“I’m heading out. I can see you are too. We can walk out together. Safety in numbers,” Bree offered. That fell into the definition of normal colleague interaction.
While Tess hesitated, Bree waited, and then Marnie arrived with her cleaning cart and supplies. Bree had chatted with the gregarious Marnie on previous encounters in her own office space. She was an attractive woman and Tess might be oblivious, but Bree noticed how she looked at Tess.
“Good evening. How are those cats of yours, Judge Fairchild?” Marnie asked before shifting her attention to Breefor a moment. “The judge and I are cat fanciers.” Then she grabbed the trash can and shook her head as she examined the contents. “I hope you had more than this yogurt today.” She emptied the bin. “The judge works too hard.” After looking back at Bree again, she added, “And she needs someone to keep her fed.”
“Thelma and Louise are undoubtedly waiting for me. And I’m not the only one working hard around here. It takes all of us.” Tess ignored the reference to her eating habits and nodded at Marnie.
“Speaking of working hard, it’s time for my break. I’m off to the lounge.” Marnie paused before addressing Tess again. “I’m whipping up enchiladas for dinner tomorrow night. I’m making extras for Mel, and I’ll plan to bring you some.” She turned to go and waved.
Bree realized that the red-lidded tub Tess had been collecting out of the lounge refrigerator on their first courthouse encounter had likely been courtesy of Marnie too. Marnie was just being friendly, wasn’t she? This all wasn’t an indication that Marnie would like to be the one keeping Tess fed—and other things—was it? And her knowing about Thelma and Louise—she’d obviously made inroads in loosening Tess up.
Bree watched Marnie head on out toward the lounge, which was at the other end of the hallway from the judges’ chambers. She gave Tess a look that she hoped would encourage her to finish packing up so they could walk together to the parking lot. As she waited, she broke the silence. “So how was your day?” Bree asked.
“Fine.”
“So is Marnie plying you with her cooking?” Bree inserted some tease into her tone.
“We should all be so lucky to have someone who’s as good a cook as she is, but she’s probably negating those yogurt lunchesI try to stick to.”
“You’re right. I’d never turn down a personal chef.” Bree offered a chuckle as she stood there and looked at Tess. Even at the end of a long day, Tess was so appealing. “Boy, we could probably take a prize for two people who couldn’t complicate their lives much worse. A real pickle of a situation. In Tahoe, I never could have imaged that I’d be trying to figure out the boundaries of a possible workplace relationship in addition to trying to guarantee my success at a new life and a new job and a new home.”
“Don’t forget to throw in the potential added complications of being a presiding judge becoming involved with one of the other courthouse judges.” Tess shook her head and offered Bree an exaggerated eye roll. “That prize—a big, old pickle trophy.” They both laughed.
“What we’ve both said is true, and while I have no right to tell you, I’m going to admit that I want to kiss you right now.” Bree couldn’t help herself. She was tired. She was stressed. And she wanted to take Tess into her arms.
Tess’s eyebrows rose and she locked those hazel eyes with Bree’s. She silently held that connection, and then her eyes darkened before she spoke. “Then don’ttellme.” Tess’s tongue licked her full, soft lower lip and she stepped forward. She stopped a foot in front of Bree and didn’t move. Tess’s delivery came across as an uncharacteristic growl of frustration and arousal. So frigging hot.
Bree had no idea what the correct response was. Her thoughts were a jumble. She didn’t want to make this any harder on either of them…she needed to walk away…she wanted to kiss the living daylights out of Tess…
As Bree stood there considering, it was Tess who chose the answer by stepping into Bree’s space and pulling her close. Bree couldn’t stop herself from emitting a soft moan and couldn’tprevent pushing back against Tess’s front. She didn’t resist when Tess reached behind her head, freed her hair from its French twist, and slid her fingers through it.
Then Tess placed her hands against Bree’s cheeks with her thumbs under Bree’s jawline, staging Bree’s mouth so close to her own that they shared the air between them, the air of comingled, denied desire.
Bree saw that Tess’s eyes were closed, and she lowered her own lids so she could better savor this moment—the touch, the sound, the emotions—as Tess closed the remainder of the distance. She let her lips barely brush against Tess’s before Tess covered Bree’s mouth with hers, tentatively at first. She tasted so good. Tess added her tongue to the kiss, and Bree opened up to allow her entry. Bree remembered how well they fit together in this mouth-to-mouth dance. There was no leaving that at Tahoe.
She responded and skimmed Tess’s teeth, and then their tongues did that waltz of mutual exploration as they shared the lead, the giving and the taking. It was a laying down of arms, an escalation of desire, a sharing of need that had nothing to do with the reality of the situation they lived in.
Bree let Tess have the moment, let herself have it too. She wanted to stay there forever, escalate it to something that should go on behind closed doors, and that was the wake-up call.
It had happened so fast they hadn’t even shut the office door, but if they’d started to, that might have been the jolt she would have needed to stop the kiss. What would be the repercussions if they’d been observed? What if they’d shut the door and done more than kiss? And now there was this added encounter between them that would only make tomorrow harder. Bree pulled back.
Tess studied her with a questioning look, and probably embarrassment. Certainly not the standard congenial mask she’d perfected that served her so well in maintaining pleasant—cordial—but distancing associations, her default level of interaction that was completely acceptable if you didn’t want to let anyone get too close. If you didn’t want to suffer any more wounds in your life. Wounds like Bree couldn’t seem to stop herself from inflicting.
“It was perfect, Tess. But there are so many considerations, repercussions that could hurt both of us. We’re getting way ahead of ourselves.”
“I know.” Tess nodded. She touched her lips with her index finger. That spark in her eyes had given way to sadness. “Well, at least we didn’t fuck again.”
Not exactly cordial, and certainly beyond their friendly label too, but that was exactly what Bree would like to do with Tess at this moment. That couldn’t happen. Bree realized her own eyes were moist, and she turned away, wiping them with her sleeve. Damn it all. Then she turned back but didn’t have a clue what to say.
“You go first. Leave. Bernard can escort me out, like he usually does.” Tess focused back on her satchel. “I’m sorry I let this happen.”
Bree decided she needed to honor Tess’s wishes and headed for the door, but not before she admitted, “I’m not.” She’d been all in. Conflict roiled through Bree—she suddenly realized that she didn’t want to slam the door and lock out any chance at a future either.
Bree didn’t feel like cooking after the encounter with Tess, so she pulled into Maria’s Café and picked up a salad to go. As she returned to her Mazda in the low light of the parking lot, she noticed someone leaning against the back door of her car, asolidly built man who was several inches taller than she was. He wore a jacket with a hood pulled over his baseball cap. The cap’s bill obliterated his upper facial features, and the cinched hood covered his neck and jawline. From what little she could see, Bree was fairly certain she didn’t recognize him as someone she knew. She felt her heart hammering as she went on full alert.
“Good evening.” The voice was distinctive. Deep and raspy with a hint of a Southern accent.
Bree’s heart rate escalated further. “Do I know you?”
