Page 1 of Stay Here Tonight
Chapter 1
The best part of Lydia’s job was how often Maxine Woodward came in.
She was a legend around that sunny part of California. The Woodwards were already rich when Maxine was born, making her an heiress in her own right. Except it was what Maxine accomplished after college that changed the family fortunes. Now they were one of the top three richest families in a county that already boasted its share of multimillionaires.
These days, Maxine spent most of her time fielding charities and turning herself into a west coast Kathryn Alison with the money she accrued every day thanks to smart investments. Whoever Kathryn was. Lydia didn’t bother with the society pages, particularly those from New England. There was enough scandal coming from Hollywood.
In contrast, Lydia Kellerman was nobody special. Student loans from a college nobody had ever heard of because it never made lists – not even the “worst” lists. A degree that sounded great at the time, but had so far landed her exactly two jobs, neither of which paid enough to get rid of those loans. A tiny studio apartment above a greasy restaurant and adjacent nail salon. No car, no license. Not even Lydia’s face was anything marvelous. Oh, she didn’t make people cower in fear and shield their eyes when she walked into a room, but like her alma mater, Lydia was not someone anyone knew.
Which probably explained why Maxine never seemed to know who she was, even though they saw each other once or twice a week for the past few months.
Lydia co-ran the front desk of the LGBT resource and social center, a position that was often called “volunteer” during the leaner months. So whenever Maxine entered, her golden sunglasses gracing that sharp nose, Lydia was the first one she saw. In return, Lydia was the first one to have a heart attack.
Because Maxine was the definition ofridiculously hot.
Age and money had been kind to the thirty-three-year-old businesswoman. Mostly the age, but the money certainly helped tailor those clothes and frost those tips. Not a single day arrived where shedidn’tsport a plain, dark T-shirt and slacks combo. If it wasn’t at least eighty degrees outside, she’d throw a blazer on – otherwise Lydia made an ass out of herself by staring at the hint of cleavage poking out of those V-necks.I’m so pathetic.That’s what she thought one otherwise sleepy Wednesday afternoon, when Maxine strolled through the glass doors, one hand hanging in her pocket and the other carrying a manila folder full of information she doubtlessly needed to trade with the head of the resource center.
Maxine didn’t always come for meetings. She taught personal finance classes aimed at one of America’s most economically vulnerable groups and often gave free seminars regarding small business and entrepreneurship. She was on the board of directors for the Pride committee and had been the Grand Marshall twice out of the past seven years.No wonder she doesn’t remember me. She’s so busy…
Once Lydia realized her crazy crush was heading straight for her, she forced her spine straight and pushed her thin brown hair behind her ears. Why had she worn it in a messy bun that morning?My glasses! They’re so ugly!
“Ms. Woodward!” Nope, nope, nope. Lydia needed to dial that shit back before she embarrassed herself. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
Maxine lifted her sunglasses up, but her eyes were focused on the topmost paper in her folder. “Is Francis in?”
“Uh… no. The director’s still at lunch.”
Finally, Maxine glanced at her. Amber-hued eyes full of judgmental ire. Great. Some messenger was about to get shot.
“In that case,” the folder flipped shut, and Maxine was back to looking away from Lydia, “I’ll go find her wherever she’s having lunch. This is that important.”
“I…” Even if she knew where the hell her boss was, Lydia couldn’t say she was comfortable sending Maxine after her. “I honestly don’t know where she’s having her lunch.”
The cold pause hanging between them like an icicle ready to crash into the desk made Lydia wonder what the hell she had done wrong this time. “It was a joke, I assure you.”
“Oh.”
Maxine pulled the folder off the desk. “If you see her come in, tell her I’m in the classroom and that I want to see her as soon as she can.”
“Yes, Ms. Woodward.”
“Thank you.” Those other-worldly eyes looked down at Lydia’s nametag.Oh my God. It’s right on my boob. She’s looking at my… never mind.“Lydia.”
The woman was gone within a few more seconds. Lydia exhaled a sigh of relief. As much as she loved gazing at both Maxine’s front and back, talking to her was a true test in self-preservation. Lydia couldn’t stand the way her mouth went dry and the rest of her body staged a coup so she could get so turned on she wanted to run homeright now.
“Fuck me,” Lydia muttered. For all the good Maxine did for the community and parts of America at large, she was an ice queen from top to bottom. Even her students commented that they were intimidated by her frank manner of speaking and her rigid posture – she reminded them of the surlier substitute teachers they had as children. Lydia had never seen a woman on Maxine’s arm, even though the businesswoman was as gay as the Pride flag. The woman had published a book about lesbian businesses in North America. Lydia often imagined going up to the author and asking her to sign a paperback copy, but so far Lydia only had the e-book and, unfortunately, was too chickenshit to ask anything other than,“How can I help you today?
Also unfortunately for her, that did not get“Meet me in the back room sans your panties, Miss Kellerman,”because Lydia would not pretend to be a blushing virgin even for the cost of her student loans.
Okay, maybe blushing. Not a virgin, but definitely blushing whenever Maxine was around.
“You’re drooling again,” a voice hissed behind her.
Lydia nearly leaped out of her seat. Her chair spun around, taking her for a ride along with it. There was Joanie, the other day-shift manager of the front desk who often did odd jobs around the place, leaving Lydia to fend for herself more often than not.
Once her heart attack abated, Lydia said, “I am not.”
Joanie hopped into another aging swivel chair, crossing her sweater-covered arms and puffing out her cheeks in disbelief. “You dirty liar. Every time Maxine Woodward comes in here, your brain pops out of your ear and scuttles off to parts unknown. You’ve got it bad.”
