Logan POV


After hearing about the day that the Gorens had experienced, I was not surprised that Alex had snapped at me this morning.

In fact, she deserved to have done a whole lot worse. Maybe I'd see if she wanted to go to the gym with me, go a few rounds. She worked out with Goren most of the time, but I had a feeling that she wouldn't take out her frustration on him. He was already taking enough of this thing on himself.

I didn't want to think about how I would feel to be in that same situation. It wasn't like it was too farfetched. It's pretty much always a possibility unless you've lived a life of celibacy.

And I hadn't.

Lived a life of celibacy, that is.

I had no doubt that I had been a damn sight more licentious than Goren.

And that wasn't something I would ever brag about. In fact, now I wished that I hadn't been like that.

But you can't change the past, only the future. Carolyn reminded me of that on a daily basis.

She did a lot of things for me on a daily basis. It was hard to believe that I'd survived the first forty-some years of my life without her, but now that I did have her, I never wanted to be alone again. I never wanted to be without her again.

I couldn't help but be reminded that only a little less than a year ago, we'd had a pregnancy scare. We could have a kid right now. How much would that have changed us?

Too much to quantify.

"You're not going to believe this," Alex said. She held copies of medical documents in her hand.

We were still sitting in the booth at McNally's. We'd finished dinner a little while ago. We had paperwork spread across the table and we were on our third round of beers.

"What is it?" I asked.

"They both have it."

"Antonio and Diego?" Carolyn questioned while Bobby simultaneously asked, "Marfan's?"

"Yes on both counts."

"That's a little unusual isn't it?" I asked.

"Not really, no," Carolyn replied. "If one parent has it, then there's a fifty-fifty chance of it getting passed on to their offspring. Obviously one of the Medina parents had it. Two kids got it, and one kid didn't."

"Are they both A-positive?" Goren inquired.

"Uh huh. Great. That means either one of them could be Dylan's father."

"Or neither of them," I countered. "It doesn't have to be one of them."

"So you think that there was another man who slept with Irene and is A-positive and has Marfan's syndrome?" Alex posed with a quirk of her eyebrow.

Boy, she had a way of stating facts that just cut through all of the bullshit.

I sat back and grinned at her.

"Okay. Good point," I conceded.

Although even the fact that we had two possibilities seemed like one too many.

"What about the phone records?" Carolyn asked as she sifted through the paperwork. "You said that Irene got two calls, right?"

"That's right. One about midnight, and one around two-thirty."

"The phone call that Irene received at two-thirty a.m. was from Carlos," I stated, having found the desired report.

"Carlos?" Goren questioned. "I had money on Diego."

"Me, too," Alex agreed.

"You think Diego is your killer?" I asked. "What would be his motive?"

"Well, for starters, he's in love with Irene," Alex said. "The proof of that is all over Bobby's face."

"Yeah, he was pretty ticked off when I suggested that Antonio was with her," Bobby remarked.

"She's having sex with both brothers of her ex-husband…that's a murder waiting to happen," Carolyn remarked.

"I think you're right," I said. "There's a call from Irene to Diego two hours after the call from Carlos to Irene."

"What are you thinking?" Alex asked me.

"What if whatever she and Carlos talked about made her upset? So she called Diego to tell him about it. Since he's in love with her, he goes off to confront Carlos and protect Irene. We know he's a hothead. Maybe it was an accident."

"He accidentally rammed him through a double-pane window?" Carolyn questioned. "I don't know, Mike."

"Hey, a guy standing up for his woman can have super-human strength. Right Goren?"

"That's true," he mumbled, although I could tell his brain was off and running somewhere else. "What time was that call from Irene to Diego?"

"Four-thirty."

"Carlos was killed about that time. There's no way that she called Diego at four-thirty and then he went to Thirty-Second Street, up forty floors, and killed Carlos."

"And then got back home by five to be notified by Ross. And to have the wherewithal to ask for Detective Goren of Major Case," Alex added.

"Yeah, and why would he do that?" I asked. "He would've been better off to let any homicide detective handle it."

"He wanted Bobby because he would be emotionally involved," Carolyn suggested.

"How long was the call?" Goren asked, sticking with the murder outline rather than the theory for his involvement.

"Seven minutes. Too long for voice mail."

"So that takes us back to Antonio," Alex suggested. "Unless there was someone else at Diego's house who took the call."

"Antonio's only twenty-five," Carolyn pointed out. "He would've been fifteen when Dylan was conceived. I'd say that takes him out of the running."

"Does it?" I asked. "What were you doing at fifteen, Goren?"

"I wasn't having sex with thirty-year-old women," he countered. Then he looked at Alex and added, "I wasn't having sex with anyone when I was fifteen."

I decided to let the topic drop. We were getting into areas that I would rather not discuss. I felt Carolyn's hand squeeze my thigh and I set my hand down on top of hers.

"So are we sure that identifying the father is synonymous with identifying the killer? I mean, maybe everybody is circling the wagons right now to contain family secrets. Maybe they're afraid that the investigation into Carlos' death would shed some light on things they'd rather have left in the dark. But that doesn't mean that one of them is a killer," I suggested.

"Then why would Irene be willing to confess?"

"Because she's innocent and she believes in the system?" Carolyn offered. "She's sure she'll get off, and in the mean time, the investigation is brought to an end."

"What could be so horrible that it would be better to stand trial for murder than to let it be known?" Goren asked rhetorically.

None of us had an answer for that. Our brain storm session had brought about more questions than answers, as was usually the case in the beginning of an investigation.

"We're going to have to call it a night, guys," Alex said. "I'm glad you came out with us."

"What can we do to help on this?" I asked her. She got out of the booth and slipped into her coat while she waited for Goren to join her.

"I don't know yet."

"You'll call?"

"Of course."


Alex POV

We got home to our new empty apartment not a moment too soon. I'd had sexual tension building in me for the better part of the day, and I was tired of waiting.

But I wanted to play a little bit first. Because that wasn't really like waiting. It was more like extended foreplay.

"Get comfortable. I'm going to get some ice packs," I told Bobby once he'd locked up behind us.

He went down the hall to the bedroom, shedding his suit as he went. I watched him for a moment, and then went into the kitchen and filled a couple of baggies with ice.

"It actually feels a lot better," he told me as he came into the kitchen.

He was dressed in gray NYPD sweatpants and a dark blue t-shirt. He looked sexy as hell, although I'd come to the conclusion that the man could look sexy in a potato sack.

I set the baggies on the counter and stepped out of my shoes, and then unhooked my pants and let them fall to the floor.

"Well, we don't want it to swell up over night," I replied casually.

I hadn't intended it, but somehow using the phrase swell up at the same time I was taking off my pants managed to come across as fairly suggestive.

At least, that's what I was guessing considering the look on Bobby's face.

I definitely had his complete attention, so I took my time removing my blouse, slowly sliding each button through its hole. I let the fabric pull apart gradually until it finally slipped down my arms onto the floor.

He continued to watch me intently. I loved the way he seemed mesmerized by me at times like this. He always made me feel so beautiful.

And then my mind betrayed me.

Had he thought that Irene still looked beautiful, I wondered.

I didn't want to be thinking of her, but I couldn't help myself. My mind had been in dark places all day, thinking about the two of them together…It was like it was on a continuous loop in my head and I couldn't make it stop.

"Alex," he said quietly, bringing my focus back to the present. "What is it?"

My first reaction was to keep my mouth shut. Why should I shove my insecurities onto him?

But that wasn't fair. I expected him to tell me everything and yet I got to pick and choose? No, I wasn't going to be like that.

"I'm just…torturing myself," I admitted.

"About what?" he asked, although I knew he knew. He picked me up and set me on the island counter.

"You wouldn't have to do that if I were taller," I mumbled.

The statement was ostensibly a non-sequitur but at the same time, it was the root of everything.

If I were tall with dark eyes and dark hair like a certain annoyingly gorgeous former girlfriend…

Not to mention the fact that all day men had been singing her sexual praises.

How was I supposed to compete with that? Bobby had admitted to thinking back about the times he'd been with her. And yeah, he'd been doing it to confirm the facts, but still…were those images in his head now? Would he be thinking about her while he was with me? I knew he would never do it intentionally, but I didn't want him to do it at all.

He was waiting patiently for me to talk. I loved that about him. Here I was, barely dressed and sitting on the counter with my legs around him, and yet he wasn't advancing things along because he knew I needed to talk first.

Most men would have stripped down, proceeded to have a completely one-sided sexual experience, and then tried desperately to pretend I hadn't said anything at all.

Bobby was definitely not most men.

I closed my eyes and pulled him closer, laying my head on his shoulder. His hands stroked my back in silent support.

"I can picture the two of you in my head," I said at last. "It's not your fault. But I can't turn my brain off."

"That's understandable," he replied softly. "The suggestion was thrown at you all day long. I'd be surprised if it hadn't started you thinking."

"But did it start you thinking?"

He pulled back a little so that I had to look at him.

"You think I wish I were still with her?"

"No, not really. I'm just…I guess I'm wondering if you're going to be thinking about her."

"Now why in the world," he began before he leaned down and kissed my shoulder. "Would I be thinking of anyone else, when I'm with you?"

He continued to press kisses against my shoulder, down my arm, my throat – everywhere that skin was exposed. It made me want to expose more.

"I wanted you for so long…dreamed about you for so long…" he continued, his voice now a husky growl. "How many men can say they get to make love to their fantasy woman?"

His words sent a shot of arousal through me that had me pulling him closer, but he kept talking.

"If today had happened…if we'd run into her, but yet you and I weren't together, tonight I would still be dreaming about you. You are so beautiful…so sexy…there's never been anyone, ever, who could turn me on with just a look. Until you."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, suddenly feeling terrible for seeking out his reassurance. His day had been hell, too. More so than mine, even. And yet I was the one falling apart. How backwards was that?

He didn't reply, but instead stood back and picked up one of the baggies of ice from the counter next to me.

"Remember that day," he began with a mischievous smile. "When you came over and insisted on me using an ice pack?"

"I remember," I replied. I grinned at the memory of walking into the living room and catching Bobby with his hand down his pants.

"You really caught me by surprise that day. Your concern for my…injured area…was the catalyst for even more vivid dreams than usual."

He opened the baggie and pulled out an ice cube.

"Well, I didn't want you to sustain any damage before I got the chance to try it out," I admitted. I could say that now, although I remembered how mortified I'd been at the time.

"Is that what you were thinking?" he asked in surprise.

"Yeah, you didn't know that? I was so afraid my motive was transparent."

"I hoped, maybe. But I never really thought it was a possibility."

"So the great Bobby Goren was wrong," I teased. "I wanted to place that ice pack into position myself. I wanted to assess the damage to see if there was anything I could do to stop the swelling."

"Believe me, there was some serious swelling going on that had nothing to do with getting kicked," he joked back.

And then for a moment, we just looked at one another, each of us remembering that day. The sexual tension, the nervousness, the sheer excitement of pushing the envelope…it was almost like remembering a first date.

He stood there watching me, with the ice cube still in his hand. I realized then that he was waiting for me. I had been the one who needed to talk before moving things forward and so the next move would have to be mine.

I was amazed by how easily he had erased my fears. The relentless circuit in my head had stopped. In fact, it was gone for the moment. It may come back at some point, but I would deal with it then.

I reached for the hem of his shirt and quickly pulled it over his head.

Having been given the green light, he stepped closer once again. He took the ice cube and ran it across my lips before slowly dragging it down my throat. My breath caught as I waited in anticipation for what he would do next.

He leaned in close, letting his breath run over the icy trail. I felt goose bumps spring up along my skin and yet I was simultaneously on fire.

"I'm glad you're not taller," he murmured. "You're the perfect height. You're the perfect everything."

TBC...