Radclyffe - Turn Back Time

"Do you have ulterior motives?"

Wynter ran water in the sink to wash potatoes and carrots. "Such as what?"

"You know what what. You already kissed her. Are you planning on doing more?"

"I don't know. Maybe. We agreed to see what happens."

Rosie snorted. "Oh please. That's what everyone says when what they really mean is, let's hop into bed at the first opportunity."

"Is that right?"

"Yes, it is, and you're only hedging because Pearce isn't a guy."

"Don't you think that makes sense?"

"I don't know. Does it? You've already kissed her. That kinda cancels out the guy thing, don't you think?"

Wynter moved Ronnie's empty dinner plate out of reach and draped a damp dish towel over her daughter's hands. As she methodically wiped each finger, she said, "I'm attracted to her. I don't know what that means beyond that fact. Maybe nothing will happen."

"What about last night, then?"

"I hadn't planned it. I just...did it without thinking."

"You're not usually impulsive."

"No. I'm not. I've never had a chance to be."

"What if it turns out you're gay?"

"Is this really why you called?" Wynter picked Ronnie up, cradling the portable phone against her shoulder. "Come on, honey. Bath time."

"I guess," Rosie said after a pause. "I mean, I just never suspected...

you never said anything like maybe you were."

"I haven't been keeping secrets, Rosie," Wynter said, hearing the hurt in her voice. "I would've told you."

"Honest?"

Wynter smiled. "Honest. I never thought about it. I was in school, then I was married, then the residency started. Then it all went to hell. My life was either too busy or too crazy to think about much of anything."

"Your life's still pretty crazy, you know."

"I know. She's just coming for dinner."

"Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure."

"Would it bother you?" Wynter sat Ronnie on the closed toilet seat, handed her a bath toy to keep her occupied, and knelt to untie her sneakers. "If it turns out that maybe I am?"

"Would it bother you?"

"I don't think so. Mom and Dad pretty much raised us to believe that people's private lives are private." Wynter tugged off Ronnie's corduroy overalls. "I'm not naïve enough to think it would be easy, but that's never stopped me. You didn't answer my question."

"You know, we never got to talk very much after you went away to school, and I only saw you and Dave a few times a year at holidays.

But you never looked particularly happy to me."

"It wasn't all his fault," Wynter admitted, pulling Ronnie's T-shirt off over her head. "He's a horse's a--" she glanced at Ronnie, "behind, but I wasn't paying very much attention to what I needed or wanted."

"You looked happier last night than I can remember since high school."

"I was."

"So why would it bother me?"

Wynter closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Thanks."

"I love you. I gotta go study. Wayne's got a gig tonight, and I promised I'd be there."

"Have fun."

"You'll tell me when something happens, right?"

" If something happens."

"Uh-huh."

"I love you too. Go study." Wynter set the phone aside and cuddled her daughter. "Ready for a bath with Ducky?"

Ronnie nodded yes, accompanied by quacking sounds for emphasis.

As Pearce climbed the steps to Wynter's new home, it occurred to her that she had never had a dinner invitation like this before. She didn't date. She had neither the time nor the inclination. Most of the time she fell into bed with someone she bumped into at O'Malley's or crossed paths with in the middle of the night in the hospital. She didn't take women to the movies, she didn't go with them to concerts, and she didn't spend Saturday nights in their homes. But here she was.

She shook her head, wondering exactly how Wynter managed to get her to do things she'd never done before. Deciding there was no point in trying to figure out why everything had always been different with Wynter, she rang the bell.

A minute later, Wynter answered, a scrubbed and pajamaed Ronnie in her arms. "Hi. I was just putting her to bed. Come on in. I'll just be a minute."

"Hi." Pearce noted that Wynter looked just as good in her casual jeans, sneakers, and red open-collared shirt as she had in leather the night before. Realizing she was staring, Pearce held out a bottle of wine. "A housewarming present."

"Thank you." Wynter held the door wide. "Do you remember where the kitchen is?"

Pearce nodded, adding a bit shyly, "And something for Ronnie."

She passed the box containing Bob the Builder's Wooden Race Track set into Ronnie's outstretched arms. "Here you go, kiddo."

"Oh," Wynter said with a laugh. "You're in trouble now. She'll never go to bed."

"I suppose it's too late to take it back."

"Way way too late." Wynter leaned forward and kissed Pearce's cheek. "That was sweet."

Pearce wondered if Wynter could tell that the slightest touch from her made Pearce vibrate like a tuning fork snapped against the side of a table. She was surprised the air around her wasn't moving. "It's just a little thing."

"Would you mind very much setting it up for her while I put the last few touches on dinner?" Wynter smiled sheepishly. "I know it's probably not what you had in mind for the evening, but--"

"It'll be fun," Pearce said quickly. "Besides, I wanna see how it goes together."

Laughing, feeling ridiculously happy, Wynter said, "Let's go upstairs."

Fifteen minutes later, Wynter walked down the second-floor hallway to Ronnie's room, listening to her daughter's delighted laughter.

She stopped in the bedroom doorway to take in the scene. A wooden racetrack in a figure eight sat in the middle of the floor surrounded by half-constructed houses. Pearce lay on her side on one side of the track with Ronnie on the other. Each held a wooden racecar that they propelled more or less around the track. Ronnie seemed to delight in trying to drive hers into Pearce's. After a particularly resounding crash, Pearce made sounds resembling an explosion and fell over onto her back. Ronnie clapped.

Pearce turned her head, saw Wynter, and grinned. "She's tough."

"I should've warned you." Wynter took in Pearce's form as she sprawled unselfconsciously on the floor. She wore the same black boots as the night before, this time with blue jeans and a plain white T-shirt.

The jeans, cinched with a wide black leather belt, rode low on her hips, and Wynter could imagine fitting her body into the vee of Pearce's thighs and the shallow plane of her stomach. Wynter's gaze traveled up to Pearce's face, and when their eyes met, she had to look away as a wave of heat passed through her. "Let me put her to bed."

Pearce got to her feet. "Should I wait downstairs?"

"Probably," Wynter murmured as she lifted Ronnie. "You're too much of a distraction."

"Oh yeah?" Pearce ran a fingertip down the outside of Wynter's arm. She'd seen the appreciative look in Wynter's eyes, and it'd gotten her stirred up. It didn't take any more than that from her. Just a look.

Not even a touch. She felt a pulse beat between her thighs. "Is that a problem?"

"Yes," Wynter whispered. "Go away now."

Pearce laughed and touched Ronnie's hair. "Night, kiddo."

Ronnie grinned. "Night, kiddo."

When Wynter came downstairs, Pearce was waiting in the living room. She leaned against the sofa, her ankles and arms crossed, a lazy smile on her face. "Everything okay?"

"No," Wynter said, crossing the room to her. "I forgot something."

"What?" Pearce asked nonchalantly, even though the heat in Wynter's eyes had ignited the fire in her belly that always seemed to simmer when she was anywhere near Wynter. This time, she was more than ready for Wynter to put it out.

"This." Wynter put both hands on Pearce's arms and pulled them down to her sides, then leaned into her and kissed her. It was just as she remembered it, only better. Pearce's body was just as hot, just as tightly coiled, but this time, Pearce kissed her back with a ferocity that took her breath away. Pearce's arms came around her hard, and Wynter felt hands cup her ass, felt a hard thigh thrust between her legs. Then she was spinning, and she was against the sofa and Pearce's mouth was on her neck. She arched her back. "Oh God."