“It’s good now, but it’ll probably never stop. It was pretty rocky before I realized the divinity in all things—especially in myself.”
I hadn’t lived in Santa Fe for fifteen years without hearing ideas like that before. “Ditched Christianity, eh?”
Hope laughed. “From good Presbyterian wife to wing nut. It wasn’t an easy decision, but Christianity has never been good for women. Now my holy trinity is Mind, Body, and Spirit, and I don’t need approval from anyone or anything outside myself.” She swallowed and studied a clam for a moment. “What about you? How’s your voyage?”
I shrugged. “Love my folks, but they’re Christian hypocrites. I live by Christian ethics as I understand them, but that background left me mostly agnostic, and mostly doing things more interesting than goin’ to church.” I watched her over my wine glass for a moment before I set it down. “What do you do with your new independence?”
It seemed like a simple question, but her reaction made me think I’d made a mistake. She didn’t answer at first. She sipped her wine and studied my face.
I could tell when Hope decided how to answer. She glanced behind me, leaned close, and kept her voice low. “I had no-one but myself to answer to, so I decided that I wanted sex—a lot of sex. It brings my mind, my body, and my spirit together.”
Could’ve knocked me over with a feather.
The server stopped by our table and filled our water glasses while he checked on us. “Done,” I told him. “Could I get a coffee—just black, please?”
Hope ordered a latte, and the server left us looking at each other. “Does that explain your interest in me?” I asked.
A smile curled her lips. “It does. I wanted to know what was under that nice hat. It is your most important erogenous zone.” She sat up with her hands in her lap. “Now that you know, where do we go from here?”
I answered the wrong question. “After coffee, to Belle’s reception for Senator Gutierrez.” That bought me a few more seconds to gather my thoughts, and I waited while the server cleared the table and brought our drinks.
My words came slowly. “I was mostly curious about you when we set this up. I expected interesting company, and maybe a contact—I don’t know enough architects. Maybe sex is always in the back of my mind, but I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend.”
Hope sipped her latte and set it in front of her. “And I don’t want a boyfriend. I want a lover who will be patient and intelligent. What do you want?”
My coffee had a nutty flavor. It was strong with a hint of sweetness. I watched Hope with that flavor on my lips, and her refugee look suddenly seemed, to me, to be ultimately feminine. “I’ve learned patience by now. Don’t know about intelligence, but I want to see where this road goes.”
I helped Hope into her long sweater when the coffee was gone and the bill was paid, and I stood back when she tossed her braid over her shoulder. I walked her to my SUV with my arm around her waist and helped her into the passenger seat. Her scent and every movement she made were excitingly sensual—or was that my imagination?
I settled behind the wheel and found Hope rubbing her hands with lotion from a small bottle she put away in her pocket. I started the engine and watched for a moment then turned in my seat and held my hand out. “Give me your hand?”
“Why?” she asked, but offered her left hand without waiting then pulled it back and gave me her right hand.
“You liked my hands when we met, and I liked yours. They should be together.” I stroked her hand as I talked—loosening it and gently stretching her thumb, then her first finger, and then her second finger.
“Where did you learn to do that?” she asked, and she offered her other hand. “It’s really relaxing.”
“One of my first girlfriends read about it, and we experimented on each other.” I turned Hope’s hand over and touched the button on her frilly cuff. “Never even seen your wrist. May I?”
Hope answered with a nod and I unbuttoned her cuff. I stroked her soft skin with my fingertips, and she released her breath. “This feels like foreplay.”
“It is, ma’am.” I tucked one hand under her braid and pulled her close. I could smell jasmine on Hope’s skin and the remnant latte on her breath when I brushed her lips with mine and slipped my hand up her arm. I caressed the soft skin in the crook of her elbow and told her, “Any part of your body that doesn’t usually get touched can be erogenous.”
Hope shuddered, and she pushed herself away. “I don’t get touched nearly enough.” She buttoned her cuff and smoothed her dress. “Let’s get your reception out of the way.”
Belle’s house sprawled on a ridge overlooking the city lights. We hung Hope’s sweater and my hat inside the door and stopped at the reception table to drop off a check from the association. I made my rounds while Hope found the bathroom, and an amused smile curled her lips when she found me again.
“Something’s funny?” I asked. I studied the buttons that closed her high collar, and when I looked up at her eyes I realized they were green. I’d never seen her under enough light to guess at her eye color.
“Some women here must know you pretty well. I just heard one of them call me ‘Adam’s new pony.’ I should have been offended, but I laughed.”
We were interrupted by a matronly woman gleaming in silver and turquoise. “Adam!” Belle said, in a voice made for the open range. “Sam’s campaign manager just told us about your check from the Cattle Grower’s. He’s very pleased.”
“Wasn’t the least we could do,” I said, and took Belle’s hand when she offered it. “We’re happy with the help Sam gives us.” Belle Grant was a bigger-than-life conservative in a mostly progressive town, and right then her attention was more on Hope than it was on me.
I introduced Hope as my friend the architect, and Hope explained, “I do planning, mostly for rural and native communities.”
That was when Sam Gutierrez stepped around Belle. I shook his hand, we slapped each other’s arms, and he echoed Belle’s thanks. He scanned Hope up and down then asked under his breath, “What commune were you trolling in when you caught her?”
“Met her downtown,” I said, and let it drop. Maybe Sam wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer.
Belle squeezed Hope’s arm and waved to someone across the room. She left as quickly as she arrived, and Sam trailed after her. I was still watching them when Hope tugged on my arm. She whinnied in my ear, and asked, “Are you ready to ride out of here?”
“Rarin’ to go,” I said, motioned after Sam, and guided Hope to the door. “The good Senator was wondering which commune I found you in.”
Hope turned to face me after I helped her into her sweater. “I think your group here is pretty out of touch.”
I followed Hope out the door, put my hat on, and closed the door behind us. She stopped by my truck and looked at the city lights below. “Belle has a nice view.”
“So do I,” I said, and turned her to face me. “But it could be even better.” I touched the button below her chin. “If I could open your collar.”
Hope’s only answer was to lift her chin. I opened one button at a time and reached under the fabric to touch her graceful neck with my fingertips. She made my mouth water, so I laid my hat on top the SUV, and she tipped her head to the side while I kissed the tender skin on her throat, and then behind her ear.