Montana Sky

you’ll tell us all about Adam’s wonderful long thumbs.”
    “Oh, I couldn’t.”
    “I’ve got another bottle.”
    “Don’t tease her about it,” Willa said, but there wasn’t any sting in the words. “Not everybody likes to brag about their bedroom activities.”
    “I’d like to,” Lily said, and flushed again. “I’d like to brag and strut and tell everyone because it’s never been like this for me. I never knew it could. I never knew I could.” Though she had no head for liquor, she knocked back her second glass with abandon. “And Adam is so beautiful. I mean his face and his heart, but his body. Oh, my God.”
    She pressed a hand to her breast and held out her glass, which Tess obligingly filled. “It’s like something carved out of amber. It’s perfect, and I get all loose and fluttery inside just looking at him. And he’s so gentle when he touches me. And then he’s not, and I don’t care because I want him, and he wants me, and everything goes wild and I feel so strong, as if I could make love with him for hours, for days. Forever. And sometimes I have three or four orgasms before we’re finished, and with Jesse I hardly ever had even one, and then—”
    She broke off, blinked, swallowed. “Did I just say that?”
    Tess took a slow, labored breath, a long drink. “Are you sure you want to stop? Another few minutes, and I might just come myself.”
    “Oh.” Hurriedly, Lily set her glass down, clasped her hands to her hot cheeks. “I’ve never said things like that to anyone. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
    “You didn’t.” Willa’s own stomach was fluttering as she reached over to pat Lily’s arm. “I think it’s wonderful for you, and for Adam.”
    “I couldn’t say things like that to anyone before.” Lily’s voice broke, and the tears swam. “I couldn’t to anyone except the two of you.”
    “Now, Lily, don’t—”
    “No.” Lily cut off Tess’s concern with a shake of her head. “Everything’s changed for me. It started changing when I first met both of you. I started changing. Even with all the horrible things that have happened, I’m so happy. I found Adam, and both of you. I love all of you so much. I love you so much. I’m sorry,” she said, and sprang up to rush to the bathroom.
    Moved, flummoxed, Willa sat where she was and listened to the sound of water rushing into the bathroom sink. “Should one of us go in there?”
    “No.” Feeling misty-eyed herself, Tess filled Willa’s glass again, then dropped onto the couch beside her. “We’ll give her a minute.” Thoughtfully she selected a perfect Granny Smith apple from the complimentary basket on the table. “She’s right, you know. As bad as things are, there’s a lot of good stuff trying to balance the scales.”
    “I guess.” Willa looked down into her glass, then lifted her gaze to Tess’s. “I guess I’m glad I got to know you. I don’t have to like you,” she added before things got sloppy. “But I’m glad we got to know each other.”
    Tess smiled, tapped her glass to Willa’s. “I’ll drink to that.”

NINETEEN
    “W HAT ’ S THE POINT ?” WILLA ASKED AS SHE FROWNED down at her toenails, currently being painted Poppy Pink by a technician. “Nobody sees them but me, and I don’t pay much attention to my toenails.”
    “Which was quite obvious,” Tess returned, pleased with her Ravage Red polish. “Before Marla worked her magic on you, your toenails looked like they’d been groomed with a lawn mower.”
    “So?”
    Willa hated the fact that she was actually enjoying most of the process—which had included her new favorite, foot massage. She turned to the opposite side of the padded pedicure bench where Lily was beaming down at her half-painted toes.
    “You really think Adam’s going to go for—what is it”—Willa cocked her head to read the label on the bottle of polish—“Calypso Coral?”
    “It makes me feel pretty.” Smiling, Lily admired her nails, already shaped and slicked with matching lacquer. “Grown-up and pretty.” She looked over at Tess. “I guess that’s the point, isn’t it?”
    “There.” As if after a long classroom lecture a student had finally grasped the formula, Tess clapped, careful to guard her nails against smears. “At last some simple common sense. A smart woman doesn’t dress up and decorate herself for a man. She does it for herself first. Then for other women, who are the only species that really notices