The Game of Denial (20 page)

Monica chuckled. "I would forgive you for anything, Joan. You know that."

The car pulled to the curb in front of the exhibition hall where the event was being held. Lou opened the back door. Joan stepped out and offered her hand to Monica. Monica took it and continued to hold it as they made their way into the venue. Joan paused a few times to shake hands with friends or hug others. After each stop Monica sought out Joan's hand again. Joan stopped at the entrance to the main room and handed her invitation to the man at the door to the dining area.

"Mrs. Joan Carmichael and guest," the man told a young woman standing with him at the entry and then looked back approvingly at Joan. "Emma will show you to your seats," he said with a bow of his head before he turned his attention to the next guests.

Joan rested her hand lightly along Monica's waist as they followed the young woman. A row back from the dance floor Emma stopped and swept her hand to their seats. Joan thanked her and held a chair as Monica sat. Once Monica seemed settled, Joan rested her hand on the redhead's shoulder, squeezed lightly, and leaned down.

"Would you care for a drink before dinner?" she asked.

"A Cosmopolitan, please," Monica answered.

"I'll be back in a moment," Joan said as she turned toward the bar which had been set up on the far side of the room.

Monica and Joan chatted with one another and the others at their table throughout dinner. Following two or three brief speeches extolling the good work performed by the charity sponsoring the event, a small group of tuxedo-clad musicians set up and began playing. After the first song, Joan leaned toward Monica and asked, "Would you care to dance?"

"I would."

Joan slid her chair back slightly and held Monica's as she stood. She placed her hand in Joan's and they made their way to the dance floor. Joan took Monica in her arms and stepped into the dance. After their first turn around the floor, Joan pressed more firmly into Monica's back, drawing her closer. She smiled affably at the woman in her arms and Monica rested her arm on Joan's shoulder and slid her fingers to her neckline, stroking the short hair along Joan's neck as they both relaxed into the strains of the music.

Joan held Monica close and felt the movement of her body against her own. The last time she had danced was at Fran's wedding. She closed her eyes and remembered the arousal that unexpectedly overwhelmed her as she held Evey in her arms. The strength of her feeling had made her run away from the temptation moving easily against her. Despite her beauty, Monica's presence had not brought forth the same response.

At the end of their third dance, Joan asked, "Would you mind if we left a little early?"

Monica looked at Joan with surprise. "Tired?"

Joan looked into Monica's eyes and smiled. "No," she answered.

Monica picked up her evening clutch and took Joan's hand as she gave their regrets to the others at their table. Joan pressed her hand on Monica's upper back and let it move down to encircle her waist as they left the ballroom.

"Are you all right?" Monica asked as they waited for Lou at the curb.

"I'm fine."

Joan waved Lou off as she started to get out and leaned down to open the back door of the limousine, taking Monica's hand to assist her inside. They held hands during the drive and Joan watched the lights of the city as Lou guided the vehicle back to Monica's apartment building. Joan knew she should say something, but her mind was a jumble of thoughts that she struggled to put in some logical order. She glanced at Monica who seemed content and leaned her head back against the car seat.

"Would you like to come up for a nightcap?" Monica asked, breaking the silence. She turned her head to look at Joan. "It's still early."

"I'd like that," Joan said. Was it finally time to end her long, self-enforced grieving period, she wondered. And was Monica the woman to end it with?

Lou winked at Joan as she helped Monica from the vehicle. Joan smiled and gave her driver an almost imperceptible nod.

"It was a lovely evening, Joan," Monica commented as they reached her floor and made their way down the corridor. She handed Joan her key and waited as she slid it into the lock.

"Yes, it was," Joan said as she held the door for Monica to enter. She placed the key on a small entry table and followed Monica into the main living area.

Monica dropped her clutch on a table near the couch and turned to face Joan. She brought her hand up and cupped it against Joan's cheek. She stepped closer, her eyes searching Joan's face, and brought their lips together, encountering no resistance. Joan's hands rose to Monica's hips as she moved closer, slowly deepening the kiss, increasing the contact she had wanted for so long. Joan stepped into her and buried her fingers in Monica's luscious auburn hair.

"I need you," Joan said as she took Monica into her arms and embraced her tightly.

Monica's hand drifted down Joan's back and lightly caressed her buttocks, pressing their hips more closely together.

"I've waited for you so long," Monica said as Joan kissed down the side of her face and along her neck.

Monica gasped as Joan touched the fullness of her breasts, teasing her nipples until they hardened and threatened to burst through the clothing that bound them. She moaned when Joan slowly lowered the zipper of her gown and allowed her hand to linger against Monica's hot skin.

"We...we should find someplace more comfortable," Monica breathed as her eyes met Joan's.

"Do you have someplace special in mind?" Joan whispered with a smile that would have made Casanova proud. She moved to stand behind Monica as her tongue tortured Monica's ear.

"Anyplace horizontal and soft," Monica answered, leaning her head to the side to allow Joan's lips greater access.

Joan laughed lightly, running her hand down Monica's back and kissing the exposed skin. One hand slid forward to gently pull Monica's body against her as the other caressed her full breast. "I need to feel you so much," Joan said. Monica was so beautiful, so sexy, and it had been so damn long.

Joan was becoming lost as desire flooded her mind when Monica took a deep, shuddering breath and stepped away. She turned to face Joan, brought her hand up, and let it come to a rest on Joan's chest. "I think I really need that nightcap," she said.

"Now?" Joan asked incredulously as she tried to calm the throb that had begun building inside her body.

"Better now than before it's too late," Monica answered.

"I thought this was what you wanted," Joan said, a confused look on her face.

"Oh, it is," Monica answered. "It most certainly is. I've dreamed about it for years."

"Then I don't understand."

Monica removed the crystal top from a decanter on the bar and poured two drinks. She carried one to Joan before moving to her balcony window. She took a long drink.

"Monica?"

She turned to face Joan and a sad smile crossed her lips. "Before you kissed me, which was wonderful by the way, you said you needed me."

"I do," Joan said.

"You didn't say you wanted me, or you loved me. You needed me. What do you need me for, Joan? To help you forget Martine. To relieve the sexual tension you've let build inside you for so long with no relief."

"You think I came here to use you? I would never--"

"I've practically thrown myself at you every chance I've gotten, but was rebuffed each time. Now suddenly you
need
my body? I don't think so." Monica's voice shook with repressed anger. "You can find what you
need
for a hundred bucks on several street corners around town."

"That was never my intention," Joan said.

"I saw the way you looked at that woman at Fran's wedding. You
wanted
her. I could see the desire in your eyes. Why isn't it there for me?"

Joan set her glass down. "I'm sorry, Monica. I should go."

Monica took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, too, baby. I would have loved you like no one ever has, including Martine."

Joan managed a smile. "No one can love me like that again." She began walking toward the apartment door.

"If you can't get over Martine, you'll never know real love again, Joan," Monica said to Joan's retreating back.

Chapter Twenty

EVEY WAVED AS the private jet emblazoned with the logo of Carmichael Industries taxied toward the small terminal. She fisted her hands together in front of her face as she waited impatiently for Brad and Fran to make their way down the steps of the plane and walk to where she was waiting.

She greeted them with a warm hug. "It's so good to see you again," she said. Standing at arm's length, she added, "I see you managed to spend some time in the sun."

"The beach was wonderful," Fran said as she clasped Brad's hand.

"It's a private beach," Brad said. He leaned closer and waggled his eyebrows at Evey. "Swimwear was not required and Fran's tan is very even...everywhere."

Fran pushed him playfully and blushed. "I don't think your mother needed to know that, Brad."

"She was a married woman," Brad said. "She knows the score, sweetie."

"Are you staying in the guest house?" Evey asked while Brad loaded their luggage in the Suburban.

"Yeah, I thought we might, if that's okay," Brad answered.

"I've already changed the sheets and put clean towels in the bathroom for you."

Brad leaned over and kissed Evey on the cheek. "You're the greatest, Mom," he said.

"I was young once myself, dear."

"Were you a screamer too?" Brad said.

Evey chuckled at the look of horror in Fran's eyes as she started toward him. He ran from her grasp, but laughter slowed him down. He finally wrapped his arms around her and picked her up, kissing her as he swung her around.

FRAN AND BRAD joined Evey, Tully, and Ralph for dinner that evening and once again endless chatter filled Evey's dining room. Fran described the compound on the Caribbean Island where they had honeymooned for nearly a month. Brad went on forever about the seafood available on the island and tried to describe his first attempt at opening a coconut, which hadn't been very successful. Then some five-year-old came along and opened it with one swipe of a machete. Brad shrugged, "Guess I'm not really an island boy, but I tried like hell. Maybe one of these days Joan will let us use the compound again and you and Tully can go along."

"Have you heard from your family, Fran?" Evey asked, trying not to let her curiosity show in her voice.

"Why would they?" Tully asked. "It would be kinda rude to interrupt a couple on their honeymoon, wouldn't it?"

"There aren't any telephones in the compound and not a cell tower in sight," Fran said, taking Brad's hand.

"What if you got sick or had an emergency?" Evey asked.

"It's a small island," Fran said. "There was a walkie-talkie if we needed help." Her eyes seemed to melt as she looked at Brad. She turned her attention back to her mother-in-law. "I did call Charmaine from the airport to let her know we were coming back."

"How is your sister?"

"Recuperating. It was an interesting conversation. We're planning to drive to Loganville in a day or two. Why don't you go with us, Evey? You can help me decide what furniture we'll need and what accessories might make it seem more like home. Brad has a few things here he would like to take, if it's all right with you"

"Tully and Ralph can watch the farm for a couple of days." Brad said. "If you're lucky it will still be here when we get back." Brad dodged a punch to his arm from his brother.

After dinner Brad left to help Tully with the horses while Fran helped Evey clean up and wash dishes.

"I can't believe you've never gotten a dishwasher," Fran says as she dried dishes while Evey washed.

"Never saw a need for one. I guess I just got used to hand washing them. Besides, in the winter the hot water feels good." She looked at Fran. "Comforting in a way and it gives me time to think."

"Think about what?"

"What needs to be done the next day or whatever comes into my head. It's very peaceful and I never had to worry about the kids interrupting me for fear of being enlisted to help," Evey said.

"Brad helps me with the dishes," Fran said.

"He's in love, dear. I suspect he'd do anything for you. He's a good man, as far as I know, and I'm glad he'll get the chance to do something he really wants. The farm has never been his first love."

"We're taking a tour of the campus the day after tomorrow in addition to taking a few measurements at the house. Brad has an appointment to see the head of the English Department and maybe see his office. Please come with us. We can spend the night and come back the next day."

"I'll speak to Ralph in the morning. There's nothing special scheduled and I can be back in time for the weekend riding lessons."

TWO DAYS LATER, before noon, Brad pulled into a parking space near the English Building on the campus of Central Virginia University. Students walked casually along the sidewalks leading to various buildings. Brad walked around the car and opened the doors for Fran and Evey and inhaled air deeply into his lungs.

"Ahhh," he said. "Can't you just smell the thirst for knowledge floating in the air."

Fran laughed and wrapped her arms around his waist. "All you need is a pipe and one of those tweed jackets with the leather patches on the elbows. You'll be a regular Mr. Chips before you know it. All the coeds will swoon, but you're mine."

"Forever." Brad smiled down at her, took Fran's hand, and began walking toward the entrance to the building with Evey following.

Evey liked the look of the campus. It had been established after World War II and the sidewalks were lined with trees. Even though summer would soon be over, the trees hadn't yet lost their foliage and cast cooling shade over those passing beneath them. Students smiled and nodded at the trio as they moved by them. Evey was sure Brad would be happy surrounded by young adults eager to learn.