This one took a while to be posted I know. But in my own defence it is a bit longer than the other chapters so far, so I hope I'm forgiven.
Thank you; thank you for all the reviews! Over 60! That's more than I've ever had. You guys are wonderful.
It jumps back and forth in POVs a lot but each change is marked in bold.
I worked hard on this one, and I really hope you enjoy it.
Here we have it…the party!
Lisbon POV
Seriously, why does he do these things to me?
Jane POV
I knew this undercover thing was a good idea. I've managed to get a kiss in already, and we haven't even started yet.
Sure it was only a kiss on the hand, but one must celebrate the small victories, right?
But at the same time, I feel the slightest bit disappointed.
I know what I'd really like to be kissing, and it sure as hell isn't her hand.
There's a silence for a few beats.
"Come on," she says, presently. "Let's get this over with."
"OK," I smile at her encouragingly, and I'm pleased to see her smile back. "Just follow my lead."
We stroll casually over to the security guard I picked out earlier. He's a lot bigger up close.
"Too bad we don't have your taser gun this time," I mutter to Lisbon. She laughs.
"Evening folks." He doesn't smile. "Your invitation?"
"I'm afraid we don't have it. But we're on the list."
"Yeah, like I haven't heard that one before. Step aside please."
"No seriously, we're on the list."
"Fine. Your name?"
"Mark Ackerman," I say confidently.
I feel Lisbon tense up beside me, but she doesn't say anything.
"Ackerman, Ackerman," The guard runs his finger down the list he's holding and places a check next to my new pseudonym.
"And you, miss?"
Lisbon opens her mouth, but I beat her to it.
"My girlfriend, Justine Lyons."
She looks around at me in outrage. In hindsight, it might have been wise to clue her in on this plan as she looks like she might lose control at any moment and blow our cover.
Oh, who am I kidding? She'd never have allowed it.
Lisbon POV
Oh no. No, no. He did not just do that. He is not passing me off as the murder victim. Surely I must have misheard, even Jane wouldn't dare sink that low.
"It's spelt L-Y-O-N-S," he's saying helpfully to the guard, determinedly avoiding my gaze.
Conning people is one thing, it's just a means to an end, but I can't be party to this blatant disrespect for a young girl who has only just passed away. The hell with Jane and his stupid plan.
"Actually, my name isn't-"
Jane quickly snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me to his side.
"It's all right sweetheart. I know you're getting cold, but we'll be inside soon."
The guard is still consulting his list, so I try to wrench myself away from him. His grip is surprisingly strong.
"Baby, relax," Jane coos, pressing a firm kiss to my temple. "We're fine. Everything's fine."
Having him this close is starting to have its usual effect on me and I can feel my resolve beginning to weaken slightly.
But I challenge any woman to be able to keep her head with Patrick Jane wrapped around her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Take it from me; it's an impossible task.
"OK Miss Lyons, you're good to go. Head on through."
Jane thanks him and gently tugs at my hand so I'll follow him through the ornate doors into the house.
Jane POV
I think that went rather well. We managed to get inside without having to resort to hypnosis, which is always a good thing.
I carefully glance over at Lisbon. At the moment, she's too shell-shocked to react to what I've done, but if I know Lisbon, she'll be recovering herself very soon. It takes a lot to blindside her and it never lasts long.
Ah, here we go. The somewhat dazed look in her eyes is gradually being replaced by the usual steely glint she always gets when she's about to rake me over the coals.
And in three, two, one…
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Fortunately, she chooses to hiss at me like an angry cobra, rather than shout. Once she starts on a rampage, she can go on for hours and we really don't have time for that right now.
"You gave me the dead girl's name?" she asks incredulously.
"So?" I counter, defensively. "I knew her name would've been on the guest list and I just figured that nobody would have bothered to take it off. Nobody will know; it's not like she's going to rise from the grave and start sampling the hors d oeuvres or anything."
"That's not funny."
"Everything can be funny. It's all in the interpretation."
"Couldn't you have found some other way to get us in?"
"Lisbon, she's dead. I really don't think she's going to mind that much."
"Well, I do."
Oh no. She actually sounds upset. An uncomfortable feeling of guilt washes over me as I realize that once again, without meaning to, I have managed to cause her pain.
"Lisbon, I'm sorry."
When in doubt, start apologizing.
"No you're not." There's a harsh tinge to her voice that wasn't there before.
"I don't regret what I said," I clarify. "But I am truly sorry that it upset you."
Silence.
For the second time tonight, I take her hand in mine and hold it tight.
"It has never been my intention to hurt you in any way. Can you believe that?"
It feels like an eternity, but she finally nods.
I glance at the clock on the wall. It's 9:30. "I think it'll be easier if we split up. If I find out anything interesting, I'll come and find you."
"Right." I can see her mentally preparing herself for the task at hand. I know she hates big glitzy events like these and I can tell she always feels like she doesn't belong.
I want to say something encouraging, but decide against it. She'll just think I'm patronizing her.
She extracts her hand from mine and fixes me with a stern look.
"Try to stay out of trouble, won't you?"
"I'll be an angel. Promise."
"Good. I'd hate to make you look bad by having to come save your neck…again."
I can't help but scoff.
"And how pray tell, would you do that my dear? Threaten to kick them in the ass with your stiletto heel?"
"I'll just ask them very, very nicely Jane."
"Without your badge and gun, your opinion probably won't carry that much weight."
That wonderfully sexy smirk crosses her face.
"Who says I don't have them?"
I cast a dubious eye over her petite form, clad in the skin-tight red dress. There's no way she could conceal a badge under there, let alone a gun.
"Liar," I accuse, confidently.
Her smile doesn't falter. "Am I?"
Suddenly I'm not so sure. I can read Lisbon better than anyone and right now all her body language indicates she's telling the truth.
I suppose I shouldn't be all that surprised that she managed to smuggle her gun in here. Lisbon is the type of cop who feels almost naked without a weapon.
But where in the hell has she put it?
That's a very interesting thought. Not to mention, kind of a turn-on.
Don't think about it. Don't think about it. She'll know, and she'll hold it over me until the end of time.
Oh crap. She's looking at me with that knowing look in her eye, as if she can read my thoughts.
I have to say, I'm not all that comfortable with this, now the shoe's on the other foot. I prefer it when she leaves the mind games to me.
"I'm going in," she purrs. "See you later."
She turns around and saunters towards the brightly lit room where the party is. She slips through the door and is swallowed up by the crowd.
I take a long, deep breath.
One way or another, that woman is going to be the death of me.
Lisbon POV
There's something very gratifying about toying with Patrick Jane and winning. I just couldn't resist winding him up a little.
He'll be so disappointed when I tell him it's in my ankle holster. Ha.
Jane POV
One step into the room, and I'm reminded of how much I hated schmoozing while I was working the 'psychic' scam. Everywhere I turn, there's another little cluster of vapid, self-impressed people twittering away to one another.
To my left, some guy with sideburns is bragging about the 'killing' he made on the stock market today. To my right, a woman in a black dress that's showing way too much cleavage is gossiping to her friends about how the lady standing across from them is cheating on her husband with the gardener.
If I had to bet, I'd the say the one in black is probably sleeping with him herself.
A waitress passes by holding a tray laden with champagne flutes. I snatch one off it and take a sip as I amble casually towards the bar.
At the end of the bar, there's a small group of men, each nursing a glass of what appears to be scotch and conversing in low voices. I claim a barstool just close enough that I can overhear what they're saying.
"Please. Mackenzie Watson is a pushover. All I'll have to do is buy her a drink and she'll be mine for the night."
The familiar name piques my interest.
"Think you're pretty good, don't you?" I remark loudly and the four of them turn around to face me.
"You got a problem?" asks the man who was talking about Mackenzie.
"You're all talk. I'd bet everything I own that you couldn't get a single woman in this room to even speak to you."
The other three all snort into their scotch and he glares at them.
"I'd watch my mouth if I were you, pretty boy," he snarls.
"Why? What are you going to do about it?"
"Who the hell are you, anyway?" he demands to know.
"I'm Patrick."
"Mitch. And that's Eric, Leon and Darren." Each of the others raises their glass as he says their names.
"Nice to meet you all. As I was saying, if you can convince any woman in here to give you the time of day, I'd be extremely surprised."
Mitch draws himself up to his full (and considerable) height. This is usually about the time in interrogations when I deftly nip behind Rigsby and Cho, so I can continue prodding without any risk of harm to myself, but tonight I am riding solo.
"Is that a challenge, Patrick?"
"Obviously you're taking it as one."
"Damn right I am. Give me ten minutes and I'll be scoring with any of these ladies."
"Tell you what, let's make a little game out of it. Both of us, one woman, five minutes each. First one to get her to give him her number wins."
Mitch grins broadly and rubs his hands together eagerly. "Feels like I'm in high school again! You're on."
"Excellent. OK, I win and you give me the dirt on everybody here. I'm new to the area and I need to know what I'm letting myself in for."
"Fine. I win, and drinks are on you for the rest of the night."
"Done."
We shake on it as solemnly as if we've just signed an international peace declaration.
I turn to Eric, Leon and Darren.
"Gentlemen, in the interest of fairness, I think you should select the target."
Beaming, the three of them scan the crowd for a potential mark. I calmly finish off my champagne. This is going to be easy. I'll flash a smile, turn on the charm and have the poor woman under my spell in about thirty seconds flat. Then maybe I can find out something pertinent to the case.
"Alright we've got her," Eric announces. "The little brunette at the table over there, in the smokin' red dress." Discreetly, he gestures towards her.
My gaze follows the direction of his hand.
I think I feel my heart stop when I see her.
Oh Jesus no. This can't be happening. Of all the women in this room they chose…Lisbon.
"Nice choice, guys" Mitch praises them. "She is tasty."
A wave of jealousy, far stronger than I ever experienced with McKay washes over me as he makes a show of checking her out. If he weren't so freakishly large, I would probably punch him right now. Just the thought of him running his hands all over her is enough to send me halfway to insanity.
I hope she really does have that gun stashed away somewhere. That might stop him his tracks.
I don't trust myself to speak so I just nod my assent to the plan. I can't back out now. It'll just make them suspicious.
Mitch gulps down the last of his scotch. "I'll go first."
Assuredly, he starts to make his way across the crowded dance floor, towards her. Everything about him, his facial expression, his gait, paints the picture of the ruthless predator going in for the kill.
I know Lisbon, and she can't stand smug, stuck-up guys like him, but with every step he takes in her direction, I have to wrestle down the urge to run over there and whisk her away somewhere far away from him, and anyone else who might think of trying it on with her.
She came to this event with me, and by extension that makes her mine.
I can just see the look on her face if I ever was stupid enough to say that out loud.
Lisbon POV
I'm sitting alone at a table counting down the minutes until this nightmare is over. Since I'm officially on duty I can't drink and so far I've had no luck finding out anything about the case. As I suspected, this has all been one big waste of time.
There's a man coming towards me with a look in his eyes that I know well. It's the same look that Jane gets when he's on a mission.
"Hey gorgeous. This seat taken?"
His oily voice puts me off right away as well as the insincere endearment. I don't allow anyone, not even boyfriends, to give me pet names, and that goes double for complete strangers.
There is but one glaring exception to this rule. For some reason, whenever Jane call me things like 'darling' or 'baby,' it inspires nothing more than a little frisson of pleasure. But as for this guy, lacking Jane's easy charm and quite frankly, not nearly as nice to look at, I feel a mixture of revulsion and anger. Who does he think he is? He doesn't even know me.
I'm trying to think of a way to turn him down politely, when he unceremoniously drops into the seat beside me.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
With effort, I twist the corners of my mouth up into an almost smile.
"No thanks. I'm good." Short, monosyllabic words. Hopefully that'll get the point across.
The man seems unperturbed. He grins flirtatiously at me. "A pretty little thing such as yourself shouldn't be sitting alone, you know."
Pretty little thing? Ugh. This guy has no idea.
"I'm sorry. You are?"
A little more aggression colours my tone than I intended but I doubt he's even noticed.
"I'll be whoever you want me to be, sweet thing. But you can call me Mitch." He reaches across the table for my hand, but with lightning speed I snatch it away and rest it on my lap.
"Mitch. Right."
"And what's your name?"
"Teresa," I wasn't about to be Justine.
"Beautiful. It suits you." He reaches for me again, this time, grabbing for my arm. There is no hesitance to his touch, no concern as to how I might react. This is a man that takes what he wants, when he wants it and refuses to be denied. Well, that ends now.
Forcefully, I push his hand away, and he seems a little surprised. He glares at me like a master would look at a misbehaving dog while he scolded it for disobedience.
I swear if that hand wanders any more, I'll impale it on the steak knife that's resting temptingly close to me.
I look over the top of his head, searching for Jane. Now would be a really good time for a disaster.
Jane POV
It's been two minutes since he went over there and I've been watching them both like a hawk. I can tell he's approaching her completely the wrong way. She keeps jerking away from him whenever he tries to touch her. But he's not getting the hint.
Fool. Of course he wouldn't understand that he can't just force her into acquiescence like the brainless bimbos he usually dates. She's a smart, confident, independent woman and she won't be dragged into something she doesn't want to do. It's one of the things I love most about her.
Two minutes and thirty seconds. If the clock were moving any slower it'd be going backwards and it's like a punch in the stomach every time he lays a hand on her, even though she's certainly not reciprocating.
Three minutes. I can see his patience is beginning to wear thin. His jaw is set in frustration and he keeps clenching and unclenching his fists under the table.
Lisbon hasn't given one inch, but she keeps looking around the room for something, and I can tell she's feeling a little anxious.
Four minutes and forty-five seconds. I proceed slowly across the dance floor to where they're sitting and at five minutes precisely, I tap her on the shoulder.
"May I cut in?"
Lisbon POV
I don't think I've ever been more pleased to see my consultant then right now. He leaves his hand on my shoulder briefly, and gently squeezes it. It's an unspoken gesture of support and the tender caress sets my heart racing. His touch is gentle, and unassuming and couldn't be more different to Mitch's.
"Would you like to dance?" he asks.
I nod vigorously, glad for the excuse to abandon Mitch who has been watching our interaction with dissatisfaction. Jane takes my hand in his and leads me out into the middle of the floor.
"Are you OK?" he enquires quietly, barely audible over the music.
"Fine. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because you just spent the last five minutes being hit on by King Kong's cousin."
We both smirk.
"What, were you timing it or something?"
I'm expecting an automatic denial, but he says nothing. Weird.
The music changes from an up-tempo song to a slow, dreamy waltz. As fluidly as if we're performing a choreographed routine, Jane draws me in closer. I lay my head on his shoulder and we drift through the song, and the one that follows it.
It suddenly strikes me that we must look very intimate for a couple that have only just met, but I'm so contented I can't bring myself to care just now. It's been a long time since anyone has ever just held me like this. I had no idea how much I missed it.
A dark haired, heavyset man passes by us on his way to the bathroom.
"How's it going?" he asks of Jane.
"I think I'm winning," he responds, grinning at the guy. "Oh Teresa, this is Leon, a new friend of mine."
"Ma'am," he greets me, smiling. He looks again to Jane. "Keep it up, Patrick."
"Will do."
Leon claps Jane on the shoulder and continues on.
I'm almost dying of curiosity.
"Winning?" I ask. "Winning what?"
"Oh, I made a bet with that guy Mitch, that I could seduce you before he could." He says it with the air of someone observing that the sky is blue or that one plus one equals two.
"You did what?"
The warm, fuzzy feelings are replaced by a white-hot anger. I don't care if it'll blow our cover. I'm going to rip his head off with my bare hands. How dare he treat me as if I'm collateral on a poker game!
It doesn't take him long to sense my change in mood and he hastily tries to smooth things over.
"Don't worry, it's all part of the plan."
"The plan? You set that jerk on me and thought it'd be OK if you told me it was all part of the plan?"
"Well it is. All you have do is make it look like you're giving me your phone number and I win."
"And what's the grand prize?"
"Inside information on what makes these people tick. It'll help us with our investigation."
"I don't care if they promised you a written confession of guilt, DNA evidence and ten priests as independent witnesses. I'm your supervising agent, not a bargaining chip!"
People's heads are starting to turn, as I'm not bothering to keep my voice low.
"Lisbon tonight you are neither of those things. Tonight you are the reason every other man here is thinking about murdering me."
"I'd put money on it that someone seriously considers murdering you wherever you go, you're that annoying. I'm an innocent bystander."
"They're all thinking 'how did that lucky bastard land himself the most beautiful woman in the room?'"
I give him a hard shot to the shoulder. He drops my hand and rubs the spot where I hit him.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"Don't even try to charm your way out of this one, jackass. I am going to cause you pain in places you didn't even know you had." The last part comes out as a low growl.
Jane POV
Oh, damn. She's really pissed. I wouldn't put it past her to thoroughly kick my ass right here on the dancefloor. Honestly, it's not like I offered her up as a mail-order bride or something.
I consider running this line of reasoning by her, but in the interest of preserving my own life, I think I'll refrain.
I think a little damage control is required. She's glaring at me like a tigress about to pounce and not the good kind of pouncing either, but the kind that leaves the antelope as nothing more than a bloody carcass on the jungle floor.
And I don't want to get blood on this tux. It was expensive.
"Lisbon, you have every right to be angry," I begin in my most calming, rational voice. "But do you think you could hold your rage in until we can adjourn to a slightly more private area? People are staring."
And indeed they are. The couples nearest to us have stopped dancing completely and are following the conversation with enthusiasm. Others are shuffling from foot to foot to try and make it look like they're not hanging on to every word. Across the room, I see Mitch, fresh glass of scotch in hand, looking like he's having the time of his life.
When she fully appreciates the scene that we're causing, Lisbon seems to come to herself. She nods briskly and I quickly lead her away to a small cloakroom I spotted as we came in.
She turns to me, hands firmly planted on hips. For such a small woman she sure knows how to exude power. I wonder if that trait carries over into all aspects of her life…
Whoa, whoa, whoa. So not the time to be going down that path!
"You have thirty seconds to explain yourself, or I start removing appendages from your body. And I won't be starting with your fingers."
She's eyeing me with the same icy glare she bestows on people in the interrogation room. And that's usually about the time they decide to come clean.
I don't know how she can be both terrifying and sexy as hell at the same time, but somehow she manages it.
"Look, it wasn't supposed to turn out this way. The idea was to pick some random woman and see who was the first to get her phone number. That's it, I swear."
"And the random woman just happened to be me, right?" She sounds doubtful.
"Right. I never dreamed that you'd be the one they picked out and by the time they did, it was too late to back out."
"Do you often go around treating women like targets?"
"No, but Mitch obviously does. The whole point of the stupid bet was to take him down a peg. Face it, the man's a pig."
She says nothing, but the deep frown line in her forehead seems to relax just a little. I'll take that as an agreement.
"But he's useful. He's the kind of guy who sees and knows everything. If there's anything more we can find out about our murder, he's the one to ask."
She breathes in. Out.
"And you're certain about this?"
"Positive."
"I just know I'm going to regret this," she murmurs to herself. "OK. What do we have to do?"
Lisbon POV
I'm still not happy about this, and Jane I will be having stern words when we get back to the CBI but for now all I can do is go with the flow. Oh, what I wouldn't give to be at home with a nice cabernet and a movie.
Jane pulls out his cell phone. "We've been in here about five minutes. That's long enough."
"To do what?" I'm dreading the answer.
"Why, to ravage each other in a fit of passion," he says, putting his phone back into his pocket. "Theoretically of course."
"And why in God's name would we be doing that?"
Any other day, the thought would be extremely tempting, but I'm still too mad at him to fantasize about that.
"Well we need some excuse for running off like that, and if we want to fool Mitch we're going to have to at least pretend we like each other."
"I'm not that good an actor. In fact I think even an Oscar winner would struggle with that role." I take spiteful pleasure in the way he slightly recoils.
"Ouch. Not nice."
"You deserve it."
"Maybe so, but it doesn't numb the pain."
He slowly closes in on me so I'm pressed up against the coats. "I still have my gun, you know," I remind him.
"Don't fret. We just have to set the scene a little."
"That we've been making out in a closet?"
"It won't take long."
He reaches out with both hands and runs them through my hair, tousling it about so there are flyaways everywhere and the parting is slightly off centre. He undoes his bowtie and lets it hang loose around his neck, and unbuttons the top of his shirt and fiddles with his collar until it's sitting all crooked.
Very slowly, his hand approaches my face and he gently runs his thumb across my lips until it's stained with my lipstick that he smears onto his collar.
"Perfect. Now when we get out there, head straight for the ladies, as if you're embarrassed by what's happened and need to freshen up."
"No arguments here."
"When you come out we'll have a little chat to our friend, Mitch."
I nod. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can go home.
"Lisbon, one last thing."
There's a wild kind of look in his eyes as he grabs me by the hand and pulls me towards him. I don't have time to react as our lips meet for the first time. It starts innocently enough, a mere peck on the lips, but my body responds without me meaning it to. Before long, we are leaning up against the cloakroom wall, entangled in a passionate embrace.
My brain is screaming at me to push him away but it seems my body refuses to obey. This is wrong, so very wrong but I just can't make it end. Perhaps because when it ends I'll have to think about what I'm doing, instead of living in this blissful oblivion with nothing but his lips and mine and all the rules and the complications so far away.
"Jane…" I somehow manage to mumble and he tears his lips from mine.
"When Mitch was with you, it was killing me the whole time. I shouldn't have put you through that. I'm so sorry."
He begins kissing his way down my neck, and it is pleasure like I have never known before. I bite my lip to keep the moans from escaping and desperately attempt to clear my head.
This can't go on. Every shred of self-control is disappearing. As much as I don't want to, I have to stop.
I give him a gentle push and he instantly obeys the pressure. Our eyes open as the enormity of what has just happened hangs over us like a dense cloud. There is no sound but for our frantic breathing.
Something has snapped inside of Jane as he sinks to the floor, head in his hands. I remain standing, leaning against the wall for support.
"I'm sorry." His voice sounds hollow, like a ghost.
"It's OK."
He looks up to me, pleadingly. "I don't know what came over me."
"It's OK."
That's about as much conversation as I can manage.
Jane POV
One second. A lapse in control for one second, and I've gone and done something I can't take back. I've imagined what kissing her would be like, but to actually experience it is nothing short of mind-blowing. Part of me is euphoric and the others are screaming of betrayal and guilt. Images of my wife and images of Lisbon flash through my mind and meld into one.
I have to get my head together. We still have a job to do after all, even though my whole sense of self is crumbling around me.
"We should get out there."
She nods.
"I'm sorry about that. Just for authenticity, you know."
"Authenticity. Of course."
We both know that we're teetering over the threshold of a new stage in our relationship, but neither of us are ready to take the leap. The wheels have been set in motion, but we will hold them back as long as we can, even if it kills us. So we will grasp at any excuse that what just happened means nothing and that nothing has changed.
But my mind, which was once so black and white, is now tinged with grey. But I will not acknowledge it. I can't. Neither of us can.
I hold the door open and she follows me out into the bright lights and music, where we might be able to hide away from what we have done.
Got a bit angsty at the end didn't it? I know it's supposed to be a fluffy fic, but I thought this chapter called for a bit of deeper reflection.
Next time, we learn more about the case and the repercussions of the kiss will be felt.
