her pulse wasn't out of fear, she realized.

"Feel what?" she breathed.

"This. Feel this," Carrie whispered as she leaned closer.

Jill knew what was happening but she still couldn't stop it. Her eyes slipped closed when

she felt Carrie's lips brush across her own. She gasped at the contact then moaned as

Carrie's mouth returned. Her own lips parted, moving with Carrie's as the kiss deepened.

Warning bells clamored to be heard and it was only the sound of her ragged breathing that

brought her to her senses.

She pulled away abruptly, her eyes wide as her fingers touched her lips where Carrie's

mouth had been.

"Oh my God," she whispered. She shook her head, finally standing, backing away. An

immediate look of regret crossed Carrie's face.

"Jill, God, I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I just... I misread you, I guess. I

misread all of this," she said as she stood, walking closer.

Jill shook her head and moved farther away. Misread her?

"Your friendship means more to me than anything, Jill. Please, I'm so sorry. I'm just an

idiot."

Jill backed up then headed quickly to the door, her eyes still wide. "I've got to go," she

whispered.

"No, please don't go. I am so, so sorry. Please..."

Jill opened the door then stopped, turning around to face Carrie. Their eyes held and Jill

could no longer deny what was so blatantly obvious. They'd been innocently touching for

weeks.

"Yes," she whispered.

Carrie frowned. "Yes what?"

"Yes, I feel it too," Jill said quickly before she fled from the cottage.

I won't see her again.

But the thought brought pain akin to a physical blow. She wrapped both arms around

herself and put the swing in motion. How could she not see her? Her body hadn't felt so

alive in years—and all from the briefest of kisses from another woman.

A woman.

She closed her eyes. A woman. But not just any woman. Carrie. Carrie, who had become her

closest friend, her confidant, her escape. Carrie, who had begun to creep into her thoughts

when she shouldn't have.

How could she not see her?

And the kiss? What about the kiss?

Jill felt the unfamiliar fluttering of her heart at just the thought of them kissing. A tiny

kiss but a kiss nonetheless. But what did it mean?

She closed her eyes again. You know what it means. You know exactly what it means.

Yes, she knew what it meant, she wasn't that naive. And if she saw her again, what? Would

Carrie continue to apologize? Would they blow it off as temporary insanity? Or would they

talk about it, discuss it, analyze it?

Or would they simply pretend it never happened?

No. How could they? The attraction that Jill was trying to hide from—run from—was

staring her right in the face. An attraction she didn't know what to do with, an attraction

that had been teetering on the edge of physical, of sexual, for weeks now.

Refusing to acknowledge it wasn't going to make it go away. But accepting it wasn't

something Jill thought she was prepared to do.

Because if she accepted it, her life would never be the same.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

On days like today, Jill was happy to have an assistant. Work she normally did herself, work

she could do in her sleep, was but a jumbled mess. She couldn't concentrate on anything,

much less numbers. So, she lied. On the pretense of working on their new radio ad, she

shoved the week's receivables off on Harriet. The initial guilt she felt disappeared quickly

as Harriet's eyes brightened at the prospect of doing something other than the mundane

chores of an office assistant.

So, with her door closed, Jill pulled up the radio ad, not bothering to read through the

thirty-second spot. It was just scrambled words on the page, much like the numbers had

been.

She couldn't get her mind focused on anything.

Anything but Carrie, that is.

And she had no idea what she was going to do. She didn't know what to do with Craig, her

marriage, and she certainly didn't know what to do about Carrie, about her feelings for the

other woman.

She spun her chair around, staring out the window, watching the light rain splatter against

the glass. Last night, after Craig's halfhearted attempt to make love was met with

resistance, he'd wanted to talk about it. It had finally dawned on him that it had been

months since they'd touched. She couldn't deal with his questions and she almost gave in

and had sex with him, but in the end, she couldn't.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on or what?"

"There's nothing going on, Craig."

"So if it's not another man, what? You just all of a sudden decided you don't want to have

sex with me?"

She got out of bed and paced slowly across the room. "Not all of a sudden," she said.

"You're hardly ever home, Craig. And when you are home, you're on your cell." She held her

hands out and shrugged. "It's like I'm invisible."

"What are you talking about? You're not invisible."

"I feel invisible. I do your laundry, I cook your meals, I keep your house. Same with Angie.

I feel like your maid service."

"Oh, now you're talking crazy. I don't treat you like my maid. But babe, coaching takes a lot

of time. You know that."

"Yes, I know that, Craig. But I feel like we're nearly strangers. So forgive me if I don't

get all excited about having sex with you."

She sighed. His answer to that was to childishly stomp into the spare room to sleep, leaving

her alone for the rest of the night, alone with her thoughts. And she finally went to sleep

after coming to the conclusion that she would not see Carrie anymore. She didn't think her

marriage could survive it if she did.

But in the light of day, when she woke up alone, the only thing on her mind was Carrie. Not

her marriage, not her husband. Just Carrie and the brief kiss they'd shared.

And now, as she watched the rain, she had no earthly idea what she was going to do.

At ten minutes to one, as she paced nervously back and forth in the office—still trying to

decide if she was going to see Carrie or not, and if she did, wondering what in the world

she was going to say to her—her cell rang. She actually trembled when she saw the name

displayed and she held the phone to her chest for a few seconds before answering.

Quiet breathing was all she heard, then a subtle clearing of the throat.

"Please come to lunch."

As she gripped the phone tightly, eyes squeezed shut, she nodded. "Yes," she said quietly.

"I'm sorry, Jill. I don't know what else to say."

It was Jill's turn to pause and she opened her eyes, feeling comforted for the first time

that day by the quiet rain that fell. "It's raining," she murmured.

"Yes."

"Do you think I bring the rain?" Jill closed her eyes again. She could picture Carrie's face,

could see the smile that tugged at her lips.

"I love the rain, Jill."

Jill nodded. "I'll see you in a bit."

And a few minutes later, when she saw Harriet pull into her parking space, Jill sprinted out

the door with only a wave in Harriet's direction. She didn't think about what was going to

happen at lunch, she didn't think about what they were going to say to one another. It

didn't matter. She only knew she had to see Carrie, had to be with her. The pull was too

strong.

But that didn't stop the nervousness she felt as she stood out in the rain, hesitating

before going to the door. As she walked around the back, she saw her, standing in the

sunroom, the door to the cottage open, inviting. Their eyes collided, the glass windows

doing nothing to curb the intensity of their glance.

She finally brushed at the water droplets running down her face and realized she was

getting soaked. She moved, walking to the door, pausing again before opening it.

Carrie stayed where she was, her eyes never leaving Jill's.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I never—"

"Please don't say you're sorry again," Jill said. She walked closer then stopped. She looked

away for a moment, then back to Carrie. "When... when's the last time you slept with your

husband?" she asked quietly.

Carrie looked startled by the question.

"When?" Jill whispered.

"It's been a long time."

"When?" Jill asked again.

"Probably... I don't know, December maybe. Before Christmas."

Jill closed her eyes, nodding. "I've... I've not had sex with Craig since I met you." She

opened her eyes again, finding Carrie there.

"Why do you think that is?" Carrie asked.

"We know why. Don't we?"

Carrie nodded. "Yes, we know."

"But Carrie, I'm not—"

"I know."

"Then why do I want you to kiss me again? I mean, I know all of the reasons why we

shouldn't. That doesn't change anything though, does it? I still want you to kiss me."

Carrie hesitated then smiled. "You're soaking wet. Let me get you a towel."

Jill grabbed her arm as Carrie turned. "You want to just avoid it? You kiss me then you