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Son takes over.

.. uninviting weather?"

A feeling close to panic took hold of Meaghan for a brief second as she simply stared at the other woman. Most unprofessional of her. "I..." she began in a quavering voice, "I was thinking of my husband. He's not here." Obviously.

Samantha tried to keep her smile subdued, her head tilting to the side a degree or two as she regarded the other woman. "Yes, down to Atlanta, if the household gossip is to believed. Atlanta is a long way from Maine."

"Business," Meaghan supplied quietly, already uncomfortable since she hadn't wanted him to go in the first place. "Can I get you anything to drink, Samantha? I didn't really bring anything but the whiskey, but I can probably find whatever you want."

Samantha couldn't keep the amused grin from her face as implications of that offer wandered through her mind. "J.D. is just fine by me," she answered simply, brown eyes twinkling mischievously.

Meaghan got to her feet somewhat unsteadily, and wandered over to the fireplace where the bottle rested on top of a small cabinet. As she bent to take a glass from the cabinet, Samantha took unabashed pleasure in the woman's form.

"Here you are," Meaghan announced, intruding on the carpenter's fantasies and heading back to the fire-lit couch. "I won't keep you too long, though. I'm sure you need to get home to your family," the young woman announced with a lazy smile. Obviously, her own glass of whiskey had not been her first of the evening.

Samantha laughed softly as she took the offered glass. "Don't worry, I doubt my cat is waiting up for me." She winked at Meaghan as the woman all but fell to the couch, sloshing a tiny bit of her drink onto her thigh, just inches from her hip.

"Oh damn," Meaghan muttered in a voice just barely above a whisper.

"Allow me," Sam interrupted, leaning down to place her glass underneath the couch. She began to reach for the handkerchief in her pocket as she studied Meaghan's unblinking gaze. Suddenly, a smile inched across her lips as she leaned down, lips falling to the place the whiskey had spilled, her mouth sucking in gently as her tongue lapped against the damp fabric.

It took a long moment for Meaghan to react, her eyes widening at this act which seemed to take a long time to seep into her whiskey-numbed mind. "What..." she uttered quietly as her hands rose to rest softly at Samantha's temples. "Very resourceful of you," she finished slowly as she smiled, eyes half closing as she took a deep breath.

Samantha rose, eyes searching Meaghan's face. Finding that pleasured look, she scooted toward the other woman until she was sitting right next to her, their legs touching. "Always prepared," Sam answered in a drawl, "that's me." She let her hand stray over to the spot of the spill, fingers playing lightly against the wet fabric.

For Meaghan it was simply too much: the stress of the day, the flashbacks, the fantasies, and now this strange encounter. She reached out towards Samantha as she carelessly set her glass to the side, finding the small coffee table more by instinct than awareness. She grasped the fabric of Sam's shirt at her stomach and leaned forward, eyes closing as she sought the woman's lips with her own, finally meeting them with a heated caress, eyes closing as if to enjoy the single sensation of that kiss.
Surprised, she felt Samantha's tongue prod gently but insistently against her lips. As they opened, that tongue darted inside in an invasion that was utterly alluring. Spurred on both by intense desire and the flight of inhibitions, Meaghan began to tug at the buttons of Samantha's shirt until it was hanging off her shoulders. Meaghan's hands explored the rosy flesh as her own tongue began to explore the other woman's mouth, reveling in the tastes and sensations. As her hands fell to cup the woman's breasts, Meaghan was again surprised as Samantha began to tug her own blouse off her shoulders.

In a frenzy of thought, Samantha couldn't believe this was happening, and yet she couldn't seem to make herself stop.

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