Bliss (21 page)

"Boring?" She released a snort of laughter. "I don't think
so."

"We'll see."

They sat in silence listening to the soft voices of Lydia and
Victor a few feet away. The evening was quieter now, with
only the call of seabirds, the whisper of seawater spilling on the sand, and the occasional shout of laughter, to disturb its
peace.

"Do you live alone in America?" Nikki asked suddenly.

Sinclair sighed at the remembered sense of peace that
being in the apartment alone gave her. "Yes."

"You weren't scared about being alone like that?"

Sinclair shook her head. "I like being alone. The quiet is
nice."

"Victor says that, too, about the way it was before I came
to live with him, but it's hard to believe that people actually
like to be alone." She glanced quickly at her husband, then
away. "When you're alone it's too easy to be lonely."

"Not really. It's easier than being alone in a group of people. I enjoy my alone time, especially now that I'm here."

"But what about America?" She propped her chin up on a
fist and fixed her rapt gaze on Sinclair.

"It's OK. I have a lot of advantages being there, but I
wouldn't say that it's better than being on the island."
Sinclair didn't want to tell her how it had really been, especially after Gram died-the sense of isolation, of not belonging, and always feeling like she'd been missing something.
"It's beautiful here. The sort of place where I could be happy
living. "

"I thought you'd be bored here. No theaters, no sushi."

"I don't eat sushi."

Nikki laughed. "The television was wrong about that, too.
I thought every modern American woman loves sushi."

"Some do, but not this one. I prefer my fish well cooked."
Sinclair grinned. "But I do like sake though."

"What's that?"

As Sinclair explained the pleasures of Japanese rice wine to
her stepmother, Victor, Xavier, and Lydia finished cooking
their dinner and took it off the fire.

"Food's ready!"

The family sat under the large lean-to sharing the fragrant meal of roasted corn, fish, and ripe breadfruit, their fingers
scooping up the hot, roasted food to appreciative mouths.
The sun's glow slowly disappeared, allowing a blanket of
stars to spread out above them. Lydia, Nikki, and Sinclair sat
together, eating and talking about American men and what
they found acceptable in their women. Victor sat with Xavier
on his knee and watched the women, his eyes straying occasionally to the stars.

"Where's Hunter tonight, Lydia?"

Sinclair glanced quickly at their father, wondering what he
knew about Hunter and Lydia's current situation.

"Probably at home. I thought this was a family thing so I
didn't invite her."

Even Xavier could tell that she was lying. "She been to
other things before," he said.

Lydia shot him a look of annoyance, but said nothing.

"Is everything all right with her?" Nikki asked with concern.

"Everything is fine. Really. She just has a lot of work to do
and I needed some time with my family."

Victor and Nikki exchanged a look. Sinclair bit into her
corn and focused her attentions on her sand-flecked toe. Lydia's
pain was so raw and obvious that she couldn't bring herself
to look at it.

inclair stood on Hunter's steps with an umbrella protecting her hair from the rain. The wind whipped fiercely
around her, tugging at her clothes and flinging raindrops all
over her. After the cookout on the beach she'd found herself
thinking of Hunter more and more, wondering if she and
Lydia were still together, and if not then.... Sinclair had
managed to wait as long as Wednesday, three days after the
cookout, to go find Hunter. Her belly trembled with nervousness as she knocked on the door.

"I came by to see how the painting was going," she said
when Hunter answered her knock.

She smiled tiredly. "It's almost done, but you can't see it.
I'm working on other not-so-fun stuff right now."

"Spoilsport." Sinclair made a face. "Can I at least come
in?"

"Absolutely." The other woman's eyes slid over her. "You're
always welcome here." She leaned against the doorjamb and
her smile widened. The exhaustion slowly bled from her face.
"It really is good to see you."

"Really? Then why won't you let me in?"

Hunter laughed. "Because I like to see you getting wet?"

"Very funny." Sinclair tucked her umbrella into a corner
of the verandah, then sidled closer to the doorway. Hunter
didn't move. If possible, the rain started coming down harder. Lightning split the darkened sky and a roar of thunder quickly
followed. Hunter stepped out of the doorway toward Sinclair.
"Come on. Let's try something."

"What?" Sinclair looked at her with suspicion and took a
step back. "Are you talking about getting me killed?"

"Come, fraidy cat." She tugged at her fingers. Like a fool,
Sinclair went with her.

Without her umbrella the rain was cold and wet, sliding
into her hair and under her shirt with chilled fingers. "Oh!
This is not fun."

"Yes, it is." Hunter grabbed her hand and pulled her to the
backyard. The stone bench looked like a fountain with sheets
of water pouring from it, flooding the grass and covering
Sinclair's toes. She kicked off her waterlogged sandals.

Hunter released her hand. "Isn't this nice?" She twirled in
the downpour, flinging her arms wide and laughing. Her hair
flared out around her and rain fell into her open mouth and
down her neck. A reluctant smile touched Sinclair's mouth.
The other woman's excitement was contagious, bubbling up
a fever of appreciation inside of her. The rain no longer felt
cold, it was clean, with the heaviness of a friendly touch or a
lover's worshipful kiss. The leaves whispered under the rain's
caresses, talking to each other, celebrating. She felt a pull at
her shirt and refocused on the other woman.

"Let's get naked in it," Hunter said. She might as well have
been naked already in the white T-shirt and pale blue pajama
bottoms that clung to her wet skin.

"What?!"

"It'll be great. One with nature and all that."

"It's storming, you crazy woman!"

"I know! So let's get naked." Her fingers pulled at
Sinclair's shirt again, loosening a button.

"No." She backed away a step, then another as the other
woman came after her.

"Don't run," Hunter growled.

Of course Sinclair ran. She ran screaming around the yard, dodging the stone bench to run deeper into the wooded area,
jumping over high, twisting roots and tall shrubbery. The rain
stung her eyes, but still she ran. Hunter was a blur of white
and dark behind her, then right at her heel. She squeaked, an
embarrassingly girlish sound, when the other woman's hand
latched onto hers, and brought her up short. Still she tried to
pull away, darting around a tree and using the wide trunk to
force Hunter into releasing her. The rough bark abraded
Hunter's arm and she let go with a loud curse. Sinclair ran
back to the grassy area of the yard, past the bench, her toes
squishing in the wet grass, when Hunter grabbed her. They
both heard the shirt rip. Sinclair swung around. Damn! The
back door had been so close....

Hunter's face became hard under the rain, focused. Sinclair
looked down at herself, then blushed. She gathered the torn
ends of her shirt together and backed away.

"Shit. I'm sorry." Hunter shook the hair out of her face.
"I tend to get a little carried away."

"It's-" Sinclair cleared her froggy throat. "It's fine." The
rain and wind continued to howl around them as they stared
at each other.

Hunter arched her head back, apparently still feeling the
wildness of the storm rush through her.

"Go ahead," Sinclair said. "I'll be in the house." She slid
into the back door, then dashed to the bathroom, trailing
wetness behind her. Her nipples were hard, shamelessly begging through the wet material to be touched. And Hunter
had seen. Sinclair toweled herself dry after dropping the shirt
and jeans in the tub. Her hair she squeezed dry and quickly
combed into two short French braids. A knock came at the
door.

"I brought you some dry clothes." Hunter's hand appeared through a crack in the door. As soon as Sinclair took
the oversized shirt and cutoff shorts, the hand disappeared.

Only after she was dressed and composed, did Sinclair leave
the bathroom. Hunter must have thought she fell in or some thing. But the other woman was patiently waiting in the sitting room, dry in a sky blue head wrap that completely covered
her hair and yet another pair of cutoff jeans and a T-shirt.
She had tea waiting, two cups of hot peppermint along with
biscuits on a shared plate.

"Sorry again about your shirt. I didn't mean to get quite so
out of hand." Her speech hardened into precise British syllables.

"There's no need to apologize. I got taken in by the storm,
too." The drum of rain on the roof and the shudder of the trees
just outside reminded them that the storm was still there.
"You'll just have to buy me a new shirt and we'll call it even."

Hunter smiled, then opened her mouth. She closed it again.

"What?" Sinclair asked.

"Nothing. I was about to speak out of turn then I caught
myself. Don't worry about it." She waved a dismissive hand.

Sinclair wanted to know. Somehow she felt that it was important. "What were you going to say?" she asked softly.

"That you look good in my clothes." Hunter sprawled
back in the chair. That wasn't all she had to say. "And I'd like
to have been the direct cause of you getting wet, the reason
for you to take off your underwear."

Sinclair felt herself swell against the seam of Hunter's shorts.

"Are you wearing panties now?"

"You're right." Sinclair took a deep breath. "You were
about to speak out of turn."

Hunter laughed. "Chicken."

"No, just cautious. You are my sister's girlfriend, after
all." Sinclair took a sip of her tea.

"I was." Hunter dipped a digestive biscuit into the cup of
steaming brew. "Now I'm just me."

Sinclair almost choked on her tea. Abruptly, her world
shifted and resettled itself into a different arrangement.
Hunter was available. Sinclair no longer had an excuse not to
pursue her. Sinclair swallowed twice then carefully put the
cup down. "I see."

"Do you?"

The china made a soft noise as cup met saucer. Hunter
pursed her lips and watched Sinclair. Her eyes were warm
with humor and something else.

Sinclair held out her hands like she was warding the other
woman off. "I'm not up to playing with the big girls."

Hunter continued to watch her. "Is this cautious attitude
because of the girl who fucked you in the big city? The one
you're running away from?"

"Fucked me, huh?" Sinclair's mouth curved into an unexpected smile. "You have no idea." Then she sobered again
as Hunter's look became predatory, sharpening and focusing
intently on her.

"Does that mean she was good in bed?"

"Very. She introduced me to multiple orgasms."

Hunter's legs widened in the chair. She leaned forward and
braced her elbows on her thighs. "Big shoes to fill, indeed."

Sinclair laughed out loud. "You are so full of yourself."

"No. I just want you."

And there it was. Out in the open at last. A trembling
breath left Sinclair's mouth.

"When you and this girl first got together, did you make
the first move or did she?" Hunter asked.

Sinclair wondered where Hunter was going with this. "She
did."

"Is that typical of you, or-" she smiled, "if you want
something badly enough do you just take it?"

Against her will, Sinclair glanced down at the wide V of
Hunter's thighs and imagined the scent and taste that lay
there.

"So, do you?" Hunter's eyes dared her.

But, like Hunter said, Sinclair was a fraidy cat. She looked
away to the rain-swept verandah and the plants that whipped
like dervishes in the mad wind.

"I guess not." Hunter stood. "Do you want some more
tea?"

"Uh, sure," Sinclair stammered and watched confused as
the other woman disappeared into the kitchen, then came
back with a porcelain kettle. She poured herself another cup
and topped off Sinclair's before sitting once again in her
chair.

"Listen." But Sinclair stopped, sighed, and could not go
on.

"I am listening."

Sinclair sighed again. "Regina really hurt me. I'm not up
to playing any more games."

"Games are for children. I'd like to think that we've both
passed that stage. You have a few weeks left here." Hunter's
voice deepened. "I know that you're attracted to me and I
certainly, absolutely, am attracted to you. I also know that
my previous involvement with Lydia makes things ... problematic." She chuckled ruefully. "But let's not dwell on the
past, instead we should spend some time together. I could be
your perfect vacation fuck."