Too Close to Touch (17 page)

Gretchen shook her head. “Not for me and not for my mom. He took my brother everywhere with him, though.”

“You’re close to your mom?”

“I was. She passed away ten years ago.”

“Oh, Gretchen. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

The waiter stopped by and reÞ lled their wineglasses from the bottle sitting in a nearby ice bucket.

• 120 •

TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

“So, needless to say,” Gretchen went on, “I have mixed emotions about this surgery.”

Kylie frowned. “What do you mean?”

Gretchen hesitated. “Part of me wants to be there and part of me thinks, ‘I’ve got work to do. What good will it do for me to sit around a hospital for hours? It’s not like he’ll know I’m there. And not like he’ll care.’”

Kylie nearly choked on her food. “Gretchen, you
have
to be there.

You have to!”

A look of slight surprise crossed Gretchen’s face. “Why? He was never there for me.”

Kylie leaned across the table and her eyes bored into Gretchen’s.

“Because you’re better than he is.” She was satisÞ ed to see Gretchen blinking, absorbing the idea. “And because if you don’t go and—God forbid—something happens, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

Gretchen pressed her lips together and several emotions zipped across her face. It was the most animation Kylie had ever experienced from Gretchen, on a personal level, and she was inordinately pleased to have been the catalyst.

Their eyes met and held across the table.

“You should be there,” Kylie stressed again.

Gretchen nodded. “You’re right.”

Deciding it was time to ease the tension, Kylie raised her glass.

“To me being right.”

A laugh burst from Gretchen’s throat and she touched her glass to Kylie’s just as the trendy young waiter appeared with their dinners.

After he set Kylie’s pasta in front of her and an enormous strip steak in front of Gretchen, he topped off their glasses and politely departed.

Gretchen speared a green bean with her fork and gazed across the table at Kylie. “I can’t believe I told you all that. It’s sort of…unlike me to go on about myself. I apologize.”

“What in the world for? Telling somebody about yourself when they’ve asked you to tell them about yourself is nothing to apologize for, Gretchen. It’s called having a personal conversation. People do it all the time.”

“Ha ha.” Gretchen slid a piece of steak into her mouth, then pointed her empty fork at Kylie. “So…tell me about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

• 121 •

GEORGIA BEERS

“Tell me about Angie.”

“Ah. Right for the dirt, huh? I didn’t expect you to be so predictable, Ms. Kaiser.”

Gretchen laughed.

“Angie’s wonderful. She’s sweet and loving and kind. Big heart.”

Gretchen arched one eyebrow. “But?”

“But we had nothing in common and no chemistry.” Kylie chuckled. “We never should have been together in the Þ rst place. You know how it goes with lesbians. We had one good date, thought it must be fate and that we were meant to be together, and spent the next two years trying to Þ gure out how to break up with each other.”

They both shook their heads in amused dismay.

“Only two years?” Gretchen asked. “You got off easy.”

“Tell me about it.”

“How long ago was that?”

Kylie had to think for a moment. “About a year? A year and a half? Something around there.”

“And nobody special since then?”

Kylie looked directly at Gretchen. “No. Nobody since then,” she answered softly.

“What about Mick?”

“Mick?” The question surprised her. “Oh, no. Mick’s my best friend, but we’re not…I don’t…oh, no.” She shook her head adamantly.

“We’re just friends.”

Gretchen put a forkful of baked potato into her mouth and studied Kylie before asking her next question. “Does she know that?”

“What do you mean?”

Gretchen cocked her head in a way that said
you’re kidding me,
right?
“Kylie. Come on.”

“What?”

“Have you never seen the way she looks at you?”

“Mick?”

“She’s crazy about you.”

“No. We’re friends. That’s all.”

Gretchen scrutinized Kylie for so long that Kylie began to Þ dget in her seat. Finally, Gretchen gave a resigned shrug and said, “Okay.”

Kylie wondered at the fact that she seemed completely unconvinced.

Maybe she’d just never experienced a friendship as close as the one Kylie had with Mick. “What about you?”

• 122 •

TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

“What about me?”

“Nobody special?”

Gretchen took a sip of her wine. “No. Not in a long, long time.”

Something in the wistfulness of her tone told Kylie not to pry further, so she changed the subject all together. “How’d you end up at Emerson?”

“Remember Jessica Scott?”

“The headhunter?”

“That’s the one. I was at Kaplan and completely disgusted by their managerial ethics, or lack thereof. I was ready to get out and Jessica called me at just the right time. She keeps me aware of what’s going on in my Þ eld.”

Kylie squinted at her. “Why’s she calling now?”

“She probably just wants to see how things are going. She might have heard through the grapevine that upper management was happy with our budget revisions. She might just want to say hi.” Gretchen’s eyes glinted and a light bulb went on in Kylie’s head.

“She’s your ex!”

“Not exactly.”

“You’ve slept with her, though.”

“There was a time or two. We’ve…kept in touch.”

Kylie felt the unfamiliar tingle of jealousy well up in her gut and didn’t like it. Deciding another subject change was in order, she asked,

“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?”

“Greece.”

“Wow. You answered that fast.”

Gretchen smiled. “I’ve just always wanted to go there.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Who has time?”

“Oh, that’s right. You work twenty-four hours a day. I forgot.”

Kylie grinned. “That’s why God made vacations, Gretch.”

“I know. I know. You’re right.” Gretchen dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “One of these days.”

“Why Greece?”

“I’ve always been fascinated by Greek mythology. I’d love to see all the places that show up in the stories, you know? Everything there is so old, so mystical.”

“Plus, the food is great.”

“You like Greek food?”

• 123 •

GEORGIA BEERS

“Love it.”

“There’s a new little place near my apartment. I hear the baklava is to die for. We’ll have to try that next time.”

Kylie sipped her wine. “I’d like that.”

They were silent for several long seconds. Kylie wondered if Gretchen was thinking the same thing she was: had they just made a date? Gretchen Þ nally spoke, asking, “So, what do you think of this place?”

“I thought my opinion didn’t matter to you,” Kylie responded wryly.

Gretchen’s cheeks colored a light pink. She bit her lower lip, as if accepting this fate. “You know what? I was a little harsh when I said that to you. Unnecessarily so. I’m sorry about that.”

Kylie was genuinely taken aback. She’d been teasing, yes, but she hadn’t expected an apology. “Hey, you were doing your job. You felt I was out of line. I get that.”

“Still. I apologize for hurting your feelings.”

“Then I accept your apology,” Kylie said, touched. “Thank you.”

She wiped her mouth with her napkin and sat back in her chair. “Wow.

That was good.”

Gretchen sat forward, her forearms on the table. She looked more at ease than Kylie had seen her since they’d met. “I’m having a terriÞ c time.” She said it quietly, as though letting Kylie in on a secret.

Kylie was inordinately pleased with the remark. “Me, too.”

“Thanks for agreeing to be my date for the evening.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for asking me.”

They eyed each other. Without letting go of Kylie’s gaze, Gretchen waved for the waiter and said, “I’m going to order dessert. Want to share?”

For some reason the invitation sounded deliciously intimate. Kylie blamed the wine. “The chocolate raspberry torte looked good.”

A few minutes later, the waiter dropped off an elegant-looking plate and two forks, setting the dessert knowingly right in the center of the table. He poured two cups of coffee and left them to their chocolate.

“Holy crap,” Kylie said, eyeing the dessert. It was a thick triangle of rich, dark chocolate drizzled with a deep red raspberry sauce, and just looking at it made her feel guilty. “It’s too pretty to eat.”

“Nonsense.” Gretchen picked up a fork, sliced off the tip, rubbed it through the raspberry sauce, and held it up over the table. “You Þ rst.”

• 124 •

TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

Kylie’s heart skipped a beat before she leaned forward and took the forkful of decadence into her mouth. Gretchen’s lips parted slightly in tandem with hers and she watched closely as the fork came out clean.

It was an alarmingly sexy gesture that caused a spark low in Kylie’s belly.

“Oh, my God.” She snatched up the other fork as the chocolate melted on her tongue. “Oh, my God, that’s good. Sinful. Christ.” She chewed slowly, wanting to enjoy the taste for as long as possible.

Hardly daring to believe they were complicit in this sensuous eating experience, she sank the fork into the torte, then held a mouthful up.

“Your turn.”

Gretchen’s eyes grew impossibly darker, and the pangs Kylie kept feeling merged to a constant ache as Gretchen took the bite of dessert. Eyes closed, moaning softly, she held the fork in her mouth as if she couldn’t bear to release it. Kylie watched in aroused fascination, worried she might choke on her own excitement as she slowly eased the fork from between Gretchen’s lips. She could not believe how much of a turn-on it was to feed her.

“You’re right.” Gretchen opened her eyes and refocused on Kylie.

“Absolutely sinful. Good Lord.”

“Told you.”

“Good choice.” Gretchen used her fork to cut herself another bite.

Kylie was relieved they were now using their own forks, not certain she could survive another minute of feeding Gretchen without bursting into ß ames. Convinced her arousal had to be written all over her face, she dragged her eyes away from her date and lowered her head a little, trying to concentrate on the food. She didn’t have a lot of luck.

v

The night air was wonderfully pleasant—not too warm, not too cool, as they sat in Gretchen’s car in Kylie’s driveway, both reluctant to say good night.

“I had a really nice time tonight, Gretchen.” Kylie smiled warmly, and Gretchen noted how the twilight cast a bluish shadow across her face, highlighting her exquisite cheekbones.

“Me, too.”

“Thank you.”

• 125 •

GEORGIA BEERS

“It was my pleasure.”

Their eyes held and it would have been the most natural thing in the world for Gretchen to lean over and kiss Kylie softly on those full lips. It had taken every ounce of strength she could Þ nd to keep from doing just that and she was pretty sure Kylie had known it, that Kylie felt it. When the moment had passed, when it was obvious that Gretchen
wasn’t
going to kiss her, Kylie’s sweet, open face held an expression that was the perfect blend of disappointment and relief.

Letting herself out of the car, she bent to make eye contact with Gretchen once more. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sleep well, Kylie.”

Gretchen watched until she was sure Kylie was safely into her house before releasing the breath she’d been holding. Then she drove home like a bat out of hell. Once she reached the lot of her building, she slammed the car into park and stared off into space for a long time, reliving the evening in her head and wondering what the hell she was supposed to do now.

“Fuck,” she muttered as she slowly dropped her forehead against the steering wheel over and over and over.

v

Back in her little house, Kylie shot the door bolt with more force than usual and marched into her living room. She ß opped down onto her couch, ß at on her back. She was almost used to the feeling of missing Rip, who would have jumped up to be near her. Kicking her ß ats onto the ß oor, she blew out a frustrated breath, took one of the striped throw pillows and held it over her face, then screamed as loudly as she could.

“I
cannot
have a thing for her,” she said to the ceiling fan. “I can’t.

She’s my boss. God damn it.”

• 126 •

TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It was after ten when Kylie heard the garage door open and her sister pull in. She stuck the bookmark into the Lisa Gardner novel she’d been reading and stretched her arms over her head, kicking the remaining throw pillow off the couch as she did so.

The side door opened just as she was clicking off the
Law & Order
rerun she’d had on for company.

“Hey, Ky.” Erin breezed in and set her purse down on the kitchen table. She was a taller, thinner version of Kylie. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No problem.” Kylie didn’t mind at all. She was happy to give her big sister a much-deserved break.

With three children and a full-time job, Erin didn’t get much time to herself. True, her choice of outing was just a Tupperware party, but it was probably populated with women just like her who desperately needed a night away from their houses and families. With both Erin’s teenagers away at friends’ houses and her husband out of town on business for the week, she had just needed somebody to take care of four-year-old Becky, and Kylie was more than willing.

“She was good?”

“Always.” Kylie loved spending time with her youngest niece.

“Uh-huh. For you, maybe.” Erin’s voice was skeptical, but she softened it with a smile. “What did you do?” She plopped down on the chair, her reddish blond hair escaping its clip little by little in rebellious wisps.