Part 4
Miranda blew air through her nose in displeasure as she sat in her chair brooding. She felt as if she had gotten nothing done. Every time she reviewed photographs or scoured through the Book Andrea's round, teary eyes intruded. The girl was too good to be true. No agenda other than to be with her? Ridiculous. How could she believe that? Andrea had the ability to hurt her, ruin her even, if Miranda allowed the younger woman to invade her life any more than she had. If Miranda had any sense left, she would run far, far away and forget the day she'd ever met the disruptive girl. It seemed, however, that her good sense had abandoned her.
Closing her eyes and pressing against the corners with her thumbs, Miranda attempted to vanquish her wayward thoughts. Images of their shared kisses pushed to the front of the agitated woman's mind relentlessly. She relived how Andrea's lips had tasted, how much she had wanted to lose herself during those few blissful moments of physicality. What Andrea offered was exhilarating. Miranda knew she would be foolish to ignore the possibility of happiness, even in light of her past romantic failures.
For a few moments she had felt complete. Those kisses. Miranda couldn't help but hope the kisses had meant as much to Andrea as they had to her. Even during those few moments she had been unable to control herself. She'd meant to deliver a chaste kiss, just enough to communicate that she did care about Andrea and that she regretted the words she had said when they were last together. Yet once their lips had connected, all thoughts of propriety had left. The girl had tasted so good. Too good.
Andrea would be her undoing. No. It was already too late. The truth was that Andrea had single-handedly defeated her, reducing an independent, self-sufficient, career woman to a needy, love-sick idiot with ease. I'm pathetic. My doom is sealed. Miranda smiled humorlessly.
I am not in love, Miranda firmly instructed herself. Yet, her heart whispered other words.
No matter how she tried to deny it, there was no turning back, no forgetting how perfect holding Andrea had felt. Insecurities gnawed at the edges of Miranda's mind. It would take time for them to fade away completely, but the obvious changes Andrea had experienced during their separation helped. Miranda sensed a maturity, a worldliness about Andrea that had been missing last year. Oh, the girl still seemed too optimistic, too naïve, but those qualities were tempered, balanced out by some hard-earned life lessons. Miranda was curious to find out what Andrea had experienced during their time apart. She wanted to know everything about the girl. Moreover, she wanted to reveal herself to Andrea. Just acknowledging these desires seemed to assure her fate. She'd lost her heart to the younger woman.
Recognizing the depth of her feelings did nothing to reduce Miranda's fear. She was scared. More than scared, she was terrified. It didn't help that her hands were tied until the divorce became final.
At least that part of her life was moving forward. With the proof of his infidelity in hand, Miranda's attorneys had ripped Stephen's absurd demands apart. Next week should prove to be the last time Miranda would have to set eyes on the loathsome excuse for a man. To think she used to share a life with him. Miranda felt bile rise in her throat. Well, soon he would be a bad memory. An example of why listening to her mind's rational directives needed to be overruled by her heart's guidance.
Turning her chair toward the row of windows, the editor sighed. She felt restless. In another week she could see Andrea. In fact, the email she'd received this morning had begun her unscheduled trip down memory lane. Andrea had formally requested an interview to follow up her original story. Miranda would grant the request, of course. She wanted to see the girl. Ached to see her. The prospect of waiting another week after months of introspection chafed. Miranda wanted to see the reporter now. This minute. She needed to feel that mouth, that body again. This simply will not do. Shaking her head in frustration, Miranda forcefully pushed aside her wayward thoughts to concentrate on her work. One week.
Miranda slowed her gait when she saw Andrea sitting near the back of the courtroom busily taking notes on the hearing's results. When the girl looked up, Miranda felt as if she'd been sucker punched. "Andrea," Miranda drawled. She studied the girl closely noting the weight-loss and sunken eyes. Had she done this to the girl? Feeling contrite, Miranda warred with herself. They had arranged to go to lunch, but Miranda no longer wished to share the younger woman with the public. Too many prying eyes. Andrea looked so cautious, so guarded that Miranda knew she needed to make amends. "Come."
Once in the car, Miranda said one word to Roy. "Home." She ignored Andrea's gasp of surprise.
Perhaps it was time to take Andrea at her word and to give her a real chance to prove Miranda wrong. So far, the girl had been nothing but truthful, kind, and devoted. What would be so wrong with behaving in kind? Miranda knew she had so much to give if she felt so inclined. If she could defeat her negative thoughts and baseless assumptions. She wanted to give into these feelings. She wanted to enjoy the euphoria of knowing she had someone who cared for her, regardless of her business acumen or fashion persona. At the end of the day, she wanted to be just Miranda and to be loved for it. She could see that with Andrea, it was all possible.
Sliding toward Andrea, Miranda raised the girl's hand and gently kissed the knuckles. Intertwining their fingers, the editor placed them on her lap before whispering, "Okay?"
"Yes," she heard, a word that was uttered quietly but resounded loudly.
Flashes of the way she had treated Andrea at the gala taunted her. She had behaved abhorrently. The girl had become so distraught it had broken Miranda's heart.
It was time to mend fences.
Once they arrived, Miranda reluctantly released her hold and proceeded to the townhouse. Not giving any indication of her plans, Miranda led the girl into the sitting room. After getting them situated with drinks, she asked, "You have questions for me?"
After a stunned silence, Andrea began the interview. Miranda was impressed with the girl's forthright manner. Forty minutes later, Andrea became silent. Understanding they were done, Miranda said, "Wait here," and left the room.
Unbeknownst to most people, Miranda was capable of cooking. The editor had plenty of food in the house and, no doubt, a hungry reporter nervously wondering why she had been directed to wait. She quickly pulled together the ingredients for Italian sandwiches and returned to Andrea. Observing the girl's shocked expression, Miranda smirked. "I did agree to a working lunch." She passed a plate to Andrea and sat next to her. Without further ado, Miranda began eating her sandwich silently. It felt good to just sit in the same room with Andrea.
"Why haven't you been eating?" Miranda asked as she watched the girl wolf down the sandwich. She acts like this is the first meal she's eaten in months. Miranda flinched as she realized that might very well be true.
Andrea looked up, startled. Chewing more slowly, the reporter stared at Miranda blankly. "I've been eating," she claimed.
Miranda made a show of studying the girl's body, her eyes resting on startled eyes. "No, you have not," Miranda stated with certainty. "I expect you to take better care of yourself, Andrea. Do I need to check up on you?" Miranda watched with satisfaction as color suffused the girl's face. Patiently she waited for Andrea to defend herself, to refute facts her body related so plainly.
"No! I…I've had a lot on my mind." Andrea stopped her pitiful explanation as Miranda shook her head and pursed her lips. "I'll do better."
"Good. And what about your lack of sleep? You aren't going to tell me that also has to do with having a lot on your mind, are you?" Miranda continued. The editor watched Andrea hesitate before shaking her head. "It's settled, then." Miranda gentled her voice, allowing it to relay her concern. "You will eat, and you will sleep. I do not want to see you in this condition again. Do not disappoint me, Andrea." Although the words might seem harsh, her intentions stemmed from worrying for Andrea's welfare. Hopefully, Andrea would understand.
Miranda studied the beautiful girl, reacquainting herself with every coveted curve. "Andrea," she began. "I want to see you again." She attempted to control her careening emotions as she waited for Andrea to react. Andrea's eyes lit up, her posture reflecting surprise and elation. Miranda let out the breath she'd been holding.
"I'd like that, too." The girl's eyes roamed over Miranda's form, igniting a passion held at bay since their lips had first touched. The girl leaned in slowly until they were a hair's breath away from each other. "Kiss me, Miranda," she breathed.
Tucking a piece of hair behind the reporter's ear, Miranda took the time to examine Andrea's face. Closing the distance, Miranda tenderly kissed Andrea's lips.
"You haven't changed your mind?" Miranda was unsure why she was asking for reassurance. Perhaps she couldn't think straight because she was just so stunned by the possibility that Andrea wanted to be with her.
Andrea's lips traveled over her throat enchantingly as she whispered, "Never. I've lived these last few months on memories of holding you in my arms. I've missed everything about you. Even the times you'd used me as your verbal punching bag. What does that tell you?"
"You're a masochist," Miranda said softly. She reveled in Andrea's surprised look and resulting bark of laughter. Curling her lips up, Miranda leaned in once more. After several more heavenly kisses, Miranda released the girl and sat back.
"Andrea." The younger woman gazed at her with coffee-rimmed irises. Miranda could see her reflection in the girl's large, obsidian pupils. Miranda toyed with the idea of not returning to work so she could ravish this beautiful woman. Hadn't she denied herself long enough? Didn't she deserve to grab happiness when presented with the opportunity? If this were a business decision, Miranda would not hesitate. However, this was a personal decision, one that would change her life.
Mind made up, Miranda reached out as she murmured again, "Andrea." Pulling the girl into a tight embrace, the editor allowed herself to just let go. Miranda crushed her lips onto pliant ones, eagerly thrusting her tongue into the warmth of Andrea's mouth. She heard a growl, surprised to realize she had issued it. Spurred on by Andrea's moans, Miranda weaved a hand through chocolate locks as she set about plundering the treasure she had been offered. She felt desire rise thickly, burbling like magma as pressure built.
Gently the impassioned editor lowered the girl onto the cushions, her hand exploring Andrea's enticing body. As her fingers mapped Andrea's ribs, Miranda allowed her lips to slide to the girl's ear. "I have wanted you for so long. You have no idea." Miranda moved her hands to the girl's shirt, unbuttoning it as she continued. "I have dreamt of you so many times. I've found these feelings to be distracting. They were," Miranda interrupted herself to nip at the skin revealed to her greedy eyes as she opened the shirt, "inappropriate." The white-haired woman licked Andrea's chest, smiling as the girl shuddered beneath her.
"All these years in this business, and my head had never been turned by a woman." Miranda continued to learn Andrea's body as her confessions continued. "I tried to drive you away." The fashion maven lifted her head, feeling strong emotion fill her. "When I finally succeeded, it was a hollow victory." Miranda lowered her lips to a lace-clad breast and covered the nipple firmly. Licking the area as she began to suck, the editor was gratified to feel the younger woman buck in response.
"Miranda. Oh, Miranda. I'm so sorry I left." Andrea wrapped her arms around the editor, one hand holding Miranda's face closely to her chest. The other hand pushed on the small of Miranda's back in rhythm with Andrea's undulating hips. "I've dreamt of this moment. It's what has kept me going all this time. I need you so much. So much." Andrea broke off as a cry broke free in response to Miranda's teeth grazing a sensitive nipple.
"Don't apologize. We both did a very good job of driving the other away. This is a second chance. I don't intend to waste it." Done with confessions, Miranda removed Andrea's bra and began to lavish attention on the other breast.
Through a haze of desire, Miranda heard a phone ringing. Determined to ignore it, the editor was surprised to feel Andrea stiffening under her, then pushing her to sit up. Dazed, Miranda watched Andrea answer her phone. This is not happening. She is not getting up. She is not fastening her bra and buttoning her shirt.
Andrea sat down next to Miranda as the editor wondered how events had, once again, spiraled out of control. "Andrea?" Was she really going to leave? Now? Unacceptable!
"I'm sorry, Miranda. I'm still on the clock. I have to get back." Andrea rubbed Miranda's back in soothing circles. "I'd like to continue this. Soon. What you were doing to me, how you made me feel—I hate having to leave." Miranda could see the truth in the girl's eyes, but that didn't help her feel better. Miranda took some deep breaths to slow her heartbeats. To bite back her frustration.
It did not work.
"Do you mean to tell me that you intend to leave? Now?" Miranda demanded, her ire clear. "Does this mean so little to you that you can casually brush it aside?" Miranda unfurled from the couch like a cat ready to pounce. A rather large, irate cat. She loomed over Andrea. "What are you playing at, Andrea?"
"I, I'm not playing at anything," Andrea said as her head pulled in like a tortoise on the defensive. "I'm the low man on the totem pole. I don't have the luxury of skipping out of work indefinitely." Andrea's hands twisted on her lap. "This," she said as she waved a hand at the couch, "this means everything to me. If I need to choose, I'll stay. I can get a job elsewhere. You are much more important—"
"Stop." Miranda's gaze swept the room as she tried to gather her thoughts. Absurd. How could she ask Andrea to skip work? To choose? Particularly knowing her own track record during previous relationships. Just because Miranda was finally ready to reprioritize did not mean Andrea was willing or even able to do so. Miranda was allowing her selfish desires to distort her common sense. She knew Andrea wanted to be with her, had felt the girl's desire. More than that, all Andrea's actions pointed toward how committed she was to the editor. Lashing out at her was immature. She had to behave better than that.
"Can we, I'd like to see you tonight. I could come by after I finish," Andrea offered timidly. Miranda noticed the girl's hopeful expression and hated having to erase it.
"No. I have a late dinner with a new designer." Miranda tapped her index finger against her lips, now feeling more in control. Truly Andrea made a mess of her equilibrium.
"I understand. I'm just, well, let's just say I'd rather we had not been interrupted." At Andrea's nod, Miranda captured the girl's lips once more before leading Andrea to her door. Stepping aside, Miranda meant to allow Andrea to leave but instead pulled the girl in closely for one more hug. Miranda whispered, "I'll talk to you soon. I promise." And Miranda knew she would. This was one promise she would keep for both their sakes.
Pensively, Miranda watched Andrea walk down the street. This girl was worth the effort. She was worth overcoming insecurities and fear. Miranda was determined to prove to the younger woman that her affections were not misplaced. The next time they were together, Miranda would make certain that she never wanted to leave.