Magnetic (19 page)

“It’s hot in there, aren’t you hot? And this group is so slow. Doesn’t it seem like I’m having to explain myself repeatedly?” Layne grabbed Alana by her upper arms. “Excedrin rocks! I’ve never taken it because Jenny claimed it upset her stomach. I’ve never been so alert. Give everybody in the class one.”

“Unhand me,
crackhead
,” Alana said and pulled away. “You drank one of those silver bottles. I saw it in the trash. You probably have enough caffeine in your system to jog back to New Orleans.” Alana shook a finger in Layne’s face. “Don’t drink anything else today but water. It looks like Wimbledon in there, and you’re the tennis ball.”

“Okay, yes, yes, yes.” Layne blotted her lip with the tissue and looked at her watch. “I think this stopped. I should call everyone back in, we’ll be breaking for lunch soon.”

“It’s nine thirty.” Alana gave Layne a shake. “You’ve covered half a day’s material already, and you sound like a fucking chipmunk on helium.”

*******

David joined Alana and Layne for dinner that evening. “Are you tired?” He looked at Layne with concern.

Layne’s eyes looked like slits as she fought to keep them open. Her caffeine high had come and gone, and she felt boneless. “I am.”

“She isn’t feeling well, though she won’t admit it. Your tiger’s been roaming the jungles. There’s no telling what she may’ve picked up.” Alana winked at Layne when she flashed her a grateful but listless smile.

David and Alana began talking, and it all faded into the background until Layne heard her name somewhere in the distance, and something connected with her ankle. “I’ll have the salmon and vegetables,” she blurted out as her eyes flew open.

“Yes, we know because that’s what you ordered.” Alana opened her eyes wide, imploring Layne to do the same.

“Are you really ill?” David asked as he looked at her.

“I took some medicine today, and it has me
hungover
.”

“Such a little trouper.” Alana patted Layne hard on the back. “She suffered through the presentation with the sniffles, refusing any help. You should eat and enjoy a long hot bath.”

“Yes, you should.” David moved his cutlery to the other side of the table as though he feared exposure to Layne’s mysterious malady.

“I don’t want your job, Layne. At one time, I thought I did, but a couple of weeks of putting up with the crap you deal with on a daily basis has convinced me otherwise.” Alana steered Layne into the elevator and propped her against the wall. “Go to bed the minute you walk into your room, don’t even take the time to remove your makeup. In the morning, have one cup of coffee, got it?”

Layne held up a thumb.

“Stacy says hello by the way. I talked to her earlier.”

Layne waved in response, too tired to utter a word, but the mention of Stacy’s name caused the muscles in her stomach to tighten.

“Both of you are a mess,” Alana said disgustedly. “That’s the problem with love, it makes you an idiot.”

“Not in love,” Layne croaked out, “infatuation maybe.”

“Call it what you will.” Alana shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You’re both idiots. Of course, I can say all of this to you right now because you’re nearly drunk with exhaustion and probably won’t remember a thing I said.”

Chapter 21

Stacy stood back and looked at the painting on her easel, exhausted but happy with what she saw. Layne lay wrapped in a sheet, her hand palm up against her forehead as light filtered in through the window and splashed across her hip. Her face was in shadow as she stared out at the night and revealed deep consternation. It was the expression afterward when Stacy rejoined her on the bed that had stuck in Stacy’s mind, but she’d not been able to re-create it. Want and desire had filled Layne’s eyes then, and that was the first moment Stacy felt the pull begin.

The apartment was a wreck. She’d gone only to work, then back home to paint. Takeout containers filled the fridge, dishes piled in the sink, newspapers lay scattered around the couch. She had one day to get the place in order before Alana returned.

Their brief encounter in the bar had filled her with hope. Layne’s expressions were unguarded, and her eyes telegraphed the same longing that Stacy felt. The pull between them was magnetic, and Stacy wasn’t going to let the opportunity to romance Layne pass her by. She’d do everything in her power to sweep Layne off her feet.

*******

Layne would not call the trip a success, but she had survived. Had it not been for Alana stepping in to help her, she feared that she’d be facing unemployment. She tossed her things into her bedroom, kicked off her shoes, and flopped on the couch with her stomach growling. She knew Molly would be cooking dinner, but after the two weeks she’d had, Layne didn’t feel much like company. In the comfort of her own home, she finally relaxed and closed her eyes with a slight smile as sleep came calling.

Layne’s eyes flew open, and she looked at the clock as her mind tried to determine what had awakened her with a start. The answer came quickly when she heard a soft rap on the door. Figuring it was Molly or Jenny, she ran a hand through her hair and yelled, “coming,” as she stumbled across the living room. But when she caught sight of dark hair through the beveled glass, Layne went stock-still. Slowly, she opened the door just a crack and peered at the woman standing on her porch.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Stacy said with a nervous smile, “but I asked Alana to log into her computer and give me your address.” She held up a brown paper bag. “I figured you were tired from your trip and sick of restaurant food, so I made you dinner.”

Stunned, Layne opened the door a bit wider. “Thank you” was all she could think to say as Stacy handed her the bag and backed away.

“I hope you enjoy it, and again, I apologize for the intrusion. Good night.”

“Wait,” Layne said as Stacy turned and started down the steps. She smiled awkwardly as Stacy looked back at her. “I was napping, and I’m kind of scatterbrained. Would you like to come in?”

“Some other time?” Stacy asked with a hopeful tone. “I know you probably just want to relax.”

Layne held up the bag. “You cooked this yourself?”

Stacy nodded and thrust her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Alana says my homemade marinara is one of my better dishes. I can’t claim the bread, though. I picked it up at a bakery near the house. That sort of baking isn’t one of my strengths yet.”

“You like to cook?”

Stacy nodded again. “Very much.”

“Me too,” Layne said, unwilling to let her go. She opened the door all the way. “You made the trip over, why don’t you come in?”

Stacy hesitated for a moment. “As long as you promise to tell me when you’re ready for me to leave. My intention wasn’t to impose.”

“This was very thoughtful,” Layne said as Stacy followed her into the kitchen. “I really wasn’t looking forward to a frozen dinner.”

“Your place is really nice.” Stacy walked around the bar to the back windows overlooking the deck. “I love the backyard.”

“Me too. I haven’t had one since I was a kid.” Layne opened the bag and pulled out the containers, opening each one. The smell of the rich sauce made her mouth water. Great care had been put into the salad with the vegetables cut up in small chunks. Stacy had even cooked the pasta and stored it separately. “I have a bottle of cabernet that would go great with this. I hope you’ll join me.”

“I’ve already eaten.” Stacy turned away from the window. “I’d be willing to have a glass of wine and a slice of bread, though. And I’ll open this.” Stacy took the bottle as Layne set the wine on the counter and held her hand out for the corkscrew. Layne handed it to her and caught Stacy’s steady gaze. “We should talk, but I won’t ask that of you tonight.”

“I know we need to.” Layne sighed as she looked down at the food. “This was so incredibly sweet, and if there weren’t so many extenuating circumstances, I could let myself…” She grimaced. “I don’t know what to do with you, with myself.”

“I understand,” Stacy said as she opened the wine. “I’m dealing with issues, too.” She poured a small amount into one of the glasses Layne set out and sniffed as she twirled the dark liquid, then laughed when Layne looked at her. “Force of habit. I was just about to have you taste it, but you like this or obviously you wouldn’t have bought it.” Stacy added more to the glass, then filled the other.

“You’re probably a lot more discriminating than I am. You may not like it.”

Stacy took a sip. “I think your selection is just fine.”

“What made you decide on bartending?” Layne asked as she sliced the bread.

“Necessity. I had no job prospects when I moved to California, so I took the first thing I could find. Anna had just begun at a law firm, and she was on the bottom rung, so we didn’t have much income coming in. My degree was basically worthless, and I couldn’t see myself behind a desk somewhere, so serving booze kind of suited me.”

Layne regarded Stacy for a moment. “I can’t see you pushing paper.” She grinned. “And I can’t see you in the kitchen, either. You have an untamed air about you.”

“Really?” Stacy said with a smile. “Then it will shock you to know that I also garden. I’m quite tame behind my façade.”

“We may have differing definitions of that word,” Layne said, raising a brow. “Excuse me for just a moment.”

Layne went into the bathroom as a flush ran through her. Being alone with Stacy without fear of interruption made her nervous—not of what Stacy might do, but what she wanted to do. The urge had hit her strongly as they stood there talking like they’d done in Detroit
sans
the innuendo. The tension was still there regardless. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, questioning why and knowing the answer. She’d wanted to push the food aside and put her hands on Stacy.

Layne looked at her reflection in the mirror and asked softly, “What is wrong with you?” She stared at herself as if she fully expected the image that greeted her to explain.
She makes you horny. You haven’t had sex with anyone since her, and you know how great it was. You’re a walking hormone right now, too. Aunt Flow will be here in a couple of weeks. That’s all it is, just sexual desire, stupid. That’s what all of this is really about, just a bunch of erotic memories of your time spent in a mirage after being in the sexual desert for so long. You don’t know her. This isn’t falling in love. This is hormones plain and simple, and you should be old enough to know the difference.

She doused her face with water again, then returned to the kitchen and found that Stacy had moved her plate and salad to the table. Cutlery sat on a napkin near her glass of wine, and the chair had been pulled out. Oh, she’s fucking good, Layne thought as she smiled and said, “Thank you.”

“Alana tells me that you’ll be going back to Seattle in two weeks.” Stacy joined Layne at the table and picked up a slice of bread. “I knew she traveled a lot, but I had no idea it was so often. Do you ever get sick of it?”

Layne spread her napkin over her lap, determined to show that she at least had table manners. Had she been alone or with Jenny and Molly, she would’ve already been covered in sauce. “I’ve been doing it for so long that it’s commonplace now, but I do get tired of it every now and then. Having to be ‘on’ and friendly when I’m not in the mood is the worst. We want the clients to feel positive about what they’re doing, and trying to be that way all the time makes me want to scream. When I get into those moods, I swim at night if the hotel has a pool or sometimes I go to Chuck E. Cheese and beat the hell out of those little gophers that pop up out of the machine. Personally, that’s my favorite. I have all their locations programmed into my phone.”

Stacy laughed genuinely.

The sound of it ripped through Layne like a bolt of lightning. Layne loved the joy that it conveyed and found herself wanting to make Stacy do it again.

“I feel like that sometimes at work, especially when it’s slow and the customers are chatty. I like to run and exercise, but I couldn’t care less about watching sports. After I explain that I don’t follow any teams, politics comes up. And after I tell them that I’m neither Democrat nor Republican, just sensible—hoping to steer clear of that topic—they assume I have no opinion and try to get me to agree with theirs. So I make up a whole persona and regale them with tales of how I’ve hiked all over the country. Wow them with places I’ve only read about in books and magazines.” Stacy shrugged and smiled. “It keeps me entertained.”