Tara. Raegan had said that the woman's name was Tara. It echoed in Jamie's head, Rae's gentle voice bouncing off the barren walls of her mind and through the deep, empty canyon of her heart. The first month of the new year was drawing to a close and Jamie still felt the sting of Rae's rejection on New Year's Eve.
She tried to remind herself that she had been the one that had left Rae in the first place. The company had flashed a promotion and a significant raise and she had leapt at the opportunity. She would be overseeing seven stores, including two brand new ones that would be built and opened under her supervision. Then her Nashville boss had told her that the stores were located in northern Ohio. She had rushed to the two story townhouse that she had shared with Raegan since they had moved to Nashville, only to find her lover of seven years respond with unenthused silence.
When Rae had finally spoken, her answer had been simple but nonnegotiable. "Capitol Records and country music are in Nashville."
They had made the decision together. Raegan had been unwilling to leave Nashville, but she had refused to allow Jamie to give up the opportunity. Jamie had left for Ohio in August and had not seen Raegan since. She hadn't wanted to acknowledge how easily the two of them had drifted apart once they no longer lived in the same city.
She'd even met someone else fairly quickly. She spent Thanksgiving with the manager of one of the stores. She had enjoyed the meal with the older woman and had gone out with her on several occasions. By Christmas, though, Jamie had realized that the woman was nothing like Rae. Then she had called Rae on New Year's Eve, hoping for an invitation to come home. Instead, she had called just in time to hear Rae's new lover announce she was moving to Nashville. Jamie had hung up the phone and refused to answer it for a week.
She had gotten smashed on New Year's Eve and ended up in bed with a woman who's name she could no longer recall. They had not exchanged phone numbers and Jamie was grateful that she had not seen the woman again. She hadn't been interested in dating since she had recovered from her hangover.
A letter from Raegan had been in her mail box today. Jamie had cursed her hands when they trembled as she opened the thin envelope. The letter had been simple but filled with Raegan's quiet form of passion. She had told the story of how she had found Tara. "It wasn't expected, dear Jamie," Raegan's careful script had said. "After seven wonderful, precious years with you, I didn't think I would ever love anyone else. I don't blame you, but you gave me the impression you were moving on, so I decided to move as well. Tara's husband recently died, and we have found something with each other that neither of us knew we were missing."
Jamie tried to be angry at Rae's words. How dare she imply that their life together had been missing something? She didn't want to acknowledge that the decision to live apart was evidence that something had indeed been missing. Rae had attached a picture of a happy family. Tara had a little boy and was expecting another child. Had Raegan ever looked at her the way she was looking at Tara in the picture, Jamie would have never even considered moving.
She loved Raegan. One day, she would let herself be happy for Raegan, though that day was not now. She sat the bar and stared in the amber liquid of her glass, trying to find happiness for her former lover and dear friend. Above the bar, the Super Bowl played on the television. She glanced at the game occasionally, but couldn't get very excited about it. The Titans had slipped out of the running and she didn't really care about any of the other teams, even Tennessee's favorite football son in Indianapolis. The crowd around her cheered as one of the teams rushed toward the end zone of the field. Her eyes focused on the screen until the play was over, and then returned to her solemn examination of the beer.
She wasn't exactly sure why she had come to the bar. She didn't drink very often and had never been interested in the bar scene. She had met Rae in a college class, not at a bar or a party. She'd barely been eighteen at the time, so her previous encounters had been with friends. She'd never needed the bar scene to meet someone.
She glanced around at the patrons of the pub. The crowd was mixed with males and females. The men were posturing for the women, allowing the football game and the booze to flood their testosterone level. There weren't many girls in the room that would return her interest. As she turned her attention back to her drink, she caught sight of the woman sitting next to her. The woman was not watching the game, either. The woman's eyes were focused on Jamie.
Jamie started when she made the eye contact. Her face flushed and she jerked away. The woman laughed, a deep, husky sound, and Jamie looked again. The woman's smile was warm and welcoming. She glanced at the television, then back to Jamie. "Exciting game, isn't it? Which team is your team?"
"Nashville," Jamie answered with a slight growl of frustration.
The woman threw her head back and laughed out loud, her thick black hair flowing behind her. She signaled the bartender for a refill of her martini, watching the game for a moment. "I like the Bronco's myself, though they haven't been worth anything since John Elway retired. How about a game of pool? It's a little quieter over there." The woman picked up her martini and walked away without giving Jamie a chance to decline.
Jamie remained on her stool for a moment, watching as the woman walked away. She was not dressed for a night of drinking and football. She wore a black skirt, a fitted jacket, and heels. The woman walked with confidence. Jamie found a smile on her lips, something she hadn't experienced in some time. She picked up her mug and followed.
The woman had already racked the balls for a game of nine ball. She blew across the tip of the cue stick, a blue chalk dust cloud billowing toward Jamie. Jamie's eyes did not focus on the chalked end of the cue stick, but on the red puckered lips causing the chalk to fly. Unconsciously, Jamie wet her own lips, making them glisten even in the dim bulb hovering over the center of the pool table.
Jamie took a breath and turned to select her own cue, lingering over her choice as she attempted to regain her composure. Her face felt flushed and her breathing irregular. No one had ever had ever had this effect on her, not even Raegan.
She exhaled slowly before turning back to the pool table, but automatically felt her breath catch. The woman was bent over the table in front of her, stroking the cue between her fingers and concentrating on her shot. The skirt clung to her round bottom. Her legs, long and muscular, extended beneath the hem of the skirt. Jamie's eyes took a leisurely stroll down those legs until they landed on the heels. Without shooting, the woman stood, propping the cue against the side of the table. Her long fingers went to the buttons of the jacket, slipping them through the eyes. She removed the jacket and laid it to the side. She wore a white silk blouse. The first button of the blouse was just below her bust line. The collar was open and Jamie saw a glimpse of supple, pale, round flesh.
Beads of sweat formed on Jamie's forehead. The woman turned and Jamie dropped her eyes quickly. She was embarrassed to be caught looking, but there was something else about the woman that made Jamie feel it was wrong to meet her eyes. Nervously, she took the chalk and prepared her cue, then bent to check her own stick on the table, lining up a shot with the cue ball for the break. The woman walked behind Jamie, slapping her hand against the round rump enclosed in blue jeans. "You break," the woman said in a deep, husky voice, whispering in Jamie's ear.
Jamie flinched at the touch, surprised by the woman's forwardness and also by the rush of warmth she felt in the front seat of her jeans. She took a long time with her shot, constantly aware of the woman standing just a few feet away. Jamie swallowed with difficulty, focusing on the cue ball and the number one in front of her. She pulled back, feeling the smooth wood slide between her fingers, then the contact with the white ball. She heard the sound of the cue hitting the front ball and saw the nine numbered balls scatter. She sank the number three.
