God, the timing sucked. “I’m not very good company right now. In fact, I think I’m half drunk.”

“I didn’t come to be entertained.” Jett held out the bag. “There’s coffee in here too. You can take it and close the door. I won’t mind. I know what it’s like to need to be alone.”

“I don’t need to be alone,” Tristan said way too fast. “What I need could be a problem, though.”

“I don’t think so,” Jett said softly.

“You don’t have any idea what I—”

“Sure I do.” Jett stepped forward, forcing Tristan back inside the apartment. Jett caught the edge of the door on her way in and closed it behind her. Without taking her eyes off Tristan, she set the donuts and coffee down, then straightened and took another step. Only an inch or two separated her body from Tristan’s. “I know what you need, and it’s not a drink. It’s not talking about it. It’s not even sleep.” She slid her hand behind Tristan’s neck and gently gripped a fistful of her hair. She pulled Tristan’s head toward her until she could skim her lips over Tristan’s. It was barely a kiss but Tristan shuddered and grabbed Jett’s hips. “You need it now, but tonight or tomorrow you might think differently.”

Tristan pressed her forehead to Jett’s shoulder. “How do you…”

Jett didn’t ask what Tristan meant. She wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her tightly, caressing the back of her head and massaging her neck. With her lips brushing Tristan’s ear, she murmured,

“Been there. Lots of times.”

“I won’t regret it. I’m not that drunk.” Tristan ran her hands up and down Jett’s back, squeezing the muscles in her shoulders and along her spine. She kissed her neck. “You feel so good.”

“So do you.” Jett wanted her. Tristan’s need was so naked, so raw, she couldn’t help but want her. Trouble was, she wanted a lot of things where Tristan was concerned, and not all of them made her happy.

She wanted to soothe and protect her, but she also hungered to claim her, hard and fast. She was pretty sure Tristan would let her, right this moment.

Maybe if she hadn’t been with Tristan in the helicopter, hadn’t seen her desperate fight, hadn’t witnessed her anguish, she might have been able to focus only on what they both wanted right now. But Tristan wasn’t some anonymous woman in a nameless bar in a soon-to-be forgotten town. And she wasn’t the woman she had been, mindlessly seeking solace in the arms of another. She wasn’t giving in to that need again.

Jett eased away, her hand in Tristan’s hair again, tugging Tristan’s head back. She kissed her, not fleetingly this time, but a deep, probing kiss to stamp the taste of her in her memory. To quench the thirst for just an instant, to savor later when she was alone and the need rode her hard.

“Let’s lie down on the couch. Let me hold you,” Jett said.

“I’m climbing out of my skin,” Tristan groaned. “Jesus, I don’t need you to hold me. I need you to fuck me.”

“Five minutes,” Jett said. “Five minutes, and I will.”

Tristan grabbed Jett’s hand and dragged Jett toward the couch.

When Tristan’s knees hit the edge, she kept going, falling back, pulling her legs up, and Jett stretched out beside her. Jett shifted until she was almost on her back and Tristan lay half on top of her, Tristan’s head nestled on her shoulder. Jett resumed massaging Tristan’s neck and shoulders, using both hands now. Tristan shivered, drawing one leg up until her thigh rode in the vee between Jett’s legs. The sudden pressure detonated a shock wave up Jett’s spine, but she concentrated on Tristan.

“Close your eyes.” Jett kneaded the knotted muscles at the base of Tristan’s skull.

“I think about you,” Tristan said, her voice soft and slow. “I think about you inside—”

“Shh,” Jett whispered. “Tell me later.”

After a long moment of silence, Tristan said, “What if there isn’t…any later.”

Jett remembered not being able to count on another day. When any day, every day, could be the last. How the fear became anger, and the anger need. She kissed Tristan’s forehead and continued to stroke her. She didn’t say, there will be time later, because she didn’t know if there would be another day for them. If there was nothing else between them, at least there would be truth.

When all Jett could hear in the quiet room was the steady tick of her watch and Tristan’s soft breathing, she gently slipped away.

Chapter Sixteen

Jett let herself out of Tristan’s apartment, half hoping as she made her way down the stairs that the apartment door behind her would open and Tristan would call her back. Leaving her had been hard, but not nearly as hard as not touching her. She wasn’t exactly sure why she had held back. Tristan had made it clear what she wanted, and Jett couldn’t deny she had too. She’d been drawn to Tristan from the start, and physical attraction she understood. Every time she saw her, the attraction grew. If she went back upstairs, she wouldn’t resist again. Which was why she kept walking until she was outside. Sex with Tristan wouldn’t be what she was used to—it couldn’t be anonymous, and she wasn’t even sure it could be casual. She knew Tristan. She liked her. She felt for her, watching her struggle with sadness and pain. She cared. Hell.

When Jett reached the street she found the air already oppressively heavy and hot despite the early hour, but the idea of returning to her apartment to toss and turn held no appeal. For a few seconds she thought about Linda’s invitation to breakfast, then dismissed the idea with a mental laugh. Linda was most likely in bed, either sleeping or making good on her earlier promise to seduce her girlfriend. Besides, Jett didn’t just drop in on people. Like she’d just dropped in on Tristan.

She wondered just exactly what was happening to her, because she was behaving less and less like herself every day.

Disturbed, aroused, she strode rapidly to her Jeep, and then simply walked past. If she got in she’d go home, and that seemed just a little bit like prison today. By the end of the block she was sweating, but she barely noticed the heat. Nothing would ever truly feel hot again after the desert, and working her body was what she needed. Usually she dispelled her mental anxiety and physical tension with aggressive sex, but the fast pace in the broiling sun was almost doing the job—almost.

She couldn’t quite shake the sensation of holding Tristan. And she couldn’t forget Tristan asking her, almost begging her, to take her. The encounter had her needing sex, more than she had in a long time. Sex and something more, and the more part scared her.

Jett’s stomach tightened at the thought of having Tristan beneath her, of making her writhe and cry out with pleasure, of letting go of everything except the sight and sound of Tristan. She couldn’t pretend it was just sex she wanted. She wanted Tristan. She picked up her pace, hardly registering the presence of anyone else until a woman called to her.

“Hey you,” a familiar voice said. “Hungry already?”

Jett slowed and noted exactly where she was for the first time in blocks. To her left lay the playing fields where Linda had brought her the night she’d driven her home from the hospital. And coming across the grass toward her was Mandy, a self-satisfied smile on her face. Jett wondered, as she watched Mandy’s breasts rise and fall beneath her tight white T-shirt, if she’d come here with the subconscious intention of finding what she needed. Mandy had said she’d come looking for her when she got needy, and here she was.

“I’ve got T-ball practice in a few minutes,” Mandy said, rising on her tiptoes to kiss Jett quickly. “But after that you could definitely talk me into leaving early.”

“Hi.” Jett stepped back a pace. “Would you believe I was in the neighborhood?”

“Sure I would. I’d also believe you’ve got an itch that I know just how to scratch.”

Jett laughed, because Mandy had her number—as far as Mandy knew. “Several of them, probably. But not today.”

“You’re kidding.”

Jett shook her head.

“You mean you actually are just in the neighborhood?”

Jett nodded.

“Well, all right.” Mandy traced her fingers down the center of Jett’s chest. “Since you’re here, we should still make the most of it.”

She studied Jett through narrowed eyes. “Let me guess. You haven’t had any recreation to speak of since the last time we were together.”

She ran her fingernail along the edge of Jett’s jaw and Jett jerked back.

Mandy chuckled. “Mmm, yeah, and you are very ready for some fun.”

Jett wasn’t going to deny it. The lie would show. “I’m still going to pass.”

“Why?” Mandy sounded genuinely confused. “You had a good time. I had a good time. We understand each other. That’s unusual and not something to just throw away.”

“I know.” Jett slid her hands into her pockets and watched the children run up and down the field shouting exuberantly. She tried to remember when her life had stopped being simple and spontaneous.

When she was their age, maybe, maybe younger. About the time she realized she was different, and others noticed too. “You make it sound simple. I’m not sure why it isn’t.”

“When sex stops being about sex, it gets complicated.” Mandy tapped Jett’s chin teasingly. “I’m not interested in complicated. I didn’t think you were, either.” She leaned close but didn’t touch Jett again.

“What I’m interested in is you doing what you did to me last time. More than once and in many different ways.”

Jett thought about Tristan, about her pain and how much she’d wanted to ease it. She thought about how much she’d wanted her, and she couldn’t tell if the two were connected. Gail had been one of the few women in her life who she’d had feelings for, and when her feelings got twisted up with her desires, she’d suffered for it. Maybe mixing sex with caring just didn’t work for her. Mandy was watching her, waiting.