her pockets.
Searching for a neutral thing to say, Gillian finally asked, “Have you seen the show before?”
“Yes. I have. But I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it.” Her smile didn’t fully reach her eyes.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, sure.” Sam looked at her watch. “Come on. I’ll take you back to the apartment.”
Gillian’s stomach started to hurt. Where moments ago they had nearly been kissing, now the distance between them was a gaping chasm. And Gillian had a pretty good idea what had happened. “Hey.” She reached out and took hold of Sam’s hand.
Sam looked down at their linked fingers, confusion written all over her face.
“About the apartment.” Gillian swallowed on a mouth gone dry, “I took a taxi. Would it be all right with you if you took me home?”
Sam’s eyebrows nearly crept up her head. “To where you live?”
“Yes.”
“All right. No, no problem at all. But…you’re sure?”
Gillian shrugged. “No goodbye kisses in front of the house.”
Sam grinned and this time her eyes twinkled. “We could provide them with a special kind of show.”
“I’d rather not.”
“That’s a damn shame.”
CHAPTER 12
Loud music blared out of a passing car. A tall woman with Doc Martens hurried across the street, a bright green backpack over her shoulder.
Gillian’s gaze was drawn to the boots. They look exactly like Sam’s. Her heart started to beat a bit faster. Well, they would without the pink bootlaces. And Sam would probably never wear a short skirt. Sam’s ass was a lot hotter as well. And—
“Gillian, honey. Hello? Are you listening?”
Gillian tore her gaze away from the woman in the Doc Martens and looked at Rachel, who was dressed in a stylish white top, toffee trousers, and black heels—and still the Doc Martens stirred Gillian more. Much more. “Yes, sorry. I was daydreaming.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow. “You certainly didn’t hear one word I said.”
Shit. “I’m really sorry. I’m a bit tired today.” Gillian rubbed her eyes.
“You do look a little under the weather. You could have said no when I phoned and asked if you wanted to go shopping.”
“I know.” Gillian rubbed the back of her neck. “I know. But I had to go downtown anyway and pick up a dress for Angela at Murphy’s.”
“That sounds enthusiastic…” Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “Is everything all right with you?”
Sure. I’ve been having amazing sex with women. Several times. One woman in particular and I can’t stop thinking about her. I hate my life. I hate my dead husband. I’m a lesbian or bi or whatever...everything is perfectly all right. Peachy really. Gillian plastered a smile on her face. “Everything is fine. Thank you for asking. It’s just that I woke up in the night and couldn’t go to sleep again. It happens sometimes.” One thing she had learned since Derrick’s death was that playing on other people’s pity was a good way of redirecting attention. And it wasn’t a lie that she had trouble sleeping most nights.
“Oh, I know exactly what you mean. I have a hard time going back to sleep once I’ve woken up. Especially when Harry is not there.” Rachel’s voice was surprisingly gentle. She laid her hand on Gillian’s shoulder. “You’re still not used to not having Derrick around, right? I can’t imagine how you cope without him.”
Very well, thank you. “It’s not easy at times.” Gillian sighed to give her statement more emphasis. Guilt nagged at her conscience. Playing the mourning widow wasn’t a role she liked to play. Maybe meeting with Rachel had been a bad idea.
“You should really take up tennis again. Or come to the girls’ nights.” Rachel pursed her lips. “We could meet for breakfast again. We haven’t done that for a few weeks.”
Hell, no. There was no way she would be having breakfast or sipping cocktails with the wives’ again any time soon—or ever. “Maybe. But…I think I need more time. And the
Searching for a neutral thing to say, Gillian finally asked, “Have you seen the show before?”
“Yes. I have. But I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it.” Her smile didn’t fully reach her eyes.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, sure.” Sam looked at her watch. “Come on. I’ll take you back to the apartment.”
Gillian’s stomach started to hurt. Where moments ago they had nearly been kissing, now the distance between them was a gaping chasm. And Gillian had a pretty good idea what had happened. “Hey.” She reached out and took hold of Sam’s hand.
Sam looked down at their linked fingers, confusion written all over her face.
“About the apartment.” Gillian swallowed on a mouth gone dry, “I took a taxi. Would it be all right with you if you took me home?”
Sam’s eyebrows nearly crept up her head. “To where you live?”
“Yes.”
“All right. No, no problem at all. But…you’re sure?”
Gillian shrugged. “No goodbye kisses in front of the house.”
Sam grinned and this time her eyes twinkled. “We could provide them with a special kind of show.”
“I’d rather not.”
“That’s a damn shame.”
CHAPTER 12
Loud music blared out of a passing car. A tall woman with Doc Martens hurried across the street, a bright green backpack over her shoulder.
Gillian’s gaze was drawn to the boots. They look exactly like Sam’s. Her heart started to beat a bit faster. Well, they would without the pink bootlaces. And Sam would probably never wear a short skirt. Sam’s ass was a lot hotter as well. And—
“Gillian, honey. Hello? Are you listening?”
Gillian tore her gaze away from the woman in the Doc Martens and looked at Rachel, who was dressed in a stylish white top, toffee trousers, and black heels—and still the Doc Martens stirred Gillian more. Much more. “Yes, sorry. I was daydreaming.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow. “You certainly didn’t hear one word I said.”
Shit. “I’m really sorry. I’m a bit tired today.” Gillian rubbed her eyes.
“You do look a little under the weather. You could have said no when I phoned and asked if you wanted to go shopping.”
“I know.” Gillian rubbed the back of her neck. “I know. But I had to go downtown anyway and pick up a dress for Angela at Murphy’s.”
“That sounds enthusiastic…” Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “Is everything all right with you?”
Sure. I’ve been having amazing sex with women. Several times. One woman in particular and I can’t stop thinking about her. I hate my life. I hate my dead husband. I’m a lesbian or bi or whatever...everything is perfectly all right. Peachy really. Gillian plastered a smile on her face. “Everything is fine. Thank you for asking. It’s just that I woke up in the night and couldn’t go to sleep again. It happens sometimes.” One thing she had learned since Derrick’s death was that playing on other people’s pity was a good way of redirecting attention. And it wasn’t a lie that she had trouble sleeping most nights.
“Oh, I know exactly what you mean. I have a hard time going back to sleep once I’ve woken up. Especially when Harry is not there.” Rachel’s voice was surprisingly gentle. She laid her hand on Gillian’s shoulder. “You’re still not used to not having Derrick around, right? I can’t imagine how you cope without him.”
Very well, thank you. “It’s not easy at times.” Gillian sighed to give her statement more emphasis. Guilt nagged at her conscience. Playing the mourning widow wasn’t a role she liked to play. Maybe meeting with Rachel had been a bad idea.
“You should really take up tennis again. Or come to the girls’ nights.” Rachel pursed her lips. “We could meet for breakfast again. We haven’t done that for a few weeks.”
Hell, no. There was no way she would be having breakfast or sipping cocktails with the wives’ again any time soon—or ever. “Maybe. But…I think I need more time. And the
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