CHAPTER 4

Barry Frost's expression was a study in consternation. His partner had, without warning, stalked off in the opposite direction, presumably to talk with one of the CSU technicians. The abrupt about face was uncharacteristic for the female detective. The thought lingered. He safely tucked it away. The beautiful woman now bending down by the corpse garnered his complete attention. While he appreciated the three inch black heels, he couldn't stop himself from shaking his head. Blood splatter on Prada was truly an offense in Frost's world. The sight of the ME snapping on gloves then cautiously touching the victim's lips twisted the young black detective's stomach.

"If you're going to vomit, please do so away from the body."

Frost just nodded then slinked further away. He quickly scanned the last place his partner had been located and was relieved when he saw her returning. As the distance decreased, he noted the fists at her side and the stiff way she walked. Oddly enough, his Rizzoli file was filling up today.

Meeting him halfway, she lightly pulled him aside and whispered, "Give me a minute." Although their eyes never met, Frost could feel waves of tension rolling off his partner. Mystified, he nevertheless, backed off a respectful space. To say that he was intrigued would have been an understatement.

"Maura."

The ME's head shot up at the husky and familiar pronunciation of her name. Her eyes widened in surprise, her mouth slightly opened as the silence lengthened.

Jane cleared her throat and tried again. "You're the ME."

Maura seemed to recover from the shock of seeing Jane at the crime scene. Gracefully she unfolded her body to stand. "You're taller then I remember."

"Uh, ok." The words wouldn't come. Even with the emotional upheaval threatening to burst through her tight skin, Jane could not curtail the panic holding her tongue hostage. Yeah, collecting yourself didn't help, Rizzoli.

Cocking her head to one side, Maura commented, "We never did get around to discussing our career paths. What is the correct colloquialism?"

"It's...it's a small world."

"Isn't it fortuitous we're now working together?"

Hours ago I was mooning over this woman like some horny teenager. Jane nodded. Dear God, Rizzoli, fucking get it together! "COD?"

The brilliant green of Maura Isles' eyes dimmed fractionally. Had the detective not been drowning in their depths, she almost certainly would have missed it.

"I won't be able to determine that until I get him back to the morgue."

"GSW to the chest?"

Maura stooped down again and examined the victim's fingernails. "I'll call you with an update later in the day."

Evidently the ME had dismissed the detective. Jane, suppressing annoyance at being so thoroughly excused from the other woman's presence, remained standing over Maura.

"My name's Jane Rizzoli. I'm a homicide detective with the Boston PD." She waited until Maura's gaze met her own. "We may have met yesterday?"

A subtle blush graced the blonde's cheeks as her lips eased into a wry smile. "Hello, Jane. It's a pleasure to meet you. Statistically speaking, female detectives-"

"I'd really, really love to hear about your...particular thoughts...on that subject but I'm kinda in the middle of finding out who swiss-cheesed the vic."

Maura's nose scrunched up.

"I'll stop by your dungeon later. Maybe we can have lunch?"

Silent, the blonde merely nodded and watched the tall, lanky brunette walk away. The fact that she was admiring Jane's wide shoulders and tapered legs as she met up with Detective Frost didn't register until a CSU tech cleared his throat. Maura reassembled her features into a more professional appearance and steadfastly ignored the tiny butterflies disturbing her concentration. Thinking about Jane Rizzoli like that had just become a very fruitless occupation. While not adverse to sexual encounters with other females, she didn't see the validity of workplace dalliances. The disaster potential far outweighed any fleeting gratification. Oh, but those dimples! Maura thought, sadness tinting the edges of her memory. And that voice...I could listen to it all day long...laying in bed with her...those long legs tangled up with mine...

As she prepared to leave, Maura instructed one of her interns to recover the patch of blood-soaked grass in front of the victim. The temperature was beginning to swell, bringing with it a muggy cloyingness. It caused the back of her silk shirt to catch on her damp skin. Uncomfortable rivulets began between her breasts, trailing downward only to gather at her bra, then reemerging to trickle across the taut lines of her stomach. The perspiration on her skin, the heat of the day, and the memory of promising dark eyes made Maura edgy. She had felt the first stirrings of desire when Jane beckoned towards her from across the coffee shop yesterday. The brunette had casually leaned on the table, her legs bare, tan, and long. Maura's eyes were captured by distinct clavicles and the elegant column of Jane's throat. Later, ensconced within the supple confines of her bed, Maura would recall the brunette's neck and wonder how it would taste under her wet mouth.

The line of fantasy, albeit tantalizing, served no other purpose then to unfairly tease her with visions of what may have been. As she slipped into her car, Maura resolved to re-channel her feelings into a professional association with the detective and perhaps, some variation of friendship. By the time she arrived at the morgue, all willful mental meanderings disappeared. Dr. Maura Isles was once again in control, directing the autopsy as she hovered over the young intern. She oversaw the initial external exam, hovering behind the young male intern as he nervously filled out the paperwork. When he missed a small cross tattoo along the frenulum, Maura patiently corrected his oversight. It wasn't unusual for male medical examiners to perform cursory inspections upon the genitalia of their victims, especially if it belonged to another male. She supposed it was an imprudent fear based upon another's opinion of masculinity. Whatever the reason, such negligence had no place in her morgue.

"Do you believe you've done a thorough inspection?"

His blue eyes were magnified behind coke-bottle glasses. "I believe so, Dr. Isles."

"Let's begin with the Y incision, Jason."

The rest of the morning into the early afternoon found Maura increasingly frustrated with her intern. Ever since he missed the tattoo, he had been second guessing his findings. When she quickly glimpsed the wall clock she was astonished to realize it was nearing 2:15pm. With that knowledge, her shoulders and neck protested.

"Jason, I'd like for you to take a break and come back in thirty minutes to reconvene with your training." She plucked the clipboard from his inactive hands.

"Oh, but, Dr. Isles-"

"I will see you back here in thirty minutes." she ordered, never looking up from reading his notes.

"Hey, Queen of the Dead!"

Maura looked up and was trapped by fathomless dark brown eyes. Momentarily stunned, she ran the tip of her tongue along her lower lip. It wasn't lost on her that Jane's eyes noted the movement. That single action was enough to make Maura bite her lower lip. Oh. My.

"So, how's swiss cheese doin'? Got COD yet?"

Maura sighed. "Pending blood chems and tox screens, it's a GSW. But we did find something rather...unique. Here, let me show you."

"Hey, hey, hey, hey...I don't need to see his junk, Maura. For Christ's sake, don't touch it!"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm wearing gloves, Jane. It's no different than if I were lifting his hand-"

"MAURA! Just tell me, please!"

"You don't seem to have a problem looking at his open chest cavity."

Jane walked around the table, putting herself between the ME and the corpse. "I brought you something."

Taking off her gloves, Maura took a step back, pivoted and walked over to the hazardous waste receptacle.

"There's a small tattoo of a cross along the frenulum of the penis."

"That musta hurt."

"Indeed." Maura

Jane's eyes sparkled with mirth. "Gives a whole new meaning to Christ on the cross..."

The ME clamped her hand over her open mouth, effectively silencing her laughter.

Without further delay, she gently placed the white paper bag in front of the blonde. "Since I didn't hear from you, I, uh, figured you were still...you know, cuttin' the guy up." Vaguely she gestured behind them. "Anyway-"

"Fruit." Maura blinked. "You brought me a bowl of fresh fruit, Jane."

"Uh, yeah? Jesus, Maur, it's not like I picked it myself..."

In a low tone, she thanked Jane, inordinately pleased with the detective's thoughtfulness.

Jane cleared her throat.

Maura looked down at her shoes.

The silence was fraught with dangerous undercurrents neither woman was prepared to explore at the moment. Her chemical reaction to Jane confounded Maura. There was lust and there was the promise of something more, something substantial, something alien to her. It made Maura Isles nervous, a quandary she hadn't experienced since her first piano recital at the age of six. Devoid of logic, her reaction to Jane's proximity, to her kindness nudged at the self image she had perfected throughout the years. In a little over thirty six hours the tall, slender brunette with the smoky voice, deep brown eyes and solicitous deeds had managed to challenge the accomplished medical examiner in ways she had never anticipated previously.

Jane shifted her weight, bringing her in closer proximity to Maura. She desperately longed to say something, anything to break the poignancy. The drawn out minutes should have tumbled into an awkward lull.

"Diets high in fruits and vegetables can lower blood pressure."

A ghost of a smile tilted Jane's lips. "I think I read that."

"At least nine servings a day." Maura glanced at the bowl. "I think I'm going to need a larger bowl, Jane."