Emory trembled in Jazz’s arms, her insides as raw as her sensitive flesh, but for the first time in her life, she was comfortable in her body and satisfied in her mind that there were no more secrets. “Thank you for this.”

  “For?”

  “Everything since Friday night. Just thank you.” She snuggled into Jazz’s chest, and neither spoke again until the water turned tepid and eventually chilly.

  “Come to brunch with me,” Jazz said.

  “Great. I’m starving. Give me ten minutes to get dressed.”

  Jazz laughed as she rose and pulled Emory to her feet, wrapping her in a thick towel. “In femme speak that’s thirty minutes, right?”

  “Possibly. Depends on where we’re going and how dressed I have to be.”

  “Just my house.” Jazz dried her hair as casually as if she’d suggested IHOP.

  “What?” Emory shook her head. “No, no, no, no, no.”

  “It’s only my family. You already know everybody, and they like you.”

  “Absolutely not.” She shook her head harder. Jazz had to see what a bad idea this was.

  Jazz tucked a towel around her waist, looking as comfortable naked as she did half-dressed or completely clothed. She placed her hands lightly on Emory’s shoulders as if their full weight would scare her even more. “You might as well. I’ve already told them we’re dating.”

  Emory’s mouth fell open. “You what? When?”

  “Brunch last Sunday. The secret is out, and I assume you haven’t gotten any threatening phone calls or been stalked by the family.”

  Emory kept shaking her head, words failing.

  “Em, it’s time.”

  “No, it’s not time. Not even close to time. I’m so not ready for this.” Jazz pulled Emory into a hug, and she tried to keep her body from trembling, this time with fear instead of desire.

  “When will you be ready?”

  “For starters, when I haven’t had sex with you for two days and don’t have your scent in me and on me everywhere. When I can walk into a room without feeling pigeon-toed from having you between my legs for hours. Maybe when my breasts don’t sting from the lace of my bra because you’ve sucked them raw. Or maybe when I stop wanting you every time I look at you.” Jazz grinned wider the more Emory talked. “It’s not funny.”

  “So, let me get this straight. You’re afraid my family will know I’ve had sex?”

  “I’m worried they’ll know you’ve had sex with me, and they’ll disapprove.”

  Jazz shook her head. “I’m still not following.”

  “I respect your family, but the truth is, they probably won’t consider us a good match. I’m too old for you. I’m a social worker, and you were adopted. Plus, I can’t have children, and your family is big on children.”

  “If the past two days are any indication, I’m the one who’ll have trouble keeping up.”

  Emory tried to smother a smile and play-slapped Jazz’s arm. “Don’t distract me.”

  “As for the career stuff, who better to understand and appreciate an adoptee than someone who works with them every day? And don’t worry about children. My family will love any child we love.”

  Emory adored that Jazz wanted to take her to the sacred Carlyle family brunch and shot down all her objections to make her feel better. “You’re almost too good to be true, darling.” She circled back to the fact that Jazz had told her family they were dating. “What did they say…when you told them we were going out?”

  “Nothing, which I took as a really good sign.”

  “Or total shock and disbelief, which would be a really bad sign.”

  “You worry too much.” Jazz kissed her again, and Emory’s legs weakened.

  “Stop that or we’ll be late.”

  “Does that mean you’ll come with me?”

  Emory gave her a hard stare but softened at Jazz’s smile. “Every. Single. Time.” Emory squeezed Jazz’s sex before spinning out of her arms and grabbing the hairdryer. “Now go so I can get ready. I need to look presentable not freshly fucked.”

  While Emory dressed, Jazz paced her small living space and called the station to check on Shea’s case again, but got no good news. She’d also called G-ma to make sure it was okay to bring a guest, deciding not to share who in case Emory changed her mind. When Emory walked out of the bedroom, Jazz stopped and stared, her mouth dried, and the rest of her sweated and grew wet from wanting.

  “Do I look okay?” She glanced at the outfit she’d chosen and swiped a nervous hand down her skirt. “I could change again. This is only number seven or maybe eight. I’m sure I have something more—”

  “You’re absolutely breathtaking. Possibly a tad overdressed. Family brunch is more a sweatshirt and jeans affair, often followed by tag football or baseball.”

  “I’ll change again. Don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”

  “Lose the skirt and sweater and add jeans and a T-shirt.”

  Emory returned a few minutes later, gave a tentative smile, and pushed at a lock of loose hair at her temple. “Better?”

  “Perfect. Somehow you manage to make casual look dressy. And I love your hair in a French braid with stray bits hanging around your face.”

  “Very succinctly stated, darling.” Emory grinned up at her, stood on her tiptoes, and said, “Kiss me. Lightly. Mind the lipstick.”

  Jazz tried to comply, but when their lips met, she couldn’t stop the urge to grab Emory and pull her against her. “I want you so hard right now.”

  Emory kissed her as urgently but finally backed away. “Great, now we both smell like we’re in heat…again.”

  “I would say serves you right for making me jerk off in the shower, but it was worth every second of the pain. Besides, I like the smell of you in heat.” She offered her arm to Emory and ushered her to the car.

  “Are you sure it’s okay if I just show up?” Emory asked on the short drive.

  “I checked with G-ma to make sure there was room, and she said—”

  “There’s always room for one more at our table,” Emory finished for her.

  “Exactly.” She took Emory’s hand and brought it to rest on her thigh. “Please relax and be the woman they already know and really like.”

  “I’ll try.”

  * * *

  When Jazz pulled up to the Carlyle home, Emory saw Simon’s twins playing with Dylan on the wide porch. She and Jazz approached, and Ryan yelled through the screen door before disappearing inside with his sister, “Jazz is here with a hottie. Can we eat now?”

  Jazz grinned at her with an I-told-you-so look. “Even a twelve-year-old boy can see how gorgeous you are.” She wiggled her brows suggestively. “Let’s go straight up to my room.”

  “Stop it.” Emory wasn’t sure if she blushed from the child’s comment or Jazz’s but suspected a little of both. “And behave yourself. Here comes your little sister.”

  Dylan sprinted down the steps and pulled Emory into a hug. “It’s good to see you outside of the hospital. You look fantastic, almost glowing.” She glanced at Jazz. “What have you two been up to this morning?”

  “Dylan,” Jazz said in a warning tone.

  Emory was certain Dylan could see we’ve just had sex written all over her face. “Thank you, Dylan. It’s nice to see you when one of us isn’t rushing down the hallway to some emergency. How’s residency?”

  “Almost finished. I’m looking for a job, but enough about me. I want to hear how you and Jazz connected. Details.” She looped her arm through Emory’s and led her up the steps.

  “Dylan, you promised to behave.” Jazz trailed behind, her voice almost pleading.

  “Those words never crossed my lips, but I will allow Emory to wait and answer at brunch, otherwise she’ll be repeating herself all day.” She kissed Emory’s cheek and added, “Besides, if you’re going to be part of this family, you’d better get used to sharing everything. The Carlyles aren’t good at keeping secrets from each—”

  “But I—” Emory tried to object or at least clarify.

  “I mean, really,” Dylan inclined her head toward Jazz, “who’d want to keep her a secret anyway. She’s totally hot and obviously into you.”

  Jazz jogged up beside Dylan and tried to pull her aside. “Can I talk to you?”

  Dylan ushered Emory into the entry hall. “Sure, at brunch.”

  “Seriously, Dylan, can Emory and I have a minute before we go in? Please?” Jazz rocked back and forth on her heels, and Dylan finally released Emory’s arm.

  “Since you asked so nicely. See you in there.”

  When Dylan sauntered away, Jazz hugged Emory close. “How are you? My little sister can be a bit full-on.”

  She’d been to this house more times than she could count, but never as a girlfriend. The combination of possible receptions that awaited her with this family who shared everything sent her insides into another dive. “I’m not at all sure about this.”

  “Guess I’ll have to be strong for both of us, because I’m certain.”

  “Brunch is served,” G-ma called from the back of the house.

  “There’s just enough time to make it to the car.” Jazz kissed her lightly.

  The concern in Jazz’s eyes bolstered Emory’s courage just enough. “I can do this.”

  Cupping Emory’s elbow, Jazz led her toward the dining room. “Just be yourself.”

  “Emory, welcome.” Norma drew her into a warm hug as soon as they entered the dining space. “Jazz said she was bringing someone, but I had no idea it was you. A lovely surprise. Nice to have you at our table again.” She waved toward two empty chairs. “I’ve made room for you beside Jazz.”

  “Thank you, Norma. I hope this wasn’t inconvenient.”

  Gayle gave her a long hug when Norma released her. “Of course not. You’re always welcome here.” Her words sounded sincere, and her greeting just as authentic as the last time she’d been here. Gayle continued, “You remember the rest of the family?” She waved toward the others standing behind chairs around the table before motioning for everyone to sit.

  “I think so, though I almost didn’t recognize Riley and Ryan. They’ve grown so much since I saw them last.”

  Bennett moved toward her with Kerstin in tow. “And you remember my wife, Kerstin. So glad you’re here, Emory.”

  “Thanks, Ben.”

  Kerstin hugged her tight and whispered, “Relax. They don’t bite. I’ve got your back.”

  Emory almost burst into grateful laughter. Something about Kerstin’s comment, as a former outsider, made her feel lighter and more prepared. “Thank you.” She moved to the chair Jazz held for her while everyone watched. What were they thinking?

  Jazz took a seat to Norma’s left, and Emory settled between Jazz and Riley. Everybody took their places and the room suddenly quieted, except for a loud growl from Emory’s stomach.

  “Sounds like you’re in the right place,” Norma said. “Let’s eat.” She picked up a platter of bacon, sausage, and ham and forked some on her plate before passing it to Gayle, which seemed to be the starting buzzer.

  Jazz spooned scrambled eggs on her plate while Emory thought about the times she’d sat at this table working on fundraising projects with the Carlyle matriarchs. The atmosphere had been easy and full of laughter, warmth wafting around them as evident as the aromas of bacon and freshly brewed coffee, just like today.

  For the first several minutes, conversation consisted of asking for dishes and murmurs of appreciation. When everyone’s plates were full, Kerstin said, “In honor of our special guest, why don’t we go around the table and each person say whatever they like about their week, their life, what’s happening or about to happen, whatever.”

  “That sounds perfect,” Bennett said, giving her an appreciative nod. “Do you want to start, Kerst?”

  “Love to. Ben and I are still moving stuff into my new office, which used to be our garage. The renovation turned out better than I could’ve imagined. Ben had this great idea to build a ledge near the ceiling for my old models. I even put my first Lego set on display. I can’t wait to start working in the space next week.” She looked at Emory, “You should come check it out sometime. We’re right next door.”

  “I’d love to see it. Thank you.”

  Stephanie spoke next. “After last Sunday’s discussion, Simon and I talked about my taking over Ma Rolls when G-ma and Mama retire. I think I want to give it a try if that’s okay with everyone.” She looked expectantly toward Norma and Gayle. “What do you say?”

  “I love that plan,” Norma said. “Keeps our hard work, and the business, in the family.”

  “So do I,” Gayle agreed. “You can go out with us the final two weeks of the season, before we shut down for winter, and we’ll introduce you to everybody.”

  Simon cupped Stephanie’s hand. “I’m so proud of you. You’ll be great.”

  Ryan stuffed a slice of bacon in his mouth and raised his hand. “I just got the new Monster Hunter World game, and it is awesome.” He grabbed another piece of bacon and waved it toward Riley.

  “My class visited the International Civil Rights Museum this week,” she said.

  Norma lowered her coffee cup and said, “That used to be a Woolworth’s department store way back in the day. Your grandfather Garrett sat at that famous counter for breakfast almost every day when he walked a beat downtown.”

  “I know, G-ma.” Riley grinned. “I listen.”

  “Of course you do, honey.” Stephanie smiled lovingly at her.

  Kerstin’s suggestion broke the ice, and each member of the family contributed until it was finally Jazz’s turn. She placed her fork and knife across her empty plate. “Well, I have a couple of things going on right now.” She took Emory’s hand and brought it to her lips. “One is this beautiful woman beside me.”

  “Jazz, please.” Emory’s face burned as she tried to pull her hand from Jazz’s grasp, but she held firm.

  “Seriously, Em. I’m grateful you finally agreed to go on a real date with me. I look forward to getting to know you better…and to whatever the future holds.” Jazz stared into her eyes, and Emory forgot anyone else was in the room until Stephanie spoke.

  “And the second thing?”

  “Shea Spencer is still missing. We’ve followed up a few leads but nothing solid so far. I’m really worried because her dad is so unpredictable.” The light in Jazz’s eyes dimmed.

  Emory clasped Jazz’s hand under the table and whispered, “You’ll find her, darling.”

  “If anyone can, it’ll be our Jasmine,” Norma said. “Now, I’m sure everybody wants to hear how the two of you…met isn’t exactly the right word…how you…ended up here.”

  Norma Carlyle had never been uncomfortable or at a loss for words on any topic, and her awkwardness was endearing but also unsettling. “Maybe you should tell the story, Jazz.”

  Jazz rested her arm across the back of Emory’s chair. “She threw money at me in the canteen like I was a stripper.”

  Norma cackled with laughter until she started coughing and needed a drink of water.

  “Jasmine Perry!” Emory stared at her. “That’s not what happened at all.”

  “Maybe you should tell it then.”

  “I was getting change out of my purse for a cup of tea, and when I saw you…” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t tell the Carlyle family that the sight of Jazz excited her so much she became a clumsy, uncommunicative bundle of nerves and dropped all her money.

  Jazz grinned. “And did you or did you not spill your change at my feet?”

  “Well…yes.”

  “And do you deny I had to make up work-related excuses to see you until you finally agreed to a real date.”

  “You what?” It never occurred to her Jazz had fabricated reasons to see her when they first reconnected, and the thought made her warm all over.

  “You played hard to get.”

  Emory lost herself in the hunger in Jazz’s eyes, remembering how she’d ached for her every time she was close and still did.

  “Get a room, you two,” Simon said. “How about dessert? Warm enough on the porch?”

  “I believe it is, son,” Gayle said. “Kerstin and Bennett, your turn to clear the table. Emory, would you help me and Norma with coffee and dessert in about five minutes?”

  Emory’s stomach twisted. She’d heard about the matriarchal summonses to the kitchen. She gave Jazz’s hand a quick squeeze and whispered, “Wish me luck.”

  “I keep telling you to just be yourself. And answer any questions honestly. G-ma will know if you’re holding back.”

  A few minutes later, Kerstin inclined her head toward the kitchen as she followed Bennett to the front porch. “You’re up, Em.”

  Jazz took her hand and led her into the kitchen where Norma and Gayle stood at a center island laden with desserts. “Maybe I can help too?”

  “We can manage, Jasmine,” Norma said. “We’ll be out shortly.”

  Emory swallowed hard. Should she say something first or wait for the inquisition? A few seconds ticked slowly by until she couldn’t bear the silence. “These desserts look delicious. How do you know who wants what?”

  “This family is as predictable about desserts as a dog at meal time. Simon and I always have a taste of everything. Bennett, Riley, and Ryan prefer chocolate pie. Gayle and Kerstin have a slice of red velvet cake. Dylan is strictly a key lime pie girl. Stephanie doesn’t usually have dessert, just a hot chocolate with lots of whipped cream and mini marshmallows.”

  “And Jazz?” Emory felt shy asking. She knew Jazz’s sexual tastes and every inch of her body after the past few days but practically nothing about her other preferences.

  “What do you think?” Gayle asked.

  Emory examined the three dishes for several seconds until a feeling washed through her. “I’d say Jazz likes chocolate and key lime pie.”

  Norma placed her hands on her wide hips and smiled. “Good guess.”

  “Our Jazz,” Gayle’s emphasis on our left no doubt she’d intended to sound possessive and protective, “is partial to sweet and tart, gooey filling and flakey crust, new recipes and old.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25