Tristan stood again and waited for a few seconds for her stomach to settle. No headache, but she was queasy. She’d been too strung out and tired the night before to eat. No wonder a couple of scotches had practically put her on her ass. On her ass with Darla in her pants. Jesus.

She picked up the pile of clothes and frowned. Sorting through them, she realized that they were not only neatly folded and stacked, they were clean. She tucked them under her arm and crept quietly down the hall in the direction of the living room.

Jett sat on a stool at the table in a faded green T-shirt and matching boxer shorts—Army issue, probably—bent over an array of tiny gold workings and several empty watch cases. She wore magnifying glasses built into a visor around her head. She held tiny screwdrivers and tweezers in a delicate grip. Tristan felt a twinge in her belly remembering what those hands were capable of doing to her body.

“You did my laundry,” Tristan said.

Jett swiveled in her direction and took off her visor. Her eyes scanned Tristan’s naked body. “It was either that or burn them. Mine too.”

“Thank you.” Tristan walked toward her. “Did you sleep at all?”

“An hour or two.” Jett leaned back on her stool until the table stopped her from easing away any further. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling like I don’t know what’s going on.” Tristan dropped the clothes on the floor next to Jett. She held her hands out at her sides, palms facing Jett. “I feel like one of those watches you’ve got there, with my insides scattered all over this apartment. I need you to put them back.”

Jett rose abruptly and pulled Tristan into her arms. She kissed her, one hand on the back of her head, her fingers laced through Tristan’s hair. She was trembling. So was Tristan.

“Tris,” Jett whispered, her mouth gliding down Tristan’s neck. Her skin was so soft, sweet and salty. She rested her forehead on the top of Tristan’s shoulder, watching Tristan’s nipples tighten as her breasts rose and fell rapidly. “I want you, but—”

Tristan groaned. “Please. You want casual, I’ll do casual. Just, please…please don’t tell me to go.”

“No!” Jett jerked her head up and cradled Tristan’s face. “No. No. Not ever. I can’t.”

“Then what?” Tristan cried. “You love her? Is that it?”

“No,” Jett exclaimed again. “Jesus. No. I’m in love with you.”

“Are you going back to…” Tristan flinched. “What did you just say?”

Jett took in the absolute confusion and disbelief on Tristan’s face, and she understood. She finally got it. Tristan didn’t expect to be loved.

She didn’t believe she’d ever be more than someone’s “friend with benefits,” a temporary diversion. Tristan was so wrong.

“I said,” Jett repeated softly, “I love you.”

“Oh fuck.” Tristan buried her face in Jett’s neck. After a second, Jett realized she was crying.

“Hey. Tris. Hey.” Jett led her to the sofa and pulled her down.

She fumbled for the thin blanket she kept folded up on the back for the nights when she slept there and draped it around Tristan’s shoulders.

“Just listen, okay.” She pulled Tristan into her arms and rubbed Tristan’s back through the light cotton covering.

“Listen.”

“I’m in room 1017,” Gail said. “Come up.”

Jett rode the elevator, not thinking about much of anything at all.

She’d never once been alone with Gail anywhere except on the military base. She couldn’t quite believe she was going to see her, here, now.

After all this time.

She walked down the hall and stood in front of the door, contemplating why she had come. Wondering if it was another mistake she would regret for a lifetime. Before she could knock, the door opened. Gail stood in the entrance in a light blue silk robe that came to mid thigh, tied loosely at her waist. Her hair was damp and tousled, the way it used to look just after she’d showered.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you,” Gail said.

“I should’ve called.” Jett backed up. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“No!” Gail hurriedly grasped Jett’s hand and pulled her into the room, then closed the door and locked it. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

“I almost didn’t.” Jett took several steps and stopped abruptly. She could see the bed now. The covers were turned down and the sheets were very crisp and very white. She felt awkward and out of place. She did not belong in this room with this woman like this.

Gail turned back when she realized Jett was no longer following.

She grasped Jett’s upper arms and ran her hands up and down them, as if afraid if she stopped touching her, Jett would disappear. She leaned into her and kissed her softly. “I’m sorry about what happened. About our misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding.”

“Yes.” Gail cupped Jett’s cheek. “You must know how terribly fond of you I am.”

Jett nodded. “I’m a lesbian, are you?”

Gail couldn’t have looked more surprised if Jett had slapped her.

“Of course not. I told you that.”

“Then why did you kiss me?”

“We’re friends. I’m glad to see you.”

“No. That night.”

“I didn’t.”

“All right. Then I apologize. Good night.” Jett turned and reached for the door. Gail might not be able to admit the truth, but Jett could.

Gail had wanted Jett to kiss her, and she’d kissed her back. But Gail had never loved her, and she…she had loved a dream.

“Jett!”

Jett didn’t turn around.

“I can’t risk my career.” Suddenly Gail was behind her with her arms around Jett’s waist. Her breasts were firm against Jett’s back as her hands roamed over the front of Jett’s body, caressing her breasts, her stomach, the length of her thighs. “But we could have these ten days. They could be our secret.”

“A secret.”

“Yes,” Gail said urgently, turning Jett to face her. Her robe was partially open, her breasts nearly exposed. She pressed against Jett, her arms around Jett’s neck. “God, I’ve dreamed about this.”

“I thought I frightened you. I thought I hurt you.” Jett caught Gail’s hands and stopped her from pulling her shirt from her pants. “I wanted you so much, and I thought I hurt you. I thought that’s why you left.”

“I couldn’t, not there. But here. Here.” Gail kissed Jett again, her breath coming fast. “No one ever needs to know.”

Jett gently pushed her away. “I would know.”

“Please, Jett,” Gail pleaded. “You need it. I know you do.”

“No, I don’t. Not like this.” Jett opened the door and left her sorrow where it belonged, in the past. “Good-bye, Gail.”

“I want to kill her for hurting you,” Tristan said when Jett finished telling her.

Jett lay back on the couch and pulled Tristan with her so they were side by side. She kissed Tristan softly. “It’s over. I’m okay—sad, maybe, but for her more than me. But thank you.”

Tristan, her expression solemn, traced a fingertip along the edge of Jett’s jaw. “Do you still love her?”

“I told you this morning. I love you. I never loved Gail—I never loved anyone—the way I love you.”

“But you said but earlier…if it’s not Gail, then what?”

Tristan’s voice held so much uncertainty and pain, Jett’s insides hurt. She didn’t want Tristan to doubt how special she was, but she was afraid of her own feelings. She shifted uneasily and pulled away. “It’s me, Tris. The way I am.”

Tristan gripped her harder. “Don’t. Don’t pull away from me. What do you mean, the way you are?”

“That night with Gail, I lost it,” Jett confessed. “I was kissing her, and then something snapped and I was just crazy out of my mind to have her. I thought that’s what drove her away. I’m like that with you, only worse. It’s like…I feel sometimes if I can’t get inside you, own you, make you want me that way, I’ll die.” Jett pressed her face into Tristan’s hair. “God, Tris, I can’t help it.”

“And you think I want that to change,” Tristan asked, her voice husky. “Don’t you know I want you to want me that much?” She straddled Jett’s thigh, her naked center against Jett’s leg. “Can you feel how hot I am? How wet I am? I’m soaking you, aren’t I?”

“Mmm, yeah. Now look who’s hard.” Jett gripped Tristan’s hips and pressed her leg harder between Tristan’s thighs. Tristan rapidly slid down the length of her thigh and back up, then moaned and did it again. “Keep that up and you’re going to come.”

“I want to.” Tristan threw her head back, gripping Jett’s wrists. She looked down, her eyes hazy, searching Jett’s face. “Can I?”

Jett eased one hand between Tristan’s legs and stroked her clitoris. “Say please.”

“Oh, Jesus, please.” Tristan rocked harder, rubbing herself on Jett’s hand. “Please, babe, please. Help me get off.”

“Why should I?” Jett countered, speeding up her hand action between Tristan’s legs.

“Because I need you,” Tristan cried.

“Why else?” Jett demanded.

“Because I love you.” Tristan ground into Jett, her eyes flickering between Jett’s face and Jett’s hand between her legs. “I love you. Oh God, babe, you’re going to make me come.”

“That’s all right, baby, that’s what I want.” Jett finally understood what she’d always needed. “Because I love you too.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

Jett couldn’t believe she’d actually fallen asleep and slept without dreaming. Judging by the slant of sunlight coming through the windows on the opposite side of the room, it was late morning, close to noon. She never slept that many hours in a row.

And she never slept without part of her mind being aware of her surroundings. Tristan was still curled up beside her, her head on Jett’s shoulder. Jett stroked her hair.

“Hey,” Tristan murmured, rubbing Jett’s stomach with her hand underneath Jett’s T-shirt. “You don’t move when you sleep.”