Fugitives of Love Page 8

  “Tell me what you need.”

  Sinclair took a deep breath. “Nothing, really. Except to be with you.”

  Brenna smiled broadly. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m taking the day off tomorrow so I’m all yours.”

  “That’s good.”

  Then Brenna took her hand and led her down a short hall to her bedroom, where she placed Sinclair’s suitcase on a wooden chest at the foot of the bed. “The bed’s all yours. I’m sleeping on the couch so just let me know if you need any—”

  Sinclair put her arms around Brenna and tilted her head toward the bed. “We can both stay here.”

  “Are you sure?” Brenna’s expression was serious but so considerate it warmed Sinclair.

  Sinclair nodded. It would be okay.

  Brenna excused herself to the kitchen while Sinclair took her toiletry bag to the bathroom that sat off the bedroom.

  She was amazed at how well the day had gone. Though much larger than she had imagined it would be, New York was Brenna’s town, and her considerateness with every decision that day helped Sinclair feel less nervous.

  The clunk of a wooden drawer meant Brenna had returned to the bedroom. Sinclair finished in the bathroom and opened the door.

  Brenna held some clothing and pointed to the bathroom. “Do you have everything you need? Just help yourself in there.”

  “I do.” Sinclair paused, then offered Brenna the bathroom with a wave of her hand. “Your turn.”

  Brenna began to pass her and stopped. “How’s the temperature? I can turn the heat on.”

  “It’s just right.”

  “Would you like a glass of water?”

  “No, thanks, I’m fine.”

  “A different kind of pillow? Those are goose down but I have some—”

  “Are you nervous?”

  Brenna’s shoulders dropped slightly. “I am. I just want you to feel comfortable.”

  “This is all perfect.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll…I’ll be right out, then,” Brenna said and stepped into the bathroom.

  Sinclair slipped between the silky, clean sheets of the king-size platform bed. Though she was tired from the drive, she was wide-awake, listening to Brenna brush her teeth and wash her hands or face. She was about to spend the night with a new woman. It didn’t happen often, but when it had, the pace was usually more rushed and frenetic, almost out of desperation.

  It was as if her dates could sense that she might change her mind and run, which was exactly why Sinclair sometimes rushed. They knew it and she knew it.

  Not so with Brenna. They had only kissed, and those kisses were magnificently languid and unhurried, making them much more meaningful. A slow kiss demanded true connection and intimacy. It was like sharing a private secret so important that the recipient felt like the giver had entrusted her with its deeply held meaning.

  Brenna emerged from the bathroom and stood in the doorway wearing a thin white T-shirt and blue boxer shorts. Sinclair’s body immediately reacted to her perfectly sized breasts and long legs. She sucked in an open-mouthed breath and suppressed a groan.

  Brenna looked down and then back up and said, “I’m not a regular at Victoria’s Secret.”

  Sinclair chuckled. “Come here anyway.”

  Brenna slipped into bed. As she lifted the covers revealing Sinclair’s white T-shirt and black bikini underwear, Sinclair added, “Neither am I.”

  “Oh, my God,” Brenna whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

  Sinclair opened her arms and Brenna moved into them, tucking her head close to hers, and wrapped her arm over Sinclair’s waist. They talked for a long while about Sinclair’s drive to New York and Brenna’s upcoming show. As they shared stories, Brenna’s hand gripped her when she emphasized a certain word, and Sinclair liked the connection. Slowly, she began to rub small circles and ventured to the area between her side and back. Sinclair tried not to flinch when Brenna eventually found the bumps on her skin, but she must have grown stiff because Brenna lifted her head.

  “Does that hurt?”

  “No.” Sinclair had known this conversation would come eventually.

  Brenna peered over Sinclair’s side and saw the raised circles that dotted her side and back.

  “They’re cigarette burns,” Sinclair said.

  “Oh, my God, Sinclair.”

  “I told you my childhood wasn’t very much fun.”

  Brenna raised up farther and moved over her body. She slowly bent lower to kiss each scar. “This should never have happened to you.”

  Sinclair closed her eyes as the soft lips soothed her. “I used to wish they’d eventually fade, but it doesn’t look like they will.”

  “If they’re a part of you now, then let them represent your strength.”

  “Sometimes I don’t feel too strong.”

  A powerful mix of tenderness and intensity washed over Brenna’s face. “You survived it all.”

  Deeply moved, Sinclair pulled her into an embrace and held on tight.

  “Mmm.” Brenna’s breath tickled her neck.

  It was quiet for a while and Sinclair listened to the faint sounds of the city eighteen stories below. Finally she said, “You have a very huggy family.”

  Brenna pulled her head back so she could look into Sinclair’s eyes. “I know. I hope that’s all right. We’ve always been that way.”

  “It’s wonderful. I’m just not used to it.”

  “Well, there’s nothing like a good hug from Mom to make things feel better. And she’ll have a lot of them for you, too.”

  Sinclair’s throat tightened at such a kind and caring offer. Her breath stuttered as she inhaled and Brenna squeezed her tighter.

  “I’m sorry for whatever happened to you,” Brenna said.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “But it still hurts.”

  She was right. The discomfort came up when she let herself be close to people. Maybe that’s why she’d always rushed through intimacy before. That way, it was easier to keep the pain at bay. She could get her bodily needs met but stop short of establishing relationships that she was afraid to trust.

  “My childhood wasn’t a learning ground for family closeness,” she said.

  She didn’t even know how healthy relationships looked. “What was it like growing up in your family?”

  Brenna rolled onto her back and reached for Sinclair’s hand. “Normal, I guess. We went to school every day and had dinner at home every night, then did our homework. We spent Christmas, Easter, all the holidays, together, or sometimes we’d travel to my mom’s only sister’s house in Rochester. My mom and dad’s parents had all died before I was six, and Dad is an only child, so we spent time with Aunt Alice. We vacationed every summer. Mom and Dad picked different places, but we’d always load up the car and take road trips. My favorites were Arizona, Florida, and California.”

  “Warm places.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And you and Beanie are close.”

  “We are now. We didn’t used to be. I’m six years older so having a baby sister around didn’t work for me sometimes. Imagine trying to impress your high-school friends when your eleven-year-old sister is making stupid slurping noises with her milk shake. And when she graduated from high school, she didn’t go to college for a few years and just sat around, goofing off. I’d go over to my parents’ house and see her laying around. I didn’t like it and we argued a lot. She’s so much more laid-back than I am. I thought she should go straight to college like I did, and she thought I had a stick up my ass.”

  Sinclair nudged her with her hip. “Type A?”

  “I suppose I better embrace that. But she’s just different than I am and I finally let it go. She’s an amazing person. I love her to death.”

  She loves her to death. The thought made Sinclair uneasy.

  “My dad is a developer and my mom works for the county records department. We all get together at least o
nce a week for dinner. Beanie’s got a boyfriend who’s nice. I’d say I’ve had a pretty easy life. It’s all pretty normal stuff.”

  “Normal is nice.”

  “Are you in contact with your stepbrother?”

  “No. I imagine he’s still abusive and I had enough back then.”

  She heard Brenna inhale deeply and blow her breath out. What could she tell her? It was bad enough that she’d risked everything to come to New York, consequently exposing herself, but could she trust Brenna?

  No, not yet. “When I left, I cut all ties. I haven’t spoken to him since and that’s the way it needs to be.”

  “You’re a strong woman for escaping. Leaving at fifteen must have been so scary. And hard on you.” She raised up, turning toward Sinclair, supporting herself on her elbow. “I’ve never had to struggle for anything. I’ve been fortunate to have my family. They provided me with everything I needed.”

  “What about love?”

  “Struggle for love? I can’t say that I have, really. I’ve had some girlfriends,” she said, then paused. “Sure, lies and betrayals and arguments were difficult, but it was always easier to leave a relationship than to fight for something. I mean, by the time the shit hit the fan, the emotional connection was usually pretty much destroyed.”

  “When was your last relationship?”

  “A long time ago. I was with a woman named Petra for about a year. She was an artist. It was good for a while but then it went to hell.”

  “What happened?”

  “I fell really hard for her. She was a controlling person and I let her be. So much so that I neglected my gallery. We stayed in her apartment day and night, living off sushi, wine, and what I thought was love. The business virtually fell into ruins. I wasn’t going in or paying bills, and Lucy, who was my only employee at the time, floundered while I rolled around in my irresponsibility.

  “My parents funded the opening of the gallery, and they got wind of all that and stepped in. It was completely embarrassing, failing my mom and dad like that. Default notices started rolling in, but I still didn’t care. My mom harangued me but I fought back, saying I was an adult and could tend to my life as I wanted.

  “And then one evening, my phone rang. I could hear Petra talking with another woman, and though the conversation was muffled, I could tell it was pretty intimate.”

  “She called you to let you know she was with another woman?”

  “Not exactly. She butt-dialed me and I heard more than I wanted to. When I confronted her, she told me she felt trapped and wanted to see other people. I was devastated and left her. After that, I focused only on my business and finally brought it back from ruination. If I hadn’t gotten that phone call, I’d have lost the gallery.”

  “Wow. I guess it was better to find out sooner than later.”

  “Yeah. I owe my undying gratitude to her butt.”

  She laughed at Brenna’s ability to recover. “And since then?”

  “Nothing but work.”

  “You haven’t seen anyone?”

  “I’ve dated. Mostly artists, though you’d think I would have learned that lesson, but since my social circle revolves around them, that’s who I meet. I’ve never had a long-term relationship, though.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a lot of work sometimes. More work than the gallery. When I date someone, we have some fun, and then it ends. I’m not sure I’m the staying type.”

  “The staying type?”

  “Dating’s the easy part. But after a while, I can’t picture myself with them for the long haul. Or if we start to fight, it’s been easier to leave. Other than Petra, maybe that’s why I’ve never had a bad breakup to speak of.”

  “No one’s ever tried to fight for you?”

  “A little, maybe. But I could never give them as much as they wanted. Since Petra, I haven’t let anything get between me and my work, so I’ve been accused of being callous and selfish.”

  “Do you think you’re those things?”

  Brenna was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think I’m callous. When I’ve broken up with someone, I’m sure it looked like I didn’t care, but to them the only way I could appear to care for them is if I stayed with them. Which I couldn’t do once I felt it was over. And I imagine that walking away from a relationship because I was done would make me selfish.”

  “What kind of relationship would be right for you?”

  “That’s a good question. I want to find something with that person that makes me want to stay. Something that would really keep me there. But sometimes I wonder if I haven’t gotten to the place where I leave before I can ever find out.”

  “Artists can be difficult people.”

  Brenna smiled. “Don’t I know it.”

  “So, is that why you like me?”

  “I like passion. Artists wear their hearts on their sleeves and it’s sexy. But with you, it feels like more than that. I know that must sound like a line, but,” she slowly shook her head as if she were pleasantly surprised, “I felt immediately drawn to you on a more emotional level.”

  “Even though I almost scared you off?”

  She chuckled. “After I realized you weren’t going to clock me on the head with a rock or something, I wasn’t too scared. I know we’re just getting to know each other, but this feels really different than what I’ve experienced with other women. Does that sound weird?”

  “Not at all. Except for the rock part. If I didn’t feel the same way, you couldn’t have convinced me to leave Pemaquid Point.”

  “I’m glad, then.” Brenna smiled, and the sultry look in her eyes felt like an aphrodisiac. Sinclair’s chest grew warm.

  “What about you?” Brenna said.

  “I’m not overly experienced in the relationship department. The only one that was mildly serious was with a woman in town. Well, all have been with women in town.”

  Brenna’s eyes widened playfully.

  “I mean, there’ve only been a few. I don’t get out much. Donna and I were together on and off for a few years, but I decided we were better friends than lovers.”

  “Donna…the bartender at the Seaside Stop?”

  “Yeah. Do you know her?”

  “I stopped in the day after we first met. Great crab cakes.”

  “Yes. And she’s great, too. I’m glad we’re best friends now.”

  “And the others?”

  “Just some women who live locally. A dinner here and there but nothing serious.”

  Brenna reached over to her cheek and stroked it gently. “I like you, Sinclair Grady.”

  Brenna’s comment allowed her to inhale deeply and let out an excited breath. In the couple of weeks since meeting Brenna, she’d busied herself making arrangements for the trip and picked up the pace on her work. She’d mostly worried about leaving her safe haven and how she’d feel once she was in the city. Even during the long drive south, she envisioned different scenarios in a city full of hazards, mentally rehearsing how to stay calm and not look over her shoulder.

  What she hadn’t anticipated hit her like a rogue wave when she walked into the L’Art de Vie Gallery and saw the broad smile on Brenna’s lovely face. An unbelievably strong and immediate desire for Brenna had erupted inside her and threatened to buckle her knees.

  “I like you, too, Brenna Wright.”

  Brenna pulled her closer, and Sinclair kissed her. Brenna’s soft lips responded to hers and their tongues met in earnest discovery. The kiss was deeper, more sensuous than before. Brenna was tender, delicate, and extremely considerate of her feelings. Brenna wanted her to feel comfortable, and though it was obvious that their feelings for each other were progressing, she was taking things slow, which was incredibly sexy.

  After a long while, Sinclair pulled away slowly. “You’re a remarkable kisser.”

  “Takes one to know one.” Brenna balanced on one elbow, looking down at her. “I love your lips.” She brushed a finger over them
.

  Sinclair wanted to purr. “I can’t remember the last time I made out for so long.”

  “I can’t remember the last time I heard the term made out.”

  They laughed and Sinclair said, “I know it sounds like high school, but I feel like an excited teenager right now.”

  “So do I. This is awesome. I could kiss you all night.”

  Sinclair inhaled slowly and sighed. “You’d stop if I needed you to, wouldn’t you?”

  “I would, yes.” Brenna’s eyes sparkled.

  “Thank you for being so understanding.”

  “You’ve taken a big step by coming here to see me. Whatever makes you feel comfortable and safe, Sinclair, I’ll do. Or not do. Just let me know what you need.”

  “What do you need?”

  “You being here. As far as what I want, I want to spend time with you. I want to take things one at a time, if that’s what will give us the best chance of getting to know each other.” Sinclair watched Brenna’s lips. “I want to please you.”

  “Define please.”

  Brenna looked as if she was trying to squash a smile. “I knew that might get me into trouble as soon as the word left my mouth. I want what pleases you. I want you to have a great time while you’re here. I’m not necessarily referring to while we’re in my bed.”

  Sinclair felt so at ease she couldn’t help but tease her a little. “Not necessarily?”

  “Well, I’m not sure what you want so I don’t want to be presumptuous.”

  “You’re being very chivalrous right now.”

  “It’s hard to lie here and be well-mannered without part of my brain screaming that I’ve got an unbelievably stunning woman in bed with me right now.”

  “Am I making this difficult for you?”

  “Very.”

  “Do you want to make out some more?”

  Steamy-sultry ardor flashed in Brenna’s eyes. Sinclair pulled Brenna on top of her.

  She eagerly welcomed her mouth and tongue as Brenna kissed her with languid, easy strokes of her tongue and quick teasing nips at Sinclair’s lips. They explored each other thoroughly, intimately, and the more they took their time learning each other with their mouths, the more Sinclair got turned on.