After a minute or two of trying to get comfortably situated, she’d sent Celia to the love seat in the sitting area of her bedroom while she brought in their dishes and gave the kitchen a once-over. “Stop stalling,” she mumbled to herself, recognizing she was more nervous than usual. She’d entertained women like this before…women who ran their course through her life before she admitted there had to be more. Tonight was different—because Celia was shaping up to be the “more” she’d been waiting for. After pouring two small snifters of Frangelico, she returned to the bedroom to find Celia sitting with her feet tucked beneath her, her shoes on the floor. If her dress rose one more inch, it might as well not be there at all. “I was starting to wonder what happened to you,” Celia said as she accepted the offered drink. “Does it surprise you I like to keep things neat?” After a noticeable pause, Celia asked, “Does that include me?” “Not sure if I know what you mean.
