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by LSI |
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Chapters: Prologue 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18
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Chapter Fourteen The traffic light beamed red. Sara’s gaze was trained on his left turn signal, which blinked steadily—like a flaming beacon leading her in. Soon the light would be green and Grissom would turn on the road that would take him to his house. He expected her to follow him. She asked herself again why she had agreed to this. The only answer she could come up with was curiosity. Just when she thought she had him figured out, he threw her another curve. Inviting her to his home was a momentous one. She was reminded again that there was something different about him today. The difference was subtle, but it was there. And now he wanted to give her a glimpse into his private world. She’d been surprised, and her self-preservation instinct had been to refuse. But when he insisted, her resolve had waned. Perhaps she had been too hasty in accepting his invitation. The light changed. Grissom turned without hesitation, but Sara was not as decisive. It wasn’t too late; if she kept going straight through the light, she would be on her way home…a much safer alternative. She could always call and make an excuse for the change in plans. She could— An impatient motorist honked his horn. She had to make a decision. Left or straight through? She followed her heart. GRISSOM DROPPED a stack of files on the dining room table. “Make yourself at home,” he said, heading down a hallway that Sara figured led to his bedroom. “I’ll be right back.” Sara gave him a small smile and set the computer case on the floor as she released a nervous breath. She took in her surroundings. His house hadn’t changed much since the last time she’d been there over three years ago. It looked more like a loft than a townhouse really, with large expanses of hard-wood floors, high ceilings and a humongous column connected to an island, the only visual separation between kitchen, dining area and living area. Books dominated the place. Heck, they were everywhere. Some had just been piled on the floor, probably when he ran out of shelf space, she mused. Museum-style glass cases exhibiting various species of butterflies decorated the walls. His desk, which took up a corner of the living room, was stacked with files, paper, a cup of pens and pencils, and the New York Times crossword puzzle, which he’d yet to complete. At first glance, his place looked cluttered. But upon closer inspection, she could detect order in the clutter…an interesting contradiction that Sara suspected reflected his personality. And it was very clean. She absently wondered if he used a cleaning service. She certainly wouldn’t want to have to dust the place. A book sitting atop a neatly stacked pile on the floor next to the sofa caught her eye. On the jacket, a man and a woman dressed in dark office attire were running, arm in arm, down a street, but it was the title, printed in large red letters that held her attention. ‘The Office Romance.’ Sara picked it up. At the bottom, in small white letters she read, ‘Playing with Fire without Getting Burned’. Interesting… “Admiring my clutter?” She spun round and her heart flipped-flopped when she saw him leaning casually against the wall. He’d changed into a pair of jeans and a blue T-shirt that did something to his eyes no T-shirt had a right to do to any man. She felt herself blush, as if she’d been caught snooping in his desk drawers. She wrapped her arms around her abdomen, pressing the book to her. “I…um…” Her mind was in a jumble. “I…uh…was trying to decide if it was cluttered or…extremely ordered.” He smiled and pushed himself off the wall. He closed the distance between them, looking around as if attempting to see it through her eyes. “I’m a collector…of sorts…but I’m not terribly fond of chaos.” He tipped his head and looked at her curiously. “You don’t like it.” “It’s…um…very clean.” He chuckled, a beautiful throaty sound she didn’t hear nearly often enough. It rippled through her, sending a rush of excitement to her nerve endings, and a tingle up her spine. “What’s that?” he asked, glancing at the book she still hugged tightly to herself. She handed it to him and tried to contain her amusement as a slight flush crept up his cheekbones. “Oh.” “A little light reading?” she teased. Grissom
threw her a mock-annoyed look. “Actually,
it’s a serious, updated look at workplace relationships.
The author’s a Harvard MBA and a lawyer who saw fit to address
the issue after the “And you have it because…” He shrugged. “Educational purposes…in case I have to counsel someone on my team someday.” He paused, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Would you like to borrow it?” Sara gave him a wry look, but she seized the book, which he playfully held back, resulting in a brief tug-of-war he let her win. What his place lacked for in warmth, his eyes more than made up for as he locked his gaze on hers. She told herself she should look away, but their magnetism was no less difficult to resist today than it had always been. His eyes flashed and a heavy sigh sliced the air between them, shaking her out of her quasi-hypnotic state. When he spoke, his voice had been reduced to a breathless murmur. “Breakfast first or work first?” It was a simple, multiple-choice question. All she had to do was pick one answer. It should have been easy. The only problem was that she had neither breakfast nor work on her mind at the moment. While her brain cautioned her to protect her heart, her body was pulling her in an entirely different direction. It needed him. She finally managed to pull her eyes away, taking a few seconds to come to her senses. “Sara?” She gave her head a quick shake. “Breakfast, I think…” she finally said, then glanced back questioningly. “Unless you’re not hungry.” He didn’t answer immediately. His chest was rising and falling rapidly under his T-shirt, matching Sara’s own erratic breathing. She knew he felt it too. Damn the man for being too stubbornly proud, or fearful—she didn’t know which drove him more—to see that what was between them was too powerful to ignore. “I am…very hungry.” He held her gaze a moment longer then dragged a finger across his lips and bolted for the kitchen. “How does scrambled eggs and toast sound?” “Wonderful,” she said and the moment had passed. “I’ll boot up the computer. Do you want me to set up on the dining table?” “Sure. We can eat here,” he said, indicating the breakfast bar. Sara took the laptop computer out of its case with all the peripherals, set it on the table, and after finding an electrical outlet, hit the power key. While the computer booted up, she separated the stack of folders, one for each cat, into two piles, with one—the smaller one—containing the files she’d already worked on. She picked up the book and made her way to the kitchen area, propping herself up on a stool at the breakfast bar. Grissom turned on the coffee maker and took some eggs out of the refrigerator. He was going about making breakfast with the efficiency of a man who was very comfortable in a kitchen, and it struck her how very sexy that was. She watched as he briskly whisked the eggs, adding chives and Dijon mustard to the mix, and remembered how those hands had felt on her skin, strong, sure, efficient as he’d tended to her hands and examined her ankle, then soft and tender one moment, trembling and insistent the next as they’d roamed her body, awakening her passions in a way she’d only dreamed about. “How’s the hand?” “Huh?” She looked up at him then followed his glance to the palm of her hand. She hadn’t realized she’d been staring at it. “Oh, it’s fine.” “Good.” He took a frying pan out of a bottom drawer and set it on the stove. Next came a small cutting board, a knife and a tomato, which he began slicing with patient precision. Sara took a steadying breath and picked up the book. She opened the front cover and absently perused the author’s biography on the inside flap of the jacket before turning it over to the book summary. She read it aloud. “Humph!” I wonder what Cavallo would have to say about that.” Grissom’s hands stilled on the tomato and he glanced at her tentatively. “Sara…when you looked at the tape from the news broadcast, did you view it in its entirety?” “No, I fast-forwarded to the clip of the demonstration. Why?” He
started cutting again. “There
could be more to see. Looks
like they cut some of it out of the broadcast we saw the other night.
But the station ran the entire thing on the She frowned. “What else is there?” He set the knife down. “Remember after the incident, when I...uh, tried to comfort you…” The blood left her face. “Oh, no.” “Oh, yes. Beats me how anyone would think that’s newsworthy, but…you should know that Cavallo confronted me with it this morning.” Sara was stunned into silence. When she did find her voice, all she could think of saying was, “I’m so sorry.” Grissom looked at her curiously. “It’s not your fault.” She heaved a sigh and looked away. “Was it bad?” “Not bad. As it turns out, Robert Cavallo is more enlightened than I would have given him credit for. But he felt it was his duty to remind me of the consequences of having a fling with a subordinate.” Her gaze flew to his. “You mean disciplinary action? Dismissal?” His lips curled a little. “That policy is rather outdated. Anyway, it would only be enforced in cases of sexual harassment. Cavallo was more concerned about the danger of favoritism, perceived or not, or conflict of interest or breaches of confidentiality.” “Pillow talk.” He nodded, and took out the toaster and some bread from another cupboard. He turned on the stove. “Did you, um…tell him…” She was going to say ‘about us’, but there really was no ‘us’ and she didn’t know how to label what there had almost been, or what he so vehemently denied them. So she let her voice trail off uncomfortably. “Tell him what, Sara?” he asked softly. “That we’re madly in love with each other and to hell with the consequences?” Her heart leapt to her throat, then settled back in her chest when she noticed the glint of amusement in his eyes. He was teasing her. “Don’t even joke about stuff like that.” His lips quirked and he turned to the stove, adding butter to the pan. When he spoke again, the playfulness had left his voice. “Don’t worry, I told him I have no intention of having a fling with you.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “That seemed to placate him…for now.” Her heart sank through her relief. “Oh. Well…good. I don’t want a fling with you either.” It would either be all or nothing she added to herself. He looked at her quickly then turned back to the stove. “What do you want?” “You asked me that before.” She wasn’t going down that road again, not now. Keeping her tone light, she said, “Right now, what I want is breakfast. Can I help you with anything?” He dropped the eggs in the pan. “You can take care of the toast if you like.” Sara hopped off the stool and joined him in the kitchen. After dropping two slices of bread in the toaster, she leaned against the counter and watched him stir the eggs with a wooden spoon. “So…tell me, what are some of the don’ts in this Office Romance book of yours?” He threw her a sideways glance and grinned. “Kissing you at work definitely would not have been prudent.” “That’s a given. But at work or not, you’re always my boss. Surely there are guidelines for that?” He dropped the spoon in the pan and moved closer to her, trapping her between him and the counter. Though their bodies weren’t touching, he was so close she could almost feel his heart beat. “In private,” he said softly, looking down into her face, “anything goes.” “Except divulging corporate secrets,” she countered nervously. “Except that. Coffee?” “Huh?” He reached for the cupboard behind her. “Careful,” he said gently, his left hand sneaking up to cradle the back of her head. He then opened the cupboard and leaned forward, bringing his body so close she could feel his heat seep through her. She heard the clink of the cups as he grabbed two of them with his right hand, she heard the thump as he set them down on the countertop; he moved back slightly, but didn’t release her. She looked up in confusion and the blood rushed to her head when she met his smoldering gaze. Time stopped. She couldn’t move, or breathe or think. Then, slowly, he dipped his head and his mouth closed over hers. His lips brushed hers, softly at first, lingering, tasting, and then more insistently as their breaths caught and mingled. Her hands slid up to his chest, and his arm closed around her waist, pulling her close, molding her body to his and pressing her back into the counter. Her body crashed against his arousal, her own need evident in her throbbing nipples, straining for release, and she moaned as she remembered how his mouth and his tongue had felt on her breasts. She arched into him, her need so strong, it made her heart ache. His hand fisted into her hair, and their lips parted. On a groan, he swept his tongue into her mouth, probing, exploring, then meeting hers hungrily, plunging in again and again. His hand slipped under her shirt, roamed her back then glided up her side to her breast where his thumb caressed a hardened nipple through her bra. A wave of liquid heat rushed to her core, drenching her, and blossoming into a bittersweet ache. So much pleasure…so much pleasure and so much pain… A small whimper tore from her throat, and she broke the kiss, dropping her forehead to his shoulder. Her breaths came in short, painful, spurts, her lungs burning from the effort. “I…Gris…we can’t.” His hand stilled on her breast, and for a moment, she was only aware of his erratic breathing against her ear. “Sara, please…” he rasped out, “…please don’t stop.” Sanity returned gradually, first with the toaster popping, then with the sound of the eggs sizzling in the pan. She shook her head against him, trying to regain control of her body, of her senses, as she fought down a pang of regret. She continued to cling to him, to hide in his shoulder, but emotionally she could feel herself slowly pulling away. As much as she ached for him, his rejection the other night was still smarting, and she feared the pain that would surely come if she let this happen. “Breakfast will be ruined,” she said steadily. “I don’t give a damn about breakfast,” he muttered, a hint of frustration in his voice. He dropped his hand to her waist and leaned back. When she didn’t move, he brought his hand up to her cheek, coaxing her head up. “Look at me.” She dragged her head from his shoulder and stared up at him. His eyes were still hazy with passion and burned with a dark intensity. “Sara, I…“ he started then clamped his jaw shut. He let out a long, heavy sigh, then abruptly released her and stepped away. They finished breakfast preparations in silence. Sara buttered the toast, while Grissom prepared plates of eggs and tomato slices. The eggs were a little overdone, but neither of them commented on that fact. He set the plates on the breakfast bar and poured them each a cup of coffee. During breakfast, Sara tried to break the uncomfortable silence by sharing her concerns about the case. She told him that she feared they’d never be able to prove this case even if they could narrow their short list of suspects down to one with DNA. “The latex gloves from the trash can had no trace of PCP on them. Even if DNA tells us who wore them, it still doesn’t prove they were used to drug the lion.” Grissom didn’t respond. He pushed his eggs around his plate, obviously preoccupied. He’d hardly spoken more than a handful of words since the kiss, and he’d barely touched his food. She looked at him. “Are you with me, Grissom?” He threw her a quick glance then stood and went to dump the contents of his plate in the trash can before dropping it in the sink. “They weren’t that bad,” Sara teased, polishing off the rest of her meal. She hadn’t felt much like eating either. Her stomach was still in knots, and her body still ached with unfulfilled need, but she’d forced herself, wanting to find the easy camaraderie they’d shared earlier…before the kiss. Pretending it hadn’t happened had seemed like the best thing to do. “I seem to have lost my appetite.” He looked at her. “Perhaps I should spend more time with you,” he said, removing her empty plate. “I would lose a few pounds.” It had sounded like a joke, but there was no glint of humor in his eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said anyway. A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “It’s getting late,” he said. “We should get to work.” She nodded her agreement and moved to the dining room table. She pushed the laptop to her right and practically attacked the first file. Grissom sat next to her, much too close. There were four other chairs at the table for him to choose from; she wished he’d picked another one. He slipped on his glasses. “Okay, what have you done so far?” “I set up a spreadsheet to keep count of the food and medicine that was administered to each cat. See…” She turned the laptop to face him and hit a key, bringing up the spreadsheet. “Including two leopards, Ryan owns twenty-six of them. Their last inventory was done three months ago, so it’s a lot of data to go over. With all the interruptions, and,” she looked at him and grinned, “since I have a boss who insists I don’t work on my days off, I only got through six of them.” “From what I hear, between your shopping trips to lingerie stores and dress shops you wouldn’t have had time to get much work done anyway.” Sara smiled shyly and turned away. “I hope your boyfriend appreciated the effort,” he continued, an undercurrent of hostility in his voice. She felt the blood drain from her face. “How…” But she knew. Nick of course. Grissom dropped his glasses on the table and stood abruptly, the chair tilting back dangerously as he did so. “Get started. I’ll make more coffee.” Sara watched as he opened cabinet doors and the refrigerator, and filled the carafe with water. His movements were measured and controlled, yet she sensed that underneath he was anything but. She stood, marched to the kitchen, and stood on the opposite side of the breakfast bar. “Grissom…we have to talk about this.” “No. I apologize. I shouldn’t have said that.” He threw her a quick glance and went back to filling the coffee maker with water. “We’re here to work, not discuss your sex life.” “I did not have sex with Blake,” she said vehemently. He stilled for a moment, carafe paused in mid-air. He then set it down on the burner and turned on the coffee maker. He slowly turned to face her. “It’s too late to take that back, Sara. You already told me you did.” “I told you I slept with him…and I did. We did spend the night together, but I did not have sex with him.” “Ah!” he snapped. “And on what planet is that supposed to make me feel better?” “I’m not trying to make you feel better!” she snapped right back. “No kidding,” he muttered under his breath. He snapped the lid back on the coffee tin and shoved it in the cupboard, closing the door with such force, Sara flinched. “I don’t understand you. I don’t even know why I’m explaining this to you. What business is it of yours who I sleep with anyway? Do you think that…that romp or whatever it is you call what you did on my couch the other night gives you the right to question my personal life?” His gaze narrowed on her. “I didn’t hear any complaints.” A short, harsh laugh escaped her throat. “Of course not. You didn’t stick around long enough to hear much of anything.” “Yeah, well if I’d known then that all you wanted was a quick roll in the hay, believe me, I would have stuck around.” Sara recoiled as if he’d struck her. Cold radiated from her heart and spread through her body, chilling her to the bone. She wanted to lash back, but speech required oxygen and she couldn’t find any. To her horror, her eyes filled with tears and everything blurred in front of her. “Oh, God, Sara…I didn’t mean that.” She quickly turned from him, swiping away at the tear that had trickled down her cheek. She blinked the others away. She glanced at the table, the files and the computer, untouched. She couldn’t imagine spending the next couple of hours working with him, let alone the next few years. Increasingly, she doubted whether she should continue working with him at all. Perhaps it was time to get out of Vegas. She turned off the computer and started putting it away. She didn’t hear Grissom’s approach, and flinched when he touched her arm. “Don’t touch me.” He ignored her plea and turned her around to face him. “Sara…” his gaze raked over her face and his hands closed firmly on her arms. “…please…I didn’t mean that.” “Oh, I think I know exactly what you meant.” She wriggled out of his hold and finished putting the computer peripherals in their appropriate pockets in the case. “It’s commendable really,” she said, zipping up the bag and dropping it on the table. “Most men would have taken advantage. I can always count on you to keep your head in a desperate situation.” He shook his head and threw her a puzzled look. “What are you talking about?” “Why did you leave the other night, Grissom? You figure if you had sex with me I’d want more?” He frowned. “That’s not why I left.” “Are you sure about that? It’s a pattern with you. You flirt with me…you come on to me, until I respond. Then you back off. And it starts all over again the minute you think I’ve set my sights elsewhere. This time it’s Blake. You can’t stand that your little protégé might not be swooning all over you anymore, can you Grissom?” He looked at her steadily, but frowned, his eyes pensive. She could almost hear the wheels churning in his brain. As much as she wanted him to deny it, they both knew he couldn’t. He dropped his gaze and he rubbed the back of his neck. He suddenly looked very tired and it took all her willpower not to go to him and comfort him. Recognizing her role in this game of his, she hardened her heart. “I think it’s time for me to go home,” she murmured, her own fight spent. His nod was almost imperceptible. “Leave this here. I’ll bring the files in tonight. We can finish up then.” It was obvious he’d misunderstood what she meant. Home was not in Vegas and never would be...not without him. Whether or not she’d realized it at the time, she had come here more than three years ago because of the way she felt about him, but she’d found nothing but loneliness and heartache since. And, more than ever, it was obvious she couldn’t move on as long as she stayed here. It was time to go home. She debated whether to clarify her intentions now, or wait until she’d found a job, and present it to him as a fait-accompli. On the one hand, it would serve him right to leave him high and dry, scrambling to find her replacement. On the other, it wouldn’t be fair to the rest of the team, not to mention that it would be unprofessional. “What is it, Sara?” he asked wearily, when she didn’t make a move to leave. She
swallowed past the lump in her throat, and told him what she was certain
he wanted to hear. “I
meant…home, to He blanched. “What?” “As
soon as this case is wrapped up, I’d like a few days off to go back to
His irises darkened to almost black as understanding finally came to him. “You’re threatening to quit again? Well, isn’t that just your little pattern!” he said sharply. He started pacing the room like a caged animal. She could feel his agitation and it made her nerve endings jump. He was furious, but for the life of her, Sara couldn’t understand why. He’d as much as admitted only a few days ago that he’d prefer it if she left. She quelled a new surge of anger. They both needed to cool down and discuss this like rational adults. She took a deep breath to calm her wayward emotions. “Listen, Grissom—“ He stopped pacing and faced her. “Listen to what, Sara? More of your lies?” She frowned. “What lies? I never lied to you.” “Oh, maybe not with words, but you lied to me, make no mistake about that.” It was her turn to be confused. “What are you talking about?” “I may not be in touch with my emotions, but I’m not blind. You’ve been flirting with me for years. You want me to believe that meant something to you, but I’m not stupid, so stop making me the bad guy.” “I swear I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” “You flirt with everybody,” he said, his exasperation showing. “Do you think I don’t notice it? Nick might not have fallen for it, but Greg and David did, and I almost did. And every time I turn around there’s a new guy in your life. Hank. Blake. How many others were there that I don’t even know about?” “I already told you that I’m not involved with Blake.” “No, that’s right,” he said with a deathly calm. “You only spent the night with him.” She’d tried to hold on to her temper, but he was pissing her off, and she could feel her control slip away. “Who do you think I am? Some floozy who’ll jump into bed with anybody just for the fun of it?” “What doesn’t lie, Sara?” She
hadn’t felt like hitting another human being this badly since Encouraged by the fact that she could dish it out as well as she took it, she surged through her misery, propelled by a fury so intense all common sense left her. “You want a turn, Grissom?” she asked, closing the distance between them. She flung her arms around his neck so forcefully he took a step back from the impact. He reached up, tried to loosen her arms, but she held on. She attacked his neck first, biting, sucking recklessly. “What are you doing?” “Isn’t it obvious?” She heard his sharp breath and felt his hands close around her waist. He tried to push her away, but she only pressed her body closer to his, crushing her breasts to his chest. “Damn it, Sara…” Her lips touched his mouth in a series of ardent, angry kisses. When he didn’t respond, she teased him with her tongue, and pulled at his lower lip with her teeth. “Don’t you want to take me to bed, Grissom?” Her lips were on his cheek now, hovering close to his ear. His uneven breathing and racing heart were the only indication that he was affected at all by her assault on him. “Get this out of your system? No strings…” she continued, her voice dripping with a honeyed sarcasm. “No.” He rasped out, shoving her away from him. He grasped her shoulders and stared at her. “If and when I take you to my bed, Sara, it will be to make love, not this…this—“ “This what?” she demanded angrily taking a step back. “You don’t want to make love to me, Grissom. You just do a good impression of it. When push comes to shove, you always push me away. Well I—give—up!” She turned around and started picking up the files from the table, tucking five or six at a time under her arm with nervous energy, and suddenly she stopped and laughed, shaking her head. “Well, I’m happy to see you’re finding humor in this situation,” he said dryly from behind her. She turned and looked at him, momentarily taken aback by how sad he looked. A fist closed around her heart. “Do you know how often I’ve said that where you’re concerned? I give up? Either to you, or to myself, or to Bla-ke—“ She immediately realized her mistake. Damn, she hadn’t meant to bring Blake into this. His eyes narrowed. “You discussed this with Garrison?” “Before you get all bent out of shape again, it’s not what you think. He knows…” She stopped, catching the words just in time. She spun around and picked up another small stack of files. As much as it would be liberating to tell him that she loves him, she doubted this was the right time. Someday, perhaps before she left, when her emotions weren’t this raw, she would tell him and wipe the slate clean of any more misunderstandings. “He knows what, Sara?” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “He knows that things aren’t as they should be between us. He was there the other night when—“ “Sara…let’s move on, please. I don’t want to get into this again.” “You asked,” she murmured under her breath. “I still can’t believe…” she shook her head. “Never mind.” She picked up the remaining files and tucked them under her arm with the others. A heavy, resigned sigh left Grissom’s lips. He leaned against the table, facing her. “What can’t you believe?” he asked patiently. “That after all this time, you still don’t know me. That you could believe I’d jump into bed with another man after being with you,” she said honestly. His head snapped back and he sucked in a breath. A muscle worked in his throat. He looked away. When his gaze returned to hers, she was surprised to see a sheen of tears in his eyes. “I screwed up, didn’t I?“ “Blake was there as a friend, Grissom. He spent the night, but not in my bed…we, uh, fell asleep on the couch. There was nothing romantic or sexual about it.” He swallowed. “Thank you for telling me. I apologize…for not trusting you. But that’s not what I meant by screwing up.” Sara looked at him quizzically. The intensity in his gaze disturbed her deeply. “This past year, I’ve been withdrawn.” He smiled wryly. “Well…more withdrawn than usual. I know I was a jerk…to you especially. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me someday. You’re the last person on this earth I want to hurt, but…” he shrugged. “Unfortunately, I seem to have a knack for it. I’m sorry.” “What’s done is done,” she said with a lightness she was far from feeling. She picked up the computer case and gave him a brief smile. “I’ll get over it.” “Sara…” he said, just as she took a few steps toward the door, “I don’t want you to leave.”
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