Chasing a Brighter Blue, page 18
“Just shoot me,” she murmured.
No, she’d rather chase anything but politicians.
She felt someone walk up behind her, and she turned, finding Shelby there. She let her gaze roam over her, the strapless dress showing just enough cleavage to be enticing.
“I’m very tired,” Shelby said with a subtle smile. “Are you?”
“Yes. Very, very tired. In fact, I think I should be in bed within fifteen minutes.”
Shelby laughed. “Do you think anyone would miss us?”
“No.” She looked around. “It’s winding down anyway, isn’t it?”
Shelby nodded. “Meet you up in my suite?”
Reagan gave her a slow smile. “Fifteen minutes?”
Shelby returned her smile. “Fifteen minutes.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Shelby leaned back against the pillow, the sheet pulled only to her waist. Reagan was on her side, leaning on an elbow, her hand lazily moving in circles under Shelby’s breasts.
“You could come to Denver with me,” Shelby offered.
Reagan’s ministrations paused for only a moment before resuming their endless brush against her skin. “And do what?”
“You could stay with me until you decide what you’re going to do.”
Reagan sighed. “Tempting.” She looked up. “Very tempting. But I’ve got to get my life back in order.” Her hand stopped its movements altogether, and she rolled onto her back. “I need to sort out everything, decide what I want to do. I’m good with a camera,” she said. “But I don’t want to chase wars anymore.”
Shelby rolled to her side, reversing their positions as she now leaned on her elbow, her hand reaching out to touch Reagan. Her voice had a bit of the old sadness in it, and she wondered if she’d simply been suppressing it this last week or if it really had disappeared for a while. Now that the wedding was over, real life was about to roll around again…bringing real life issues to the forefront once more.
“Where will you go?”
“I’m going to San Diego, I think,” Reagan said. “I have a friend there I can stay with, someone I can talk to. She was in the profession too.”
Shelby was surprised by the hint of jealousy she felt. “An old lover?”
Reagan smiled. “No. Gillian’s quite a bit older than me. A mentor, if anything.” She took Shelby’s hand and brought it to her lips, kissing the back gently. “I need to thank you…for rescuing me.”
Shelby smiled. “Is that what you call this?”
“I was in a dark place. You could have left me there,” Reagan said. “I know at first I wasn’t very good company.”
“Maybe I should thank you for rescuing me,” she countered. “I would never tell Stephanie this, but the prospect of spending nearly two weeks up here celebrating a wedding was not at the top of my fun list. But you made it fun, Reagan.”
Reagan again kissed her hand. “I’m going to miss you, Shelby.”
Shelby nodded. “I’ll miss you too.” She paused. “Will I ever see you again?”
“I hope so.” Reagan squeezed her hand tightly. “I just need some time to…to get me back,” she said.
Shelby understood. Of course she did. Reagan had suffered a personal loss, had witnessed something traumatic…something awful. She didn’t expect her to have dismissed it simply because they were lovers. Reagan had obviously managed to ignore it for a while, had put it at the back of her mind. But now…now it was time to put this affair aside and get back to reality.
And the reality was that Shelby had a life in Denver to get back to. She had projects at work that needed her attention. She was actually looking forward to getting back. She was not, however, looking forward to returning to her empty apartment. Sharing living space with Reagan these last four days had made her realize how lonely her apartment really was. Maybe it made her realize how lonely her life really was.
Shelby met her eyes, trying to read them. “You’re leaving in the morning?”
Reagan nodded. “You?”
“I suppose. It’s not that long a drive for me but I do have things to tend to before work on Monday,” she said. She tilted her head. “You’re not driving all the way to San Diego, are you?”
“Actually, I thought I might. Head south into New Mexico, then cut across the desert. Been a long time since I’ve had a road trip.”
Shelby tilted her head, a slight smile on her face. It did sound like fun. She almost wished Reagan would ask her to go along. Would she go? No, of course not. She had a job to get back to. She had her life to get back to.
“What?”
Shelby met her eyes. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
Shelby rolled onto her back and tugged Reagan with her. “We have several hours until dawn. I’m not ready to say goodbye just yet.”
Reagan settled between her legs, pressing hard against her, but her kiss was soft, gentle. Shelby wanted to melt right there as Reagan’s lips nibbled at her own.
“And I’m going to miss making love with you,” Reagan whispered. “It’s been the best.”
Shelby moaned as Reagan’s mouth found her breast. “Yes…the best.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Shelby stood at the window of her office, watching the snowflakes swirl against the glass. To say she was in a blue mood would be an understatement. She couldn’t seem to get back into the swing of things, even after four days. A quiet knock at her door brought her attention from the snowy scene outside.
“Come in.”
Rachel, from the marketing team, opened the door about halfway and peeked inside, eyebrows raised.
Shelby returned her questioning gaze.
“Spring break? The new prices at Steamboat? Did you get a chance to look it over?”
“Oh. Yes. Sorry,” Shelby said as she moved to her desk. She pulled up the comparison chart she’d created that morning. “I think we need to come down on the prices a little. We’re still above what everyone else is offering.”
Rachel walked fully into the office. “If we’re going to put together a package deal for lift tickets and shuttle, then we’re pretty much at our limit.”
“Let’s shoot for one hundred percent occupancy,” she said. “Last year during the spring break period we were at eighty-eight percent. Come down on the prices a little and get to one hundred percent, and we’ll easily beat the numbers.”
“Okay. I’ll rework it.” Rachel paused before leaving. “Is everything okay? You seem a little distracted.”
Shelby smiled and waved her question away. “I’m fine.”
But she sighed heavily when the door closed, and instead of sitting at her desk, she returned to the window. Maybe it was only Stephanie’s text of a picture of her and Josh on a warm, sunny beach that had her feeling blue. Maybe it had absolutely nothing to do with Reagan Bryant.
She’d known the woman two weeks. Twelve days, to be exact. Yes, they’d become friends. And yes, they’d become lovers. But still, it was all of twelve days. You don’t really—truly—get to know someone in only twelve days.
She laughed lightly. The twelve days of Christmas. But Christmas had come and gone. The wedding had come and gone. And Reagan had come and gone too.
Was she already in San Diego? Was she lying on the beach, soaking up rays? Had she picked up her camera? She glanced at her phone. She could always call her. But she didn’t want to intrude, didn’t want to take away from the time that Reagan said she needed. Of course, Reagan could always call her too.
She finally turned from the window with another sigh. They’d had a brief affair, nothing more. It wasn’t like it was anything deeper than that. It wasn’t like she was on the verge of falling in love with her or anything.
“Of course not,” she murmured. No, not her. She didn’t fall in love. Not now. Not ever.
So with that thought firmly in her mind, she sat down at her desk and pushed Reagan Bryant from her mind.
* * *
“You ever been shot at?”
Gillian nodded, the corners of her eyes wrinkling up as she grinned. “Hell, yeah. Been shot at more times than I can remember,” she said in her gravelly smoker’s voice. She pulled her shirt up, exposing her belly. “Took a hit to my side one time during a street fight in Mexico City.”
The scar was long healed, but Reagan stared at it, wondering if she’d have been able to go back out on the streets if she’d been shot. Gillian must have read her mind.
“Took me a while to get my groove back,” she said. “Don’t mind sayin’, I haven’t been to Mexico City in twenty-eight years.” She filled up the small tumbler with tequila and slid it toward Reagan. “When I was your age, I was all over the damn place.”
“Chasing wars?”
Gillian nodded. “Yeah. That’s where the action is.” She leaned forward. “But we sacrifice so much, don’t we? Hell, I never even fell in love. Lovers here and there, that’s about it.”
“I thought you were seeing some newspaper guy.”
“Sex. Not the same as being in love.” She tossed back her shot of tequila and slammed the glass on the table. “Now when are you going to tell me what the hell you’re doing here? You show up on my doorstep out of the blue, looking like a lost puppy. What’s going on?”
Reagan swirled the liquid in her glass, watching as it circled the rim without spilling. She finally brought it to her mouth, drinking it down in one swallow.
“You hear about Richard?”
“Richard? Oh, yeah. A bomb. It’s awful.”
Reagan nodded. “I was there.”
Gillian’s eyes widened. “You were working with him? I thought the last time we talked, you said you were never going back to Afghanistan.”
“I know. But I owed him a favor.” She slid the empty glass toward Gillian, nodding as she refilled it. “I was shooting when the bomb went off. I got it all,” she said quietly. “Right up to the end.”
“Damn, kid. You put any of them out there?”
Reagan shook her head. “No.” She met her gaze. “I haven’t even looked at them. Hell, I haven’t even picked up the damn camera since that day.”
Gillian’s eyes softened. “Is that what this is all about?”
“Yeah.” She drank the tequila quickly, feeling it burn her throat. “I should have been killed too.”
“Oh, Reagan. In our profession, the places we go, hell, we put ourselves in danger all the time. You knew that going in.”
“I know. And I’ve been in the line of fire before. But this…this was different. Richard was a good friend. No matter how hard I try to remember the good times, the fun times…all I see is the bomb going off. All I see is Richard being torn apart.”
“Were you injured, Reagan?”
She shook her head. “A few scratches, bruises, nothing more.”
“What about the rest in your group?”
“Yeah. We lost three. Another badly injured.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I haven’t touched my camera since then.”
Gillian nodded. “Been there, done that,” she said as she filled yet another tumbler with tequila. “Why do you think I got out of the business?”
Reagan shrugged. “Don’t really know. I guess I thought you got tired of the travel, tired of the constant movement.”
“That too,” she said. “I told myself I was getting too damn old for it. Told myself to let the young ones do it. Like you.” She lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, blowing out the smoke slowly. “But you reach a breaking point, Reagan. We choose the type of stories to cover…we choose to chase wars. You see enough death, you start to get numb to it. You start to expect it. Hell, sometimes you hope for it just to get a better shot.” She drank down the tequila. “That’s when I knew I had to get out.”
“You think that’s where I am? That I need to get out?”
“Only you can know that, Reagan. But you’re what? Early thirties?”
She nodded. “Been doing this ten years now.” She leaned back in her chair, feeling mellow from the tequila. “A friend suggested that I was chasing the wrong things. She said instead of wars I needed to chase smiles and happiness.” She smiled, remembering Shelby’s words. “Switch gears. Shoot weddings and birthday parties.”
Gillian laughed. “That’s switching gears all right.” She stubbed her cigarette out. “You tired of the news altogether? Tired of current events?”
“I’m just tired, period,” she said. “Tired of the travel, for sure.”
“Then settle down somewhere,” Gillian said. “There are lots of opportunities to make a living with your camera. I’ll warn you, though, after living the life you have, it’s easy to get bored with a tamer subject. You might be shooting a wedding and hope the bride and groom get into a fight at the altar,” she said with a laugh.
“What did you do?”
“Besides lecturing to college students? I still do that, by the way. I make the profession sound all glamorous and exciting,” Gillian said.
“I remember. What else did you do?”
“Oh, I made a little money shooting beach scenes for a calendar one year. Bored me to tears,” she said. “I still freelance some. Wildfires and such.” She lit another cigarette. “Truth is, I don’t pick up my camera much these days.”
Reagan nodded. Even when she’d first met Gillian, back in college, she couldn’t recall a time where she had a camera at hand. Unlike Reagan who practically slept with hers. That is, until recently. Is this how she would end up? Drinking tequila in the middle of the afternoon and not giving her camera another thought?
Well, right now, she was just mellow enough not to care. Gillian’s tiny bungalow was only two blocks from the beach. So she stretched her legs out and enjoyed the sunshine on this last day of the year. Gillian had said she could bunk on her couch for as long as she wanted. Maybe staying a couple of weeks wouldn’t hurt. Who knows? Maybe she might find something that would give her the itch to pull her camera out again. A beach sunset might do the trick.
She closed her eyes for a moment, surprised that an image of Shelby’s face popped into her mind as easily as it did. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss her. She missed sharing a bed with her, sure. But she also missed their conversations, their teasing…their playfulness.
She missed the mountains, the blue, blue sky, the crisp air. She missed Shelby’s laugh, missed her touch…missed looking into her eyes, watching them change color when Shelby was aroused.
Yeah, she missed her. She should probably call, let her know she’d made it safely.
Maybe tomorrow.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“So you’re not going to press charges?”
Her father shook his head. “Not yet. Let’s wait and see what we find with the other audit. Mark swears Aspen was the only hotel that he touched.”
“And he’s agreed to make restitution?”
“Yes. And I’ll give him this…he didn’t just blow the money he embezzled. At least he invested it wisely.”
Shelby sat down across from her father’s desk. “So he gets nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Amazing.”
“Bringing it all out in the open, Shelby…I didn’t see the point. He’s going to repay, that’s the important thing. And, of course, he’ll never work for us again.” Her father leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s over and done with. The attorneys are dealing with the repayment issue, and he’s already been removed from his office.”
“I’m sure rumors are swirling at the hotel. Is William going to let everyone know what happened?”
“I haven’t decided. What is your opinion on it?” he asked.
“I would make it perfectly clear why Mark lost his job,” she said. “Let everyone know that we don’t tolerate dishonest employees, regardless of position.” She crossed one leg over her knee. “And I do think we should audit housekeeping. Aspen has the worst numbers, by far.”
“Well, if you wouldn’t insist on providing such nice, thick towels and robes, maybe so many wouldn’t go missing,” he teased.
“The types of guests we have in Aspen aren’t the ones to steal towels and robes, and you know it.”
He sighed. “I know. And that’s really what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said.
She frowned. “Auditing housekeeping?”
“No. Running a tighter ship at each hotel. Having a presence there.” He paused. “Us.”
She stared at him. “What are you saying?”
“I want to relocate to Aspen.”
“Aspen?” She tried to keep the surprise from showing on her face. “Well, I know Mother has suggested it in the past. And you do spend an awful lot of time there.”
He looked away from her, and she noticed that he was tapping his index fingers together, something he never did. So she leaned closer to his desk, waiting until he met her gaze.
“When you say relocate to Aspen, do you mean the corporate office or your place of residence?”
He folded his hands together, stilling his fingers’ nervous movements. “Is there really a need to have the corporate office here in Denver? With the technology today, is there really a need for us to all be in the same place?”
She drew her brows together, trying to read between the lines to understand what he was saying. She decided it was serving neither of them to talk around the issue.
“What’s going on, Dad?”
He paused for a long moment, then got up and stood by the window. It was a sunny day but bitterly cold. Frost still clung to the glass. She looked past him out into the blue sky, having a sudden urge for springtime, still several months away.
“I’m getting older,” he said. He turned to her, smiling slightly. “I had this all rehearsed but I can’t seem to remember it now.”
She felt her heart catch. Was he ill? Is that what he was trying to say? But she said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
“I need some…some happiness in my life,” he said. “I need to make some changes. Changes that are years past due.”
