THE STAIRCASE
By Red Charcoal
CHAPTER 25: IT'S NOT A DATE
Emma swallowed hard when she glanced at the clock. Mandy had bowed out a little while ago with a wicked grin and a swift hug, leaving the blonde to pace, fidget and fret. She wished she still had Regina's cell number, because she would have texted her a panicked bail-out message several times over by now.
The knock was sharp and authoritative. Some things never change. Emma picked up a small elegant green case with a gold link-chain strap, and headed for the door. She stared at the solid wood with chipped paint for a beat, swallowed again and then flung it open.
Her jaw dropped.
Regina Mills wore a tailored black suit. Underneath was a silky white button-up dress shirt, and a silk midnight black tie, knotted but roguishly hanging a little loose. Her hair was slicked back. She gave a half smile and leaned casually against the door frame, one hand sliding into her pocket. Her exotic cologne invaded Emma's senses and made her entire body thrum with approval. She wished she could scowl at her traitorous body and tell it to quit reacting like a teenage girl.
"Why Miss Swan," came a familiar, amused drawl, "Don't you look stunning."
Regina's eyes flickered over her body, following the green swish of fabric and lengthy flash of leg as Emma straightened, and the insanely plunging cleavage. Brown eyes lingered a moment there before sliding back up to the blonde's slowly reddening face.
"Uh, thanks," Emma said, "You too. You look ..." Her hand waved up and down in front of Regina's stunning suit, "Like an actress from some old Hepburn movie or something."
"Are you calling me old, my dear?" Regina cocked an amused eyebrow. "Because I feel rather young tonight. And daring."
She smiled then, wide and genuine, perfect white teeth on display, and Emma's brain completely short fused. She was unable to think of a single thing to say.
"Not old," she finally gasped out after an eternity as she grimly looked down at her heels, away from those watching eyes. "Never old."
"Glad to hear it, my dear. Shall we?" She offered an arm to Emma like a perfect British gentleman and the blonde stared at it for a moment before sighing. She wrapped her fingers around the crook of the arm and mentally shook her head. She had already failed Mandy's only mission rule of not letting a single sexy finger of Regina's touch her.
She felt the mayor's warmth emanating from the jacket sleeve under her fingers. She realised the fabric was expensive and the suit probably personally made by some high-end tailor. She shouldn't have been surprised. Regina Mills always had impeccable taste in clothes.
Regina lead her down the stairs, and Emma got another whiff of her intoxicating scent. Regina Mills was going to be the death of her. Of that she had no doubt.
The dinner had been superb. Emma had no words for half the food that had appeared in front of her - Regina had insisted on ordering "something special" for her. But she knew fine food when she tasted it, and the colourful little plates of French fare had been astonishing - flavours dancing across her tongue, forcing her to find new words for saying "shit that was good". All the while Regina offered her small, pleased smiles, and kept the courses coming with subtle nods to their waiter.
All evening they had talked but only tiptoed around the real issues. Regina had told Emma about what Henry was up to - not much more than their son had already shared with her in their emails. She had nodded as though it were news to her.
And Emma had told the mayor a little bit about her work, and in the process, she had discovered she was not nearly so hard to find as she imagined.
"I just made enquiries with the first Boston bail bondsman I could find as to whether he might know of any women doing his line of work," Regina explained, her eyes dancing merrily. "You are apparently known in your field as 'that hot blonde babe down on Fourth'. So don't blame me if you're too memorable for your own good." Regina had folded her linen serviette, placing it on the table and gave a smile.
"Really, dear, I found you in less than a week. Which means either I am particularly adept at your line of work, or bail bondsmen in Boston are a bunch of oversexed misogynistic individuals. Which do you believe is true?"
Emma couldn't hold back her grin. "Probably a bit of both," she said and then laughed. Regina watched her and an unreadable expression crossed her face.
"I've missed that," came a soft voice.
"Huh?'' Emma stopped laughing at the earnestness.
"Your laugh. Your smile. You looking happy. Well, you, really, if you must know."
"Regina, I ... we... We... can't."
"No," Regina said rising, shooting her a small smile. "We're not having that conversation yet. Besides first you promised me I could take you dancing. And it would be a shame to waste that dress, don't you think?"
Emma swallowed as she identified the frankly appreciative way Regina was focusing on her curves again. She had to remind herself of who she was and what she had done to her. The memory of the tears shed. Of leaving a life she had grown to love. It washed over her and she stood suddenly.
"Fine," she said coldly. The tone, out of nowhere, brought up Regina's head sharply. Confusion flickered across the brunette's face but then it was gone, the frowns and creases ironed out as a mask of perfect politeness dropped into place. Her politician face. Emma remembered it well.
"Have I caused offense dear?'' she asked quietly, as Emma grabbed for her green handbag and shouldered it. It swung viciously from the force of her motion.
"Just remembering some things, Regina," Emma replied curtly. "It's good to remember. You know?"
She didn't wait for an answer and stalked away from the table, leaving Regina to sort out their bill and follow her. She felt eyes on her. Watching.
She used those minutes alone on the street to try and gather herself and calm the confusion of memories competing for space in her head. Regina Mills - in full seductive mode - was a hard woman to hate. But she was trying her best.
She sensed Regina before she saw her as the restaurant door opened then closed.
For a moment the silence was awkward. Already Emma missed the easy companionship she'd just been sharing with Regina, but she knew she was also right. One evening of small talk could never erase their stormy, messed up past.
"Emma," Regina said quietly, "We can never forget, it's true. But a person can make new memories."
The blonde stared at her. "Is that why you are here?"
"Soon," Regina gave a mysterious half smile. "First - dancing."
The club Regina had selected for them proved elegant and discreet, as sophisticated well-heeled female couples glided around a dance floor, and the pianist, the ludicrously named Miss Understood, was actually fairly accomplished at her ivory tickling.
Eyes watched them the moment they stepped in the club, and Emma knew that probably had a lot to do with the sheer sexuality and sensuality oozing from her date. Regina in a suit was a divine look and if Emma hadn't known who she was, she would have watched her enter with her jaw on the floor, too.
Regina's arm slid protectively around Emma's waist and she led her down to the sunken dance floor.
"Ready?" she husked, and without waiting for her response, slipped her into her arms.
Emma gasped at the flood of sensations that bolted through her body. She stopped counting after arousal, confusion and longing became her muddied emotional cocktail.
She could feel her heart thumping wildly as Regina sure-footedly led them around the floor accompanied by some aching French love song.
Mayor Mills was a sublime dancer. She'd kept that well hidden. Emma, fortunately, thanks to moonlighting as an exotic dancer a few years back to catch a perp, had some seriously impressive moves of her own that she hadn't unleashed in years. If ever there was a time.
She glimpsed Regina's impressed look as she identified Emma's talent was far above the ordinary and couldn't help the surge of pride.
They meshed superbly on the dance floor. Now a different French melody began to play - slower this time - and Regina gentled their pace, gathering Emma more tightly to her until their breasts were brushing. It would have been suffocating from anyone else but Emma felt her own resolve weaken, well aware her body was screaming it was exactly where it wanted to be. Where it had always wanted to be.
"What are you thinking?" the brunette asked. Eyes sought out green. Her expression was genuinely curious.
Emma forced herself not to blush and searched her mind for something neutral. "Why is French the theme for our evening?" she finally responded, a little taken aback when Regina's soft cheek slid daringly against her own. They were so close their breaths were mingling. It was profoundly erotic.
"No reason," her dance partner husked. "I thought you might like the cuisine. And the music at this club was not specified in that guide book."
Emma processed that, feeling the warmth of Regina's fingers now slide across the small of her back, where her dress scooped down low, their bare skin touching for the first time.
"I really do love this dress," Regina whispered into the shell of her ear. "I never would have picked you for a daring diva look."
"And I wouldn't have thought you'd go all Marlene Dietrich to give Boston's lesbians a thrill. But here you are. And no one in this club can tear their eyes off you."
A low rich laugh rumbled in Regina's chest and Emma felt it as though it were in her own.
"Oh, my dear, don't you know? It's you they're all looking at. I am getting the dagger looks. They wish they were me. They are desperately jealous. They all want to go home with you tonight."
Emma started and flicked her eyes around the room. OK, Regina might have been half right. Her date was getting some baleful stares amid the appreciative ones. She paused.
Wait, this wasn't a date.
Then Regina's final words registered. She arched back in the brunette's arms. "This is what you think? That I am going home with you tonight?'' Her eyebrow arched up accusingly. At Regina's rapidly collapsing expression, Emma took another step back and held her hands up. "You have rocks in your head if you think I am that easy to manipulate."
"Emma, wait. No," Regina said sharply. "Please." Her tone instantly became soft. "Come and sit down. That's not what I thought. Please."
She looked at her with such sincerity Emma sighed and nodded sharply, unable to wipe the distrustful expression from her face.
They found a table in a dark corner, lit only by a small candle burning in a red glass jar. Emma ran her finger up the outside of it, mesmerised by the flame. And the woman who sat on the other side of it.
Regina's skin seemed to glow a burnished orange under the flame. Her eyes were huge, dark, hypnotising.
"I came for a couple of reasons," Regina began softly, eyes flicking up to Emma's then glancing down at her twisting hands. "I have been getting help for my ... for everything. I have. And I see clearly now, where my choices led me. Where they led you. That day - when I didn't open the door. Didn't... I let you leave without explaining. And I cannot tell you how sorry I am. It was a mistake. One of many. Too many."
She flicked a gaze up at the blonde, but Emma stared back, giving nothing away. Inside, though, she felt her heart hammer. Regina had just apologised. Something she thought Hell would freeze over before she'd ever hear.
Regina swallowed and glanced down at the table's flickering flame. Her voice dropped to little more than a whisper. "I came because I wanted to ask you something."
There was a pause and if the blonde didn't know any better she would say the mayor was suddenly anxious.
"What?" Emma said, her mouth so dry she had to repeat the question. "What do you want to ask?"
"Well that question ... in a minute. First there's something else."
Regina reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out an ivory-coloured envelope and slid it across the table. She looked up and locked brown eyes with green.
"I was really hoping you'd come to the wedding."