The Muse (31 page)

How could she possibly pay attention to her stupid book at a time like this? She had less than two and a half hours to formulate and execute an escape plan, find Olive at the farmers’ market, and beg for her understanding and forgiveness. And then what? She had no clue. Sneak back here like nothing had ever happened? Or return with Olive so they could confront Erato together?

Glancing out the window, Kate groaned at the sight of the still-desolate sidewalk. She tried not to dwell on the twisting sensation in her stomach as she considered the possibility that Olive might not even
be
at the farmers’ market today, or if she was, that she might be unwilling to hear any apologies. Instead she fantasized about how it would feel to hold Olive again. If she’d known last weekend that their parting embrace might also be their final one, she would have tried harder to memorize every detail. As it was, she’d already lost her visceral hold on the intoxicating sweetness of Olive’s natural scent, the smoothness of her skin, and the absolute perfection of every line and curve of her miraculous body. Momentarily distracted from her mission of watchfulness, Kate closed her eyes to reminisce.

Their hushed, hurried morning sex had been altogether transcendent in a way that Kate hadn’t fully appreciated at the time. Now that she’d had a week to examine her feelings for Olive, and to feel the pain of hurting her and the fear of losing her forever, she realized that last weekend was the first time the physical and emotional aspects of intimacy had truly come together for her the way it always did for her characters. She’d had amazing sex in the past, even genuinely tender sex with one ex-girlfriend, but last weekend was the first time she’d
made love
and actually
felt
it, as corny as that sounded.

Kate opened her eyes to briefly check the window—nothing—and the time—only five minutes gone, not long enough to start sneaking around—then closed them again, defiantly plunging herself into a fantasy of being naked with Olive. Holding her. Caressing her breast, then sliding her hand down between those inviting thighs to find the wetness that always seemed to be waiting for her. Without really thinking about it, Kate traced a similar path down her own body, only catching herself when her fingertips brushed against her clit and she unleashed an involuntary whimper.

It wasn’t just that she hadn’t been fucked in a week. She hadn’t even given
herself
an orgasm. Frankly, she hadn’t been in the mood. Given the current situation, she didn’t understand how she could be now, but between Erato’s sex magic and her thoughts of Olive, it was apparently possible. And since she had a few more minutes to pass…

Only slightly sheepish about her ability to be aroused while rapidly running out of time to escape, Kate bit her lower lip and forced herself to come up with a fantasy that would get her off quickly. As a general rule, the dirtier and more deliciously depraved the scenario was, the faster she would come. Sad, but true. So she settled almost instinctively into a storyline that involved Olive reacting to her apology with a burst of furious passion. Rather than forgive her, she would lead Kate by the hand to somewhere out of sight but still close to the bustle of the farmers’ market, then “punish” her by pinning her against a tree and taking her roughly, all while whispering the most vile, depraved, shame-inducing words into her ear. A rush of wetness assured her that she was on the right track, so she added a spectator into the background—a man, for an extra dose of kink and depravity—who watched brazenly as Olive reduced her to a quivering mess. Then when she was done, she would drive Kate home so she could do it again, but this time she would force Erato to watch, and disciplinary spanking would be involved.

Both relieved and disappointed to already be at the brink, Kate cracked an eyelid to check the time and nearly fell over backward in shock. The only neighbor with whom she was on a first-name basis—Chad, the flirtatious, admittedly attractive firefighter—strolled by on the sidewalk not far from her window, headed for the parking lot. Thankfully his back was to her, but Kate snatched her hand from her pants anyway, feeling caught. Then her brain engaged. This was it. Her chance. It didn’t matter that she was still wearing the camisole and pajama pants she’d slept in—
stupid,
she realized now—nor that she was poised on the verge of orgasm. Her
only
objective was to get to Olive.

Even as she launched herself out of her chair and toward the office door, she realized that she’d managed yet another spectacular failure in the planning department. Last night, she’d tried to come up with a couple of reasons to explain why she needed to get to the farmers’ market quickly and quietly, without using her own truck that was clearly sitting in the parking lot, but she hadn’t settled on anything specific and definitely hadn’t rehearsed a story. There was an extremely high likelihood that she was about to thoroughly embarrass herself in front of a man with whom she’d only traded occasional pleasantries. Not exactly her preferred way to spend a Saturday, but…

“Shit.” The muttered curse slipped out when she tried to open the closed office door and found it stuck. Or locked. Or blocked.
Or something,
except she wasn’t sure what, since she knew of no way to actually secure the door from the outside. But somehow, naturally, Erato had managed to seal her in.
Why
was she even surprised?

Yet she was. Surprised, and wholly unprepared to improvise. Now she had no shoes—only her slippers—and no purse, which meant no money for the taxi she’d planned to ask Chad to call. Still, she had only about two hours before Olive would be lost to her for another week, so this was no time to worry about trivialities. Right now her most important problem was how to get out of the apartment. She could come up with only one possible answer. She dashed over to unlock the window, grunting as she wrenched the bottom half open with considerable effort.

Now only the window screen stood between her and the outside world. The stupid, flimsy, bafflingly impassable screen.

Kate stood and stared for what felt like five minutes, horrified that she wasn’t
exactly
sure how to pop the screen free from the window so she could climb out. Meanwhile, Chad’s broad figure had just disappeared from view, presumably into the parking lot. “Wait!” Kate shouted after him, then immediately cringed. He couldn’t hear her now, but Erato sure as hell might.

Even if she’d lost her chance to flag him down, she still needed to figure out how to remove the screen. A parade of one hundred people could pass by and do her no good at all if she couldn’t leave the room. Unless one of them could tell her how to take out the screen, that was. That brilliant thought triggered a flash of hope when she realized the answer to her problem was only a web search away. Then she remembered her lack of Internet access. The fate of this entire endeavor rested on her own ingenuity.

Fantastic.

“Okay.” She forced herself to calm down and focus. It didn’t take long to locate two metal tabs on the bottom of the screen, which she assumed must be important. She pushed them in, then yanked up on both tabs. A jolt of excitement ran through her when the screen nearly dislodged, signaling that she was on the right track. She jiggled the frame back and forth as she continued to push up on the tabs, until suddenly, thrillingly, the screen came free and tipped precariously forward. Afraid of making a commotion, she held her breath as she fought to keep her grip on the tilting screen, then eased the awkward object inside the room as quietly as possible with her shaking hands and racing heart.

Once she had the screen tucked safely between her desk and the wall, she considered how to climb out of the window without injuring herself. Her desk partially blocked the opening, which meant she had to either shove aside the heavy piece of wooden furniture or move her laptop so she could crawl over her work surface instead. All too aware of the seconds ticking by, she decided to take the faster, easier route. She moved her laptop onto her printer, then scrambled onto the desk to perch at the edge of the open window. Despite the need to hurry, she paused to survey the relatively short distance to the ground, experiencing a healthy dose of trepidation.

Luckily, her office was located on the first floor, so this type of exit was totally doable, although she
was
facing a nearly six-foot drop. But she had no good place to land. Just below her window lurked a scarily overgrown bush full of sharp branches—probably bugs and itchy stuff, too. Despite her fear, she was totally committed, particularly because she wasn’t certain she could get that screen back into place without a real struggle. If she was going to get into trouble, she might as well go all out. Besides, this was important. This was for
Olive.

She intended to lower herself from the window slippered feet first, holding the sill with both hands until she felt confident enough to let go. Maybe she could even swing herself out and avoid the bush altogether. But like so many of her plans, this one fell apart almost as soon as she attempted to put it into action.

As she shifted her weight to lower her second leg out over the edge, her slipper caught on something just long enough to disrupt her center of gravity. Her upper body pitched forward wildly, leaving her helpless to prevent her subsequent face-first tumble out of the window. Time slowed so she seemed to fall forever. The blue sky disappeared in a rush, replaced by the green of the fast-approaching bush that waited to swallow her up.

And then her forward momentum stopped, leaving her suspended upside-down.

Dangling precariously by one foot—which was still slippered, and still inexplicably stuck on her desk—Kate tried to figure out her next move. She
really
didn’t want to lose that slipper to the office, as she couldn’t exactly go to the farmers’ market in pajamas
and
only one slipper, because…
that
would be too much? She would have laughed if her chest wasn’t starting to hurt and if the flow of blood to her head wasn’t making her so dizzy. Unsure what she would do even if she reached it, Kate swung one hand up wildly, scrabbling to grip the windowsill effectively feet away and obscured behind her hip. She definitely wasn’t able to pull off such a dexterous move.

Then her stubborn slipper came loose, falling uselessly off her foot to send her crashing down into a very uncomfortable piece of foliage. Kate was grateful she’d covered her face with her arms and closed her eyes as she landed, so her only serious injury was to her already-flagging pride. As she lay there stunned and unable to move, legs sticking out haphazardly from the shrubbery, she sent a silent thank-you to the universe that her kitchen window was on the opposite side of the building. Hopefully Erato hadn’t heard her.

“Jesus, Kate, are you all right?”

The genuine concern in the deep, masculine voice—which came from somewhere above her—unleashed a wave of embarrassment that instantly heated her face. Great. Now she was bright red as well as disheveled. Too humiliated to move, she silently cataloged the visible damage: her camisole had ridden up to expose her stomach (and maybe more), and her hair was caught in the dense, tangled brush, no doubt completely disarrayed. One of her feet was bare. Worst of all, she could feel the wet spot she’d created on the crotch of her panties, shameful evidence of her decision to masturbate instead of staying alert. She couldn’t tell if her arousal had soaked through her pajama pants to create a visible stain, but wouldn’t that just be her luck?

Mortified didn’t even begin to describe her state of mind. Still, she managed to respond. “I’m fine!”

Strong hands grabbed her by the upper arms and lifted her out of the bush, causing her perspective to shift wildly once again, until finally Chad set her back on her feet and all she could see were his piercing blue eyes staring at her in confusion.

“What’s going on?” His gaze flicked to the office window behind her. A hero by trade, it was unsurprising that he’d be all business. “Is there a fire?”

“No!” Kate said a little too loudly. She lowered her voice and straightened her clothing. “Nothing like that.” She paused, not yet sure what alternative explanation to offer. “Thanks for the assist.”

“Of course.” Chad’s eyes narrowed as he took in her disordered state. “Not an intruder, I hope. Are you hurt?”

Only her ego. She managed to smile as she plucked a clump of leaves out of her hair. “Just embarrassed. I know I must look pretty crazy right now…”

He matched her smile, relief flashing across his face. “Crazy is no problem, as long as you’re okay.”

“I’m…” The impact had apparently wiped her mind clean, because she couldn’t come up with a plausible story to explain her inelegant tumble. As a professional tale-weaver, manufacturing one little white lie shouldn’t be much of a challenge. But as a half-naked woman who’d just fallen on her head in front of a man so effortlessly handsome she could almost feel herself slipping one notch in the other direction on the Kinsey scale, she was thoroughly tongue-tied. “I’m okay.”

He raised an eyebrow, obviously waiting for more.

Kate cleared her throat. When in doubt, she decided, stay as close to the truth as possible. She wouldn’t sound so stupid that way. At least she hoped so. “I’m sneaking out.”

Chad’s grin widened. “Oh,
really?
” He paused as a thought seemed to occur to him. “Wait, you’re not bailing on that gorgeous woman you’ve been seeing, are you?” Clearing his throat, he somewhat subtly swept his gaze over her chest—no doubt recalling Erato’s own assets with the fondness they inherently inspired—before quickly reestablishing eye contact. “With the dark hair…I think she said her name was Erato?”

Of
course
she’d gotten to Chad. Why hadn’t she anticipated that? Erato was a social butterfly who’d had a month of days to kill while she’d been busy writing. She’d have met at least a few of her neighbors. Worried that he’d agreed to do her muse’s bidding out of appreciation for her fantastic tits alone, Kate could only manage a weak smile. “That’s her.”

He offered her his fist. “Way to go, Kate, seriously. You’ve got game.”