See disclaimer in Chapter 1. Chapter 2, Old Friends by Vplasgirl
Chapter 2 - Old Friends
The distant call of a sparrow and the faint rustle of a harbor breeze through the trees echoed in the silence on the terrace. Sara was the first to recover—if one could call it that. With a muttered, "Excuse me," she spun around and went back inside.
"You two know each other?"
Gil blinked and dragged his gaze to Dan. "Oh. Yes." He swallowed and drew in a short breath. "Excuse me. I'll, uh—" He made a vague gesture in the general direction of the open patio door before leaving Dan, who looked almost as stunned as Gil felt, and Billy, who'd forgotten all about his favorite dip and was eyeing him suspiciously, to follow Sara inside.
He entered into a great room and stopped short as if he had run into a wall. Which, figuratively, he had. A stranger to the space and in many ways to Sara, he had no way of knowing where she would go for a reprieve from the shock of finding him in her back yard after all these years. His own body was still shaking from the unexpected encounter, making him haul calming breaths deeply into his lungs as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the muted light of the room.
The great room was open clear to the front foyer and wrapped around a dark oak staircase. Soft footfalls fell on the bare treads and Gil tensed, but then relaxed when he saw the young woman rounding the corner at the foot of the stairs.
"Can I help you?" Her tone was pleasant, her voice welcoming.
"I'm—" Gil assumed this was the Steph Dan had spoken to earlier and was about to introduce himself when he realized his name would mean nothing to her. "I'm with Dan. I'm looking for Sara."
"Oh, you're Dan's writer friend. Sara told me we might have another guest. Did you look in the kitchen?"
Gil followed her gaze toward the solid-oak door on his right, and gave her a quick nod. "Thank you."
"My pleasure," she said, and then continued through one of the two French doors flanking an imposing stone fireplace, into a sun lit room.
Gil hauled in a breath and took tentative steps in the opposite direction. He entered the kitchen quietly.
Sara was standing at the sink, her back turned to the door. Gil could feel her tension in the way she held herself, her shoulders slumped forward, her hands fisted on either side of the sink, and in the dejected slant of her head.
The door swung noiselessly behind him and for a moment he just stood there, studying her. His gaze traveled upward from her long, tanned legs, to the gentle curve of her hips and her trim waist, and finally to her thick, dark hair, which she now wore in a slightly shorter style. And her body was curvier, softer, than he remembered.
But he still felt the old pull of attraction.
And so much more.
More than mere physical attraction. Emotions, inexplicable and deep, and so overpowering that they had zapped his will to resist her six years ago. These emotions were still there, he realized, every one of them still eating away at him, exciting him, and devastating him in equal measure. And another that had not been there before she left Las Vegas. Anger.
In an extraordinary effort at self-preservation, he steeled himself against them all and took a small step forward, then stopped when her shoulders rose and fell with a long breath that filled the silence in the room.
"Well, you were unexpected," she said before turning around to look at him.
| MAY 2005 |
"Well, this was unexpected. Why did you wait so long?"
"Because I knew if we started this, I wouldn't be able to stop."
"And you want it to stop?"
"Yes…but, God help me, right now, I need you."
| PRESENT DAY |
Sara's chin tilted up. "Dan said you're a writer."
Gil nodded. "Among other things. He told me you're a photographer…a very talented one."
A ghost of a smile touched Sara's lips. "Among other things." And then her lips pursed in the way they did when she was teasing him, and despite his resolve to remain immune to her, something fluttered in his chest.
Their gazes locked, and before the temptation to look away, to hide from her, overwhelmed him, Gil drew a huge breath and said, "I'm sorry if this is awkward for you. I'd leave, but I'm afraid that would be more awkward for Dan."
"I don't want you to leave. I was just…surprised. I'm fine now." And, confirming the sincerity of her words, Sara went to the refrigerator, took out a platter piled high with steaks, and handed it to him. "Would you mind carrying some of the food out?"
"Not at all."
Next she gave him a dish of shitake mushroom, and then turned back to the refrigerator for a bowl of Romaine lettuce and the rest of the makings of a Caesar salad.
Gil followed her out to the terrace where Dan was pouring the wine.
"I got the barbecue going," Dan said after directing a concerned glance at them. "You can put those there, Gil," he said, indicating the wrought iron baker's rack next to the grill.
Sara set the salad on the table and ruffled a scowling Billy's hair. "I've got some fresh lemonade for you in the fridge if you want some."
"'Kay." He got up and, with his eyes on his sneakers, dragged his feet inside.
"What's with him?" Sara asked Dan.
He shrugged. "Who knows? He's a teenager. He has more moods than a woman."
"Hey!" Having expected Sara's reaction, Dan had already playfully ducked. "Be careful or you'll end up on dishes duty."
Dan laughed.
Inwardly frowning, Gil put the platters on the rack and joined them at the table. He took the glass of wine Dan offered.
Raising his glass, Dan said, "To old friends."
As they drank to the toast, Sara gave Gil a fleeting look over the rim of her glass.
"So you two know each other," Dan mused. "How—"
His question was cut short when Billy came back with the young woman Gil had spoken to earlier.
"Sara, I'm on my way if there's nothing else," she said. "The last load of laundry is in the dryer, and I managed to get that reservation for Josh and Brent. They said not to expect them back early tonight."
"Thanks, Steph. Before you go, I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine." Sara looked unwaveringly at Gil for the first time since leaving the kitchen. "Stephanie is a student at Harvard Medical School, and my right hand here during the summer."
"And this is her last one," Dan remarked with undisguised pride.
"Dan is one of Stephanie's professors," Sara explained. "She'll be beginning her residency next summer. Steph, this is Gil Grissom."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."
"Gil, please. And the pleasure's mine."
She reached across the table and shook his hand then to Sara, said, "I aired the Attic Room and made up the bed."
"The 'Attic Room'. Jeez! You and Dan…"
Dan winked at Stephanie and, nodding his approval, mouthed, "The Attic Room."
Sara noticed and sent him a good-natured scowl, then smiled at Stephanie. "Have fun tonight."
"Thanks. I intend to."
Billy, who couldn't have made his lack of interest in the adults' conversation more blatant, suddenly brightened up. "Are you going out with that guy with the motorcycle?"
"I am."
Dan raised a brow. "Again?" he asked, and he seemed about to say something else when Billy interrupted.
"Dad, I so want a trail bike. Please…"
A resounding "No," came from Dan and Sara. Then Dan chuckled and shook his head. "Billy, I told you we'd talk about it when you're old enough for a driver's license. Until then, your eighteen-speed will have to do."
"I wouldn't go on the roads…just the bush trails."
"Billy…" Dan started in a warning tone. It was obviously not the first time father and son had had this discussion; and obviously not the first time in Sara's presence.
"Fine." Billy plopped down into a chair and rebelliously crossed his arms over his chest.
"Well…I'm off," Stephanie said. "It was nice meeting you Gil. Sara, I'll see you at eight tomorrow morning."
"Have fun," Dan said jovially enough, but Gil detected a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
Stephanie must have heard it as well, for she sent him a dark look. "Thanks."
They were all quiet for a moment after Stephanie left. Dan stared at the swirling liquid in his glass as he rotated it in tight circles on the tablecloth. Billy's adolescent features were still drawn into a scowl. Sara was pensive, her dark eyes touching on nothing specific, but carefully avoiding Gil, who was trying to understand the subtext between them all.
He was very aware of his own dour mood in this suddenly introspective little group. If seeing Sara again had not unbalanced him enough, her easy and affectionate relationship with Dan had. He would never begrudge Dan anything, but as his imagination conjured up images of an intimate relationship between the two people he had felt closest to over the years, he was afflicted with a surge of possessiveness toward Sara.
In a rush to douse an uncomfortable spark of jealousy, Gil sat back and complimented Sara on Summerhouse.
"Thanks. It took a while, but I'm happy with the results. And it's a good summer business."
"What do you do in the winter?"
Her lips twisted wryly. "Renovate. This old place needed a lot of work before I could open it to the public. I did as soon as I had the common areas and two suites ready. It took me two years. After that, I could only work on the other rooms after the close of season. The room that you're—the Attic Room,"she quickly amended, "is the last of it."
"You're going away this winter," Billy, who was sitting on her left, stated sourly.
Sara gave him a gentle smile. "Yep. Going to miss me, buddy?"
Billy slumped in his chair and rested his left cheek on his fist as his right shoulder inched up in an unconvincing shrug. "You won't be here at Thanksgiving or Christmas." Sadness overshadowed the accusation in the boy's voice.
"I'll send your gifts."
"Won't be the same," he mumbled.
Sara glanced at Dan. "No, it won't be."
"Where are you going?" Gil asked abruptly.
"South America."
Surprised, his eyes opened wide. "Why South America?"
"I've never been."
"Sara spent time in Central America before she moved here. She's working her way south," Dan explained.
"You went to Central America after—"
Sara nodded.
"Where? How long?"
She almost looked defiant as she answered, "For the most part, Nicaragua." Then, after the briefest of hesitation, added, "I was there six months."
"And you were backpacking it through the jungle all that time?"
Her dark eyes flashed. "Excuse me?"
| JUNE 2005 |
"Have you heard from Sara yet?"
Gil sighed, shook his head. "She's still not responding to my emails."
"Well," Catherine said, "maybe she changed her account."
"If the account no longer existed, I'd be getting 'undeliverable' messages back from the server. She's ignoring us, Catherine. I think it's time we accept that she's gone—for good."
"We?"
"Okay. It's time I accept it."
| PRESENT DAY |
Gil wanted to know why she had ignored his emails, but with Dan and Billy present, it was hardly the time to confront her about it. So he reined in his temper and gave her a quick never-mind shake of the head, then poured what was left of his wine down his throat.
As soon as he returned the glass to the table, Dan refilled it. "I'm more and more intrigued. How did you two meet?"
Aware of Billy's laser-sharp scrutiny, Gil happily let Sara fill in the blanks for Dan. In truth, he was more than a little intrigued that she hadn't mentioned her past as a Vegas CSI to them. If she had, Dan would have guessed they knew each other a long time ago.
Meeting her eyes, Gil raised a challenging brow.
"I attended one of…Gil's lectures at Berkeley a few years ago," she said, referring to him by his Christian name for the first time in twelve years. Even in their most intimate moments she had called him Grissom or Gris. He noticed her slight hesitation, then the deliberate way she said it, as if demarcating their relationship between the now and then. But he didn't have time to over-analyze her rationale for, without missing a beat, she added, "I'm more interested in how you two met."
"Gil used to date my sister."
Her eyes flickered to Gil. "Melanie?"
Dan chuckled. "Go figure, right?"
Sara frowned. "Yeah, I guess."
Feeling the need to defend himself, Gil said, "She was—" and couldn't think of a way to finish that thought in Sara's presence.
"Stacked, Gil. Or do you prefer 'buxom'."
Gil sent Dan a dangerous look. "Thanks."
"Anytime, my friend."
Sara fixed Gil with a soft, contemplative look, but said nothing. In the ensuing silence, Gil noticed Dan looking at Sara in a similar way, and knew that her quick change of subject had not fooled him. He would have questions, many questions for both of them, and preferring the third degree later rather than now, Gil was relieved when Billy announced he was hungry.
"You're always hungry," Dan said, glancing at his watch. "But I suppose I should get those steaks on the grill." He went over to the barbecue, calling back, "How do you want yours done, Gil?"
"Rare."
"Sara likes hers medium rare, Dad."
"I know how Sara likes hers, son.
Gil threw Sara a stunned look. "Sara?" With deliberate calm she met his gaze directly. "You eat meat now?"
She shrugged. "It didn't seem fair to dismiss an entire animal species because of a pig."
Amused, Gil smiled, but he was inwardly frowning at the changes in her. He wondered which Sara was real; the one he had known for twelve years, or the woman sitting across the table from him now, a teasing smile on her lips, a challenging look in her dark eyes, both of which faltered when Dan turned from the grill, brow raised.
"You were a vegetarian, Sara?"
"For a while."
Dan considered this for a moment, but didn't pursue the matter. He refocused on the steaks while Gil and Sara exchanged a conspiratorial glance. Six years apart hadn't completely killed their ability to occasionally read each other's thoughts, and their thoughts were clearly communicating that it was time once again to change the subject.
"So, kiddo, find yourself a girlfriend yet?"
Groaning, Billy dropped his forehead to the table. With a laugh, Sara playfully ruffled his dark curls.
XXXXX
DINNER WAS PLEASANT, if a little stressful for Gil. Billy's sullen mood—which Dan and Sara ignored with outward aplomb—was bothering him. He felt the boy's dislike every time he had Sara's attention, which was pretty much all the time. Sara was a good hostess. She asked about his new position at Harvard and the book he was writing, and after a couple of brief, obscure responses about the book, she steered the conversation in yet another direction. She told him the history of the house, the condition she found it in when she inherited, and recounted some of her more entertaining renovation stories. By the time they finished a light desert of strawberry sorbet, no one would have guessed there had ever been any tension between them.
But it was still there for Gil, like a constant knot in his belly. He was supremely aware of her, as though they were physically connected. He could feel her, every shift in her body, every breath she took. It was disorienting, and he had to constantly be on his guard, force himself to focus on the conversation. And then, in an unguarded moment, he glanced up at her and caught her studying him between her thick lashes, her gaze dark and intense, and it knocked the breath from him.
Sara blushed and her eyes flickered away. Flustered, Gil asked where the bathroom was.
"First door on the right as you go in," she said, and then glancing at her watch, she rose to her feet and started gathering the dirty dishes. "Would you like a tour of the place?"
"Sure," Gil said, his voice only faltering slightly as he recalled Dan's suggestion that he stay at Summerhouse for the summer. What had seemed like an ideal solution to a problem earlier was now a problem in itself.
"I'll meet you inside in a couple of minutes," Sara said as she continued stacking dishes.
Dan got up and stilled her hands. "You go ahead and leave these to me."
"I'll go with Sara," Billy said.
"Not so fast young man," Gil heard Dan say as he entered the house. "You're going to help with the dishes."
Billy's disagreeable, "Da-ad," was the last Gil heard of the conversation as he locked himself in the small bathroom, and stayed there longer than necessary while trying to get his bearings. He finally let himself out when he heard the clattering of dishes and Dan's distant voice from the kitchen. Sara joined him from the front hall desk and immediately assumed her 'hostess of the manor' role.
"That powder room is a new addition," she explained. "Originally, this was all part of the kitchen, right up to the patio doors. I didn't need such a large kitchen, but I did need a larger living room, so I opened up the space to create this great room."
Sara palmed a tall, round column, painted white and with decorative trim at its base and top. "Unfortunately this was a load-bearing wall, which is why we added these columns. I wasn't thrilled about breaking up the room in the beginning, but I like it now. It gave me two spaces to work with. There's a television in every room, but the guests like to come down here to watch sometimes, or play board games, and it doesn't interfere with the people who prefer more quiet." Gil followed her past the columns and the patio door into the other section of the room. With a sweep of her hand, Sara indicated the old grand piano. "We're sometimes lucky enough to have a guest who plays and the others gather 'round to listen. It's turned into some fun evenings."
"Do you play?"
She looked at him and then twisted her lips in a grimace. "Not well."
"Hmm… Somehow I can't imagine you doing anything badly."
Sara blushed at the compliment. She threw him a bashful look and thanked him, then hauled in an audible breath before continuing on her tour, leading him through the French door on the left side of the fireplace.
"This is also a new addition," she said of the screened-in porch that ran the depth of the house. "You'll notice that the eaves extend out quite a bit. It keeps the rain out as long as there's no wind blowing it in. All the furniture in here is water proof just in case." She let her hand trail over the back of a rattan armchair as she crossed the room past the protruding stone wall to the second French door on the other side of the chimney.
Gil looked closely at the door as they crossed the threshold back into the great room, noticing that it was an exterior door. "You close it up in the winter?"
"Yes. I replace all the screens with windows and shut it up. It cuts on heating costs. I don't need the extra space in the winter anyway." They crossed the room to the front entry where an antique desk sat perpendicular to the door. Other than a small bell, a laptop computer, and a telephone, the dark wood surface was bare. "Here," Sara continued, pointing towards an arch in the wall near the front entrance "is the dining room." She flipped the light-switch and an imposing antique chandelier came to life setting the ceiling ablaze.
"Wow."
Sara smiled. "It's real, and original to the house," she said of the gleaming copper ceiling. Its intricate design gave the room a rustic elegance. "It had fifty years of accumulated grime on it."
"You restored it yourself?"
"Yes."
"I'm impressed."
She blushed again and pointed to a wood paneled door at the far end of the large room. It said 'Private' in small brass letters. "Through there is the kitchen. Unlike many B&Bs I prefer to keep it off-limits to guests."
He followed her out of the dining room up the central staircase. "Why?"
"A couple of reasons, but mainly because my bedroom is right off the kitchen. Plus, as you saw earlier, it's not very big, so I don't want people getting in the way when I'm getting breakfast ready."
"You only serve breakfast?"
She nodded. "Yes."
At the top of the stairs, she turned right down a long corridor. As in the rest of the house, the floors were a dark, rich hardwood. A long antique rug ran the length of it, muting their footsteps. At the end of the corridor was a set of glass-paneled doors that opened onto a small balcony atop the front portico. He imagined it would let in a lot of light during the day. Decorative wall sconces next to each room dimly illuminated the hallway now.
"I won't be able to show you the rooms since they're all occupied," she said. "There are four of them on this floor, each with an en-suite bathroom."
This surprised Gil. "It must have cost you a small fortune in plumbing."
"It did. Nothing I would have been able to afford if I'd had to buy the house. I took a mortgage on it and hired an architect to redesign the space. This whole floor was gutted. Originally, there were six decent-sized bedrooms and one very large bathroom."
She opened the last door at the end of the hall and flipped the light switch which simultaneously started an exhaust fan. It was a small, windowless room, not much bigger than an average walk-in closet. A bar-sized refrigerator, a mini water cooler, a microwave oven, a coffee maker, and a toaster filled the wall of counter space.
"That's how I can keep guests out of the kitchen," Sara said with a smile.
Standing close to her in the doorway, Gil noticed that not everything about Sara had changed. Her hair still carried a light musky scent, captured and held in a halo of semi-sweet, semi-tart citrus, a fragrance which was utterly feminine and uniquely her. He knew her scent intimately; his body had responded to it well before his scientific mind had processed the power of pheromones and their addictive quality. Sara's scent was like a drug to him, one he had resisted with difficulty for a long time, and then having tasted, had been deprived of for six years.
Their gazes locked and for a moment, Gil felt lightheaded. He felt her on a physical rather than emotional plane now, aware of her long legs, smooth skin, and taut, curvy behind. He remembered how her naked body had melded to his, the feel of her breasts crushed against his chest, the taste of her, and the euphoria he had experienced between her soft thighs.
Before her, he had only known of such ecstasy from books, and he ached for it again. He ached for her so badly that he shoved his hands deep into his pockets to stop himself from touching her.
Sara inhaled sharply and switched off the light. Gil took a step back as she closed the door abruptly then turned and crossed the hall to another door. She took a key out of the right pocket of her denim shorts and said in a businesslike tone, "This is the Eagle's Nest suite. It's yours if you want it."