10. NOT EVERY GIRL'S FAIRY TALE

She had suffered through her enforced rest period and was back to work—had been for two weeks. It was only desk duty, but after three months of intense physical therapy and Jane treating her like glass, she was more than ready. Most of her injuries had healed nicely, except that her fractured pelvis had caused some unforeseen trouble. But she had seen the doctor just that morning before coming in and had gotten a good report. She was ready to be back and more than ready to make up for lost time . . . in every way.

She wasn't released for active field duty yet, but the doctor had cleared her for strenuous activity that morning. She had been trying to convince Jane she was ready for it for the past two weeks, but he was determined to be careful of her, not wanting to slow her recovery or injure her. He was practically living with her now, staying most nights and usually sleeping in her bed. Being a woman of her word, she wanted to make good on the promise she had made in the hospital the day he got her discharged. Their evening routine varied little from one night to the next. He would come home from work, they would eat and play with Will before one of them bathed him and put him to bed. Then, the two of them would end up on the couch (or going to straight to bed) in a tangle of limbs and lips and in various stages of undress. But at the last minute, he would pull back and—holding her tightly and tucking her head under his chin—kiss her hair and tell her she needed her sleep. She would have teased him over their role reversal, but if the cold showers were as uncomfortable and ineffective for him as they were proving to be for her, she was certain the humor would be lost on him.

Once she had left the hospital and was able to stay on her own, Jane's frustrations had taken a somewhat different direction. After feeling so far away from her for those tortuous weeks and nearly losing her, he couldn't stand to be away from her for very long periods of time. During her sick leave, he would call her throughout the day, leaving at five every evening unless they had a case. Once she returned to work, being with her every day hadn't seemed to alleviate the need to keep her close. He always accompanied her when she left the building, and he had abandoned his couch for hers. He was sure it would get better as they eased back into some sense of normalcy, but sometimes when he didn't know where she was, he would nearly hyperventilate. He knew it was ridiculous, and he hoped no one noticed. They would think he was pathetic. He thought he was pathetic.

"Where's Jane?" Hightower asked as she walked into the bullpen and folded her arms across her chest, as if daring them to answer her.

Grace smiled at her computer screen as Rigsby doggedly kept his head down. As senior of the three, the responsibility to reply apparently fell to Cho. He raised his eyes to Hightower's and gave a small sideways jerk of his head in the direction of Lisbon's office.

"Uh-huh," was all she said as she unfolded her arms and headed back to her own lair.

"I will never understand this thing women have about asking questions they already know the answers to." Rigsby complained. "I mean—where does she think he is? He's where he always is. Glued to Boss's side."

Cho couldn't resist.

"Yeah. Unless he's glued to her—"

"Don't, man, just . . . don't."

"I thought you were over this."

"I was. But since she's been back . . . I mean, he's always in there or in the car with her. And when they're not together . . . Last week, when he stepped out for a minute and she went down to the coffee cart to get that latte stuff she likes . . .," he paused to hang his head and shake it ruefully, " . . . man, I thought he was gonna have a panic attack."

"I know. It's pretty pathetic."

"I think it's sweet." Grace had really suffered through the near break-up and was glad Jane and Lisbon were back together.

"Yeah. Sweet and pathetic." She frowned across the room at Cho.

"You know, sometimes you guys are real idiots." She shot at the two of them, and Rigsby snickered back at her.

"Maybe. But we're not pathetic."

"That's debatable." Grace muttered under her breath. A call came in for Lisbon, but it was nothing urgent. Van Pelt took a message and put it with two others under a paperweight on her desk.

"When are you gonna give her those?" Wayne asked her, eyeing the slips of paper.

"When she comes out and asks for them."

Rigsby was leaning back in his chair now, tossing a ball in the air over and over again, his eyes periodically flickering toward the boss's office. A minute passed in silence.

"Blinds have been closed for a while. Whaddya think they're doing in there?"

Cho laid his book on his desk with an aggravated sigh, but his voice was flat and emotionless as ever.

"You really want me to answer that?"

"No, I really don't. But you don't think they'd . . . you've seen how Jane is around her . . . but it's Lisbon, and they're at work . . . they wouldn't, right?"

He looked at Grace, relying on her sense of privacy and sensitivity when it came to the boss. She grinned and slid her eyes sideways at him.

"Probably going at it like spider monkeys."

Rigsby groaned and hauled himself out of the chair to leave the room, and Cho shot Van Pelt a dimpled smile and a nod like he was giving her a high-five. Wayne paused, realizing that going toward the elevator or the break room would take him past Lisbon's office. So, he turned around and headed toward the records room off the back of the bullpen, grabbing a bag of chips from his desk on the way. He'd just sit in there and bounce the ball off the wall for a while. Maybe by the time he came back the blinds would be open.

Wayne would have been relieved that—for the moment—the activity in Lisbon's office was really quite innocent.

Jane was lying on her couch, looking at her. While she liked the attention, for the first time in months, she couldn't tell what was going on in his head, and his just lying there staring at her was starting to unnerve her.

"Stop looking at me with . . . your eyes." She held her hand up as if to shield herself from his gaze.

"The better to see you with, my dear."

He rose from the couch, taking his tea cup with him, intending to head to the break room for a refill. Instead, he walked to her desk, set down the cup and pulled her up and straight into his arms. She pouted up at him.

"Figures. I'm finally in a fairy tale relationship, and I end up with the Big Bad Wolf."

He growled in her ear. "Yes, but you still get your happy ending."

"Is that an offer?"

He pulled back and looked at her. It was still something of a surprise to him when At-Work Lisbon said something so suggestive. He contemplated an answer. He wasn't at the doctor's office with her that morning. He hadn't forgotten the blatant flirting he had engaged in to get Lisbon released early from the hospital, and, frankly, the "doctor lady's" lingering looks made him a bit uncomfortable, especially under Lisbon's amused gaze. But he knew she had gotten good news. And it was making her . . . he didn't know what. She just had this air about her. He'd been watching her all morning to see if she would give.

As he stared down at her lost in thought, she grew impatient for a response. She moved in his embrace in a slow wiggle that started at her shoulders and worked its way down to her knees. His brain instantly went white and empty.

She arched her eyebrow at him, and some semblance of cognitive thought returned to him. His fingers had clenched, digging into her skin through the shirt, which he now realized was made of very thin material. She wriggled against him again and smirked. He tightened his hold on her further, pulling her against him more snugly.

"Stop that so I can walk out of here with some dignity."

"Now, why would your dignity be important to me?"

"You treat me with absolutely no respect." He leaned down and covered her lips with his own, kissing her with a slow, building heat. He pulled back just long enough to ask, "Why are you so short?" as he lifted her onto her desk and stood between her knees.

One hand raised to the back of her head, and his kiss forced her to lean back into his palm. His fingers massaged deep into her scalp as his lips moved against hers, and his other hand came up to cup one breast, gently squeezing it in the same rhythm. It's a good thing she thought to close the blinds when she walked in.

He drew back suddenly from the kiss, hands stilled in place and looked at her in a way she thought would have been described in a book as "aghast".

"Why you little minx."

"Took you long enough. You must be losing your touch."

One thumb moved in a brushing motion, and she gasped lightly.

"You think so, my dear?"

Now he really sounded like the Big Bad Wolf. She inhaled then exhaled deep and slow and smiled up at him. His eyes narrowed at her.

"What's going on in that head of yours now?"

In answer, she raised her hand to the back of his neck and took a firm hold of his curls as she pulled him in for a kiss and slid herself toward him so she could hold him between her thighs. Her other hand slid around his waist under his jacket and downward to give his backside a firm squeeze as she murmured against his lips.

"The doctor cleared me for strenuous activity."

His hands clenched onto her again for an instant before heat engulfed him and his kiss and touch turned almost bruising. She was able and willing to give as good as she got, and when her lamp clattered to the floor, they realized she was lying fully flat on her desk top, his weight pinning her in place beneath him. She groaned and clutched at his jacket as he pulled away a few inches, still leaning over her.

"We can't do this here. I don't want the first time to be on your desk, of all places. I don't want to hurt you, and I know it would kill me."

"Okay. Let me grab the keys to the SUV."

"Teresa."

"We could say we're checking something out. It wouldn't be an actual lie."

"Teresa."

"You sound like somebody's dad."

"You sound like a hormonal teenager."

"I think I could go with that."

"What is wrong with you? Do you have no self-control whatsoever?"

She drew back and looked at him stunned. He suddenly had a very bad feeling. He didn't know why, but that must have been the wrong thing to say. He wasn't prepared for her reaction.

She laughed at him. Threw back her head and crowed. His hands slid to her upper arms, and he shook her.

"What are you laughing at? Get a hold of yourself, woman!" Now the best he could muster was mock seriousness, barely able to resist smiling at her.

Her eyes grew round and she pointed at him. She was outright whooping. He experienced a near overwhelming urge to turn her over his knee and spank her. But she would probably like it. Or kill him in his sleep.

Instead, he just flicked her on the nose and walked out in a huff, teacup and all.