Disclaimer: These amazing characters are not mine. Please don't rub it in.

Author's Note: I had a couple of story requests in the reviews for Moving Forward, and as I thought about both ideas, I realized that in my mind, they dovetailed perfectly into this story. So thanks, Jaimie and Guest, and I hope this meets your expectations!

There are sexytimes in this chapter, but if you get uncomfortable, just skip from that point to the first section break.

The Pretender

Lisbon stood at the hotel window, looking down on the pre-dawn street below and taking in the unfamiliar view. She'd never been overseas before, and she'd never envisioned starting with Beirut. The name conjured vague images of bombs and violence, left over from her childhood in the 80s and the more recent political unrest she'd caught glimpses of when she happened to catch the international news.

But so far she hadn't encountered anything like that. Of course, she knew the city had a seamy side; they were here to catch an arms dealer, after all. But going undercover with Patrick Jane never meant grit and squalor. Like the man himself, it was first class all the way. As good an actor as he was, he'd have a hard time maintaining a role as anything but an urbane and sophisticated man.

His childhood couldn't have been like that, she knew. Jane was a self-made man, creating his persona out of necessity. Rich people only trusted people they perceived to be like them, so he had made himself one of them, the better to fleece them. And now the act was so deeply ingrained it had become his reality.

So whatever else happened, she could be assured she'd never have to go undercover as a cheap hooker. The breathtakingly expensive white silk nightgown and robe she was wearing—not to mention the rings on her left hand—were perfect for the persona Jane had created for her: a hardworking woman who'd charmed a wealthy, slightly shady man so much he'd married her. As undercover roles went, it wasn't so bad. Any discomfort she let slip could be attributed to her change in status, and it wasn't like she'd never pretended to be Jane's wife before. Though admittedly that had usually come as a surprise to her in the past. She much preferred to have plenty of warning, and she hoped this was the start of a new habit on his part.

Not that she expected to spend much time undercover. Abbott hadn't liked loaning them out to the CIA one bit. Only their contact's insistence that she would work only with Jane had brought them here.

Lisbon grimaced. Erika Flynn was bad news, every time. She had an agenda, and the fact that it included Jane made Lisbon very, very nervous. Because while Jane teased her about having a thing for violent men (which she supposed was true, since he had killed three men, one with his bare hands), his weakness was devious, dangerous women.

It made her uneasy, not just because she worried for his safety, but because of what it said about their relationship. The last word anyone would ever use to describe her was devious, so how could she be what Jane really wanted?

Was she? He said so, but Jane lied as easily as he breathed. Over the past three weeks since Islamorada, he'd taken every conceivable opportunity to have sex with her, not to mention creating a few improbable ones. But he was just coming off 12 years of celibacy, so that could be more about rediscovering pleasure than about love.

What really worried her, late at night when she woke to find him gone on his insomniac wanderings, was the idea that maybe this whole thing was another Jane plan that had blown up in his face, and now he was just faking it until he figured out what to do.

She was sure he'd meant what he said on the plane, and in the hotel before that. He hadn't wanted her to leave. He'd been desperate. And being Jane, he knew exactly what she needed to hear to stay.

But that wasn't necessarily the same as the truth. And that assumed Jane even knew the truth. He could be just as un-self-aware as the next guy sometimes, and he wasn't above lying to himself.

She had no doubt he loved her, but that didn't mean it was, or ever would be, romantic. Easy enough to exaggerate a friendly love if he needed to, right? Because he didn't want her to leave, and she didn't want to be just friends. Logical. And Jane did what needed to be done, regardless of his feelings about it.

How would she ever know if this relationship was what he truly wanted? She wouldn't. Jane could go on like this for years, possibly forever. He was a creature of habit, after all.

Unless he met a woman who truly attracted him. Then what? She was terrified she might be about to find out.

The sheets rustled behind her, and she looked over her shoulder to find a moonlit Jane sitting up, yawning and rubbing at his face. With his tousled hair and naked torso, he made her blood hum, and the smile he sent in her direction made her knees weak.

Genuine, or calculated? How could she tell?

His smile faded as he looked at her, his gaze intensifying. Belatedly, Lisbon composed her expression, but he'd seen enough to propel him out of bed and over to her. She turned back to the window, the glimpse of his full naked glory enough to derail her train of thought. She should just let him take her back to bed and drive her out of her mind. It wasn't like she was going to solve the problem by thinking about it, anyway.

Jane's arms came around her waist, and she leaned back against him, savoring his warmth—and the promising hardness against her lower back. The way he hummed a little as he kissed her neck told her he intended to have her again, even though he'd coaxed her into sex just hours ago on their arrival, telling her their cover as a honeymooning couple demanded they mess up the sheets convincingly. Numb with jetlag, she'd given in, and she hadn't regretted it. God, what this man could do with his hands and mouth.

If he ever left her, she'd pine for the rest of her life. Her body would never forget him. The thought was terrifying.

"What's the matter?" he murmured, holding her close. "Worried about the case?"

"I hate being undercover," she grumbled, hoping he'd believe that was all it was.

"Don't think of it as lying," he advised, nuzzling her hair. "Think of it as a rehearsal."

"Rehearsal?"

"A practice run, if you like." He pressed a kiss behind her ear. "To see if you like being married to me."

Lisbon sucked in a breath. He couldn't have shocked her more if he'd shot her. "You...want to...?"

"When you're ready."

As if she was the one with issues, she thought, annoyed. "You're saying you are?"

"Well." He swayed them gently back and forth. "It's a practice run for me too. We could have done this role without the married angle, although what I told Abbott is true—in a conservative culture it's easier this way. But I wanted to see..." He trailed off, resting his cheek against her head with a sigh. "I wanted to see if I could...expand the associations I have with the word 'wife.' If it would get less painful."

He was still in love with Angela, she knew. He always would be—his guilt ensured it. He felt he owed it to her, despite whatever else he might feel.

Maybe that was why he'd decided to dive into a relationship with her. It didn't require him to change or explain anything. She understood his weaknesses and his secrets, and she already knew she would always come second. What other woman would accept that?

She was his safe option, his routine, his habit. She would never be the love of his life, and she didn't excite or intrigue him the way a woman like Erika did, but he wouldn't leave her, she realized. She was, in a way, his boring old wife, still valued and loved long after the honeymoon phase was over and passion only a memory.

Only she'd never gotten to have the honeymoon.

Well, maybe this was it. Jane's hands sliding along her ribcage, teasing the undersides of her breasts with the slippery silk, were certainly suggesting sex was in her immediate future.

"What's really bothering you, Teresa?" He kept his voice low and seductive. "Meeting Erika again?"

"She's not my favorite person," she admitted.

"I didn't help her escape, you know."

Truth, or a lie to soothe her feelings? "Really? She fooled you?"

Jane chuckled against her shoulder. "I didn't say that. I knew she had a plan, and I didn't do anything to prevent it. But I wasn't an accomplice. You don't have to worry she'll lure me into one of her schemes." He deftly turned her to face him and bent his knees to look into her eyes. "You don't have to worry about her at all. Or anyone else. If you want to act jealous for your cover, feel free, but I promise you'll never have a reason to be jealous for real."

"Good," she managed to say, fighting the impulse to lose herself in his eyes and melt into him.

Jane frowned a little. "But you're reserving judgment until you have more evidence. You're such a cop, my love." He kissed her briefly. "But I suppose given my history, I can't blame you for being skeptical."

"I...I believe you won't hurt me on purpose," she offered, hoping to ease the unhappiness in his expression.

"Despite the fact that I've been guilty even of that," he sighed.

"But you have no reason to now." She didn't name Red John, because Jane hated it, but she knew he understood.

"No. And every reason not to," he said softly. Then he grinned. "I enjoy your company far too much to risk banishment from your bed."

As he squeezed her ass, she grinned back. Whatever doubts she might have about his emotional state, there was no doubt he was enjoying their physical relationship. "Nice to know I'm in control of something around here."

"More than you know," he said, nibbling on her earlobe. "You're the queen of my heart, Teresa. The single oasis in the vast desert of my life. All other women are merely mirages, temporary and insubstantial. Pleasant to look at, perhaps, but dangerous to believe in. I know better than to let myself be lured away from your life-sustaining emerald pools."

Lisbon let out something that, from a lesser woman, would have been a giggle. "I can't believe you said that with a straight face."

"You're a woman in a million, but alas, you have no appreciation for metaphor," Jane sighed, but his eyes were crinkled in amusement. "Very well, I'll confine myself to the practical. I would very much like to make love with you now. How about you brace yourself against the windowsill and let me lift your skirt from behind and—"

"In front of the window? No!" She hoped he didn't notice that her heart had sped up.

"Bed, then, if you insist. I should have expected this when you refused to join the Mile High Club," he pouted. "I hoped you'd be more adventurous after marriage."

Lisbon began pushing him gently backward toward the bed. "Mm. Well, I might have a few surprises up my sleeve. Like my handcuffs."

"Ooooh. Bad girl," he chuckled, letting her push him onto the mattress. He pouted again as she stepped out of his reach, then smiled as she slowly untied her robe and let it slip to the floor.

"I love the pretty things you picked out for me," she purred, inching the spaghetti straps down her arms. "I wouldn't want this to get messed up. Or...torn."

Jane swallowed hard. His voice was deep and gravelly as he said, "You'd better take it off, then."

"But then I might get cold," she pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest as the fabric started to slide off her breasts.

Jane's gaze was riveted to her chest, and his full erection quivered with anticipation. "I'll warm you up," he promised.

"Promise?" she asked, drawing out the word.

"Promise," he said. "You'll be sweating by the time I'm done with you."

"Well, okay then." She let the nightgown fall, then reached up to run both hands through her hair.

Jane emitted a deep groan, seemingly involuntary. "Teresa, you're killing me."

"Don't worry," she smiled. "I might make you wait a few minutes, but I won't torture you by teasing you for years on end."

He looked a little anxious. "I'm trying to make up for that."

"I know." She finally took a step forward, and he put his hands on her waist the instant she was in reach. She resisted his attempt to pull her closer, though, so he leaned forward and buried his face between her breasts, licking and kissing. She sighed happily. "Mmm. You're doing a great job, too."

He pulled back long enough to say, "Good," before fastening his mouth to her nipple.

Lisbon surrendered to the lure of mindless pleasure, letting her body dictate her actions. Jane had a way of arousing her so completely it was almost like being drunk, and before she knew it she was climbing into his lap and impaling herself on him, squirming as she adjusted to the way he filled her. He helped her arrange herself so she could move, his hands returning to her waist to guide her as she slid up and down his length.

She held his gaze, hardly able to believe this was real, that this was Jane inside her, his attention totally focused on her. His eyes were dark with desire, and his lips parted as he began to breathe harder, smiling at her lovingly and breathing her name. It was better than any fantasy she'd ever had. It always was.

She never wanted it to end.

They enjoyed their leisurely coupling for a few minutes, until Jane threw her a wicked grin and began swiveling her hips, his big hands guiding her easily, grinding her against him. Lisbon gasped in surprise and astonishment as her body responded to the new sensation, then cried out as he found a stroke that mashed his cock against her clit. A searing ecstasy shot through her like electricity, and she buried her face against his shoulder to muffle her scream as she came.

mmm

By the time she came back to herself, Jane had pulled them up to the pillows and was flat on his back, panting through the dopey post-orgasm grin he always got. "You're amazing," he told her.

Lisbon's muscles weren't cooperating with her brain, but she managed to throw an arm over his ribs. "Me?"

"You." He aimed a sloppy kiss into her hair. "Didn't know you had that in you, did you?"

"Huh uh," she sighed.

"I did," he said proudly. "Though I admit, I didn't expect you to bite me so hard. Ow, woman."

"Don't be such a baby," she yawned. As she drifted off to sleep, she decided to stop worrying and just enjoy the ride while it lasted. With Jane, things usually worked out in the end, no matter how impossible that sometimes seemed.

And though he'd run off and left her more than once, he'd always come back to her.

So far.

mmm

Jane listened to Lisbon's breathing slow as she fell back to sleep, her body warm and damp at his side, the fragrance of their combined scents making him smile. He was savoring this phase of their pair bonding, but he was aware it was scaring the crap out of Lisbon. Not only was this new territory for her, but she was well aware that she was in too deep and getting deeper with a man she couldn't fully trust. She had no way of knowing he woke every morning resolving to be there for her and hoping this wasn't the day she would realize she hadn't chosen the better man. He wouldn't break her trust again, not now that it would irreparably crack the foundation of what he intended to be their lifelong romance.

But he couldn't figure out a way to tell her he was fully committed without making her even more frightened of her own commitment. Just implying that marriage might be in their future had made her tense up. If he pushed her too hard, she would bolt, and he would probably panic and chase after her, making her feel trapped. She'd hurt them both trying to get free, and he might not be thinking clearly enough to give her the space she'd be desperate for.

He'd told her the truth about their cover story, though he'd left out his intention to send a clear "don't touch" signal to Erika, who doubtless had a role in mind for him in what was certainly a double game. Though Lisbon was struggling with their commitment, she was also a jealous soul. She believed he was susceptible to Erika's wiles, though he knew better, and she'd be watching closely for any sign he was succumbing. He needed to make sure there were none for her to find.

It wouldn't be hard. Erika had all the warmth of a cobra, and her only loyalty was to herself. Only a fool would let his guard down around her, and he was no fool. He knew what he had with his pure hearted Lisbon: the love of a brave and selfless woman who'd demonstrated countless times that she'd do anything to protect him, who knew and forgave his weaknesses, and who would never, ever betray him. That was more alluring than any illicit affair could ever hope to be.

He needed to make Lisbon understand that her honest heart and predictable nature were far more rare and valuable than mere sexiness, and that for a man who had spent his entire life surviving by deception, she was indeed an oasis in a vast desert. And she was definitely attractive to him. She was a beautiful woman, though she didn't seem to realize it, but for him she was irresistible because with her, and only her, he could be himself. It had been so long since he'd had that, he wasn't sure he still knew who that was.

But one thing he was sure of: that man belonged to Teresa Lisbon, heart and soul. And no one, particularly Erika Flynn, would change that.

He hoped time would calm Lisbon's fears, time in which he would pamper and dote on her to the extent she would permit. Including making love with her as often as he could manage, strengthening this new aspect to their relationship and binding them closer together, hopefully without making her claustrophobic. It would be a fine line to walk, but he could do it. Because failure was not an option.

He turned his face to bury his nose in her hair, breathing her in and calming himself. For once, he wasn't looking forward to the con; he wished they were safely home in Austin where they could focus on each other. But they weren't, so the best he could do was wrap things up quickly, keep a close eye on Lisbon, and prevent Erika from making trouble.

Yawning, he reflected that might be a tall order, even for him.