Wayworn Lovers

by Gun Brooke

  “I—that’s beside the point. I didn’t know then what I know now.” Leanne tugged at the zipper in her jacket.

  “And what is that? Exactly.” Giselle was getting entirely fed up with these three.

  “She’s unstable and has a record. What else do you need to know to take appropriate measures?” Leanne said, raising her voice. “I’d be very curious to see what’s in her juvie records.”

  “Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Giselle motioned farther down the gravel road. “She’s right there with my dog Charley. Better keep your distance. Charley looks like she’s been playing in the woods again. She’s dirty.”

  “So was Timo. Full of sand. It took me forever to get all that dirt and knots out of his fur.” Leanne took a step closer to her husband. “You talk to her, Bob. She hates me for no reason.”

  “Don’t worry, honey,” the burly man said and put his arm around her.

  Tierney came closer, and to her credit she didn’t slow down her stride for a moment. Instead she walked up to the trio and regarded them calmly. Her eyes, normally so sparkling, held a dark, stormy hue. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “These concerned citizens of East Quay claim you’re about to sell my dog to science and steal the silverware.” Giselle spoke curtly.

  “Not until I’ve burned down the house and let Charley destroy your roses.” Tierney passed the visitors, who gave her a wide berth to enter the code and open the gate. “Come on, Charley.” She walked up to Giselle. “You all right?” she murmured almost inaudibly.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” Tierney raised her voice. “Leanne, why did you come here? Is it to make matters worse than they are? You had your say five days ago. In my opinion, you showed your true colors, and I have no desire to have anything to do with you again.”

  “Now, wait a minute, little lady,” Bob said, but his wife interrupted him.

  “You’re a criminal who has wormed your way into this poor woman’s house and taken advantage of her disability. It’s a horrible thing to do to someone fighting such weakness.” Leanne huffed.

  “Are we having guests? Should I start the coffeemaker?” Stephanie called from the front door.

  “No, thank you, kiddo!” Tierney yelled back and then returned her focus to the trio. “I just assumed we’d skip the coffee today. We have other guests coming later and can’t really afford to stand here and gossip.”

  “Who’s that?” Daphne asked. “Good Lord, don’t tell me this woman convinced you to take in another stray?” Gaping, she placed a hand on her forehead and clearly did her best to look aghast.

  “Now wait a fucking minute,” Tierney said with a growl. “Steph is not a stray. Nor am I. It’s about time you learned how to treat people with respect.” She scowled at the trio outside the gate. “Giselle may live in a beautiful house with all the privileges that come from being well off, yet that hasn’t dented her humanity and her ability to care for those less fortunate. But when it comes to you, it’s had the opposite effect. I doubt either of you has ever had to think about where to find your next meal—or when.”

  “You’re shrewd. I’ll give you that.” Bob snickered. “You deflect and cast blame on your betters just so Ms. Bonnaire won’t ask the tough questions. I know you have a juvie record, and even if I can’t uncover any of the details just yet, I want you to know I’m watching you.”

  “In a perfect world, your presence ought to make me feel safer, but oddly enough it doesn’t work. Oh, right. You’re not here to protect me, but rather protect Giselle from me, and perhaps from Steph too. Do you need protection, Giselle?” Tierney looked at her, and despite her teasing tone, Tierney’s eyes had dark shadows under them, as if she was exhausted.

  “Not in the least. Come on. Let’s go inside. We need to bathe Charley before the others arrive. They’re bringing Helena and Noelle with them. And, God help me, Perry and Mason.”

  “Really?” Brightening, Tierney called Charley, and they began to walk up to the house.

  “Hey. You can’t just ignore our information,” Leanne said loudly.

  Giselle swiveled. “Oh, I heard you, Leanne. I plan to have my lawyer consider what the law says about defamation and the police conducting unwarranted computer searches. At the very least, we’re filing a restraining order so you can’t harass either of these young women. In the meantime, I suggest you leave my property. As it happens, the gravel road is my private property, in case you missed the sign by the main road.”

  Bob Walters grimaced as he turned to guide his wife and her friend back to the SUV. He shook his head and glared at Giselle. “This is how you repay people who care enough to get involved. Perhaps you deserve to have someone steal your property, or worse.”

  “And that sounded like a threat. Good thing I have two witnesses.” Giselle had had enough of the concerned citizens and motioned for Tierney and Charley to walk in through the mudroom. She used the front door, and a stormy-eyed Stephanie met her there.

  “Who the hell was that?” Stephanie, who rarely cursed, was livid. “Were they after Tierney?”

  “Yes. And me, it felt like.” Giselle shook her head. What a blessing that Manon Belmont was coming to the house today. Normally, she didn’t feel comfortable using her friend’s connections, yet she was perfectly willing to do so again within just a few days, to keep the Walters couple and Daphne away from Tierney and Stephanie.

  Twenty minutes later, a sweet-smelling, clean Charley bounded through the house, taking command of the still-covered love seat by the window in the music room. Giselle sat at the piano, going over her music sheets and the lyrics Tierney had been working on one last time. Today was a big day, as their meeting with Chicory Ariose had been moved up. Some of her clients’ concerts had been postponed, and since she was flexible, Giselle had worked around the clock the last four days to accommodate them.

  Rubbing her neck, she closed her eyes and moaned at how stiff she was. Then she grew even more rigid when gentle hands warmed her aching muscles. As Giselle opened her eyes, she gazed up at Tierney, who, despite the gentle smile on her lips, looked very tense around her eyes.

  “May I give you a massage?” Tierney moved her hands and applied increasing pressure.

  “Sh-sure.” Giselle couldn’t keep her eyes open. As she squeezed them closed, Tierney’s strong fingers pressed against her trapezius. They hurt, but mostly they felt wonderful. So close behind her, Tierney smelled even better, a mix of soap and light body splash or lotion. Giselle inhaled greedily, grateful Tierney’s hands were already so much better.

  “This good?” Tierney gently pinched the skin surrounding the hard muscles. “Try to relax more, or this might really hurt.”

  “You’re doing…fine.” Giselle had thought she would get used to Tierney’s proximity and touches. They’d shared a bed, very chastely, since the accident. Giselle hadn’t asked Tierney to stay with her during the night, nor had Tierney questioned the arrangement. They usually fell asleep after politely telling each other good night, only to wake up and find that their bodies had found each other while they slept.

  Now, Tierney bent and whispered in her ear, breaking Giselle out of her reverie. “Are you truly okay after going toe-to-toe with those self-proclaimed pillars of the community?”

  “I really should be the one asking. They targeted you.”

  “Only because I live here. When I talked to Leanne in town, both when I arrived here and when I walked her dog, she radiated jealousy and greed. You’re connected, you work with famous people, and you keep turning down their attempts to ‘help you.’ They only want to get a foot in the door. If their first plan had worked, I bet they thought I’d be so grateful to them I’d spill everything that goes on behind said door. Which I would never do.”

  Tierney was certainly perceptive. Ever since she’d started working for Giselle, not counting all the drama that wasn’t really Tierney’s fault, Giselle had never had to resort to endless bouts of discussion to explain herself
. Tierney simply knew what to do, and she got Giselle.

  Reaching around Giselle’s shoulders and down toward her collarbones, Tierney massaged firmly, finding knots Giselle had no idea she had. The fact she was so close to her breasts made Giselle draw a new, long breath. “Tierney…”

  “Shh.” Tierney alternated between firm strokes and caresses. “We’re going to be working all afternoon, and that means hours at the piano for you. Your muscles need to be loose and rested.”

  “Oh, God.” Giselle’s stomach clenched, and that alone sent moisture down between her thighs. “You’re playing dirty, Tierney.”

  “I’m not.” A faint yet so obvious laughter lived in Tierney’s voice. “I just want to take care of you, if you’ll let me.”

  “That sounds pretty one-sided.” Giselle studied her perfect, blunt nails.

  “You think so?” Tierney slid her hands up and down Giselle’s arms, finding uncharted territory when her fingers found a way in under the short sleeve of Giselle’s shirt. “Who took care of me when I was injured? Who went against her entire being, driving the car through rush-hour traffic, to get to me?” Tierney grasped Giselle’s shoulders and made her pivot on the piano stool. She cupped Giselle’s cheeks, looking into her eyes, her gaze serious. “Sometimes I feel I take such liberties when I touch you, since you’re so damn beautiful and way out of my league. I’m not a very selfless person, that much is clear, since I can’t keep my hands off you.” Tierney colored faintly. “So, there it is.”

  “It is?” Giselle stood, pulling Tierney into her arms. “Do I give you any signals that I don’t like for you to touch me?”

  “Well, no, perhaps not, but—”

  “Or do I tell you to move out of my bed?” Giselle pushed her fingers into the auburn masses of hair and tugged very gently to expose Tierney’s neck. She pressed her lips behind the soft shell of Tierney’s ear and had to force herself not to suck the blood to the pale skin. She’d never given anyone a hickey, and this wasn’t the time to start.

  “No. Oh, please don’t do that. I know we’re new. I mean together. We’re so very new and, I suppose, unconventional, but I don’t care. All I do care about is you—and Stephanie.” Trembling, Tierney rested her face against Giselle’s shoulder. “And I really want to be there for you. If it can be only as your assistant, so be it. If it’s more…” She gazed up again. “I can’t think of anything that could make me happier.”

  “You really don’t know me,” Giselle said mildly. She ran her hand over Tierney’s unruly hair. “You’ve seen bit and pieces. I’m not easy to deal with most days of the week, and then there’s my, um, disability.”

  Tierney shook her head. “If you think the latter would have anything to do with how I feel, you’re selling me short. And yourself. You have phobias and anxiety. Perhaps you don’t know, since you don’t exactly get out much,” Tierney said and winked, “but it’s not uncommon. Granted, not everyone suffers from panic attacks, but I also think you’ve proved to yourself that you can overcome them, little by little. After all, you did drive in broad daylight into East Quay.”

  Tugging gently at Tierney’s hair, Giselle scowled. “That was because my fear of losing you usurped my other fears.”

  “Exactly.” Tierney’s smile was equal parts sweet and infuriating. “You had other things to focus on. The possibility of me dying won over your agoraphobia.”

  “Tierney!” Horrified, Giselle tugged even harder on the wild red hair. “Don’t jinx anything.”

  “And you’re superstitious too. You’re such a find.” Tierney laughed irreverently, only to then grow serious. “I think it’s true though. You can will the anxiety to lessen, if not to go away instantly. I suppose it’s a process, but you’ve shown it’s possible.”

  Tierney was right. “You’re not saying anything my former therapist didn’t try to convince me of.” She didn’t want to talk about her anxiety anymore and dipped her head for another kiss.

  Tierney moaned. “I just want to hold you.”

  “I second that.” Giselle pushed her warm hands under the back of Tierney’s T-shirt. Silky, warm skin created small bonfires throughout her system. Giselle gently caressed the small of Tierney’s back.

  “Oh, fu—” Tierney clipped the word off and pressed her mouth against Giselle’s. Parting her lips, she teased the inside of Giselle’s, tempting her to reciprocate. Giselle couldn’t have resisted Tierney if she’d wanted to. And, oh Lord, she didn’t want to. In fact, resisting was the last thing on her mind. She opened her mouth and met Tierney’s tongue with her own.

  “Tierney, angel…” Giselle whispered and then deepened the kiss further, reveling in the taste of Tierney’s lips and mouth while groaning out loud.

  Tierney echoed the groan, clinging to Giselle and wrapping a leg around her hip. “Yes, like that…”

  Voices came from the foyer, and Giselle slowly let go of Tierney’s lips and took half a step back. “I think it’s Chicory Ariose.”

  “All four of them?” Tierney smoothed her hair back and then did the same with Giselle’s. “There. Better.”

  “Thank you.” Giselle straightened, taking a deep breath. Tierney had never looked more radiant, but they had work to do, and she had to regroup. “You ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” Tierney crinkled her nose, causing tenderness to erupt like a volcano in Giselle’s chest.

  Giselle let go of Tierney’s waist and ran her fingers along her jawline. “All right. Let’s go meet them.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “Tierney!” Mike exclaimed when she saw them. “How are you doing? And how are you, Giselle? What a week you’ve had. Vivian and I could hardly believe what happened just after Tierney and I saw each other with the dogs.”

  “Tell me how she looks,” Vivian said and took Mike’s arm.

  “Tierney looks fine, just a few, barely visible bruises,” Mike said reassuringly. “Tierney,” Mike said, and motioned behind her and Vivian. Two other women hung their coats in the small closet. “I know you recognize these two, but this is Manon Belmont. She plays the keyboard.” She pointed to an elegant woman with chocolate-brown hair in a low, full bun. “And that’s Eryn Goddard, our illustrious journalist and guitarist. Prefers electric guitars.” Eryn was slightly taller than Manon, her red hair a darker, more coppery tone than Tierney’s own.

  “A fellow redhead,” Eryn said merrily and strode up to Tierney, pulling her in for a hug. “I’m sorry if I’m too forward, but after talking with Mike, I feel I know you somewhat.”

  “No problem.” Tierney murmured, feeling a little shell-shocked.

  “Nice to meet you, Tierney.” Manon extended a hand but also kissed Tierney’s cheek. “And where’s the young lady I helped liberate from the Brodys?”

  “Here, ma’am.” A shy voice from the kitchen revealed Stephanie’s presence. Her eyes were huge and stayed glued to the celebrities. She took a few, slow steps toward Manon. “My name’s Stephanie. Thank you for helping me catch a break from the system.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, that was the least I could do. I’ve dedicated a sizable portion of my life to helping young people.” Manon placed her arm around Stephanie’s shoulders. “I think I hear the second car.”

  Giselle walked over to the front door and opened it. “Yes. Here they are.” She gazed back at Stephanie. “You may have to hold onto something, Stephanie.”

  “What? I mean, why?”

  “Welcome,” Giselle said, and motioned for two more women to step inside.

  Tierney stared, but that was nothing compared to Stephanie’s response. The young girl gave a muted whimper, and then her knees gave in. “Noelle Laurent?” she whispered.

  “That’s right,” Manon said, and held Stephanie tighter. “Don’t forget to breathe.”

  “Oh, God,” the other woman who’d just joined them said, snorting. “I think you’ve done it again, darling.” She motioned for Noelle to look over at Stephanie.

  “Whoops.” Noell
e grinned, but not without kindness. The world-famous pop star took a few long strides toward Stephanie. “Hey, no fainting. I hear you’re a genuine fan.” She winked and tossed her long white-and-black hair back over her shoulder.

  “I am,” Stephanie said, tears clinging to her eyelashes. “I know all your songs by heart. I used to have a poster of you above my bed, but someone painted all over it with Sharpies.”

  “I see. Not a nice thing to do, but we can get you a new one if you like. Perhaps one with you and me together? What do you think, Helena?” Noelle asked her wife.

  “Not a problem,” Helena Forsythe, media mogul and well-known business tycoon, said. “In fact, we have a lot to offer young women like you, if you’re interested.”

  Tierney’s chest constricted when she saw how Stephanie covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Noelle merely smiled and kissed Stephanie’s cheek.

  “Helena and I agree that it’s important to provide young people with the resources they need to make it in the entertainment business, if that’s what they dream about. We wouldn’t mind a test pilot for the start of our joint foundation.” Noelle winked at Steph, whose shocked expression was memorable.

  After the final introductions were made, it was Tierney’s turn to be on the receiving end of Noelle’s total attention. “I hear you’re the lyrics guru around here.” She hooked her arm around Tierney’s. “And I also heard about your ordeal earlier this week. I’m glad you came out on top, so to speak.” She squeezed Tierney’s arm gently. “And now you have to sing all the lyrics to date for me. If I’m going to make the best of them, together with Vivian, I want to hear what the lyricist had in mind. Someone like you could easily be considered for our foundation as well. Rich kids have their parents’ resources, but we think people from all walks of life and all socioeconomic backgrounds deserve a fair shot as well.”

  Tierney couldn’t speak for the next few moments. The idea of Noelle seeming so impressed with her lyrics, which she herself thought might be amateurish, and talking about something that sounded like a grant made the floor move beneath her feet.