By Heart

by chilly_flame

Summary:

Miranda goes skiing, but somehow Andy is the one who takes a fall.

Notes:

This story spun out of something Telanu mentioned to me once in passing, and though it’s morphed dramatically away from my original concept, I thank her for the initial idea! And of course I owe tons to my beta Xander this time--I stalled on this one for a while because it’s pretty low on plot. She kept me motivated, so yay Xan!

Chapter 1

Staring out over the vista of white, Miranda took a deep breath. The mountain air was freezing, but it only served to invigorate her.

 

She needed this break, and a few days were better than nothing. With Andrea waiting at the bottom of the slope, fielding calls and coordinating with the office about the upcoming shoots, Miranda felt calm and relaxed. Everything was well in hand. In fact, Andrea was the only reason she felt able to take this last minute vacation. God knew she rarely left the city this time of year, but with the girls away at her mother's for a long weekend, everything simply came together. Andrea cleared her schedule, and a few days later they were out of the city.

 

Four days of skiing were exactly what she needed. Andrea had planned everything perfectly, right down to the cabin she'd rented. Miranda had the spacious ground floor all to herself, and she imagined the upstairs loft was roomy enough for Andrea, who seemed thrilled with it. The kitchen was well-stocked, the master bedroom had its own fireplace, and the attached bathroom had an enormous tub. The main living area was even, dare she say it, homey. Miranda had stayed in rentals near the lodge before, but never had she enjoyed such ideal accommodations.

 

She only slightly associated Andrea's nearness with her current state of repose. It seemed beside the point; Andrea was always by her side these days, both at home and the office. Her working hours had expanded over the last six months, beyond that of all her past assistants. She never complained, asking only for the occasional sample Miranda discarded, or a night off now and then when her parents came to town.

 

Those nights off were rare, thankfully, since Miranda experienced an odd sense of loneliness without Andrea. She preferred her silent company, though she would never admit it to anyone. Somehow she sensed that Andrea knew, and felt the same. It was a comfort, Miranda had decided, to need and be needed in equal measure, however unusual it might be for her.

 

Miranda lowered her ski goggles, and kicked off into the powder.

 

The moguls came at her fast, and she steered through them briskly, passing two slowpokes who should not have been on the double diamond trail. The trees at the border were a blur, and Miranda took a jump at full speed. Her heart lifted, and she let out a whoosh of air and a laugh when she landed successfully. The second round of moguls loomed, and she zoomed over them with grace, bypassing two other jumps in favor of the larger one some distance down the path.

 

She saw it, narrowed her focus, and within seconds she was airborne, breath held. For a moment, all her cares were forgotten, and she was a girl again. The feeling remained when she landed, and followed her all the way down the slope.

 

Near the bottom, she turned toward the lodge, avoiding other skiers with agility. Her heart was light, and she suppressed a smile when she spotted Andrea on the snowy deck. The ridiculous toque she wore made her stand out in the crowd of wealthy sophisticates, but there was something rather charming about it.

 

She did not consider that the charm came not from the hat, but from the one who wore it.

 

Andrea looked up at that moment. Miranda pulled her scarf down, not minding that her lips quirked into a grin of their own volition when Andrea immediately rushed down the stairs of the deck. She trotted carefully through the snow, the fuzzy boots attracting Miranda’s attention. “Are they keeping you warm?” she asked.

 

Andrea grinned. “They’re like a little fireplace for my feet. Thank you again. I really love them.”

 

“Good,” Miranda said. “Now, Nigel—“

 

“--Just got back from the vineyard, and he said everything went ‘swimmingly.’ That was his exact word. I just downloaded 200 jpegs from the server for whenever you want to look them over. Maybe after dinner?” The look on Andrea’s face was hopeful. She'd been trying very hard to convince Miranda to limit her work during her vacation. So far, she’d been successful. Who was Miranda to break the trend?

 

“Fine, fine,” she said with a wave of her hand. She covered her cold nose with a glove, breathing into it for warmth. “What did you think?”

 

“He’s right. They’re terrific. Lucy and Marianne were perfect choices, and they had fantastic weather. They shot all the way through sunset. You’re going to love it.”

 

“Good. After the thunderstorm in the park last week, I could use some good news.”

 

“Don’t worry, Miranda. This spread’s going to rock.”

 

Miranda snorted. “We’ll see,” she said, but she trusted Andrea. Implicitly. About nearly everything. In fact, she couldn’t imagine that Andrea could keep a single secret from her, even if she tried. That open, lovely face spoke volumes with every expression, and Miranda had come to enjoy interpreting her thoughts before she said them aloud. She’d gotten quite good at it.

 

 

 

It was a surprise how rewarding it could be.

 

“You hungry? Or thirsty?” Andrea thrust a bottle of water in her direction.

 

Miranda took it, and drank. “Thank you,” she replied after draining half of it. “A few more runs and I’ll come in. The powder is too good to pass up. Are you certain you won’t at least try?”

 

Andrea laughed. “No way. My memory of a broken wrist is enough to keep me off the mountain for a while longer. But you look great out there.” Miranda peered at her curiously. “Oh please, you know you do. I saw you take that last hill at a sprint. How fast do you think you were going?”

 

“No idea,” Miranda said, glowing from the appraisal. “I feel a little rusty.”

 

“Don’t even. Anyway, you have fun. Once was enough for me, even if it was ten years ago.”

 

Miranda scoffed. “You had a poor teacher. I could instruct you on the basics in less than an hour.”

 

“It’s okay, I’ve never had great luck with snow. I’m going to go back up and bask in the warmth of the heat lamps and read my book. And of course make some phone calls now and then.” There was a tease in her tone, one Miranda liked the sound of. It held a familiarity that warmed her.

 

“Hmm,” Miranda said. “All right. Go on, then.”

 

“’Kay. Bye. And be careful!” Andrea turned to leave with a wave.

 

But less than three seconds later, Andrea lay sprawled in the snow a few yards away, under the body of a young man and his snowboard.

 

Miranda blinked, staring. “Andrea,” she whispered. A miserable moan came out from under the pile. “Andrea,” Miranda said again, her brain finally catching up.

 

She was going to kill that boy with her bare hands. He rolled off of Andrea into the snow, looked down at her prone form, and tried to get up with the board still attached to his feet. Was he going to try to run away? Bastard. Instantly Miranda unlocked her boots from her skis and rushed to Andrea’s side. With her ski pole, she pushed the boy back down into the snow and said, “You’re not going anywhere.”

 

Falling to her knees, Miranda leaned down. “How badly are you hurt?” The wind had been knocked out of Andrea, that much was certain. “Can you hear me?”

 

Andrea coughed, and tried to inhale, unsuccessfully. “Oh,” she wheezed. “Um, ow.” Brown eyes turned in Miranda’s direction, and from their unfocused look, Miranda thought she might have a concussion. “I think I’m okay. Let me ju—“ she choked, and gasped, and turned green. She started to pant. “Motherfucker!” she hissed in surprise. 

Miranda’s eyes widened. She’d never heard that epithet leave Andrea’s mouth before. She looked down at Andrea’s leg, her stomach churning in sympathy. “Medic!” Miranda shouted. “I need a medic!” She poked the boy with her ski pole a second time and growled, “Don’t move.”

 

The boy quailed, and Miranda stood and ran toward the lodge, awkward in her heavy boots. Fortunately, someone had heeded her call; a young man with a medical trunk was already halfway down the stairs. “Over here,” she said, frantic.

 

“Oh boy,” the man said when he looked down at Andrea, and pulled a walkie from his belt. “I need a snowmobile, stat. Got a break in front of the lodge.”

 

The walkie made a noise. “Copy that,” said a disembodied voice.

 

By the time Miranda knelt once again in the snow, Andrea was shivering. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. “Oh,” she said pitifully. Miranda wanted to stroke her hair, comfort her.

 

When the medic began speaking in soft tones, telling Andrea everything was going to be all right, Miranda believed him. That is, until Andrea turned her head, threw up, and passed out.

 

---

 

Two hours later Andrea was ready to leave the tiny medical clinic, and Miranda was exhausted.

 

It had been frightening, not to mention somewhat disgusting, to realize the indignities one experienced when breaking a limb. They had destroyed Andrea’s new boots, cutting one off her to keep from injuring her further. Her pants were sheared away as well, replaced by some sort of flannels that kept her warm but were far from fashionable. Andrea had thrown up a second time once they’d arrived in the clinic, but lucky for them both she’d done so on the floor rather than in Miranda’s lap.

 

There had been no blood, since the fracture was closed, but it was terrible during the setting of the bone. She’d trembled at Andrea’s bedside, gripping her hand tightly. Despite the pain killers they’d given her, along with a local anesthetic, she’d still whimpered wretchedly.

 

The sound of it tore Miranda’s heart to shreds.

 

Soon after, they’d wrapped Andrea’s leg in a cast (with a remarkably garish purple covering) and left her to rest. The doctor cornered Miranda in the hallway, delivering rapid-fire instructions.

 

“The leg needs to be elevated,” Dr. Halprin said. “As much as possible.”

 

Miranda nodded.

 

“Don’t get the cast wet. Wrap it in plastic when she needs to bathe, and if it gets damp, use a hairdryer to dry it.”

 

Check.

 

“I’m giving you crutches, but for the first few days, let her rest it as much as possible, okay? She’ll be able to get a walking cast in a while. It’s not as bad as it could have been--the fibula is intact, and she doesn’t need pins. That’s a huge relief, because otherwise we’d have had to send her down the mountain to the hospital, and between the weekend traffic and the storm that’s coming—“

 

“Storm?” Miranda said.

 

“Yeah. A big one. I hope you weren’t planning on going anywhere. We’re known for great powder, but if we get what the weatherman predicts, you’re probably going to be indoors for a while.”

 

Miranda had not anticipated that. They were scheduled to head back to New York the following day, a Monday. Of course Andrea’s injury would probably have prevented that, though they could have done it in a pinch. But how much longer would it be now?

 

“Are you certain?”

 

“Never, but plan for it anyway. I’m going to give you a codeine prescription to have on hand, and the pharmacist will give you the details. That’s about it. Rest, elevation, drugs. Any questions?”

 

Miranda had never regretted Andrea’s absence at her side more than she did at that moment. She surely would have known all the right things to say, the most important details to inquire about. “Ah, I’m… not certain. I’ve never dealt with anything like this.”

 

The doctor looked at her with understanding. “It won’t be too bad. She’s a strong girl. Here’s my card. If she develops a fever in the next day or two, call me. I don’t foresee any complications, but take it just in case.”

 

“Complications?” Miranda asked weakly.

 

“Infection, that kind of thing. Listen, just keep her comfortable and you’ll both be fine. Scout’s honor,” he said with a grin, holding up two fingers.

 

Miranda thought she might like to crush those two fingers in her hand. This man didn’t seem to care that one of the most important people in Miranda’s life was injured, and in pain, and could develop complications. Or worse.

 

When she returned to the tiny room, Andrea looked up at Miranda with something like adoration in her eyes. “Hi, M’randa. How’re you?”

 

Miranda sat on the small stool next to the bed. “Just fine. Are you in any pain?”

 

A lazy smile stretched across Andrea’s face. “No way. I feel great. Super, in fact. Never better.”

 

So the drugs had kicked in. A shame it had taken so long. “Good. I’m taking you back to the cabin now. And we’re… staying. They’re expecting a snow storm.”

 

Andrea’s bright eyes grew wide. “Really? That sounds great! I love the snow. I love the cabin, too. This has been so much fun. Being with you up here, I mean. You’re so nice when we’re away from work.” She chuckled to herself, and Miranda wondered exactly how much the drugs were affecting her. “Not that you’re not nice at work and all, but this is way better. And you look really pretty in the snow. Like you belong here instead of the city.”

 

Miranda’s eyebrows lifted. She felt a blush creeping up her neck. “Well, thank you. We should—“

 

“It’s your hair. It’s so white, and with your black suit, and your goggles, you’re straight out of a de Lempicka painting. Didn’t anybody ever tell you how pretty you look in the snow?”

 

Frozen by Andrea’s blatant display of affection, Miranda didn’t know what to say. “No.”

 

Andrea shook her head. “People are stupid then. They’re totally stupid. They don’t know you at all. But I know you. Sometimes I feel like I know you better than I know myself.” 

 

Something dangerous was brewing in Miranda’s belly; it made her feel uncomfortably warm, and entirely exposed. “Yes, yes, Andrea, hush. Let me have a word with the doctor and we’ll go home.”

 

Quickly Miranda made her escape. She stood in the narrow hallway and leaned against the wall.

 

Something told her the next few days were going to be very, very long.

 

Chapter 2

Notes:

This story spun out of something Telanu mentioned to me once in passing, and though it’s morphed dramatically away from my original concept, I thank her for the initial idea! And of course I owe tons to my beta Xander this time--I stalled on this one for a while because it’s pretty low on plot. She kept me motivated, so yay Xan!

The sound of the lodge ambulance was distant now, and Andrea was settled on the plush sofa in the main room. Upstairs, Miranda stared awestruck at the room where Andrea had spent the last three days. It appeared that she hadn’t unpacked anything at all; her clothes were perfectly folded in the suitcase, toiletries already packed in her makeup bag. Even the notebooks and pages she’d brought from Runway were painstakingly organized, with the things that interested Miranda the most on top.

Beyond that, the bed was made, and the bathroom was probably cleaner now than when they’d arrived. She shook her head. No wonder she was ready for anything at a moment’s notice.

“Miranda?” Andrea called from downstairs.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

Well, at least she wasn’t slurring her words anymore. “Bringing your things downstairs.”

“Why?”

Miranda frowned. “Isn’t it obvious?” she muttered to herself. The steps were steep up to this little alcove, and Andrea would not be climbing stairs anytime soon.

Five minutes later Miranda had transferred everything down to the room next to her own. The space was smaller than the second floor, but the bed was comfortable, and the bathroom only a few steps away. At the moment, she was trying not to worry about how they were going to deal with that.

Back in the main room, she seated herself in the matching chair across from the sofa. “So,” she said.

Andrea looked over at her with hazy eyes. “I’m staying in that room now?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be closer to your room.”

“Yes.”

“My leg hurts. And my back.”

Miranda knew that. There were little wrinkles around Andrea’s eyes, and the set of her mouth was missing its usual curve. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Andrea tilted her head. “That’s my line,” she said with a grim smile. “I’m so sorry, Miranda.”

“Sorry?”

“For… all this,” she said, waving her hand in the direction of her leg.

“You realize of course that none of it was your fault.” Miranda pictured the terrified expression of the 17-year-old boy at the medical clinic, and the angry faces of his parents when they heard the story of his recklessness. Especially when the mother recognized Miranda. She felt a small frisson of satisfaction at that. She’d be shocked if they let the boy out of the house for the next six months.

“I guess.”

Miranda wondered where Andrea’s slightly spooked look was coming from. Probably a side effect of the drugs. She might still be in shock. Or maybe she was just hungry. “What would you like for dinner?”

The spooked look turned panicked now, and Andrea struggled to sit up. “I could probably pull—“

Miranda leaned forward. “What are you doing?”

Andrea blinked. “Getting dinner?”

“I’m not entirely helpless, you know,” Miranda said, a little hurt. Did Andrea really believe she would force her to cook after breaking a leg? “I have prepared meals in my time.”

The panic receded somewhat. “Um, okay?”

“Let me see what we have,” Miranda said. The main room opened out into a full kitchen with stainless steel appliances and a glorious gas range. When she opened the refrigerator, her eyes widened. “How long did you expect us to be here?” she asked.

“Just the weekend.”

The top shelf was packed with milk, juice and tea, as well as at least a dozen bottles of San Pellegrino. The crisper overflowed with salad and vegetables, and there were a few packages of salmon and chicken ready to be cooked. Shoved in the back on the second shelf were containers of sliced turkey as well as wrapped triangles of parmesan and pecorino romano, and was that gorgonzola? “We have enough food for two weeks.”

“I wanted to be prepared, in case you had people over, or asked for something special.”

“Good. With the snow coming, we won’t starve.” She rummaged around, considering options. “How about salmon?”

“Okay,” Andrea replied, too quickly.

Miranda removed her head from the fridge. “Something else?”

“That’s fine. I know you love salmon.”

“Andrea, you do all manner of tasks for me, every day. You’re injured. Is it so difficult to tell me what you want for once?”

Andrea winced. “Sorry. I just… my stomach’s kind of upset from the anesthetic. Can I just have soup? I stashed some cans of Campbell’s in the pantry. You can have something else, I’m just… afraid I’ll get sick again.”

Miranda pursed her lips. She should have thought of that herself. Of course Andrea didn’t feel well. And it was humiliating enough to vomit in public, much less twice. “Soup. Yes.”

A few minutes later, she’d put together a tray of soup, crackers, and San Pellegrino, hoping it wouldn’t upset Andrea’s stomach any further. For herself, she added a salad. It had been decades since Miranda had tasted Campbell’s soup, but to her surprise, the flavor had not changed at all. She set the tray on the low table in front of the sofa, and Andrea struggled to arrange herself comfortably over it while keeping her leg elevated.

Miranda watched Andrea lift the spoon to her mouth, pleased when she hummed a little in satisfaction. “That’s good. Reminds me of being home from school on a snow day.” She looked up at Miranda. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I know it’s not your usual fare--”

Miranda cut her off. “I’m feeling adventurous.” She wouldn’t likely seek out chicken and rice soup as a regular option for lunch, but there was something pleasant about the simplicity of it. And of watching Andrea sigh and relax as she nibbled her crackers.

“There’s more,” Miranda said when Andrea’s bowl was empty.

Dark eyebrows rose. “I… yes, please.”

Miranda took the bowl with a grin.

“I guess I was hungrier than I thought. My stomach’s better.”

“How about your leg?”

“It’s… not terrible. Not as bad as before.”

“You should take something now before the pain comes back. I’ll get the prescription.”

“Are you sure? I think I’ll be okay—“

“I’m sure,” Miranda said, already out of her chair, looking through her bag. It was only acetaminophen and codeine--Tylenol with a kick. “There’s no harm in it. I won’t have you suffering needlessly.” She shook out a pill and handed it over, and Andrea swallowed it. “Drink the whole glass,” Miranda said firmly, recalling the pharmacist’s instructions. Andrea did, eyes fastened on Miranda the whole time. “I’ll take that,” she said, carrying the empty glass and plates into the kitchen. She left the dirty dishes in the sink and brought Andrea fresh water. “Here. You need to stay hydrated.” Carefully she set the second helping of soup down on the tray.

Andrea grinned sheepishly. “Yes, doctor.” She sipped from her glass. “This is weird.”

“Hmm?” Miranda said, leaning back in her chair.

“You, taking care of me.”

Miranda thought about it. She hadn’t taken care of anyone except her children in ages, and with the girls she always had help. Of course she took care of the magazine, but she had help with that too. Lots of it, from dozens of people. But Andrea was the one who made everything possible.

Miranda decided then and there it would be nice to pay her back. She was perfectly capable of "assisting" another person. It might even be… fun. A unique experience that would do her good. And she cared, she thought. Yes, she cared for Andrea, with her shining eyes and flawless skin, and a mouth so full Miranda had occasionally questioned how on earth she’d been blessed with it.

As Andrea finished the rest of her soup, Miranda glanced out the window into the darkness and wondered how quickly the snow was falling.

---

Miranda was almost asleep when she heard the cry.

After a couple of hours watching Andrea watch television through drugged eyes, Miranda ordered her to bed. She'd hauled her up and tucked a crutch under Andrea's other arm, and carefully maneuvered her into the bathroom. Fortunately Andrea wasn't completely immobile, and Miranda was able to let her complete her evening ablutions on her own. But Miranda helped her from the bathroom back to the bed, and carefully packed pillows under the heavy cast. As she looked down, Miranda found herself wishing she could stroke the hair from Andrea's forehead and soothe her pain. "I'm right next door," Miranda said, feeling like an idiot for repeating something so obvious. "If you need anything at all."

"I'll be fine, Miranda, you've already done enough. Thank you, for everything."

"Sleep well then. And take a pill if you need it."

Andrea nodded and tried to smile. "Good night."

Miranda wasn't tired yet, and though the unopened bottle of pinot beckoned, she resisted the impulse. Instead she flipped through the gallery of photos Andrea had downloaded from the FTP earlier in the day. She was correct, as was Nigel. Finally, something had gone right. She emailed Nigel her comments and replied to half a dozen outstanding messages before closing the computer and settling into bed.

Naturally, sleep didn't come easily. She stared at the ceiling, and relived Andrea's accident over and over. The whoosh of sound the boy made when he whipped past her, the strange crack his board made against Andrea's body. But more than anything, she heard Andrea's voice, the unbearable whimpers that made the hair on the back of Miranda's neck stand on end.

Miranda tossed and turned for an hour before giving up and returning to the main room. Television wasn't usually a comfort to her, but she needed a distraction, and this was one of the few available. She flipped channels before settling on the most boring thing she could find that wasn't an infomercial: European soccer. Her children would have cursed her name for calling it boring, but they weren't here, and with luck watching the ball move back and forth along the green field would lull her into oblivion.

And it worked. Until that cry came from Andrea's bedroom, and Miranda bolted upright. She raced into the room and turned on the light. Andrea’s face was wet with tears, and she mumbled something under her breath. "Andrea," Miranda said, "Wake up. It's all right."

"It's not all right," Andrea said, voice thick with sleep. "I don't have enough."

Miranda frowned. "Enough what?"

"Jellybeans. She wanted all the watermelon jellybeans I could find. This isn't enough. She's going to be so mad!"

Miranda felt an unpleasant blush creep across her face. "Who?"

"Miranda!" Andrea wailed. "She needs those jellybeans! And if I don't get them she'll fire me, just like she did Emily!"

That's odd, Miranda thought. Emily had left Miranda’s office of her own volition three months after Paris, with a glowing recommendation in her pocket and interviews at Sephora, Lancome and Chanel. Ultimately she'd chosen Chanel, and from what Miranda had heard, she was working steadily toward a position as stylist in the beauty division. "Emily wasn't fired, Andrea."

"Yes she was, when she broke her leg! She didn't get to go to Paris, and Miranda started ignoring her. I couldn't bear that!" Andrea hissed, and reached down toward her cast. "Oh, god, it hurts, it hurts."

That was enough. She felt only slightly guilty for not doing a better job of waking Andrea, but the information she'd gleaned was worth it. "Andrea!" Miranda barked, trusting that the tone would force her into consciousness.

"What?" Andrea said, eyes snapping open.

"You're awake," Miranda said.

"Huh?" Andrea huffed, breathless and flushed.

She's beautiful, even like this. How is that possible? "You were having a nightmare. And you're in pain. I want you to take your pill."

"Oh," Andrea said, falling back down on her pillow. "Sorry."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Stop apologizing. Now sit up and take this. I'll get you some crackers."

"No, it's okay," Andrea said, struggling up. "I don't need any--"

But Miranda didn't hear the rest. She was in the kitchen by then, wrestling with the box of saltines.

"Here," she said when she returned, handing the plate to Andrea. "Eat. I won't take no for an answer."

"Okay, sor--" Miranda raised her eyebrow, and Andrea paled. "I mean, okay. Okay. Thanks."

"Now," Miranda said, seating herself on the side of the bed. "What's this about being afraid you'll lose your job because your leg is broken?"

Andrea froze, mid-chew. "Um," she said, mouth closed.

"I have no intention of letting you go," Miranda said. When Andrea's eyes widened, Miranda realized what she'd said, but she didn't regret it. "I want to be very clear. When we get back to New York, you'll take some time off and come back when you can get around on crutches. Of course a broken leg won't prevent you typing and making phone calls, so I'll expect you to work remotely. That's why God made computers and cellphones." Miranda's eyes softened at Andrea's relieved expression. "Your value at Runway isn't entirely centered around making a Starbucks run inside ten minutes, Andrea. Your mind is your greatest asset, and I don't believe that was damaged this afternoon. Although I'm questioning your sanity right now for thinking I might fire you for being run down by a careless teenager."

Andrea gave Miranda a tremulous smile. She shrugged. "Couldn't help it. I like working for you," she said quietly. "I was nervous."

Miranda waved her hand. "You can stop all that now, and concentrate on getting well. And staying cheerful. I know I'm difficult enough to be around but you don't have to be afraid of me, for heaven's sake."

With a thunderous frown, Andrea replied, "I'm not afraid of you. I said I was just nervous!" she spat.

There, that's better. Miranda grinned. "Glad to hear it. Now, finish your crackers and go back to sleep."

Andrea shoved a cracker in her mouth and chewed noisily. When Miranda grimaced, Andrea smiled, crumbs dotting her lips.

Chapter 3

Notes:

This story spun out of something Telanu mentioned to me once in passing, and though it’s morphed dramatically away from my original concept, I thank her for the initial idea! And of course I owe tons to my beta Xander this time--I stalled on this one for a while because it’s pretty low on plot. She kept me motivated, so yay Xan!

In the morning, Miranda woke to the smell of bacon. She stared at the familiar ceiling. "So help me, there had better be a burglar in this house."

 

There wasn't. Miranda donned her grey robe and subsequently found Andrea in the kitchen, cooking. "You're not serious."

 

"Yes. We are having bacon," Andrea said. "Or at least I am."

 

Miranda supposed she had only herself to blame. She'd asked Andrea to be cheerful, and she certainly looked that way. "I believe I said I'd do the cooking while you convalesced."

 

"I was bored. I slept forever and you were tired, so I just gave it a try. It's not so bad if I can stand in once place, really."

 

"You are ridiculous. Move aside, I'll finish."

 

"Okay, but don't burn the bacon. I haven't had it in two years and I'm dying for it."

 

"Whatever possessed you to buy it in the first place?"

 

"Wishful thinking. And I'm glad I did, because we might be here for a while."

 

Miranda stirred the eggs gently. "Oh?"

 

"We got a lot of snow. Maybe two feet."

 

"Hmm. At least we still have power." She glanced over her shoulder at Andrea, who hovered nearby. "Go make yourself useful and check my email."

 

"Um," Andrea said, glancing longingly at the bacon. "Sure." She stuck her crutches under her arms and clomped her way into the other room. Miranda sighed in relief and turned the eggs again.

 

A few minutes later, Miranda delivered the food to Andrea at the table, along with coffee and juice. A shy grin was all the thanks she needed, but the groans of appreciation were even more of a perk. Miranda was lulled into having a piece of bacon herself; she was sorry to say it was delicious. She even ignored Andrea's sly grin when she sneaked a second strip. "Not a word," she muttered.

 

"I didn't say a thing," Andrea replied, biting daintily into a slice of toast.

 

After dropping the plates (which were piling up) into the sink, she settled in front of her laptop and watched Andrea open her own. "Everything in working order in that brain of yours today? No ill effects from your fall?" Miranda asked over her glasses.

 

"No, I'm all set. I need to confirm the reservations for next week, and Santos is waiting to hear about--"

 

"Yes, yes, fine," Miranda said, and started scanning her Outlook.

 

They worked well into the afternoon, exchanging a little conversation when it was needed. Miranda had often been struck at the shorthand they'd developed without her noticing, but today, with no other distractions, it was very apparent.

 

She ignored the warm sensation that swirled up in her chest when she thought about it. She was also careful not to let Andrea catch her looking, as she was wont to do now and again.

 

Soon after their late afternoon conference call with Nigel and the art department, Andrea sighed. Miranda knew there was something behind that sigh. She took off her glasses. "What is it?"

 

Andrea bit her lip. "I'm sorry about all this. Being stuck here, missing a hundred meetings, having to reschedule everything. We'd be in New York already if it wasn't for my accident."

 

Miranda narrowed her gaze. "Can you alter the weather? If so you're even more talented than I thought. Because last time I looked there were 23 inches of snow piled outside this door, and they'll be digging us out by tomorrow at the earliest."

 

Andrea rolled her eyes. "Well I'd have heard about the storm coming if I hadn't been in the hospital, and maybe we could have figured out--"

 

"My god, Andrea, you can't control the universe." She slid her glasses back in place and stared down at her screen. "You leave that to me." Miranda was gratified by the snort of amusement. "And besides, we're well equipped to survive here in the wilderness. Food, shelter, electricity, a wireless connection--"

 

"Um," Andrea interrupted. "I think we may have lost one of those things."

 

Miranda stared at her before looking down at her screen. She reloaded her Firefox to no avail, as Andrea clicked on the television and found an appropriate mass of noisy snow.

 

Miranda sighed. "The wonders of the modern world. It figures."

 

"Sorry. I brought a network card if you want to hook back up--"

                                                                                                                     

"No need," Miranda said. "I have a call with Gaudi shortly. Otherwise that's enough for today."

 

"Okay." Andrea swung her leg off the couch.

 

"Where are you going?"

 

"To get the network card."

 

"Did you misunderstand the words 'enough for today'?"

 

"But I have at least three more emails I owe Delphine--"

 

"Delphine is competent enough to handle the desk on her own for two hours. She's probably filing her nails as we speak."

 

"She does a good job!" Andrea retorted, a sharp edge to her tone.

 

Miranda lifted an eyebrow. "You would know. You trained her." Miranda glared at her phone and willed it to ring. "She's been... a reasonable addition." With those words, she could see the glow of a thousand watt smile even from the corner of her eye.

 

"You really think so?" At Miranda's pointed look, Andrea laughed. "Right. You said it. I--I'm just glad. I wanted you to like her."

 

Miranda heard the unspoken thought even though Andrea didn't say it. I wanted you to be proud of me. "I wouldn't use a word as strong as 'like,'" Miranda replied drolly. "She's not you, after all."

 

When Miranda looked up, Andrea's expression was pleased, and thougtful. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

 

"Well," was all Miranda had a chance to say before her phone rang. Which was a relief, really, because it was doubtful she could come up with something that wouldn't ruin the moment.

 

---

 

Four hours later, Miranda was a little drunk, and had discovered an as-yet-unknown fact about herself: she loved playing cards.

 

Scratch that. She loved winning at cards.

 

Andrea, on the other hand, seemed to adore playing no matter how the game turned out. She laughed when she won, but she laughed harder when she lost. It kept Miranda from feeling any guilt at all for wiping the floor with her assistant at gin. Or rummy. Or poker, including seven-card stud, Texas hold-em, and five-card draw. Apparently at least a quarter of Andrea's college career was spent playing card games, so there were countless versions they had yet to explore. Andrea insisted her favorite game was Spoons, but apparently you couldn't play that with only two people. Miranda wondered if there were any individuals in her acquaintance she'd be willing to make an ass out of herself in front of to play a game of Spoons with Andrea.

 

Perhaps Nigel, if she got him drunk enough.

 

They had steak for dinner, which Miranda grilled, and Andrea's leg was well enough for her to forgo her pain medication in favor of that Pinot Miranda had coveted the night before. It was worth the wait, heavy and warm on Miranda's tongue from the first sip. Andrea delighted at the taste as well, and they killed the bottle some time after their meal, during the fourth round of poker. When Miranda poured Andrea the last drops, she looked stricken. "You finish it."

 

Miranda shook her head. "I'm fine. More than fine, actually." It had been months since she'd indulged this way, preferring to keep her wits about her. Tonight, however, seemed to call for a little frivolity.

 

Andrea shrugged. "I'm pretty fine too." She sipped from her glass. "This is fun."

 

Miranda licked her lips, and picked up her hand. It was about to become even more fun; she had what Andrea called "trips." Aces. All these years Las Vegas seemed a giant waste of time. If she'd only known, she could probably have blown half her fortune by now at the tables.

 

Three hands and three wins later, Miranda yawned. Her eyes were drooping, and she felt a lovely lethargy settle over her. She would sleep well tonight. "I think I've had enough."

 

"Oh thank god. I was worried I'd created a monster," Andrea quipped. She looked exhausted, not to mention grateful.

 

"You have. I want to save my really big wins for tomorrow."

 

Brown eyes rolled, and Miranda pursed her lips to mask her grin.

 

"Do you need any help with... anything?" Miranda asked.

 

"I'm okay tonight, but tomorrow, I'll have to have a shower, or something. I couldn't manage it now, but thank you." A rosy blush set into pale cheeks.

 

"Tomorrow then." Miranda pushed down the rather prurient thought that went through her mind at helping Andrea in and out of the bath. But after a night like tonight, it was hard to deny she felt far more than what a professional woman ought to feel about her very reliable and talented assistant.

 

If anything happened (not that it would, of course), she would be taking advantage of Andrea. Lovely Andrea, who gave and gave until she could do no more, but who still managed to pull rabbits out of hats daily. Andrea, whose eyes shone like priceless amber in the soft light.

 

You're getting soft in your old age , Miranda thought as she carried the dishes to add to the pile again in the sink. She was really going to have to do something about that in the morning.

 

Sleep claimed her quickly, and she drifted in pretty dreams about Andrea's soft skin, and downy cheeks. She dreamed of kissing her, mostly, and finding the comfort and affection that was so elusive in her life. But soon Andrea's kisses grew chilly, then downright cold. When Andrea's frozen lips touched her ear, Miranda reached up to push her away, and with the movement, woke herself.

 

The room was like ice. Under the blankets she was still warm, but her nose was runny, the way it always got when she skied. Her ears were indeed cold. Apparently their good luck had not lasted. At least the bedroom was well stocked with firewood. Andrea had left matches and candles next to the bed when they first arrived, reminding Miranda that she'd grown up in snowy Cincinnati . Miranda had scoffed then, but she took it all back now, striking a match and warming her hand near the candle flame.

 

First things first. Retrieve Andrea. Second: light a roaring fire. Third and fourth, go back to bed, and try not to accidentally kiss Andrea in her sleep.

 

She left a candle on the nightstand, and carried the other into Andrea's room. Quietly she crept near the bed, only to find Andrea staring up at her, eyes wide and anxious. "Hey," she said, her voice shaking.

 

"Come along," Miranda said, throwing back the covers. "You'll sleep in my room. I'm lighting a fire."

 

"No," Andrea said with a shiver. "I'm okay here. I just need to--"

 

"Don't make me drag you out, I'm too old," Miranda said firmly, retrieving the crutches from the side of the bed. "Get up."

 

With that, Andrea relented, and trembled audibly. "Fuck, it's cold."

 

"How long have you been awake?" Miranda asked. She gathered pillows for Andrea's leg, as well as the second comforter. She had no clue as to what time it was, and the temperature would certainly drop further during the night.

 

"Oh, not long," Andrea said.

 

Miranda didn't believe it. Andrea would not under any circumstances have knocked on her door and asked to share her bed. As much as Miranda wished it wasn't so, the line of professionalism was still very much between them . And it was likely to stay that way, unless Miranda slipped, or Andrea did.

 

That would be nice.

 

When she turned around and saw Andrea waiting in the doorway, Miranda shivered, and not just from the cold. She had to still be drunk, thinking about slipping into... anything with her assistant.

 

And now they would be next to each other, in a small space, huddled together for warmth.

 

Miranda blinked and picked up the candle, shaking the hair away from her face. "All right."

 

Once under the covers, Andrea grunted as she adjusted her position on the mattress, sliding over to the side that Miranda had not occupied. Miranda checked the flue and twisted up newspaper before hauling wood into the arrangement her father had liked best. She lit a piece of newsprint and started the flame, which bloomed into a gorgeous blaze after only a couple of minutes.

 

"Wow," Andrea said. "You're good at that."

 

Miranda stared into the glow, reveling in the heat it threw off. "My father was an expert. He taught me." Miranda recalled waiting for his approval at her achievement with her own fires as a young girl. But she was only able to remember the times he chastised her for making attempts that flared brightly but went out before the logs ever caught. "It's catching."

 

"Maybe I should come over there."

 

"No, I'm through," Miranda said. "You'll have plenty of opportunity to sit by a fire tomorrow if the power's still out. I trust there's enough non-perishable food left in the house so we won't starve without the refrigerator?"

 

"Oh yeah," Andrea replied. "But the fridge should be okay if we keep it closed. Won't it?"

 

"Perhaps. No matter." Miranda stood and carried her candle to the bathroom to wash up before returning to her occupied bed. She blew the candles out and made sure to leave the matches next to them, just in case. "What time do you think it is?"

 

"I checked my phone. It's almost three."

 

"Set the alarm for five, would you?"

 

Andrea looked scandalized, illuminated by the room’s strange, beautiful light. "Why?"

 

"So I can stoke the fire, of course. We don't want you freezing all night long, do we?"

 

Andrea's eyes were owlish as she gazed out from the pile of pillows, a blanket wrapped around her head. "Oh. Right." She leaned over and fiddled with her cellphone for a moment before setting it aside. "Okay."

 

"Are you comfortable?" Miranda asked softly, wishing to reach out and touch, to warm that cold body with her own.

 

"Much better. The fire's helping. And your bed's warmer."

 

"Good. Wake me if you need anything." Miranda closed her eyes, and repeated, "Anything. Is that clear?"

 

"Yes, Miranda," Andrea replied, a smile in her voice. A moment later, something moved against her hair. Something in the shape of a hand. "Miranda?" Andrea asked.

 

"Need something already?" Miranda said lightly, to diffuse the tension that rumbled in her belly.

 

"Thank you," came the quiet words. "I mean it. Thank you."

 

Miranda was hard-pressed not to let her eyes slip closed at the sensations Andrea's careful touch elicited. "You're welcome," she replied, her voice far lower than she'd have liked.

 

Andrea petted her hair a final time before pulling her arm back under the covers and quaking briefly. "Brr."

 

"Sleep well," Miranda managed, watching Andrea stare up at the ceiling.

 

"You too," Andrea whispered.

 

---

Chapter 4

Notes:

This story spun out of something Telanu mentioned to me once in passing, and though it’s morphed dramatically away from my original concept, I thank her for the initial idea! And of course I owe tons to my beta Xander this time--I stalled on this one for a while because it’s pretty low on plot. She kept me motivated, so yay Xan!

What felt like three minutes later, Miranda swam up from a dream in which she held Andrea gently around the waist and nuzzled soft hair. She sighed in satisfaction, until she understood it was not just a dream. Miranda had rolled over in the bed, as she thought she might. At least she could claim an unconscious attraction to another warm body.

 

Miranda considered getting up to stoke the fire, but soon recognized the weight of Andrea's hand covering her own. She twitched. Andrea took a deep breath and turned her head. "Mm," she exhaled. "Miranda."

 

"Yes?"

 

"I don't want pumpkin pie," she mumbled. "Apple, please."

 

Miranda held herself very, very still, but it was incredibly difficult not to laugh. "Not pecan?" she whispered.

 

"Maybe tomorrow. P'can's okay."

 

"All right. Tomorrow."

 

She saw, in the faint light, the curve of Andrea's smile, heard a hum of contentment.

 

She would stoke the fire later.

 

Some time after that, the alarm's windchimes woke both of them. Miranda still held Andrea, who looked slightly guilty at their proximity. It was cold, and Miranda dreaded the thought of leaving her little haven under the covers. "Be right back," she said.

 

"'Kay."

 

Quickly Miranda added more wood to the fireplace, along with a little more newspaper. The flames caught fast, and after a quick trip to the bathroom, she raced back into the bed.

 

"Um," Andrea said.

 

"Don't be stingy. You're warm and I'm freezing," Miranda said firmly, reclaiming her earlier spot.

 

Andrea chuckled. "I don't mind. Yeow," she yelped. "You were only away for five minutes. Your feet are like ice!"

 

"You're lucky your leg's broken, otherwise yours would be like ice."

 

"Mm, I know. I'm really hating being waited on hand and foot by you. Strange how the tables have turned." Miranda felt the hesitant touch along the top of her hand, and her body flushed. Fingers traced a vein, circling her knuckle. "Actually, I don't really like it."

 

Miranda nearly had to shake herself into coherence, enjoying the feeling of soft skin. "What?"

 

"You’re doing everything for me. I hate feeling so... helpless."

 

"You're far from helpless, Andrea. And since your current duty is to serve as my personal heater, I'd say you're doing an excellent job of it."

 

Another giggle was music to Miranda's ears. "Glad I'm still good for something." Andrea yawned, and Miranda heard her jaw crack. "God, I'm tired."

 

"I have no intention of getting up. Go back to sleep."

 

"I will. You comfortable?"

 

More than you know . "Mm-hmm."

 

Andrea's hand settled more firmly along Miranda's wrist. "Okay. Night."

 

---

 

Fingers moved along Miranda's belly, and she opened her eyes. Morning had broken, and refracted sun on snow illuminated the room with pale light. A whimper caught Miranda's attention, as did the nudge of a pair of hips behind hers. "Oh," Andrea said, breathing in Miranda's ear.

 

Miranda's eyes fell closed as that hand slipped under the waistband of her silk pajamas. She wanted to groan; she would groan in a moment. Her heart had leapt to racing in seconds, and despite the chill, sweat broke out on her temples. It was so hot. She bit her lip.

 

Andrea clutched at her, panting, until she let out a squeak and froze. The hand disappeared, as did the heat of the body that had pressed so sensually against her.

 

Andrea had woken. Miranda held her breath. She didn't move, and tried to sound relaxed and asleep. But her mind was awhirl with desire and need. She throbbed between her legs; it seemed she could still feel the imprint of Andrea's determined hand on her flesh. If she only knew who she'd been dreaming of...

 

The bed shook slightly with Andrea's departure. Miranda shut her eyes and listened to the faint clomp of the crutches along the carpet until Andrea disappeared behind the bathroom door.

 

Miranda rolled over and stared at the ceiling. She was wet between her legs--just that small moment of closeness had been enough. Tempted to touch herself, Miranda decided that things were spinning out of control. And she was the one at fault; with the exception of this short interlude, Andrea had done nothing to encourage Miranda's affection. Nothing except, of course, be herself. Her beautiful, beautiful self.

 

These few days had changed nothing for Miranda, except now she understood the futility of lying any longer. She cared. She was attracted.

 

She might as well face up to the fact: she was in love.

 

It was certainly a different kind of love than what she'd previously experienced. Like many people, she usually fell in love with a facade, which life slowly chipped away to reveal the true individual beneath. And like many people, she fell out of love when the facade was gone. With Stephen, it had taken two years to happen.

 

Which was almost exactly how long she'd known Andrea, only with the reverse effect.

 

It was fitting, Miranda thought. It seemed the God she'd long left behind was having a good laugh at her expense. But she'd also been blessed. There were days she looked out of her office at Andrea's desk, and when their eyes met, the silent communication was everything.

 

Of course, she might end up with nothing in the end. Was she ready to take that risk?

 

Maybe. Maybe it was time.

 

---

 

Breakfast was a simple affair of fruit and scrambled egg whites, made on the gas stove. Andrea even unearthed a caffetiere from a cupboard, so they split a full pot of coffee between them. With laptop batteries and wireless network cards, they were able to get a few good hours of work in. By the time Miranda's battery ran low, her fingers were frozen, and the fire was dying again. Everything was left in Nigel's capable hands, and Miranda was remarkably calm about it all. Out here, in the snow, the magazine seemed so far away. The anxiety she'd expected at being gone longer than scheduled had not set in.

 

The twins, on the other hand, were ruling the roost back home and having a marvelous time of it. Diana was pleasant enough when they spoke, but Miranda heard the exhaustion in her voice. At least the girls were at school now, and the poor woman got a proper break. Miranda promised her time off and a bonus, which seemed to lift her spirits. She’d been an excellent caregiver for the girls, and Miranda had Andrea to thank for that. Her former nanny had quit without giving notice last year after being stalked by reporters during the divorce. Andrea took it upon herself to interview new candidates within two days, and presented Miranda with three excellent options before she could even take a breath.

 

She looked over at Andrea, who typed furiously with a little frown between her eyebrows. Her hair was looking a little limp, come to think of it. Miranda had just the remedy. But with that leg, there would be some maneuvering required. "Does this house have a gas water heater?"

 

Andrea's head popped up. "Um, yes?"

 

"Excellent."

 

Miranda stood and left the room, investigating various chairs in the house till she found one that suited her purpose. A plastic seat with a little give would be perfect. Now all she had to do was convince Andrea to get into the shower with her and it would all work out perfectly.

 

Andrea was still typing when Miranda announced, "We're going to wash your hair." She held a garbage bag in her hand. "The tub is too large for you and the cast--you'll slip around too much to take the risk. Just put on your robe and we’ll get started."

 

Brown eyes stared out at Miranda in disbelief. "Pardon?"

 

"Put on your robe," Miranda said very slowly. "We are going to wash your hair."

 

"Um. I don't think I need any help--"

 

"I can't take you back to the hospital if you break your other leg flopping around in the shower on one foot. If I make you that uncomfortable--"

 

"No!" Andrea almost shouted. "I mean, no. But it just seems like a lot of trouble."

 

"Consider it payback. I don't have to worry about the girls with Diane handling them, and that's thanks to you. Besides, the water will warm the both of us up very nicely." Miranda headed directly into the bathroom, pulled off her merino socks and rolled up her trousers. She set the chair in the center of the enormous glass shower and waited. Eventually, Andrea came in wearing the burgundy Loro Piana cashmere robe Miranda had given her before Christmas. It was a re-gift Miranda didn’t need, and it suited Andrea very well.

 

"I know this is too nice, but it's all I brought."

 

"It's perfectly fine. Sit down and I'll wrap the cast." Andrea complied, and Miranda set the crutches outside the shower for easy access, along with a fluffy towel. The room really was freezing, and it was darker than she'd prefer, but with a little steam they'd be warm. Carefully she pulled the plastic bag over the cast, doing her damndest to ignore the pretty expanse of pale leg above. "There. You can shower afterwards if you like." Miranda stood and selected a wide comb from her little pile of toiletries. "Now lean back."

 

Andrea did. Miranda treated herself to combing Andrea's long, lustrous hair, carefully unknotting tangles and genuinely enjoying herself.

 

Andrea did not seem to mind. She sighed softly, and closed her eyes.

 

When it seemed silly to pretend that there were still knots in the smooth waves, Miranda took the handheld shower extension and turned on the water. She waited until it was hot. "Ready?"

 

"Um-hmm."

 

She started in the back, wetting the length before traveling around Andrea's hairline. A small grin curved the generous mouth, and Miranda smiled too. Even if Andrea had no interest beyond a professional relationship with Miranda, everyone liked having their hair washed. This would be good for the both of them.

 

She stopped the water and poured out a large dollop of shampoo. Holding her breath, she ran her hands through damp hair and started to lather. The room was quiet, but the sound of dripping water seemed inordinately loud. Andrea's hair was soft and sleek. She massaged then, at the base of her neck, and Andrea tilted her head just a little further back in reaction. The smile had faded, lips parted in what looked like pure pleasure. Miranda moved her hands up the back of Andrea's skull, thumbs digging in, abandoning the pretense of hair-washing as the object of this exercise. Fingers slid along Andrea's temples, behind her ears, hitting pressure points that made Andrea bite her lip. "Too hard?" Miranda asked, concerned.

 

"Noo," Andrea replied. The word sounded distinctly like a moan.

 

Miranda took a moment to steady her breath. She continued to massage Andrea's entire head with strokes long and short, occasionally pulling gently at her roots the way Miranda enjoyed herself. Only when Miranda's feet got too cold did she turn on the faucet again. Standing at Andrea's side, she carefully traced Andrea's hairline with a cascade of warm water.

 

Andrea opened her mouth and exhaled, the tiniest whimper escaping her throat.

 

It took every ounce of willpower Miranda possessed not to lean down and cover that mouth with her own. Instead, she finished what she started, running the water through Andrea's hair over and over, not caring about the fact that her pants were soaking wet, or that it was the work of only a minute to rinse the lather away. Finally, she shut the water off again, and reached for the conditioner.

 

Andrea almost seemed surprised when Miranda's hands began anew. This time Miranda took a different tactic, focusing on the hair itself rather than the scalp. She didn't miss a strand, combing the conditioner through every section, taking extra care at the ends. The motion was hypnotic; Miranda hardly noticed when her lower back complained. She even waited, as her stylist had instructed, for the formula to work its magic. Two minutes. She could spend that time standing nearby doing nothing, or she could continue to run her fingers through strands that seemed to cry out for her touch.

 

She chose the latter. Andrea did not say a word. Finally, Miranda relented. She rinsed Andrea's hair a second time, but without the added bonus of the whimper. Andrea’s brow began to furrow as Miranda rinsed the conditioner out. "Too hot?" she asked softly, and Andrea flinched at her proximity.

 

"No," she whispered, and Miranda saw the motion of her throat at she swallowed. Her lips formed a straight line.

 

Something was wrong.

 

"Too cold?"

 

A tear slipped from the corner of Andrea's eye.

 

Alarmed, Miranda pressed her free hand to Andrea's damp cheek. "What is it?"

 

Startled by the touch, Andrea's eyes flew open before shutting just as quickly. "It's nothing. I can finish up--"

 

Miranda shut the water off and hung up the showerhead. "Talk to me." Eyes closed, Andrea didn’t speak. "This is a small house. There's nowhere to hide. Tell me what's wrong." Another tear fell down a pale cheek. It was all Miranda could take. "Please."

 

"It's really nothing." Andrea stayed very still. "Nothing at all. It's just been so... nice. You're so kind, taking such good care of me. It's been different to be away this time, not like Paris or London . Tomorrow, or the next day, we'll go back home to the way things were, and that's fine. It's great, even." Andrea's features contorted in pain. "It's just been really good to be with you." She choked out a laugh that sounded like a sob. "That's all it is. Nothing."

 

Staring down, Miranda thought the moment to take her chance had arrived. "Not nothing," she said. She touched Andrea's face once again, stroking one finger down an exquisite cheekbone.

 

"Please, don't," Andrea moaned. She sat up and turned her face away.

 

Miranda was at once extremely grateful for Andrea's immobility. She moved around the plastic chair and tilted Andrea's chin up. "Don't what?" Miranda asked softly.

 

"Don't be like this. Or touch me like this."

 

Always a contrarian, Miranda did exactly as Andrea had asked her not to and caressed that soft cheek. "Of all you do for me, you'd deny me this, Andrea? The single thing I covet?"

 

Andrea blinked her eyes open, confused. "Pardon?"

 

"You read my mind. Know my every thought, anticipate every whim, but not this. I suppose everyone has a blind spot, and yours just happens to be you."

 

The expression of confusion remained. Miranda moved closer then, sliding her hand behind Andrea's neck. "You were my blind spot for a long time as well."

 

Understanding began to dawn in Andrea's eyes, tempered by disbelief. "I was?"

 

"Oh yes. I found myself thinking about you, wanting to do things for you, and not understanding why. I spent quite some time worrying and wondering. But you're, well, I don't know what you are. A gift from God, perhaps. Come to rescue me from myself."

 

There was a long pause, as Andrea watched her, fascinated. "I--I don't think you need rescuing."

 

Miranda smiled. "Not anymore."

 

"What do you mean?" Andrea asked.

 

Leaning down to that lovely face, Miranda jumped off her cliff. "Read my mind," she said, and kissed her very lightly. Her body leapt to life, and she fitted her lips to Andrea's again and again, tasting the sweetness of her mouth.

 

Time blurred for Miranda as she lost herself in Andrea's smell, her damp skin, her soft hair. When she pulled away, Andrea looked drunk with desire. It was the answer Miranda had hoped for. Rubbing her thumb against Andrea's lower lip, she said, "So?"

 

"You kissed me," Andrea said, dazed.

 

"I did."

 

"You... you love me?" she said, and the hope was so pure and clear in her voice it broke Miranda's heart.

 

"I do."

 

"Oh," Andrea breathed. "Oh my." Another tear slipped from her eye, and her movements grew agitated, hands wringing as she wriggled in the chair. She reached up to Miranda, grabbing at her shoulders. "You'd better be serious," she said, almost angrily. "I mean it, Miranda, if you aren't serious, I'll--I don't know what I'll do." Her eyes darted around the shower stall before returning to Miranda's face. "I will ruin you. You hear me? I will ruin your life if you don't mean it."

 

Miranda couldn't prevent her grin. "Is that right?"

 

"It sure is. Don't believe me?"

 

With a laugh, Miranda tilted her forehead to press against Andrea's. "I've no doubt you could achieve anything you set out to accomplish. But I assure you, I mean every word." It occurred to her she hadn't said it properly yet. She gathered her courage, and breathed, "I love you, Andrea." She smiled again. "Andy."

 

Andrea's eyebrows flew up. "It sounds so funny coming from your mouth."

 

"I'll call you anything you like, as long as you want this too." Miranda licked her lips. "Do you?" Please say you do.

 

She nodded, to Miranda’s boundless relief. "Oh, yes. But if this had never happened, I'd have been perfectly content to go on, just being near you." Andrea wrapped her hand in the hair at the nape of Miranda's neck. "Will you kiss me again? So I know it’s real?”

 

The heat between Miranda's legs flared up, and her nipples hardened under her shirt. "Yes," she whispered. This time there was more assurance in her kiss, and Andrea’s mouth opened right away as she clutched at Miranda’s neck. Miranda burned, and the little sounds Andrea emitted were making it impossible to pull away. It went on until Andrea had unbuttoned her blouse, and Miranda had placed a knee on the plastic chair between Andrea’s thighs. It was a near thing, but finally Miranda jerked back, panting. Why she was waiting was a mystery, but it just felt… wrong to do this here, however much she wanted to.

 

“I’ll—“ Miranda trailed off when she noticed the blush that traveled down Andrea’s throat.

 

“I just need two minutes. To, um—“ she motioned vaguely with her hand. “And then I’ll be out. Can we—“ Andrea swallowed. “Keep going?”

 

Breathless, Miranda stood very quickly. "Ah, yes, I’d say so. Call if you need assistance." Quickly she made her escape, not wanting her raging desire to get the better of her. Besides, she had some preparations to make, and not much time to make them in.

Chapter 5

Notes:

This story spun out of something Telanu mentioned to me once in passing, and though it’s morphed dramatically away from my original concept, I thank her for the initial idea! And of course I owe tons to my beta Xander this time--I stalled on this one for a while because it’s pretty low on plot. She kept me motivated, so yay Xan!

Leaving the steamy heat of the bathroom, Miranda recalled exactly how freezing it was in the house. “Inconvenient,” she mumbled, and eyed the bedroom. She wanted a mattress, and she wanted a fire crackling right next to it. First, she started the fire, which she made faster than perhaps any other in her adult life. Immediately after that, she dragged the mattress off the bed and across the room, and gathered every pillow in the place and threw them on top of it.

 

Her heart was pounding now from exertion when Andrea stepped out of the bathroom, her hair slick against her head. Her robe was wet, and her crutches were under her arms as she eased into the room. “Wow,” she said, eyes lighting up. “You work fast.”

 

“When it suits me,” she said drolly.

 

The brief respite they’d taken made Miranda question Andrea’s desire to be with her, but her fears vanished when Andrea asked, “Do you still want to?”

 

Though a quip leapt to mind, Miranda simply nodded. “Yes.”

 

“It feels… weird.”

 

“That’s because you’re over there. Come lie down with me.”

 

Andrea’s featured seemed to slacken, and two spots of color flared on her cheeks. “Okay,” she breathed, and the rough sound of it made Miranda shudder.

 

As if in a daydream, Miranda watched Andrea come closer, awkward with her broken leg, but no less beautiful for it. She nearly fell into Miranda’s arms, hugging her tightly, shivering in the cold room. Water dripped onto Miranda’s hands as she ran her fingers down Andrea’s spine. It felt wonderful to hold her, so long and slim and fragrant. She wanted her so much.

 

With one hand, Miranda took Andrea’s crutches and left them next to the mattress, and helped Andrea down to rest in the middle of a mass of pillows. It felt decadent, and warm, and it was exactly where she wanted to be. Carefully Miranda arranged the cushions so a wrong move wouldn’t end up setting them on fire. When she reclined, her breath caught at the expression on Andrea’s face, glowing in the amber light.

 

She looked stunned. Pleased, but stunned.

 

“All right?” Miranda asked.

 

Andrea did not answer except to lean up with a kiss that caught Miranda entirely off guard; gone was any hesitation or nervousness. Blindly Miranda searched for the belt of Andrea’s robe, but Andrea ignored her efforts and pushed her onto her back. She rolled over with a grunt and squirmed up Miranda’s body. “Yeah, I’m all right,” she answered, grinning. “I’m great. How about you?”

 

“Better by the second,” Miranda said, and found the knot of Andrea’s belt. It came undone, and when Andrea reared up, instantly her entire body was visible. “Oh, god,” Miranda said, pulling at the fabric to see her better.

 

Her skin was pale as ivory, but to Miranda’s delight, covered with a light dusting of freckles typically invisible at a distance. Everything was proportioned beautifully, her hips rounding gently, curving into a waist that Miranda longed to caress. The urgency that had dimmed during her more practical preparations flooded back, and she reached out her hand and touched one breast.

 

“Mm,” Andrea said. She panted, and shifted all her weight to her good knee, holding herself suspended above Miranda.

 

Another stroke brought more sound. “Oh,” she said, and Miranda watched awestruck as the nipple pebbled before her eyes. A woman’s body is a remarkable thing, Miranda thought. With that, she leaned up and pulled that same nipple into her mouth. Andrea’s skin was hot, and damp, and the texture was wonderful under her tongue. Already she felt over-stimulated despite the fact that she was still dressed and hadn’t even been touched yet.

 

“Jesus,” Andrea breathed, “Oh Jesus.”

 

Miranda wanted more. She reached directly between Andrea’s legs.

 

“Oh wait,” Andrea whimpered, thrusting once against her hand.

 

Miranda exhaled through her nose, reveling in the river of wetness she’d found. “I’ve waited long enough.”

 

“But,” Andrea reached down herself to press one hand to Miranda’s, “Oh, wait. Oh, oh,” she cried again, hips jerking, until her entire body trembled furiously and she wailed in the otherwise silent room.

 

Watching Andrea’s ecstatic face, Miranda thought she had perhaps misjudged her timing. Then again, with the idea that in ten seconds she could give Andrea a rather powerful orgasm, she felt ridiculously pleased with herself.

 

“Oh,” Andrea said, falling to her side and resting her forehead next to Miranda’s. She laughed a little. “I told you to wait. I was kind of worked up.”

 

“I see that,” Miranda purred.

 

“But don’t worry. Won’t take me long to recover.”

 

“How long would that be?”

 

Andrea tilted her head and eyed Miranda seductively. “About as long as it takes me to get your clothes off.”

 

Oh yes, a woman’s body is a remarkable thing . She waited for Andrea to move, and when she didn’t, she said, “You appear to be dawdling, Andrea. Do you need further encouragement?” Miranda reached around to tap her rear.

 

“Demanding even in the sack. This is going to be so much fun,” Andrea said, hoisting herself up and pulling at Miranda’s blouse, already half unbuttoned.

 

“I wouldn’t be me, otherwise,” Miranda sniffed.

 

Andrea got to work then, wrestling with the buttons of her trousers until finally Miranda relented and removed them herself. The cast on Andrea’s leg made everything less than smooth sailing, but soon they were both bare, staring at one another.

 

“You’re very beautiful, and I know you know that,” Andrea said softly, pressing one hand to Miranda’s sternum. “It’s hard to put into words. I’ve just waited so long.” She swallowed. “I’m not sure where to start. I’ve… had a lot of fantasies.”

 

Miranda throbbed between her legs. “You have?” she whispered.

 

“Why do you think I went off like a shot a minute ago?” Andrea kissed Miranda’s collar bone, and nibbled along toward her shoulder. “A big part of my job is keeping you happy, you know, so every once in a while when you looked very tense, I wished I could go into your office and close the door.”

 

Miranda arched her back, and gasped at the feeling of Andrea’s lips on her skin. She’d had the same thought too. Many times.

 

“You’d be wearing that white Bill Blass blouse I love, the one with the plunging neckline.”

 

Miranda nodded, breathless.

 

“I’d just move it aside, and right through the lace of your bra, I’d—“ Andrea inched south. “Lick.” Which she proceeded to do, only without the barrier of lace between them.

 

Miranda’s hips bucked.

 

“Maybe I’d move on to your neck. It’s such a nice neck, so regal and elegant. Especially right here.” Andrea trailed her lips along the tendon that led up to her jaw. “Mm, yeah. And maybe you’d relax a little bit. Till I did this,” she said, and bit down on an earlobe.

 

“Ahh,” Miranda cried, and chewed on the inside of her cheek, wanting to kiss, but wanting Andrea’s mouth to be everywhere at the same time.

 

“And like now, I’d want to draw it out, and torture you with pleasure, but I’d save that for later. At night, in the car, or in your study. Right then I’d just want you to be happy, and for you to come and come till you felt right again.”

 

Both of Andrea’s hands found Miranda’s breasts, squeezing and flicking at her nipples, and Miranda spread her legs, almost ready to get on with things herself. Andrea’s mouth joined her fingers and Miranda grabbed her head, groaning at the sensation.

 

“You even taste good, Miranda,” Andrea said between kisses. “You’re fantastic.”

 

Miranda opened wider, hoping the message would be clear enough for her not to have to beg for it.

 

Andrea paused for a moment and exhaled a few times on the fingers of one hand. “So they’re warm when I touch you,” she explained.

 

Shaking like a leaf, Miranda whined, “I don’t care. I don’t care at all.”

 

With a smile that Miranda thought rather suspicious, Andrea replied, “But I care. I want to do it right the first time. So you never forget.”

 

Somehow Miranda was able to laugh through her need. “Oh, darling, there’s no way on earth I could forget this. Not in a thousand years.”

 

So Andrea reached down, and touched her. Miranda threw her head back, waiting. But Andrea just circled her entrance, avoiding everything else. Slowly, so slowly, she eased inside with one finger, just barely, pressing gently. It was intense, and all of Miranda’s focus was on that tiny patch of flesh.

 

“More,” Miranda finally said. “Please.”

 

A second finger joined the first, and Miranda was so wet that they slipped inside with no effort at all. “Oh god,” Miranda breathed, as ready to come as she’d ever been in her life. “Yes.”

 

“Is it good?”

 

“Oh, yes.” Miranda tried desperately not to thrust her hips.

 

“Another?”

 

“Yes.” Her voice was ragged.

 

A third ventured inside, and Miranda heard only the pounding of her heart.

 

With that, Andrea wriggled lower on the mattress. Miranda’s eyes widened. “I think now,” Andrea said, very matter of fact. And then her mouth was around Miranda’s clit, and it felt so good, so incredibly good that she couldn’t help but move, and Andrea moved with her, fingers pushing inside in just the right rhythm, and she hummed, for god’s sake, she hummed like it was just as good for her.

 

They were completely in tandem, and Miranda was so lost in pleasure that she barely noticed the orgasm that snuck up on her and shook her apart. It was electric, and when Andrea moaned, everything pulsed, and Miranda cried out again.

 

She drifted in a fog, feeling wet hair trail along her thigh. Miranda could hear Andrea’s harsh breathing, and she glanced down. Dark eyes stared at her, and the fingers still inside flexed as Andrea licked her glistening lips.

 

“Come here,” Miranda commanded, and Andrea listened, easing out and crawling up only a little clumsily. They kissed, and atypically Miranda did not wince when she tasted herself. On Andrea, it seemed delicious, and sensual. She wondered if Andrea had been serious about her recovery time and pushed her on her side. “Again?” she whispered.

 

Andrea nodded frantically.

 

So much beautiful skin to explore, Miranda thought, but she wanted it to last a little longer this time around. “Don’t come until I tell you,” Miranda said, using her most authoritative tone.

 

Andrea looked startled, and she laughed. “You overestimate my skill set, Miranda. I can do a lot of things, a million things for you. But probably not that.”

 

Miranda tried to glare, but was unsuccessful. She supposed there were worse things in the world than a partner who could hardly control herself when it came to sex. “Well, you’ll just need a little practice. Or a lot.”

 

Andrea bit her luscious bottom lip. “I can handle practice. Whenever you want.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Say--now, for instance.”

 

And so she moved close, and kissed Andrea. Perhaps a different approach would give her an advantage. She reached down and avoided Andrea’s clit, sliding two fingers inside as their mouths explored each other. Just as she was marveling at the textures, and the strange feeling of being within a body so different from her own, Andrea gasped, moved her hips, and came.

 

Miranda found she liked watching Andrea come down from an orgasm quite a bit, as her features relaxed and returned to their rightful places. “Oh, that was a good one,” Andrea said, her voice thick like honey.

 

Miranda smiled then, realizing just what a boon she’d been granted. They could probably go… all night. “This might take a while,” she mumbled, lowering her lips to a breast that simply could not go ignored any longer. “I hope you’re not tired.”

 

“Not a bit,” Andrea replied, cupping the back of Miranda’s head with an eager hand.

Chapter 6

Notes:

This story spun out of something Telanu mentioned to me once in passing, and though it’s morphed dramatically away from my original concept, I thank her for the initial idea! And of course I owe tons to my beta Xander this time--I stalled on this one for a while because it’s pretty low on plot. She kept me motivated, so yay Xan!

Andrea eventually did tire, as did Miranda, who woke some time later to the delightful sensation of warm skin pressed along her entire form. However, more surprising was the fact that the rest of Miranda was warm too; although the room was only illuminated by the dying embers of the fire, the heat was definitely back on. Andrea was asleep, breathing evenly with a smile on her face.

 

Miranda felt sore between her legs, and when she moved to roll over she realized just how long it had been since she’d had sex for more than a fifteen minute stretch. “I am old,” she muttered as the muscles in both hips complained. Carefully she stood from the mattress and searched out her cell phone. When she found it on the bedside table, her eyebrows lifted when she realized it was only 10pm . The late afternoon had turned to night without her knowledge; of course, she’d been distracted at the time. After washing Andrea’s hair, everything seemed to be a gorgeous blur of sex and soft whispers and holding one another close.

 

It was the most romantic night Miranda had ever experienced.

 

The voicemail light on her Blackberry was on, so she retrieved her robe from the back of the door and slipped into the main room. It was from earlier that afternoon. “Ms. Priestly, we’ve left word with your assistant as well, but we wanted to let you know the roads will be clear by the morning, and someone will be over to your chalet this afternoon to shovel the walks and the driveway. We hope you haven’t been too inconvenienced by your extended stay, and want to thank you for your patronage. Please let us know if there’s anything we can do to make things more comfortable for you on your last night with us. Bye now.”

 

Miranda ended the call, and hoped that whoever shoveled the driveway hadn’t heard anything too interesting. She glanced out the front window and saw a clear path to the car, which had also been brushed clean. Looking at it, she almost regretted the thought of going back to the city, back to their real life. What had happened today felt like a dream. But could she possibly transform such a dream to her day to day existence?

 

They hadn’t discussed the future, but Miranda was certain they had one. Would they be able to continue working together? Would Andrea even want to? If so, it wasn’t exactly illegal when two consenting adults embarked on a relationship at different levels within a company, but someone would have to be told. Someone who was not Irv Ravitz, naturally. Full disclosure would protect both of them and the magazine from potential lawsuits. Miranda knew the HR staff at Runway far better than she wished to, but in this case, her knowledge would come in handy. Within seconds she’d decided which employee would be informed, and she was sufficiently sure that this person would remain silent until necessary. Yes, she nodded to herself, it was a manageable issue.

 

If Andrea agreed to it.

 

Miranda’s stomach growled, and she realized she’d missed dinner. Perhaps a late night snack would do them both good. Quickly she put together a plate of bread, fruit and cheese for both of them, and opened a bottle of Pinot Gris as an accompaniment. The refrigerator was a high quality one, but Miranda was not willing to take a chance on anything making them sick after a nearly full day of power outage.

 

Andrea turned over and grinned when Miranda sat down on the mattress. “Hi.”

 

“Hello,” Miranda said, and allowed herself to lean down for a kiss.

 

Soft lips welcomed her. Andrea reached up to touch her ear, her neck, her hair, so reverently Miranda felt her heart race. “Where’d you go?” she asked.

 

Miranda kissed her nose. “To get dinner. The electricity’s back on.”

 

“Thank god. I was warm enough last night, but I really didn’t want to go through that again.”

 

“Warm?” Miranda said. “I seem to recall it being rather hot, personally,” she said with a sly smile. “When your hand was somewhere it shouldn’t have been?”

 

Andrea’s mouth dropped open. “You were awake? You devil.” She laughed, a full-bodied laugh that shook the mattress. “It was damned near impossible keeping my hands to myself, and you were all over me the second you fell asleep. It was agony, and not the good kind.” She snorted. “If I’d known how you felt we could have gotten started last night instead of today, but I shouldn’t complain.”

 

“You also talk in your sleep. Did you know that?”

 

Andrea grimaced. “I’ve been told before. I didn’t say anything embarrassing, did I?”

 

It was Miranda’s turn to chuckle. “The night you broke your leg, when you were on the painkillers, you mentioned jellybeans. And last night, it was pie.”

 

“Pie?”

 

Even in the near darkness, Miranda felt certain Andrea was blushing now. “Pie.”

 

“Um, well. I like pie.”

 

“I promise to get you the best apple pie on the planet as soon as we get home. Now, eat some of this, and I’ll get the fire going.”

 

Miranda added more wood to the pile of embers and ash. It only took a small amount of kindling to get things back to a bright, happy blaze. She held her hands out to warm them, regret settling over her once more.

 

“Home tomorrow, then?” Andrea asked, munching on an apple slice. “And take off that robe, I want to see you.”

 

Miranda turned and joined her on the makeshift bed. “Since you asked so nicely,” Miranda cracked, and shed her robe. Between the fire and the heat, she was very comfortable without a stitch on. “And yes. Home.”

 

“What happens now?” Andrea’s eyes were wide. Nervous.

 

“I have some thoughts,” Miranda said. “But I’d like to hear yours first if you don’t mind.”

 

“Okay. Well, um, what if we just… continued the way things are?”

 

Miranda wanted to exhale in relief. “You’d go on working for me?”

 

Andrea nodded once. “I don’t want to leave. I love Runway. I’ve learned more about the business in the last six months than I could have over two years in a Masters program.”

 

Miranda agreed.

 

“And… I’d hate to leave you,” Andrea continued, in a much smaller voice.

 

Sipping her wine, Miranda allowed the words to wash over her. “It has been nice, hasn’t it. I barely have to have a thought before you know what I want.”

 

Almost shyly, Andrea added, “I think I like that part as much as anything. Maybe even more. It’s like a secret only we share.”

 

“And this will be another,” Miranda said, motioning to the space between them. “Kept from most people, anyway.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Miranda sighed. “I want to disclose our relationship to someone in human resources, to protect the both of us. Especially you. You need it far more than I.”

 

“I do?”

 

Miranda rolled her eyes. “You haven’t forgotten that you’ll still have to do my bidding. Professionally speaking, of course.”

 

Andrea smirked. “No comment.”

 

Narrowing her gaze, she hoped she’d only have to take such cheek behind closed doors, but then again, they were sitting naked in front of a roaring fire, drinking wine and eating cheese.

 

“I get it,” Andrea finally said, “and I appreciate it. Will the HR rep be allowed to tell anyone?”

 

“No,” Miranda said. Or she’d have his job. And his head, on a silver platter.

 

“Well. Okay. That would be fine. Plus I know it might take some time for us to get used to working together and, uh, being together. It could make things a lot harder. We won’t be able to get away from each other.”

 

“We’re not moving in, Andy,” Miranda said, though the idea had occurred to her. “Yet.”

 

Andrea chuckled. “Still sounds funny. You calling me Andy, I mean.”

 

“Do you dislike it?”

 

“No. It’s kind of cute.”

 

“Mm. Well. Regardless, we can see how it works. It can’t be worse than working with you all day and being denied the pleasure of your company after hours.”

 

“Speaking of that, no nookie in the office,” Andrea said, quite seriously, causing Miranda to indelicately snort wine up her nose.

 

After choking for a moment, she managed, “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you.”

 

Andrea rubbed her back. “Sorry about that. Just wanted to put it out there. I get enough flack from the other clackers about being in your pocket. Couldn’t bear the idea of getting caught out by one of them.” As if realizing that it sounded as though she were ashamed of Miranda, she was quick to reassure her. “When we’re ready to tell people, that’s fine. But till then, I’ll want to be careful.”

 

Miranda wiped her nose with a napkin, and smiled. “We’re of the same mind on that subject. And, if you didn’t already know,” Miranda said softly, “I am very happy.”

 

Blinking in surprise, Andrea said, “Really?”

 

Miranda nodded. “Yes.”

 

“Me too. I’m so happy.” Andrea set her glass of wine down next to the mattress and maneuvered into Miranda’s embrace. “And I’ll be even happier when I get this cast off and can make love to you properly.”

 

“You’ve done an admirable job thus far,” said Miranda.

 

Andrea kissed her, draping long arms around her neck. “Mind if I give it another go?”

 

Miranda tipped them both down onto the pillows. “What do you think?”

 

“I think you should let me do as I please,” Andrea said as she turned over onto her back.

 

Miranda tingled. “By all means.”

 

Expecting Andrea to lean up and kiss her again, she was uncertain when Andrea started to move around the mattress like an uncoordinated snake. It did not take long for her to realize exactly where she was headed when lips caressed her belly. When Andrea had finished her wriggling, Miranda rolled over to straddle her head. Andrea wasted no time, licking her with enthusiasm, moaning when Miranda mirrored the gesture.

 

Unable to concentrate much beyond exactly what was going on between her legs, Miranda simply nuzzled absently at Andrea, rocking her hips until she was nearly at the edge.

 

Finally, Miranda swirled her tongue around Andrea’s clit in an open mouthed kiss. In the back of her mind she heard the surprised cry, but Andrea did not give up her efforts. Seconds later, Miranda groaned as she came, and as she’d hoped, Andrea jerked beneath her mouth, quivering in orgasm as well.

 

Dazed, Miranda pushed herself off and fell on her back. The only sound in the room was the wheeze of lungs as they recovered.

 

After a minute, Andrea said in a stunned voice, “Fuck.”

 

Miranda laughed, and then laughed some more.

 

---

 

When Miranda woke again, she was alone amidst a pile of pillows. She had no idea what time it was, but she felt well rested and starving. Pulling on her robe, she hoisted herself up and decided it was time to go back to yoga if her body reacted this way after a night of enthusiastic love-making.

 

The clank of dishes told her Andrea was in the kitchen, and the scent of coffee confirmed it. Miranda found her loading the dishwasher with the large pile of dishes Miranda had left there over the past days. She never had been good at doing dishes, and usually she had a personal chef and housekeeper on trips like this. Fortunately she'd decided against it this time.

 

Thank god. It would have been very inconvenient.

 

"Morning," she said, and licked her lips. Andrea was in a t-shirt and shorts, and she enjoyed the view.

 

"Hi. You hungry?"

 

"What time is it?"

 

"Almost seven. That's late for you, considering we slept, uh, weird hours last night."

 

"Weird hours indeed," Miranda replied, crossing the room. "Why are you cleaning?"

 

Andrea wrapped her arms around Miranda's waist for a morning kiss. "Because I don't like to leave a mess."

 

"I'm paying a sizable sum to stay here, darling. They can manage to do a few dishes and make a few beds."

 

Andrea shook her head. "No way are we leaving that mattress where it is. It's going back where it belongs."

 

"And who, pray tell, would be moving it?"

 

"We'll do it together."

 

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Fine. But I draw the line at laundry."

 

"No problem," Andrea said. "So. Food?"

 

"Please. I’m famished."

 

"We're kind of low on supplies because of the power, so there's no milk, but I can make you some oatmeal, and we still have a little more fruit—"

 

"I'll make the oatmeal. You go sit. Elevate your leg. After all your acrobatics last night it's a wonder you're able to move at all."

 

"Ha," Andrea said, grabbing Miranda's ass. "I told you, I recover fast. But I am a little sore. It's not too bad though. And it was worth it."

 

"Mm. Yes."

 

Andrea reclined on the sofa, and Miranda watched her plug in all their electronics to recharge before checking her Blackberry. "Nigel's having a panic attack."

 

"What else is new?"

 

"He needs some feedback on the handbags layout pronto. I'll print the pages."

 

Miranda waved a hand. "Fine. I'll look at them over breakfast."

 

So they had breakfast, and as Miranda marked the pages with a red pen and wrote changes in the margins, Andrea texted countless individuals, handling all the details that Miranda never had to worry about since they'd begun working together. She also took down notes whenever Miranda rattled something off, and confirmed the new schedule for the next week, adjusting for extra time with the girls because of their absence.

 

In half an hour, they'd accomplished a great deal, and when Miranda glanced up from her layout, she found Andrea looking at her in wonder.

 

"What?"

 

"I don't feel different."

 

Miranda blinked. "Oh?" she asked faintly.

 

"This is totally going to work," Andrea said with assurance.

 

"It's only the first day," Miranda said, uncertainly.

 

Grinning that silly grin Miranda adored, Andrea looked back down at her Blackberry when it vibrated. "No way. It's going to be great." She exhaled in what Miranda thought might be relief, and started typing on the tiny keypad.

 

Miranda returned to her work, but her lips curved in pleasure. It already is, she thought.

 

Within a couple of hours the two of them had packed their things, and Miranda loaded the car. Andrea looked over the rooms and finished last minute cleaning, despite Miranda's insistence that she stop. It was time to go, and Miranda felt a bittersweet pang at the leaving. This place would be seared into her memory. Perhaps she would buy the property, and return every year with Andrea.

 

But she was getting ahead of herself. Survive a week first before you go buying a house.

 

"Can we take a quick walk in the snow before we go? I feel like I missed out," Andrea pleaded. "Just for a few minutes."

 

Miranda sighed. Crutches were not going to slow her down a bit. "All right. But we should wrap your cast."

 

"Oh, don't worry about it. I'm not going to build a snowman or anything."

 

Before they got in the car, they set out for their stroll. Miranda locked the front door of the chalet and pressed her hand to the warm wood for just a moment before turning to follow Andrea. The sidewalks were clear, but the snow was feet high next to them. The air was crisp and cold. "Feels good after being inside for so long," Andrea said.

 

Miranda agreed. "It does. It is lovely here. Perhaps we could… come back. Another time."

 

"Just say the word," Andrea said, turning her face toward the sun. “You know, I was thinking. When we get home, I know a lot more card games. Poker and uh, other stuff.”

 

Miranda eyed her. “Is that right?”

 

“Mm-hmm.”

 

“And what will we play for?” Miranda asked, her cheeks growing warm.

 

The corner of Andrea’s mouth twitched. “I think the terms are negotiable.”

 

Miranda took a deep breath. “I should hope so.”

 

And then one crutch slipped on an invisible patch of ice. “Whoops!” Andrea cried as she went flying into three feet of snow.

 

"Good lord," Miranda said, leaning down to brush off Andrea’s face as she lay in the powder. "Are you hurt?"

 

Andrea blinked up at her, eyes wide. "No," she said, making no move to get up.

 

"Give me your hand," Miranda said, wondering if they'd have to get her a change of clothes before they got in the car.

 

Andrea reached up to grasp her glove, and proceeded to yank Miranda down next to her. Her mouth full of snow, Miranda turned her sharpest glare on Andrea, who was laughing hysterically. "I had to do it," Andrea insisted, cackling and pulling Miranda closer. "I had to. Seriously. You would have done the same thing."

 

"My god, you are truly insane," Miranda said, disgruntled to feel icy water dripping into her collar and down the back of her trousers. "How did I fall in love with an insane person?"

 

Andrea touched her lips with wet fingers, laughter dying out. "Hey,” she said softly. “I’m in love with you, by the way."

 

Those dark eyes were irresistible, and Miranda’s irritation vanished in an instant.

 

“I love you like crazy,” Andrea continued. “Maybe you're insane too, and we're made for each other."

 

"Oh," Miranda said. Astonishment and pleasure and joy warred for dominance in her chest. "Oh. Well." She smiled. "Maybe." She leaned in and kissed Andrea's cold, cold mouth.
 
the end.