The Right Time (33 page)

“She’ll join us for dinner, right?” Hennessy said, trying to get her mind around Miranda’s edict.

“Maybe once. And that’s only if she needs a break. I’m telling you,” Townsend said as she searched through a basket for car keys, “she writes like she’s obsessed. We’re on our own, baby girl.” She pulled out a set of keys and dangled them in front of Hennessy. “I could drive, but if any of the local coppers see me…”

Hennessy snatched the keys from her hand. “My first time driving a luxury car.”

“How do you know we have a luxury car?” Townsend smirked as they went out the side door, heading for the garage.

Hennessy met her eyes and laughed. “I’m taking a wild guess. I’m kind of a psychic.”

That evening, they sat in front of a roaring fire, trying to digest their dinner so they could go to bed. The sofa was much more comfortable than any bed Hennessy had ever had, and she had to fight to stay awake while being cuddled by whatever made a simple sofa feel like a hug.

“All we’ve done today is eat,” Hennessy complained. “And you know I love to eat.”

“We’ll do something more active tomorrow. I know you get itchy when you aren’t doing something productive.”

“I just don’t want to have to buy bigger clothes,” Hennessy complained. “If all we do is eat, wander around and window shop, and eat again, I’ll need a new wardrobe.”

Townsend grabbed the waistband of her slacks and tugged on it. “If you didn’t wear a belt, these would fall off you.”

“Not hardly,” she insisted, pushing Townsend’s hand away. “I like to have room in my clothes, but they’re not that big.”

Townsend’s hand went to her leg, then crept up slowly. “I know what we could do to entertain ourselves.” Dancing fingers paused on the belt, playing like they were going to unfasten it.

Chuckling at her determination, Hennessy took the taunting hand and held it. Her voice grew serious when she said, “I’m not sure how to do this, but I do want to be more…intimate I guess is the right word.”

“I know how to do that,” Townsend said, leaning into her and tugging on the belt again. “Just leave it to me and we’ll be so intimate, you won’t know where you stop and I start.”

“Yeah, that’s not really what I’m looking for.” Hennessy gently pushed her away, got up, and went to stand by the hearth. She’d never lived in a place with a big, impressive fireplace and mantle, and found she liked standing with her arm on it, feeling the heat rising up the side of her body. “If we’re going to be intimate this summer, I’d like to inch toward that goal.” She closed her eyes and started again. “Damn, that sounded like a business proposal more than a…whatever it was.”

Townsend got up and stood by her, then moved to the side. “How can you stand being that close to the fire?”

“I like being warm,” Hennessy said. “Simple as that.”

“That fire’s going to force you to buy new pants,” Townsend warned. “They’re gonna ignite.” She stood back a little, and put her hand on Hennessy’s shoulder. “So what are you looking for? Wanna dive in and stop right before we get naked?”

Chuckling, Hennessy said, “You know me so well.”

“Well, what do you want? I’m having a tough time guessing.”

She could see how overheated Townsend was getting, so Hennessy led the way back to the sofa. They sat close. Really close, and she found herself saying, “This is kinda what I want. I want to get more comfortable touching your body. But I do
not
want to get so involved we go all the way. It means a lot—a whole lot—to me to stick to the one year plan.” She took in a deep breath, relishing the way her body felt when Townsend was pressed up against her side. “I know these are baby steps, but I need to keep it simple and slow. If we can stick to the plan, I’ll have a lot more confidence about our relationship. I’m sure of that.”

“More kissing?” Townsend asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” she allowed. “Some more kissing would be nice.” She put her arm around Townsend’s shoulders. “But I need to be in control.”

“Then I guess I’d better expect a very low flame.” She giggled impishly. “At least until I’m in charge. Then we’ll burn the house down.”

With Townsend seemingly happy to cuddle, Hennessy let herself relax into the embrace. If Townsend could calm down a little and let herself enjoy their reality—a budding physical connection that needed nurturing—everything would be fine.

“I like this,” Hennessy said, her voice coming out low and rough. “This is my pace.”

“I can do this,” Townsend said, snuggling a little closer. “I’ve got to remind myself that even if we were having sex, we’d still have a few hours to kill.”

Her soft laugh made Hennessy’s heart skip a beat. Some sounds simply resonated. Touched you in a place that you couldn’t begin to understand. Townsend’s laugh would always be one of those.

“So what do you want to do with all the hours we’re not going at it like rabbits?” Townsend asked.

“Well, I suppose I’d like to see why you like it here. I’ve never been anywhere near this part of the world, so I’d like to see how your little part of the Atlantic is different from mine.”

“I can do that,” Townsend said confidently. “That’ll be our plan for the week.” With a lightning fast shift, she was draped across Hennessy’s lap, arms wrapped around her neck, grinning like a possum eating grapes. “We’ll kiss and we’ll snuggle and I’ll show you how the Bartleys roll.”

Pulling nets onto the boat had given Hennessy muscles that weren’t showy, but were plenty strong. Sliding an arm behind Townsend’s back and another under her thighs, she dumped her back onto the sofa. “We’ll kiss and we’ll snuggle at
my
pace,” she insisted, leaning over so their noses touched. “But you can guide me around the island at any speed you like.”

Townsend tilted her head and placed a brief kiss on Hennessy’s lips. “You win…for now. But don’t fool yourself, baby girl. When I get the green light, we’re gonna burn the house down.”

Sunday broke with an
aching beauty. A truly glorious spring day on the Vineyard. The sky was a bright, clear blue, with a few fluffy clouds skittering along the horizon. And the air was blessedly warm. Not as warm as South Carolina, but the warmest day Hennessy had enjoyed since Christmas. She’d packed a pair of shorts—just in case—and was dressed in them and a T-shirt, sitting in the living room, drinking a cup of tea when Townsend stumbled in.

She stared at Hennessy for a few seconds, gazing longingly at her mug. “I wish you made coffee instead of tea.”

Hennessy stood and walked over to her, put a hand on her back and led her to the mini kitchen. “You can teach me how. I’m sure there’s a coffee maker in one of these cabinets.”

“No, I want espresso. The machine’s in the house.” A cranky frown settled on her face. “But I don’t know how to use it. We usually have a cook, but my mom fired the last one and hasn’t replaced her yet. We’ve gotta rough it.”

Hennessy took a pointed look around the sumptuously appointed cottage. “That’ll be tough, but I think we can manage.”

It took many attempts, but they finally got an acceptable shot of espresso out of the machine. Why it was worth that much effort, Hennessy had no idea. But Townsend seemed to get an inordinate amount of pleasure about having her creature comforts just so.

Hennessy was much more experienced in making a simple breakfast, and she produced pancakes that Townsend gobbled up quickly. Then they went out to the garage, where Townsend started to dig through labeled boxes, clearly searching for something.

“If you tell me what you’re looking for, I might be able to help,” Hennessy said.

“Looking for a sailboat,” she said as she reached the back row of boxes that could have held refrigerators.

“Hmm…how about this one?” Hennessy slapped the stern of a small boat that rested on a trailer. “Granted, it wouldn’t fit into a box, but I’m pretty sure it’s a sailboat.”

Townsend stood and looked at her. “You say that like you don’t sail.”

“I don’t. Our pleasure craft budget is shockingly small.”

“But you live right on the water. Doesn’t somebody—a friend, a relative—have a boat?”

Hennessy shrugged. “Yes and no. Almost everyone has some kind of fishing boat, but no one I know has a sailboat. I’ve never been on one.”

“Hmm…” Townsend stared at the boat for a minute. “It’s a little chilly to sail, especially since this one’s very tippy. But come back this summer and I can take you out in style. My grandfather has a boat that’ll knock your socks off.”

“I’ll be on Hilton Head Island, June Bug, teaching a new crop of fledgling writers.”

“Then we’ll come after the writing program’s over. September’s a great time for sailing.”

“Mmm, we’ll see. I’ll need to spend some time with my family. Gotta load up on hushpuppies, grits and red rice you know,” she added, grinning.

Townsend was still opening boxes and slapping them shut. She seemed distracted, but was, as usual, more focused on the future than the present. “Oh, my mom said she’d rent us an apartment off the compound for the summer. You just have to tell MaryAnn you’ve got carnal thoughts about a timid, innocent little camper.” Her grin was just short of lecherous.

“Cabin leader,” she said, keeping it short. “Leader’s got to be in the cabin,” Hennessy stressed, knowing her words weren’t registering. “Have you even applied? You can’t just walk in and grab a bunk.”

“I don’t want to go if I can’t live with you.” She shoved a box against the wall when it didn’t yield what she was looking for. “If I don’t come to Hilton Head, you have to come to the Vineyard before school starts. I’ll start badgering you about
that
in a few days. A multi-pronged attack. Sleep with me on Hilton Head in June or the Vineyard in September.” She smirked, then got back to looking for whatever.

Hennessy watched her work, idly wondering if Townsend ever fully relaxed. She had a low level nervous energy that never seemed to quit.

“Found ’em,” Townsend proclaimed a few minutes later. Carefully, she reached inside the very large box and removed a toy sailboat. The next box revealed another, just as cute.

Hennessy moved over and took a look. “Dang! These are adorable! The sails look like the real thing.” She poked at them with a finger. “They move!”

“Adorable? They’re scale models. Remote control,” she added, waggling her eyebrows.

“They’re big for toys.” Hennessy held the delicate thing loosely. “It’s up to the top of my head! These would never fit in a bathtub.”

“They’re Laser class. Like the full-sized boats they use in the Olympics.”

“I know nothing about sailing, or the Olympics for that matter, but these are darned cute.”

“Cute? Cute’s for little girls. Tighten your chin-strap. We’re gonna go race.”

“But I don’t know a darned thing about sailboats!”

“Good. I wanna be better at something than you. Now’s my chance.”

They put the boats in the back of the SUV and Hennessy drove to an almost deserted stretch of beach. Each carrying her own craft, they made their way to the water’s edge. Townsend handed Hennessy a controller, delivered quick instructions, then settled her boat in the very gentle surf.

“Few rules,” she said briskly. “Don’t let it get out past about a hundred feet, and don’t slam into a buoy if you can help it.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing!”

“You’ll learn. Just put it in and play around.”

Anxious and out of her element, Hennessy nevertheless gently placed her boat in the water. She slowly twisted a dial, then the wind caught the little boat and sent it right back at her, where it crashed into her leg.

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” Townsend said, smirking as she expertly maneuvered her boat as though she were actually on it. “You might wanna come out this way. It’s more fun on the water.”

“Funny girl. I’ll get there. Just give me a minute.”

“Got all day.”

Patiently, really paying attention to the way the wind grabbed and pulled the boat along, Hennessy made progress. Finally, she thought she had it, and the boat seemed like it was barely skimming along the calm sea.

“See that marker?” Townsend asked after a few minutes.

“Yup.”

“Race you to it.”

“You’re on,” Hennessy said, seeing she was several feet closer to it. They maneuvered their boats, with Hennessy gaining on Townsend until just before she was going to make the buoy. Then a gust of wind caught her unawares, sending her boat whipping around a hundred and eighty degrees, launching it right back towards shore. “Dang!” she shouted. “Almost had you.”

“Gonna take some work, baby girl. But I’m willing to stand out here all day.”

“I’ll get you,” Hennessy promised. “Just give me enough time to really figure this thing out.”

“I’m not gonna bother your pretty little head with the fact that these have four sets of sails for different wind conditions. I’ll let you think it’s simple.”

“I appreciate that,” Hennessy said, smirking.

They spent the next hour jibing and tacking, as Townsend explained the terms for turning in various directions. It was a little like fishing—mostly quiet and tranquil, with short bouts of action—and Hennessy truly loved fishing.