A/N - Thanks again for all your kind words! Once again, I'm overwhelmed by your support for this silly little story. Thank you.

Cupcake warning in this chapter. We'll just blame Joe's stupidity on his diet.

All the best, J.


Chapter 7 – Good Vibrations

Morelli looked at his plate, and made a face. "Chili dogs again?"

"You won't eat any of the other things I've made," I snarled.

He snorted. "That's because everything else you've made was crap."

I very nearly clocked him with the chili pot. "You just wouldn't eat them because they have beans in them."

He gave me a look. "The chicken stirfry you made yesterday did not have beans in it. It had burnt chicken and vegetables. And the marinara sauce you made the night before was like eating tomato paste."

I felt my hand tighten on the spoon I was holding. Unfortunately, he was right. Even with Ella's simple recipes, my cooking was shit. The only thing I could make that tasted like food was the chili cheese dogs, and I was getting tired of them, too. Not that I was going to tell Morelli that.

"Well, why don't you cook something for us then?" I snapped.

"I did," he said. He looked angry. "You wouldn't eat it."

"That's because I'm not allowed to have frozen waffles, syrup and beer!"

Morelli shrugged as if to say, 'details', and then put his plate on the floor. Bob instantly dove for it, and wolfed down the chili dogs.

Now I was really mad. "I made those for you! Bob's already had his share!"

He stood up from the couch, looking all mad and dangerous. "I'm not eating another soy wiener – ever again."

"Fine," I said. "Then you can make your own dinner – in your own house. And take your farting dog with you!"

Bob looked between me and Morelli and whined. He had half a weenie hanging out of his mouth. Morelli and I looked at Bob, and then looked at each other.

Morelli actually had the nerve to smile. "Now look what you've done," he said. "You've upset the kid."

"You started it." And I stuck my tongue out at him for good measure.

Morelli and I had been snapping at each other for days now. My cooking may have been adding to his general malaise, but I was pretty sure that he was just grouchy because he hadn't had a meatball sub in awhile. My grumpiness was also diet related, but it wasn't all due to lack of sugar; I wasn't getting my daily dose of Ranger. He had been called out of town on business, and no one knew when he was going to get back.

It was funny that I missed him so much. I sure didn't miss Morelli this badly when he was out of town last month, and so far, Ranger had only been gone four days.

I turned my back on Morelli, and went into the kitchen to dump the remaining chili in the trash. Morelli somehow took that to mean the fight was over, and that I wanted him to be all lovey-dovey. I tell you, when the boy was wrong, he was really, really wrong. But I let him put his arms around me anyway, because I didn't want to be charged with assaulting a police officer.

"Maybe you should take some cooking lessons or something."

I tensed in his arms. "What?"

"Have you thought about asking your mom for help? She makes a nice spread."

"Mom also uses half a pound of butter in the mashed potatoes," I growled. "There is no such thing as a low cholesterol meal at her house." Or low sugar. Mom hadn't understood why I couldn't eat dessert any more. She though smaller portions would be okay – she couldn't get that no portion was the only appropriate portion for me now. That, coupled with the fact that Joe could only find broccoli to eat there, meant we no longer attended the Friday night dinners. Which also meant mom was no longer talking to us.

"Well, maybe my mom could help," he said. "She could teach you a few things. Now she's a great cook."

I had a full out body shudder. "I am not taking cooking lessons from your mother! My cooking is fine!" Except Morelli and I were both starving on it, or getting indigestion from it.

Morelli sighed, one of those long suffering sighs that suggested I was stubborn. Then his arms tightened around me. "I have an idea," he said. "Let's order in a pizza."

His suggestion surprised me; by the tone of his voice, I thought he was about to offer me sex. I would have turned down the sex, but pizza… Ooh… Melted cheese and fatty sausage…

I shook my head to clear the dirty thoughts away. "No. We're not allowed."

"Come on," he said, his voice like velvet in my ear. "We've been on this diet for two weeks now. That's better than most people would manage, and you know it."

He was probably right. And to be honest, there was no reason why I couldn't eat the pizza – it wasn't like it was loaded in sugar, after all. Except I'd be trading one evil for another. I thought of Ranger, and shook my head. "No."

Morelli kissed my ear, and my neck. "You know you want it. Think of it… Lots of full fat cheese… thick, greasy sausage… a nice, chewy crust…"

I moaned; I couldn't help it. "We shouldn't…" I said.

He knew I was caving. He pulled me in closer to him. "No one will know," he whispered. "It'll just be this one time, I swear."

Once again I thought of Ranger. He'd know, even if I hid in the closet and ate the pizza there. I sighed. "I can't," I said to Morelli, "and you shouldn't either."

Morelli's frustrations came to a head. He let go of me and started arm waving. "Damn it, Steph, the doctors expect us to cheat! That's why they set the bar so high!"

I turned around and looked him directly in the eye. "No."

Joe made an angry sound, and made straight for the front hall.

"Where are you going?"

He shoved his feet into his shoes. "To eat pizza. Then I'm going to eat a bucket of chicken."

"What? No! You can't!"

"I can, and I will." He was already zipping himself into his coat. "I'm going to eat the whole bucket, wings included. Hell, I might even eat the bucket itself. If I don't get some grease into me soon, I'm going to go nuts."

I grabbed his arm. "Joe, please! You've done so well so far! Don't give up now!"

What I was really saying was, 'Don't cheat, because if you do I'm going to cheat too.' And I probably would. If he left now and went on a binge, I'd be furious – furious that he was having a decent meal and I wasn't. I'd feel like I was entitled to the same thing, and I'd end up shoving doughnuts and birthday cake in my face.

If only Ranger was here. He would have helped me through this. He'd been nothing but supportive since I told him I was getting tested. But he wasn't here now, which meant I'd just have to deal with this on my own.

I was doomed.

"I tell you what," I said, "we'll order in Chinese. We can have rice, and veggies - "

"We've already had that three nights this week," Morelli said.

I was reaching now. "We'll have sex!"

He gave me a 'nice try' smile. "We were going to have that anyway."

"After you insulted my cooking? Fat chance, mister!"

His face darkened. "Are you coming or what?"

I folded my arms and assumed a defiant stance. "No."

"Fine. Come on, Bob – let's go get some chicken." And he left. Bob, the traitor, trotted after him, looking guilty.

I stared at the door for a good minute after he left. I couldn't believe that I had just been abandoned for some fried wings, boobs, and thighs. I stormed to the freezer, looking for cookie dough. The cookie dough was, of course, long gone. Instead I found the carton of unsweetened plain yogurt that was supposed to be my replacement for ice cream. It was frozen solid and bent the spoon. The little I got out tasted terrible, nothing like ice cream. I threw it into the garbage can and started to pace.

It's not like I needed Morelli. I mean, he wasn't offering me any support on my diet. He seemed to believe that his affliction was my affliction, and gave no thought to my suffering versus his suffering. So, really, why was I hanging around him? He was miserable and unappreciative.

Okay, maybe the sex had helped curb some of my sugar hormones, but lately Morelli's performance in the bedroom had been subpar, for Morelli. Maybe it was the stress of the diet, or maybe the lite beer was kicking in. Whatever it was, my sugar substitute wasn't up to snuff; I found myself craving something sugary more than ever. I couldn't even drive by the Tasty Pastry any more for fear that I would break in and obliterate the display cases.

I was still pacing at eleven, hating Morelli more than was probably fair. I went to bed and tossed and turned for what felt like hours. I needed a Tastykake, or a doughnut. Or sex. Sex would be good too. But there was no way in hell I was calling Morelli in to service me; if he went through with his promise to eat fried chicken, he'd be all soft and warm and smelling of grease, and that would be the end of the diet for sure.

Then I remembered the sex toys I'd bought when trying to capture Caroline Scarzolli from Pleasure Treasures. I still had them somewhere. I had been tempted to pull them out during my better days with Joe, just to have a little fun, but had chickened out. After all, good Burg girls didn't use marital aids. I was even too embarrassed to use them solo. But desperate times called for desperate measures. I rummaged through my closet, and finally found the bag hidden under a sweater on the top shelf.

I placed the bag on the bed, and covered it with a blanket. Then I went through the entire apartment and closed all the drapes and turned out all the lights. I put a towel over Rex's aquarium. I turned on the television to drown out any, um, noises. I grabbed my Maglite, went into the bedroom, and shut the door. Then I ducked under the blanket and turned on the flashlight. I felt like a ten year old trying to read in bed after lights out at camp.

The beam of the flashlight reflected off the Pleasures Treasures bag. I stared at it for the longest time. Then I took a deep breath, and dumped the contents onto the mattress.

I took one look at the Herbert Horsecock dildo, and put it aside. There was no way in hell I was using that. It was large enough to prop open a fire door. I wasn't sure why I had kept it. Probably because I wasn't sure how to get rid of it. It had never been used, but it wasn't like I could drop it off at the Salvation Army for them to sell in their thrift store. I decided I'd disguise it in duct tape, and put it in the dumpster behind the bond's office. That way, if anyone found it, they'd just think it was Vinnie's.

The massage oils were also out – they were indicative to solo performances. Looking at them also reminded me of Ranger, and how he had seemed to like them. I remember how he sampled some from my hand. Just thinking about his tongue touching my palm made it tingle. I wiped away a bit of drool that had collected in the corner of my mouth, and put the oils back in the bag.

I looked at the back of the DVD Lula recommended, and shuddered. Nope, nope, nope. No 'Big Boys' for me. That left me the Lady Workhorse personal massager. I picked it up, and just held it for awhile. Ranger had liked this too, if I remembered correctly. I turned on the switch, and jumped when it started to bounce around violently in my hand. Gentle action, my foot; this thing had enough kick to knock out a tooth. And it was noisy – it sounded like the engine of an idling outboard motor. I pulled off one of my socks, and dropped the massager into it. That cut down the noise significantly.

I watched the massager vibrate in the sock for awhile. I knew I was delaying the inevitable, and I felt like an idiot for being so embarrassed. Lots of women – people – used vibrators. And really, how was this any different than using the shower massager? It would actually be more convenient – I wouldn't have to get all wet, and I'd be saving hot water. And this way, I could get it done, toss the thing on the night stand, and go to sleep. Yeah.

I sighed. Might as well get this over with.

Suddenly the blanket was ripped off my head. I screamed. I screamed a second time when I realized it was Ranger standing over the bed.

He looked confused. "Why are you hiding under the covers with a flashlight, babe?"

"Nothing! No reason!" I scrabbled desperately at my bag of goodies, trying to gather them up before he could see them.

"Is that sock… vibrating?"

I looked down at the bed, and watched in horror as the sock containing the massager bounced and twisted its way across the mattress. I dove on it, and felt frantically through the sock for the off switch, but couldn't find it. "It's, ummm… Just give me a minute to - "

Ranger picked up my discarded Maglite, and shone it over the bed. Then he smiled – a full two hundred watt smile. "Babe," he said.

I was tempted to run into the bathroom and not come out until Ranger was gone. Instead, I put everything into the bag, including the vibrating sock, and shoved it under the pillow. My pillow instantly started doing the rumba. I leaned on it, and tried to give Ranger a casual look.

"Did you want something?" I said. "It's kind of late for a visit."

The smile grew. He sat down next to me. "Having a party?"

My ears were burning. "None of your business."

"You embarrassed, babe?"

"Absolutely not. No way. I use this stuff all the time."

He reached under my pillow, and pulled out the bag. "I think you better turn off your sock before the batteries die." He pulled the sock out. It dangled from his fingers and twitched like a freshly caught fish. "What is it with you and socks, anyway?"

I snatched the sock away from him. "They're multipurpose," I muttered. I slid the massager out of the sock, and turned it off. Then I shoved the whole works under the bed.

Ranger laughed out loud. He tugged me in close, and kissed me on the forehead. "Having problems with Morelli?"

I think he asked me the same thing last time I brought this home. Back then, I hadn't had a problem with Morelli. This time, it was safe to say that I did. I leaned into Ranger, and sighed. "He doesn't like the way I cook."

He was quiet for a bit. "I'm not sure how to take that."

"My cooking. He doesn't want any more chili cheese dogs."

"I thought I smelt something familiar when I came in here."

I winced. "That was Bob. I swear it wasn't me. Anyway, Joe wanted me to cheat on the diet, I told him I wouldn't, and he dumped me for a bucket of fried chicken."

He nodded. "Hal said you had a fight."

Stupid security cameras. "Hal should learn to mind his own business."

Ranger picked me up and turned us around so that I was sitting between his legs, and he was leaning against the headboard. "You're my business; Hal was doing his job. When I'm out of town, I feel better knowing you're safe."

"So, what, you came running home because Morelli and I had a fight?" I wish. No, I really did wish.

"No; the job was done."

Oh. "When did you get back?"

"About ten minutes before I found you fooling around with your sock under the blankets."

I elbowed him in the gut. "I was not fooling around with a sock. I was trying to… deaden the sound."

I could feel him laughing. "I hate to break this to you, babe, but you need a thicker sock. I could hear it when I opened the front door, and with the television going. What's it powered with, a lawn mower engine?"

I elbowed him again, this time a little harder, but still not meaning it. He wrapped his arms around me anyway, and held me close. Then he started to nuzzle me. "So is Morelli's affair with the bucket of chicken a permanent arrangement? Or just for tonight?"

I was much too comfortable lying against Ranger like this. He was like a warm, sexy smelling man-sized pillow. "I'm not sure."

He moved my hair aside, and kissed the back of my neck. "What do you want it to be?"

I paused. "I'm not sure."

Ranger's hands were suddenly on the move. "Let me help you decide."

My brain was foggy from his lips and warm sexiness, but it wasn't that foggy. I jumped out of his arms and backed away from the bed. "No way."

He sighed, but he was smiling. "Saw through my sheep's clothing, did you?"

"I think the sheep's clothing fell off when you slipped through the keyhole."

He rose from the bed. "I should be going anyway – it was a long day, and I still have to check in with Tank before I call it a night." His playful look disappeared. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Sure," I said. Ranger's visit had put me at a strange kind of ease, while simultaneously putting me into a right state. I knew exactly what I would be doing once he was gone – I'd be finding a thicker sock.

A bit of the wolf came back to his eye. "I can spend the night if you want."

That was more temptation than I needed right now. "I'll call you if I need anything."

I walked him to the door, just to make sure that he really did leave. He turned to me just before he opened it, and with some quick maneuvering, had me pressed up against the wall.

"Proud of you, babe," he said. And he kissed me so long and so thoroughly that by the time we came up for air, we were both gasping. I wasn't sure exactly what made him proud of me, but I wasn't about to complain.

"Come by Haywood tomorrow around one," he said. "We'll sort out your cooking problem." And he left.