Chapter Fifteen

Honor rolled over and listened for the sounds of her family.

Jack slept peacefully beside the bed in his bassinet, his breathing gentle and sweet. Arly’s laughter and Phyllis’s mellifluous tones floated up to her through her open bedroom door. The shower ran in the adjoining bathroom. Quinn was home.

She lay still for a few more moments, appreciating the joy in her life. Then, moving carefully so as not to wake the baby, she got out of bed, padded barefoot to the bedroom door, and closed and locked it. On her way to the bathroom, she lifted her nightgown over her head and draped it on a chair in passing. Through the steam and streaks of water on the glass shower door, she could make out Quinn’s form inside.

Even the distortion of the glass and pounding water could not disguise the tight muscular shape of her athletic body. Honor slid the door open and stepped under the spray.

“Welcome home.” Honor wrapped her arms around Quinn’s waist and kissed her between the shoulder blades.

“Did I wake you?” Quinn spoke without turning, her voice gruff, as if she’d been shouting for a long time and had gone hoarse.

“You didn’t, but I wouldn’t care if you did.” Honor rested her cheek against Quinn’s back, one arm still around her waist. She ran her other hand over Quinn’s chest between her breasts, tracing her fingertips over the scar below Quinn’s collarbone where her defibrillator had been. “I missed you.”

Quinn clasped Honor’s hand and leaned back against her. “Missed you too. Missed the kids. How are they?”

“Everyone’s fine. Phyllis helped Arly give Jack a bottle yesterday afternoon when I went in to the ER for a few hours to do some paperwork. Arly hasn’t stopped talking about it yet.”

“You didn’t work too hard, did you?”

“I couldn’t if I’d wanted to. Everyone treated me like spun glass.”

Honor shook her head, touched by everyone’s concern, but tired of being immobile and basically useless except for providing meals for Jack. As much as she loved everything about her children, she needed a little bit more than twenty-four-hours-a-day motherhood. She needed to work for her own sense of self, and she wanted the kids to grow up seeing that family meant helping everyone else realize their dreams.

Keeping one arm around Quinn, Honor reached for the soap and began lathering Quinn’s back. “I scheduled myself for half days starting next week.”

“You sure?”

“Really, I’ll just supervise. I already talked to Phyllis, and she’s good with taking care of both kids. I don’t want to go back full time until Jack’s a little older anyhow. But I need to get out of the house.”

She laughed and turned Quinn in the spray. “I need to remind the troops who’s in charge in the ER before certain surgeons I know take over.”

“Like we’d forget.” Quinn smoothed her hands over Honor’s shoulders, then cupped her chin, scrutinizing her face. She brushed her thumb along the ridge beneath Honor’s eyes. “You’re still really pale.”

Honor was about to dismiss Quinn’s concerns, but when she got a good look at Quinn’s face, she forgot all about the ER and working and what she needed. “God, baby, you look absolutely beat.” She brushed wet strands of hair back from Quinn’s forehead. “You didn’t get any sleep at all last night, did you?”

“Not much,” Quinn said nonchalantly, averting her gaze.

“Did you operate all night?”

“Most of it.” Quinn reached for the shampoo. “Turn around. I’ll wash your hair.”

Biding her time, waiting for Quinn to elaborate, Honor turned her back to Quinn and let the water soak her hair. “I’m getting spoiled with all this pampering.”

“If you’re just now getting spoiled, I’ve been falling down on the job,” Quinn murmured as she worked her fingers through Honor’s hair.

Honor moaned quietly with pleasure and settled her butt against Quinn’s crotch. “Believe me, you are doing just fine in the pampering department.”

“Good.” Quinn disconnected the handheld portion of the showerhead and used it to rinse Honor’s hair. When she was done, she finger-combed the thick silky strands, then lightly clasped Honor’s shoulders, pulled her around, and kissed her. “All done.”

Honor snaked her arms around Quinn’s waist. “Thank you. Now, tell me about last night.”

Quinn’s grip on Honor’s shoulders tightened. “Later. Let’s go to bed.”

There was something in the way Quinn looked, the way she sounded, as if she were keeping something painful at bay, that made Honor want to comfort her. Honor grasped Quinn’s hand, turned off the shower, and led her out. They quickly dried off, and after a few more seconds were on their way to bed.

Quinn stopped next to Jack and watched him sleep. “He looks good. He’s good, right?”

“He’s perfect.” Honor lifted the covers and slid under them, then held them up. “Come on. Come to bed, Quinn.”

Quinn stretched out next to Honor and sighed. When she reached for Honor, Honor propped herself up on one elbow and stroked Quinn’s face. Then she kissed her. “You’re trying to pretend you’re relaxed, but I can tell you’re not. Your body is tight as a drum.”

“Just tired.”

“That’s part of it.” Honor brushed her hand over Quinn’s breasts and Quinn jerked, vibrating at the touch. Her eyes were the deep, deep blue they became when she was troubled or aroused, or both. Quinn didn’t want to talk, Honor knew that, and she wouldn’t push her. Quinn would tell her what was troubling her when she was ready. In the meantime, Honor would give her what she could. “Close your eyes and let me put you to sleep.”

“Honor,” Quinn said, her voice dropping low. “It’s too soon.”

“Not for everything.” Honor kissed her. “Close your eyes.”

Quinn hesitated for a second longer, and then as if the decision had been made, she circled Honor’s shoulders with one arm and pulled her closer. She pressed her mouth to Honor’s ear. “I want you. I love you.”

“I love you, baby,” Honor whispered, cleaving to Quinn’s body as she caressed Quinn’s face, her neck, her chest, her abdomen. She kept stroking her as she followed the same path with her mouth, bestowing soft kisses across the hard muscles and silky skin. Even though Quinn’s breathing quickly grew shallow and uneven, Quinn held Honor ever so carefully, trying not to squeeze too tightly, not to move too much, not to do anything that might hurt her. Honor wanted to break that restraint, but she knew Quinn needed it. Quinn needed not to worry about her right now.

“I’m going to make you come,” Honor whispered, her mouth against Quinn’s neck. She slipped her fingers between Quinn’s legs and continued her caresses, slowly at first, increasing the pressure and speed until Quinn’s hips lifted beneath her hand and Quinn groaned, shuddering in her arms.

“That’s right, baby,” Honor whispered. “Everything is all right.”

When Quinn turned her face into Honor’s breasts, Honor cradled her head and smoothed her fingers through Quinn’s hair. Honor held her until her breathing gentled, easing into the same quiet rhythm as that of their baby sleeping nearby. When she was certain that Quinn was safe from whatever demons had followed her home, Honor closed her eyes and slept.

Tristan poured an inch of scotch into a glass tumbler and swirled the honey-colored liquid until small eddies climbed up the inside of the glass. It might be seven thirty in the morning, but she’d been working for the last twenty-four hours, and it had been a hell of a night. She walked to the door leading out to her small porch and thought about sitting outside, but she was too restless to sit. She sipped the scotch. The burn was familiar as it made its way down. Otherwise, it was tasteless.

A waste of good scotch, but safer than some of the other potential remedies for a hyped-up nervous system and the waking nightmares that were guaranteed to follow her into sleep. A morning, better yet, a day of sex might put her right, but she couldn’t keep dragging Darla away from work, and now that she thought of it, she hadn’t connected with any of her other usual dates for a few weeks. She could hardly invite them over out of the blue to service her needs. She poured another inch of scotch. Thinking about sex made her aware of the edgy energy that thrummed at her center. She remembered coming in Darla’s mouth, but as she looked down in her mind’s eye into Darla’s face, she saw Jett looking up at her. Her body twitched and the pressure between her legs surged.

“Jesus,” she muttered. When she lifted her glass, she was surprised to find it empty. With another soft curse, she set the glass aside and strode toward her door. Her head was fuzzy but she still wasn’t tired.

She needed to do something to unwind, and drinking wasn’t going to do it and there was no sex on the horizon. Walking. Maybe walking would wear her out enough so she could sleep without dreaming. She yanked open the door and stared. Maybe she’d had more scotch than she thought. The thrum low in her belly became a drum roll.

“Uh…” Tristan said.

“I owe you breakfast,” Jett said, indicating a Dunkin’ Donuts bag in her hand. “I wasn’t sure what you like. I’m a chocolate glazed myself.”

“Apple fritter, but I can do chocolate in a pinch,” Tristan said, feeling anything but tired now. Jett still wore her black cargo pants and charcoal T-shirt from the night before. Her sandy hair was darker at her temples, damp with sweat and a little bit mussed. Windblown, or maybe disheveled from the helmet she’d worn in the helicopter. Tristan didn’t want to think about the helicopter, or the hellacious ride back from Atlantic City, or her futile battle to save the infant. She’d much rather think of how good Jett looked right now, and of how glad she was to see her, and of how very much she’d like to finish their almost kiss.