Текст книги "Heart Block"
Автор книги: Melissa Brayden
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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
“Sounds good. I’ll make them,” her mother called out as she walked into the kitchen.
“Not for me. Emory will be here any second. How do I look?” She’d changed from her jeans into black pants and a form-fitting red sweater for their date. It was the first chance they’d gotten to spend time on their own together since Grace’s release and she’d been counting the hours.
“Smokin’ hot, Sar.”
“That’s all I can ask for.” She grinned, switching gears. “Everything all right outside, Mama?”
“The kids are having a ball out there. Danny’s taught them his super slow roasting method and they’re transfixed.”
“How’s Grace?”
“Very energetic. I think her strength is back in full force.”
“Clearly,” Sarah said as Grace sped into the room and came to a stop in front of her.
“Can I have ice cream later?” Grace asked, wiggling her eyebrows.
“If you’re grandparents say it’s okay. But do me a favor and take it easy. Maybe don’t run everywhere you go. Let’s give that new pacemaker a chance to settle in.”
“The doctor said it’s fine to run now.”
Sarah sighed. “That he did.” She kissed the top of Grace’s head and watched her speed back into the yard to join her cousins. “She just seems so much lighter, carefree. It’s nice. The cardiologist says that with the new pacemaker, she shouldn’t see the inside of a hospital room until she delivers her first child.”
Her mother placed her hand on Sarah’s shoulder as she passed. “And now that Grace is back on track, it’s your turn.”
As if on cue, the doorbell rang and Sarah broke out into a smile. “I think that’s my date.”
*
The beach house was dark and quiet when they entered, but the moonlight reflecting off the water just yards away illuminated much of the room. Dinner with an adult had been just what the doctor ordered, and the fact that it was with Emory was delicious icing on the cake. Throughout dinner, Sarah had enjoyed the conversation, the laughs, the flirting, but she couldn’t help letting her mind drift to the promise of things to come. It didn’t help that Emory was looking both gorgeous and sophisticated in the pale blue dress she’d worn to dinner. Her favorite combination.
Now that they were alone, Sarah led the way in and wordlessly moved to the glass, staring out at the endless ocean. She wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head ever so slightly. “The water seems so calm tonight.”
Emory settled in behind her and gently kissed one shoulder. “It’s chilly out, but we could walk down to the beach, if you want.”
Sarah turned. “I don’t think so. I like it right here.” She studied Emory’s face, taking it in. “What are you feeling right now?”
Emory smiled. “You have no idea.”
“Trust me, I do.” She ran a finger gently across Emory’s bottom lip and moved in, unable to resist her another moment. She brushed her mouth with a featherlight kiss and ran her hands gently up Emory’s arms, the most tender of caresses. “You were there for me. When life couldn’t get any worse, when I was at my lowest and didn’t know where to turn, you were there and you got me through it somehow. I didn’t know what I needed, but you knew.”
“I didn’t do anything that you haven’t done for me. How is she today? Grace.”
“Feisty, just like always. Only she can stay feisty longer now, so we’re all in trouble.”
Emory laughed. “I can’t wait to see her.”
“Tomorrow. Tonight, I get you all to myself.”
Emory felt a shiver move through her body. She took Sarah’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Can I get you anything? Are you thirsty?”
Sarah shook her head slowly, her eyes never moving from Emory’s, communicating so much. Emory nodded wordlessly and they walked together up the stairs, hand in hand.
Once inside her bedroom, Emory moved to Sarah and pulled her close, her gaze unguarded, focused. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
Sarah reached out and brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “We have all night, you know.”
Emory kissed her gently. “Best sentence ever.”
The kiss that began delicately, transformed rather quickly to a mechanism of need. Sarah moved her hands to Emory’s waist and up. As they grazed the outsides of her breasts, Emory hissed in a breath and increased the pressure of the kiss until the meeting of lips and tongues vibrated through her entire body.
As Sarah pulled off her sweater, Emory stepped back. “I got it.” She moved behind Sarah, pulling the zipper of her slacks slowly downward. Emory assisted the lightweight fabric to the floor, bringing her to her knees and refocusing her attention. She closed her eyes and placed a solitary kiss on the small of Sarah’s back, then moved her attention ever so slowly upward to her shoulders, the back of her neck, and around. Sarah’s eyes were closed, her lips parted slightly at the sensation in a breathtaking display that caused Emory only a minor pause to take in the image before needing to taste that mouth once again.
As their lips met, it was Sarah who took control at this point, kissing Emory hungrily and backing her up until the back of her knees bumped the bed. She slid the straps of Emory’s dress down her shoulders, and it fell effortlessly to the floor. She stopped and looked at her, really looked at her, as her heart filled with something so familiar, yet so exciting that she felt a shiver move through her.
She pushed Emory softly onto her back and took her time pulling off the rest of her clothing piece by piece. She willed herself to move slowly, to let the moonlight shift over Emory’s skin as she revealed more of it. She descended to Emory’s breast first, kissing it, taking time to linger, savor the taste, the moment, the sensation that was so all consuming. She moved to the other breast then, licking, tracing lazy circles with her tongue. As Sarah raised her head, her eyes slid to Emory’s and the yearning she saw there sent a staggering shot of arousal through her. “Em,” she whispered reverently in response, kissing up her neck, her chin, her forehead before finally settling back on her lips for another sensuous go-round. She settled herself more firmly on top this time, “Em, look at me.” Emory threaded her fingers through Sarah’s hair, pulling her face back just enough to lock onto her eyes. “I love you. So desperately, I do.”
Emory’s stomach fluttered as she heard the words again in such a vulnerable moment. She nodded as she looked up at Sarah and wanted to respond, to tell her of the strength of her own feelings, but her voice was strangled in her throat, the emotion too powerful. She opened her mouth to try again and closed it in defeat.
“I already know.” Sarah smiled as she tucked a strand of Emory’s hair behind her ear. “I know how you feel, and it’s everything good in this world. I’m so lucky.”
Unable to resist any longer, Emory pulled Sarah’s face back down and caught her lips for another feverish kiss. She tried to turn them for better access to Sarah, to her body, but the once quiet, reserved woman she’d met those several months before was not willing to relinquish control just yet, and it was tantalizing. Instead, she pushed her thigh firmly between Emory’s legs and began to move against her. Emory gasped and felt as if an electric current of yearning had just slammed her system. She arched in response and pushed back forcefully, grabbing Sarah by the hips and pulling her closer still, needing, wanting more of her.
“Not so fast there,” Sarah mumbled between kisses, shaking her hair back, grasping Emory’s wrists, and holding them in place above her head. She picked up the rhythm gradually, and Emory could hardly maintain a coherent thought against the onslaught of overwhelming sensation. With her breathing ragged and her body erupting, she turned her head into the pillow and moaned quietly. Taking the cue, Sarah increased her speed, the pins that held her hair in place loosening and eventually falling out entirely. Her hair cascaded wildly down around her shoulders and the sight alone sent Emory toppling over the edge in a rush of sharp pleasure. Her body stilled and she called out as the orgasm ripped through her. In that moment, she reached up and touched Sarah’s face, holding fast to the connection she felt so deeply until all she saw was her. All she felt was her.
Sarah collapsed into Emory and they lay there, tangled, smiling together.
As her shallow breaths evened out once again, Emory gently stroked Sarah’s hair and her ability to think crept slowly back. “You’ve destroyed me. I’m feeling strangely speechless.”
Sarah raised her head and grinned. “I told you I’d missed you.”
But it was more than just that. Sarah exuded a quiet confidence that was new, surprising, and beyond sexy. Emory turned to face her more fully. “You’re a complex woman.”
Sarah looked skyward in jest. “You noticed.”
“I more than notice you.” She gently shifted Sarah onto her back and a new surge of heat surfaced in her as her eyes met generous curves and golden skin glistening in the moonlight. She ached at the sight of Sarah. She’d always thought her beautiful, but tonight she simply radiated. She descended first to Sarah’s lips and then set out to explore. Kissing, tasting, licking, Emory savored every luscious moment with Sarah’s body.
Sarah was on fire. She had been ever since she’d first touched Emory and her desire had only grown exponentially. She’d been turned on before, but this was a whole new level of yearning and she didn’t know how much longer she could hang on. Emory’s mouth was storming her system and sensation drenched her. As Emory kissed the inside of her thigh, she tunneled her hands into Emory’s hair in an attempt to guide her to what she so desperately needed. Sarah’s breath exploded in a loud gasp when Emory’s hand finally found her, eased through slickness, and began to move at an agonizingly slow pace. Moving her hips in response, Sarah arched upward in desperate search of purchase, of release. When Emory’s hand was replaced shortly thereafter with her mouth, Sarah let control snap. With her eyes closed, she felt the shock of pleasure overtake her, and the past six months flashed behind her eyes like a movie in her mind. As she rode out the glorious release, she remembered the moments, the journey that brought them here, and her heart and her body collided.
With her heart still thudding in her chest like a jackhammer, her body still singing, and Emory’s arms around her, Sarah knew she was home.
*
Seagulls and the sounds of the early tide woke Sarah the next morning, and it only took a moment for her to feel the happiness moving through her in big, warm waves. She sat up groggily in bed and looked around for Emory. The door to the terrace was open and the sheer curtains fluttered in the chilly breeze, a clue to her whereabouts. She crossed the room, shrugging into a T-shirt from the dresser as she went, when something caught her eye. To her right, there stood a canvas propped against the wall. She hadn’t noticed it the night before, but then again, she’d been wonderfully preoccupied. She moved closer, stunned at the beauty, the simplicity of the image, and took a moment to let her feelings settle. She studied the lines, her own features so familiar, yet so new. Was this really the way Emory saw her? She picked up the painting, captivated by the window it offered into the artist’s soul.
“It was the first thing I wanted to paint. I was a little out of practice, but in the end, it came out just the way I wanted.” Sarah turned to Emory, who stood in the doorway to the terrace. She wore a light blue silk robe and looked sated and beautiful after the night they’d shared.
Sarah shook her head slightly in wonder. “I don’t know quite what to say. It’s stunning.” And she meant it. She’d seen Emory’s work in subtle manifestations, but nothing like this. Nothing so complete. It was true. Emory was beyond gifted.
“Have you seen the subject? How could it not be?”
Sarah met her eyes in all seriousness. “That’s not what I meant. How did you do it, capture me this way?”
“Well, I happen to love your face, your hands.” Emory pressed a delicate kiss into her palm. “The way you move. I had dozens of images of you sliding through my head, moments of you attached to my heart, so I just picked one.”
Sarah looked back at the painting, for the first time noticing the glow on her cheek. “This is from our first night together, isn’t it? In front of the fire.”
Emory nodded. “That was the night my life changed.”
Sarah nodded and caressed her cheek. “Mine too.”
Emory looked down at the painting “I’d say you could have it, but I don’t think I’m willing to let it go.”
“That’s okay. I was kind of hoping for joint custody.” And giving in to the temptation that had been with her since she awoke, she slid her fingers into Emory’s sun-streaked hair and pulled her in for a kiss that left them both breathless and stumbling back to the bed.
Epilogue
Six months later
The gallery was still bustling as they approached the last hour of the showing. Intense-looking people dressed to the nines perused the various pieces that lined the walls as waiters moved about the room with trays of champagne and canapés.
Emory felt the butterflies in her stomach enter into a last dance and sighed in relief that she’d almost made it through. It was one thing to head up a multimillion dollar company, but quite another to have your art, your innermost expression, on display for the world to see and critique at will. She’d be lying, however, if she said it wasn’t exciting at the same time. Because it really, really was. As she sipped her champagne in the corner of the room, she heard a patron’s voice behind her.
“I can’t stop looking at it,” the male voice said. “On each reexamination, I see something I hadn’t noticed before, but by far, the most intriguing aspect of the piece is the way the artist juxtaposes nature against the urban landscape. I mean, look at that and tell me it’s not thought provoking.”
“Find the gallery owner,” his female companion said. “Let’s see what it’s listed at.”
Emory hadn’t been able to contain the small smile that grew steadily on her lips as the evening went on. She knew the opening’s success would hinge on how many of the pieces actually sold, but for her, it was enough to hear that others appreciated her work, saw value in something she’d created. It came with a certain kind of gratification unlike anything else she’d experienced. The rush was palpable, indescribable, and immediate. She realized very quickly that she could get used to this.
“There’s the famous artist now!” Emory smiled in recognition of the familiar voice and turned just in time to feel the arms of Yolanda Matamoros envelop her in an all-consuming embrace. Yolanda, Emory had come to discover in recent months, gave the best hugs in the history of the world.
She felt herself light up. “I’m so happy you both came. You didn’t have to, you know.”
“Are you kidding? And miss all this? Never. It’s an important night for you.”
Roberto placed a hand on her arm. “Your work is beautiful, Emory.”
Yolanda thrust a camera at him. “Take our picture, Berto. I’ll say I knew her when.” Emory wrapped an arm around Yolanda and smiled warmly into the lens.
“We’ll let you get back to your show,” Roberto said. “We’re off to see the rest of the paintings. See you Sunday for dinner?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” And she wouldn’t. She smiled after the people who had become her surrogate parents, still surprised at how much they’d come to mean to her in such a short time. She made her way into the next room, where most of the work was displayed. The lights were dim, and mellow music emanated from the classical guitarist in the corner. She hadn’t made it but ten feet into the room before Grace was at her side like a rocket. “Emory, only two paintings are left.”
She smoothed the back of Grace’s hair and looked down at her. “That can’t be right. Who told you that?”
“The gallery owner, Melody. She said I’m her assistant. See? Here’s the inventory.”
She thrust the clipboard upward for Emory to see. Emory scanned the page in mystification. “I didn’t think too many would actually sell,” she mumbled to herself as Grace scampered away.
“I did,” her favorite voice in all of history said in her ear. Emory turned around to Sarah’s sparkling eyes. “You’re a hit. It’s confirmed. I just finished talking to a reporter from CityBeat. She’s in love with your work and said to look for her review on Monday. How does that sit?”
Emory shook her head. Something about being in Sarah’s presence made her incredibly honest with her feelings and emotion was now bubbling to the surface in rapid waves. “It all feels so surreal, in a good way, but still surreal.” This was the kind of night she had imagined growing up when she was young and the world seemed to have endless possibilities. She’d long ago stuffed those idealistic daydreams aside and now, to actually have one come true struck a chord. “I don’t know what to say, other than, thank you.”
Sarah quirked an eyebrow. “For what?”
Emory took Sarah’s hand and pulled her into the corner of the room, outside the earshot of the meandering guests. “For this. If I’d never met you, Sarah, I’d be sitting behind a desk at the office up to my elbows in paperwork, alone and unaware of how much of life I was actually missing out on.” Her voice softened. “So, yes, thank you for coming into my life.”
Sarah didn’t answer. Instead, she kissed her simply. “I love you, you know that?”
Emory smiled. “I do. It’s awesome.”
“Don’t let me interrupt,” Melody said, approaching. “But I wanted to break it to you myself.” She looked somber and Emory didn’t like that.
“Okay. What’s up? Is there a problem?”
“Unfortunately. I’m afraid you’re going to have to part with every last piece we’ve displayed at this little showing of yours.” Melody broke into a triumphant grin.
“Wait. So that means…”
“Sold out. Entirely. And we’re still getting inquiries. How fast can you paint exactly?”
Emory laughed out loud. “I don’t believe it.”
“It’s pretty impressive, actually. I don’t recall another artist I’ve worked with doing this well their first time out.”
Sarah squeezed her hand. “Of course not.”
Melody checked her watch. “We should be wrapping up soon. Shall we get drinks and discuss the future?”
“Ah, can’t tonight.” She glanced at Sarah. “We kind of have plans.”
Sarah nudged her shoulder. “It’s fine. Go.”
“No way. I’ve been looking forward to this. Melody, can we do it Tuesday?”
“Tuesday’s great, actually. I’ll call you. And congratulations, Emory, you deserve it.”
Emory watched her walk away and turned back expectantly to Sarah. “How quick can you wrangle the kiddo and meet me in the car?”
“Time me, superstar.”
*
An hour and a half later, the kitchen table at the beach house was covered with blueberry French toast, hash brown potatoes, maple bacon, and Emory’s contribution, “Hobo Scramble,” which consisted of eggs, cream cheese, scallions, and ham. Sarah had to admit, it all tasted amazing.
Grace helped herself to a second spoonful of hash browns. “I think I adore breakfast for dinner.”
“Not more than me,” Emory echoed. She sliced excitedly into her French toast.
Sarah watched them, amused by their matching kid-like expressions. Over the past few months, she’d watched Emory slowly relax into life. She went into the office a couple of days a week to consult on any pressing issues, but for the most part spent her time in the spare room they’d converted into her art studio or painted on the beach. Her eyes shone brighter and she seemed so carefree, unencumbered. It was wonderful to see her so full of life.
“Mom, can I give Walter a piece of bacon?”
Sarah glanced over at Walter, who sat obediently back from the table watching each and every move they made as if his life depended on it. “Sure. Make his day.” Walter accepted the offered piece of bacon with lightning speed and then licked his lips in gratitude. He collapsed comfortably back into his spot on the floor and rested his chin atop his toy raccoon, his best friend in the world next to Grace, whom he followed throughout the house religiously.
“That’s a good buddy boy, Walter,” Emory said affectionately. “You’re the cutest of the cute, you know that?”
His tail wagged in seeming appreciation.
When dinner was done, Sarah and Grace worked together to clear the table, as Emory started the dishes. “Go get your pajamas on, monster, if you want to watch the movie. I’ll finish up.” Grace scampered up the stairs to her room and Sarah brought the last dish to the sink. In doing so, she couldn’t help but let her eyes drift down Emory’s body in appreciation of her in those yoga pants. Her mouth went dry, as it always did where Emory was concerned.
“Mom, it’s your turn to pick the movie!” Grace’s voice from upstairs brought her back from where she’d drifted, but not before Emory caught the stare.
Emory was smiling as she shook her head. “You cannot look at me like that. Not when our daughter will be back down here any second to watch a two-hour movie.”
Sarah feigned complete mystification. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m trying to clear the table. Could you focus, please, on the dishes?”
Emory moved in and stole a playful kiss. “You’re a bad liar. I will deal with you later.”
Sarah grinned. “Then my plan has worked.” Hearing Grace in the living room, she headed that way.
“Did you pick a movie, Mom?”
“I’m in the mood for a classic. How about To Kill a Mockingbird?”
“Oh, that gets my vote.” Emory snuggled in next to Grace on the comfy couch, a Matamoros contribution to the beach house when they’d moved in. “You’ll like it too, kiddo. It’s right up your alley.”
“Okay, cool.” Walter wedged himself tightly on the other side of Grace, placing his head in her lap as Sarah set up the DVD. She then settled in next to Emory and took her hand just as the opening credits appeared on the screen. Sarah looked across at Grace and exchanged a private smile, her mind drifting to how far they’d come in just a year’s time. So much had changed. So much had fallen into place.
But now they were home.
Her family was complete.
And she was so very lucky.
About the Author
Melissa Brayden currently works as a theater director at the performing arts center of one of the largest high schools in the state of Texas, a job she completely enjoys. Recently, she’s fallen down the rabbit hole and rediscovered her love for creative writing. Her first novel, Waiting in the Wings, was honored with two 2012 Goldie Awards for Best Debut Author and Best Traditional Contemporary Romance.
Melissa is married and working really hard at remembering to do the dishes. For personal enjoyment, she spends time with her Jack Russell terriers and checks out the NYC theater scene several times a year. She considers herself a reluctant patron of the treadmill, but enjoys hitting a tennis ball around in nice weather. Coffee is her very best friend. www.melissabrayden.com
What Reviewers Say About Melissa Brayden’s Work
“This was an engaging book with believable characters and story development. It’s always a pleasure to read a book set in a world like theater/film that gets it right…a thoroughly enjoyable read.”—Lez Books
“This is Brayden’s first novel, but we wouldn’t notice if she hadn’t told us. The book is well put together and more complex than most authors’ second or third books. The characters have chemistry; you want them to get together in the end. The book is light, frothy, and fun to read. And the sex is hot without being too explicit—not an easy trick to pull off.”—Liberty Press
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