Dead Slow

G. L. Dartt

“But I want a woman.”

Misgiving gave way to profound joy as Nikki Wade realized what Helen was saying. She had to look away momentarily, fighting for composure before looking back into those green eyes, dancing now with promise and what might have been a little relief at finally being able to say it. For the past three years, as she languished in a women's prison, Helen Stewart had been all Nikki had thought about. Now that she was a free woman, it seemed as if she finally had what she'd always wanted. It was hard to believe, so hard that she was afraid to seize the moment.

“We'll take things slowly,” she managed.

“Yeah, dead slow.” The twinkle and crooked grin indicated that Helen wasn't entirely serious in her agreement.

And in the next second, she was kissing her, and it was all Nikki could have imagined. Briefly they parted, but only so that they could remove themselves from the traffic on the pavement, easing over to the shelter of a nearby shop entrance. The smooth concrete of the building facade was cold against Nikki's back, but the woman in her arms was very warm as she pressed against her. They kissed until Nikki was lightheaded, until the blood sang in her veins and her heart pounded, completely oblivious to the pedestrians passing by, several of whom faltered as they noticed the two extremely attractive women locked in the passionate embrace. Though there were a few other gay bars along here, and this had developed into a trendier part of the city, it was still an uncommon sight in the middle of the afternoon.

Finally, Helen drew away, her breathing unsteady. Her lips were parted, swollen slightly, and her look was one of wanton need as she looked up into Nikki's somewhat dazed expression. “Let's go.” The Scottish tinge was heavy in her voice, thick from her heightened arousal.

Nikki felt a thrill of desire resonate from the base of her brain to settle somewhere just south of her naval. She was overwhelmed by the thought of finally having that warm body pressed against her own, to be able to explore and cherish her without any barriers looming before them, without the obstacle of Nikki being an inmate and Helen being the wing governor. To finally make love to her and claim her thoroughly as her own.

But what came out of her mouth was a hoarse, “No.”

Helen blinked, a thin eyebrow lifting incredulously. “No?”

Nikki fought for clarity. It was so damned hard to think when this woman was touching her. With an effort, she removed her arms from around Helen's waist and reached for her hands, gripping them tightly while at the same time putting some space between them.

“Not yet,” she added in a gentler tone. “We need to...we have to talk first.” She glanced down the street, her brow furrowed. “There's a coffee shop a few blocks from here. At least, there used to be.” She looked back at Helen. “Please.”

“Of course, Nikki.” Helen frowned and shot a quick look over her shoulder. Even here, they could hear the muffled music from inside the club. “What about your party?”

Nikki squeezed Helen's hand, drawing her away from the entrance and down the street. Out on the pavement, she released her hold and put both hands firmly in her jacket pockets. “It'll keep.”

“What about Trisha?” The tone was a little more practical as Helen addressed Nikki's business partner and ex-girlfriend.

“She knows where I am,” Nikki said as they crossed the intersection. She had to shorten her stride to allow Helen to catch up to her. “In fact, she practically threw me out of the club when she told me to go after you.”

“You needed to be told?”

“It's not like I knew there was anything to go after. You don't always make yourself clear, Helen.”

Helen didn't respond, but the expression on her face indicated that the comment had struck home. Nikki stifled a sigh. She could be on her way to Helen's place right this moment, but instead, she was ushering her into a rather dingy cafe that hadn't changed much since the last time she'd been there, years earlier. She must be barking mad.

She waited until they were seated at the small table by the front window and the waiter had slunk over to take their order. Helen requested a coffee, black, while Nikki asked for a bottle of water. She felt parched, as if she had been stumbling for ages through the desert. The thought came to her that in a figurative way, that's exactly what she'd been doing before finally hitting the oasis of her granted appeal. When their drinks arrived, she drank thirstily, downing half the bottle immediately.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” Helen regarded her with a mixture of trepidation and expectation.

Nikki took a moment to gather her thoughts. “Us. I meant it when I said I wanted to take things slowly.”

“Is this about Thomas? Because if it is, then I want you to know that it's completely over between us.”

“Like it was over between us?”

Helen's eyes met hers gravely. “Nikki...” she began.

“No, please, hear me out." Helen hesitated, before offering a brief nod. “The thing is, we have all this history between us from Larkhall, Helen, and in the end, it really doesn't mean a damn thing. Prison twists things, makes them bizarre.”

“Believe it or not, I understand that.”

“I had no control in there, Helen. You were the one who always had the power, always made the decisions about what was going to happen with us, or what wasn't.” She faltered. “Always was the one who said it was finished. Christ, the only time I had any choice about what happened was when I bloody escaped!” She caught herself, realizing her voice had risen at the last and knowing she had to rein it in if she wanted to be understood. She swallowed hard and met Helen's eyes squarely. “It's different out here. And I'm not about to have my heart ripped out again six months from now just because you decide that it's all a bit difficult and you want to go back to something safe.”

Helen's lips thinned. Nikki knew she was angry. “I'm here, aren't I?”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Just why are you here?”

“I thought that would be obvious.” The accent thickened, as it always did when Helen was allowing her emotions to take over.

“It's not. It's not really obvious at all.” Nikki sought to find the words. “Helen, I'm not the same person here that I was in Larkhall. Neither are you. We don't have to hold back anymore, and part of that is being completely honest and open about how you feel. I don't want to have to guess about it all the time.”

Helen's jaw moved, as if she tasted something unpleasant, and she looked away, having trouble meeting Nikki's gaze. “I've never been very open about my feelings. It really has nothing to do with how it is in prison.”

“Then, I need to know that,” Nikki said earnestly as she leaned forward. “I need to know what you're like outside those walls and all those regulations. And you need to know who I can be when I'm not locked up twenty-four hours a day.” She managed a crooked grin. “You might discover it’s not what you want after all.”

Helen fiddled with her coffee mug. “I can't imagine not wanting you.”

The voice was low but the words cut to the bone and Nikki dipped her head, wondering why she was fighting so hard against this. Tears burned the back of her eyes and she felt trapped. “Um, I need to...” She let out her breath. “I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere.”

She rose quickly from her seat and headed for the toilets at the back of the cafe. Inside, she splashed cold water on her face and regarded herself in the dingy mirror. “You're a bleeding idiot, Wade,” she muttered to her reflection.

She wondered what she'd do if, when she went back out, she discovered Helen had left, deciding it wasn't worth the bother. The thought made Nikki's heart spasm in her chest, but she knew in the core of her being that she had to do this now or she'd have lost the last thing that even prison hadn't been able to touch. If that meant Helen didn't agree, well, Nikki had let her go once, back when she first found out about Helen becoming involved with the prison's senior medical officer, Thomas Waugh. It had damned near killed her, but she'd done it. She'd even been able to wish her luck. She'd do it again if she had to.

But Helen was still sitting at the table when Nikki returned to the cafe and as she paused by the counter, she absorbed the sight of the woman she'd loved for so long. The waning sunlight filtering through the grime on the window granted Helen a surreal look, touching lightly on the golden tint in her hair, and casting a warm glow to her skin. Nikki studied that profile; the familiar contours of forehead and nose, the expressive lips and stubborn chin, feeling the ache of wanting her permeate her very soul. Straightening her shoulders, she strode briskly across the floor and stopped by the table. Helen looked up and Nikki offered a bright smile, stretching out her hand.

“Hi," she said.” “I'm Nikki Wade.”

Helen looked briefly confused before finally returning the smile as she accepted the hand, squeezing gently. “Helen,” she responded with a touch of amusement in her voice. “Helen Stewart.”

“Is this seat taken?” Nikki lifted a brow inquiringly.

“No. I'm alone. Please, join me.”

Nikki sank gracefully in the chair and looked at her with predatory interest, the same she would have shown a stranger back in her wilder, more uninhibited days. “A beautiful woman like you being all alone is a crime against nature.”

For a second, Helen stared at her, and then suddenly laughed out loud, throwing her head back. “You don't really think that line works, do you?”

Nikki was momentarily disconcerted. “It used to.” She paused and leaned forward, her tone lowering. “But I've been away for a while. Maybe I'll tell you all about it someday.”

Helen sobered, though the amused glint lingered in her eyes. “Yeah, maybe you will.”

“So, tell me, Helen, what do you do?”

“I'm actually between jobs.” Helen flashed that smile, the one where she did the thing with her tongue, and Nikki was hard pressed not to react with a lot more familiarity than she was trying to show. “Left the last one under awkward circumstances, I'm afraid, but I have a few interviews lined up.”

“Does that mean you have some time on your hands right now?”

“You could say that.” She tilted her head slightly. “So ... come here often?"

Now it was Nikki's turn to laugh. “Not a lot, no,” she managed. “It's a bit of a dive, isn't it?”

Helen glanced around, as if for the first time, taking in the battered nature of the tables and the air of neglect by owners who didn't really care all that much anymore. “That it is.”

“Listen, I hear there's a party going on down at Chix. Fancy a bit of dancing?” Maybe a little dinner afterward?”

“I'm not in the habit of going off with strange women, Miss Wade.”

“Ah, take a chance, Miss Stewart. You never know what could happen.”

“That's what I'm afraid of.”

Reaching across the table, Nikki took her hand. “You don't have to be afraid with me.”

Helen laced her fingers in hers and pinned her with a look. “I guess I don't, do I?”

“C'mon. I promise you a good time.” Nikki pulled Helen up out of her chair, tossed some money on the table and drew her toward the door.

The music had not waned in intensity since the last time she entered, and Helen had to steel herself, her hand tightening convulsively in Nikki's warm grasp.” Surprised, Nikki glanced down at her and suddenly smiled, releasing her grip and shifting her arm so that it encircled Helen's shoulders protectively, holding her firmly to her side as they plunged into the throng of people.

Helen tried to relax, though it was difficult. This wasn't a world she was familiar with, this upscale club with the crowded dance floor and the feverish atmosphere. It was predominantly female, with only a few men present, and the woman at her side seemed even more unfamiliar in this environment. Moving through it with easy grace, Nikki looked chic and stunning dressed all in black, her appearance a far cry from the defensive body language and shapeless clothes of Larkhall Prison. Her short dark hair curled around nicely shaped ears, and the flickering lights made her strong features more attractive and even a little dangerous.

As they reached the bar, Helen saw that Trisha was now behind it, serving drinks. When their eyes met, there was a flash of resentment and dislike there before she shifted her gaze over at Nikki and forced a smile.

“Caught up to her, did you?”

“Didn't have to run far,” Nikki said casually. “She made it easy.”

Helen wondered if Nikki thought it was the first time she had made anything easy. She supposed she couldn't blame her if she did. Keeping her arm tight about Nikki's waist, she leaned into her body, feeling as if it were the only place she belonged.

Trisha flicked a glance at her. Her face was completely composed now, giving away nothing. “What'll you have?”

“Vodka tonic.”

“Make it champagne,” Nikki countered. She looked down at her. “We're celebrating, right?”

“Whatever you say,” Helen responded with a smile.

She was still a little unsettled by this authoritative, completely confident woman. She knew what Nikki was trying to do with this game of just having met, wanting to display to Helen what she was really like when not surrounded by regulations and bars and screws that kept trying to beat her down, mentally if not physically, twenty-four hours a day. The trouble was, Helen had found Nikki Wade quite formidable within the confines of Larkhall. Here, she was simply magnificent, and Helen was starting to wonder if she was up for the challenge.

She firmed her jaw as she accepted the glass of champagne, clinking it briefly against Nikki's before sipping it slowly. If there was one thing that sparked her baser instincts, it was the implication that she couldn't handle something. She hadn't accepted it from her father all those years growing up under his stern and domineering mien; she sure as hell wasn't going to accept it from herself.

“Dance?” Nikki regarded her with a warm smile.

“Lead the way.”

Out on the floor, the music reverberated through her body, and she let herself respond to it, and to Nikki, shutting out the rest of the crowd and confusion. Nikki looked briefly startled, but then grinned and moved closer, the pair flowing in rhythm as if they’d been dancing together their entire lives. Several dances passed as they reveled in the music and being with each other, interrupted only by pauses for more champagne, before the tempo finally changed, becoming slow and romantic. Helen moaned softly as she molded her body against Nikki's warmth, feeling her arms surround her, pulling her close.

“You’re a fantastic dancer,” Nikki murmured in her ear as they swayed to the soulful sounds of sax and guitars. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“You never asked.”

They hadn't asked a lot of things of each other…God, when had they had the chance to talk, to really share things? Certainly, not by passing each other in the wing, or the lifer’s meetings or even in those few times they had been alone in the art room or the library or Nikki's cell. Even the night Nikki had made her daring escape and made her way to Helen's flat, their discussion consisted mostly of loud arguments about the situation, giving way to passionate discourse as they made frantic love before they fell back to arguing once more.

Helen remembered that night with crystal clarity, granting the indulgence for the first time in a year. She hadn't dared dwell on it once Nikki was back behind bars. It would have been too much to bear. Now she basked in the memory of her lover’s touch, the depth of sensation as they melded together in desperate need.

Nikki was affected as well, her breath coming in soft hitches as she ran her hands over Helen's back, the touch searing through her shirt. They had been forced to shed their jackets much earlier while dancing, and now, only the thinnest of material, Helen's black cotton shirt and Nikki's silk blouse, separated the heat of their bodies. Helen kept her head tucked into the crook of Nikki's shoulder, face buried in the warmth of her throat as they danced. The woman’s perfume was ambrosia in her nostrils, and as she licked the salty flavor of perspiration from the soft skin, she could feel Nikki quiver against her in response.

Lifting her face, Helen trailed her lips along Nikki's jaw, seeking out her mouth. Lips closed over her own, and she tightened her embrace as they kissed deeply, a long, sweet, open-mouthed kiss that left her weak in the knees.

Too soon, the song ended and Nikki pulled away, looking dazed and confused. Unsteadily, Helen followed her back to the bar, suspecting that Nikki’s insistence on a deliberate progression was eroding by leaps and bounds. That was all to the good as far as Helen was concerned. She felt as if every sinew was thrumming with desire, as if her very skin was so sensitized that the slightest touch would send her over the edge. Seizing the new glass of champagne Trisha offered, she tossed it back, feeling the coolness slide down her throat with sensual ease. She turned when she felt Nikki's presence behind her and accepted the red leather jacket that was handed to her.

“Ready to go?”

“Ages ago,” Helen told her, her voice husky.

With renewed composure, Nikki offered a cool smile and led her through the crowd to the exit. Outside, it was dark, the sun having set an hour or so earlier, and Helen shivered, feeling chilled in the late autumn air after the heat of the club. Nikki lifted an arm, imperiously hailing a taxi.

“Wait, my car. It's parked around the corner.”

“I’ll take care of it later,” Nikki told her as she bundled her into the rear of the cab before Helen could protest any further. “Besides, we’ve both had a few. More than enough to put us over the limit.”

Helen hesitated and then shrugged mentally as she snuggled against Nikki's side, sheltered within the strong arm encircling her shoulder. It took her a moment to realize the instructions Nikki gave the driver were not to her flat.

“Where're we going?”

“I promised you dinner, remember?”

Helen knew exactly what she wanted to eat, and it wasn't food. The expression must have been plain on her face because Nikki laughed out loud and hugged her.

“Slowly,” she reminded.

Helen exhaled loudly and looked out the window, not wanting to start an argument. As the cab pulled to a stop in front of the restaurant, she blinked as she recognized the name. It was a very popular spot, one that usually required a reservation a month in advance.

“God, Nikki, you brought me here?”

“Hey, I'm only going to be released the once,” Nikki told her as she slipped from the cab. She tipped the driver generously and took Helen's arm.

“What about reservations?”

“Already taken care of. The owner’s an old friend.”

He must have been, Helen thought, because when Nikki gave her name to the maitre’d, he immediately led them to one of the better tables. Before long, a short man in a tux came out from the back, hands outstretched. A generous mustache bristled on his upper lip and his dark eyes lit up as he saw them.

“Nicola.” The accent was pure Italian, and Nikki smiled as she rose from her chair.

“Palmo,” she responded and kissed him on each cheek. “Thank you for fitting us in on such short notice.”

“For you, any time.” He studied the woman before him. “You should have told me today was the day. I would have made better arrangements.”

“It wasn't a sure thing, Palmo,” Nikki replied easily. “I didn't even know until I was on my way out the courthouse door.”

“I saw you speak on the television. You were splendid.”

Nikki blushed. “I did my best.”

“Then the least I can do is provide a suitable welcome home meal.” He looked at Helen, his dark eyes brightening as if noticing her for the first time. “And this one?”

“Palmo, this is Helen Stewart,” Nikki introduced her. “She’s the one I was talking about in my interview with the press.”

“Ah, bravo,” he murmured as he bent over Helen's hands and kissed them. “You are a most lucky woman to have Nicola at your side.”

Helen glanced at Nikki and smiled at her obvious embarrassment. “Believe me, I know.”

He bowed slightly and held Nikki's chair while she resumed her seat, before disappearing into the back. Helen studied her as the waiters descended with napkins and water and breadsticks. “You’re just full of surprises.”

Nikki offered a cheeky grin. “You should be used to that.”

Helen lifted her brow but didn't say anything. As they waited for their meal, she glanced around, suddenly conscious of being underdressed for her surroundings. Nikki must have sensed it, because she immediately reached across the table to touch her hand.

“You’re totally gorgeous,” she said seriously. “The most incredible woman here.”

Helen dipped her head to look at her beneath lowered lashes. “You’re biased.”

“Truth is truth,” Nikki told her nonchalantly.

Despite her trepidations, Helen relaxed. Nikki had always been very good at that, at finding a way to make it seem all right, even when it wasn't. Before long, the meal arrived and Helen discovered that she was hungry for food after all, the savory odors whetting her appetite. The meal was a complete experience, from appetizer to dessert; with more than a passing nod that this was a romantic dinner, and not merely a celebratory one.

Helen found herself watching Nikki closely as she ate, absorbed in the way she brought the food to her mouth, how her lips closed around each morsel. They spoke sketchily of books and the films that Helen had seen advertised, though she found it hard to pay attention to the words either was saying. Instead, she felt adrift on a sea of arousal, wanting Nikki with an almost obsessive need. She was almost feverish with desire when the taxi came to a stop in front of her flat, but not so far gone that she didn't notice when Nikki instructed the driver to wait.

She eyed her unhappily as Nikki walked her to the door where they paused. “You’re not staying?”

Nikki looked honestly pained. “I want to. More than you know,” she admitted as she leaned against the doorframe. “But, no I'm not.”

“Nikki...”

“Helen, we're just beginning. I want to build a good foundation before we start with anything else.”

“You're going to make me work for this, aren't you?”

“Maybe it's time you did a little of the chasing for a change.” Nikki lifted her shoulders in a shrug.

Helen considered that, not entirely happy about it, but allowing that perhaps it was fair as far as Nikki was concerned. “I don't even have your number.”

Nikki blinked, abruptly thrown off stride. “Shit. Neither do I.”

Helen dug in her purse, pulling out a pen and a bit of paper. She scribbled her number on it, though she suspected Nikki knew it quite well, and placed it, along with her palm, on Nikki's upper chest. “Call me.”

“I will.” Nikki put her hand over Helen's, sliding it over slightly to hold it to her breast. Her dark eyes smoldered and Helen shivered from the intensity of her gaze.

“You’re not playing fair,” she complained.

“You know me, Helen, I make my own rules.”

Helen pulled her hand away slowly, giving Nikki the chance to reclaim it. She didn't. “Where will you stay tonight, Nikki?”

“There's a flat over the club.”

“Where Trisha lives?”

Nikki smiled at the audible tinge of jealousy that Helen had tried very hard not to reveal. “No, Trish still lives in the house we shared before I was arrested. I asked her to ready the flat for when I was released.”

“So, you weren't ready to jump back into it with her?”

“I didn't think there was any hope as far as you were concerned.” Helen winced slightly at the hurt threaded through the words. “Trish and I would have had to do a lot of rebuilding.”

“But she wanted to.”

Nikki looked at her directly. “Yeah, she did. And I was willing to give it a try.”

Helen felt her stomach clench, and it took a moment for her to find her voice. "I'm not sure I know how to handle this much honesty.”

“You’re going to have to get used to it.”

“So, I will.”

Nikki hesitated, and then leaned closer. Helen raised her face and felt the soft lips against her own, at once questioning and sure at the same time. The kiss was incredible, full of longing and unfulfilled desire, and it made all the others that came before pale in comparison. Helen was lightheaded when it ended.

“Good night, Helen.” Nikki whispered low in her ear.

“Sod you, Nikki Wade.”

There was a flash of teeth and a careless laugh in the night as the woman in black turned and swept down the stairs to the waiting taxi.

Nikki found the red Peugeot 306 parked just where Helen said it would be. As she unlocked the door, she doubted Helen even remembered giving her the keys the night before, and she smiled as she slipped into the driver’s seat. Helen had been off balance for most of the previous evening, and Nikki found it entertaining in a way that maybe it shouldn’t have been. Perhaps she still stung from the whole Thomas Waugh situation and needed Helen to suffer a little as she had suffered.

It wasn't necessarily big of her, but it was very human, she decided. Which was all to the good, because feeling like a normal, everyday human being wasn't something she had experienced in quite some time.

After grinding the gears a few times and decorating the car’s interior with a few curses, she managed to pull out into the street where she drove with extreme care, paying close attention after not having been behind the wheel for several years. She especially did not want to smash up Helen's car on her first full day back. Eventually, the rust was shed from her reflexes and she relaxed as old habits allowed her to navigate through the traffic. She stopped briefly at a shop to pick up some coffee and continued on her way, finally pulling up to the front of Helen's flat. After locking the car, she carried the coffee up the flight of stairs, leaning on the chime heavily, and adding a few sharp raps on the window for good measure.

As she waited for a response, she looked around the street, basking in the weak morning sunshine and listening to the sounds of the waking neighborhood with a quiet, reverent pleasure. She didn't turn back to the door until she finally heard stirring from inside, the tentative shuffling sound of feet descending the interior stairs. She smiled widely when the door opened to reveal a rumpled Helen obviously just dragged from her bed. Dressed in a ratty t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms, she eyed Nikki beadily. Nikki quickly held up the coffee.

“Good morning, Miss Stewart.”

Helen made a sound deep in her throat, but she accepted the coffee cup and drank greedily from it.

“Are you always up this early?” she demanded as she stepped back from the door and started up the short flight of stairs. She didn't look behind to see if Nikki was following her. She just assumed she would.

Nikki stifled a chuckle and slipped inside, shutting the door behind her. “Usually.”

“I’ll have you know I have a bloody headache from all that champagne.”

“That’s too bad,” Nikki offered easily as she followed Helen into the kitchen. “I feel fine.”

“Good for you.” Helen opened the fridge and brought out some orange juice, pouring herself a large glass. Then she turned and faced Nikki, her bleary eyes scanning her from head to toe.

Nikki resisted the urge to preen. She knew she looked good, dressed in a white top under an exquisitely tailored dark jacket, with slim cut black jeans and leather boots. Her hair had that casually mussed look that came from careful styling, while jewelry glinted at her ears and neck. Her makeup was impeccable, applied with a careful touch to make it look as if she was wearing none at all.

“Might not have been the champagne,” Helen said contemplatively. “Might be the sexual frustration.”

Nikki grinned and casually leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “I thought you straight birds developed a headache only when you were trying to avoid sex.”

Helen watched her narrowly. “I don't remember you being this…. malicious.”

“And I don't remember you being this stroppy in the morning,” Nikki replied. “Of course, I never saw you until you were already at work.”

Helen took another big gulp of juice. “I’d had my caffeine and breakfast by then, hadn't I?”

Nikki glanced at the now emptied cup sitting on the counter. Helen must have practically inhaled it. “Well, I brought you the coffee,” she reminded dryly. “And if you get dressed, I’ll take you out for breakfast.”

Helen put the glass down on the small kitchen table and moved over to Nikki. Grasping her forearms, she pulled them down and around her waist as she leaned into the lanky body. “Why don't you help me undress instead?”

Nikki did her best to appear unimpressed at the offer. “While you’re still stroppy? I think not.” She bent her head slightly, kissing Helen with slow pleasure. “You should probably take a shower, too,” she muttered once they parted.

Helen favored her with a glare, but Nikki merely smiled blandly and held her gaze. After a moment, Helen made a small sound of disgust and shuffled off in the general direction of the bathroom.

Nikki let out the breath she'd been holding. Taking things slowly was a hell of a lot harder than she thought it would be. It was demanding everything of her not to accept the invitations, both blatant and subtle, from Helen. Yet, at the same time, there was a delicious sort of anticipation about the whole thing.

From the rear of the house, she could hear running water, and she closed her eyes, imagining Helen in the shower, the warm water cascading over that compact body, the suds sliding slick and smooth over that silky skin. She imagined walking in, slipping out of her clothes and pulling back the curtain to join her. She wouldn’t be pushed away, she knew. No, Helen would immediately turn to her with that wide-eyed gaze, stretch out her arms and welcome her into her naked embrace...

Nikki shuddered and gasped, opening her eyes.

“Shit.”

Moving into the living room, she took a seat on the sofa, resting her elbows on her thighs, hands clasped loosely between them as she leaned forward. A glance at the upholstery sparked the memory of the last time she'd been here. How she had fallen onto these same cushions as Helen straddled her, the women hastily undressing each other in the desperate need to feel the other’s naked skin on her own before somehow stumbling into the bedroom where…

“Christ.”

Agitated, she rose to her feet and began to pace about the room, trying very hard not to think about anything at all. It was a relief when she heard Helen finally leave the bedroom. She turned to check her out, immediately biting the inside of her cheek. Of course, Helen would be wearing that black leather jacket and the red shirt with her jeans. She always looked so completely gorgeous in that combination.

Helen looked at her expectantly. “Where’re we going?”

“You know the neighborhood better than I do. Where’s the closest cafe?” Nikki gestured toward the door. “By the way, I brought back your car.”

“Is your insurance up to date?”

Nikki flicked her an arched brow as she headed down the stairs. “Oops. Knew I was forgetting something.”

“Nikki!”

Nikki laughed as she heard the familiar, outraged tone in Helen's voice, but she didn't look back. Instead, she tossed the keys over her shoulder, and Helen must have caught them because she didn't hear them hit the floor. Outside, she smiled up into the sunshine, pausing briefly to spread out her arms, soaking in all she could.

Helen brushed past her toward her car. “You’re impossible.”

“From the first moment you met me, darling.” Helen, who had been unlocking the driver’s door, stopped and looked back at her. There was an expression on her face, and Nikki knew that she was remembering that first encounter, so charged with hostility and strong willed confrontation. She grinned nastily. “I bet if you’d had a clue what was going to happen over the next three years, you’d have transferred me out of Larkhall that very minute.”

But Helen held her gaze, her eyes soft. “I told you yesterday that I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I meant every word.

Nikki's grin slipped, feeling that strike to the bone. “I meant what I said, too, Helen. I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

Helen looked pleased, but also as if she didn't know what to say next. Nikki reached for the passenger door. “I'm hungry,” she reminded, rattling the handle.

The cafe wasn't much in terms of décor, but it was crowded, which was a bigger indicator of its quality of food. Nikki and Helen slipped into a booth as it was vacated by a couple of men in business suits. A waitress was soon over to clear away the dirty dishes, wipe off the table and leave them with some menus.

Nikki looked around. “A regular haunt?”

“I’ve eaten breakfast here more than a few times,” Helen admitted. “Particularly after…” She trailed off.

“After you broke up with Sean?” Nikki's tone was sardonic.

Helen firmed her jaw. “That’s old news.”

“Yeah, it is,” Nikki agreed, “but we couldn't talk about it then. Not in a reasonable way, anyway.” She paused. “I'm sorry you were hurt, especially when he showed up and burned his wedding suit. I didn't think you were losing much when you got rid of him, but I realize that was a hard time for you.” She looked up and took in Helen's expression, sparking a sheepish grin. “I know I didn't make it any easier on you.”

Helen toyed with her utensils. “I don't think you ever really understood my position, Nikki.”

The words were careful, and Nikki forced herself not to react instinctively to the accusation implied behind them. She had told herself repeatedly the previous evening, as she lay in bed, that she just couldn't jump on things the way she had become accustomed to the past few years. Not if she wanted this relationship to work.

“I understood it just fine, Helen,” she replied after a moment of bringing herself under control. She could only hope it would become easier with practice. “I just couldn't respect it.” She held up her hand, stopping her as Helen began to speak, her expression angry. “That doesn’t mean that I didn't respect you, but Helen, I couldn't afford to respect your position. As long as I was pursuing you, then I kept surviving. While you were tossing around all that crap about your job, it wasn't that I didn't know what you were trying to say, I just couldn't let myself hear it. It would have finished me.” Nikki reached over and took her hand. “And what would you have done if I had respected your position? What if the first time you hauled me into your office and told me you were a,” she mimicked the wing governor’s tones of long ago, “heterosexual, I just accepted there could be nothing between us? What if, when you came to me later…to me, not Sean, not your friend, Claire, but to me…crying and upset about all the shit that comes with your job, I didn't kiss you? Where would you be right now?”

Helen looked down at their entwined fingers, her expression troubled. “I don't know,” she said finally, in a quiet voice.

“So, believe me, not only could I not respect your position, deep down, I don't think you really wanted me to.”

“Ah, Nikki…” Now it was Helen's turn to falter, to try to find the words. Nikki realized that Helen was trying as hard as she was, and she squeezed her hand gently. “It was just so difficult.”

Nikki let out a small laugh, devoid of humor. “It was bloody hard on my end, too.” She drew back her hand as the waitress came over and the women ordered. Nikki was glad of the time it gave her to formulate what she wanted to say next. She waited until the waitress was well away and leaned forward. “Helen, I want you to know that I really do understand what you did for me. I know how much you sacrificed in terms of your principles, and all you’ve worked for these past few years.” She dipped her head. “I also know that by walking away this last time, you not only protected my appeal, you gave up your only good chance to bring down that bastard Fenner. I understand what that must have cost you.”

Helen flinched a bit. “I made my own choices. I don't regret any of what I’ve done.”

“And I can’t regret anything I’ve done.” Nikki managed a smile. “It's brought us to where we are.”

“It has.” Helen pursed her lips. “Just where are we, Nikki?”

“I reckon we’ll have to figure it out as we go along. Because Helen?” Nikki waited until those green eyes met hers. “You never gave up on me.

Helen smiled. “No, I didn't.”

“But you did give up on us.”