“We never listen to our own advice.” With a wave, she left the room.
Dar straightened up and looked around at the now empty room.
Okay. She’d gotten her head examined several times, and apparently her arm wasn’t going to require amputation. A smile appeared. That meant she could get her ass out of here and go home. She went to the door and peeked out, seeing no sign of her solicitous orderly with his 282 Melissa Good ready wheelchair. “Heh.” Dar planned her route and slipped past the nurses’ station toward the doors.
“DAMN.” KERRY FELT the strain as she hit the seventh floor, her breath coming short and her legs starting to really burn. “That’s what you get for slacking off at the gym for the last month, Kerrison. You’re one lazy son of a biscuit when you want to be.” She sucked in a deep breath and pushed through the discomfort.
It annoyed her. She’d kept her running up, hadn’t she? Every morning, without fail, there she was at Dar’s side in the early-morning cool air. So, okay, she’d cut back on the climbing wall to let her shoulder heal, and they were between martial arts classes, but still. Kerry scowled. She’d even kept up with Dar lately... Hey. A thought occurred to her. Was Dar slowing down on purpose and letting her do that? Dar wouldn’t do that, would she?
Not to make Kerry feel better, right? White teeth chewed on a lower lip. Okay, but maybe she did it just to have company, how about that?
Dar would do that, right? Slow down so they could talk to each other, like they’d started to, using that time to go over problems at the office and plan their day.
Hmm. Kerry reached the eighth floor and turned the corner, feeling her heart rate starting to climb. So here she thought she was cruising along, doing so well. “Looks like I’m going to just have to try harder, that’s all,” she panted, forcing herself to leap up the next set of stairs two at a time. She rounded the corner and swung a little wide, a little out of control toward the door that led to the ninth-floor entrance. She put out a hand to steady herself, then suddenly blinked as the solid surface started to move toward her.
Kerry tried to stop, but her momentum was too great and she ended up crashing into the opening door, knocking herself senseless as she reeled backward dangerously close to the steps behind her. “Oh!”
She fought for balance, reaching out for the handrail, but the sweat on her hands betrayed her and she started to fall.
And then, just as suddenly, she wasn’t falling. She was caught and held in a powerful grip, and her senses scrambled to reconcile the abrupt presence of Dar’s distinctive aura surrounding her. “Ow.”
“Hey.” Dar’s voice confirmed her dizzy revelation. “Kerry?
Kerrison!”
Oh boy. Did I do something wrong? Kerry felt her knees buckle, and the next thing she knew, she was on the ground, its cold hardness pressing against her legs, with her upper body cradled in a nice, warm, very Dar-smelling nest. She blinked a few times. “Didn’t know seeing stars wasn’t just an old saying.” She stuttered the words out. “Ow.”
“Easy.” Dar’s voice sounded worried. “Take it easy. Why are you breathing so hard? Honey? Look at me, okay?”
Red Sky At Morning 283
Kerry obeyed, tipping her head back and opening both eyes, very glad she did so when she was rewarded with Dar’s concerned face inches from her. “Wow.” She finally felt her heart rate start to calm.
“Are you ever a sight for sore eyes.” She lifted a hand and gingerly felt her forehead. “Or a sore head.”
Dar stroked her face gently. “What in the hell were you doing?” she asked. “You’re all wet.”
“You have that effect on me,” Kerry joked faintly, getting a halfhearted smile from her lover. “I’m all right. It’s just sweat. I was running the stairs.”
Dar tugged her shirtsleeve over and wiped the droplets of sweat out of Kerry’s eyes. It was warm in the stairwell, and the smaller woman was still breathing hard. “Can I ask why?”
Kerry took a long, shaky breath, then released it. “Seemed like a good idea at the time?” She gave Dar a wan smile. “I was just working the kinks out—getting a little exercise.” She settled her back against the wall and untangled her feet from Dar’s.
“And?” Dar shifted to a more comfortable position. “You decided to make it a decathlon event instead?”
“No.” Kerry dredged her self-disgust back up. “I was getting tired after seven measly flights, and it pissed me off,” she admitted. “I’ve been telling myself what good shape I’m in. Hah.” She forced a laugh and rolled her head to one side, gazing at Dar. “I’m a wuss.”
“Sweetheart,” Dar laid her good arm over Kerry’s shoulders, “our floors at work are eight feet high,” she said. “The ones here are twelve.
You just ran up the equivalent of about fourteen flights of steps at full speed.”
Kerry gazed at the steps, then tipped her head back and looked up.
“Oh.” She felt like an idiot. “Really?”
“Mm-hmm.” Dar gazed fondly at her. “So you’re entitled to be out of breath. I would have been.” She leaned forward and stuck two fingers into the collar of Kerry’s shirt, pulling it outward and peeking inside. “Besides, I really like the shape you’re in.”
Kerry looked down, then up at her. “Really?”
“Really.” Dar released the fabric, transferring her touch to Kerry’s face. She traced the rounded cheekbones and snub nose delicately, examining the crystal clear green depths of her lover’s eyes. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.”
It was amazing. Kerry felt a little fuzzy happy ball settle inside her stomach, its tickling presence causing a smile to spread across her face, achieving an immediate echo on Dar’s. How could a sterile-scented stairwell be this romantic? “Thank you for telling me that.” Kerry leaned forward slightly and brushed Dar’s lips with her own, then made a more solid contact. “Especially since I feel like a slimy, skanky old pair of gym socks right now, so I know you’re just saying that to make me feel good.” She gave Dar a wry smile.
284 Melissa Good Dar studied her in silence, a tiny furrow appearing in her brow. “I most certainly wasn’t.”
“Dar, c’mon.” Kerry nudged her. “Don’t sit there and pretend I’m attractive sitting here all sweaty and covered in hallway dirt.” She held up a hand, which was almost black, then blew her disheveled hair out of her eyes. “I’m a mess.”
“I think you missed my point,” Dar replied. “Ker, you’ll always be beautiful to me, no matter what you look like.”
Kerry gazed back at her seriously. “Do you really mean that?” she asked. “No matter what? Even if I shaved my head, put on fifty pounds, and got a tattoo across my neck that said ‘Budweiser’?” She kept her tone light, but she felt the anxiety as she watched Dar’s face, twenty-five years of her mother’s voice hammering into her conscience.
“Hmm.” Dar cocked her head, giving the vision its due and sober consideration. “Nope. I think I’d have to draw the line at the Bud tattoo,” she said gravely. “Maybe ‘Corona’ I could live with.”
Kerry smiled and dropped her gaze, more relieved than she was willing to admit.
“But as for the rest, yes, I do mean that.” Dar tipped Kerry’s chin up and forced eye contact. “We’re not going to look like this forever, Ker. I don’t know how you feel about it, but I want you to know I don’t give a damn.”
It was ridiculous, Kerry decided, that they were having this absurdly critical discussion sitting in a hospital stairwell. But Dar’s speech deserved an answer. “All my life I’ve had it hammered into me that appearance is what matters,” she said. “And I’d always hoped that...” a slight shrug, “...being in love would mean more than just being physically attracted to someone.” She met Dar’s eyes. “For me it is.