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“I’m not whining,” she countered, this time hearing the high pitch of her tone before clearing her throat and trying again. “I’m just saying we’re consenting adults. Why can’t we make out by the pool?”
Carmela rolled her eyes, but Rhiannon’s attention was glued to her smirking lips. “This deal is so important to both of us, and it’s already complicated enough to be working it together. It’s a lot of money, and we’re just at the beginning of the deal plus getting to know each other. There’s still a lot that could happen. When the listing contract is up in six months, Yeardsley could decide to give another agent a try and we’re on the hook for everything we’ve invested in trying to get it sold. I’ve seen agents in long-term partnerships sue each other over that kind of thing. We can’t put the extra strain on ourselves of . . . more involvement.”
Rhiannon listened patiently until she decided she was most definitely annoyed. “So why did you come out here and seduce me then?”
This time she heard the whining in her tone but was powerless to change it. She’d been unceremoniously shoved out of a hot make-out session and into a strange place of embarrassment and confusion.
Instead of matching her reaction and countering with something sassy, Carmela put her hand over hers and gave it a squeeze while her eyes filled with regret. “I shouldn’t have,” she admitted, her eyes averted toward the pool. “It was selfish and impulsive.”
The response was disarming, and Rhiannon struggled for a response. One didn’t materialize.
“I guess when I found you here by the pool, I lost myself to myopic desire,” she continued. “I’m not one to act on impulse, and I shouldn’t have lost sight of the reality of our situation.”
“Damn. . . do you have to sound like an HR lady?”
Rhiannon countered, her ego still bruised.
Carmela chuckled. “Does that mean you forgive my very unprofessional behavior?”
“I don’t know . . . what happens if we sell the house tomorrow? Would you go on a date with me?”
Carmela raised an eyebrow. “That’s a loaded question and I left my crystal ball in my other bag. Come on, let’s get going. It’s late.”
A few minutes later, they were locking up and driving away in their respective cars. Rhiannon still had no idea what to think as she drove home in a daze. She agreed about not wanting to risk their business deal, but why had Carmela shut her down for the future too? The questions mounted until Rhiannon got home and collapsed on the couch. Her lips still tingling.
AS SOON AS Carmela got home, she peeled o her uncomfortable gold dress and bolted for the shower. All she wanted to do was clean o her makeup and wash the product out of her hair. As if that could do anything to erase the shame following her like an acrid stench.
How could you be so stupid?
Carmela gritted her teeth as hot water burned her skin. It could never be hot enough. She wasn’t sure what was worse: jeopardizing the deal, disrespecting a client’s home, or making an absolute fool of herself. They were all tied for first place.
Once she was clean, Carmela wrapped a towel around her body and launched herself under the covers. If only she could hide there for the rest of her days.
Every time she thought about Rhiannon and that misguided, albeit super-hot, kiss, she wanted to move and join the witness protection program. After nursing one Mojito all night, she couldn’t even blame it on the booze.
You’re almost forty . . . where is your self-control? Since when do you act like a horny teenager? You didn’t pounce on anyone even when you were a teenager!
The questions posed made her queasy. How could she ever look at the girl again? It was going to be impossible.
Why did I do that? she asked herself over and over again but had no good answer other than she wanted to and every interaction leading up to the kiss had felt like a sort of strange antagonistic foreplay.
Carmela tossed and turned in bed as she weighed the options. She refused to give up her part of the deal. She was already too invested. Asking Rhiannon to step back was gross and unacceptable. They were stuck together until they either sold the house or the listing agreement expired.
Reaching over to her nightstand, Carmela emptied the bottle of antacids into her mouth. She had no acceptable alternative other than continuing to work with Rhiannon while being courteous but setting professional boundaries.
As sleep started to claim her, Carmela had nearly convinced herself that they could continue as if nothing ever happened. Then she remembered her nascent feelings and painful attraction to the girl who hadn’t stopped driving her crazy in new and more complicated ways.
I’m screwed, she thought before suddenly remembering the heat of Rhiannon’s kiss and the eagerness of her desire.
And not in the good way.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE MORNING AFTER THE PARTY, Carmela awoke with the sun.
After a fitful night of barely sleeping while she vacillated between regret that she’d kissed Rhiannon and regret that she hadn’t kissed her more, Carmela was eager to get up and out of the house. The email she’d received from her ex’s event planner about her response to the wedding invite she’d ignored hadn’t helped her anxiety.
A meeting with some old clients looking for a bit of farmland on the western edge of the county was exactly what she needed. Pickup trucks in Loxahatchee would be a nice break from Bentleys and Palm Beach.
