Connected Hearts - Four Lesbian Romance Stories Read Online Free PDF Page A

mean you’ll come to the living room with me?” Michelle sobered. “Listen, I’m really not trying to get fresh with you or anything, but you look like hell. You should really take an Aspirin and wait for it to kick in before you get behind the wheel.”
    Her honesty was disarming. And she was right. Driving with a hangover was almost as bad as drunk driving. Waiting a few more minutes before they left wouldn’t hurt, especially now that they both knew where they stood. “All right. You win.”
    * * *
    Michelle’s living room made Amanda’s small apartment seem like an emergency shelter. Two recliners were angled toward a cozy fireplace that made the stylish room look more inviting. A red fleece blanket had slipped off the leather couch.
    As it had been in the bedroom, large, framed prints dominated this room too. Next to the TV hung a large photograph of two gnarled, age-spotted hands cradling a tiny baby. In another print, half a dozen kids between the age of two and twelve piled onto Michelle, hugging her. All of them shared the same hair and eye color, like rich Swiss chocolate. Michelle, who was crouched to be at eye level with the smaller kids, looked as if she was about to be toppled over under the onslaught, but instead of catching herself, both of her hands steadied the youngest child, preventing him from falling.
    “That’s a great picture,” Amanda said, pointing.
    Michelle turned and regarded the photo with a fond expression. “Yeah. That’s my brother’s brood.”
    Amanda stared at her. “Your brother has six children?”
    “What can I say? Marty never knew when to stop.” Michelle set the bottle of Aspirin and a water glass on the coffee table. She bent, picked up the blanket, and folded it. Sweeping her arm, she invited Amanda to sit.
    Amanda took two steps toward her, then stopped when the largest DVD collection she had ever seen caught her attention. Even her own paled in comparison. There had to be several hundred DVDs, filling shelf after shelf in a ceiling-high bookcase. “Wow. Apparently, you don’t know when to stop either.”
    Michelle laughed. Not the polite little laugh or dainty giggle that some of Amanda’s colleagues had, but a full-out laugh that seemed to fill the air with joy.
    At the loud sound, Amanda’s headache flared up. She winced.
    “Sorry.” Michelle stopped laughing and pressed her fingers to her full lips, but her eyes still twinkled. “Yeah, I go a bit overboard when it comes to movies. Would I have anything that you’re in?”
    Amanda had long since learned to expect that question whenever people found out she was an actress. “Do you tape commercials or bad soap operas?”
    “Um, no.”
    “Then no, you don’t have anything I’m in.”
    An understanding smile spread across Michelle’s face. “Ah, so your career hasn’t yet taken off. Don’t worry, it will. You’ve got the face for it.”
    Amanda eyed her. Was Michelle one of these smooth-talking butches who complimented women left and right? After ten years in Hollywood, Amanda was immune to that kind of flattery. “Thanks, I think,” she said and crossed the room. “At least your lines are much better than those of my red-haired drinking buddy.” She winced as soon as she had said it.
    “Lines?” Michelle shook her head. “Nope. I leave delivering lines to you actresses. I really meant it. You know, you remind me of my favorite actress of all times. I thought so as soon as I saw you last night.”
    “So who’s your favorite actress? Sandra Bullock in Twenty-Eight Days ?” Amanda couldn’t remember most of last night, but her behavior must have been just as embarrassing as that of the movie’s alcoholic main character. She took a step toward the coffee table to pick up the Aspirin.
    Michelle laughed, though not as loud as before. “No. It wasn’t the fact that you were drinking like a fish that reminded me of my favorite actress. It’s the way you move and those earnest, big, blue eyes