The Right Time (53 page)

It was hard, very hard, to convey everything that had brought them together, yet kept them apart. Hennessy would have cut off a hand before she’d tell a single soul about Townsend’s struggle with addiction. That was only Townsend’s story to tell. But without that fact, it made little sense they’d had so many ups and downs in such a short time.

Thinking about it, Hennessy admitted to something she’d never fully explained to Townsend. “I think it’s pretty obvious I’ve never had sex.” They’d reached the limits of their neighborhood, and now stood near the peripherique, the highway that encircled Paris. Cars zoomed by, with small trucks and scooters buzzing like swarms of bees, whipping around each other as they vied for position.

Kate squeezed her hand and nodded. “Yeah. I thought that was probably true. But it’s never too late to start,” she said, her gaze gentling.

“Uhm…I’ve always been afraid to start,” she said. “Have you ever seen a big balloon that gets a little prick in it?”

“A prick?” Kate asked, giving Hennessy a wry smile. “Is that a good analogy?”

“Work with me,” Hennessy said, smirking. “Let’s walk back.” They turned, and as the roar of traffic grew quieter Hennessy could center herself to speak again. “There’s a lot of pressure in that balloon. As the helium leaves, it starts fluttering until it’s flopping around like crazy. That’s what I’ve been thinking. That once I start I’ll be out of control. Just flopping around like crazy, needing more.”

“That’s not how it works,” Kate said, the essence of confidence. She draped an arm around Hennessy’s shoulders as they turned onto a quiet, residential street. Flat-fronted, three story buildings surrounded them, each built during the Belle Epoque, each magnificent in its detailing. “Here’s what happens,” she said, in a conspiratorial tone. “At first, you can’t get enough. But that doesn’t last long. A week or two. Max.”

“Really? A couple of weeks?”

“Well, yeah. You can’t keep that up forever. So you settle down.”

“Everyone does?”

A slow, sly smile settled on her face. “Yes, Hennessy. Even you will not be able to maintain a rabid sexual frenzy for long. Then you’ll settle down and sex will just be a part of your life. The pressure will be released,” she promised.

“You really think so?” She so hoped that was true. “It’s just that with both of my parents being alcoholics, I’ve been thinking I might be addicted to sex—once I started having it.”

“Are you addicted to masturbation?” That perfectly shaped eyebrow rose again.

“Uhm…no. I do it,” she managed, wishing her cheeks didn’t blaze pink every time she admitted to the silliest thing. “But not every day or anything.”

“Then you won’t be addicted to having sex with a partner. I promise.” Her arm tightened its hold and she leaned her head against Hennessy’s. “I know one way to find out.”

Once again, Hennessy’s mouth turned stone dry. She cleared her throat. “But what about Townsend?”

“Townsend told you to test your wings. If she thinks that’s a good idea, so do I.”

“And it’s…okay? You don’t mind that I’m not over her?”

“I don’t mind,” Kate said, her eyes blinking slowly. “I understand that you might never be able to let her go, but I think you’re well worth the risk.”

They kept walking, both silent as the graceful, gently curved street lamps came on, bathing everything in a warm, golden light. Turning a corner, Hennessy looked up, seeing just the top of the Eiffel Tower, sparkling like a beacon. Every time she saw the darned thing, she got a lump in her throat. She’d always been charmed by it. Since she was a little girl and saw it on TV. But she’d never had even a dream of seeing it in person. People in her station didn’t travel to Europe. But here she was, with a beautiful woman holding her in a loose embrace. It was too much for her to process all at once.

When they stood in front of the apartment building the school used as a dorm, Hennessy stopped and took hold of both Kate’s hands. “I need to sleep on this.”

Kate’s full, pink lips slid into a grin. “Great idea.”

“Not that way,” Hennessy said, her laugh releasing some of the tension that made her feel like she might crack. “I need to think about it overnight. To make sure I’m clear-headed.”

“All right.” Kate wrapped her in a soothing embrace, her presence like a suit of armor—able to protect Hennessy from harm. “Call me when you wake up. We’ll have breakfast.”

“We didn’t get dinner. I might call at six a.m.”

“No problem. I’ll be waiting.” Then she kissed her, briefly, and they walked into their building together, with Hennessy peeling off to go to her second floor room, pausing in the doorway to listen for Kate’s light tread as it floated up the stairs. Not five seconds had passed, but she already missed her.

Surprisingly, Hennessy fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. When she woke at seven, she was fully rested and ready to go. After showering and dressing, her nerves begin to fray, until she was shaking as she dialed Kate’s number.

“Good morning,” Kate said, wide awake. “I was afraid I’d scared you so badly you’d be on a plane going back home by now.”

She could only let out a nervous laugh. “No, but I’m powerful nervous,” she admitted, sliding into her thickest accent.

“Let’s go have breakfast. Are you ready?”

“Meet you in front of the building.”

Tingling with anticipation, Hennessy shifted her weight from one foot to the other, waiting impatiently. Then the door opened and Kate strode out, looking so fresh-faced and pretty that Hennessy’s knees began to wobble. “You look nice,” she said, swallowing nervously. As usual, Kate had a scarf artfully wrapped around her neck, this one a springtime green and yellow print.

“You too,” Kate said, her appreciation evident in her avid gaze.

They went to their local boulangerie, which had a counter where they could perch on stools and watch passersby. Kate had her usual croissant, and Hennessy stuck with a demi-baguette, slathered with blackberry jam. Her senses were so exquisitely alive, it tasted like the blackberries had been picked two minutes ago, sweet and tart and bursting with flavor. Big crumbs flew from the crusty bread, getting stuck in her dark blue sweater. Instead of brushing them off, Hennessy just laughed, finding herself so filled with anticipation she didn’t have time for details.

When they exited into the warm, sunny morning, Kate slipped her arm around Hennessy’s and led her to the charming little park just a block from their apartment. They sat on a bench watching snowy white swans glide around the glassy lake, their bodies absolutely still as their black feet paddled furiously under the surface.

Finally, after watching in silence for a long time, Kate took Hennessy’s hand and began to trace the visible muscles and tendons. “I love your hands,” she said quietly. “I like hands that look like they’ve done some work.”

“They’ve done a fair bit,” she admitted. “But not as much as my daddy or my grandparents. If I started today and worked until I died, I’d never be able to best them.”

“You’re going to work with your brain,” Kate said. “You’ve got to use the gifts you’ve been given.” Her finger went to Hennessy’s lips and she began to trace along the sensitive skin.

Hennessy began to squirm, wanting to close her eyes to concentrate on the sensation, but forcing herself to look into Kate’s captivating gaze.

“Like these,” she continued, her voice low and stunningly sexy. “I hate to see lips this pretty just lying there.” She started to chuckle. “Yeah, they get a little use talking and eating, but they were made for a lot more.” She leaned closer as she spoke, until they were nose to nose.

“Kiss me,” Hennessy whispered as her eyes closed. She’d made up her mind. It was long past time to rip off the shackles she’d bound around her sexuality. And Kate was the perfect woman to celebrate her freedom with.

Well past noon, Hennessy lay on her side, tracing her fingers over Kate’s beautiful body. She was lean, very lean, with an athlete’s modest curves. But that lean, lithe body stuck a chord in Hennessy that still had her flummoxed.

She’d been sure, certain, that she could never express herself so freely with another woman. When Townsend held her heart, didn’t it only make sense that she also controlled her desire? But that hadn’t been the case. She’d been voracious, unable to resist touching, tasting, mouthing every bit of Kate’s gorgeous body. And she’d gleefully accepted Kate’s touch in return. Yes, images of Townsend had flitted through a few times, but there had been strangely few of them, and they didn’t interfere. The ache she’d felt the day before had eased, until she was able to fully open herself to Kate. One short day. Not even twenty-four hours and she’d let someone have what she’d firmly decided was Townsend’s. What in the hell did that mean? Did she love Townsend less than she’d thought? No. No. No. She did not. She’d gladly give her life for her. Would offer any sacrifice to make her happy. But Kate had entered her heart too. Had just snuck in there when Hennessy wasn’t looking. Like a thief in the night, she’d come in—and Hennessy couldn’t imagine shutting her out.

Sighing, she let her fingers linger over a nipple that hardened as her touch brushed over it. Kate shivered, then her lovely eyes opened and a smile lit up her features. “I’d like more,” she said, her voice a little rough from sleep. “More of you.”

The pulse between her legs pumped harder and Hennessy slipped a hand around Kate’s shoulder and pulled her close. “This is only going to last a week or two, huh?”

“Well, maybe a tiny bit longer,” she said, chuckling. “I might have downplayed it.”

“I truly hope you did,” Hennessy whispered, wrapping her arms around her until they were molded together. “Because this is one addiction I’d gladly choose.”

Townsend jogged down the
crowded aisles of the Delta terminal, cursing herself for cutting it so close. Hennessy’s grandmother had been a little confused when Townsend had called to ask when the baby girl was returning, but she’d searched around and found Hennessy’s last letter, with her itinerary fully laid out.

Even though they hadn’t corresponded, and had parted on very bad terms, Townsend had decided she was going to be the first American face Hennessy saw when she stepped off the plane. No matter what, she would never break her promise to always be there for Hennessy. That meant flying into New York from Boston that morning, so she’d be on the proper side of security. But her flight had been a little delayed and now she was sprinting for Gate 25.

She was running so fast that she almost didn’t see her, but out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Hennessy running in the opposite direction—away from baggage claim.

What the…? Townsend stomped on the brakes and whirled around. “Hennessy!” But the lanky brunette didn’t hear her cry. Townsend took a few steps in the proper direction, then stopped dead in her tracks. Hennessy wasn’t alone on her mad dash. She was holding the hand of an equally tall, similarly rangy blonde woman, both of them laughing wildly.

Townsend stood stock still for another moment, then took off. It was like racing to see a car crash, but she couldn’t help herself. Hennessy had a good twenty yards on her by this time, long legs eating up real estate much faster than Townsend’s could, but that didn’t deter her. By the time Hennessy and the other woman skidded on the smooth floor and turned right, she’d nearly lost sight of them.

Panting, Townsend reached the spot where she thought they’d turned. A quick perusal revealed nothing, and she was about to take off again when she calmed down and spent a moment looking at the line of passengers getting ready to board a flight to Chicago. There, in the crowd, she saw a flash of long, blonde hair, and before she could take another step, Hennessy wrapped her arms around the woman and began to kiss her.

Townsend stared, open-mouthed as Hennessy frantically placed kisses on every inch of pale, peach-toned skin her lips could reach. She seemed to be trying to fill herself up, to draw as much of the woman into her own body as she could. The other passengers in the line were staring openly at them, but it was clear neither woman was even vaguely aware of that fact. Only the frenetic merger of their lips and tongues mattered.