Whenever she listened to him now, it was with her heart, not so much her head, as before. When he'd cornered her, demanding that she 'play ball,' because he had her and Wozniak and the unit dead-to-rights, twisting in the wind, she'd been all fight. Ready to go at him tooth and nail when he'd made a big show of touting that he was going to be her handler, and she had better do everything, and anything, he told her, or face the maximum penalties. Like what? That was supposed to scare her, driving her down to kiss his feet? The FBI would have its way, Stahl had sworn, bent on coming down hard on this cozy set-up of crooked, compromised cops. But first, the Bureau needed clear-cut evidence that Lt. Matt Wozniak and his squad were dirty to the core. Things had gone so wrong, so fast. Worrying thoughts taxed her as never before each day. Life had its insidious way of making bad go worse in no seconds flat. Complicated, these destructive ideas argued with her, riddled her with guilt, as her heart, with increasing strength, drowned them out. She heard with her heart more often, a growing need to listen between the words of Stahl's steel-cut, cut-and-dried words.
This had been her idea, coming to his apartment for yet another talk. His riveting eyes screamed at her from across his room that was esthetically sterile, crying out for letting a good decorator make some needed stylistic changes. Stahl had seemed pleased about her wanting to meet with him here to talk, although at the time he had tried to cover his being all for it up. He'd acted as though he could take her suggestion, or leave it. Had this been wise? Harlee thought nothing of it. What was going down was crucial, and she had to make another plea, beg for the survival of her team. Without Woz, if need be, though the idea of selling out their commander stank. Her heart told her what her mind suppressed, what it didn't wish to hear, demanding she pay attention because what this tormentor in a suit was saying was important. What he said could make the difference between only one man paying for his crimes, or dragging down the entire unit.
Stahl was certain he was saying it loud enough for Harlee not to miss it.
'Come closer…closer…you know you want to…you think you know me…you don't…you think I'm doing this to make your life a nightmare...No...I'm doing this to crack down on corruption that makes all of us in law enforcement look bad...I can't promise I can make this any easier for you…but I can promise I'll protect you...if you let me…I want to...I really do...you're worth it...'
Harlee never broke eye contact, staring at him just as hard as he drilled the look he gave into her. Her heart felt ready to leap out of her chest. The harder Stahl stared, the closer she drifted over to him, like a metal object drawn to a magnet. His pull every description of magnetic. She inched to him almost sensuously, unconsciously sensuous. If she had been wearing a black, scintillating cocktail dress, she would have slinked. He'd seen her in one many times, in his dreams. Her hair, the way she wore it, the way it shimmered like a bevy of kissable waves, set his soul on fire, along with the rest of his hungers. She was a fierce woman, who knew the telling effect she had on men, choosing to capitalize on her magnetism when, and where she chose. Not the other way around. She wasn't exactly sure what she was doing with Stahl right now. Both of them seemed to have much in common with a deer caught in headlights.
After pleading, appealing to the kinder side she hoped he had, in a voice that sliced into him, to let the rest of the team off the hook, she homed in even closer. His aftershave was delicious. Practically roiling in his personal space, warming up to the idea that he might not be the enemy she thought he was at the beginning, she gave him a Mona Lisa-like smile. Beautiful in its fragility. She could tell he was as surprised as she was, her willingly wanting to be this close to him.
Harlee held her breath, as Robert studied her flawless face that was awash in bemusement. For a single, fragile moment they came close to breathing as one, holding on to it as tightly as they could. Until he judged it was time he held her. And the next moment coalesced into the next, and the next, until Robert, reading her tentativeness as indecision, made his move, striking like a cobra. He ran on pure impulse, seeking to possess the substance of his fantasies. Possessing her, even if for only this fleeting moment, welding his hand to her back to mash her lips against his. The shuddering of his body grounded him, while exciting her. He kissed Harlee hard and hungrily, relishing the feel of those saucy, silky lips, always wearing just the right shade of lipstick. Lips dripping confection that had cursed him, reamed him, that had assuredly titillated him, most of all, flush with his. And, shock of shocks; she wasn't peeling herself from his, or his unapologetic embrace. As if what she was doing was unthinkable. No, not at all. Oh, no. In fact, Harlee was returning the kiss as good as he was giving.
And giving...and giving...
When finally, they broke off, as abruptly as they'd started, cop and FBI agent shared an equally guilty look. As though two pairs of sticky-fingered hands had been caught in the cookie jar at the exact same time. Albeit, a most enjoyable time. And at the same time, they played off their lapse of propriety. They'd lived in the moment. Did they know how to spell unprofessional? Like either cared. Harlee would be the last to deny, though not openly, that this straight-laced looking man, who supposedly lived by going by the book, owned a mouth ripe for the taking. She had no words, neither did he, as she watched Stahl as carefully as he watched her. By kissing her, had he joined her side? Or, had she joined his, a hundred percent? Harlee grew more flustered as the seconds ticked off, then heard him say that he was going into the adjoining room, which she assumed was his bedroom, to call his superior.
She wasn't going anywhere near his bedroom, if that indeed was the room he was making the call in. The call that, as he promised, would keep the team out of the mess, and her too, of course. Is that why she had toyed with the idea of kissing him? To put the icing on sealing that deal? Whatever it took, she considered, giving herself a good self-scrutiny and half-smirked. She couldn't help thinking, with a little head-clearing shake of her head...
'Not as all work and no play as he looks... So...what will it take to make you drop this entire investigation and leave all of us alone? Woz too, 'cause I owe that man so much. More than you'd ever understand. He gave me my life back.'
She chided herself while thinking along less than scrupulous lines, and copped an attitude.
'Do I even like him? If I make him think so, what will it get me? As she pressed her index and middle fingers against her lips, she smiled, agreeing that the upstanding FBI man knew what to do with her lips. The rush she felt washed over her again, making her sway where she stood. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. What was all this doing to her? Turning her into what? Some who made her cringe when she looked at herself in a mirror?
When Stahl emerged from the room, looking as though he'd done her the greatest favor, she couldn't help but return his little smile. As they stood, contemplating each other, her smile grew, as he walked up to her and settled his arms around her waist to pull her in. She'd offered him a tasty tease. He had to have more. Much more. He was that straight-up junkie crashing down from his first fix. Having more pushed his buttons. Raining openness down into her now unreadable face, he nuzzled her cheek. His contented sigh found its way to her ears. "Offer still stands. Want a drink?"
This time she accepted. "Yeah."