Sorry this isn't updated. The document manager wasn't letting me upload documents etc. So this is what we're gonna do...if you want the next chapter, I want at least three reviews. I know, I'm evil like that. So I have up to like 18 chapters written and ready to go, but I want to see some reviews. I know, I'm a review whore, or something...but I know you're liking this, and if you've already read to where I am now...then go ahead and re read...lol...well have fun, I love you all and all the kind reviews you've given so far! Grazie!

Chapter 11

"Miranda, these came for you this morning." Emily's unsure, accented voice filled Miranda's office.

Miranda glanced up from the newspaper she was reading to find Emily caring a huge bouquet of brilliantly colored flowers, which covered her face so that it appeared as if it were walking into her office of its own accord.

"Who are those from?" Miranda, uncaringly, inquired, though deep down she wondered if this might be Andrea's way of saying it was 'okay'. However she was very, very wrong.

"Umm…Clinton Russell?" Emily frowned as she tried to read the card through all the flowers.

"Throw them away." Miranda disgustedly ordered, her stomach churning at the mention of his name.

Emily frowned through the flowers, about to protest, but then thought better of it and left, tossing the flowers into her waste basket.

~*~

"Miranda, do you want me to throw these away?" Emily waved the flowers at Miranda's doorway; they were slightly larger than the ones from the day before.

"Are they from him again?" Miranda distastefully asked.

Emily nodded.

"Yes, throw them away. Do you even have to ask? Are you entirely that incompetent?"

Emily didn't respond, just rushed away, tossing the second bouquet of flowers away in the trashcan.

Miranda knew what she was thinking. She knew what they all were thinking. Miranda was fucking this gorgeous man and they were all jealous.

But their line of thought could not have been further from the truth.

Emily almost looked shocked and surprised when she announced, during a list of Miranda's daily tasks, that lunch had been booked and arranged for her with Clinton, and Miranda had immediately told her to cancel.

"But he's already…"

"Did you not hear me the first time? Because I thought I was being very clear."

Emily didn't protest, just walked away and made the phone call to cancel.

~*~

It was that afternoon that Miranda narrowly missed confrontation with Clinton. He had actually had the nerve to show up at Runway and had demanded to see Miranda. Emily, completely panicked, had raced into Miranda's office, alerting her that he was there.

"Well make him go away." Miranda blandly flicked her hand in a shooing manner, as if it would make the problem just disappear.

"But he won't leave until he sees you."

"Then I guess he's going to be here for awhile." Miranda shrugged. "Oh, and Emily. Don't you dare let him walk past those lobby doors."

Emily sighed and turned. Some days she hated her job.

~*~

By eleven that night Miranda had to pull herself away from her work. She had been scared to leave Elias-Clarke that evening because she was afraid Clinton might come and whisk her away on another paparazzi filled evening. She did not want that. Instead, she wanted Andrea to find her outside, boldly step into her car with her and kiss her senseless with those sweet, soft lips she'd shared with her the weekend before.

But she knew it would not happen. Those thoughts needed to be pushed out of her mind. Andrea was pissed off at her and she had every right to be.

And so Miranda had thrown herself into her work, ignoring her daughter's pleas to watch a movie with them. She simply had too much to do. Work was the only thing that distracted Miranda from thoughts of Andrea.

~*~

Andrea lay awake in her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

She couldn't sleep, hadn't been able to since Wednesday. Miranda's unusually desperate voice kept ringing in her ears and she couldn't get the sad, broken look Miranda had given her during their Tuesday night dinner out of her head. She missed the older woman with a deep, unwavering passion that nearly pushed her to pick up the phone and call the woman.

But it was nearly midnight and she knew the editor would be in bed. Or else out fucking someone. Andrea snorted and rolled away from the nightstand where her phone sat.

Every night she'd contemplated calling Miranda and every night the thought of her fucking some guy made her stop.

She supposed she shouldn't care so much. It wasn't as if they were in a relationship. It wasn't as if they were married and Miranda had cheated on her. They had merely kissed. That was all. Perhaps Miranda hadn't realized what she'd wanted; perhaps she'd slept with the man to prove Andrea wasn't what she wanted. But that seemed so childish, even for Miranda.

But what if Miranda really didn't care for Andrea. After all, she'd only called that one day.

But then again she could be giving Andrea space.

So many ideas, scenarios played out in Andrea's head and the only thing she could think to do was ask the woman herself.

And before she realized what she had done, Miranda's voice was sleepily saying, "Hello?"

Oh crap. What to do, what to do…

"Miranda?"

"Andrea?" Miranda sounded so relieved.

"Miranda. I couldn't…I can't sleep."

Miranda made no response. Andrea could hear what sounded like blankets moving, Miranda was shifting, perhaps sitting up.

Andrea knew that Miranda wasn't going to respond, so she went on, "I've missed you," she exhaled, hearing a similar sigh of relief coming from the other end.

"Andrea you can't keep doing this to me…you can't keep…leaving." Miranda was clearly tired. She'd never make such a confession in the day, when she was in her right mind.

"I can't keep…Miranda." the girl was surprised, surprised by the honest confession, but a touch baffled at how it placed the blame on her, when really she'd meant to place the blame on Miranda. "Why did you do it?" There. She had turned the tables.

"Andrea, I can't explain my actions to you when I don't even entirely understand them myself."

But Andrea remained silent, waiting for an honest answer.

"I was weak, perhaps a bit unsure of my feelings."

"Do you have feelings for him?"

Miranda scoffed, "of course not."

"So you knew you were wrong afterwards."

"Yes," was Miranda's easy response.

"Well…"

"I'm going to bed, Miranda."

"All right." Miranda knew not to ask when they could see each other again. Trust would take time to be rebuilt between them.

But Andrea surprised her, "dinner tomorrow night?" So much for waiting a week.

"Yes."

"All right. You decide." And with that Andrea hung up, knowing if she stayed on the phone any longer she'd be begging Miranda to come over right that instant; but she still wanted Miranda to suffer. So she'd ended the conversation before it could continue.

Rolling over in her bed, she got her first decent night's worth of sleep since the whole little…relationship had begun.

~*~
Miranda shifted restlessly in her bed. Andrea wanted to see her again. She hadn't entirely cut her off. She had called, they had talked. Hearing her voice had excited her beyond her wildest imagination and it was then that Miranda knew this wasn't merely an infatuation, a passing lesbian moment. This was real.

And it scared her.

~*~
The night was dark, the trees beginning to turn apple-red and burnt orange due to the impending winter. The streets were less crowded, the cold slowly beginning to settle into the city. The street on which Miranda had chosen a restaurant to meet at was exceptionally barren. It seemed way out of the way and a place that Miranda would never, normally dine at. Andrea had arrived a little early, wanting to be the first to arrive. She strolled into the chic, urban restaurant, wondering if she'd been given the wrong address.

The inside was filled with young, gorgeous people. It was dim, dark. It had a Mediterranean feel to it and similar sounding music to match filled the conversation heavy air. But just as Andrea was beginning to doubt that Miranda had meant for them to meet at this restaurant, the silver-haired icon swooped in; and, had Andrea been standing up, she would have fallen over.

Miranda had her eyes concealed behind huge, designer glasses, which she didn't remove until she was safely seated right beside Andrea in their hidden corner booth. It was too much to ask of the younger woman to kiss her hello, and so she accepted the welcome, though timid, smile Andrea gave her.

"How are you?" Andrea inquired, feeling as if Miranda stood out like a sore thumb in the hip, young crowd. She was nearly a diamond in the ruff.

Miranda just shrugged and picked up her menu, pretending to occupy herself with trying to decide what to order.

"Why did you pick this place?" Andrea asked, hating what she was feeling sitting so close to this woman. She wanted to hate her, but instead she couldn't help but notice Miranda's strong musky, floral perfume, and the way the woman was so eloquently poised beside her, their legs inches from touching. Andrea wanted to reach out and touch her, but at the same time she wanted to chastise her.

"It's out of the way. I don't think I need any more press for quite some time." Miranda simply stated in her demure, seemingly uncaring way and Andrea wanted to smack her.

Yet at the same time, if she reached out an inch more, their hands would be touching. The mere thought sent shivers down her spine. She couldn't quite read what Miranda was feeling, but she very subtly noticed a blush creep across the older woman's cheeks when her leg accidentally collided with Miranda's.

"That's true." Andrea nearly stuttered, reaching for her glass of water, feeling suddenly very flustered and unsure. Miranda did this to her; she always managed to make her nervous, make her sweat.

She wondered if there would ever come a time when they could be completely comfortable together…

"Have you decided what you're going to order?" Miranda's sharp eyes were now fixated on the younger woman, and Andrea nearly jumped.

"No, not yet." She quickly looked away from the older woman and down at her menu.

But Miranda had other plans. She grabbed the menu away and flagged down a waiter. "I'll order for the both of us then." And she did. Whatever it was she ordered, it sounded delectable. Miranda, in her way, was taking care of her. It seemed a rather sweet gesture. Even more sweet when, after the waiter left, Miranda turned to Andrea and let a small smile grace her face. "I didn't think I'd ever hear from you again. I was worried."

Andrea was quite surprised by the remark, her stomach flipped at the thought of Miranda being worried because of her. "Well…I'm…I just needed to think about it." Andrea knew she'd have to play it calm and cool or else Miranda would get under her skin and ruin any chance of extracting a real, formal apology from her.

"Understandable." Miranda nodded. She was acting so unruffled, so certain that Andrea would forgive her.

And that almost made Andrea want to not forgive and forget. But the closeness of their bodies was just too much.

Andrea reached out and lightly allowed her finger to stroke the back of Miranda's hand. Miranda stared down at their touching bodies, as if she couldn't quite figure out what was happening. Andrea grinned at the thought of Miranda being moved by her slight touch. She let her hand fall to her side, ending their contact.

"Do you come here often?" she asked, realizing that Miranda had been quick to order. And why else would she have known about this place?

Miranda chuckled, "Oh, I've come here before."

"With your secret, mystery lovers?" It was a low blow, but Andrea felt she was allowed at least one.

But Miranda's grin didn't fade, "no, actually when I started dating Stephen we'd come here." Andrea raised an eyebrow and nodded, "no one ever seemed to recognize me here; Stephen liked that." Andrea nodded again, "and the food isn't too bad."

Andrea laughed, surprised by Miranda's subtle charm. It was easy to see why all of her past husbands had fallen for her. She was quite charming. "Do you miss him?"

"Who?" Miranda frowned, pulling her eyes away from the water glass she was twirling around in her hands.

"Stephen?" Andrea didn't know why she was asking, but the way she'd just spoken of him made Andrea, almost jealously, wonder if there were still feelings.

"Oh," she paused to form her words, shape them so they came out correctly. "In some ways I miss him, I suppose…but it's more the thought of him that I miss. I mean the word husband…it sounds so secure."

Andrea realized that Miranda didn't feel balanced. She was almost one of those people that needed someone. Andrea would never have pinned her as that kind of woman. It was an interesting revelation. She nodded and they remained silent as the waiter placed food in front of them. It looked delicious. They began to eat in silence until Andrea accidentally let some sauce drip down her chin, a chunk of chicken landing on the table, alerting Miranda to her messy eating. She felt her heart speed up, embarrassed by her clumsiness.

But she was once again surprised when Miranda laughed and pulled her napkin from her lap, wiping delicately at Andrea's chin. Andrea stared, in wonder and awe, as the woman tended to her. She couldn't believe her ex-boss was cleaning her face. And once Miranda was done wiping away the sauce, her eyes met Andrea's and the corners of her crystal blues moved upwards, her lips curling into a smile. Andrea's heart skipped a beat and she couldn't help but grin like a mad person.

Miranda shook her head and leaned forward, her lips gently brushing against Andrea's. Andrea quickly relaxed into the kiss, grinning like crazy as they kissed, their food forgotten for the moment.

"Should we be…" their lips parted only slightly through Andrea's dialogue, "doing this?...here?"

Miranda ran her tongue across Andrea's lips before responding, "no."

Andrea gasped, realizing that even though Miranda knew it was wrong for them to be kissing out in the open, she was still going to do it. And she deepened the kiss, her tongue finding its way tenderly between Andrea's slightly parted lips. Andrea let out a very quiet moan; she could feel Miranda smiling against her lips.

"Did you…think…about me?" Andrea whispered through light kisses.

"When?" Andrea's stomach churned at Miranda's breathy voice.

"When you…." Andrea laughed, "with him."

"Oh," Miranda let her lips press tightly against Andrea's, "yes."

"Yes?" Andrea broke the kiss for a second and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." Miranda closed the distance, hungry for her lips. So much for censoring herself in public, but then again they were in a back corner, the lights were dim, no one seemed to be watching…

"Yes." Miranda's lips pressed gently against the side of Andrea's lips, "I don't…" the other side, "usually," lips square on Andrea's, "do things," another kiss, "like that." Andrea nodded, allowing her hand to gently cup Miranda's cheek, mindlessly shielding them from the rest of the world. Their kiss deepened for a moment before Miranda kissed gently up to Andrea's ear and whispered, "I'm sorry."

And Andrea melted.