A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating.
Foreign language translations will be at the bottom of the page.
Thanks to my beta, Ceridwyn, for her editing services!
Chapter Two – Appetizers & Entrees
Jane peered from the restaurant foyer into the dining room, scanning the heads and faces for anyone else that looked like they were here for a blind date. As she rose onto her tiptoes to get a better look, she pulled the front of her coat tightly around her damp body and secretly hoped she'd been stood up.
A very young, fresh-faced waitress appeared, drawing Jane's attention back into the foyer. "Do you have a reservation?" she asked. "Only we're quite busy tonight."
Really? Jane imagined the subtlety of the girl's snooty tone would be missed by most people, but it, along with her demeanour and facial expression, spoke volumes to the detective. She was momentarily offended and one eyebrow lifted almost to her hairline as she looked fully at the waif-like redhead. Do I look like I wouldn't have a reservation? Admittedly yes, she did look like she'd just walked in off the street in order to shelter from the rain, perhaps just chancing her luck at a free table to pass the time, but honestly, who in their right mind would be walking around for fun in a dress that felt a size too small and heels that made your feet want to scream? Look at me, child - I'm obviously here for a date!
Standing to her full height, intimidating as she was even without heels, Jane tried to keep the worst of her sarcasm on a leash and her arms by her sides. Flashing her teeth through a menacing smile, she was smug and satisfied as she announced, "Actually, I'm meeting someone." And you can suck it, Lindsay Lohan!
"Oh, in that case…" The girl gestured with one hand, turning away from Jane as she spoke, "…you may wait in the bar for… your companion."
The brunette was directed to her left, to the far side of the bustling dining room, where a dark mahogany bar spanned the entire length of the space. She stalked across, between tables and chairs, determined to find a very strong drink. It was quickly turning into that kind of evening.
Approaching the bar, Jane was too preoccupied analysing the girl's words to notice the bartender smiling at her. Why the pause? 'You may wait in the bar for him'. How is that not obvious? Companion my ass. She shot a look back over her shoulder, eyes narrowed in contempt, but the girl had vanished.
The confused detective was about to take a seat at one of the many barstools and bury her frustrations in several shots of something that burned when someone called out to her.
"Jane? Jane Rizzoli?"
The brunette's coat tails flared out as she spun quickly around on her heels, searching for the source of the voice.
A short, stocky man rose from his seat at a nearby table. He took a step forward and reached out a hand to shake hers as he grinned, "Wow. Angela told me what you looked like but she didn't tell me how utterly gorgeous you were!"
Jane was staring wide-eyed, unable to speak as the man continued to grip and shake her hand animatedly.
His eyes swept up and down her tall figure, leering, concentrating on the portion of her lithe body revealed by the unbuttoned, parted front of her coat, "I'm Nick, um, Niccolo Baldi. Nice to meet you."
An incredulous laugh tried to burst free from Jane but she caught it and used her amusement as a cover. She smiled widely back, a fisted hand pressed to her lips aiding the detective's self-control, as she tried to drag her gaze from his shiny, bare scalp.
"Hi – hello." Baldi? Oh my god, Ma. You've got to be kidding me!
Her hand felt sweaty and grimy when he finally released it. She swiped it down the length of her coat-covered torso, removing the moisture and willing away a sudden ache that forced a flex of her fingers, before turning away to remove her soggy outer layer.
Nick had already retaken his seat at the intimate dinner table when Jane turned back around and, though she tried not to look in his direction, she could tell he was still staring. His scrutiny made her acutely uncomfortable as she placed her coat on the back of her chair. He made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
She moved out from behind the chair in order to take her own seat, and as she did so a lascivious whistle made its way across the table. She stopped and, with her face turned away from him, hidden behind her ebony mane, she rolled her eyes so hard she thought for a second she'd caught a glimpse of her own brain. It's gonna be a long fucking night.
The doctor had given herself a thorough pat on the back for tonight; it was long overdue. This was her first date in a very long time. Her run of bad choices, general misfortune, and the occasional psychopath had put paid to the romantic aspirations she had once held.
She had spoken to Felix many times on the phone, during a consultation on a recent case, and Maura had created a picture in her mind of the man behind the smoky voice. Her courage had been returning bit by bit, steadily over the past few weeks, and she'd felt much safer venturing back out into the dating arena. She was almost certain before accepting the distinguished professor's invitation that the gravel-throated man wasn't the type to hold her at knifepoint, drug her, or try to con anything out of her.
She had been way off when imagining his features, but she was far from disappointed. It was shallow, she knew, to have felt relief upon discovering the attractive voice was encased in such an equally attractive exterior.
Tall, dark and handsome hadn't even come close. Felix was exquisite. The unruly softness of his curly hair was a delight. The dark freckle on his cheek begged for the stroke of her fingertip. The twinkle in his eye was familiar in a way she couldn't quite pinpoint. The sharp cut of his suit, several shirt buttons undone, skin that looked golden and smooth to the touch…
She'd thought about skipping dinner entirely when she'd first laid eyes on him in the restaurant foyer. One glance into his black coffee bedroom eyes had had her blushing, heat rising through her belly, a craving for something far more satisfying than dessert. It had been far too long since someone had touched her.
Nick's chivalry was well-intentioned, Jane had no doubt he was just innocently trying to impress her, but it had gone down like a lead balloon. His attempts to put forth an air of worldliness and sophistication had misfired, though so far he was oblivious to his failure.
He was embarrassingly eager. He'd asked so politely if he could order for the both of them that Jane hadn't had the heart to refuse. It wouldn't be the first time she'd sat in an unfamiliar restaurant and eaten food she couldn't visually identify, though usually the company was decidedly more striking.
Not unlike Jane herself, Nick had been unable to pronounce anything on the exclusively French menu, but even worse he'd opted for finger pointing his choices to the waitress rather than ask what anything was.
To his credit, Nick was a good listener. He'd started out the evening by asking Jane what she did for a living and paid attention as she spoke.
Jane had been nervous at first, avoiding and side-stepping details, as was her usual date strategy. At first she was just a cop, not a homicide detective, lest she scare him off even before the appetizers arrived. But talk of her occupation soon turned her mind once again to their latest case, and she found she couldn't stop. Her babbling helped in a way, it brought more questions to the surface - things she would need to ask Maura about later.
Now, sick of the sound of her own voice and prodding her fork at something even Maura would call questionable, the detective wished she'd listened to her gut and gone to the precinct instead. How many more times would she succumb to her mother's guilt trips and have to suffer through her terrible taste in men?
A half-eaten plate sat in front of Jane. It was unappetising, disgustingly gelatinous and it was mocking her. Next time pick your own food, Jane. Next time have some backbone and speak up, Jane. Ask for a doggy bag and take me home, Jane. Get your best friend to dissect and identify me in the lab, Jane.
A quick glance at her watch told the detective it was still too early to ditch her date in favour of chasing up evidence. Of course if something came up she'd happily sprint back to her car for a quick getaway, heels or no heels. There was a reason she always brought her cellphone to these dinners.
While Nick was busy ordering yet more wine for himself, Jane rummaged in a coat pocket and retrieved her phone. She was going to wait until she got home before texting Maura, aware that she might not be thanked for interrupting the doctor's private time. She rubbed her thumbs over the screen, pondering the fingerprints she'd just erased. Ha. Who am I kidding?
Bored and frustrated, Maura sat across from her date, sipping wine and picking her way through a grape and blue cheese salad. She was multi-tasking, nodding in all the right places whilst reading and sending text messages on the silenced cell phone that lay in her lap, her date too enamoured of his own voice to notice or care.
J: If the DNA turns up something could we use the lack of prints as evidence?
M: A lack of prints is not evidence, Jane.
J: But it would support the case if we came across a suspect with no prints.
M: Yes, in theory. Though, it would be circumstantial.
J: I guess that alone wouldn't get me an arrest warrant. So I still need DNA to confirm?
M: Short of going back over the scene or body, that's all we've got. Hopefully the lab will find a match in the system.
J: If need be we could set up some dates at the bar. Like the Merch case. You can be the bait this time!
M: I appreciate the offer but I think my days of going undercover are over.
J: So what else would you suggest?
M: I would say go enjoy your date, Jane. Hopefully you're having greater success than I am.
J: Let me know if you need the emergency getaway call. I'm your gal if you need an excuse to leave.
M: I know. Thank you.
Spearing a flake of grilled salmon with her fork, Maura sighed deeply, wistfully, and stared unseeing at her plate. Her displeasure at the quality of her entrée remained unspoken but was not her only source of irritation. This Friday night just wasn't going to plan.
She'd heard all about Felix's state-of-the-art, brand new lab technology, the entire foreword of his latest book, a thorough recap of his time spent teaching out of state, and the frankly obscene size of his latest research grant. He was a very accomplished man and it was all very fascinating up to a point but, for just a second, Maura wished she was anywhere else but here.
The blonde swallowed, bolstering her patience, and when she spoke her voice was firm, as if she were dealing with one of her subordinates, "Felix, let's not talk about work all evening," She softened her demand at the end and followed it with a deliberate smile. She's well aware of how her face moves, how the underlying muscles work in conjunction with her bone structure. She can name all the connective tissues, mechanisms and processes involved in the formation of her facial dimples. It was that smile, the one she usually reserved for stubborn detectives that she flashed at him, to get what she wanted, "Please …tell me about you."
He shrugged, not forthcoming. "My family came over from Bilbao."
She was genuinely interested and a little giddy, "Oh, I hadn't realised you were of Spanish heritage. Your surname is more commonly found in Mexico."
"Really?" He teased. "You must tell me more about my ancestry." Suddenly his tone was off, teetering between condescending and annoyed, "Is there an ancient family crest I don't know about?" After a second he winked and grinned, a bright, white smile that was faintly villainous.
Maura smiled back but it was prim and polite, learned from her mother. She worried silently that she was being overly sensitive, taking offense where none was intended. She worried that she may have offended him by being an insufferable know-it-all; it wouldn't be the first time her runaway mouth had ruined a date. You never learn. She worried that another failed date was yet more evidence that she was destined to be alone. Abandoned. Socially inept. Unlovable.
A blush formed on her cheeks as she pondered how to steer this conversation around to more romantic territory. Shyly she lowered her gaze, regarding what was left of her rapidly-cooling food, before clearing her throat softly. The whisper-like tone she used was well-practiced, a winning formula, the epitome of sexiness, "Estoy fascinado por la mayoría de las cosas europeas."
She didn't know what, if anything, she expected him to say in response, but instead there was an awkward silence that started an itch somewhere below the blonde's neckline.
As Maura lifted her eyes to him, Felix was straight-faced. He blinked twice before whispering, like he was giving away national secrets, "Sorry, what? Er… me…. no comprendo!" He laughed at the bewildered look on Maura's face.
Oh. Suddenly very self-conscious, Maura squirmed in her seat.
His seal-like barks were enough to draw the attention of numerous patrons throughout the restaurant and she smiled politely in turn at those that stared from neighbouring tables.
"I – um…" She fidgeted, pulling and smoothing the napkin that was lying in her lap. She chastised herself for jumping to an incorrect conclusion. "Sorry. I thought…" Her brows drew together and her voice was low, "You don't speak Spanish then?"
"God, no!" He exclaimed, still chucking to himself. "Nah," He waved a dismissive hand in her direction. "I like having the accent, picked it up from my parents, but I never learned." He shrugged again, "No point."
The derisive look on his face left Maura stunned and severely disappointed. Would it hurt to have someone, just once, respond in kind to my love of languages instead of mockery?!
She decided to play it the way Jane might, with a lot of patience and a little entrapment, "I imagine the exotic accent alone would draw you plenty of female attention, hmm?" She smiled sweetly, innocently, and peered upwards at him through her eyelashes.
He was instantly charmed by coy Maura and his libido took over. Her nerdy, multi-lingual confession was forgotten, he was patently uninterested in her intelligence or life-experience. "It doesn't hurt. And I'm still a Spaniard in many other ways. I mambo extremely well."
Mm-hmm. Usually, Maura would rely on her detective to explain obtuse euphemisms, but the wiggle of his eyebrows gave the once oblivious doctor a big enough clue. She was somewhat familiar with the mambo, in theory if not in practice, but it wasn't dancing of the vertical variety he was referring to.
Maura was wildly unimpressed. The fire that had furled and rolled around her ovaries upon arrival was gone, smothered so effectively nothing remotely heated remained; not unless you counted the bitter, ashen aftertaste left in her mouth from a terribly overcooked piece of fish. The mambo isn't even Spanish, you… jackass!
The revelation that Nick owned a bakery had brought Jane's date to a screeching halt.
He'd tried to make small talk about the intricacies of cake decorating and the process of choosing suitable flours after she went quiet, but Jane was stuck. She was struck dumb. In her mind she was back there, handcuffed to the bed. Every time she looked up at Nick and glimpsed his blatantly lustful eyes she saw his face. Dominic.
The sudden squealing sound of Nick pushing back his chair dragged Jane from her memories and made her wince. She nodded with a barely hidden sneer as he excused himself to the restroom.
"Um, sorry… too much wine."
She mumbled grumpily at his retreating form, "You don't say."
Her mother setting her up with a man with such a ridiculous name was one thing; setting her up with a man who reminded her of a crazed kidnapper was something else. Unbelievable.
Jane rubbed a hand over her face and let out a deep sigh before signalling to the waitress for another glass of water. One minute in Nick's overly-amorous company had been enough to catapult her back onto the wagon for the night. Better safe than sorry she'd thought at the time. Now she was one difficult memory away from getting smashed and dealing with the messy consequences tomorrow.
The waitress set Jane's refilled glass down on the table as her cellphone vibrated again signalling another message.
This date couldn't end soon enough for Maura, but she was persevering for the sake of professionalism. This wasn't just any guy; he wasn't the yoga instructor she could avoid by taking a different class, or the surgeon she'd never have to see again after her friend's rehabilitation, he was currently a colleague.
Her decision to mix business and pleasure had been an error in judgement; one she'd be reluctant to repeat ever again but for extremely exceptional circumstances. Her yearning for that perfect someone, a partner fill up the emptiness inside, a kindred soul to understand her, had blinded her to the logic of keeping these things isolated from one another.
What had seemed like a very promising match was in fact just another one of those bad decisions.
Maura had been paying less and less attention to Felix, his messy and nauseating way of eating too much for her to bear along with everything else. She was rarely so inattentive, but tonight she was grateful for the presence of her phone.
Felix was chewing with his mouth open as she sent off another text message.
M: You haven't said anything about your date, Jane. Is it not going well?
J: Not even remotely. I'm going to slowly choke my mother with her own tea towel when I see her. You?
M: Very disappointing.
J: You ok? You want the 911?
Felix loudly and deliberately cleared his throat to get Maura's attention. He peered at her, questioning eyes narrowed, intimidating broad shoulders tensed. His head tilted to the side as his eyes flicked down to her lap.
"Problem?"
Maura's gaze flicked down to the phone still clutched in one hand.
J: Maura?
She stumbled over her panic. He was the textbook definition of passive-aggressive and she'd been rumbled. "Um, work… just someone from work."
He grunted, "That detective you're always talking about?"
J: Maura!
Maura smiled sweetly as she tried to stop her heart from racing, "Yes. We had a new case this week. It's ongoing." Please don't ring.
He seemed the perfect gentleman as he stood from the table, "Well, if you'll excuse me, I need the little boy's room."
She was about to breathe a big sigh of relief as he turned back to face her. She gulped and held it in as he gestured in the vicinity of her lap.
He snapped his orders like a high school teacher giving homework instructions before walking away, "You can finish up whatever it is that's distracting you while I'm gone." And put it away. He didn't say it, he didn't have to.
The blonde breathed out as he disappeared, her eyes following him the entire way until he was out of sight. She could practically hear Jane's voice in her head.
Wow! Nice going, Maura. Try and find a person without a personality disorder next time!
Another buzz of her phone startled her. With an elbow propped up on the table, she palmed her face for a moment and shook her head, wondering how she'd gotten herself into such an uncomfortable situation.
The next incoming text message had her up on her feet, grabbing her purse and heading for the ladies room. She didn't care how it would look - if he returned to find her gone and proceeded to leave prematurely it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.
J: If I don't hear anything in the next 5 mins I'm calling you whether you like it or not!
M: Hold on…
Spanish Translation:
Estoy fascinado por la mayoría de las cosas europeas – I'm fascinated by most things European