2. Prescription For Love

“All right.” Flann slowly leaned forward, giving Abby time to turn away. She didn’t. Flann kissed her softly, a brush of her lips over Abby’s, repeating the easy caress until Abby’s hand came to her neck again, tugging her a little closer. Flann teased her tongue over Abby’s lips until her control wavered and she was in danger of sliding her hands under Abby’s T-shirt. With another woman, she already would have. She pulled back, her vision a little blurry, the rush of blood in her ears a drumbeat of desire more potent than anything she’d ever known. “Take your time. I’ll be waiting.”

Abby’s lips parted, her pupils wide and black and a wee bit hazy. Her hand dropped from Flann’s neck. “Good.”

Flann leaned against the door and watched her disappear. Today Abby didn’t look as if she wanted to run. She looked as if she wanted to be kissed again. Flann liked that idea herself, although the usual self-satisfaction when a woman signaled she was ready for the game to begin was missing. Maybe because she wasn’t playing a game, or if she was, it was the most important one she’d ever played. Instead of feeling triumphant, she was

nervous. Hell.

She waited on the front porch in one of a pair of wicker chairs set on either side of a small round table, her feet propped on the rail, her body pleasantly simmering, the scent of Abby—some intoxicating blend of honey and sunlight—still clinging to her skin, and watched the world go by. She rarely sat, rarely even slowed down. She liked action. Harper was the one who went in for quiet contemplation. But right this moment, she was as content as she could ever remember being. The sensation was novel, and she was anything but bored. Every cell simmered with excitement.

Women like to be courted.

She didn’t have any experience with that, but she’d never run from a challenge. If that’s what it took to put that drowsy, hot look back in Abby’s eyes again, she’d give it her best.

“You look pretty comfortable there,” Abby said from the doorway.

“I am.” Flann glanced over her shoulder and her mouth went dry.

The pale yellow sundress scooped just low enough to make it abundantly clear Abby had absolutely perfect breasts. Her hair was a golden tangle on her smooth shoulders, her bare arms sleek and bronzed. The flowing skirt hinted at slender thighs, and strappy sandals called attention to her equally elegant calves. Incongruously, each toe was tipped in pale coral.

“You paint your toenails,” Flann said like an idiot.

Abby laughed. “I do. Frivolous, isn’t it?” “Sexy.”

Abby blushed. “I’ll take note of that.”

“You look fabulous.” Flann rose, chagrined. At least her jeans and white T-shirt were clean, but

Abby was beautiful. Elegant, breathtaking. “I’m not fit to be seen with you. I should change.”

“Don’t be silly. I love the way you look in jeans and a T-shirt.”

“You deserve better.” Flann knew it was true, and she wasn’t thinking about clothes.

Abby slipped her arm through Flann’s. She had a day off, she’d just been kissed by the sexiest woman she’d ever met, and she was feeling sexier than she ever had in her life. For the next few hours, she didn’t want to think of anything else. “As a matter of fact, I like you exactly the way you are.”

Coming from anyone else, Flann would have discounted the statement as flirtatious, just one more move in the game. When Abby said it, she hoped it was true. More than she’d ever imagined.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“I’m going to take you at your word about my clothes,” Flann said as she started driving north away from town. “But next time we go somewhere, I promise I won’t be wearing a T-shirt.”

Laughing, Abby rolled down her window and let the brisk morning air blow through her hair. She didn’t even care if it tangled, the breeze felt so good. The countryside stretched out on either side of the mostly empty road, rolling hills in more shades of green than she’d ever imagined. Flann swept around a bend and the river appeared, shimmering in the sun.

“God, it’s beautiful up here,” Abby said.

“You know what else?” Flann said. “You never get used to it.”

“I believe it.”

“Do you miss the city?”

“No.” Abby turned in the seat to watch Flann drive. She drove as she did everything else, a little bit fast, competently, easily. Her window was open too, and the air rushing in pressed her T-shirt tightly to her chest. Her arms and shoulders were muscular, but sculpted rather than bulky, her breasts small and neat. Abby had an urge to slide her hand underneath the hem of her T-shirt and explore Flann’s abdomen, suspecting it was flat and firm. As if reading her thoughts, Flann glanced over and her mouth quirked up at the corner. Abby almost expected her to ask if she saw something she liked, because she was certain her expression gave her away. Mercifully, Flann didn’t comment.

“So you don’t even miss the restaurants?” Flann said.

Abby grinned. “Okay, maybe the ready access to something besides pizza. Although the pizza at

Clark’s is damn good.”