Richfield & Rivers Mystery Series 3 - Venus Besieged (30 page)

"I
told him I had gotten word from a friend of mine that Luther Drake was Cy's
son, the product of his having raped an Indian woman thirty-five years ago, and
that restitution for that crime looked like the mall was going somewhere
else."

I
smiled. "Surprised Blackstone took your word for it."

"Men
have always taken my word for it," Ramona said slyly. I had no doubt her
elegant charm had made men from every walk of life do her bidding, and now
Barrett Silvers was in line. "Anyway, Cy's a dyed-in-the-wool politician
so he knows when to retreat and regroup." Ramona leaned on Barrett, who
held her as if she were the most delicate, priceless prize on the planet.

"I
can't believe how many Native American women showed up. My God, where did they
all come from?" I asked.

"Extras—the
studio will be getting the bill," Barrett warned Ramona, who merely
laughed. And I realized that Barrett, knowing Ramona was going to do a little
soft blackmail on Cy, had turned the entire event into a production worthy of
television cameras and had actually hired extras, which made me laugh too.

Barrett
walked past me, never more than a foot away from Ramona, and whispered,
"Got your new story idea—love it. I'll call Jacowitz. It's a much better
twist than the alien, and moviegoers adore Hollywood. Two strong women
executives...Sigourney, maybe."

Callie
giggled when Barrett was out of earshot. "I knew she'd love it. You can
call it
Narcissus."

"Looks
like we could be shooting in New York after all." I high-fived Callie when
Barrett wasn't looking.

The
morning's activities drawing to a close, I offered to buy Callie lunch, telling
her we'd stop at a deli and get a small basket of sandwiches and drinks. We
hopped into the Jeep with Elmo in tow and collected our repast from a local
gourmet shop, then headed up to the ceremonial site for one last look over the
gorgeous land that was Sedona.

"Do
Native Americans believe in astrology?" I asked as we drove.

Callie
said there were books on Native American astrology. "By their chart, I'm
born a woodpecker," she said, grinning at me, and I bit my lip to avoid
making jokes about her occasional hammering on me. "Do you know what you
are?" When I looked blank she said, "The wolf."

"You're
kidding!"

"Nope,
and it might interest you to know that Woodpecker and Wolf together have
perfect harmony of heart and soul."

"What
about Woodpecker, Wolf, and Hound?"

"Magical,"
Callie said as I parked the car, patted Elmo, and whispered for him to keep an
eye out for intruders. Then I took the blanket and a picnic basket and walked
up the last fifty yards, invigorated by all that had been accomplished.

Callie
stood on the edge of the plateau, her arm around me, and we let the soft breeze
blow over and through and around us.

"I
have something for you." I squeezed her waist.

"And
would that be—wine or cheese?"

Reaching
in my pocket I pulled out a small box and flipped it open. Inside were the
matching Indian wedding rings we had tried on together in the store. Callie looked
down at the rings and then up at me. I could tell the rings were unexpected.

"When
did you buy these?"

"When
you weren't looking."

"What
does this mean?" she asked, smiling.

"Whatever
you want it to mean," I said, lightly mocking the way she always talked to
me.

"Are
you proposing?"

"I'm
proposing we wear matching wedding bands."

"Even
though we don't live together yet."

"Our
hearts live inside one another, our souls were mated eons ago, and our minds
are one." I took the smaller ring and slid it onto the fourth finger of
her left hand, then handed her the larger ring, extending my hand. She slipped
the ring on my finger, and the sensation was one of strength and protection and
love. We placed our hands side by side like two wings of a small bird, and the
sunlight glinted off the gold and reflected into our eyes and our hearts.

Callie
tilted her head up and kissed me, her arms tightening around my neck, and I
grew weak: wet from love, dry from the winds, enveloped in desire. I pulled her
down on the blanket I'd arranged, anchored with stones from the ceremonial
circle.
What could be more fitting than my lover’s bed being anchored by
ceremonial rocks?

"You
can't make love to me here on the ground," she whispered.

"It's
been done for centuries," I said, lying on my side facing her.

"And
what if someone comes up here?"

"Elmo's
positioned to watch the trail, and you know he always gives a fifteen-minute
warning for approaching visitors. So there's no getting out of this. What
better honeymoon than being naked on a Sedona ceremonial plateau high above the
gorgeous Native American land? Love is energy, beautiful energy. You either
believe it or you don't, so let's see some energy," I teased.

And
with that, Callie Rivers stood up and yanked her clothes off, in seconds
standing naked in the wind. I had never seen her look so magnificent, majestic,
powerful, as if carved from the great rocks that formed this valley, and I
stared at her in awe as the sun streaked across her body and she smiled down at
me. "Take off your clothes," she commanded with a twinkle in her eye,
and her mere presence shot electrical charges through me.

I
leapt to my feet and stripped faster than a firefighter. "Marry me!"
I yelled into the wind, unable to contain myself.

She
knelt on the blanket and I knelt beside her. "I have. I will. I do."

Amid
the mysticism of this sacred place, we made love in a beautifully primal way,
inside one another, coupling and uncoupling like the great red stones that come
together and pull apart over centuries. And in the heat of passion, our bodies
wet and souls throbbing, I caught sight of something blowing over the edge of
the mesa, a two-legged kite sailing away.

"My
pants," I panted.

"You
won't be wearing them now, darling," she said and kissed me deeper, and
for a moment I wondered if she meant that literally— simply because they'd
blown away—or figuratively, because she would be wearing the pants in this
relationship.

But
I quickly wiped those earthly thoughts away, because love was all that mattered
now—Callie Rivers belonged to me.

About
the Authors

Andrews
& Austin
operate several large
entertainment business ventures but still find time for one of their biggest
passions—writing. Their strong lesbian characters, witty storytelling, and
distinctive style derive from years of writing for television and film. Their
goal is to help lesbian fiction be appreciated and embraced by everyone. They
were 2007 Golden Crown Literary Award winners for debut author with their first
work,
Combust the Sun.