The Muse (25 page)

Kate took a chance and rose to kiss Olive lightly on the mouth. Without pulling back, she murmured, “You’re just a human being with feelings—not a sex dispenser who deserves my attention only when I’ve met my word count.” Pulling back, she made sure Olive could see how much she meant what she was saying. “Olive, you deserve a nice dinner where we can talk about this chemistry we’re both feeling. Hell, we
both
deserve to take an hour out of our days to figure out if we might have a real chance together. I know we’ve had an unconventional beginning, but things aren’t always this complicated with me, I promise.”

She stopped, unsure whether to reveal how deeply she was falling. Would it undermine her sincerity if she appeared to be moving too fast, especially when they’d spent so little time alone? Maybe, but it was equally likely that baring her soul would make her vulnerable in a way that would reassure Olive about her intentions. Choosing her words carefully, Kate said, “Honestly, what I feel for you is incredibly simple—even though it’s not like anything I’ve ever felt before. For anyone.”

Olive cradled the back of Kate’s neck and drew her in for a soft, lingering kiss. “When can we meet?”

“Tomorrow night.” Encouraged by the renewed spark of intimacy, Kate trailed kisses from one side of Olive’s full lips to the other. “I’ll tell Erato I’ll be away for an hour, tops. She’ll have no choice but to accept my absence.” With effort, she pulled away to look Olive in the eyes. “Now are you sure you won’t stay for breakfast?”

She shook her head. “I know when I’m not wanted.” Kate took a step back when Olive pushed herself off the couch and adjusted the hem of her dress. Gesturing upstairs, Olive kept her voice low as though afraid that Erato might overhear. “She may not have said it in so many words, but it’s clear I’ve already overstayed my welcome this morning. I don’t want to stick around while you issue an ultimatum or anything like that…” She hesitated, then took Kate’s hand in both of hers and squeezed. “Talk to her. Please. Then text me and we’ll work out the details about tomorrow.”

“Deal.” Stepping closer, she put her free arm around Olive and gave her a careful hug. “Thank you for last night. And this morning, especially.”

Olive let go of her hand to hug her back. “There’s plenty more where that came from.” She tightened her arms around Kate’s waist. “Thank you, too. Being with you has made me feel so incredibly, excitingly
alive
. More alive than I ever thought I could feel, even before the accident. I want to feel this way forever.” She gave Kate a brief, desperate squeeze, then released her, turning to walk to the front door. “Text me?”

It was physically painful to watch Olive leave. Cursing Erato’s obstructionism, Kate hurried after her, standing naked in the doorway as Olive stepped out of her apartment. “I’ll talk to her right now.” She caught Olive’s hand before she could walk away. As far as she was concerned, they should still be in bed. Hell, they should have been able to stay there all day, fucking until they were physically incapable of going on. If not for Erato, that’s exactly what they’d be doing. Complicated, indeed. “I miss you already.”

Olive broke into a genuine grin. “I miss you, too.” She stepped closer for a sensuous kiss, rubbing her hands up and down Kate’s bare sides. Her touch conveyed so much more than mere words, full of the reassurance that despite whatever complications Kate presented, Olive was still interested. “Now go back inside before your neighbors see exactly how sexy you are. I don’t need any more competition.” She slapped Kate on the butt before stepping away.

“You don’t have any competition,” Kate called after her. She admired the way Olive’s dress hugged her full ass, marveling at how inexplicably gorgeous she was even after a long night of sex and an unpleasant awakening far too early the next morning. And that was all while being a hundred percent human. It was strange, how erotic normality suddenly seemed. “No competition at all.”

Kate’s frustration flared anew when she returned to the bedroom to find Erato still nibbling on breakfast. Given Erato’s barely concealed hostility toward Olive that morning and the anger Kate felt over having a woman she genuinely cared about treated like a prostitute, she figured it was inevitable that they were about to have their first real fight. She was sure as hell mad enough for one. It didn’t help that Erato regarded her with an expression of placid calm that made her momentarily wonder if she’d imagined the tension of minutes ago.

But then, even before she made it all the way across the room, Erato said, “I hope you understand why I can’t let you see her anymore.”

Halting a few feet from the bed, Kate counted her breaths before she answered. She reminded herself how instrumental Erato had been in helping her take the book this far, and how certain she’d felt before last night that her muse’s continued presence in her life was as vital to its completion as her own hard work. All true, but that didn’t make it okay for her to pull rank when a future with Olive was at stake. With a deep breath, Kate said, “We need to talk about our relationship. Basically, what it is and what it isn’t.” She searched Erato’s face for a reaction, and when she didn’t get one, she added, “We need to set boundaries.”

“The boundaries have already been established, by you. Our arrangement is the same as it’s always been. I’m here to help you finish your book, nothing more and nothing less.”

Annoyed by the carefully modulated tone of Erato’s voice, Kate said, “Helping me finish my book doesn’t mean being a bitch to Olive, whose only sin has been to accept both of my invitations home for sex. Regardless of our arrangement, or any previously established boundaries, you have no right to dictate who I date.” She took a hesitant step, then sat down on the end of the bed and tried to interpret Erato’s expression. “Look, I understood that one day, maybe even after I finish this book next month, you’ll leave to be some other lucky author’s muse.”

“I told you I would stay as long as you need me.”

Kate remembered her desperation when she’d imagined Erato disappearing from her life, and the peace Erato’s promise had brought her. What had changed between then and now? Only a week or so had passed, yet somehow everything seemed different. She still didn’t want to lose Erato, but with Olive newly in her life, more was at stake than just the future of her writing career. Why couldn’t it be easier to have it all? “Yes, you did, and I appreciate that more than you know. But you also assured me that one day I
will
decide that I don’t need you anymore, and I assumed you said that because, as far as you’re concerned, this arrangement isn’t forever. One day you
will
leave. Right?”

“But like I said before,” Erato moved the tray of food from the bed to the nightstand, then stretched out on what had become her side of the mattress, “I won’t leave until you ask me to.”

“I’m not saying I want you to go.” Kate covered Erato’s bare foot with her hand. As angry as she was, she definitely wasn’t there yet. “I’m just trying to establish that I’m not your girlfriend. That you don’t think of yourself as mine, that you don’t envision a future in which we grow old and die together. Therefore, we aren’t in a monogamous sexual relationship, which means you have no right to decide who I see.” She waited for a reaction, but Erato didn’t give one. “Am I wrong?”

“You’re correct that we aren’t in a monogamous sexual relationship.” Erato’s intense stare burned through her, unwavering. “But that’s irrelevant to the issue at hand, which is Olive’s potential negative impact on your book.”

“Her potential negative impact?” Affronted by the assumption that she would so easily allow her interest in dating Olive to derail a project she clearly cared about, Kate’s frustration level ticked up. “My desire to see Olive again doesn’t equate to a negative impact. I’m not planning to shack up with her for the next month, deadline be damned. I’m talking about one dinner date,
maybe
two, which will have zero effect on my writing schedule. Trust me, the book will still get done.”

“That you actually believe that is the best justification I can offer for what has to happen next.”

That…didn’t sound good at all. Unsettled, Kate removed her hand from Erato’s foot. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Two days ago you admitted to me that Olive could become a distraction. Now she has.”

“But we haven’t even—”

“Believe me, this thing with Olive
will
distract you…even if you don’t realize it yet.” Erato sat up straighter as her calm facade began to slip. “Do you really believe you’ll be able to leave things at one or two dinner dates? A few weeks apart might as well be a year when you’re in the wild, hot, passionate stage of new love. Even if you aren’t meeting in person, she will consume your thoughts. Can you honestly tell me you’ll be able to concentrate on Rose and Molly and their happily-ever-after if you’re busy daydreaming about the possibility of your own?”

Kate had fallen in love once before. Erato wasn’t wrong. It was the most gut-wrenching, all-consuming experience life had to offer, and right now was the worst possible time for it to happen. But this was
love,
or it could be, and if that didn’t come before all else, then what was she even writing about? “So I should let her go, have my heart broken, and somehow try to write Rose and Molly a happy ending despite my own miserable, loveless life?”

Erato clicked her tongue. “Your life is neither miserable
nor
loveless, so don’t be ridiculous.” Folding her arms over her chest, her frown brought to mind a petulant child. “You know, I’m only trying to keep the promise
you
asked me to make.”

Too upset to recall specifics, Kate said, “I’m almost positive I never made you promise to forbid me from seeing Olive again. Or deny me a chance at happiness.”

“
Writing
makes you happy.” For the first time since they’d met, Erato raised her voice. “My dear, the night before last you made me swear I would keep you focused on your art, whatever it took. Even if you called my methods into question, you said, or begged me to leave you alone, I was to vow that I would
force you
to see the book through to the end. Not even forty-eight hours later and you’re giving me grief about doing just that?
Seriously?
”

The exasperated incredulity in Erato’s voice, reflected a thousandfold on her pretty face, triggered a rush of genuine shame. Embarrassment colored Kate’s cheeks and rendered her silent as she forced herself to calm down and analyze the current situation as objectively as possible. She had begged Erato to keep her on task. Less than forty-eight hours ago she had been so excited about her creative resurgence—and so
committed
in her newfound devotion to that Damn Book—she’d briefly considered not making a date with Olive at all. But Erato had insisted, literally
insisted,
even suggested that not seeing Olive again would prove to be an even bigger distraction than indulging in her favorite new addiction. Given that Erato seemed to read her mind ninety-nine percent of the time, hadn’t she anticipated that a second date with Olive might lead to the desire for a third? What did she think would happen? That Kate would lose interest? That Olive would? Or had she simply planned that icy, passive-aggressive wake-up call from the start, hoping to establish ownership and scare Olive away once she’d served her purpose?

As her ire rose again, Kate forced herself to calm down. The more upset she became, the more she would bolster Erato’s belief that Olive was somehow bad for her creativity. She needed to approach this disagreement as logically as possible.

Taking a breath to level out her emotions, she said, “You’re right. I asked you not to let me get distracted. And yes, I
was
worried that inviting Olive back into my life might hurt my ability to meet this deadline. But I was questioning whether she could accept the demands writing makes on my life when the other women I’ve dated never seemed able to. Now that I’ve spoken to her, I’m not concerned anymore. She wants to meet me for dinner tomorrow—
one
hour, two at the very most—so we can talk, but beyond that, she understands that right now the book takes priority. She said that after tomorrow, she’ll be happy to wait until you’ve given me permission to contact her again. If that’s not until next month when I’m done with the book, then…” She wasn’t really okay with that idea and was apparently unable to pretend that she was. “I hope you don’t make us wait that long.”

Erato huffed. “Absolutely not.”

Kate tried to decide whether to be happy or upset about the vague answer for only a few seconds before asking for clarification. “Absolutely not
what?
”

“You’re not meeting Olive for dinner tomorrow. Absolutely not. I forbid it.”

She was
really
starting to lose patience with Erato’s authoritative nonsense. “Actually, I am. I don’t care
what
I made you promise—you’re way out of line. One dinner is harmless and the least she deserves from me, especially after the way you behaved toward her this morning.”

“After the way
I
behaved?” Getting up onto her knees, Erato suddenly towered over Kate, shockingly intimidating swept up in her righteous fury. “You’re the one who’s getting pissy with
me
for doing exactly as you asked—you wanted me to protect you from yourself, to act in your best interests, to not let you stray from the path you were on. Do you honestly think that falling in love won’t hinder your progress on this book? As an author and therefore a student of human nature, you can’t
possibly
believe that limiting yourself to one dinner date will insulate you from the emotional turmoil of wondering where Olive is, what she’s doing, what she’s
thinking,
and when you’ll be able to touch her again. Do you?”

“And what about the emotional turmoil of blowing off a woman I really care about? Aren’t you worried about the negative impact that will have on my writing?” She took a moment to consider how she would feel if Erato actually prevented her from seeing Olive again. The utter despair that accompanied the thought didn’t bode well for the creativity Erato claimed to want to foster. “Believe me, issuing this kind of ultimatum won’t achieve the desired effect. If you’re such an expert on human nature, you’d realize that a broken heart is worse for my creativity than a mildly distracted one.”