Magnetic (2 page)

The stranger nodded and grabbed a glass of champagne as a server went by. She handed it to Layne with a smile. “Yours is almost empty.”

“Thank…you?”

“Stacy, and you are?”

Layne watched as Stacy’s gaze swept over her, then met her eye with a look that said she’d found what she was searching for. It’d been a long time since Layne had been the recipient of a stare that revealed undisguised desire, and on this night, she welcomed it and would follow anywhere it led. “Chloe.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Stacy said as she put out her hand.

Layne took it and felt Stacy’s fingers close firmly around her hand, squeezing gently, the clasp lasting longer than the usual customary embrace. Stacy let her fingers slide down the back of Layne’s before she let her go. “So tell me where you’d rather be.”

Layne didn’t know who she was talking to and was hesitant to be blatantly honest with her answer. “It’s been a long week but a productive one. I’m just tired.”

Stacy smiled slightly as she sipped her drink. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You tell me where I’d rather be.”

“In front of a roaring fire tucked away in a cabin somewhere high in the mountains.”

“That’s good,” Layne said seductively, “but I think you can do better.” She smiled when one of Stacy’s brows arched for a millisecond.

“You have lovely eyes, such a deep blue they remind me of the water in the Caribbean. So obviously, my next answer would be a beach somewhere, maybe in a hammock sipping a rum-filled drink.”

Layne laughed. “Oh, that’s a line. Do you usually find success with it?”

Stacy shrugged. “Sometimes, it gets my foot in the door, so to speak.”

“Third time’s the charm, as they say. You have one more shot.” Layne lowered her voice to get that foot in the door. “So tell me where I’d rather be.”

Stacy moved in closer, her breath fell against Layne’s ear as she whispered, “Upstairs, with me.”

Chapter 2

“You disappeared last night,” Alana said accusingly as she sank down into the seat next to Layne. “If I didn’t know better, I’d assume you met a playmate of your own.”

“Was David looking for me?”

“Not that I noticed.” Alana watched as the flight attendant closed the door to the plane and sighed. “Get this can in the air. I need a bloody Mary stat. I should’ve boarded sooner, but I was pleasantly detained.” She looked back at Layne, then glared at the travel pillow around her neck. “Are you going to sleep the whole flight?”

“Yes, I am. As soon as I’m allowed, I’m going to recline this seat.”

“Good, lend me your iPod so I don’t have to listen to that whiny brat in coach.”

Layne reached into her bag and handed Alana the player. “Please tell me it wasn’t Corbin who detained you.”

“Okay, I won’t,” she said with a smile. “So where were you?”

Layne yawned. “In bed.” She closed her eyes, hoping to make it obvious that she had nothing else to discuss because she was still reeling from her own behavior the previous evening. She’d never had a one-night stand. Even in her briefest sexual encounters, she had at least known her lover’s last name, what she did for a living, and where she lived. All she knew of the woman she’d shared her body with the night before was her first name and that she had more energy than a nuclear bomb.

She began examining all the motivations for her rash conduct. Olivia had knocked her for a loop. Layne had known that the relationship was on the rocks. For the last couple of months, she’d been preparing herself for the conversation she knew they had to have. But Olivia had beaten her to it—and very impersonally. Layne thought after six years she deserved more than that, but the bottom line was, they had become very impersonal. Olivia had shown more passion than Layne had seen in years when they’d fought ridiculously over who had spilled wine on the living room rug and had stained it the day before Layne left for Detroit.

Passion had been lacking in their relationship for a long time, Layne surmised, but then if she were honest with herself, Olivia had never been passionate about her. Lovemaking, when it did occur, left Layne wanting, and early on, she’d expressed that and had been rebuffed. But Olivia was successful, a bright young attorney with a promising career ahead of her. They shared common goals, they’d both wanted the expensive apartment in the middle of the city, the clothes, and the cars, and had attained it all. And for that, Layne had made concessions.

She’d been raised by a working-class father and a stay-at-home mother. Her two older brothers along with her father waited at the table each night for Layne and her mother to serve them dinner. When Layne expressed anger at the inequality, her mother had explained that it was “the woman’s lot in life to serve the man.” Unlike Cynthia Stone, her only daughter refused to accept that line of thinking, and those words had pushed her to get an education without her parents’ assistance.

Those words had haunted her in every job she’d taken and motivated her to reach higher. They were a blessing and a curse. In her career, they had driven her to the top of the corporate ladder, but they had also made her materialistic, and she’d wasted six years with a woman who was as bad if not worse than she was. Layne had money and things, but she’d not found that one significant love that filled her most secret dreams.

During the previous evening, she’d poured every ounce of passion that had been pent up for six years into a complete stranger and was met with equal fervor. For a few hours, she felt desired and devoured; it felt good physically and mentally. Stacy would never know that she’d given Layne the strength to go home and not mourn something she never really had.

“…so I’ll be taking only what I know belongs to me,” Layne quoted Olivia snidely as she dropped her bags in the middle of the living room floor. They clanged loudly in the hollowness of the room. The furniture was gone, the walls bare except for the hooks where paintings they’d bought together had once hung. Layne’s books had been dumped onto the floor with no regard when the oak bookcase had been removed. The wine-stained rug had been rolled up and left behind;
that
did belong solely to Olivia.

Layne looked into the kitchen and noticed that the only thing left on the counter was the coffeemaker that she’d refused to part with, even though Olivia had bought one that she swore brewed the perfect cup of coffee. Layne smiled ruefully at the coffeemaker. It was the first top-of-the-line thing she’d ever purchased, and until it exploded or completely gave up the ghost, she’d always use it over anything newer. She turned and went down the hall to her office that had been completely untouched. Next to hers, Olivia’s was bare.

Layne inhaled deeply as she walked into the bedroom. The doors to her closet remained closed. Olivia’s was open and empty, and so was the room. The king-sized bed they’d bought together along with the bedside tables were gone. “Shit,” Layne said as she leaned against the doorjamb and closed her eyes. She heard footsteps coming up the hall behind her and didn’t flinch when a gentle hand rested on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

“I wasn’t robbed…by a stranger anyway, but I think you know that.” Layne turned slowly and looked at one of her best friends.

Jenny Wilkins regarded her sadly. “Olivia told Molly. I tried to get here before you did, but there was an accident on
Tchoupitoulas
, and I had to divert.”

“Olivia emailed me last night.” Layne looked back into her empty bedroom. “Judging by the looks of this place, she started moving before I ever walked onto the
jetway
of the plane last Wednesday.” Layne turned back to Jenny. “A fucking email that said we’re done. It was less than a paragraph.”

“I’m sorry,” Jenny said sincerely.

“Don’t be. Anyone that knew anything about us could see this coming.” Layne ran a hand through her hair. “The finality of it all is just a shock.”

Jenny licked her lips and looked past Layne’s shoulder at the empty room. “I know you’d rather be alone right now, but you don’t even have a bed or a sofa to sleep on. Come home with me. Molly and I will give you all the privacy you need.”

Weary of hotel rooms and unwilling to sleep on a hardwood floor, Layne had no choice but to accept.

*******

“So…what do we need to do now?” Jenny asked that evening as she, Layne, and Molly sat on the front porch of their house, sipping amaretto freezes after one of Molly’s home-cooked meals. “I can take the day off tomorrow and help you shop for a sofa and bed.”

Molly’s head popped up at the mention of shopping. “We can all go,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Layne couldn’t help but smile despite her circumstances. It was so good to see Molly bright-eyed again. Cancer, chemo, and radiation had ravaged her body the previous year, and Layne had wondered if the listlessness of Molly’s eyes would be all she could remember of one of her closest friends. But Molly was springing back. Her brows were growing in thick above her brown eyes, and her hair was beginning to grow so much that she’d stopped wearing the bandanna that Layne had gotten used to seeing.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Layne said as she glanced at Jenny. “The apartment lease is in Olivia’s name, and I don’t want to stay there. So before I buy furniture, I think I should find a place of my own.”

Layne watched as Jenny and Molly exchanged excited glances. “There’s a house that came up for rent three blocks from here.” Molly held up both hands. “Now I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s super cute. The yard is smaller than ours, and it’s mostly landscaped. You wouldn’t have to worry about mowing much. You could use our lawn service. I bet they wouldn’t charge much. And you’d be so close, we could have dinner more often.”

“No pressure,” Jenny said with a laugh.

Molly raised her right hand as if swearing an oath. “No, no pressure, but it does have a back deck that would be perfect for cookouts.”

“And how is it that you know so much about this place?” Layne asked.

Jenny shrugged. “We looked at it, but we don’t want to be bothered with trying to pack up all the shit we’ve accumulated over the past five years.”

Layne nodded at the excuse, knowing that it was more about money than Jenny’s and Molly’s propensity to be pack rats. They’d quickly exhausted their savings trying to keep up with Molly’s health care bills. The last year had been financially devastating due to debt and the fact that Molly had a hard time mustering the strength to work as a nurse.

Jenny had done everything she could to bolster her client load at the accounting firm she owned and had worked herself nearly to death, refusing any help from Layne and their other close friend Ronnie. But Layne and Ronnie intervened when it appeared that Jenny had lost as much weight as Molly had. After a bitter confrontation, Jenny relented and allowed them to help with some of the bills.

The burden was finally easing, and Jenny looked more relaxed, even though she was still gaunt from stress and being overworked.

Layne admired her. Jenny had been the one to put her foot down and force Molly to resign from the hospital. Despite the burden of the household bills resting on her shoulders, she was always loving and supportive of her partner, accommodating her every need. Neither Layne nor anyone else doubted that Jenny and Molly were truly in love. When times got tough, they grew tougher and faced everything together without complaint. Layne wished she could find a love like that because if she ever did, she’d never let go.

Jenny pulled off her baseball cap and ran a hand through her platinum blond hair. Tall and thin with fair skin and blue eyes, she was in complete contrast to her petite partner, who carried a little extra weight before getting sick. Molly’s skin had always been deep olive, a product of her Cajun heritage. Side by side, Molly and Jenny were polar opposites in looks, but on the inside, they shared the same heart.

“I assume you have the phone number of the person who’s renting it,” Layne said.