Ember Flowers (19 page)

It seemed as
though her companion had a lot of happy memories. A dark framed
photograph of an older couple, likely her parents. Her father
sharing her light olive complexion and expressive features. He had
a shock of black lustrous hair, short with subtle glossy waves. Her
mother’s face was framed in chocolate curls, smoky eyes, curved
lips and a rounded chin. They both looked so serious, yet, the
sparkle in the man’s eye reminded her of Jean’s cheeky looks.

Then there was
a photo of Scott and Ellie, with their son brand new and wrapped up
in a blanket. Scott was kissing his wife’s temple affectionately,
the love clearly between them. Another shot of Jean with them, the
child in her arms as she cooed to it. She really did look happy. A
last photo, this one looked well loved, a dog ear smoothed on the
corner. Jean and a red headed woman, lying on a beach towel, the
ocean spray behind them. The camera had captured the affection
between them, as they lay back braced on their elbows. The
redhead’s face was turned toward Jean, as though whispering in her
ear. Alabaster skin and vivid green eyes, slim wrists and an
emerald swimsuit. The younger Jean was smiling in response, like
she had not a care in the world.

That must be
Natasha.
The two of them looked quite a pair. Even with the
sunglasses covering the older woman’s eyes, she could imagine the
look of devotion underneath. Jean had been very much in love. She
noted the matching wedding bands on their fingers.

She looked down
at the ground and mused with a sad smile, turning to join her
daughter in the kitchen.

Chapter
28

She could see
the lights on when she pulled up in the gravel drive. Something
about it made her smile. A clank of the car and she was walking
toward the old solid door. Something smelt good, wafting through
the slightly ajar porch window.

A key turned in
the lock and she walked into the living room. The fire was already
lit behind its surround, though the iron pokers had been moved.

Annabelle’s
little face peeked out behind the kitchen door, Jean smiled, giving
her a little wave. Setting down her things on a table too high for
little hands to reach.

“Honey I’m
home.” Warbled as she joined the blonde in the kitchen.

Piles of pots
and pans in the sink, the smell of cut herbs from the garden,
something bubbling in the oven. A slight flush to the fair cheeks
dotted with the occasional freckle.

“Hi.”

“Hi there, I
see you’ve been busy?” She sniffed appreciatively.

Stirring
something on the stove. “I have. Your cupboards are woeful Jean. I
felt the need to restock them..this is our thank you for
yesterday.” A satisfied grin that she had at least partially evened
the score. Jo looked down at the little curious face looking over
their host. She stroked her daughter’s rounded cheek. Jean smiled
at the little girl.

Jean walked
over and stood beside Jo, resting her fingertips on her arm. “You
didn’t have to do that.”

“Wanted to.” A
softer tone, grey eyes almost bashful as they flicked over her.

The gardener
couldn’t help it, she reached up, stroking Jo’s cheek and neck.
Jean held her breath, the words feathered out over her lips. She
wanted to kiss her. “Didn’t have to..”

The stirring
stopped. “Jean..”

The older woman
sighed softly, last thing she wanted was to make her uncomfortable.
With all the drama, she wasn’t sure where they stood. “Sorry..I’ll
be right back.”

Quick steps
with heavy boots up the stairs. She’d brushed them off on the mat
before coming in. The polished surfaces of the bathroom shining, a
tap turned. Jean frowned into the mirror, wiping a dot of potting
mix off her cheek with a sudsy hand. Scrubbing her nails with the
little brush on the vanity.

The sound of
running water stopped, a voice from the stairwell. “Jean?”

“In here Jo.”
Hazelnut eyes looked at herself in the mirror, a shake of her head,
annoyed with herself.

The tall blonde
entered and stood behind her. A tentative hand rested on her
back.

A sigh. “Sorry,
I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, last thing I want is for
you to think you owe me anything.” She looked at the blonde
reflected behind her.

Jo nodded. “I
don’t.“ The hand slid down her shoulder. They shared a shy smile in
the mirror. Jean wiped her hands, turning, she found the doorway
blocked.

Her intake of
breath was sharp, the blonde’s hand moved to stroke along her jaw,
ending up in her hair. “Oh Jo..”

She pulled the
older woman closer, their lips meeting softly. A hum of
contentment, tanned arms looped around the taller waist. Jean
pulled back, before melting into a more passionate exchange.

Foreheads
touched together, Jo’s breath caught in her throat.
“Should..probably head back downstairs. Don’t want anything to
burn.”

***

Dinner was
wonderful, salmon and accompaniments. Then she heard all about
their day. Joyful broken sentences about horses and grass and
watching the birds. It made the older woman smile, and the child’s
mother shake her head in amusement. The blonde rested her head on
her knuckles, grazing the outdoor rattan with her nails. Watching
the sunset from their nook under the eaves, breathing in the
tranquillity while she could. A loose peasant shirt and jeans. Jo’s
equivalent to around-the-house clothes.

Annabelle had
worn herself out, and her droopy eyes indicated she needed sleep.
Must have been all the running around. Little hands pawed at the
outdoor furniture. The night was painting the sky ultramarine and
coal.

“Time for bed?”
Inferring to the child. Jean hadn’t meant anything by it, but she
saw a little blush colour the blonde’s cheek, as though she were
distracted from more private thoughts.

“I usually read
to her.” The policewoman sighed. “At least she knows she has my
attention before she goes to sleep. Lately, I’ve been worried all
this will affect her.”

A hand rubbed
her shoulder. “Good for her to have a constant in her life. You’re
good at this Jo.” Met with a shrug of the blonde’s shoulders, the
mother seemed concerned from the look in her grey eyes.

Jo’s droll
voice in the evening air. “I’ll find out if she needs therapy
later.”

***

A small
collection of picture books had been brought with them. Featuring
obnoxiously cute baby animals and the feature to make them talk.
Jean could hear quacks, meows and barking from down the hall as she
brushed her teeth. She stepped into the shower. Turning on the
taps. A dull buzz, the lights flickered, then went out. She stood
there in darkness a moment before finding her clothes by touch on
the rail.

“Dammit.” She
cursed softly under her breath. This happened sometimes. Some issue
with the fuses, an old house with the occasional quirk. Usually
doing a reset downstairs got it working again.

She heard Jo’s
voice in the dark. “Jean?”

“It’s OK, fuses
do this occasionally. I’ll fix it down stairs.” She felt around in
the bedroom nightstand for a torch. A click and a beam of light
followed, she nodded, pleased that this one had working
batteries.

She walked past
the guest room, flicking the beam down onto the ground so they
could see her. “It’s OK, does this sometimes. Be right back.”

Jean grumbled
to herself as she walked down stairs.
Figures this would happen
tonight, when she wanted her guests to have a nice restful
sleep.
She reached the fuse box outside the front door and
lifted the lid, the torch in her mouth. She pushed the plastic
levers up and down. Split into sections. With a flick part of the
house came back on, the upstairs stayed in darkness. D.I.Y
electrics always proved interesting.

Nothing but a
busted fuse, and she didn’t have any spares.

She gave the
levers one last hopeful flick, to no avail. When she closed the
front door and came back in Jo was waiting for her in the hall. She
rolled her eyes and huffed in apology. “Sorry Jo, damn house.
Figures it would do this tonight. There are candles in the kitchen
if you need light upstairs.”

Jo smiled at
her, a slow easy grin that reached her eyes. “Relax Jean? Isn’t
that what you’re always telling me?”

Jean couldn’t
help but smile back.

***

Showering in
the dark by torchlight was far less romantic than it sounded. The
bathroom seemed to echo with every splash, and bottles and smaller
objects cast peculiar shadows across her body. A lather of soap,
she scrubbed her short hair with shampoo, getting out the grit and
sweat of working during the day. At least she’d come home to Jo and
Annabelle. How welcoming it felt to have the house warmed by the
beautiful woman and her daughter. Jo’s smile at the table as they
held hands, and the little blue eyes that looked up at her
curiously from the rug.

A rub down with
the fluffy white towel, her hair still damp, she pulled on her
typical sleeping attire. A clean white t-shirt and cotton boxers. A
thin dab of moisturiser while looking at her self in the mirror and
she was ready for bed. Hopefully Jo hadn’t already settled for the
evening, she looked forward to the hug and the good night kiss.

Opening the
door to her bedroom, a brow quirked, she hadn’t remembered leaving
it so bright. She turned the corner and padded into the room. The
sight stole her breath. A room lit brightly with glowing stout
white candles, raided from her supply in the kitchen. Music coming
from somewhere, softly playing, the likely source being the phone
on her bedside table. Her eyes drifted over her bed, and more
importantly the person in it, who was looking back at her with a
sultry smile.

“Jo?..”

Her temple
propped against her knuckles, the quilt caressing her bare thigh
with a languid touch. A pale silky chemise and matching panties.
The bedding on Jean’s side was already pulled back in a neat
triangle.

“She’s
asleep..you don’t mind if I join you?” Her fingertips trailed over
the pillows.

“Not sure I can
form a sentence..would a nod be sufficient?”

Jo smiled
gently at her. The older woman pulled back the quilt and sheet as
she slid in, her eyes trailing over the beautiful woman. She’d only
expected a good night kiss.
This was..unexpected..and so much
better.


As soon as
Jean’s upper back was cushioned by the pillows propped against the
headboard, Jo moved like quicksilver. A sudden warmth and weight as
long lean thighs straddled her hips, Jo’s satin briefs pressing
against her groin. Jean’s breath stolen as she looked up into the
darkened grey eyes. The silky camisole left little to the
imagination. Jean so rarely saw her with her hair down, it draped
over her chest in a pale cascade.

The older woman
shook her head, a smile on her face. Her hands slid up the smooth
bare thighs, resting on Jo’s hips.

“You take my
breath away Jo.”

The blonde
smiled, leaning down to kiss her, when she pulled back Jean
gathered the golden strands in her hands, brushing them away from
the policewoman’s face.

Rather than a
reply, Jo released a held breath, taking the older woman’s hands
and placing them over her own breasts. Jean moaned softly, the
points hardened under her palms, the thin satin allowing her to
feel every contour. Jean pulled herself upright, tanned arms easing
Jo forward to slide more into her lap. A little shudder from the
brunette at the sudden contact, she ran a fingertip over Jo’s
cheekbone. Jo adjusted too, from kneeling, to loosely wrapping her
long legs around her older lover’s waist.

The blonde
threaded fingertips through the brunette’s damp hair, mewling
softly as they kissed. Her lover’s hands wanted to read Jo like a
map, familiarising every curve and bend into memory. Fingertips
running over her fair skin, the toned muscle of her arms and
stomach, how soft it became over her neck and chest.

Jo seemed to
have made peace with her doubt. Threading her fingers through
Jean’s hair as they kissed and caressed. A soft gasp when her neck
was suckled. Smooth lips over her pulse point, the creamy skin
tingled from the attention. Long fingertips held Jean in place, as
the gardener’s palm slid up to cup her breast. Massaging the
hardened point, her lips enthralled by her younger lover’s kiss.
Fingertips skittered under the waistband of her cotton shorts, then
retreated. A shared breath as Jo’s hands slid under the hem of
Jean’s shirt, wanting it gone. A couple of abrupt tugs upward,
revealing an olive midriff.

A smile at
Joanne’s impatience. Jean raised her arms, as Jo shimmied the shirt
off of her. For a moment her younger lover just looked at her bare
skin. When the palms slid over her hardened nipples Jean thought
she’d catch alight. The hands ended up sliding over her chest, her
neck, down over her shoulder blades.

She wanted Jo
to feel what she was feeling. As though all the blood in her body
had surged under the skin to meet the fair wandering hands. Her
fingertips found the bottom hem of the blonde’s camisole, slipping
inside. Gliding up to cup her breasts. A sudden moan and nip
against Jean’s throat. Her tanned hands kneaded the bare sensitive
flesh. Thumbs skimming over taut skin, another groan as pink
nipples pressed against her palms.

The blonde’s
head tipped back as Jean touched her, a smile from the gardener at
the eager reaction to pleasure. She lowered her head, dragging her
teeth lightly over the nipple, her hands still working the fevered
skin. Senses heightened, Jo could feel every pass of her tongue,
her hips ground slowly against Jean of their own accord.

Their lips met
again for a kiss, breaths ragged. Jo raised her arms, her older
lover sliding the silky singlet from her body, tossing it lightly
nearby. Sensual curves, a delight for the eyes. Arms slipped around
Jo’s waist, their press together making them both moan. Hardened
points and sensitive skin. Satin warmth and mingled breath.