A SEAL's Kiss. Tawny Weber
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While Sage had no idea what she wanted, and bounced from idea to idea, first in her one-year attempt at college, then later in her varied and sundry jobs throughout the country.
But Nina was totally focused on exactly what she wanted. After graduation, it’d been to get into UC Davis. After college, it’d been to get a job as a viticulture researcher at the local winery. And now, at twenty-five they all knew getting married was next up on Nina’s schedule.
“You know what you want,” Nina said in a soothing tone.
“I don’t think move out of my mom’s apartment and find a job that pays enough to cover my student loans is exactly knowing what I want,” Cailley said, her lower lip shifting into a pout.
Poor Cailley. Unlike Sage, who was happy to move on to the next job when one didn’t fit, Cailley was desperately trying to find that perfect match.
“Hey, I met this guy last week who used to work as a headhunter for a big corporation,” Nina said, snapping her fingers. “He’s got lots of training in career counseling. You should talk with him.”
Her pout forgotten, Cailley gave an excited yes.
“How about you, Sage? Did you want to talk to him while you’re home, too?” Nina offered tentatively.
“A career counselor? No, but thanks,” Sage refused with a laugh, taking her filled plate to a small table and settling in to enjoy the meal.
“You really should. If you don’t, you’ll just keep bouncing around, not getting ahead.”
“I’m fine with that. There is so much out there to see and do and explore.” The possibilities were endless. She wanted to find something that touched her soul. That made her spirit sing. All she had to do was keep looking until she found it. “Why dismiss any of the possibilities until I’ve tried them all?”
“Is that what you say about the guys?” Nina joked.
“Only until she finds the right guy,” Cailley tossed in. “As soon as that happens, Sage will settle down fast.”
Settle down? As in, quit searching for her bliss? Live in one place, for the rest of her life? Do the same thing day in and day out?
Sage shuddered. If that wasn’t incentive to avoid that particular guy, she didn’t know what was.
One year ago
“SERIOUSLY? A twenties-themed wedding?” Sage adjusted her headband, which kept trying to slide over her forehead, making her look like a drunken goth-style flapper. At least her bridesmaid dress was black, the beads glinting in the candlelight to match the blue tips of her razor-cut black hair. “What was Cailley thinking?”
“Well, Eric proposed at that Johnny Depp gangster movie, so they thought it’d be a fun, romantic way to commemorate it,” AnaMaria said, looking much more suited to the flapper theme with her cute red curls and matching lipstick. “You missed all the pre-wedding fun though. They had a Bonnie-and-Clyde-style picnic, complete with vintage cars and barbecue yesterday.”
“I feel horrible about that, too,” Sage said with a grimace. “I’d have loved to see the cars. My dad was talking about it all the way from the airport this morning.”
She didn’t want to admit that she’d barely made it for the wedding at all. Dave, her boyfriend until last week, had hocked her original plane ticket that would have gotten here a week ago. She’d found out the night before her flight was due to leave, then had had to work overtime at the coffee bar all week, call in a few favors and borrow against her next paycheck to replace it. She’d covered the last-minute fare difference by selling Dave’s drum set.
She’d thought she wanted a guy who needed her. That maybe being a part of helping him find his passion was her way to bliss. But there wasn’t much bliss to be found in giving a wannabe diva a free ride.
“So what’s the deal?” AnaMaria asked quietly after a few seconds.
“Deal?” Sage prevaricated. Sharing the fact that she’d just ended yet another unfulfillingly dead-end, soul-dimming relationship wasn’t her idea of wedding fun.
“Yeah. The deal. Just a month ago you were talking about how fun this visit was going to be. Two weeks ago, in between your call for donations to the animal shelter, you blogged about introducing the boyfriend to your friends. So...where’s the hot rock-star boyfriend? Why weren’t you here a week ago? And why do you look so bummed?” Clearly out of breath, but not questions, AnaMaria filled her lungs and looked like she was going to keeping going.
Sage held up one hand before the other woman said anything else and shook her head. This was a sitting-down sort of conversation, so she glanced around.
“Let’s chill,” she suggested, waving her hand to indicate one of the small tables in the corner.
“I don’t think the Seattle scene is really me,” she admitted when they were settled. She ran her fingers over the smooth satin tablecloth, letting the fabric cool her stress. “I thought I wanted something intense, you know. The rock scene, music, the passion of it. But I’m not finding what I need there.”
“Dave wasn’t passionate enough?” AnaMaria asked, scooting her chair closer and leaning her head in, making it clear that she was ready to hear any and all naughty details.
And oh, the details they were. Sage pressed her lips together, then shrugged. Why not? She hadn’t come away with much from the relationship, she might as well have fun now.
“He was passionate about his music. So much so that he could only get it up if his tunes were playing in the background,” she dished, leaning close to offer a wicked smile and a wriggle of her brows. “And mirrors. He liked doing it in front of mirrors.”
AnaMaria’s mouth rounded into an O.
“Well, that’s kinda sexy, right?” the redhead asked, her cheeks as bright as her hair now. “At least, I’ve heard it is.”
It was all Sage could do not to hug her close. For a woman married well over a year to a pretty hot cop, AnaMaria was awfully sheltered.
“The mirrors—plural, by the way—were always angled so he could focus on just him.” It’d been sexy the first time. Interesting the next few as she watched him flex and preen. Sorta like watching her own personal porn film. But the novelty had faded fast.
“Mirrors? Oh my.” Looking baffled, and a little intrigued, AnaMaria waved to the passing waiter, indicating she wanted whatever appetizers he was passing out. When it turned out to be stuffed mushrooms and bacon-wrapped scallops, Sage took a plate as well.
“But he was deep in the rock scene, right? You said you couldn’t wait to bask in the creative energy and grungy vibe,” AnaMaria asked after a few bites.
Sage’s lips twitched, wondering if it’d taken her friend all that time to find a safe response, or if she’d been trying to envision a guy who preferred sex with himself.
“In the four months we were together, he joined and left five bands, went through twelve tubes of eyeliner and had to be talked out of jumping off our first-floor balcony three times.”
“First-floor...”
“Balcony,” Sage finished, taking a glass of champagne from another passing waiter. “He liked the drama, but wasn’t a fan of anything physical. Like pain. Or work.”
“Except sex with mirrors,” AnaMaria intoned, grinning before sipping her own champagne.
“Exactly,” Sage agreed, figuring it was better to laugh through the pain. It was that or cry.
Was it too much to want a guy who was dedicated to what he did, had that deep passion for life—and the ability to please a woman without using strange kink? If he just had that, she’d put up with all of the negative qualities. Because if she was learning nothing else on this quest she called life, it was that everyone came with negatives. The