Lucky and Claire: Having It All
As Lucky was pushing a straw through the hole in Jake's juice box, a shadow fell across him, and he momentarily looked up. "Do you mind if I join you, Detective Spencer? I promise you, no meltdowns this time." Claire Walsh was standing above him, ineffectively shading her eyes against the sun. Handing the juice to the waiting Jake, Lucky answered, "Ms. Walsh. Of course, no problem. Have a seat. And you really don't have to keep apologizing for your 'little meltdown,' as you call it. It was nice, seeing that side of you—I don't imagine you show it often. Very endearing, actually. And I thought we agreed that you'd call me Lucky." Claire sat down on the park bench next to him. "Please, call me Claire. You're right—I don't show that side of myself to many people. I try not to show it to me. In my line of work, being soft isn't an asset. Vulnerability is a no-no." "Yeah, I get that," Lucky responded. "I suppose it's the same in my line of work. Showing weakness can get you killed, or at the least, badly hurt."
"Yet here you are, laughing and playing with your kids in the park, a public place."
"I don't mind my children seeing this side of me. I never want them to doubt my love for them, and I want them to always feel safe with me. If that means getting down in the grass with them, spending time with them—well, I don't care who sees that. Were you looking for me specifically? What brings you out to the park?"
"No, I wasn't looking for you specifically; I just needed to get out of my office for a while. I love my job, I really do, but there are some days when I feel like literally banging my head against a wall. That's when I step away from it. The park is a nice place to take a break." "Anything I can help you with, or is 'whatever it is' above my pay grade?"
"I was just trying to make some headway with the Michael Corinthos case. Making calls, calling in favors. Nothing seems to be working right now."
"I hope you know that his family appreciates any efforts or progress you make on his behalf. Thank you for not giving up."
"Oh, that's right—you're related to him somehow, aren't you?"
"Yes, he's my second cousin on my father's side."
"Must make life interesting, being related to half the town," Claire said, half-jokingly.
"Well, I wouldn't say half, but Port Charles isn't exactly New York City. We're a pretty tight-knit town. Everyone knows everyone else, it seems." Silence fell as they watched Cam and Jake playing together in the grass, rolling a ball back and forth to one another.
"They are too cute. You are so lucky. Oh no," Claire groaned as she realized what she'd said. "You must get that a lot."
"What, the play on my name? I'm used to it by now."
"Is your name really 'Lucky'? How did you come to be named 'Lucky'?"
"My given name is Lucas. I was named for my father, but there is only one Luke Spencer. I've been called 'Lucky' so long that sometimes I forget it isn't my birth name."
"Lucas, huh?" she asked, smiling at him. "You don't look like a Lucas." They were both suddenly distracted when the ball the boys were playing with bounced in front of them. Simultaneously, Claire and Lucky reached for the ball as Cam yelled, "Daddy! Throw it back!" There was a moment of awareness between them as their hands touched. They held each other's gazes before Claire asked, "May I?" "Sure," replied Lucky, "knock yourself out." "Here you go, sweetie," Claire called out to Cam before rolling the ball in his direction. She laughed delightedly as he unsuccessfully tried to catch it, watching it roll past him. "Too cute," she said again. "Well, I suppose I'd better get back to it," Claire sighed, rising from the park bench, still looking at Cameron and Jake. "Thanks for sharing your kids with me, however briefly." "You're welcome—any time," Lucky said. He watched her walk away with an interested eye, admiring her slim figure in her professional business suit. "Not bad. Not bad at all," he said to himself.
"Get your head back in the game," Claire reminded herself for what felt like the millionth time after returning to her office. "You didn't come to Port Charles to get a man, you came to put Sonny Corinthos in prison. So what if that man is adorable. So what if that man loves his children. So what if that man looks adorable while loving his children. Aggh!" Claire was exasperated with herself. "Enough!" she exclaimed as she reached to answer her ringing phone. Even as she began listening to the voice on the other end, however, she couldn't get the image of Lucky Spencer joyfully watching his children out of her mind.
"Ok, this is what I'm thinkin', said Johnny Zacchara after Claire agreed to meet him at his garage. "I already got a couple of Sonny's 'business associates' to leave Sonny and join me. He's pretty pissed about that. It ain't gonna take much to push him over the edge. He's expectin' a shipment comin' through his territory in a couple of weeks, max. I'm expectin' a shipment of my own. A few thou changes hands, and my shipment becomes his. You Feds bust in, seize the contraband, arrest Sonny. I'll create a problem that he'll want to deal with personally, so he'll come to the docks to receive the shipment, show he's still in control, even without Jason. He can deny all he wants, but it'll be HIS name on the manifests, and the new crates will be seen being unloaded off his ship. There are a few people still loyal to the Zaccharas. I can totally make this happen." "What you're describing, Mr. Zacchara," said Claire, "is entrapment, and it's illegal. As a matter of fact, this whole conversation is improper." Her curiosity aroused, she asked him, "What sort of contraband are we talking about?"
"Drugs, guns, what do you care? As long as he gets caught receiving it."
"I just want to make sure I understand what you're trying to involve me in. What makes you so sure that I won't turn YOU in for this little plot of yours? Or that I'll even have anything to do with it?"
"You've had a hard-on for Sonny Corinthos since before you got to Port Charles—I'm not the one you want, he is. His trial made you look kind of foolish, tarnished your shine a bit. You want your own back just for that. And impropriety? Illegality? Don't forget, Ms. Walsh, that it was you who suggested I speak to Lisa Niles. You who told me she was the lone hold out, holdin' up a guilty verdict for Sonny. I think that's called 'jury tamperin'. Don't try to act lily-white with me—it won't wash."
"Suddenly, I don't think I can trust you, Mr. Zacchara," Claire said, mentally kicking herself for giving John Zacchara this hold over her.
"Look, you want what you want, I want what I want. Right now, that happens to be the same thing—Sonny behind bars, and outta commission. We can work together, or keep gettin' in each other's way. Up to you."
"Let me think about it. I'll get back to you."
"Sooner rather than later. A score like this takes time to set up if it's comin' off without a hitch." "I said I'd think about it. That's all you get right now." She stormed out of Johnny's garage, muttering under her breath about cockamamie schemes. She couldn't believe she'd left herself open to potential blackmail by John Zacchara, and now she was thinking about joining forces with him. She needed a "second opinion" from someone who was a bit more objective than she was, and who knew the players in this game a bit better. She suddenly brightened—she knew just who to ask.
Johnny smirked as he picked up the phone to put his plans in motion. Things were finally looking up.
Elizabeth was feeling some irritation as she realized that once again, she'd lost Lucky's attention. She'd asked him to the Metro Court to talk about making arrangements for the boys for the weekend, hoping that they could share a meal together while they discussed Cam and Jake. Lucky quickly disabused her of that notion when he said, "I've already eaten, Elizabeth. I'm still not sure why we couldn't have had this discussion over the phone. Is something about our usual arrangement changing?"
"I thought it would be nice if we could talk in a neutral place and get a bite to eat at the same time." Lucky had seemed so distant as he reluctantly agreed to meet her at the Metro Court. And now, he wasn't even listening to what she was saying. "Lucky!" she exclaimed, annoyed. Lucky's eyes had drifted from hers to the other side of the dining room for the second time. "You're ignoring me again! What is so fascinating over there…" Elizabeth's voice broke off as she turned to see what was holding Lucky's attention, her eyes lighting on Claire Walsh sipping a glass of wine, frowning as she tapped into her laptop. "Claire Walsh, Lucky? Really?" she asked, a hint of jealousy in her tone.
"What?" Lucky responded. "I'm not ignoring you—I heard every word you said. You want me to pick the boys up at your grandmother's house instead of yours because you'll be working late on Friday. That won't be a problem. You want me to drop them off at the hospital on Sunday afternoon, and you'll take them from there back home. Got it. Anything else?"
"No, since you're obviously in a hurry to be away. There's nothing else."
"Ok," he said as he rose from the table. "I'll see you later, then." He had a faint smile on his face as he walked toward Claire's table, somehow finding that frown of hers oddly enchanting. Elizabeth, who was eyeing him half ruefully, half angrily, was already forgotten.
Claire looked up as Lucky approached her table, a wide grin breaking out on her face before she could stop it. "Hmm, interesting," thought Lucky. "Is she that glad to see me?" "Detective Spencer—Lucky. Hi! I was just thinking about you!" He cocked his head to the side as his eyebrows raised questioningly. "No! I mean, yes, I was thinking about you, but only because I think I found something that might help Michael, and I wanted to run it by you, see what you thought, make sure it's a worthwhile undertaking. I still need to work out a couple of kinks—do you think we could meet in my office on Monday?"
"Sure, I can do that. Anything to help Michael. Can you give me a hint?"
"I'd rather not, in case it doesn't quite pan out, but if it does, I think you'll be impressed." "Something tells me, Ms. Walsh, that you impressing me won't be very difficult. Monday it is." He'd walked away from the table and left the hotel before Claire realized he'd been flirting with her. "Duh," she thought to herself, wishing she'd said something clever in response. "I really do have to sharpen my social skills."
"After the week I've had," Claire thought as she entered Kelly's Diner on Sunday afternoon, "I deserve a caloric binge. A huge burger. Greasy fries. And a double chocolate milkshake. Definitely a double chocolate milkshake." She was pleasantly surprised to find Lucky sitting with his boys at a table, already sharing what looked like a meal similar to the one she was planning to enjoy. "Hello, Lucky! Hello"—here she trailed off, pointing in Cam's direction. "Cameron—Cam," Lucky reminded her. "And Jake."
"Right, Cam and Jake. I won't forget again. How are you boys doing? Are you enjoying your lunch?"
"I am," Cam piped up. "It's my favorite." Jake just smiled up at her, enchanting her further.
"I wasn't expecting to find you here—I was looking for some comfort food, and one of the mailclerks in my office building suggested I try Kelly's."
"My father and my aunt own this diner so I've spent many days here, and have some great memories. I want to extend the tradition with my boys; maybe one day, this will be their hangout, too. Would you care to join us?"
"Are you sure I wouldn't be intruding on your father bonding time?"
"Not at all—I think my boys can share my attention for a while, can't you, boys?"
"Yes," they both said, not really sure what they were agreeing to, but ever eager to please their father. Claire sat down, giving her order to the waitress as she began shrugging out of her light jacket. "Here, let me help you," Lucky said, rising to give assistance by holding the sleeves back out of her way. "Thank you," Claire responded, trying valiantly not to blush. "I'm surprised you let me help you," Lucky said, amused at her embarrassment.
"Why?"
"You strike me as one of those women who'd rather fall over backwards than allow a man to help you with anything."
"I appreciate chivalry as much as the next woman," Claire said indignantly. "But I don't always need a man's help—some things I prefer to do for myself."
"I meant no offense, so please don't take any. I think strong, independent women are great. I just wasn't sure I should offer to help you, but I am a gentleman—I couldn't help myself." They smiled at each other, and Claire inhaled gratefully as her meal arrived. "Oh, this is perfect—exactly what I needed," she said, tucking into the food with undisguised hunger.
"Why are you in need of comfort food? Still feeling stress over Michael's situation? Or has another difficult case crossed your desk?"
"I'm thinking about a lot of things: Michael, Sonny Corinthos, the Mob influence in Port Charles, and in New York—how to stop it. How far is too far?"
"I'm sorry; I'm not sure I understand the question."
"That's my dilemma—how far is too far to go to end something bad or evil?"
"Well, I think if you have to cross a line to end something…" Lucky broke off to gather his thoughts. He went on, "Two wrongs never make a right. If you do wrong to stop wrong, you become a part of the evil you're trying to end. Does that make sense?"
"I understand what you're saying, and a long time ago, I would have wholeheartedly agreed with you, but things change." She waved a french fry in his direction as she continued, "The criminal element has gotten smarter, less repentant. Confessions are harder to come by. Actually catching people in the act seems to be the only way to get convictions these days. Sometimes it seems that we have to play their games to stop them."
"I'm just not sure I agree with that," Lucky responded. Claire took a breath intending to argue her point, and Lucky raised a hand. "It's not that I think you're totally wrong. What I mean is that when you have to fudge the lines to catch the bad guys, how do you separate yourself from the criminal at that point? There has to be a legal way to achieve your ends."
"Define 'legal,'" Claire countered.
"I don't know—legal. That's more your scope than mine." Claire stared at him for a moment. "You really are quite the Boy Scout, aren't you? You never bend the rules, fudge the lines?" For some reason, Lucky was stung by her impression of him. "I understand the temptation to 'make something happen' to get a conviction. I may even have given in a time or two. I'm not perfect by any means, Claire. I just try to work within the system I claim to believe in." Jake began fidgeting before jumping down from his chair to tug on Lucky's pant leg. "Daddy, I don't feel so good," he whispered urgently.
"Ok, little guy. You probably overdid it on the milkshake. It's almost time to drop you both off with your mama anyway. Let's get your jacket back on. Cam, are you finished with your lunch? You need to put your jacket on, too." Claire watched him as he put the boys in their jackets, smiling at his patience.
"I do love watching you with them," she said unguardedly, utterly embarrassed when she realized she'd spoken aloud. Lucky was a bit flustered himself as he took in the tone of her words. "Thanks. So I guess I'll see you later?"
"Later?"
"On Monday. You asked me to stop by your office…"
"Oh, yes, of course. Monday. I'll see you then." Claire couldn't believe she'd forgotten. Where WAS her mind around this man?
"Say 'goodbye' to Ms. Walsh, guys." "'Bye," both boys intoned. Lucky ushered Cam and Jake out of Kelly's, his mind working overtime. When he turned to look back at Claire, she was looking at him, watching as he led the boys from the diner.
"Lucky Spencer. Come in. Yours is a face I don't often see darken my door. Have a seat. How can I help you?" Jasper Jacks was curious to know why his soon-to-be-ex-wife's cousin had traveled to his offices. They rarely operated in the same circles.
"Jax—thanks for agreeing to see me. I know you were wondering why I asked to see you. I had some questions about someone, and I thought, given the circumstances, that you would be the best person to ask."
"Oh, ok, shoot."
"What do you know about Claire Walsh? I mean, since you are the one who brought her to Port Charles in the first place—I figured you might have the inside track…"
"Well, first of all, her being here isn't entirely my doing. I made a few phone calls to a friend at the Department of Justice, who, when I mentioned I was looking for someone tenacious to prosecute Sonny, recommended Claire Walsh. At the same time, however, she was doing what she could behind the scenes to get the case assigned to her. If I'm not mistaken, she blackmailed the previous DA to get him to step aside. She's focused, single-minded, driven."
"Blackmail? You know that for sure—that she blackmailed a colleague for the chance to prosecute Sonny's case?" This disturbed Lucky, though he couldn't exactly say why it bothered him.
"Well, Lucky, from what I know of Claire, she's basically honest, but she's not above bending or tweaking a rule or two for the greater good."
"And her honesty is why you didn't tell her that it was Michael, and not Sonny, who killed Claudia Zacchara?"
"Exactly. I wanted her focused solely on Sonny. On the other hand, she's spoken to both Jason and Sonny; making deals with them without benefit of counsel—like I said, she does what she must to win. Her record is impeccable. Why the questions?"
Lucky thought for a moment on how best to phrase his response. "She told me she wanted to discuss some ideas with me about getting Michael released from prison. Dante and I have been racking our brains trying to find a legal way to make that happen, with no success. I was wondering what she knew, or was willing to do, that we hadn't already tried. She intrigues me…" Here his voice trailed off as he became lost in his musings.
"Really. Intrigues you? Personally or professionally?" Jax asked with a knowing smile. "Professionally, of course," Lucky responded, snapping back to the present. "Jax," he went on, "thanks for your time. I appreciate the insight."
"No problem—whatever I can do," said Jax, rising to his feet and shaking Lucky's outstretched hand.
"Blackmail, huh? Hmm." Lucky still couldn't pinpoint exactly why her willingness to resort to blackmail bothered him. But maybe it did fit what he was beginning to learn about her…
Lucky stared at Claire incredulously before looking around her office to get his bearings. "Yes," he thought, "I AM in Claire Walsh's office. I AM in the office of a federal prosecutor. Those really are her plaques on the wall—she really is an attorney." Aloud, he said as he leaned toward her, "Let me see if I'm understanding you right. You think it might be a good idea to get Sonny off the streets for good, which will open the door for certain senators and other people of influence to work harder to get Michael released from prison. You think the best way to accomplish this is to catch Sonny receiving a shipment of contraband. A shipment that, by the way, he knows nothing about, because it isn't really HIS shipment, it's John Zacchara's. Which brings me to the next impossible point—he brought this to you, and you are actually contemplating doing it. You want Sonny so badly that you're willing to enter an unholy alliance with John Zacchara. Incredible. I'm sitting here looking at you, and you look sane… Are you testing me or something? There is no way we're having a real conversation here."
"Look, Lucky, no one wants to help with Michael's case because of Sonny. He is the stumblingblock. With him out of the way, all kinds of doors open suddenly to help Michael. If I can get Sonny Corinthos convicted of trafficking, that's just a bonus at this point. This is about Michael—getting him released, and righting a wrong that never should have occurred. This is about getting an innocent boy"—Lucky broke in, "He's not entirely innocent—he DID kill Claudia, and help cover it up." "Fine. I'll concede that point. But he acted in defense of his mother and sister, and that deserved more consideration than Judge Carroll gave it. He was angry with the adult players, and he punished Michael for their actions. His parents' actions. His uncle's actions. Law enforcement's actions. Dante Falconeri's, and even yours. I would think you would be jumping through hoops to help me see this through—to secure Michael's release. You told me before that you and his family appreciated anything I could do to help Michael. Anything. But maybe you don't want to ruin your Boy Scout uniform. Maybe you don't feel any remorse at his situation . Maybe you don't think you did anything wrong here!" Her "Boy Scout" analogy again touched a sore point with Lucky, and he quickly leapt to his feet suddenly incensed.
"Hey, a lot of us bear responsibility for what happened with Michael! And you—you're not exactly an innocent, are you?" A twinge of guilt arose within her. There was no way he could know about her inappropriate jury tampering with John Zacchara? Her ire increased at his implication that she was somehow complicit in Michael's sentencing, and she jumped angrily to HER feet. "Now look here, Detective Spencer, I don't appreciate the suggestion that I'm guilty of any wrongdoing in the unfortunate circumstances surrounding Michael Corinthos! I was duped, led to believe an untruth and things snowballed! I resent you implying that I did anything illegal! Why don't you take your insinuations and innuendos, your 'shame on you' attitude, and get out of my office?" Claire stormed over to the door, reaching for the handle intending to throw Lucky out, not realizing that he was right on her heels. Even as she was jerking the door open, Lucky reached out, slamming it closed. He was standing so closely behind her that she could feel the heat of his body as he trapped her against the door.
"Why so hostile, CLAIRE?" he asked sarcastically. "'Detective Spencer'? A little while ago, you called me 'Lucky', now I'm 'Detective Spencer' again? What nerve did I touch? What HAVE you been up to?"
"I haven't been 'up to' anything and I suggest you back up—if you're trying to intimidate me, it's not working."
"I wouldn't dream of trying to frighten or intimidate you in any way; still, you are shaking. Why is that?" He leaned forward aggressively, crowding her further to whisper in her ear, "Are you sure I'm not getting to you, even a little bit? Who are you really mad at—me or yourself? I'd like to know where this sudden attitude is coming from."
"There is no 'sudden attitude'. Please back up."
"You can tell me to go screw myself if I'm wrong, if I've totally misread you, but I don't think you want me to back up. I don't think you'd mind if I"—he placed his hand on her waist. His left hand was still firmly pressed against the door, holding it shut. Her breathing accelerated. "You're very presumptuous, aren't you?"
"You think THAT'S presumptuous?" He slid his hand down the side of her uptight business skirt, down to the edge, rubbing the hem briefly between thumb and forefinger, teasing her. They both held their breaths as he touched her leg through her nylon stockings. Lucky lightly teased her, testing her response before placing his whole hand on her leg. "Nothing to say?" he asked her. Claire continued breathing heavily, but she didn't reply. Her skirt rose higher as he slowly moved his hand up her thigh. He paused when his hand encountered her garter belt. "Why, Ms. Walsh, you DO have hidden depths, don't you?" He stroked his longest finger in between the strap connecting the garter to her nylons and her skin, inching higher and higher with each stroke. Claire made no move to stop him. Realizing this, Lucky leaned fully against her, rubbing his face in her hair, inhaling its sweet scent. "You smell like vanilla spice—very feminine. I like it." "It's my shampoo. And why shouldn't I smell feminine—I'm a woman…"
"Yeah, I think I noticed that," he said, leaning into her, letting her feel how aroused he was. "Speak now or forever hold it," he went on. When she didn't protest, he moved his finger to the crotch of her panties, which were dampening by the moment. Finally, Claire released a trembling breath, leaning her head against the door. Her heart was beating madly while she waited to see what he would do next. He teasingly stroked his finger back and forth against her before pausing at the edge of her panties. Taking the plunge, he slid his fingers underneath, touching her trimmed bush before stroking more deeply. She was wet. "You're definitely not indifferent to me—good to know," he said softly in her ear. He made a move to probe further when the phone rang, startling them both. "I suppose I should stop, and let you answer that," Lucky whispered, feeling a sense of disappointment. "Please," responded Claire. "Looks like you've been saved by the bell," Lucky said, before removing his weight from her and watching her walk unsteadily to her desk to answer the phone. They stared at each other for a moment before she took a deep breath, and said "Claire Walsh" into the phone. Lucky, still scenting her fragrance on his fingers, reluctantly left her office.
The moment in the day that Lucky was dreading finally arrived when Claire approached his desk in the squad room. She glanced at Dante, who was looking questioningly back and forth between them. "Detective Spencer, may I speak to you privately?" "Sure. Let's go into the interrogation room—no one's using it right now." Dante gave Lucky a "what's she want?" look that Lucky didn't know how to return. He shrugged his shoulders as he followed Claire into the interrogation room. He was already saying, "Look, I'm so sorry," even as Claire was saying, "I feel like an absolute fool…" Lucky paused before adding, "Please, you first." Claire took a deep breath before explaining, "I still think it's a good idea, but I was wrong to compromise you. I was wrong to imply that you weren't willing to help your cousin because you didn't like the set up. I was wrong to try to involve you in something that could be construed as illegal if it ever came out. I was a little embarrassed because I thought you'd be so impressed… I'm so sorry, Lucky."
"Listen, I know you're frustrated, Claire. You must be, to consider working with John Zacchara. I think it's a bad idea, but I applaud your willingness to help Michael by any means necessary. I never meant to imply that you had anything to do with Judge Carroll's ruling. I'm sorry I got so angry. I regret my actions afterward. I disrespected you, something I never meant to do. I am sorry."
"You regret"—Claire was strangely a bit hurt by this.
"Don't get me wrong," Lucky answered. "You pissed me off, and initially when I had you against the door, I wanted to rip you a new one. At least, that's what I thought I wanted. Then I got close to you, and all I wanted to do was touch you." He closed his eyes as he remembered how she'd smelled, how soft she'd been. "I feel like I put my hands on you without permission, and that is not who I am. That's what I regret."
"I didn't exactly try to stop you. I think you know that I'm attracted to you, Lucky. I may not have appreciated the circumstances, but I didn't mind the outcome." They eyed each other for a moment.
"I'm not the best cook in the world, but I order a mean takeout. Would you like to join me for dinner tonight?"
Claire nodded, a slow smile spreading across her face. "I would love that."
"Seven, seven-thirty?"
"Sounds great. I look forward to it." She was still smiling broadly as she left the PCPD. Dante looked at Lucky when he returned to his desk. "So what did the Dragon Lady want?" he asked. "She's not so bad," Lucky told Dante. "It looks like I have a date with her tonight." "You must have a death wish," Dante laughed. Lucky was still remembering his body pressed against hers. "That kind of death, I can embrace."
Claire was nervous. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gone out on a date. Her career kept her very busy—prosecuting criminals was more than a job, it was a calling, and highly time-consuming. She wanted a family some day, but who had time to make it happen? She met very few men who were interested in her brand of driven intensity. She had fussed for at least an hour and a half trying to decide what to wear tonight. And now she was standing on the threshold of Lucky Spencer's apartment, dying to knock on the door, yet afraid to do so. "Come on, Claire," she chided herself, "you don't run from a challenge, no matter what form it comes in." Taking a deep breath, she gathered up her courage and gave the door three sharp knocks. It took a moment before Lucky answered the door, saying, "Claire. Right on time. Please, come in." He was freshly showered and his hair was still damp and laying to the side. He was casually dressed in a black long-sleeved v-neck sweater, which brought out the color of his blue eyes, and blue jeans. And he smelled so good… He looked at her with a puzzled expression on his face, and she realized that she hadn't said a word since she'd entered the apartment. "Everything ok?" he asked. "Yes, thank you. Of course it is. I'm just so nervous! I have no idea why! I think it took me forever to knock on your door. I think this whole afternoon took forever! And then I couldn't figure out what to wear, and traffic getting here was atrocious, and please stop me, because I'm babbling!" She laughed nervously. "Relax," Lucky replied. "Let me take your jacket. We're just two friends getting together for a meal. No pressure. And whatever time it took for you to decide what to wear was time well spent. You look great. Have a seat. Would you like a glass of wine?"
"Yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you. I love your place. I don't think I told you that the last time I was here. It's very red. Very funky. I mean funky in the good way…"
"Honestly," Lucky said from the front closet as he hung up her jacket, "I knew what you meant. Thank you. It feels like 'me'. It's starting to feel like home, too." There was something low and bluesy playing in the background. Lucky went into the kitchen and returned to the room with one glass of red wine, one of club soda. He handed the wine to her. Claire began to notice the musical theme of the front room. She pointed to the guitars on and against the walls, and as Lucky sat down she asked, "Are those for show, or do you play?"
"I dabble. I can play, but I don't do it nearly as often as I used to. Life seems to consume all of my playing time these days. Either I'm out on a case, or I have the boys—something always seems to come up. When I'm feeling particularly stressed out, though, I usually make time to strum a few chords. Mellows me out faster than anything else. Do you like the blues?"
"I've been known to listen to it a time or two, but it's not something I normally choose for myself. I'm more of a jazz type."
"I have a pretty decent jazz collection, too, but lately, I've been playing the blues more. I guess my music choices depend on my mood."
"Oh, I can understand that." She took a sip of her wine. "Which would you rather be—a musician or a cop?"
"In a perfect world? That's a tough one. I like the idea of making music . I like the joy that a well-written verse can bring to other people. Music is universal, and it crosses boundaries of language, culture. It speaks to me on a deep level. On the other hand, I traveled the world when I was a kid, with my parents. I've seen a lot of things. Pain, horror, evil—it exists everywhere. I like to think that in my own small way, I'm doing what I can to stem the tide of darkness. I think that's why I became a cop. To try to give something back, to help people in times of need. I don't know. I want my sons to grow up in a better world, and so I try to make that possible." He laughed self-consciously. "Not that I think I'm Batman or anything. How about you? What makes you a driven prosecutor?"
"Oh, I'm an over-achiever from a long line of over-achievers. I was the kid on the playground who was slick enough to make the bullies tell on themselves, using smarts and reverse psychology. It seemed like a natural fit. As I began pursuing law, I saw what men do to one another. How they get away with things. Bad things. Something about that really ticks me off. But the more involved I became in the system, the more I saw how hard it is to stay pure and still put the bad guys away. They have a set of rules that it seems like the law can't touch. I guess that's how I got sucked in to this deal with John Zacchara, not that I want to rehash that again." She sighed.
"I understand. Trust me, Claire, I do understand. Oh, hey, what do you want to eat? I didn't want to order without your input. What's your pleasure?"
"Do you have a good Mexican restaurant around here?"
"Yeah, El Gordolito's has good food, although I've never seen anyone eat Mexican food with wine…"
"I'll chance it," Claire replied. "I don't think it's a good idea to mix beer and wine. Order whatever you think I would like. Surprise me; I'm easy. Umm, when it comes to food, I mean." Lucky laughed as he placed the order. "They're usually pretty quick—twenty-five minutes, tops. They're not that far away, so we won't have long to wait."
A third glass of wine was loosening Claire's tongue, and after they'd finished their meal, they moved the conversation back to the couch in the living room. She asked Lucky the question that had been burning in her mind since their confrontation in her office. "Tell me, if you don't mind me asking. Why does the idea of being called a "Boy Scout" make you so angry?" He laughed, a bit surprised by the question. "Hmm. I guess the simplest answer is that my ex-wife, Elizabeth, seemed to think I was a 'goody-two-shoes' type, too. She seems to go for the 'danger is my middle name' guys, and she obviously didn't think that was me. I was her safe choice, the dependable one. I was the guy she could come back to after she finished screwing around. Cameron isn't my biological son, but I love him as if he was, and Jake"—Lucky broke off as he realized just how relaxed he was, and how he almost slipped up. "Well, let's just say Jake was supposed to put us back on track as a family. We both made some horrible mistakes with each other, but we'd, I thought, decided to make a fresh start, get remarried, have a stable home for the boys. Then this thing with Nikolas popped up. That was a deal-breaker for me. I love my brother, but I no longer trust him. I love Elizabeth, but that killed whatever longing I had for her. Now it's all about the boys for me, although for some reason, she wants me back again. The same sick cycle, over and over."
"Of course she wants you back! What's not to want? A good man who loves his kids, actually wants to be a father, doesn't run at the idea of being a husband? She was crazy to let you go! I know I would regret letting you go." Lucky blushed at the complement, ducking his head down, trying to keep from laughing. If he wasn't mistaken, Ms. Walsh was well on the way to being tipsy.
"Thank you for saying that. I appreciate it. I just wanted to do right by my family."
"You're a good man, Lucas Spencer," Claire said deliberately. "Don't let anybody tell you differnet. Different. You have the bluest eyes…" She gasped. "Please tell me I did not say that out loud. I think this last glass of wine maybe was a mistake. Is it hot in here, or is it me?" She looked at him with this sweetly goofy grin on her face, and suddenly, everything in him was urging him to kiss her. He reached out slowly, touching her hair, giving her time to stop him. Her eyes widened and she licked her lips, but she didn't push him away. He slid his hand from her hair to her neck, gently pulling her toward him. His eyes closed as the scent of vanilla spice hit his nostrils seconds before his lips touched hers. Softly, tentatively they kissed each other. He drew back, and they looked into one another's eyes before he placed both hands on her head, leaning into her, kissing her more fully. His lips teased hers open, allowing him to deepen the embrace. He slid his tongue into her mouth and she moaned aloud. She clutched his sweater for support because the combination of the wine and his kisses were making her light-headed. They both began breathing heavily as the kiss intensified and deepened. Lucky broke off and started kissing her neck, dropping drugging kisses on her skin. "What's happening here?" Claire asked. "Whatever you want. Nothing more," Lucky replied. "Do you want me to stop?"
"No. God, no. Don't stop." Lucky leaned her back onto the couch, following her down, still kissing her neck, the side of her face, her ear. Before he realized it, they were both fully lying on the couch. He was so aroused that he felt like his skin was on fire. Claire reached up and gripped his hair, pulling his lips back to hers for another drugging kiss. She ran her hand down his back, down to his ass, clutching it tightly. He broke off the kiss abruptly saying, "Claire, Claire, wait. Listen. I want you. You've got to know how much I want you, but you've been drinking, and I don't want to take unfair advantage. I don't want us to do something we'll both regret later. If you want to stop, now is the time to say so."
"What do YOU want?"
Lucky groaned. "That's not a fair question—don't ask me that."
"I want you, too. For once, I just want to feel. I just want to do. I'll think about the rest later." "If you're sure, then come with me."
"Where?" Claire asked.
"To my bedroom—I need more space and I'm sure as hell not taking you on the couch."
Lucky watched Claire as she paced back and forth nervously. "Claire, we don't have to do this. It's ok if you want to change your mind."
"I don't want to change my mind—it's just been a long time since I've done this, Lucky. I mean, a LONG time. I AM on the Pill, but still…"
He smiled and sat down on the edge of the king-sized bed before patting the mattress. "Come. Sit down. It's been a while for me, too, but I think it's like riding a bike. Some things you just don't forget. We'll take it as slow as we need to. By the numbers."
"The numbers?" Claire asked, sitting on the bed beside him. "What do you mean, the numbers?" "Remember when you were a kid and you had those 'connect the dots' books that, if you followed the numbers correctly, ended up making a recognizable shape? Two follows one, and so on? By the numbers. Step by step. No pressure. For example, when I do this"—he smoothed her hair out of his way before lightly sucking her neck, nipping her skin—"what does it make you want to do?" She released a shaky breath before saying, "Oh, I get it. When you do that, it makes me want to"—she turned her head, finding his mouth with hers for a mind-numbing kiss. "Ok, good. That's good," Lucky said when they broke apart. "Now when you did THAT, it made me want to do this"—he reached out and cupped her breast through her blouse, rubbing her nipple gently with his thumb. "Oh, God," Claire gasped, feeling his caress all the way down to her inner core. She arched more fully into his palm. "That makes me want to return the favor, but I think your sweater might be too thick." "Easily fixed," Lucky said, reaching for the hem of his sweater and pulling it over his head. He tossed it across the room onto the lounge chair in the corner. "Do you feel comfortable enough to get undressed, or do you still want to take it slow?" "I'm scared to death, but that's never stopped me before," Claire said, unbuttoning her blouse and then pausing. Lucky recognized her dilemma, chuckling aloud. "You're a neat freak, aren't you?" "Well, I don't want to ruin the passionate abandon of the moment, but I don't want my clothes wrinkled, either." They walked over to the lounge chair, beginning to shed the rest of their clothes. Lucky paused in the middle of removing his boxer briefs when he realized that she was wearing the garter belt and stockings under her slacks. He pursed his lips and his eyes narrowed. "Ooh," he said, "leave those on."
"I think you have a fetish for garter belts and nylons."
"If I do, it's new to me, but you do make a pretty picture in your lingerie. Wow." He led her back to the bed. "Don't you want to finish getting undressed?" she asked. "I like the idea of unwrapping the rest as we go. You don't care if your underwear gets wrinkled, do you?" he teased. "Very funny," she countered. "Now, where were we?" "I believe we were here," he said, reaching again for her breast, giving the tip a light tug through her bra. "Yes, and I remember I wanted to return the favor," she said, running her thumb over his flat, ruddy-colored nipple, smiling as he hissed and closed his eyes. She leaned forward and replaced her thumb with her lips, giving him a slight kiss. "What does that make you want to do?" she asked. Lucky wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back with him onto the bed. He cupped the side of her neck in his hand as he once again took her mouth, sliding his tongue against hers almost immediately. He increased the pressure of his lips on hers, groaning softly as he felt his prick stiffen even more. He moved his hand away from her neck, down to the strap of her bra, under it, easing it down, exposing her breast. Breaking the kiss, he voraciously latched on to her nipple, suckling it strongly, laving it wetly. "Ohh," she cried out as her pulse skyrocketed. "That feels so good." He dragged his mouth from one breast to the other, nipping her through the bra cup before reaching for the other strap, pulling it down, and exposing her fully. She looked at his face—such a look of wonder he had as he took in her beauty. "You're beautiful," he said, taking in her tightly beaded light brown nipples. He leaned down again, dropping slow kisses on first one soft mound, than the other, alternating faster between the two, adding pressure with each pass of his lips. Claire moaned and reached down, searching for the waistband of his briefs, sliding her hand inside, and finding his flesh. Lucky exhaled slowly, jerkily, his mouth opening involuntarily. His legs tensed up as she began stroking him from root to tip, running her thumb over his head, gently coaxing the sap from his slit and using it as a lubricant, stroking him faster. Lucky slapped his hand suddenly over hers, stopping her, breathing hard as he said, "Go easy. I told you it's been a while. I don't want to come yet."
"Well, how is this going to work? I want to touch you, too."
"If you come, we can keep going—if I come, it's going to be a while before we can go again. Maybe for now, you can touch other parts of my body, and save that for last, or at least toward the end. I just don't want to let either of us down."
"I'll try, but I'm making no promises," Claire finally conceded. "If you keep touching me, sucking me the way you were, my hands just might find you again, and if they do, we'll just have to go with it."
"A challenge? Is that a challenge I hear?"
"No, just fair warning. I won't be held responsible for what my hands choose to do."
"Ok, fair enough," Lucky laughed, "whatever happens, happens." He leaned up on his elbow, looking down into her smiling face. "You really are incredibly lovely, you know," he remarked. Claire tried to look away from his piercing gaze, but he held her chin fast, not allowing it. "Why do you do that? You don't know how to take a compliment?"
"I'm just not used to receiving them—I'm a little self-conscious, I guess."
"Well, I guess that's something we'll have to work on," he said, removing his hand, sliding it down her body. He held her eyes with his as he eased his hand down into her panties, lightly stroking her hair before delving deeper. She went to look away again but he stopped her, saying, "No, please don't. I want to see your face. I want to see what I'm doing to you, how it's affecting you." He slid two fingers inside her, using her own juices to ease his way as he rhythmically moved them in and out. "Oh. Oh, God, Lucky, ooh," she gasped, her back arching and her eyes blinking rapidly. Her mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to speak further, but could form no words. Finally, her eyes rolled back as her tongue pushed out against her upper lip. Her neck tensed, and her legs widened. She grunted softly and panted shallowly as she fought her climax. "Do I get to touch you yet?" she asked through clinched teeth, still fighting to hold on. "No, not yet. Come for me, just once. Let me hear you. Just let go." He pushed his fingers higher into her, rubbing his thumb rapidly against her clit, watching her reactions. "AAAHHHH! Oh, Godddd, that's so good! Oooh," she cried, grinding her face into his chest and rocking her hips against his fingers, unable to fight the effects of his skilled hands any longer. She reached up, grabbing his head in her arms, holding tightly, grinding her head against his as, using the same technique, he brought her shuddering into another climax. She was wide-eyed and shaking as he eased her back down onto the bed before quickly removing his briefs and her panties and rising over her. Gripping the tip of his prick, he rubbed it back and forth in her juices, over and over against her clit before finally entering her, feeling a strange sense of coming home as he eased his way into her tight, wet box. "Oh, Claire. Oh, God, Claire," Lucky groaned. "I wish you could feel how good this feels, to be inside you. How tight you are. My God. I don't know if I can hold on." "Then don't," she whispered. "Let go, Lucky. Come inside me." Her words released a trigger inside him, and as if a band suddenly snapped, he began rocking his hips against hers furiously. "OhGodOhGodOhWow—Clairrrre… God!" She raised her legs higher, resting her feet on his ass, causing him to gasp and cry out harshly as he thrust against her thrice more. He finally let go, and came as if every dam inside his body had been opened. Lucky ground his face into her hair, drowning in vanilla spice as he exclaimed, "Oh! Oh, wow. Aaaugh!" They were both breathing rapidly, looking at each other with a new awareness. Little by little, their senses began returning to them, their pulse rates slowing. "Are you ok? Did I hurt you?" Lucky asked her. "No, you were wonderful. It was perfect. Wow." Lucky began laughing, his shaking body setting off another reaction within Claire, who hissed as the little climax washed over her. "What's so funny?" she asked self-consciously.
"You, me, this, us. Nothing in life should feel this good. I can't remember the last time I felt this good. Thank you." He arched his hips, intending to pull out of her, but she stopped him. "Can we just lay like this for a while?" she asked. "Sure," he said, giving her a gentle kiss that deepened when she sent her tongue searching for his. He burrowed his head into her shoulder and she wrapped her arms around his back. They drifted off to sleep—him still nestled inside her, her arms still holding him close.
It was the stillness of the room that jerked Claire to awareness. She froze, allowing her senses to flare outward, trying to understand what was different about her bedroom. A heartbeat later, she realized four things at once: she was not in her bedroom, she had stayed overnight at Lucky's place, it was his arm around her, and he was still inside her. She sighed aloud. That frickin' wine! She remembered now—at some point during the night, he had shifted off of her and lay on her side, snuggling close. And during the wee hours of the morning, she awoke slightly to feel him lift her leg and enter her from behind, stroking gently back and forth. It had felt like a gentle massage, so slowly had he moved within her. She had tightened her inner muscles on him, they both came, and they slid back into a restful sleep. She racked her brain for the rules of etiquette—how does one extricate oneself from a man's bed when he is still inside one? Should she wake him up, should she cough out loud, should she scoot forward, hoping nature would do the rest? She sighed again. "Good morning. You're thinking so loudly that you woke me up," Lucky said groggily, his voice rusty from misuse. He leaned forward and dropped a light kiss on her back before realizing that they were still joined. He arched his hips, sliding away from her. "Sorry about that, but you were so warm and snug this morning that I didn't want to pull out. What time is it?" Claire looked around the room for a clock, her eyes finding the one on his bureau. "It's 6:45," Claire responded. "I need to get going if I'm going to get a shower and wash my hair before work this morning." Lucky groaned into his pillow. "'S too early—I don't have to be up for at least another forty minutes." "Well, I need to go now," Claire said, finally looking at him after she got out of the bed. "Hey, listen," Lucky asked, eyeing her owlishly, "are you ok? You don't regret what happened here, do you?" Claire was silent for a moment. "To tell the truth, when I first woke up, I did, a bit. This isn't something I make a habit of. But I'm looking at you, all adorable with your hair sticking up all over the place and your morning voice, and no, I don't regret it anymore. It was the best night I've had in a long time."
"Me too. I don't make a habit of doing this either. I had a wonderful time—I'm glad you stayed." "Ok," she said after she'd finished dressing, "I really have to go." She kissed Lucky's forehead. "Thanks again for a fantastic night."
"You're welcome. Thank YOU."
"YOU'RE welcome. I'll see you later." Claire left the bedroom and a moment later, Lucky heard the front door open and close. "Fantastic, huh," he thought to himself before rolling over onto his stomach and promptly falling back to sleep.