A/N: Caution: More fluff and unashamed romance ahead. A little less talky and more "action-y" too. And keep in mind that this is Season 1, so some of the things that happened in later seasons haven't happened yet. I hope you enjoy it!
Chapter 7
Lisbon received her third letter from Jane that afternoon. He must have slipped inside her office when she'd stepped out a moment, as she found the familiar envelope propped against her computer as before. With a smile and a light blush, she opened the seal.
Dearest Teresa,
I want to feel your heart beating against mine.
Dance with me.
J.
P.S. Pick me up at 8:00.
What would it be like to dance with Patrick Jane? To feel his arms around her, so close that they could feel each other's hearts beating, like the image he'd planted in her mind? She shivered, at the same time feeling hot all over. She was struck with the sudden, intense desire to see him, to feel the warmth of his smile as he looked at her.
She peered out into the bullpen through her office window, but saw no sign of her future date. Since there were no new cases, she'd noted that he'd been alternately reading or sleeping on his couch most of the day, but he wasn't there now. She took a quick, casual tour of the Serious Crimes Unit floor, and was disappointed not to have found him in the break room or any of the interrogation rooms for that matter. He'd apparently left work, though he had to have taken some alternate transportation.
According to his postscript, she'd be picking him up at home. She was used to his strange comings and goings, so she supposed she shouldn't be surprised, but she thought that, given their new intimacy, he might have at least said good-bye. She tried not to feel too hurt, but neither had he spoken to her except in passing the entire day. Was he playing some mentalist reverse psychology game with her? Building up the tension for later? If so, he was doing a bang-up job of it, for she certainly felt tense and filled with a sharp sense of expectancy.
She couldn't stop thinking of the man, of their kisses, of feeling like a teenager with a crush on the quarterback, except she must try to think of a better analogy, for the thought of Jane in football regalia made her laugh out loud. She found her way back to the bullpen in time to see that Grace had received a delivery of her own.
A small white box sat in the middle of her desk, and Rigsby was looking on in rapt interest.
Lisbon stopped in the doorway to watch. When the redhead slipped the tape away from the box lid, she gasped in delight, reaching in to pull out one perfect, white gardenia.
"How gorgeous!" she exclaimed in awe. Lisbon could smell the fragrant flower all the way from where she was standing.
Van Pelt's eyes flew to Rigsby, and Lisbon frowned, but the man only shrugged, looking suddenly very jealous. Bewildered, Van Pelt looked back down at her flower, and noticed that it sat upon a folded slip of paper. All eyes remained on her as she opened it.
Forgive me.
Jane
Van Pelt's hand went to her mouth, and her eyes watered a little.
"Who's it from?" Rigsby could stand the suspense no longer.
"Jane," she said. "And I was so mean to him."
"He deserved it," Lisbon said.
Her three team members turned to her, startled by her presence.
"Yes he did," Cho agreed succinctly, shooting a disapproving glance at Rigsby, who remained sheepishly silent.
As she walked back toward her office, Lisbon was smiling to herself. Despite all of Jane's foibles—and they were innumerable—he was actually a very kind man. Good with pets and children. A loyal friend when it came down to it. And sexier than a man had the right to be. In many ways, great husband material. She stopped short in the middle of the hallway, a wave of something like panic washing over her. It was not a good idea to think of Jane in any kind of dependable role in her life. Hell, half the time he didn't even make it in to work on time. And she was certainly getting ahead of herself—two kisses, no matter how sweet, did not a fiancé make.
Easy, Teresa, she said to herself, taking a deep, calming breath.
"Excuse me, Agent Lisbon," said the mail cart guy, pausing before her since she was blocking the hallway.
"Oh, sorry," she replied in embarrassment. She stepped aside and took the few more steps to her office, shutting the door behind her. In a few hours she would be on a real date with Jane. Dancing. Talking. Maybe even kissing. Lisbon had stalked and even killed many criminals in her time. None of those times could she ever remember being as frightened as she was now.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Jane had been watching for Lisbon's car so that as soon as she pulled into the lot he went to his door. He was wearing a dark suit, pressed white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, but no vest. He'd taken special care with his hair, trying to make it a bit less unruly, even after the trim he'd indulged in that afternoon when he'd skipped out of work. He wanted to make a good impression, which was difficult when you were going out with a woman you'd seen nearly every day for the past four years. He was a little nervous, and his thoughts flew again to his wife.
"You'd like her, Angela," he'd said earlier, pausing to look in the mirror after he'd shaved.
He knew in his heart that this was true; his wife had shared the same kind of stubborn spunkiness that Lisbon had. They would have seen in each other kindred spirits, shared in the mutual exasperation they both experienced in dealing with him.
As he'd studied his reflection, noting the new lines on his face from years of grief and sleepless nights, he had the sudden feeling that Angela wouldn't want him to be unhappy. Oh, he'd justified to himself over the last five years that she was dead and gone for good, that she wasn't out there listening to him or advising him when he spoke to her sometimes. Intellectually, he knew this, but yet, he still kept talking to her as if she were listening. So when he felt peace at the prospect of getting more involved with Lisbon, he couldn't help attributing it at least partly to what he perceived was Angela's blessing from beyond, unlikely as that might be.
His hand went to his heart before he turned the knob to go out and meet Lisbon. He loved Angela—would always love Angela. But here waiting for him was Lisbon, whose kisses made him feel things he hadn't felt since he'd kissed his wife. He felt guilty for wanting her, but at the same time, he couldn't stop thinking about the even stronger feelings Lisbon had set free in him.
"I like her, Angela," he said to the empty room. "I like her a lot."
When his heart jumped with a confident feeling, he grasped the doorknob and went out to meet his date with a welcoming smile.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"I suppose you're still not going to let me drive," Jane said, from the open door of the passenger side.
"Of course not; you drive like a maniac," she said matter-of-factly.
He climbed inside and grinned as he buckled up. "I didn't know you'd been working on mind-reading, Lisbon. You know then, I presume, where we're going?"
He paused to take in her appearance. Her dress was the color of fine merlot, haltered and fitted in the bodice, then flowing to just above her knees. He saw in the faintness of the SUV's interior lights that her shoes matched her dress exactly, with low kitten heals perfect for dancing. His Lisbon had a penchant for stylish evening footwear. Her hair hung straight and smooth to just below her nape, and her lips were dark red. She was beautiful, and he felt pleased she'd obviously wanted to impress him too. He was impressed.
She was giving him the Lisbon glare of impatience, and he knew if she'd been standing she would be tapping her foot, maybe putting her hands on her hips. He grinned as he always did in the face of her irritation.
"You know where Tango is?"
She raised a surprised eyebrow. "Really?"
He nodded. He'd made reservations at a supper club with live music, where they played everything from old standards to current pop ballads. It was known for its highly romantic ambiance, where lovers went for an excuse to actually touch on the dance floor. Lisbon had never been, but she knew first-hand two couples who'd gotten engaged there.
"Well, okay then," she said shakily, and put the car in drive.
"You look amazing, by the way," he said softly, reaching out to touch her bare elbow just below where her black shawl had dropped from around her shoulders. She flushed with pretty color.
"Thank you. Did you get a haircut?" she asked belatedly.
"Only for you, my dear," he said in amusement.
He knew he wasn't usually concerned with appearances, putting off trims until he looked decidedly like a beach bum, and he rarely turned on the complimentary iron in his motel room. He took his suits to the cleaners, but only out of necessity; they'd shrink and lose their shape in the washer. He'd made sure the fashion-conscious egotist of his former life had died along with his wife. Therefore, Lisbon, being the great observer that she was, must fully appreciate his efforts that night.
"Well, you look really b—uh, nice yourself." She'd almost said beautiful, and looking at him from the corner of her eye, she wouldn't be far off.
Outside the club, Jane made Lisbon wait in the car while he went around to open the door for her. As she slid off the seat to the ground, her skirt rode up to her shapely thigh, and Jane's eyes widened in appreciation. He'd never seen her legs above the knee before, and Jane had always been a leg man.
"Lisbon," he blurted, "you've been holding out on me. Great gams," he said, deliberately using an old-fashioned sexist term.
"Oh, shut up," she said, taking his helping hand. But she was secretly thrilled he'd liked what he'd seen. He helped her readjust her shawl around her shoulders, then slipped his hand into hers as they walked into the club.
It was dark and romantic as advertised, and the hostess placed them in a candlelit booth near the dance floor. They both ordered steaks, and a crooner began singing an old torch song into the microphone. Alone at their table, Jane searched Lisbon's eyes.
"Dance with me," he repeated his words from his note.
She smiled softly and whispered, "Okay."
Jane took her hand again to lead her to the floor. He gave her a little twirl before pulling her into his arms, and she smiled with delight, slightly dizzy from the brief spinning, along with her heightened awareness of him, of his sensual warmth, of his spicy cologne. She held her breath as Jane's right hand firmly took her left, his left hand settling on her bare lower back. He pulled her close enough that he could indeed feel the pounding of her heart against his own chest. She rested her head on his shoulder and swayed against him to the music.
Jane was immediately suffused with her fragrance—roses and apples and something else distinctly Lisbon. Her skin was warm and soft beneath his hands, her hair like silk against his chin. He hummed the familiar old song under his breath and felt her answering smile as he caressed her, his hand sliding up and down her shapely back as she melted in his arms. It occurred to him that she couldn't possibly be wearing a bra under her dress, and he closed his eyes tightly against that tantalizing idea.
He felt his body heating, his pulse elevating at her nearness, and he couldn't resist pursing his lips against her temple in a kiss that lasted much longer than an affectionate peck. Things were progressing more quickly than he would have expected in such a public venue, and he felt a fine sheen of perspiration form on his forehead. Sensual images overtook his mind for the first time in years, and he envisioned standing behind her, his hot mouth moving over every inch of her straight spine as his hands reached around and—
He cleared his throat slightly and stepped away from her lest she feel just how strongly affected he was by her soft, lithe body undulating gently against him. She looked up at him askance, her eyes wide with slight confusion before he closed the space between them again and kissed her mouth almost savagely. They forgot where they were, that once again they were putting on a public show as their mouths fused together, their tongues tangling, the fire between them so intense he could swear he could smell smoke.
Lisbon made a slight noise from her throat, her hands going to his shoulders to try to extricate herself from his passionate embrace. He moved the attention of his lips to her cheek, then her neck, his hands still busy on her bare back.
"Jane," she managed, over her erratic breathing. "Fire…"
Yes, he thought through his sensual haze. Fire. Heat. Smoke. Smoke?
At that very instant, a fire alarm tore loudly through the club, and Jane raised his head as the ambiance was ruined by the harsh sounds of warning.
The singer announced that they should all proceed calmly to the nearest exit, that he was certain there wasn't anything to be worried about. The lights went up, nearly blinding the patrons after the dimness of the mood lighting. Jane noted Lisbon's swollen lips and flushed cheeks, wondering if he looked much the same. All around them, the other dancers and diners were either complaining or laughing about the situation, up until the moment the fire sprinklers began pouring down upon them. Then, everyone was yelling in shared protest. The rush to the door was no longer so calm, and Jane reached down to help a lady who had tripped in the crush.
"Thanks!" she yelled over the sounds of screaming and spraying water.
After a quick stop at their table to retrieve her shawl and small purse, Jane and Lisbon moved along with the steady stream of patrons heading toward the front door. Jane had the odd notion that they were like salmon heading up river to spawn, the continued flow of water only adding to the image.
Lisbon felt cold water rolling down her back, felt it flattening her hair and plastering her dress to her body in a way too embarrassing to look down and acknowledge. She held tightly to Jane's wet hand, and when she looked up at him, she saw that his carefully combed hair was dripping down into his face, and he was grinning as mischievously as if he'd been the one to pull the fire alarm. She too was struck with the humor of the situation, and she laughed aloud, her eyes sparkling merrily.
Finally, they were outside, the cold night air hitting their wet bodies. Jane removed his jacket, which was still dry on the inside, draping it over her shoulders as she looked at him in appreciation, but not before she noticed the spark of appreciation in his eyes at what her clinging dress was clearly outlining. In the distance, they heard the sound of an approaching fire engine, but no one was waiting around to see if the place could be saved as they hustled to their vehicles. Black smoke was pouring from the back of the building, a fire likely having started in the kitchen.
"Someone must have felt we needed the hose turned on us," Jane said dryly—the only thing about him that was dry—as they reached the SUV. She blushed anew at how true that statement was. They'd been practically making love on the dance floor.
"Good Lord," she exclaimed in exasperation, allowing him to help her back into the driver's seat. "Are we destined to only have disastrous dates? We've obviously made someone up there very unhappy with us."
She looked at Jane, realizing how what she'd said might be interpreted. She believed in Heaven, believed that loved ones who had passed looked down at them and watched how they lived their lives, maybe even acting as guardian angels. Jane still stood in the open doorway of the driver's side and he met her eyes, his softening at her obvious distress. He took her damp hand in his, bringing it to his lips.
"No one's looking down on us unhappily, Lisbon," he said softly. "On the contrary, if there is anyone looking at us at all, I think they are very happy with what they're seeing. How could they not be?"
He kissed her hand again, then closed the door on her surprised expression.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Lisbon's apartment was closer, so they went inside with the idea that they weren't ending their date, only changing the venue. She gave him a towel and a gray sweat suit her brother had left last time he and her niece had visited, before excusing herself to take a quick, hot shower. She'd caught a chill and couldn't stop shivering.
As Jane dried off and changed in Lisbon's bedroom, he looked around curiously. Her bed was made with a simple down comforter covered in a sage green duvet. The bedside table held a functional lamp and alarm clock with not even a book or magazine. This was a space clearly reserved for sleeping only. He could see into her open closet, that it housed her usual uniform of slacks, jeans, unadorned tops and blazer jackets. He smiled at the incongruous row of expensive high heels and sandals on the floor beneath.
On her dresser were pictures of her brothers and their families, along with one of her parents' wedding. He squinted at the early seventies photo, how Lisbon was the spitting image of her mother, how her father seemed happy to be with his new wife. He wondered if they would have liked him, would have thought him too damaged to be with their daughter. Perhaps he was, but he was hooked now, and he didn't see himself giving up on what he and Lisbon could have together, if he didn't screw things up. When Jane wanted something, he knew he was like a dog with a bone. The irony of that simile was not lost on him, and he chuckled as he went into Lisbon's kitchen to make them both a pot of tea.
When he heard the water in the bathroom turn off, he stiffened, imagining Lisbon naked with just a few walls between them, imagined those killer thighs of hers wrapped around him as they moved together beneath that practical comforter in the next room. He could certainly think of more ways to use that bed than just sleeping. Jane promptly scalded his mouth with hot tea. Five years of celibacy was suddenly catching up with him, and if he didn't take it easy, take this thing slowly, he might end up being a huge disappointment to her. He gingerly took another sip from Lisbon's CBI mug.
A/N: Can't these poor kids ever catch a break?
Okay, next chapter is going to veer decidedly into the "M" category, so be warned, lol. And I foresee one, maybe two more chapters left to go in the whole story. Thanks to those who keep reading and reviewing. I love to hear your opinions!
For those who are reading my two-part episode tag for "My Bloody Valentine," I should have part two posted by the end of the week. Looking forward to seeing you there, too!
