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Blunt home truths Nicola might take as deserved from Millie, but she wouldn’t oblige the head clerk. She dismissed his email with a swipe at the Ashmolean and drew back her shoulders. As she strode up St Giles, she imagined the clerk crushed beneath her heels the whole way, and when she blasted through the oak doors into the hallowed chambers, she spied Neville immediately.

The head clerk didn’t scuttle away this time. He smiled at her like a lizard and waited for her to approach.

“What do you mean, the date for Head of Chambers nominations has passed?” she projected, not needing to reach him for her voice to arrive.

She stopped and towered above him.

The supercilious clerk smirked.

“The date is today, and the time was nine this morning, Nicola,” he said, bowing a little, as if respectful.

“Not close-of-business like any other sensible organisation?”

“We have our traditions, Nicola, as you are learning.”

“Yes, you do. I'm not convinced this is one of them, however.”

The head clerk shrugged with his eyebrows. “You’re new here. You were not to know. But no-one else has a problem with this.”

“I am new here. In fact, I'm the only Silk who’s joined the organisation in years. But it's plain and obvious what anyone would expect.”

“Those are our rules,” he said, with teeth bared. It definitely wasn’t a smile.

They’d gained attention. She didn’t need to turn round to know people loitered in doorways listening to the confrontation. He must think he stood on safe ground today, not scurrying away to hide in the clerks’ office. But Nicola had more practice at this kind of spectator sport.

“It lacks transparency, Neville.”

His cheek twitched.

“The last thing reputable chambers need is opacity,” she added. “It’s not appreciated by clients or any barrister worth their salt.”

“That may be but–”

“And,” she cut him off, then softened her voice as if reasonable, while letting its power work into every room, “I can be open about these chambers’ lack of transparency. You know my links to law publications.”

“But still–”

“Put my name in the hat, Neville.” She blinked slowly. “By close of business. And I promise to drag these chambers out of the graveyard and zap its dying heart back to life.”

His eyes flicked everywhere. Yes, people watched.

“Very well.” He performed an ingratiating smile. “You have to win though, Nicola. Perhaps you won’t receive as many votes as you assume. Where would that leave you?”

“I’m happy to accept the result.” She smiled right back, then stepped forward. “I can take my clients and reputation elsewhere whenever it suits me. And...” she drew it out, “take your best lawyers with me.”

Silence. Just the notion of a crackle in the atmosphere. Yes, everyone watched.

“Do we understand each other?” She smiled, letting every intention of crushing him shine through.

“We do,” Neville muttered.

“Good,” Nicola snapped, and she strode down the hallway towards her room.

As she sat, a tall colleague poked his head round the door.

“Yes, Philip,” she projected, swinging around in her chair.

He didn’t flinch, more than used to facing her on the warpath. “So, you’ve announced your candidacy for head of chambers then.”

“Yes, I have,” she said emphatically.

“Good.” He grinned. “Good, good, good.”

Which left personal issue number three this Monday. Still only Monday.

Actually, the one she dreaded. Was that nerves? Out of her depth and into the unknown. Of course, this person would bring them out.

***

“Could I treat you to a coffee? Ashmolean cafe?” said the message that pinged on Geeta’s phone.

No, Geeta didn’t bloody fancy coffee with Nicola.

Not after her behaviour towards Charlotte and Millie. What the heck was she playing at? That was the world’s worst reception to a pregnancy announcement.

“Oh for–” She was so cross with her.

She hadn’t been this livid with anyone, ever. Apart from the last time Nicola had earned it. And, no, she wouldn’t be summoned to the Ashmolean.

“I’m late with my lunch break and going out at 3. You can meet me then if you like,” Geeta tapped into her phone, then set it down next to her screen on the reception desk.

She was buggered if she was leaping at Nicola’s beck and call. Besides, she was also busy.

“I’ve emailed you the list of caterers we used last time,” came from behind.

Liz, the office manager, appeared over her shoulder from the small office behind the reception desk. She slumped into the chair beside Geeta with an ‘oof’.

“You know,” Liz grumbled, “your daughter is one of my favourite people. But,” she growled, “I nearly swore at her when she voted with Hugo. Resurrecting the company event last minute? I am not pleased with her.” Liz waggled her finger.

The manager looked tired. Older than Olivia, with grey smoking through her black curls and the beginnings of creases on her dark skin, but younger than Geeta, she’d always found her easy company.

“I’ll try the whole list.” Geeta squeezed Liz on the knee. “We’ll find someone.”

“Luckily Annie, the events officer at Worcester College, kept the slot open for us.”

Geeta nodded.

“Although right now I could throttle her too,” Liz added. “Because if she hadn't, I could say no to Olivia and Hugo.”

Geeta chuckled. “We can do this,” she said, scanning through the list of companies to contact.

She’d been on the phone most of the day, chatting with musicians, food van owners and Annie. Her most fun day at Bentley, Oduwole and Sachdeva so far. And with the benefit of stopping her from stewing about Nicola bloody Albright.

An hour later though, while mid email, the front door opened. Footsteps approached and a presence loomed over the desk.

She knew it was Nicola. That perfume for a start. She was annoyed she recognised it now, even discerning the individual scents. The fragrance was surprisingly subtle, vanilla and cinnamon, and annoyingly nice. It was harder to be cross with someone when they smelled so good you wanted to taste them. Or at least, ask which perfume they wore.

“I’ll be with you in moment,” Geeta said, with a tut on the T at the end. And yes, it was petty using a busy-receptionist voice to an anonymous client, when she knew it was Nicola stood there.

Oh, she was still livid though. Getting her head down in work hadn't eased it one bit. She looked up and opened her mouth to say...something that instantly disappeared from her mind.

Blazer slung over shoulder, cream silky shirt open at the collar, weight dropped to one side, designer suit trousers luxurious, and long fingers curled on hip. The watch. The stance. The bloody arrogance of the woman.

Geeta blinked. Eroticism didn’t usually work its magic from someone simply standing there, but Nicola like that hit her everywhere. She took a breath to revive her body that was slinking off somewhere with Nicola’s sheer bloody charisma.

Why on earth did it have to be this woman? Why was it Nicola who prodded and teased open her queer awakening?

“Nicola,” Geeta said.

“Geeta,” Nicola purred in reply.

“I hear you had lunch with Charlotte,” she said with another tut.

“I did. And I apologised to both her and Millie.”

“Good.”

Because Geeta would not be having this conversation with her if she hadn’t.

She’d seen Charlotte come back from lunch, a little lighter, a little happier, though still melancholy. And a quiet: “Saw Mum. She...she apologised...About...You know...”

“I know,” Geeta had said and squeezed her hand.

Nicola tilted her head in that unique Nicola way. Chin lifted, smile curling on her lips. Staggeringly confident and annoyingly attractive.

“So, where are we off to?”

Geeta didn’t have a plan, but while being petty minded about Nicola, one occurred to her.

“I need to go up Broad Street,” she said, grabbing her bag from beneath the desk.

“OK,” Nicola shrugged as if easy.

Geeta rolled her eyes. As if Nicola was ever easy.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and called into the office behind. “Caterer’s booked. I’m off for my break.”

“Fantastic!” Liz shouted back. “I could kiss you right now!”

Geeta laughed, swung around the desk and looked up to find Nicola glowering.

What was that look?

“Problem?” she said, drawing herself up.

Nicola’s gusto waned a little. Her bright blue eyes bored into Geeta’s, swept around her face, then looked away, almost evasive at what she’d concluded. The arrogance didn’t have a long vacation though. With a tilt of her head and a lick of the lips, Nicola purred:

“No.”

Really?

“Hmm,” Geeta said.

See, she had a suspicion about Nicola.

“Come on then,” Geeta said, bustling out of Bentley. “Ms I don’t have a problem with anything queer,” she grumbled under her breath.

Because that was definitely a look from Nicola when Liz joked about kissing her.

Geeta intended walking off in a huff, but damn it, Nicola didn’t even let her flounce off into the distance, because those long, sexy legs immediately caught up.

They strode up Beaumont Street, Geeta glaring at Nicola, who returned an indolent questioning expression, as if tired of Geeta’s mood.

They passed the ridiculous, gothic Randolph Hotel and crossed the road, past a group of students in bright colours rattling a bucket by the spire monument. A rainbow flag and banner said they raised money for Oxford Pride.

Geeta stopped, glared at Nicola some more, then turned all smiles for the student selling rainbow pins. She popped several coins into the slot, pushed the pin into her blazer lapel and patted it pointedly with yet another glare at Nicola.

Nicola rolled her eyes. “What is this?”

“What is what?” Geeta muttered, forging ahead towards Broad Street.

“First, welcoming Liz’s offer to kiss you. Then the very pointed pride flag. Is this an attempt to rub my nose in everything queer, like some military tactic? Operation Gay?”

“Maybe,” Geeta growled.

“For goodness’ sake, why?”

Geeta spun round to Nicola, stopping them both dead.

“Because I have a tiny suspicion,” she pinched her fingers close, “that your response to Charlotte being pregnant is homophobic.”

“What?”

Geeta waited for Nicola to consider it.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Nicola purred in that indolent tone she used with underlings.

“Actually,” Geeta added, “I think you’re being homophobic and misogynistic about it.”

Oh, that did rile her.

“I said nothing,” Nicola pointed a finger, “about them being lesbians.”

“Lesbian and bi.”

Nicola inhaled. “Lesbian and bi,” she muttered.

Geeta stared at the tall woman, trying to fathom what went on behind those startling blue eyes.

“I don’t think, for one moment, you'd have said anything to Charlotte if she’d been with a man.”

Nicola tipped her chin higher. “I’ve supported Charlotte and Millie ever since they got together as a couple.”

“True. But there are degrees of support. And degrees of homophobia.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” A petulant roll of the eyes.

Geeta stood her ground. “Is it,” she paused for emphasis, “because they are two women?”

“Well, it does introduce issues,” Nicola said dismissively. “The child will grow up in a different family to most and will encounter issues at school because of it. Of course, I worry about that.”

Fury burned in Geeta’s belly. “I hope that means you'll be ready with support if that happens, rather than using it as a reason they shouldn’t have children?”

Nicola watched her.

Geeta carried on, “Because I’d hate to think you're saying marginalised people shouldn’t have children because those children would face discrimination.”

Nicola nodded. “I agree. It’s a reason I should provide more support, not less.”

“Good.”

Geeta turned on her heel and they fell into step, walking in the middle of the wide street with large planters and spring flowers blooming in the sun’s rays.

“Is that it then?” Nicola said. “Have I passed your gay tolerance test?”

Geeta spun around, but gave herself a moment. Did she believe her? Was Nicola Albright changed from all those years ago?

“You might remember,” she said carefully, “that last Saturday, I came out to you.”

Nicola opened her mouth but paused. See, there was an issue.

“I remember vividly,” she said.

“Well then. Maybe you’ll appreciate why I’m touchy about this, given your responses in the past and Saturday’s chaos.”

Silence.

Nothing. Nothing at all from the barrister.

Damn her. Geeta marched on. Damn, damn, damn her. Because her new boundaries were fresh and tender and far too vulnerable to the likes of Nicola.

“Geeta,” Nicola called from behind. And the sound of stabbing heels caught up. “I'm sorry about Saturday and how I reacted. Charlotte's announcement...and yours...took me by surprise. I've apologised to Charlotte, even though it hasn't sunk in yet.”

“So, you’re all right with it? Me being...”

Geeta stopped and waved her hand around, then placed it on her hip, challenging Nicola for an answer.

Sharp eyes searched hers with an intensity. There was so much going on in Nicola Albright’s mind, always. Her lips opened, eyes searched more, but no words came out. And Nicola always had words.

Knew it.

Nicola wasn’t flipping all right about this.

“Fine,” Geeta growled, intending to march off.

But before she turned, fingers slipped between arm and breast and gently tugged her back.

“I didn’t say anything was wrong about it, Geeta.”

Oh for–

The patronising–

“Do not use that tone with me,” she pointed at Nicola. “Because it’s not obvious you’d be accepting.”

And she was livid about how good Nicola’s fingers felt, slipping between her arm and breast.

Geeta detoured sharply into Blackwell's Bookshop and marched to the fiction section they’d browsed weeks before. There it was. She was damn well buying this. She didn’t care what Nicola thought.

“Oh, you're going to buy it,” Nicola said. “That’s the romance you were looking at.”

“Yes it is.” Geeta snatched up the colourful book. “And.” She paused while she engaged Nicola's full attention. “It’s a sapphic romance.”

Nicola gazed at her. Was that amusement curling at her lips?

“This one’s woman on woman .” Geeta stepped forward and thrust the cover at Nicola. “ Boob on boob .” She added, pointing to the chests on the small figures.

She wanted to say more, but wasn’t actually certain what lesbians did in bed. Although she’d been wondering and had several good ideas.

“Sounds delightful,” Nicola said.

Really? Geeta narrowed her eyes.

“Chock full of lesbians,” she challenged.

And she stepped right into Nicola’s space, up warm and personal, to watch for the slightest twitch on that striking face.

Blue eyes glinted down at her. Stars of lines shone. The lips curled. And the fragrance, both the perfume and its particular magic blend on Nicola’s skin, filled her senses.

Geeta inhaled and paused. She possibly hadn’t thought this through.

Nicola reached up. For a moment she assumed Nicola would take the book, but instead she wrapped soft fingers around Geeta’s and stepped into their intimate space. The tall woman gazed over the book and held Geeta’s hands with a sensuality that made her want to growl, in a mauling lioness kind of way.

“Well,” Nicola’s voice dropped into velvet suggestion, “perhaps I could borrow it afterwards.”

Geeta’s head spun in the cushion of warmth, talking woman on woman with Nicola Albright. Who smiled with assured sex appeal. Whose body heat touched hers. And the temptation to draw that book and Nicola closer...

“I...erm...” She gulped. “...Need to pay for this.”

“Then coffee afterwards?” Nicola murmured.

That seductive purr resonated inside. It caressed through Geeta’s fingers, tingled up her arms, lavished pleasure on her neck and sought every sensitive place, up and down.

“Fine,” Geeta gasped.

“Looking forward to it,” Nicola whispered, before slowly letting her go.

And Nicola murmuring then gently releasing her was also peak delicious. Geeta swayed and stepped back.

“So, are we friends again?” Nicola grinned.

Geeta swallowed. And regrouped. “S’pose.”

And in a daze, she left to pay, sensing Nicola’s eyes all over her, and feeling an entirely different person while she clutched her paperback lesbian lovers.

So. Nicola as a friend again.

A friend she’d like to....