"It's a shame, you know."


Lassiter's head whipped around to face the voice, his eyes wide. No, it wasn't fair — he didn't want to see her again! Vick had promised she was gone for good.


But there she was, perched on O'Hara's desk, chewing and snapping gum loudly. His partner was absent, gone to retrieve files for him on a suspect. He hoped he could get her to leave before she came back and saw that... thing there, her legs spread obscenely.


Thank God she's wearing pants, he thought. "What are you doing here?"


"I got a day off from my own station," Goochberg replied, and then whistled sharply. "Hey Carl, I think I figured out your problem."


Lassiter furrowed his brow, confused. She was his problem! Well, Spencer too, but at the moment she took priority. "My problem?"


"With me." She slid off the desk, pulling at the back of her pants and making a face. "Wedgie," she explained with a grunt.


Lassiter pushed his chair a little farther back to maintain the distance they had had. "I have many problems with you, Goochberg."


"But only one important one," Goochberg said, holding up a finger and staring at him unblinkingly. "And it's not the pacemaker."


"The pacemaker was the least of my worries," he admitted.


"You've got the Gooch."


Lassiter stared. He wasn't sure if he should be confused, laugh, or hope to God she wasn't referring to herself as "Gooch" in the way she'd originally explained it to him. "I've got the... the what?"


"The Gooch." She stared at him for a moment, moving to lean against his desk, and then exclaimed, exasperated, "The Gooch! Me, Carl, me! You're in love with me!"


"I'm—" He couldn't help but let out a laugh, though it was more shocked than amused. "I'm in love with you? You?"


"Oh, it's completely understandable, Carl." She snapped her gum and brushed her hair back, probably imitating some model in synthesized wind. "I am irresistible to most of the men I encounter."


"I'd be afraid to meet those men." Lassiter stood up, walking around his desk — careful to give her a wide berth — and started toward the hall. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do, and my partner should be back soon."


"That flimsy little blond thing can't do for you what I can," Goochberg said, following him. Her voice send an involuntary shudder through him, and it was just enough of a stall for her to grab him and push him into the wall, leaning in close. "You'd better leave your air conditioning on and prepare something without beef for dinner, Carl, because I sweat a lot at night and cow meat gives me gas."


"I— what?" he stuttered, afraid to hear her explanation.


A smile spread over her face and she took her gum out of her mouth, sticking it behind her ear. Leaning further in until she was only a half-inch away from his face, she whispered, "Tonight, you're gonna get Gooched."


With a quick, brutal kiss, she pushed away from him and walked down the hall just as O'Hara was returning.


After a moment, Lassiter shook himself, nodding to his partner, and sat down again. He couldn't concentrate, though — her words haunted him, and he was afraid to see the minutes pass.


And the worst part was that he was completely turned on.