Christa by Keziah Hill Page A

been shaken up. For months Christa had tried to entice her to one of the foundation’s fundraising functions, only to have her make excuses every time. They’d never actually met, communicating via email.
    â€œI think Effie will make an exception for you,” Christa said. She held out her hand. “I’m Christa Forsyth. We’ve been playing email tag.”
    Christa noticed the slight hesitation before the other woman held out her hand.
    â€œOh, so we have. Good to meet you finally,” she said in an American accent, overlaid with something else Christa couldn’t quite identify.
    Her hand in Christa’s was both soft and firm. A strong woman and a stunning woman, Christa registered at the back of her mind. Tall, athletic and stylish. Her blonde hair was held up in a French roll with one wisp artfully falling across her face, softening her icy blue eyes and her executive woman persona. A Nordic Goddess come to earth.
    She wore a pale gold silk shirt tucked into dark navy trousers. Discreet gold and diamond sparkled at her ears and matched a diamond pendant around her neck.
    Something uncoiled in the pit of Christa’s belly. Something naughty and delighted.
    â€œI’m sorry you couldn’t make it to the fundraiser tomorrow. In fact, I’m just on my way to the airport to pick up my husband. He’s been in Mozambique for the last month doing reconstructive surgery in an orphanage.”
    Wouldn’t hurt to lay it on thick. Not that it wasn’t true.
    â€œReally?” she said, sounding both guilty and fascinated. “I didn’t know he went himself. I know he’s a plastic surgeon...”
    â€œYes. When he’s over there he specialises in surgery for children who’ve experienced burns and other disfigurements through land mines. Sometimes also acid burns for women who’ve been abused by their husbands or other male relatives. He does the surgery and I bully people like you into handing over money.”
    She laughed. “I had no idea. What fabulous work.” She had the grace to look a little shamefaced. “I really shouldn’t have dodged you. If I’d known...”
    â€œYou could still come to the cocktail party tomorrow, if you want to. It’s very relaxed. We want people to have a good time too. Sure, I’ll hit you for some money, but the experience doesn’t have to be unpleasant.”
    Christa couldn’t help a quick glance at the creamy skin of Elizabeth’s neck and cleavage and smiled to herself at the button that pulled, just a little, between the other woman’s round, firm breasts. She could see, very faintly, the outline of her nipples. She shifted her gaze to Elizabeth’s face and thought she saw something glint in her eyes. Some interest that wasn’t just philanthropic.
    Well, well. Marc and she hadn’t played with a woman in a while.
    But maybe she was wrong. Maybe she just wanted Elizabeth to show some interest in her because Christa’s panties were getting more and more damp at the thought of the Nordic Goddess in her bed. More to the point, in her and Marc’s bed. With Marc watching. Her pulse kicked up.
    Elizabeth smiled at her. “When you put it like that, I’ll have to come.”
    Effie bustled out of the back room with Marc’s suit and what looked like a cocktail dress for Elizabeth. “I thought that was you, Ms Underwood. Here’s your dress. So beautiful.”
    Christa saw a midnight blue sparkly dress under the dry cleaner’s plastic.
    â€œCome to the cocktail party and wear that,” she said impulsively, making it sound like a demand.
    Her nipples pebbled at the quick glance and wry smile Elizabeth turned on her.
    â€œI’d love to,” she said.
    â€œGood.”
    The two women professed their eternal gratitude to Effie and walked out together in the same direction.
    â€œHow are you finding Sydney?” Christa asked.