Suddenly she felt shy, and had to fight the urge to cover her breasts and pubic hair with her hands, not a normal reaction for her. But his gaze was so intense, his words so passionate-sounding, she was embarrassed.
“Don’t, baby, let me look.”
God, how had he known what she’d been thinking? She put her hand out to him again and this time he took it. When he was in the tub he turned on the jets. For the first few minutes they sat wordlessly enjoying the sound, movement, and warmth of the water.
Then he pulled her over on his lap. She hadn’t known how much she wanted to be there until she was. It felt like where she belonged, his arms around her, her head on his shoulder, and her face nuzzled into his neck.
The kiss that came next was as passionate as his words had been earlier. And with access to her bare breasts, he took advantage of it, massaging and caressing first one breast, then the other, pulling gently on her nipples so a zing of desire shot from her chest to her belly. She wriggled free of his embrace and moved so she was astride him, pressing her sex against his penis. Groaning, he rocked his hips into her.
“Oh, baby, you feel so good.”
“Sure it’s not the massaging jets?” she asked.
“What am I gonna do about that mouth?”
“I have an idea about that,” she said as she began to slide down onto the floor of the spa tub.
“Oh, no,” he objected. “This is about you tonight.” Grinning at her, he lifted her up and set her back on his lap, reached over the side of the tub, and grabbed a condom. He handed it to her, saying, “Here. You can open this and help me put it on. Think you can do that without any more wise-ass remarks?”
“I can try.”
She could more than try. She got the condom on him and then raised herself on her knees on the bench where he was sitting. Slowly, holding his gaze with hers, she lowered herself onto him. She loved the way he shuddered when he had completely filled her. Loved the feeling of having him deep inside her. Loved the way he licked his lips before kissing her breast, like she was a tasty morsel he couldn’t wait to get in his mouth.
It was intense. The massaging water, the feel of his mouth and tongue playing with her nipples, suckling her almost to orgasm, the slow and steady rocking of his hips moving with her as she rode him in an up and down motion.
She tried to slow it down, to keep it going, keep it from ending too soon. But her body wouldn’t cooperate. In what seemed like no time at all, she could feel herself clench around him, felt him grow even harder as her climax washed over her and she called out his name before collapsing on him. He nipped at the heartbeat at the base of her throat and joined her, emptying himself into her.
It took a minute or two before either one was willing to move. She finally slid off his lap and sat next to him while he removed the condom and tossed it into a wastebasket she hadn’t seen next to the tub.
He gathered her back into his arms and gently rocked her, as if to soothe her.
“Mmm. This feels so good. Thank you,” she murmured.
“My pleasure. And I mean that quite literally.” He kissed the side of her head. “Even if it was a week later than I’d planned.”
“I wondered if you always kept all that close by,” she said, indicating the condom, the wastebasket, and a second foil packet on the floor.
“No, it was for you. But we never made it out of the bedroom.” He looked so proud of that fact she had to laugh.
“In how many other rooms do you keep a stack of condoms?”
“I think we’ve covered it. I’m willing to play if you want to have sex someplace else. But if it’s on the dining room table or the kitchen counters, I’m warning you, it’ll be strictly missionary. I don’t want to be on the bottom on those hard surfaces.”
“Sure, let the girl get crushed into the wood or stone. Nice going, Doc.”
“Hey, I didn’t say we
had
to do it there. Only telling you what the ground rules would be if we did.”
The sound of her pager going off came from the next room. “Oh, shit. I have to take it.” She scrambled out of the tub, wrapped herself in a bath sheet, and ran to his bedroom where she rummaged through her purse until she found her pager.
It was Sam trying to find her. She dug for her cell and called him.
“Hey, what’s up, Sam?”
“I tried your house and your desk. No answer. You still at the crime scene?”
“Not exactly.”
“Ah, you’re with the doc.”
“Sam, what do you want?”
“Well, as much as I hate to interfere with young love, I wanted to find out what happened at the transient camp today. Would this be a good time to brief me?” He had a smug tone to his voice she was only too familiar with.
She snorted. “No, Sam, it wouldn’t. But you already knew that. Do you really need to know tonight or can I meet you first thing in the morning and do it then?”
“How about hitting the highlights then details in the morning?”
She complied then added, “So, I’ll meet you at the Justice Center about nine and we can brainstorm, if you can get away.”
“Nine works. Amanda can take the boys home. They have to go back to their mom early anyway for some family thing.”
She was about to say good-bye when he added, “One more thing — well, two more things — then I’ll hang up — are you in his bedroom on your phone and are you dressed?”
“Jesus Christ, that’s way beyond your need-to-know.”
“Ah, so it’s ‘yes’ to the first and ‘no’ to the second question.”
“This is why I don’t tell you about my private life.”
“What private life? You haven’t had one in the three years I’ve been your partner. I have a whole lot to make up for here. And I’m an old married man living vicariously … ”
In the background Danny heard his wife Amanda interrupt, “An old married man who’s not going to get lucky anytime in the foreseeable future if he doesn’t stop harassing his partner who happens to be my friend.”
“Thank your wife for me. I’ll see you in the morning.” Not letting her partner get another sentence in, Danny ended the call.
When she went back to the spa tub room, Jake had gotten out and wrapped a towel around his hips, a look that suited him very well. The way he walked toward her reminded her of the way the cat she used to have stalked prey. It made her shudder and sent a swirl of desire around her belly.
“Sam curious about what you’re up to?”
“Sam’s incurably curious. But it’s none of his damn business.” She reached for him, running her fingers up through the hair on his chest to his jawline then the damp curls at the base of his neck.
“I don’t care if he knows we’re together. Do you?”
“That’s not the point. If you give him an inch he takes the whole nine yards. He can’t help it.”
“He’s very protective of you, isn’t he?”
“We protect each other. That’s what partners do — they have each other’s backs.”
Jake outlined her eyes, her nose, and her mouth with his index finger. “I’m glad it’s Sam who has your back. It makes me feel better.”
“About what?”
“About caring for someone who does such a dangerous job.”
“I told you, once I got out of a patrol car, it got a hell of a lot safer. Many of the people I meet are dead. The ones who aren’t are dazed or … ”
“Or guilty of murdering one person already.”
“Yes, that’s true. But I have an entire police force at my back when I have to deal with them.” She shook off his hand, annoyed he was pushing about the subject. “What happened to Jake the romantic? Did he disappear someplace? I’d kinda like to have him back.”
“You want him, you got him. I’ll move the candles to the bedroom. You are staying the night, aren’t you?”
The next weekend was somewhat less complicated. Danny worked all morning on Saturday but wasn’t called back on a new case. So she finally got to make dinner for Jake, although she had to recreate the menu yet again. She’d cooked the salmon steaks for a couple dinners for herself during the week and, sadly, a large chunk of the gingerbread had also found its way into her mouth.
Actually, the menu wasn’t all that hard to figure out — the halibut was available this time when she went to the store and the pears worked out for poaching. Salad makings were always in season.
Jake had told her he’d bring the ingredients for martinis and arrived with the requisite gin, vermouth, olives, and two beautiful cocktail glasses, which he’d brought because he’d been appalled when she said she would serve the martinis in wine glasses. He insisted the glasses were to be kept at her house so they could be filled with the appropriate spirits anytime the urge hit her. Or them.
He mixed the martinis and, after he poured them into the glasses, wandered off to her living room to put on music. She was curious what he’d find that appealed to him but wasn’t surprised when it turned out to be Pink Martini. Any music fan in Portland liked the local band with the world-beat sound.
She was plating the Marcona almonds, Manchego cheese, and crackers they would snack on while they had their cocktails when she heard him call, “Hey, how come you have this?”
“What
this
?” she asked.
He appeared at the kitchen door holding something she should have known he’d notice. “
This
this.”
“It’s a menorah,” she said. “It’s used to light the candles during Hanukkah.”
He gave her a raised eyebrow and a half smile. “I’m aware of what it is, Danny. What I don’t know is why you have it.”
“My mother’s Jewish. We always celebrated Hanukkah. She gave it to me when I went off to college so I could keep up the tradition.”
“Your mother’s Jewish? According to tradition, that means you’re Jewish, too.”
“I’m aware of what tradition says it means, Jake,” she said, turning his words back on him. “But I’m not really Jewish. In spite of my mom’s best efforts I was a Hebrew school dropout. We didn’t belong to a synagogue because my father’s Lutheran. Didn’t belong to a church because my mother’s Jewish. We did light Hanukkah candles. In the years when the two holidays overlapped, we’d do it in front of the Christmas tree. I guess because I grew up with both, I don’t much believe in either. Maybe I’m missing the gene for religion.”
“Being Jewish is more than a religion. It’s a cultural identity.”
“So I hear.” She took a sip of her drink. “Shall we go sit down while you cross-examine me more about my spiritual and cultural background?”
He waved her into the living room and sat next to her on the couch. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to come across like the Spanish Inquisition. The menorah was a surprise. I assumed you knew I was Jewish, my name gives it away. But I didn’t know you were.”
“Your name and the Star of David on the chain around your neck. And maybe if I’d told you my middle name it would have given you a hint. It’s Rebecca.”
“There are lots of non-Jewish Rebeccas. Now, if you’d said it was Rivka … ”
“Actually, that’s what my mother calls me.” She sipped her martini. “So, are you culturally or religiously Jewish?”
“Certainly the former. Not so much the latter, although along with the rest of my family I belong to a synagogue.”
“Beth Israel would be my guess.”
“Your guess would be correct — from my great-great grandparents on. But I’m not a regular at services although every few years I give in to family pressure and show up for Yom Kippur.”
“The best we did was the occasional Shabbat dinner and Passover Seder with my grandparents. And, like I said, celebrated Hanukkah. I bet you did it all, even were bar mitzvahed.”
“Oh, yeah. Couldn’t escape that.” He laughed. “Or weekly Shabbat dinners and Passover with all the family — which is a big group, given that we’ve been in Portland since right after Lovejoy and Pettygrove flipped the coin to decide whether their city would be Boston or Portland.”
He looked at her over the rim of his cocktail glass. “Why don’t you come with me to my parents’ house some Friday for Shabbat? I usually try to make it there unless I’m on call.” He must have seen the panic in her eyes at the idea of meeting his huge extended family all at once because he quickly added, “It’s not the whole tribe on Fridays, just my parents and sometimes my brother, his wife, and their kids.”
“I couldn’t do that,” she said, shaking her head. She dropped her eyes to the glass she was holding so tightly she was afraid she might snap the stem.
“My family would love to meet you. They’ve been hearing about you for the last month and are intrigued. I’ve been told recently I don’t talk much about my personal life and they’re interested in the woman who’s suddenly made an appearance in my conversation.”
She wasn’t sure she liked the smirk that accompanied the comment. “Like, what’re you saying?”
“Oh, probably that I’ve been seeing this kick-ass woman who’s beautiful, has a fabulous body, kisses like she knows what she’s doing, makes love like … ”
“Seriously, Jake? You’re going with that explanation? Do you think that’ll get you fed and fucked?”
The gin he’d sipped from his glass was suddenly sprayed all over both of them. As he mopped up the drink with the cocktail napkins she handed him, he said, “So, that’s your plan for the evening? How very concise of you.”
“It got the reaction I was looking for, at least.” She finished the last of her martini, popped a couple almonds in her mouth and stood up. “Ready for the feeding part?”
“Baby, I’ve been ready for both parts for days. Lead the way.”
The evening was a success and by the end of it, Jake had worn down her resistance. Danny agreed to go to Shabbat dinner with his family the first Friday they could work it out.
• • •
They woke the next morning to a gloriously sunny Sunday. After a sweet session of lovemaking, they cooked breakfast together. Danny was amused to discover she was finding any little excuse she could to touch him, bump into him, stand close to him. He couldn’t keep away from her either, leaning down and kissing her cheek or the top of her head, trailing his fingertip across her cheek and down her jaw, his eyes blazing blue fire. She wondered if they were going to get through breakfast without ripping each other’s clothes off.