The Scarf
Chapter 1: Hell Freezes Over
They were checking out an abandoned warehouse, when he noticed it. The scarf was beautiful, dark red shot through with gold. It swirled around her neck at least twice, secured by a loose knot at the base of her throat, the ends teasing the swell of her breasts.
It highlighted her hair and skin perfectly.
Reese wanted to touch it.
He wanted to touch her.
Joss frowned, following his gaze, "What?" she asked.
"The scarf – it's nice."
She stopped walking, folding her arms, her voice a combination of resignation and amusement, "Go ahead."
"I don't know what you mean, Detective."
"Make some smartass remark about my new scarf, get it out of your system."
"Carter, I just made a comment," he shrugged, "I don't have anything else to say."
"No?" she expertly imitated his flirty whisper, "Got a date tonight, Carter?" "You shouldn't have worn that just for me, Carter." "Wanted to tie something up today, Carter?"
Did he really sound that bad? "If I were going to say something, Carter," he stepped forward, towering over her, "it would be much better than that."
He was so close that an errant breeze from the warehouse's bank of broken windows wafted the ends of the scarf just inches from his chest. Their eyes met for a long moment, neither one saying anything.
Finally Joss stepped back, "No snark from John Reese? Hell has officially frozen over."
A bullet flew past her head. Hell hadn't frozen over, but it certainly had broken loose.
Hours later, her sharp white teeth tore several strips off the scarf and she bound his cut, bleeding palms.
"Joss –"
"You need to be able to lift that construction plate so we can get out of here," she said. "Besides" she smirked, "this is a knockoff – if we survive, you can buy me the real thing."
She turned her head at a sudden noise, not noticing that he'd slipped the rest of the scarf into his pocket.
TBC