She turned and started back to the center of town. On impulse, she deviated down the board sidewalk to the Piper Bar. Midweek, off-season, the place was fairly deserted. A few locals sat at the bar, several couples swayed on the dance floor adjoining the rear deck, and a few others occupied tables around the edge of the room. One bartender worked the bar. Flynn slid onto a stool and waited.

“Help you?” A redhead in a tight black T-shirt with a sequined peacock over her breasts slapped a cocktail napkin in front of Flynn.

“A beer. Whatever dark you’ve got on draft.”

“Sure thing.”

The redhead turned away, and Flynn studied the napkin, remembering the last time she’d been here. She’d had a date with Allie. Their first date. They’d danced and walked home hand in hand. They’d kissed on her sofa, and the kisses had led to more. But Allie had stopped her when she might not have stopped herself, and that was unusual for her. She wasn’t a go-all-the-way-on-the-first-date sort of person. But Allie had made it easy to forget who she was. Allie made it easy to forget a lot of things.

“Here you go. Three fifty.” The bartender set a glass in the center of the white napkin, and a dark ring spread out around its base from water dripping down the sides of the glass. Flynn extracted a five from her wallet. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks, hon.” The bartender hesitated. “What’s your name?”

“Flynn.”

“I’m Marylou. You’re new in town.”

“Been here almost a month,” Flynn said.

“Planning to stay?”

“Yes.” Until she’d had the question put to her, Flynn had never actually considered her answer. But she was staying. Not because she had nowhere else to go, although her choices were somewhat limited. But this town beckoned to her. She felt at home here.

“Good to hear. I’ll see you around, then.”

“You will.” Flynn pulled at her beer and watched the activity behind her reflected in the mirror over the bar. A door on the far side of the dance floor opened, and someone came through carrying a cardboard box of liquor. Flynn narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t imagining things. Mica crossed to the bar and carried the box around behind it.

“Hey, Marylou,” Mica said, “you want me to bring up a case of the Captain next? It looks like you’re low.”

“Why don’t you just grab a couple of bottles,” Marylou said as she pulled up a draft.

“Okay.”

Mica set the box on the bar and started to stack the bottles into racks underneath. She worked quickly, as if she’d done the job before. Tory King had been right. Even in the dim, red-tinged light from the neon brewery signs hanging along the bar, the bruise around her left eye was apparent. She had the beginnings of a shiner that was probably going to be pretty dramatic in the morning.

Flynn slid down several bar stools, dragging her beer with her, until she was opposite Mica. “I would’ve thought you’d be too sore to work tonight.”

Mica jumped, her eyes darting rapidly to Flynn before all expression fled her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We met early this morning.” Flynn lowered her voice. “When you had that accident on your bicycle.”

“Yeah,” Mica said, “I know who you are. Like I said then, I’m fine.”

“Okay. I’m glad.”

“I’ll bet.” Mica pulled the empty cardboard box off the bar and turned away, threading her way down to the opposite end, where she rapidly pushed her way through a door leading to the alley outside.

Flynn debated going after her and then decided whatever the reasons Mica had left the clinic, whatever demons chased her, were none of her business. She drained her beer and set it carefully onto the cocktail napkin.

“Buy you another?” Allie settled onto the stool next to Flynn. She wasn’t in uniform now, and she looked young and fresh in a scooped-neck long-sleeved tee, hip-hugger jeans, and low-heeled boots. Her raven hair was loose around her shoulders.

“Hey,” Flynn said, looking past Allie around the room. She didn’t see Ash Walker anywhere. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good. What about you?”

“I’m good too. Shoulder okay?”

“It gets stiff now and then, but it’s healed up.”

“Good.”

“So, how are we doing?”

Flynn smiled. “I think we’re doing okay. How are things with Ash?”

Allie smiled, the kind of smile a woman in love smiles. “You know we had a past, right? Before I went out with you.”

“Yeah, I figured that from some of the things Ash told me. And—well, the way you looked at her. You couldn’t see anyone else.”

Allie blushed, a rare sight. “Jeez—uncool of me. Okay, well, I’m sorry about the way things turned out with us—”

“No, there’s nothing to be sorry for. We had a couple of really terrific dates. And I’m really glad for you.”

“You’re really scary nice, you know?”

“No, I’m not, but I can still be happy for you.”

“Someday you’ll have to tell me why you think you don’t deserve it too.”

Flynn frowned. “Deserve what?”

“Happiness.”

Chapter Six

Reese leaned on her elbow, slowly stroking Tory’s abdomen. Tory’s face glowed in the muted light, a softness about her eyes that pulled at Reese’s heart. “You look beautiful right now. How do you feel?”

Tory turned on her side, keeping her hips slightly elevated on the pillow underneath her lower back, and kissed Reese. “I feel wonderful. How are you?”

“Sort of”—Reese lightly kissed Tory’s breast above her heart and took a deep breath—“in awe, I guess. I like doing it this way, better than in the office.” She rested her cheek between Tory’s breasts and wrapped her arm around Tory’s middle, melding the lengths of their bodies. “When I think about Reggie, and what a miracle she is, and that you did that—you created her for us.” Reese’s throat closed and she shut her eyes tightly, the surge of wonder warring with the rush of terror that always came over her when she thought about how precious Tory and Reggie were.

Tory’s fingers came into her hair, gently stroking the back of her neck. “You know, none of this would be possible without you. You create the certainty in my life, the safety in our home, the promise of our future. You give me the strength to take this all on. I couldn’t do this without you.”

“I love you,” Reese whispered.

“Oh, darling, I love you too.” Tory nestled closer, grasping Reese’s free hand and guiding it over her abdomen and between her legs. “Remember the part about giving the swimmers a helping hand?”

Reese’s hips tightened and heat kindled in her belly. She raised her head and found herself in Tory’s eyes. “Oh, I remember.” Watching Tory’s face, she slowly stroked over the delicate folds and lightly caressed her clitoris.

“Mmm, that’s good. You’re so good.” Tory wrapped her arm around Reese’s shoulders and raised her hips further. Breathing more quickly, she pressed her hand over Reese’s, guiding her fingers to the sensitive spot that always made her come. “As much as I love it when you tease me, I don’t want to wait.”

“You feel so soft, so warm,” Reese murmured, continuing to tease, refusing to speed up and stroke harder where she knew Tory needed her. “Sure you can’t wait?”

Tory nipped at Reese’s chin. “Damn you. You know what I need. Right now.” She skimmed down Reese’s back and kneaded her ass. “I want you to come with me.”

“Do you.” Reese slid her legs over Tory’s, pressing her center to Tory’s smooth, firm thigh. She was throbbing, aching, her clitoris pulsating urgently. She almost always came when Tory did—she couldn’t hold on when Tory was so totally hers. “I’m yours, you know. You’ll make me come with you.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Do it now. God, I love you.”

Tory buried her face in the curve of Reese’s shoulder as her hips rose and fell to the perfect cadence of Reese’s strokes. “Now, you’re making me come now. God. So good.”

Reese tightened her grip and held Tory close, never letting up as Tory’s hips bucked and she cried out, a breathtaking peal of joy and fulfillment. Shuddering on the edge, Reese struggled to keep her eyes open, wanting to see every second, wanting nothing in her mind, in her body, in her soul except Tory and the promise of life to come.

*

Mica ripped the cardboard box apart, flattened it with her foot, and stacked it with the others next to the Dumpster in the alley. Ten thirty. She still had another half hour to work. Maybe when she went back inside, Flynn would be gone. She didn’t want to see her questioning eyes or hear her soft, too-understanding voice. The quiet tenderness in her tone was too hard to ignore. Yeah, right—and too damn misleading. Mica grabbed another box and pulled it apart. Flynn had no reason to care about how she was feeling—even though it was a different kind of come-on than the girls who had tried to pick her up usually used. Pretty freakin’ effective too. Maybe if they’d pretended to pay a little more attention to her, had looked at her like Flynn did—like she was really there—and spent less time being worried about how sexy they were, she might have tumbled to one of their invitations. She was glad she hadn’t. She’d made enough mistakes getting hooked up with Hector, but what choice had she had back then, anyhow? Just sixteen, needing to fit in, needing some protection from the men and boys in the neighborhood who were eyeing her like prime territory to be claimed, needing the support of the girls who were so different from her but the only friends she had. And later she had family to think of—family to protect. She had to join the 13, and the way to join was by hooking up with a guy. Lucky for her, Hector had claimed her right away, and she hadn’t had to be passed around from guy to guy the way a lot of the new girls were. Lucky for her too that Hector had other women, had kids with other women, and he hadn’t pushed her to have one for him. Lucky, yeah right. That was her—lucky, all right. The weight of Hector’s body pressing down on her, smothering her, drove her breath from her chest and she gasped. The relentless choking pressure of him driving into her throat made her gag. Her head spun, and she grabbed the side of the metal bin for support. Not now, God, not now. Her heart galloped and spots danced before her eyes, even in the dark.