claim to that sentiment to justify their urges.
She sipped her whiskey and gathered herself. She was a disgrace to players all over the globe and a walking cliché. She should get up right now, burble some lame excuse, and get the hell out of here. How many warning signs did she need? She didn’t make love with women.
She didn’t fall in love . Normally at this point in a dinner assignation, her entire train of thought revolved around scoring as quickly as possible and planning an exit strategy that would avoid complications. Angry husbands and messy lesbian divorce dramas like the one in Brookline could ruin even the warmest afterglow.
Ash stared bleakly at the menu. Nothing sounded appetizing and the descriptions of the dishes seemed weirdly sexual. Chicken bathed in a velvet merlot sauce. Succulent oysters clinging to the half shell. Ash didn’t want to dip crusty French bread into a warm artichoke spread, she wanted to dip her tongue into Charlotte. And, shockingly, she wanted to wake up to her the next morning.
• 75 •
JENNIFER FULTON
There had to be a reasonable explanation for her disturbing mind-set. Was she having some kind of reaction to the stressful situation with Emma? The thought of possibly losing the one person left in the world who knew her and loved her no matter what, the person her universe had revolved around for so long, was unbearable. Had it driven her into a panic state?
Charlotte possessed something Ash also saw in Emma, an innocence and tenderness that brought out the best in her. When she was with Emma, she tried to be the person her sister thought she was. A good person. Someone who led a blameless existence and could always be depended upon. And she actually felt like that person. She needed that and she was afraid that if she lost Emma, the feeling would be lost with her.
“I’m sorry, did I say something to offend you?” Charlotte studied her with a trace of alarm.
Ash shook her head, realizing it had been her turn to speak but she was too busy navel-gazing. “No. Just having a menu dilemma.” Leave now, she thought. “Listen, I need to make a call before we eat.”
“Would you like me to order for you?”
“Sure, thanks. The ginger chicken skewers.” Ash made a show of Þ shing her cell phone from her jacket. She could feel Charlotte’s eyes on her as she rose and walked away.
She headed out into the stiß ing night air and stood a few yards from the doorman, wondering why she’d imagined that standing out here in this tropical soup would help clear her head. Having dinner with Charlotte Lascelles was the dumbest decision she’d made in years. Did she crave self-punishment? Did she want to spend a whole evening staring down the barrels of the life she might have had, the kind of woman she could have come home to every day, if things were very different? Ash paced up and down and puffed on a cigar, thinking through her options.
The pragmatic, sensible choice was to write a quick note claiming she’d been called away, pay for the meal, depart, and never look back.
The next option was to play the game she knew—get Charlotte into bed, have a good time, and say good-bye. Yet even supposing Charlotte wasn’t pissed when Ash Þ nally owned up to being a woman, and even if she was both a lesbian and willing to be seduced by someone she barely knew, Ash was strangely uneasy about the idea of a one-night stand with her.
• 76 •
MORE THAN PARADISE
So what was the point in being here? What did she think was going to happen? She already knew they would never have a relationship.
Apart from the small matter that they lived in two different countries and probably had nothing in common, Ash had chosen a life that could only be complicated by the existence of loved ones. She did business with ugly people who used ugly methods to get what they wanted, and one thing she would never give them was an emotional lever. She had to be able to say no, or hold out for her
She sipped her whiskey and gathered herself. She was a disgrace to players all over the globe and a walking cliché. She should get up right now, burble some lame excuse, and get the hell out of here. How many warning signs did she need? She didn’t make love with women.
She didn’t fall in love . Normally at this point in a dinner assignation, her entire train of thought revolved around scoring as quickly as possible and planning an exit strategy that would avoid complications. Angry husbands and messy lesbian divorce dramas like the one in Brookline could ruin even the warmest afterglow.
Ash stared bleakly at the menu. Nothing sounded appetizing and the descriptions of the dishes seemed weirdly sexual. Chicken bathed in a velvet merlot sauce. Succulent oysters clinging to the half shell. Ash didn’t want to dip crusty French bread into a warm artichoke spread, she wanted to dip her tongue into Charlotte. And, shockingly, she wanted to wake up to her the next morning.
• 75 •
JENNIFER FULTON
There had to be a reasonable explanation for her disturbing mind-set. Was she having some kind of reaction to the stressful situation with Emma? The thought of possibly losing the one person left in the world who knew her and loved her no matter what, the person her universe had revolved around for so long, was unbearable. Had it driven her into a panic state?
Charlotte possessed something Ash also saw in Emma, an innocence and tenderness that brought out the best in her. When she was with Emma, she tried to be the person her sister thought she was. A good person. Someone who led a blameless existence and could always be depended upon. And she actually felt like that person. She needed that and she was afraid that if she lost Emma, the feeling would be lost with her.
“I’m sorry, did I say something to offend you?” Charlotte studied her with a trace of alarm.
Ash shook her head, realizing it had been her turn to speak but she was too busy navel-gazing. “No. Just having a menu dilemma.” Leave now, she thought. “Listen, I need to make a call before we eat.”
“Would you like me to order for you?”
“Sure, thanks. The ginger chicken skewers.” Ash made a show of Þ shing her cell phone from her jacket. She could feel Charlotte’s eyes on her as she rose and walked away.
She headed out into the stiß ing night air and stood a few yards from the doorman, wondering why she’d imagined that standing out here in this tropical soup would help clear her head. Having dinner with Charlotte Lascelles was the dumbest decision she’d made in years. Did she crave self-punishment? Did she want to spend a whole evening staring down the barrels of the life she might have had, the kind of woman she could have come home to every day, if things were very different? Ash paced up and down and puffed on a cigar, thinking through her options.
The pragmatic, sensible choice was to write a quick note claiming she’d been called away, pay for the meal, depart, and never look back.
The next option was to play the game she knew—get Charlotte into bed, have a good time, and say good-bye. Yet even supposing Charlotte wasn’t pissed when Ash Þ nally owned up to being a woman, and even if she was both a lesbian and willing to be seduced by someone she barely knew, Ash was strangely uneasy about the idea of a one-night stand with her.
• 76 •
MORE THAN PARADISE
So what was the point in being here? What did she think was going to happen? She already knew they would never have a relationship.
Apart from the small matter that they lived in two different countries and probably had nothing in common, Ash had chosen a life that could only be complicated by the existence of loved ones. She did business with ugly people who used ugly methods to get what they wanted, and one thing she would never give them was an emotional lever. She had to be able to say no, or hold out for her
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