The woman closed the door gingerly, taking great care not to make the slightest sound. After accomplishing the first part of her mission, leaned against the front door heavily, relieved. She sighed deeply as she proceeded to take off her killer snakeskin ankle boots. It was only when her bare feet met the coolness of the rose marble floor that she realised just how much they ached. Tonight had been a complete disaster. One of her own allowance to be sure. Why she'd ever decided that agreeing to a date with such an obviously predatory, gold-digging woman was a good idea momentarily escaped her. That moment would turn out to be extremely brief. She tip-toed up the grand staircase, shoes in hand, with an almost exaggerated slowness. A casual observer would have remarked, had they been privy to the scene, that this otherwise elegant woman appeared to be comically afraid of making a sound. So much so, that she may or may not have been holding her breath. As it was, she reached the landing without incident and turned the corner to pass by her daughter's room. As per usual, she'd left the night light on. The dark-haired woman very carefully placed her shoes and Gucci clutch on the floor before entering.

Her daughter was fast asleep, the remnants of a cold lending her the tiniest, cutest snore. Before her was a heavenly vision. Christina was peacefully slumbering in the arms of her goddess of a nanny. The Mother gasped involuntarily before biting down hard on her lower lip. The breath she may have been holding expunged in a squeaky wheeze-snort after the sharp intake of breath. The curly-haired grad student looked up stunned from the book in which she was so thoroughly engrossed, and then surpise was replaced by a curious expression. Jolted back to reality by her beautiful employer, she shrugged shyly and looked down towards the sleeping child in explanation. The explanation was understood by the older woman. She could very well imagine how the scenario had played out as it had countless times before. It always started with puppy dog eyes and a "please Myka, just one more story" or a variant thereof, followed by "please Myka don't leave me until I fall asleep" or a variant thereof. Hours before, Christina had snuggled into the young woman's side in such a manner as to make it difficult to retrieve her arm without waking the girl.

All the very good logical reasons for going on a series of spectacularly bad dates, were really one reason. That reason was dressed in a navy blue University of Oxford hoodie and scandalously short shorts, barely covering scandalously long legs. All the award-winning engineer could think at present were scandalous thoughts. The young woman who was helping her raise her daughter was hyper-intelligent, warm and absolutely devoted to her charge. But over the last 2 years it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore her growing infatuation with the long-legged beauty. In that time, with what actual free time she possessed that was not spent with Christina, she had taken up kenpo, ballet and a multitude of other distraction techniques masquerading as hobbies.

Hence the seemingly endless number of terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad dates. In actual fact, she had not been remotely tempted by anyone else. And every Nate that tried to stroke her thigh during dinner, every Giselle trying to eye-fuck her across the table just made the beleaguered beauty want to run home into the arms of the endless wonder that was Myka Ophelia Bering. It was a mess. She would have to suppress all thoughts of a romantic nature towards the girl with the emerald-green eyes. At least try much much harder to suppress them, and definitely not stare at her like she was presently doing. Her mouth may or may not have been slightly agape. Her eyes may or may not have been blacker than they'd ever been.

Righty-ho then, she thought and ran a hand through her shiny black tresses, mouthed "Thank you" and went to place a kiss on Christina's forehead. A smile lit up her face as she watched her daughter. Myka very carefully disentangled herself without waking the 4 year old. Helena heard her whisper "goodnight lovebug" before also bidding herself goodnight and exiting the room.

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She couldn't sleep. It started out that she used to sleep naked but then she was all too aware that they shared a roof and she was naked. So she stopped. And then she couldn't sleep because she was too used to sleeping naked. And then when she eventually got desensitised to the skimpy nightdresses she wore to bed, she still couldn't drift off into a state where she wasn't thinking about the stunning American who shared the same roof. "

Restless, she thought to make her way to the kitchen to brew herself some valerian root with chamomile flowers. Once downstairs she noticed the library door was open and the lights on. It was too late to walk past unnoticed as Myka was sat with her knees curled up at the bay window and had caught her shadow in her peripheral vision. "Helena?" she asked unsure whether she had imagined the ghost of movement in the darkness.

Helena emerged through the doorway, "Yes darling, it's only me. I couldn't sleep."

"Me neither." Myka had grown unsure of her place in the household over the last month. Lately it seemed to her that the aristocratic Englishwoman was actively avoiding her. And the very idea, hurt. Somehow hurt more than it should.

"You came home early." It was a question. A question in a statement laced with a a dash of relief a pinch of hope and a smidgen of fear.

Helena had walked across the room and was now facing the lovely 23-year old Classics student. She nodded. She was also still staring. Something she only realised when the younger woman inexplicably blushed a deep pink.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- It's really none of my business. Sorry."

"Please darling it's perfectly fine. You've no need to apologise." Was Myka jealous? The possiblility made her slightly dizzy.

"I didn't get home nearly early enough." She said suggestively. Her heart was pounding in her ears.
"In fact, you know darling I think from now on I will be spending my evenings at home."

This time they were both staring. Helena was wearing a short robe, poorly obscuring an even shorter black lacy number. Myka bit her lip before looking away.

Dr. Wells was a certified genius, but at this very moment her brain was in total meltdown and all she had to rely on was pure instinct. Could it be that the girl was struggling with similar thoughts? Those green eyes were certainly much darker than she remembered.

Myka smiled.

There it was again a dash of hope and a pinch of relief. This time laced with equal parts joy and lust.

All she had was instinct to fallback on. And the illustrious Dr. Wells was afraid to trust herself to get it right. This she had to get exactly right.

Helena reached over and squeezed Myka's hand a gesture that was accompanying an innocent, "I was going to make myself a brew. Care to join me?"

Myka squeezed back and lifted the both of them to their feet. "I'd love a cup." Helena led the taller woman to the kitchen. Both of them choosing to forget to let go of the other's hand. And there they were making tea. Standing a little too close to each other. Placing hands on hips gratuitously as they slid past to reach the kettle, caressing a forearm lightly as one went to grab the tin of tea. They weren't crossing any lines. Not really.

They were leaning against the counter turned facing each other as the water boiled. Helena reached over to tuck a stray curl behind Myka's ear. Her hand lingering there. Nothing scandalous. Nothing at all really. Not even when Myka leaned into her hand.

Myka bit her bottom lip again. Helena's were slightly parted. The kettle continued to boil over. They had to get this exactly right. Exactly right.