Never Too Late Read online

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  About the Author

  Books Available from Bold Strokes Books

  Synopsis

  What happens when a single night of unexpected passion with a stranger leaves you wanting more?

  Twenty years later, Dr. Jamie Hammond thinks she’s put that night far behind her. She’s a successful chiropractor and is about to celebrate a ten-year anniversary with her partner. But instead of reaping the benefits of responsibility and hard work, she finds herself fighting to save her business and relationship as doubt, betrayal, and disappointment tear at the fabric of her life.

  Carla Grant is looking for a new challenge after settling her daughter at college. She never imagines that applying for an office manager position will change her life.

  As Jamie and Carla work to save Jamie’s business, they will have to examine everything they thought they knew about love, responsibility, and family. Can two women dare to believe that it’s never too late for happily ever after?

  Never Too Late

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  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  Never Too Late

  © 2014 By Julie Blair. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-270-0

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: November 2014

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Shelley Thrasher

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Gabrielle Pendergrast

  Acknowledgments

  I can’t describe the feeling when Radclyffe offered me the chance to become part of her extraordinary publishing company, Bold Strokes Books. My deepest gratitude to her for this chance of a lifetime.

  My pursuit of making every sentence, chapter, and story better has been gracefully and expertly guided by my writing coach, Deb Norton. Thanks for her unwavering belief that writing matters and that I can do it. Her story wisdom shows in every part of this book.

  I was terrified of my first editing experience, and Dr. Shelley Thrasher made it the perfect combination of teaching and encouragement. Thank you for showing me how to sort, lighten, and tighten my story.

  Thank you to Sandy Lowe for her ultra professionalism and infinite patience.

  Thanks to Cindy, Toni, Gabrielle, and the rest of the talented and dedicated staff at BSB who helped my story become a polished, published book with a beautiful cover. Thanks to my fellow BSB authors who have been so welcoming.

  For me, writing is a roller coaster of ecstasy and agony, confidence and doubt, taking risks and battling fear. I’m grateful for friends and family who provide support, encouragement, and common sense when I need it. Dena and Susan, Ginny, Patricia, Cliona, Devon, Val, my aunt Lila, and my niece Summer—thanks for believing in me.

  I’ve loved Melissa Etheridge’s music since hearing her thirty years ago under a starry sky at the West Coast Women’s Music Festival. Her song “The Wanting of You” was the inspiration for this book.

  Thanks to all the readers of lesbian fiction. I’ve been a huge fan of the genre since discovering it in the late seventies and I’m honored by this chance to make a contribution to our growing body of work. I hope you like it.

  Dedication

  To Dena Mason—from softball diamonds to fly-fishing streams, thanks for a lifetime of friendship.

  Prologue

  September 1991

  Jamie scooted her duffel with her foot and hiked her backpack up on her shoulder as she took a step closer to the Delta Airlines counter. It was Labor Day, and Atlanta’s International Airport was a madhouse as people hurried for flights. The nearer she got to the counter, the more the anxiety that had left her alone over the weekend returned. The four days at the Southern Women’s Music and Comedy Festival was worth the argument with her father about being away from the practice. She’d never forget all those tents spread out among the pine trees, the lake and tennis court she’d made good use of, the covered pavilion for the nightly concerts and dances. Or the women who’d redefined her idea of hospitality. Boarding that plane meant saying good-bye to her last hurrah of fun and freedom before settling down to a responsibility she wasn’t sure she wanted.

  A rowdy group of teenaged girls walked to a nearby gate with bat bags over their shoulders, led by a woman about her age with Coach written across her cap. That might have been her life, but it was too late now.

  Tomorrow morning she’d walk back into Hammond Chiropractic Clinic, not as a child visiting her father, not as a part-time receptionist during summer vacations, but as the newly licensed chiropractor in her father’s highly successful practice. He made being a doctor look easy. She tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack. It wasn’t. By the end of the day she was so exhausted she barely managed to microwave a bag of popcorn before collapsing on the couch to watch mindless adventure movies. She’d tried to talk to him, but he’d brushed her off, saying, “Just focus on the patient and everything will be fine.” Had he ever been afraid?

  Jamie studied the woman in front of her. About her age, she wore navy slacks and a scoop-neck white T-shirt, a white sweater draped over her arm. What was she going home to? Or maybe she was flying to San Francisco for vacation. As the woman moved up to the counter Jamie stepped into a whiff of perfume, richly sweet, almost tropical. It seemed at odds with her stiff posture, conservative dress, and tight ponytail.

  “The flight’s been cancelled,” the attendant told the woman. “We can get you on a flight tomorrow afternoon, and you’ll get a voucher for the Best Western across the street.”

  Cancelled? Had she heard right?

  “Please, I really need to get home today.” The woman’s voice was soft and most definitely Southern. “Isn’t there any other flight?”

  Jamie’s shoulders relaxed. Yes. A reprieve.

  “That’s the best we can do.”

  The woman took the ticket and picked up
a suitcase, looked around as if confused, and then slumped onto one of the gray metal seats in the boarding area. She dropped her head into her hands.

  Jamie smiled at the attendant—Marge, according to her nametag—who asked for her ticket. “I’m not in a hurry.”

  “I appreciate that, Dr. Hammond.”

  Dr. Hammond. Would she ever get used to being called that? As Marge’s fingers flew over the keyboard, Jamie noted the short hair and lack of makeup and decided to take a chance.

  “Maybe you could join me for dinner.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of Marge’s mouth. “I’m just starting my shift, but I can recommend some places if you don’t mind going back into Atlanta.” Marge handed Jamie her ticket and a folded piece of paper. “And a place you might enjoy if you like to dance. Enjoy your evening, Dr. Hammond.”

  Jamie hefted her duffel on her shoulder and stepped away from the counter, thrilled at her good luck. She was going to make this night count. She tucked the piece of paper into the back pocket of her favorite jeans, a new rip over her right kneecap, the result of tripping over a tree root while staring at a brunette with the kind of delts that made her mouth water. The woman laughed as she helped her up, and they’d spent a pleasurable afternoon in her tent. Southern women sure understood hospitality.

  As she passed the woman from the line, she scooted around several people and sat next to her. The woman’s head was down, her hands folded in her lap. Jamie wanted to fix whatever was upsetting her. Southern women had captivated her, and she wanted to make this one smile.

  “Can I help?” Jamie asked gently, resisting the urge to wrap the woman in her arms until she stopped crying.

  The woman looked up, seeming startled. The most beautiful eyes Jamie had ever seen captured her—amber, edged with delicate golden lashes. Even glistening with tears, they were kind eyes, eyes you could trust. “No, thank you,” the woman said in that delicious Southern accent. The tight smile seemed more polite than genuine, but it was a start.

  “What’s wrong?” Jamie rummaged in her backpack and handed the woman a Kleenex.

  “I was looking forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight.” The woman dabbed her eyes. “And I only have a few dollars on me and can’t find my credit card. I must have left it at my mom’s.” She clutched her purse to her stomach.

  Jamie rested her hand on the neatly pressed slacks. “It’s okay. I’ll cover you. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  “That’s kind of you, but I couldn’t.” The woman dabbed her eyes again.

  “Don’t be silly. You can send me the money when you get home, if that makes you feel better.” Jamie settled her backpack squarely on both shoulders and swung the strap of her carryon over her head. She put her hand under the woman’s elbow and guided her up, steadying her as she swayed for a moment.

  “Let me take that.” Jamie picked up the small suitcase and cut a path for them through the crowd. “I’m Jamie, by the way.”

  “Carly.”

  Finally Jamie was rewarded with a genuine smile. She almost reached to wipe off a smudge of pale-pink lipstick at the corner of Carly’s mouth. “I need to make a call,” she said, as they passed a bank of phones.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Carly said, pressing her palm to her chest. “So do I.”

  Jamie handed Carly a quarter and then dialed her father’s office, hoping he wouldn’t answer. She wondered who the “him” was Carly was leaving a message for, entranced by the way she drew out syllables as if in no hurry to speak. If only her own life were in no hurry.

  “Mary, it’s Jamie. Tell Dad my flight got cancelled and I can’t get another one until tomorrow…Yes, I know it’s hard for you to reschedule my patients but…All right, add them to Wednesday’s schedule.” Jamie hung up and tried to calm her racing heart. Reprieve. One more night of freedom.

  “Let’s go have some fun,” Jamie said, picking up their luggage.

  Jamie studied Carly as they stood under the sign for the Best Western shuttle. She usually went for athletic types, the more muscular the better, but something soft and inviting about this woman made her want to cuddle up against her. Noting the absence of a ring on her left hand, she wondered if she had a chance. She assumed Carly was straight, but if the opportunity presented itself she wouldn’t turn it down.

  “Are you feeling all right?” Carly looked pale in spite of the heat.

  “Just tired and kind of hungry.”

  Jamie unzipped an outer pocket on her backpack and held up two items. “Power Bar or apple?” Carly hesitated. “Go on. Can’t have you fainting. Then I’d have to carry you.”

  “Thank you.” Carly took the apple, wiped it off on her sweater, and took a bite.

  “Do you really want to spend the night out here in the middle of nowhere? How about if we grab a cab into Atlanta and get a room somewhere downtown? We can go out to dinner, have some fun.” When Carly hesitated, Jamie added, “You’d be doing me a favor. I’d rather not go out alone.” It wasn’t true, but she really wanted to go out with this woman.

  “Are you sure, Jamie? I can’t pay—”

  “I’m positive. Come on. We’ll have a blast.” Jamie picked up their bags and hustled toward a waiting cab before Carly changed her mind.

  *

  Carly rested against the cab door as they drove through downtown Atlanta, answering Jamie’s questions about the city she’d lived in until a few months ago. Her mother’s penetrating voice invaded her thoughts, as though she was second-guessing her judgment, warning her that she was too trusting and knew nothing about this woman. She folded her arms and straightened her shoulders. Doing something a little reckless after the week of stony silence from her father and angry stares from her mother gave her a rebellious feeling she liked.

  “Check that out.” Jamie pointed to the marquee in front of the arena on their left. “Melissa Etheridge is playing tonight. Wow! Hey, stop.”

  “No place to pull over, lady,” the cabbie said as he continued past the arena. Several blocks later he pulled into a Holiday Inn.

  “Okay if we share a room?” Jamie took a wallet from her back pocket when they got to the registration desk.

  “Um, sure,” Carly said. She’d never stayed in a hotel room with anyone, not even her boyfriend Mike, but it would be rude to object when Jamie was paying.

  Inside the sixth-floor room, Jamie tossed their bags on one of the queen-sized beds and opened the curtains. “What a view.”

  Carly collapsed on the other bed, yawning, cupping her hands behind her head. This was definitely better than spending the night in the airport or, worse yet, calling her parents for help. It would be fun, like the slumber parties she used to go to.

  “Let’s go see if we can get tickets to the concert and then get you something to eat.”

  “What concert?” Carly closed her eyes, ready to fall asleep.

  “Melissa Etheridge.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Oh, my God. She’s the hottest woman rocker around!”

  Carly opened her eyes when Jamie landed on the bed next to her and giggled when Jamie dramatically draped her arm over her eyes. Jamie pulled her arm away, and warm brown eyes captured her.

  “And even better, she’s a lesbian.”

  Carly’s breath caught in her throat. Did that mean Jamie was? Maybe sharing a room with her wasn’t a good idea. She sat up against the headboard and tugged her T-shirt down over her waist.

  Jamie scooted up next to her, and their shoulders touched. “I saw her about five years ago at the West Coast Women’s Music Festival,” Jamie said, tapping her feet together as if to music. “God, she was hot. You just knew she was going to make it big. I heard her again last year at this club in San Francisco. That rock beat and all those women. I still remember—”

  Carly realized she was staring when Jamie stopped in midsentence.

  “Sorry. Guess I got a little carried away. You’re okay with it, aren’t you? My being gay, I mean?”

>   Carly knew what she should say, but nothing about Jamie seemed dangerous. Her warm smile clinched it. Carly didn’t want to be like her mother. “Sure.”

  “Great!” Jamie hopped off the bed and unzipped her duffel, pawing through it. She held up a white T-shirt with Southern Women’s Music and Comedy Festival across the front.

  Carly didn’t realize until it was too late that Jamie was going to change right in front of her. She followed the path of Jamie’s T-shirt as it revealed her flat stomach, the flare of her rib cage, and breasts straining against the tight white tank top. Carly had never seen a woman with chest and arm muscles like this. Jamie scrubbed her hands briskly through the loosely permed dark curls that framed her face, then stretched her arms over her head and arched her back. When Jamie reached for her zipper, Carly stood and faced the window, feeling light-headed. “I think I need to eat.”

  “Do you want to change? Like into jeans?”

  “Um, I don’t have any jeans.” Carly looked down at her slacks and low heels and then back at Jamie. “Maybe you should just go without me.” All of a sudden she didn’t feel up to going to a rock concert, especially with someone as sexy as Jamie. Carly looked back at the street below, afraid she was blushing. She’d never thought that about a woman.

  “No way. You look terrific. I feel kind of shabby next to you.”

  Carly laughed at Jamie’s obvious attempt to make her feel better. Her enthusiasm was infectious and such a relief after her mother’s negativity. “Not if my frumpiness doesn’t embarrass you.”

  “Carly, there’s nothing frumpy about you.” Jamie’s eyes drifted slowly up her body, displaying nothing but kindness and appreciation.

  Carly liked how Jamie treated her. Coming into Atlanta had been a good choice. Her life would resume its course tomorrow, but tonight she wanted to be confident and adventurous like Jamie. What could be the harm?