Acceptable Risk

Chapter 1:

Wearing a sleeveless silvery-gray cocktail dress, strappy heels, with her hair in a perfectly styled French twist, Zoe looked sleek and stylish. Everything about her exuded confidence and evoked a sense of coolness, like ice.

She personified strength and determination, someone who wasn't afraid to get their hands dirty and work. One thing he admired about her was her brutal honesty. She may always look for the angle or try to maintain the upper hand, but she meant what she said, no one ever questioned her motives.

It was a rare occasion that both John and Zoe were working at the same time in the same venue. Zoe, working the crowd of blue bloods, John keeping an eye on some spoiled rich playboy whose number had come up. John frowned slightly as he pondered the various complications surrounding the development in his and Zoe's relationship or their "not grand romance" as she put it. The nature of their work kept them apart more than not, but they made an effort to work around their responsibilities.

John struggled to define their relationship. He couldn't really describe her as his girlfriend, good grief they were both too mature for that classification. His attraction to Zoe went beyond the physical beauty. Indeed, she was beautiful, and she knew it and no doubt used it to her advantage. But it was her strength and determination that had always held his attention. She was an intelligent woman and although appeared cold and calculating, he admired her tenacity in going for what she wanted. With Zoe, there were no pretences.

Lovers? That was probably the most accurate description but he felt it was far more than the physical. There was an undercurrent of something . . . . Although her acid tongue got in the way most of the time, it was the little things she did that fed that undercurrent. Little things like bringing him lunch even though she knew he rarely ate while he was working. A subtle arm rub would greet him as she would walk by, hand him whatever she brought with her, smile her little half smile, then walk off. Once he came home to his loft and found a box filled with various mementos he had accumulated, waiting for him on his door step. It had his name on it written in Zoe's distinctive handwriting and contained one of Leila's binkies and the super hero drawing Darren McGrady made for him with the quarter that served as John's retainer, among other things. Zoe somehow knew what these had meant to him.

They weren't married, although they did play the husband and wife gig a few months back. Carter was still ticked off at him and had ripped him a new one for not warning her. John mentally threw up his hands. Who knew Zoe would just blurt out; "I'm John's wife," to Carter and rush off at the most crucial time, leaving the explanations to him and made him feel like he was guilty of something.

He had to admit that he was keeping his relationship with Zoe a secret. Harold of course had his suspicions, but surprisingly didn't push to learn more.

There was an unspoken agreement between them that they wouldn't talk about the specifics of the work they did. As much as possible they kept it separate. In all honesty, John was surprised that Zoe never asked anything about how he and Harold knew what they knew, it was as if Zoe accepted that it was part of the off limits discussion board.

He supposed that he and Zoe were just together for the moment. He wouldn't classify it as love, heck she wouldn't either, but there was a mutual respect. Like she said, a relationship didn't have to be a long term commitment to have value. And right now their relationship added value to his life. It gave him some semblance of a life. People like he and Harold, who both technically didn't exist, John mused, didn't get to have normal lives.

He felt a flutter of excitement in his belly and continued to watch her work her way towards one rich philanthropist or another smiling the half smile that didn't reach her eyes. Though the smile didn't physically change, her eyes brightened and crinkled just a tad around the eyes, when they caught John's.

I swear, doesn't he realize that the comb over went by the wayside along with spray on hair two decades ago?

Although she had already obtained what she came for, she was here at the request of a client so she was stuck until she could sneak away. Since drinking herself to oblivion wasn't in the cards, Zoe decided to entertain herself by focusing on the noggin of one James White, a ridiculously rich billionaire septuagenarian; her client had left her with. If the three follicles of hair on his sweaty pate didn't distract her from wanting to jump John's bones (he looked hot in a tux), nothing could. Sipping delicately on her wine, she pretended to hang onto Mr. White's every word while imagining different toupees on his skull.

"Wah . . . wah . . . wah . . . " Mr. White sounded like the peanuts teacher. "Wah . . . wah . . . wah . . . man in a suit . . ."

That got her attention and Zoe actually looked up to find John. She flashed him a smile when she caught his eye. He lifted his head in acknowledgement but continued to keep an eye on the millionaire lothario he was supposed to be shadowing.

Despite the fact that her companion talked non-stop for the rest of the evening, all she knew about Mr. White was that he looked the best with a Julius Caesar toupee, ala George Clooney in ER, and the worst with a mullet. Of course no one, not even John could rock the mullet.

Zoe sighed with relief when she returned to her apartment later that night. As she was locking up she was immediately accosted. Arms surrounded her and the breath hit the back of her neck. John's hands were instantly on her as he pressed firmly to her back. His lips, tongue and teeth were working the back of her neck and nipping at her earlobes. Leaning her head against the door, her breathing became uneven and her heart began to pound. Without saying a word he lifted her skirt roughly. She moaned her pleasure as she turned and dropped her purse and keys carelessly on the floor.

"Jesus, I didn't think you'd ever get home." John said as he started to rub her through her underwear.

"What happened to your target?" Zoe asked just as John was walking her backwards to the couch, kissing her and running his hands over her lower back. There was no way they were going to make it to the bedroom.

"He's back at home locked up tight . . . "

Zoe got her hands under John's tux jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. As their tongues dueled for dominance, she ran her hands down the front of his tux shirt and started to unbutton it then taking it off all together tossing it on the floor. She moved her lips down his neck as she kissed and sucked lightly. With smooth efficiency, John searched and located the hidden catch and zipper on her dress. In one swift motion he made quick work of them both, quickly moving her dress down her arms and completely off. Zoe gasped and reached her arms around his neck to pull him to her. He cupped her breast through her bra, gently rolling her nipple against his palm.

Laying her on the couch, John moved his hands under her back, unclasping her bra and pulling it down her shoulders and tossed it to the side. He leaned his head down and kissed the tops of her breasts, his tongue darting out to lick her nipples, running circles around them with both fingers and tongue, taking the time to explore her. He brought her body alive with every touch of his hands and mouth.

"My turn . . ." she whispered, hands sliding down his chest, flicking each of his nipples as he sighed. She laid claim to his body, running her hands across his back, lightly marking his skin. She kissed her way down his neck to his chest, raining soft kisses over his shoulders and down to one of his nipples, licking and kissing as he had done.

"Zoe..." he sighed.

"I want to . . . touch you, John," she whispered, dropping her hands to the waist band of his pants. Completing the task of unzipping his fly, she reached inside to liberate the organ she desperately wanted to touch. Finally able to take him into her hands, she smiled as he pulsed in her hand and began the rhythmic movement.

Groaning against her breast, he wrapped his mouth and tongue around her nipple and sucked. He brought his hands down her ribs to her hip, sliding underneath her panties to cup her, rubbing her lightly. John moved with her, his mouth never leaving her breast, his fingers still rubbing her in small circles. Zoe arched her hips against his hand. Taking her hand from him, she stilled his hand. "John," she whispers. "I don't want to come yet."

John let go of her breast and moved his head up to hers, kissing her softly. "Why not?" he asked as his finger continued to move softly over her below her hand.

Zoe shut her eyes for a moment and let out another breath. She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Because I want you with me when I do."

Then she realized something and frowned.

"Shit," she gasped. "We ran out of . . . "

He smiled and shook his head. He picked his pants up and reached into the pocket and produced a foil packet.

"You were a boy scout too?" Zoe said as she eagerly grabbed and tore open the packet then frantically set to work on the task at hand. John moaned in agony as she completed it.

Her hands slid to his back, and she pulled him down to her. Again, his lips took hers, tongue moving into her mouth as he slid inside of her slowly she held her hand against his chest for a moment. As she removed her hand, he slid further inside of her, and then was fully consumed. "John," Zoe whispered, as she rocked back against him.

As if he were afraid to hurt her, he held himself up with his arms, his hips right above hers he began to move quickly, each movement more demanding than the last. Their rhythmic movements continued until they both collapsed, sated, wrapped in each other's arms.

As they were catching their breath a phone rang.

"Yours or mine?" Zoe asked as they both dug into their respective piles of discarded clothing.

John got to his first. "Nope, not mine . . ."

Finally finding hers in her purse, she answered. "Zoe Morgan . . . What happened?" Zoe listened for a few minutes then. "I'll be right over."

As soon as she ended the call she walked to her bedroom, leaving John wondering, and re-emerged ten minutes later looking very un-Zoe like; jeans, sweater, and flat soled boots. "I have to go . . ."

"It's three in the morning do you need me to come with you?"

"No . . . I . . . have to go," John noticed that the normally unflappable Zoe appeared agitated.

He took her face in his hands and asked. "Zoe, what's going on?"

With a sad look on her face she just shook her head. "It's . . . I just have to take care of something . . . can you lock up when you leave?" She said giving him a soft kiss as she picked up her purse and keys and rushed out.

John stood watched her go, curious as to where she had to go at three in the morning. Although it was an unwritten rule that they not talk about work, this phone call Zoe just received did not appear to be work. It sounded personal.

Zoe arrived at small house half an hour later. Quietly she let herself in and immediately felt a thud as a little body jumped into her arms. Catching the little girl in her arms she hugged her close.

"Mommy, I'm so glad you're here!"