A/N: If it is possible to fall in love with a voice coming through a pair of headphones, then Amos Lee is the one to make it happen. An absolutely amazing, magical artist. Wills and I recently discovered him, and were immediately inspired. "Arms of a Woman" is the first in what we plan as a series based on his songs. The link for this song is in our profile...and always, hope you enjoy! - AnaG and Willgirl
He was tired.
The kind of tired that seeped into his muscles and knotted itself behind his eyes. They had been at this too long, trying too hard without any results. And all he wanted was to go home. No more dragging a suitcase into another stale hotel room. No more bland food eaten on the fly whenever they could find a spare moment. Nothing here was familiar, and God, right now he ached for the comfort of something familiar.
But it wasn't going to happen. Not until they caught this guy. Already they'd chased him halfway across the country, and still he kept slipping through their fingers. So no office, no diner, no little league games. No home. Not until they found the bastard.
Nodding his head, he signaled the bartender for another as he looked around the shadowed room. He'd been driving around aimlessly, when he'd found the place. A real hole in the wall bar that was a sure bet not to be on the list for the local tourist board. But he liked it. Dark. Everyone minding their own business. Something slow and easy playing on the juke in the corner, leaving a man enough room to think about the things.
Smoke wafted through the air and he could hear the slight ping of darts as they hit the dartboard. Taking a sip of his beer, he stared down at the wooden bar. His partner was in her hotel room, probably reading some anthropological journal with words that he didn't understand. He had just left her there, mumbling a few words and then leaving. Most times he enjoyed his partner's company, even when they fought, but today, today he just needed to sit and have a beer in silence.
Actually, what he really needed was to get pissed drunk and forget all this shit that had been happening.
He didn't need to see her stern look or hear her chatter, he just needed...
He couldn't even say.
When he was younger, he would just get drunk and hit on the prettiest girl in the bar. A head full of alcohol and a quick lay definately made problems better. But he was older. supposedly wiser, and he wasn't looking for that anymore.
His fingers played with the label on his beer bottle, pulling it back and forth as he squeezed his eyes shut.
He heard several of the guys give low whistles but he didn't bother to turn his head. But then he felt it, a hand on his shoulder. A soft touch, a woman's touch. He tensed, caught between the possiblity of temptation, the irritation at the intrusion. And the surprising unease that somehow he was being disloyal. All of that in a fraction of a second, from a single touch from someone unseen, and it shook him.
The hand, her hand, moved across his back, fingertips traveling across his shoulder blade as if by right. He breathed deeply, and through the smell of tobacco and musty beer he caught the scent of something altogether different. Strawberry shampoo and peppermints and beneath that the faint trace of antiseptic. A scent he would know anywhere.
He didn't know how, but she had found him.
Not knowing whether to be pissed that she had tracked him down, or grateful that she had, he turned slowly, hoping that the right words would be there. But the moment his eyes met hers, she stole every word he'd ever known.
She put her finger to his lips and his breath hitched. He expected her to slide onto the barstool next to him but she surprised him once again by brushing past him, her hips swaying slightily as she made her way over to the jukebox in the corner. His eyes followed her and he watched as she punched in some buttons and turned to face him.
He was half way across the room before he even realized it. Taking a step closer, he watched as her body swayed to the music. She was a goddess, an angel and a devil all rolled into one. She was temptation at its greatest and he could feel himself giving in with every step he took. Suddenly, he had no greater goal in life then to wrap his arms around her and pull her close.
She held out her hand.
"Dance with me."
It was a simple request and one that could be his undoing, but he took her hand anyway. He could never deny her anything. His other hand went around her waist and he pulled her close, swaying in time to the music. Her fingers clenched tightly at his shirt and her breath tickled his ear and he was lost. They continued to sway, neither aware of the numerous pairs of eyes that were focused on them.
Everything was gone except the feel of her body in his arms.
Drifting in the soft heat between them, he closed his eyes as she rested her head against his shoulder, nestling into the curve of his neck as if it had been made for her. He heard the quiet sigh of satisfaction that escaped her lips as his hand slid to the small of her back, possessively drawing her closer. Maybe it was the whisper of her hair like silk against his skin, the endless relief at finally being able to hold her like this, but he never wanted it to end. He could stay like this forever, trapped in the spell she'd cast over him.
Without thinking, without doubting the reason, he bent his head, pressing his lips against the hidden place just below her ear, before whispering every thought into her ear, wanting her to know that because of her, he could forget the damaged bodies, the man out there doing sick and twisted things. He was at ease. At peace. Because here, in the arms of this woman, he knew he was home.
Then the song ended. Someone bumped against his shoulder. There was a dull thump as the bartender clunked another bottle in front of him. And just like that, he was back at the bar. Alone and sad and wanting to be home. He breathed deeply, and there, just for a second, right below the stink of old beer and smoke, he thought he could smell strawberries and peppermint.
Drawing the cell phone from his pocket, he hesitated, wondering if he was about to make a mistake. And then, realized that it didn't matter. He dialed quickly, lifting the phone to ear and waited for the comfort of the familiar voice on the other end of the line.