestion. “I’m tired, Heather. I just want to soak a while until my leg feels better then get some sleep.”
The younger woman’s shoulders slumped at the rejection. “I’m just trying to meet you halfway, Wynne. I know you hate the TV so I turned it off. What else would you have me do?”
The exhausted woman didn’t want to play this game. “I just want to rest. I don’t care if you want to watch TV.”
“You act like you don’t care what I do at all. You’ve barely said hello since you got back last night. Why is it so hard to accept that I might want to spend a little time with you tonight? You’ve been away from me for the last four days. Surely you don’t need more time to yourself.”
That’s exactly what she needed, Wynne thought. “Heather, look…I’m sorry but my leg is sore and I’m tired. I have another long day tomorrow and I need to be ready for it.”
“Yeah, and I heard you’re not going to be around on Saturday either.” Now angry, Heather shut the door loudly in retreat, leaving the tall woman to sigh deeply and slip lower into the mass of bubbles.
———
“What do you mean moving?” Janelle’s brown eyes were wide with panic.
“Shhhh! I haven’t told Mom yet.” Wynne guided her younger sister into the study and shut the door. “Janelle, this is an opportunity I’ve wanted for a long time. It’s always been my dream to achieve something like this at work. You know that. I have to take it.”
“Wynne, who’s going to take care things for Mom? I can’t handle that. I’ve already got enough on my plate with school and Sophie,” the younger sister pleaded frantically.
“Janelle, it isn’t my responsibility to take care of Mom. She’s a grown woman. She should start taking care of herself. Maybe she’ll do that if I’m not here to handle every little problem.”
“Now you sound like Heather.”
Ouch! The truth of that was inescapable.
“I bet she’s thrilled with all of this. Now she gets you all to herself,” Janelle groused.
“I haven’t told her about the job yet. I…I’m not going to ask her to come with me.”
“What!”
“I just think this is a good time to end things. We’re just not…all that good together.”
“I can’t imagine Miss Congeniality would be good with anybody.”
“Janelle, that’s not fair. Heather was very kind to me when I really needed it. I don’t know how I’d ever have made it through all that without her help.”
“I can answer that, Wynne. Mom and I would have been there for you and you know it. Maybe if you had given Mom a chance, she would have figured out that she wasn’t so helpless after all.�
��
“I wasn’t exactly in a position to make decisions for myself, was I?”
“No, but when you did get better, you let that woman take over your life,” Janelle complained. “Do you have any idea how many times Heather told us not to come by because you were resting, or because you needed to focus on your therapy, or because the two of you were…busy, whatever busy meant.”
Wynne’s face reddened at the obvious sexual innuendo. She hated to think that Heather would have given away the privacy of that aspect of their life. Her mother had had enough difficulty with the prospect of her oldest daughter being gay without having it thrown in her face.
“Mommy!” The little voice came from beyond the door, the child obviously scurrying from room to room in her search.
“In here, sweetie.” Janelle opened the study door to welcome her daughter.
Wynne was grateful for the diversion, her head spinning from her sister’s reaction to the news. If Janelle was this bad, how was her mother going to take all this? And worse, how would she deal with Heather?
———
“So have you seen The Beautiful Woman from Baltimore?” That’s the name Val had assigned her friend’s new romantic interest.
“Yeah, she came over for dinner Tuesday night.” Paula wasn’t sure she was ready to share the details of her night with Wynne Connelly. She could hardly believe it herself —
they had spent a wonderful…erotic…passion-filled night together and had seemed to connect at every turn.
“How many more visits does she have?” Both women stood before the mirror doing curls.
“Just one for sure. If they keep her on, I guess she’ll get a chance to come down every now and then.”
Just This Once Page 10
