Free Too Close to Touch by Georgia Beers

Kylie’s face.
    Kylie looked blank.
    “The Black Widow,” Mick clariÞ ed. “You’re coming out to meet us, right?”
    Kylie’s eyes ß ashed in what Gretchen could only describe as disbelief.
    Mick backed down the hall, talking hurriedly. “I think that cute little redheaded chick that bought you all those drinks last time is going to be there, too.” Winking, she added, “You know she wants you.” Then she turned and practically ß ed, leaving Kylie to stand in the middle of the hallway, blinking, her face a bright red.
    Gretchen could feel the embarrassment emanating like heat from Kylie and suspected that a minor power play had just taken place between the two women. Wasn’t that interesting? she thought to herself.
    Attempting to ease Kylie’s apparent shame, she said, “Wow. Has she got a thing for you or what?”
    Kylie gave a tiny gasp and stared at the ß oor, probably expecting it to open and swallow her.
    “I can’t Þ gure out these damn reports of Jim’s,” Gretchen continued casually and headed into her ofÞ ce. “Can you show me where this stuff is hiding?”
    She glanced back at Kylie, hoping she’d made light of the situation sufÞ ciently to relieve any awkwardness. But Kylie looked shell-shocked and seemed unable to make eye contact. Slowly, she trailed into the ofÞ ce.
    Gretchen sat at her desk and pointed to some items on her computer
    • 60 •
    TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH
    monitor. “What is this?” she asked. “And why can’t I Þ nd the expense reports? Shouldn’t they be here?”
    Kylie stood behind the chair, one hand on the back of it, and reached over Gretchen’s shoulder to take the mouse. A gentle scent tickled Gretchen’s senses, and she was shocked to Þ nd herself trying to identify Kylie’s perfume. They’d never been this close before and she had to Þ ght to keep from squirming. She gazed down at Kylie’s hand on the mouse, Þ nger clicking. The skin on her forearm was covered with a soft-looking layer of blond, downy hairs, and several freckles marked a path to the bend of her elbow. Only when Kylie spoke did Gretchen begin paying attention to what was happening on the screen.
    “Jim liked to hide his Þ les here.” Kylie moved the curser down a list of headings. “I have no idea why. He was sort of funny like that. I can help you Þ nd the rest of the stuff. I know where most of it is. He wasn’t terribly organized.”
    “Maybe we can work out a system together that we can both follow easily?”
    “Sure.” Kylie backed away slightly from Gretchen’s chair, her expression still just shy of mortiÞ ed.
    Her consternation was distracting and Gretchen sighed. “Kylie, relax. I’m not really sure what that was all about out there, but I don’t care. I suspect Ms. Ramsey informed you that she and I met at the Black Widow the weekend before I started working here. So, you can see how your sexuality is no big deal to me.”
    “Okay.” A small sliver of relief tried to push its way onto Kylie’s face. She blinked and looked directly at Gretchen. “Can I ask you something?”
    “Sure.”
    “Who’s the guy in the picture?” Kylie pointed to the frame on the desk in front of her.
    “Him?” Gretchen held up the picture in question. “This is Pete.
    He’s my ex-husband and my best friend.” As she set the picture back down, she smiled. “Actually, he’s my best friend Þ rst and ex-husband second. That was a long, long time ago.”
    “You were married?”
    “A long, long time ago,” Gretchen repeated, still grinning.
    Glancing up, she said, “You look surprised. Why? Didn’t you have a boyfriend in high school or college?”
    Kylie nodded cautiously, and Gretchen could see she was
    • 61 •
    GEORGIA BEERS
    disconcerted by the somewhat intimate turn the conversation had taken.
    Though she certainly hadn’t planned to lay out her life story, she felt safe conÞ ding in Kylie, and continued.
    “I was not only a late bloomer, but it took me well into