Free Sheltering Dunes by Radclyffe Page A

staring at Mica, tossing out a flirtatious remark as she passed, hoping to draw her attention. She tried not to watch her, but Mica was the most attractive woman in the room—her tight faded jeans hugged her curvaceous butt, and her sleeveless T-shirt with a washed-out Harley-Davidson logo stretched tightly across her full breasts showed off her lithe, muscular arms. When she bent over, the shirt slid up her back and a bit of ink showed above the waistband of her hip-huggers. The tat was big, and with a twinge in her belly that ought to have been a warning but just felt good, Flynn wondered how low it went. In a word, Mica was built, and combined with the strong, broad planes of her face, her luminous dark eyes, and full lips, that spelled downright gorgeous. Who wouldn’t want to look at her?
    So Flynn looked, and occasionally when Mica glanced her way, Flynn thought she caught a flicker of a pleased smile. Maybe Mica really had been flirting with her earlier. She wasn’t entirely certain she read signals from women accurately. When she’d first gone out with Allie, she’d told Allie she wasn’t a virgin, which was true, but she still didn’t have a lot of experience. Celibacy wasn’t a requirement in the seminary, but she’d been far too busy at first with her studies, and then too busy falling in love with the wrong woman, to get much practice. After she’d left, she’d dated, but she still felt like she was learning the rules. Not that the rules mattered right at the moment. She wasn’t dating Mica.
    Just that morning, Mica had been her patient, and Flynn wasn’t the kind of paramedic who followed up with patients for any reason—social or medical. She didn’t track down ER staff to find out what happened to the injured she’d delivered to the hospital or to discover the fate of the babies she’d transported in the back of the medic unit on a wild ride through dark streets at night. She was happier walking away, doing what she could in the moment and then letting go. She didn’t need to know. She couldn’t change the outcome. She needed a clear beginning and a definite end that had nothing to do with her, except for those few critical moments when she was certain she was doing the right thing. In this one area, emergency care, she trusted her instincts. She trusted herself.
    Unlike a few of the others, she’d never once tried to date anyone she’d met on a call, even when their injuries had been minor or nonexistent and the call had turned out to be more social than medical. She’d vowed never to let her personal and professional lives bleed into each other again. Walking Mica home was almost an exception to her rule, but as long as she was only being friendly… She caught herself up short, wondering if she was lying to herself the same way she had lied to herself about Evelyn.
    At first she’d denied her attraction, then called her growing desire friendship, and only when she’d confessed her feelings had she been abruptly reminded she’d willingly misread everything. If she hadn’t been so involved with her own personal anguish over Evelyn, maybe she would have seen Debbie’s pain more clearly. Maybe everything would have been different. If Evelyn had been her only mistake, she might have been able to forgive herself.
    Flynn closed her eyes and let the pain wash through her on the familiar crest of guilt and remorse.
    “You ready?” Mica asked, sliding up next to her.
    Flynn hadn’t seen Mica come around the end of the bar. She hadn’t seen anything as she’d looked inward and backward, replaying what she hadn’t said—what she should have done—and how the outcome might have been different if she’d had better instincts. If she’d had the instincts she’d needed and once believed she’d had. If she’d been a better priest.
    “Yeah, sure.” Flynn stood.
    “You okay?” Mica didn’t move and Flynn ended up standing very close to her. So close the scent of dark spices and a hint