A Long List of Firsts: A Carlsbad Village Lesbian Romance Page 2

  “C’mon, Charlotte! You know me! I don’t do…this!…often!” Ainsley used her hands to indicate the outfit she was wearing.

  This was true. Usually, when Ainsley didn’t have to be at the hospital or on the volleyball court, she was the type of woman who enjoyed kicking it SoCal-style in shorts or maybe a midi skirt, a tank top and flip-flops. She would often go out of her way to avoid any formal occasions, in fact—the kinds of occasions that involved pulling out one of her various dresses or suits and getting all dolled up. The last time she had gone to this much effort wardrobe-wise was a couple of months ago, back in December, when she received the award as the Southern California Top Surgeon Under 30.

  The only reason she had decided to dress up today was because of her father. He had repeatedly told his only daughter that whenever she was meeting someone about a large purchase, that she should always, without fail, dress as if she could afford whatever it was she was considering buying. It would force salespeople to take her seriously right from the start.

  Charlotte said, “Hair down, Ains. Jesus, if I had your hair, I would never put it up. I wouldn’t even own a single scrunchie! I’d be, like, ‘A ponytail? What’s that?’”

  This was Charlotte’s frequent lament. The pediatrician had unremarkable mousy brown hair which she never stopped complaining about—and which was currently pulled back into a ponytail.

  In comparison, Ainsley’s hair was as if a heavenly being had figured out how to forge gold into curly, wavy locks of sunshine which, when she was wearing it down like now, fell to just past her shoulder blades.

  Examining her hair in the mirror, Ainsley gave it a few fluffs with the tips of her fingers and then deemed herself ready. Turning from the mirror, she presented herself for inspection to Charlotte.

  “It amazes me Georgia lets me spend time alone with you,” Charlotte said sarcastically, referring to her wife. “You look gorgeous! Thanks to me preventing you from putting your hair up, of course.”

  “Georgia lets you spend time alone with me because you said you’d leave her if she continued with the jealousy bullshit,” Ainsley pointed out, gathering some essential items and putting them in her purse.

  Georgia hated Ainsley. Charlotte insisted that hate was too strong a word. Intense dislike was her phrase of choice—which Ainsley once pointed out to her was the literal definition of the word hate. In any case, Georgia, being the jealous type, never liked Charlotte’s deep friendship with Ainsley, certain that Charlotte would inevitably fall under the spell of Ainsley’s looks and the two of them would start an affair.

  The idea was always laughable to Ainsley. And to Charlotte, for that matter. Charlotte preferred butches, which Ainsley was most definitely not. Ainsley, meanwhile, preferred women who had a more positive outlook on life, which Charlotte most certainly did not have.

  In any case, Ainsley and Charlotte had been friends since the first year of medical school, predating Charlotte’s marriage to Georgia, which meant Georgia just had to accept Ainsley being part of Charlotte’s life. Some time ago, Charlotte had threatened Georgia with divorce if Georgia didn’t keep her jealousy in check. And knowing Charlotte as well as she did, Ainsley knew that it hadn’t been an idle threat.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” Ainsley said, her purse slung over her shoulder.

  Charlotte got off the bed and the two of them left the bedroom of Ainsley’s San Diego condo, Ainsley towering over Charlotte who was not one of the less than five percent of little girls who grew up to be as tall as her friend.

  “It turns out Georgia will be at the shop most of the day,” Charlotte said, referring to the motorcycle repair shop Georgia managed. “If you get back early enough, do you want to meet Stacie and me at the gym for a quick practice?”

  That idea excited Ainsley, not only because it would mean she got to play a bit of volleyball—her favorite sport—but also because it would mean getting out of this lawyerly-type get-up she was wearing and into more comfortable clothes.

  “Deal,” she told her friend.

  Chapter 3

  Okay…ready.

  Rachel took one last look around the front room of the empty Haversham house, knowing it was needless to do so. Between the visit she paid to the place yesterday and the almost obsessive checks she made again this morning when she arrived, she knew the front room—and every other room in the house, for that matter—was as perfect as it was going to be.

  The wood plank flooring throughout the house was polished, the windows were spotless, having just been cleaned a couple of days ago by the cleaning service she used for such things, there were no unsightly cobwebs in the corners, fresh bulbs in all the lighting fixtures, the toilets all flushed and there were no strange smells.

  The kitchen, also, was immaculate. Rachel loved the kitchen in this house! As someone who enjoyed cooking, she could totally imagine herself making meals in this one! Before deciding to sell, the Havershams had remodeled the kitchen, knocking out a wall to make it twice its original size, installing a large island with a deep and double-sided stainless steel sink, plenty of countertop space of Travertine tile, glass-fronted cabinets and a new gas range and oven. What also made it spectacular was that there two were skylights in the kitchen which allowed the most gorgeous natural light to flood the room during the daytime.

  Rachel checked her watch. Ten minutes to eleven.

  She hurried into the master bedroom and once again checked her appearance in the mirrored closet doors.

  She looked fabulous.

  She was wearing her favorite blue pantsuit with a fitted boyfriend blazer and a soft pink cami top underneath providing a subtle pop of color. On her feet were open-toed black high-heeled pumps, giving her just a little more height. She looked professional but not uptight; competent but not unyielding.

  Today’s client was another referral from a previous client. Best of all, it was yet another doctor. A few months ago, Rachel had sold a stunning house in Vista, a town near Carlsbad, to a doctor and his wife who then started recommending Rachel to his other house-hunting doctor friends. Those doctor friends then started recommending Rachel to their doctor friends and so on. The result was an incredible boost to her earnings which made the other realtors at the firm she worked for more than a little envious. It had also earned her the nickname “The Doctor Whisperer.” In any case, if she could keep getting doctors referring her, she’d be able to start her own real estate brokerage sooner than she originally planned.

  “Hello?”

  The called-out greeting, coming from the front of the house, interrupted Rachel’s examination of her appearance. Her client was here. And five minutes early! Rachel appreciated people who were punctual.

  That being said, she knew she should have been in the front of the house to greet her client when she arrived instead of back here in the bedroom examining her appearance yet again.

  Damn!

  Hurrying out of the bedroom and hoping her doctor referral streak wasn’t about to come to an end, she hustled down the hall, turned the corner…

  And came to a dead stop.

  For the briefest of moments—which nonetheless felt like several minutes—Rachel wondered if she had her appointments mixed up. If today’s client wasn’t, in fact, a doctor. Because this wasn’t a doctor who was standing in the empty front room of the Havershams house.

  It was a movie star.

  But that couldn’t be. Rachel knew she didn’t have any movie star clients.

  Which meant that this…vision of a woman was Dr. Ainsley Janowicz, her client.

  And when did I start using words like “vision” to describe a woman?

  But she couldn’t help it. Dr. Janowicz was stunning!

  No, Dr. Janowicz was gorgeously stunning!

  And suddenly, Rachel’s head was filled with very alarming thoughts. It was silly, really. It was her head, her brain…certainly she could expect to have a measure of control of what went on in there! But apparently, that was not the case. Appare
ntly, she was not allowed to prevent the images suddenly playing in her mind of…things to do with Dr. Janowicz.

  Despite what was going on in her head, Rachel was nonetheless able to clock the appraising down-and-up glance her client gave her. It was so quick—just a flick of those sapphire-blue eyes. Down those eyes flicked from Rachel’s face to her feet before flicking right back up again. Quick as a flash but Rachel was sure that Dr. Janowicz noticed everything in between.

  A flutter began in her chest.

  Was she just checked out by this unbelievably attractive woman?

  She told herself to stop. Dr. Janowicz, being a professional woman who was here on pretty serious business about a major life purchase, was probably just making sure the real estate agent she was entrusting with said major life purchase looked polished, competent and fit for the job.

  Managing to ignore the fluttering in her chest and the alarming images in her mind, Rachel stepped forward, her hand outstretched.

  “Dr. Janowicz?” she said. “Hi, I’m Rachel Hamill.”

  After shaking hands, Dr. Janowicz said, “Good job pronouncing my name! Most new people screw it up.” And she gave Rachel the most devastating smile which made those damn flutters even stronger.

  Laughing—and feeling herself blushing—Rachel said, “Well, I cheated. I didn’t want to screw it up and so last night I watched one of those ‘how to pronounce’ YouTube videos on it.”

  “And they actually had Janowicz?”

  “They did!” Rachel said. “I guess I’m not the only one with clients named that. Anyway, did you have any trouble finding the house, Doctor?”

  “Oh my god, call me Ainsley, please!”

  Ainsley…

  Rachel had known her client’s first name was Ainsley, of course. But hearing it spoken by the woman herself, with that incredible soft voice of hers, transformed it somehow.

  Was Rachel mistaken or was Ainsley the sexiest name on the planet?

  “Nobody calls me Dr. Janowicz,” Ainsley went on, “except the people at the hospital and my father.”

  “Your father calls you Dr. Janowicz?” Rachel asked with a chuckle.

  “He does!” Ainsley answered, laughing. “I guess I can forgive him. When you have a daughter who grows up to be a surgeon, it makes sense to be a little proud. The ironic part is that it’s my mother who’s the other doctor in the family and he just calls her Sheila!”

  “And what does your doctor mother call you?”

  “Mostly ‘my single daughter.’” Ainsley said. “When she’s being formal, however, she upgrades me to ‘my unattached daughter,’ which I think she believes not only sounds fancier but also less sad.”

  Rachel burst out laughing. Ainsley was hilarious! And so approachable and personable, too! She knew that on paper, she should hate Ainsley. Movie-star gorgeous, super tall, boobs, the kind of blonde hair that looked like it glowed and a surgeon! Ainsley was, in short, the type of woman mere mortal women like her were supposed to loathe!

  But Rachel couldn’t loathe Ainsley. She already liked her too much.

  Nor, apparently, could she stop never-before-seen footage from playing in her mind. The kind of footage normally reserved for men.

  She blinked rapidly and decided it was time to get the tour on. At least doing her job should stop her mind from wandering.

  “So,” she began, “shall I show you the property?”

  “Please,” Ainsley said with another devastating smile.

  With a gesture, Rachel indicated the entirety of the front room just a second before she started spewing the statistics of the home’s square footage and the year it was built. But as she talked, she was very much aware that her nipples were achingly hard.

  Chapter 4

  Christ almighty! Rachel was…distracting!

  Ainsley’s heart was still thudding like it did when she had first laid eyes on the realtor. At that moment, when Rachel had turned the corner, coming from somewhere deeper in the house, Ainsley had almost muttered aloud, “Oh my god!”

  Rachel was simply lovely! Beautiful girl-next-door features that were lightly freckled; large brown eyes and—wow!—that red hair!

  The pantsuit Rachel had on was amazing also. Ainsley particularly enjoyed how the blazer was cinched in at the waist, highlighting Rachel’s figure. She also liked how the pants were capri length. This allowed an enticing amount of Rachel’s perfectly shaped calves to be visible. Just enough to make Ainsley desperate to see the rest of Rachel’s legs.

  Fortunately, she had maintained control of her mouth and had not blurted out “Oh my god!” But it had been difficult. Especially when Ainsley noticed how Rachel seemed to be reacting to her.

  Ainsley hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up at that moment but it had certainly seemed to her that Rachel was…

  Smitten.

  But Ainsley had chased that thought out of her head and instead settled on figuring that Rachel had just been surprised at suddenly turning the corner and seeing an Amazon standing in the house. It was a common reaction that Ainsley had gotten used to over the years. In flip-flops or other flats, she was a head turner. In high heels, however, she dominated a room, any room, and she had convinced herself that Rachel had just been reacting to that.

  Too bad, though.

  And so after their introductions, she had let Rachel begin the tour of this house she was considering buying while she concentrated on focusing her mind to the task at hand, which was determining if this was going to be her new home.

  The house was perfect.

  According to Rachel, it was just over 2500 square feet in size—which Ainsley liked. It wasn’t so big that she’d feel swallowed up in it, nor was it so small that she’d feel boxed in. Being a tall woman, she always enjoyed having space.

  Three bedrooms, which for Ainsley meant she could convert one of the spares into a home gym and keep the other spare as a guest room. She knew she’d have fun decorating that. If she hadn’t gone into medicine, she would have been an interior designer.

  Both the front room and the living room were spacious. If she bought the house, she would consider making the front room a kind of lounging room to do whatever in—all super comfy chairs and mod lamps with a shag area rug and plenty of houseplants. She’d even have a cushion on the awesome window seat.

  The kitchen was amazing! Not only was it huge but those two skylights were flooding it with such beautiful natural light. Upon setting foot in this room, Ainsley immediately wanted to find an apron and start cooking. She even considered suggesting it—that she and Rachel go buy groceries and come back to cook a meal together. Maybe Greek. She wondered if Rachel liked Greek food and she let her mind daydream a bit, picturing herself and Rachel in this kitchen, ingredients like feta cheese, lamb, maybe even rabbit, a variety of herbs and some flatbread laid out on the island countertop. They’d have some music playing softly and a bottle of white wine open as they—

  “Too bad we can’t cook a meal right now in here,” Rachel suddenly said, interrupting Ainsley’s daydream. “I absolutely adore this kitchen!”

  No fucking way!

  “I swear to god, I was just thinking the same thing!” Ainsley admitted.

  “No!”

  “Honestly! Greek food!”

  “Oh my god, I love Greek!” Rachel enthused, making Ainsley’s breath catch.

  “Can you imagine,” Ainsley said, running her hands over the island’s large countertop. “Everything laid out here right by the sink.”

  “Yes,” Rachel said, coming to stand right beside her, Ainsley getting another nice whiff of her perfume. “This is the perfect spot for prepping ingredients!”

  “Right. We can have the raw meats on this side of the sink…”

  “Which I’ll let you handle because you’re the surgeon,” Rachel cut in.

  “Nope, nope, nope,” Ainsley said, nudging the realtor playfully. “When I come home, the scalpel gets put away and so I will let you be the meat surgeon on this side while�
��” Ainsley moved over to the other side of the sink. “…I am chopping veggies and herbs on this side over here.”

  “But which side gets to keep the bottle of wine?” Rachel asked, standing with her weight balanced on one leg and her arms crossed, looking at Ainsley with a cocked eyebrow, as if this was a dealbreaker decision.

  Ainsley was officially turned on now.

  “That’s a good point,” she said, tapping her chin with one finger. “We can’t be fighting over custody of the wine bottle.”

  “Fighting ruins the fun of cooking,” Rachel agreed, nodding.

  “So…how about this…?”

  Keeping her eyes locked on the real estate agent, Ainsley stepped back over to Rachel’s side of the sink. She saw Rachel’s mouth fall open just a tiny bit when she stopped right in front of her.

  “I think there is plenty of counter space on this side,” Ainsley said. “Which means we can both work side by side and keep the wine bottle right near us both.”

  Rachel nodded and the doctor in Ainsley could see she was flushed.

  “No surprise you’re a surgeon,” Rachel said softly. “You certainly have a lot of brains.”

  Ainsley shrugged.

  “Surgery involves a lot of problem-solving,” she told Rachel.

  She saw Rachel swallow.

  “Um…anyway,” Rachel began, “if you buy the house…um…invite me over to cook one night. In the meantime, I should probably show you the rest of the place.”

  “Probably,” Ainsley said and then wanted to laugh when Rachel said the next stop was the bedroom.

  Just what I was thinking…

  ***

  “I have a confession,” Rachel said when they entered the master bedroom. “When you arrived earlier, I was in here checking my appearance for the umpteenth time in front of these.”

  She gestured toward the mirrored closet doors. Ainsley decided that if she bought this place, those would have to go. As much as she appreciated the fact that the mirrors were large and would let her see her entire body as she did an appearance check before she left the house, she thought mirrored closet doors were tacky and were the kind of thing someone named Estelle would have in her bedroom in a retirement community in Miami.