September Canvas (16 page)

“Really?” The teasing tone quickly changed to a breathless one. “How decisive. And greedy.”

“You bet.” Deanna buried her face in Faythe’s hair and inhaled deeply. “You’re irresistible, you know.”

“No. That’s just it. I don’t know. It’s been too long. Last time I was on a date, a friend at the network set me up. Major disaster.”

“She was boring? Mediocre? Ugly as sin?”

“Worse. I would have been able to work around a boring, mediocre, ugly woman.”

“So what was the problem?” Deanna kissed Faythe’s temple.

“She was a he.”

“A cross-dresser? Transgender?”

“I could have had a great evening with a cross-dresser or a transgendered individual,” Faythe said with exaggerated patience.

“Then
what
?”

“He was a man. A super-duper hunk. A God’s-gift-to-woman, if you like the type.”

Deanna straightened and looked at Faythe. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. He sat there, long hair and all, a Fabio look-alike, and I think he must’ve attended a 101 course in how to entice women. He pulled no punches when it came to charming me. When I finally got a word in, it took me half an hour to make him listen. I don’t know if it’s happened to you, but when you warn some guys off with the ‘Sorry, but I’m a lesbian’ explanation, they get this glow and become all dewy-eyed. I know they’re picturing themselves with two—or more—women in a scenario where they convince the ‘lesbians,’” Faythe enunciated the word slowly and carefully, “that they’re mistaken about their sexuality. They only need this stud of a man to show them what they’re missing.”

Deanna had begun to giggle at Faythe’s antics, and now she was howling. “Oh, yes, I’ve met one or two of those. So this Fabio wannabe tried to charm you into bed?”

“Well, he actually tried to charm me into picking up the tab, since he’d ‘forgotten’ his wallet.” Faythe made vigorous air quotation marks.

“I wanted to bolt so badly, I was ready to write him a blank check. I was also ready to shoot my colleague, who was probably dying to hear all the sordid details.” Faythe pushed her hair back and leaned her head on Deanna’s shoulder. “I’m not too heavy for you, am I?”

“Huh? No, no. You’re fine.” Deanna kissed Faythe again. “You’re very fine.”

Faythe returned her kiss. Deanna paced herself and this time it wasn’t hard at all, even if she was still aroused. She explored every part of Faythe’s mouth. Finally Faythe’s moans became whimpers, thoroughly sexy sounds that Deanna was glad to capture with her mouth. Suddenly she realized her left hand had slipped under Faythe’s shirt and was drawing circles up toward her breasts.
God, I want to
touch her so badly.

“Touch me. I need it so badly.”

Deanna froze momentarily at Faythe’s echoing words. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Faythe arched her back, as if trying to reach Deanna’s hand.

No more stalling.
Deanna slid her hand up and cupped a lace-clad breast. “Oh.”

“Oh.” Faythe shivered and placed her own hand on top of Deanna’s, outside the shirt.

Faythe’s stone-hard nipple prodded Deanna’s hand. She flicked her thumb over it, twice, and heard more moans. “Like this?” Deanna whispered.

“Yes.” Faythe was barely audible. “Like that.”

“Like this?” Deanna took the whole breast in her hand, weighing it carefully before she caressed it.

“Oh, yes.” Faythe was trembling now, and she grasped for Deanna. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Good.”

“Kiss me?”

Deanna was more than happy to do so. She took Faythe’s sweet-tasting lips, brushing her own across them. Faythe surprised her by entering her mouth first, her hot tongue insistent. A dark, molten place inside Deanna, a place she barely remembered being there, came to life. It connected with her limbs and sent moisture to her sex and dried out her mouth. Nobody had ever kissed her like this, so hotly and with such abandon. Deanna was aroused and afraid. This wasn’t about a one-night stand with an attractive, pleasurable woman; this was too much, too soon. So many emotions were surfacing. She panicked and finally withdrew, gasping for air. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“What for?” Faythe took one of Deanna’s hands and pressed it between her breasts.

Her heart thundered beneath it, convincing Deanna that things were happening too quickly. If she were less scarred or more hardened, she would have taken Faythe immediately. But as things were, she couldn’t. “For rushing this. For letting my body rule my head.”

“So, when you think about it, you don’t want this.”

“Wrong. When I think about it, I want it more than ever. I’m afraid of screwing up. And believe it or not, I’m trying not to screw this up.” A shadow passed over Faythe’s face. “What do you mean, screw up? We were just cuddling, Deanna.” She gestured casually with her free hand.

“Oh.” Deanna considered Faythe’s choice of words. “I see. I suppose I overthought it again. It seemed…felt, more to me.” Faythe lifted Deanna’s hand to her lips and kissed each knuckle softly. “Deanna, I’ve told you I don’t think in those terms. Not at all. And besides, I did tell you I’m not relationship material. Why can’t we just enjoy each other? We can be really good together, I can feel it. I mean it. I’d love to be with you, Deanna. You’re amazing, beautiful, and sexy. There can’t possibly be anything wrong with that. We’re both adults, after all,” Faythe said encouragingly.

Deanna’s heart slammed to a halt, skipping beats until she felt entirely numb. Why was she so surprised that Faythe thought like this?

Faythe was right. She’d told Deanna that she didn’t intend to settle with anyone. Ever.
How could I be so stupid that I forgot that?
It was ironic that she, who shied away from contact and people, was the needy one.

Deanna forced a polite smile and carefully freed her hand. “Of course we are. And you know, we should be careful with your foot.” Faythe gazed at her intently. “Are you okay? You’re not upset with me, are you?”

“No, no, no,” Deanna said quickly. “I’m fine. It’s good that you’re the voice of reason. I mean, it just goes to show the old adage, never assume.”

“Deanna—”

“I’m leaving now. I’ll just grab the tiger by the tail and call Savannah. Better get this over with.”

“And you can meet here, if you like.” Faythe tried to get up from the couch and fell down with a moan. “Damn it. Stupid foot.”

Forgetting some of her confusion and hurt, Deanna knelt next to Faythe and felt along the edges of the bandage. “This feels too tight. Your toes are pale and feel cold.”

“My toes are always pale. Not usually cold, though.”

“Let me unwrap it just a bit.” When Faythe nodded, Deanna proceeded to do so. “Ah, as I thought. Feel the circulation start up again?”

“Yeah,” Faythe answered. “Now,
that
hurts.”

“You can’t stay here by yourself,” Deanna said, shaking her head.

“Do you have anyone you can call to come stay with you? Your mom or dad?”

“No. I don’t want them here.” Faythe’s face darkened. “Especially not my parents.”

Faythe obviously had a long way to go before she was ready to confront her parents about what their recent behavior.
And who am I to
judge that sort of thing? I haven’t spoken to Mom more than twice in
nine years.

“Can’t you stay here with me? There are plenty of bedrooms, all with their own bathroom. You wouldn’t have to spend more time with me than necessary.” Faythe didn’t sound pleading, but she looked dark and brooding. “Unless you’re too upset with me about us making out.”

“I’m not upset.”

“I think you are.”

“I’m just feeling a little bit silly that I forgot about your attitude to relationships and also for making such a big deal about it. We’re adults, like you say. It shouldn’t matter. I ought to be able to enjoy being with a beautiful, talented, intelligent woman like you and be happy with what’s offered.” Deanna wanted to explain, but she could see from Faythe’s expression that she was missing her mark.

“You’ve just confirmed what I suspected all along. Nobody’s ever had the guts to tell me to my face, but I’m grateful you did. Honestly.”

“What are you talking about?”
What did I just say?

“I’m not sensitive enough, and frankly, I’m probably too shallow anyway, to be a suitable girlfriend or partner. I haven’t had any role models to speak of, which is an understatement, and I’ve worked and played the last ten years paying attention only to my own interests and goals. I’ve dated, but rarely the same woman more than a few weeks. After the inevitable breakup, which is an odd expression since we weren’t exclusive, I’ve felt liberated and free. Happy to get back to my routines and my job.”

“And now you want me to stay here with you.”

“Yes.” Faythe patted Deanna’s hand carefully. “Please? I promise not to jump your bones.”

Deanna would have walked through fire and chopped through ice to stay with Faythe when she said “please” with such feeling. “All right. I’ll go back to my cabin and get some stuff. Clothes and my art supplies.”

“Oh, damn, I didn’t think about your work. I’m a selfish bitch.” Faythe looked so upset at this minor oversight that Deanna started to laugh. “You’re not a bitch. I’ll be able to work just fine here. The view from the panoramic window is breathtaking. The light in here is good.”

“So you’ll stay a few days?”

Deanna knew she was setting herself up for trouble, but she couldn’t have answered any differently. Leaning forward, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind Faythe’s ear. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

Faythe fumbled for her cell phone, but it landed on the hardwood floor in her bedroom. She glanced at the alarm clock, saw that it was ten a.m., and nearly bolted out of bed before she remembered her injured ankle. Carefully she leaned over the side of the bed to try and reach the ringing phone, but couldn’t. The bed was too high, and she was afraid she’d fall off if she stretched any farther.

“What’s the noise about?” Deanna asked, coming through the door and making Faythe forget the phone. “Ah, let me get that for you.” Deanna picked it up and handed it to Faythe, then mimed she was going back to the kitchen. Faythe nodded and flipped the cell phone open.

“Hello?”

“Darling,” Cornelia Hamilton nearly shouted. “Did Suzy stop by? What a delightful woman. I never knew how understanding she could be. Such a successful agent and all.”

Faythe was in no mood to deal with her mother. “Yeah, she did stop by the other day, Mom. Can’t talk right now. In the middle of work.”

“Working? On a Saturday morning? Oh, you signed the contract after all.” Cornelia sounded genuinely happy. “I was so worried that your new plans would fester and screw with your mind. Besides, I wanted you to know that Chester and I have other plans for the day we planned to visit you.”

Faythe was ready to throw the phone across the room.
First she
nags and gives me the guilt trip from hell because she wants to come
here no matter what—and now I’m being stood up.
It would’ve been hilarious if Faythe hadn’t been in such agony with her foot. She wasn’t in the mood to argue with her mother or get into a long discussion.

“I’ve got work to do, Mom. Say hello to Chester for me. Bye.” She shut the cell with a click that resonated between the walls. She wished Deanna hadn’t left, but couldn’t really fault her politeness while she was on the phone.

Grabbing her crutches, Faythe visited the bathroom, then headed for the kitchen where Deanna was expertly flipping pancakes.

“Smells wonderful.” Faythe sank down on one of the chairs.

“Blueberry pancakes again?” Deanna had served them two mornings ago, and Faythe’s mouth watered at the thought.

“Yes. You said you liked them.”

“That’s an understatement. Who would’ve guessed you’d be such a terrific cook?”

“Who indeed?” She flipped a pancake expertly. “Ready for your first stack?”

“First? I can’t exercise yet, remember? At this rate, I won’t be able to fit into any of my clothes.”

“You’re fine.” Deanna put a plate with six pancakes in front of her.

She made them thicker than their diner counterparts; blueberry syrup ran down the sides of the stack, and a big glob of whipped cream sat on top.

Deanna fixed an identical plate for herself and sat down across the table from Faythe. They ate in silence, until halfway through the meal, when Deanna jumped up to bring coffee. Faythe inhaled the fragrant aroma and sipped it carefully. “This is life restoration at its best,” she said. “I can’t tell you how many interviews, preparations, and research I’ve carried out with a mug of coffee in my hand. Even coffee from the workplace’s stinky old coffee machine is better than no coffee at all.”

“I agree. My first children’s book, which I was so incredibly apprehensive of illustrating, was christened in coffee. As it turns out, it became a great success, both for the story and the illustrations.”

“How come you were particularly nervous about illustrating for kids?”Deanna looked surprised. “Do you remember your childhood books? The ones with pictures in them?”

“Sure I do. I still know several of them by heart.”

“Exactly. Our children’s books are so important to us, and we are influenced by them when it comes to our reading as adults. Kids will take these books to their hearts, cherish them, and learn from them. We shape each new generation with the books we provide them.” Deanna chased a runaway blueberry around her plate. “So I lived on coffee and croissants and worked around the clock. I discarded at least a hundred drafts before I came up with the right look for Bunny Buttercup.”

“I have a confession.” Faythe wasn’t sure how to tell Deanna that she’d researched her online. Deanna had told her about being wary of reporters, and looking someone up was nothing short of prying. “I found your Web site, well, your publisher’s Web site, and saw some of your work on the children’s books. I love the Bunny Buttercup illustrations. I also think it’s great it hasn’t been overly commercialized.” 

Deanna regarded her evenly over a forkful of pancakes. “I knew you would research me online.”