Two #2
She heard a heavy sigh from the other side of the obstructed doorway, and shared the hint of exasperation, though hers was tinged by more than a hint of annoyance.
“I’ve been trying,” the woman said with forced evenness. “Trust me, no one would like a solution here more than I would.”
“Have you considered not putting a bed in a business?” Gillian asked, then pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Wow, now that you mention it …” The woman’s voice trailed off, and she started again. “Listen, how about you give me a hand with this and then I can make a proper, neighborly introduction?”
Gillian glanced down at her pantsuit and heels.
She hadn’t exactly dressed for physical labor this morning, and she didn’t relish the thought of getting mussed up after her post-gym shower.
She hated feeling disheveled, but neither could she abide disorder, and a mattress separating her office from her clients came entirely too close to chaos for her to stomach. “Okay.”
“Okay?” the voice asked hopefully.
“I’ll help. What do you need, other than perhaps a career change?”
“Ha, fair assumption given the circumstances, but could you push from the back end there while I try to pull this into a gentle arc?”
Gillian braced herself against the wall and gave a shove, but instead of budging, the mattress seemed only to bunch up. “I think the angle is impinging forward movement.”
“You don’t say,” came the frustrated response.
“Could you try to pull it inside further?”
“It’s up against the wall.”
“What if you stand it up more while I push?”
“Sure.” There were some scuffing sounds, and a bit of the tension against the doorframe eased.
Gillian pushed, her heels digging in and her arms straining. She wasn’t getting far, but if she could just make the turn, surely something would give.
“Maybe we should try a different angle,” the woman behind the wall suggested.
“No.” She gritted her teeth. “So close.”
“Are you still breathing?”
Not really. She tried to lift a bit as she pushed. “If I could get a better handhold …”
“Hey, be careful, it’s heavy. Use your knees—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She didn’t know what amused her less, the work or this person’s running commentary.
She channeled her annoyance into the struggle.
She didn’t even care about the implications of a bed across the hall from her place of business anymore.
This thing was going in there, and then she intended to personally slam the door.
With that happy thought she gave one more reckless lunge and had a fractional second of satisfaction when it gave way before realizing she was going with it.
Both the mattress and her own momentum carried her right through the office door, which would’ve been horrifying enough, but all the coiled-up energy in the springs, once free of their constraint, bounced back with unexpected force.
Gillian barely had the time to notice a figure clinging tightly to the other end of the mattress before it kicked violently off the wall and toward the floor with a heavy thud that took them both down in the process.
The speed and the force with which everything happened shocked her, followed by the disorienting tangle of arms and legs that ensued amid the crush of cushioning and crunch of plastic.
Still, Gillian found nothing quite so disconcerting as the moment of stillness accompanying the realization she’d somehow ended up atop the mattress but underneath a woman.
Admittedly, it had been a while since she’d assumed such a position, and she hadn’t intended to do so now, but her body reacted with a visceral kind of muscle memory.
Every part of her went soft and quiet as she stared up at the lithe form hovering over her.
The press of thighs against her own, the curve of full lips and breasts, a shroud of silky brown curls spilling down extended arms, and the gently parted lips captivated her attention.
Gillian’s gaze lingered on the mouth above hers for a warmth-inducing amount of time she didn’t care to examine before meeting the wide eyes giving her the same kind of inspection.
They were beautiful, even given the circumstances.
Gillian had to acknowledge the light brown irises, dark, thick lashes, and expressive eyebrows raised in surprise would make for a compelling combination in any situation.
She was still taking in the woman’s expression, as shock gave way to searching, then flashed with something akin to recognition.
“Gillian?” the woman asked, her voice lower, breathier, closer, and yet tinged with amusement.
Memories assaulted her in a way that went beyond any physical sensation she’d experienced so far.
The room spun as the playback echoed in her ears.
That laugh, the lilting humor, the lining of a suit, not the one she wore today, but the first one she’d ever slipped into, and then darkness, so much deeper than the back of her own eyelids, stars, asphalt, those eyes.
She shuddered against a cold she no longer felt.
“Gillian.” Her own name sounded more mystified this time, something not quite wistful. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She sank reluctantly deeper into the mattress and whatever fresh torture she’d fallen into. “How’ve you been, Daphne?”