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"No, no. Use your hands. A real cook doesn't need utensils. My mom never did. 'That's why God

gave you hands,' she used to say. Use 'em."

Melanie grinned. "Okay, but you have to let go."

"Oh. Right." Taylor snatched her hand away as if Melanie's skin had burned her. "Sorry."

Melanie sprinkled diced zucchini, then peppers, then squash, then eggplant over the pasta.

Next came some parmesan cheese, along with a touch of shredded mozzarella. Taylor held her

position directly behind Melanie, far too happy there to even think about moving. Every now

and then she'd help her sprinkle or straighten or spread, her arms around either side, her lips

very close to Melanie's ear.

If I had any idea cooking was this much fun, I’d have taken it up long ago, Melanie thought.

Both women found themselves mildly disappointed when they finished their task.

There was one more sealed bowl on the table that hadn't been opened. "Uh oh," Melanie said, when she noticed it. "Did we forget something?"

Taylor snatched the bowl away before Melanie could look inside. "Nope. That's a surprise."

"Dessert?" Melanie's eyes lit up.

"Maybe," Taylor teased as she put the bowl in the refrigerator, and refil ed their glasses.

"You'll just have to wait and see."

An hour and a half later, they sat on the sofa, slumped and groaning.

"I'm stuffed," Melanie whined. "God, that was so good."

"I'll say. You're a terrific cook." She winked. "Think you're too stuffed for dessert? It's okay if you are," she taunted. "I can just take it home. It's no problem."

"Did I say stuffed?" Melanie asked, sitting up straight. "I meant almost stuffed. Not quite stuffed yet."

"Stay here. And no peeking."

Melanie smiled as she watched Taylor's departing form disappear into the kitchen. She

couldn't remember when she'd had such a relaxing, comfortable, fun evening. And they hadn't

even started watching Xena yet. Taylor wasn't leaving any time soon. The thought warmed her

insides.

"Okay, close your eyes," Taylor ordered from the kitchen.

"What?"

"You heard me. Close 'em."

Melanie did as she was instructed, listening for, then feeling Taylor's presence as she came

closer.

"Okay. Open your mouth."

Melanie cocked her head. "Yeah, right. So you can feed me a jalapeno or something? How

stupid do I look?"

Taylor chuckled at the hesitation. "I would never do that. Come on. Open up."

Melanie still hesitated, unsure.

Taylor's voice became softer, almost sexy. Their faces were barely inches apart. "Do you

trust me, Melanie?" She smiled as she saw Melanie's throat move when she swallowed. The

older woman nodded and opened her mouth. Taylor gently deposited the spoon on her tongue

and watched her lips close around it. Her eyes popped open, then closed again she moaned

sensuously.

"Oh my God. Chocolate mousse. I love chocolate mousse. And this is real whipped cream, isn't

it? Do you know how long it's been since I've had real whipped cream and not that Cool Whip

crap?" She pried the spoon from Taylor's hand, stealing the bowl as well. "How did you know I love this?"

Taylor shrugged, incredibly pleased with the reaction. "Lucky guess."

Melanie moaned again at the second spoonful. "God, this is good. Where did you get it?"

"I made it."

Melanie blinked at her. "You did not."

"Did, too." She went to the kitchen and returned with her own bowl and spoon, thoroughly

proud of herself.

Melanie looked like a little kid, her legs curled up under her body, completely content with her

dessert, licking the spoon clean each time. She smiled at Taylor as she sat on the couch next

to her. "Thank you."

"My pleasure."

Melanie laughed. "Not this time. This time, the pleasure is mine."

Not entirely, Taylor thought.

TAYLOR WOKE TO the distant rumbling of thunder. It took her several moments to orient

herself to her surroundings, finally remembering she was in Melanie's house. Funny how she

thought of it as such. After all, Melanie didn't even live here. She was a guest. It was Sam's

house. Or was it? It felt so right having Melanie here, like she'd been around all along. Taylor

felt an uncomfortable anxiety when she thought of Melanie leaving to go back home.

Taylor could smell the nighttime summer rain through the open screen door, clean and natural,

and she knew the world would be sparkling when the sun finally rose. The television was still

on, its eerie blue glow bathing the tiny living room in a milky light, not unlike the moon.

Miniscule dots of snow danced on the screen and Taylor figured they must have fallen asleep

during the last episode, the VCR automatically stopping at the end of the tape. They'd been

watching while stretched out on the open sofa bed after Melanie caught Taylor shifting

uncomfortably and suggested they pull it out. When they had managed to get as close

together as they currently were, Taylor couldn't recall. She swallowed hard, her heart

fluttering in her chest as she realized that Melanie was sleeping soundly in her arms.

The older woman was half on top of Taylor, her head tucked snugly under Taylor's chin,

pillowed comfortably on her chest, the sweet, peachy fragrance of her hair filling Taylor's

nostrils teasingly. Her left arm was draped loosely across Taylor's ribcage, just below—and

dangerously close to—her breasts, and her left leg was resting comfortably between Taylor's

thighs, as if that was where it belonged. Her breathing was deep and even, the cadence of a

soundly sleeping body that effectively pinned Taylor to the bed.

Taylor noticed, although not really to her surprise, that she was as much to blame for their

position, as her left arm seemed to have wrapped itself around Melanie's shoulders

possessively, ensuring their closeness. Had all this been done during the innocence of slumber?

Had they gravitated to each other like this as they slept? Taylor found herself smiling at the

notion of their two bodies moving toward one another on some subconscious plane. Wel , if you

won't be together while you're awake...

She gazed at the arm lying across her body. The unblemished, creamy skin downed very lightly

with reddish-blonde hair. She studied the hand, its neatly filed nails, finished with a coat of

clear polish. The delicate fingers relaxed against the sheet. She had a flash of that hand on

her own body, in her hair, tugging gently. She swallowed hard, moving her eyes to gaze upon

the beautiful face that rested on her chest. The glow from the television cast soft shadows,

intensifying the angles and planes of Melanie's cheeks, the fullness of her lips. Taylor wet her

own lips with her tongue as she tried not to think about how sweet that mouth must taste, how

incredible it would be to devour those lips with hers, how intoxicating it would feel to slip her

own tongue between them and explore what lay beyond. She tried not to look at the intricate

folds of the ear, a diamond stud peeking out from under gold-tinted scarlet strands; tried not

to imagine herself whispering into it, telling its owner how amazing Taylor was going to make

her feel, flicking it teasingly with her tongue.

Okay, cut it out, her inner voice scolded her. Where is this train of thought getting you?

Before she could defend herself against her own mind, Melanie shifted in her sleep, pressing

her knee firmly into Taylor's groin. Taylor stifled a gasp, shocked by her own wetness, praying

Melanie was sleeping deeply enough that she didn't notice the dampness on her knee that must

surely have soaked through the thin fabric of Taylor's shorts. She couldn't remember ever

having been so aroused just by being near someone.

And Melanie wasn't even trying.

With massive effort, Taylor managed to get herself to relax, and eventually, she drifted back

into a light sleep, knowing the sun would be rising in a short period of time.

The next time she opened her eyes, the sun was streaking through the picture window, a

rectangle of yellow light caressing Melanie's bare calf, still draped over Taylor's leg. Taylor

was both nervous and delighted that neither of them had abandoned the positions she had

discovered them in a few short hours before. They hadn't even shifted slightly.

For some unknown reason, she couldn't bring herself to move. Her mind screamed at her to

remedy the situation before Melanie woke up, but her body wouldn't obey her. It was simply

way too comfortable, and did its best to shut out the shrieks of her always-smarter-when-it-

comes-to-these-things brain. Instead, she listened to her own heartbeat, and felt the other

beating so close to hers, with the hand she had rested on the redhead's back. She slowly

released a deep sigh of contentment, wishing to the heavens that this didn't feel as good as it

did.

Several long minutes passed, and Melanie stirred. Taylor took the opportunity to inhale one

last lung full of her sweet-smelling hair, closing her eyes as she did so.

Melanie opened her blue eyes slowly, blinking against the daylight. She took a deep, awakening

breath, feeling better than she had since... she couldn't remember. She'd slept so well. She

examined the soft cotton T-shirt her head was pillowed on, finding it amusing that she

couldn't remember falling asleep. She and Taylor had watched about a zil ion episodes of Xena,

laughing and discussing each episode, its pros and cons. Melanie remembered finding the tape

with the episode titled "The Quill is Mightier." She knew immediately that it was the perfect name for the bookstore. She'd decided not to mention it to Taylor, to surprise her, and...

Her eyes widened as she suddenly became conscious of her body's position. She mentally

cataloged all her body parts, as well as what each of them seemed to be atop. She was

mortified to realize she had fallen asleep half-on and half-off of Taylor.

She swallowed hard, and slowly raised her head. She felt a mixture of dread, overshadowed by

something she didn't want to deal with, but both melted away when she met those gorgeous

dark eyes smiling back at her.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Taylor said.

"Hi." Melanie could immediately feel the blush creeping up her neck, feel her ears turn red.

She extricated herself from the tangle of limbs. "I'm sorry about this..." she began, unsure how to finish.

"Oh, no problem." Taylor brushed the comment aside as if shooing a fly. "Did you sleep okay?"

"As a matter of fact, I slept great." She was surprised by the honest admission. Then, she lowered her eyes sheepishly. "I hope you weren't too uncomfortable."

"Actually, I slept like a baby. I don't even remember drifting off."

Melanie smiled at that. "Me neither."

"Hey, listen," Taylor said a few minutes later, as they worked together to fold up the sofa bed, and straighten the living room, each avoiding further discussion about their bodies'

betrayals. "Work has box seats to the Red Wings games, and I've got them for Sunday night.

Remember, we drove by Frontier Field?" When Melanie nodded, she continued. "Would you be

interested in going with me?" She kept her eyes on the bed she was tidying and babbled on,

afraid to look Melanie in the eye. "It's a blast. The seats are great. We can eat hot dogs and

cotton candy until we explode."

"Wel , how can I possibly refuse an offer like that?" Melanie chuckled.

Taylor's smile lit up her face, and she felt a mix of relief and anxiety. "Game's at seven, so

I'll pick you up around six thirty?"

"It's a date." Melanie had to make a conscious effort to keep from wincing at her own choice of words.

SATURDAY MORNING’S SUN didn't last long, and Melanie was treated to some typical,

temperamental Rochester weather, complete with gray skies and distantly rumbling thunder

that continued on for much of the day.

She was seated at the small kitchen table, legal papers spread out everywhere. She was busy

going over the details her uncle had FedEx'd to the bookstore earlier in the week. Though she

considered herself relatively savvy in the ways of business proceedings, she was baffled by

much of the legalese that lay before her. She was sure everything was as it should be, knowing

Uncle Phil, but she didn't like to decorate anything with her signature unless she knew exactly

what it was she was signing.

After studying the paperwork for several days, refusing to show this particular weakness by

phoning her uncle and simply asking him what certain things meant, she gave in and decided she

did, indeed, need some help.

The phone rang just as she was reaching for it, scaring the hell out of her. She sat with her

hand over her racing heart for three rings before snatching it up.

"Hello?"

"Melanie?"

"Uh huh."

"It's Ben."

She took a deep breath, her heart rate finally decreasing. "Hi, Ben. Wel , this is weird. I was just about to call you."

"You were?" The pleasant surprise in his voice was obvious.

"Yeah. I was wondering if I could pick your brain for a few minutes. I've got the papers for

the bookstore from my uncle and there are a couple parts that I'm stuck on. I thought maybe

you'd have a better handle on this sort of thing."

"Under one condition."

"What's that?"

"Since I was phoning you to call in my debt, how about we do it over dinner?"

"You're sure? I don't want to bother you with this stuff if you'd rather not deal with it."