"Saw yourself how?" Gayle walked slowly, and, as if sensing the mood, Shylock, for once, trotted obediently by her side. They're lesbians, Aud. What are you telling me?
"This is going to sound so dumb," Auden mumbled. "I knew their pain and their loneliness, and in the end, I felt as if their joy was mine."
"Yeah," Gayle said softly. "I know what you mean. I guess that's why I love reading them so much. I don't think when I read those books. I just feel."
"I didn't expect it."
"I think it's pretty natural."
"Good," Auden replied pensively.
"So, Aud," Gayle teased gently, "that particular book has some pretty hot stuff in it, too. Did it turn you on?"
"Yes."
"Well, good for you." Gayle laughed in delight. "Did you have to do the old 'substitute a man for one of the women' thing, like I substitute a woman for the guy in straight books?"
"What?" Auden's confusion was plain in her voice. "Why would I...oh. No, I...just enjoyed the two of them together," They were so beautiful. So right together.
"Whoa. So did you imagine one of those hot sexy women making love to you?"
"No," Auden said softly, Haydon Palmer's face flashed through her mind. "Not exactly."
For some reason, Gayle didn't ask her anything else. She simply threaded her arm through Auden's and gave her a sympathetic hug. "Don't worry, Aud. It will all work out."
Will it?
Rune reviewed the message just to be sure.
-----Reply-----
From: [email protected]
Sent: Wednesday March 19, 2:20 AM
To : [email protected]
Subject: Manuscript-Dark Passions
Attachment: Dark Passions.doc 858KB
Ms. Frost:
Attached please find the current draft of Dark Passions for your review.
Since there are no substantial changes in the new contract, I will return my signed copy to you by mail within the week.
Thank you for affording me the opportunity, to bring this work to completion.
Sincerely,
Rune Dyre
Perfectly businesslike. She clicked Send, logged off, and went to bed. When she finally slept, the dreams returned.
Chapter Six
W hen she opened her eyes, Auden was stunned to feel the warmth of another body, to find that she was not alone in bed.
Gayle? Did I fall asleep in Gayle's apartment? We were talking and...
She couldn't remember. Her mind was suffused with half images and broken fragments—elusive memories fluttering on the edge of consciousness. Her body was strangely lethargic, too, floating in that indolent plane between sleep and wakefulness.
Despite her confusion, she was quite aware of the firm arm wrapped around her waist, and of the heat of the body pressed to her back as she lay curled on her side. Warm breath blew rhythmically across her neck. Carefully, she inched away, only to be stopped by the hand tightening against her stomach and a soft murmur of protest. Almost at once, that hand, which had been softly stroking her stomach, drifted higher, cupping her bare breast. Sharply, she drew in a breath as a swift shaft of arousal pierced her, her thighs clenching as the muscles deep w ithin contracted. She felt the sudden urge to press her hips back into the heat that flared against her buttocks, but she resisted, lying as still as she possibly could.
Another muted murmur, lips against her skin, and a swell of moisture anointed her thighs.
"0h," she gasped as a warm mouth explored her neck, then a teasing tongue traced the rim of her ear. This time, she couldn't hide the small jerk of her hips as pleasure seared through her. Rocking back against-the sod breasts and firm thighs, she heard an answering moan. Struggling to contain the onslaught of sensation, her vision clouded as other senses burst to life. Her skin tingled, light danced beneath her half-closed lids, and passion beat in her blood.
Fingers explored her breast, then brushed the nipple that was already so hard, already so sensitive. Everything pulsed in a single rhythm now—her body, her blood, the swiftly swelling heart of need between her thighs. Her mind emptied even as her flesh erupted with sensation. Excitement hammered in her depths, and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth to still her cries.
The mouth on her neck grew more insistent, biting lightly in time with the rhythmic pressure on her nipples. It was more than she had ever imagined, and far less than she required.
"Oh God, I need you to touch me."
Not thinking, not questioning, she turned onto her back, grasping the tormenting hand, drawing it from her breasts, down over her abdomen, finally pressing it between her thighs. Her body was screaming for release, her clitoris stiff and pulsing, achingly hard. The first touch was electric, and she reared up, stomach clenched—desperately watching as the fingers beneath her own stroked her. Her breath left her in a rush; she was dying, poised on the precipice of discovery.
"Please."
Even as the plea escaped her lips, she turned her head, eyes wide, needing the connection as her climax hovered just out of reach. As tender fingers closed along her length, drawing her closer with agonizingly exquisite pressure, she met not Gayle's hazel eyes, but obsidian ones, flecked with silvers and golds. Familiar eyes, deep with desire.
"Oh!" she cried, lost in those dark depths, everything inside of her exploding.
The wrenching climax rocketed Auden from sleep just as the alarm went off.
"Oh God," she sobbed, squeezing with the hand still caught between her thighs, legs jerking as the orgasm raged. "Oh God, oh God..."
When she finally caught her breath, Auden rolled over and shut off the alarm, then lay on her back staring at the ceiling. Chest heaving, she twitched faintly as her muscles straggled to recover.
Well, that's a first. More than a first. I would have thought I was too old for wet dreams, and I've never come in my sleep like that. God, it was so real. I can't believe I dreamed that. What's happening to me?
Beneath her fingers, her clitoris still pulsed. She knew if she lingered much longer, she would need to come again. Reluctantly, but with a sigh of relief as well, she forced herself upright and out of bed. The orgasm had been brilliant, burning through her with terrible urgency. But even as her body welcomed the release, her heart seemed heavier for the coldness of the empty bed beside her.
Her legs were still shaking, and an insistent echo of desire rolled through her. Swiftly, she crossed to the bathroom, leaned into the shower, and turned on the water. The sluice of spray helped restore her body and her mind to some sense of normalcy.
Okay. No big deal. You were turned on when you went to sleep. Obviously, your body decided to take care of matters all on its own. Nothing else to read into it.
"Yeah, right." She tried to ignore the memory of looking into all too familiar eyes as she came. "Sure. God."
As she dressed and made coffee, lingering by the window for a few moments to watch the morning, Auden steadfastly refused to think about the dream. Nevertheless, it flitted across the recesses of her memory. She didn't try to deny that she had come while imagining a woman's touch. That didn't bother her.
That could mean anything, probably means nothing. Just one of those dream things where everything gets turned upside down. Jeez, I even dreamed it was Gayle.
Auden turned from the window and busied herself with collecting her keys and briefcase. She didn't need to think about what she refused to put into words. She knew the truth to her core. It wasn't Gayle who had made her come.
When Auden arrived at work, she nodded hello to Alana and started down the hall toward her temporary office.
"Ms. Frost?" the receptionist called.
Auden turned and walked back. "Yes?"
"I have several messages here for you,"
"Oh?" She hadn't even had time to check her e-mail before leaving the house. Her morning had been too disjointed, another sign that she was off her stride. She forced herself to concentrate. "What?"
"A Ms. Liz
Nixon called to say that she received your e-mail and was available for a meeting."
"Did she say when?"
"At your convenience," Alana said formally.
"Do you know if I'll be getting a temporary secretary today?"
"I wouldn't know." After a beat, Alana's expression softened. "But I'd be happy to set up the appointment for you."
"Thank you. I know you're busy—"
"It's no trouble, Ms. Frost."
"Please. Call me Auden."
Alana smiled fleetingly. "When would you prefer to see Ms. Nixon?"
"As far as I know," Auden replied with a grin, "my schedule is wide open. Any time tomorrow or Friday would be fine."
"I'll see to it then. There's also a message from Ms. Palmer."
"Yes?" Auden's pulse skipped a beat, and she hoped the faint flush she felt rise to her face didn't show.
"She wanted you to know that she would be out of town for several days, and that you could refer any questions to Mr. Pritchard."
"Oh." Auden tried to hide her surprise. Odd that Hays didn't mention that yesterday. But then again, why should she have? Auden nodded neutrally. "I see. Thank you."
Still, as Auden walked away, she couldn't ignore the keen sense of disappointment. She had so much work to do, work she was looking forward to, but knowing that Hays would not be right down the hall left her feeling empty in a totally unexpected way.
It's probably for the best if I don't see her for a few days. Clearly, too much has happened too fast. I just need to get my sense of balance back. A few days with nothing to distract me should set that straight
She entered her office, already thinking of the people she needed to contact and the interviews that needed to be scheduled. Within minutes, she had forgotten all about Haydon Palmer and the strange happenings of the early-morning hours.
-Original Message-
From: [email protected]
Sent: Wednesday March 19, 10:05 AM
To : [email protected]
Subject: Personal Meeting
Ms. Dyre:
Thank you for your prompt response. I received your draft of Dark Passions and will review it as soon as possible.
I would like to arrange a meeting here in Philadelphia at your earliest convenience to discuss future projects with you in person.
Palmer Publishing resource personnel are available to assist you with travel and accommodations. Let us know what you may require.
I look forward to hearing from you,
Sincerely,
Auden Frost
Auden sent similar e-mails to the seven other authors she had inherited. She could handle the necessary negotiations by teleconference if she had to, but there was nothing like seeing a person face to face when discussing business. At least at this stage, she thought a personal assessment would be wise, considering that the future of Destiny books might rest with these eight women.
Alana had arranged several in-house interviews for the late morning. By the time Auden realized that she had missed lunch again, it was almost two p.m. She hadn't been out of her office all day.
To her delight, when she approached the lunch room for coffee, she saw that Hays's office door was open and heard voices emanating from within. Her happiness was short-lived, however. In passing, she was surprised to recognize not Hays's deep tones, but Abel Pritchard's distinctive baritone.
"Are you sure you don't need me to come over?...Have you called Rosenberg?"
Something in his tone, a totally uncharacteristic edge of anxiety, brought Auden up short.
"Damn it, Hays, this has got to stop. You simply can't keep this up."
Hurriedly, Auden moved away. The conversation was obviously private. But the worry inPritchard's voice was hard to forget. She poured coffee, still thinking about the odd snippets of conversation. When she turned around, Pritchard was standing in the doorway watching her.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Pritchard," she said calmly.
"Ms. Frost."
They regarded one another silently for a moment
Pritchard asked, "Are you settling in?"
"Getting there," Auden acknowledged with a weary shrug. "I have a secretary and a copy editor, or I will have as soon as the transfers are approved." She hesitated. "Should I send the personnel requests through you?"
"If these are routine matters that don't specifically require Haydon's input, yes, that procedure would be best. She has...enough to do."
"Certainly."
"You have the information about the reception Saturday evening?" His tone was formally cool.
"I do. Thank you."
"Very well, then. I'll be here until eight, if you need anything."
He turned to leave and Auden said suddenly, "Mr. Pritchard?"
"Yes?" His expression was guarded.
"Is she all right?"
"Who?" ;
Auden smiled thinly. "I don't make a habit of eavesdropping, but the door was open, and I heard a bit of your conversation as I passed. Hays...Ms. Palmer...didn't look well yesterday. I was just wondering—"
"She's fine."
His eyes probed hers, looking for something, but what it might be, Auden had no clue. She had nothing to hide and let him search, waiting quietly.
"A touch of the flu," he said at last.
"I'm glad it's nothing serious."
"No. Good day then, Ms. Frost."
"Good day, Mr. Pritchard."
When she returned to her office, Auden punched in a number from memory, then replaced the receiver. A few moments later, the phone rang. She answered, smiling at the familiar lilting tones.
"Dr. Dunbar."
"Hiya, superdoc."
"Aud!" Gayle exclaimed. "Where are you? I don't recognize this number."
"My office."
"Ooh—sounds so official. What's up?"
"You busy Saturday night?"
"Uh," Gayle muttered. "Let's see. I'm off call, so I had planned to hit all the hot spots. Sisters. Key West. The 2-4. Maybe bring home the love of my life." She laughed. "Make me an offer."
"I have a feeling this won't compare," Auden remarked glumly. "A cocktail party with some people from Palmer. Some of the authors, too."
"Authors?" Gayle asked quickly, her voice rising. "Authors? Like dyke romance writers?"
Auden laughed. "Uh-huh."
"Like who? Who?"
"Well, there's Thane Cutlass and Margo Elliot and Rune—"
"Thane Cutlass? Rune Dyre? You're kidding!"
"Well, I haven't seen the acceptance list, but they've all been invit— "
"What should I wear? Ooh—can I wear a tux?"
"Sweetie, you can wear anything you'd like." Auden couldn't help but smile when she talked to Gayle. Her enthusiasm was contagious.
"Uh...what are you wearing?"
"Me?" Auden mentally reviewed her : closet "Standard cocktail fare. A black, off-the-shoulder—"
Gayle's gulp was audible. "Hey, Aud? Is there something we need to talk about?"
"Huh?"
"Cause you know I love you, but—"
Auden burst out laughing, "God, Gayle. It's not a date!"
"Well, you know—when a lady invites me out, I think romance."
"I'm not...a lady," Auden said quietly, wondering if Gayle noticed that she hadn't declared "I'm not gay."
"Oh, honey," Gayle crooned, "you have no idea."
"So that's a yes?"
"Most definitely."
When Auden was satisfied that she had the next several days' work organized, she checked her e-mail one more time. She opened one new message immediately.
-----Reply-----
From: [email protected]
Sent: Wednesday, March 19, 4:52 PM
To : [email protected]
Subject: Re: Meeting
Ms. Frost:
I regret that I will not be able to meet with you in Philadelphia. I will be most happy to address any issues you may wish to discuss by email.
S
incerely,
Rune Dyre
"Well, that's pretty definite," Auden mused with a mixture of surprise and irritation. In her experience, authors were usually a little more anxious to foster good relationships with their publishers. The response was scrupulously polite but left no room for negotiation. "Not even an offer of a phone call. Let's see what she has to say Saturday night."
Before she gathered up the papers she intended to review over the next few days, Auden printed out a copy of Rune Dyre's manuscript, Dark Passions.
"Let's see if she can write another one as good as Secret Storm."
Clad in her pajamas, Auden answered the knock on her door. It was almost one-thirty in the morning. At this hour on Friday night, it could only be Gayle or Mrs. Truman, the octogenarian who occupied the second-floor apartment. After another long day of meetings, a day in which Haydon Palmer had still not made an appearance, Auden decided to indulge herself in a late night of reading and a solitary bottle of wine. She'd finished two more novels and had finally begun what she'd really been thinking about reading for more than a day. She peered out the door and smiled.
"Hello, sweetie."
"Hello, my lady love," Gayle said with a grin. "I saw your lights on."
Auden held the door wide and stepped aside so that Gayle could enter. She caught a whiff of whiskey and smoke. "You strike out tonight?"
"Not really." Gayle flopped into the overstuffed chair in Auden's living room. "I had an offer or two."
"But?" Auden perched on the other chair and settled her bare feet on the coffee table. She studied her friend, who looked chic and sexy in tight black jeans, a black, tight-weave net top that revealed just a suggestion of nipple shadows, and a leather jacket. Auden searched for any hint of sexual response on her part when she looked at Gayle, but her body was quiet. She was happy to see Gayle, but she wasn't excited. Not the way she had been in the dream. Oh, for Pete's sake. Forget the damn dream!
"But...I just didn't feel like it." Gayle swung her legs over the arm of the chair and leaned her head back, gazing at Auden out of half-closed lids. "I think I'm getting old."
Radclyffe - Love's Masquerade Page 6
