Author's note: thank you for all the reviews; for the guest whose frustration is growing (!) I don't know. Maura's trying a few moves, she confessed her feelings, Jane's obviously not indifferent to her... So we're getting there little by little. But it's all fine if you prefer to catch back a bit later, of course. No spoiler but a few things should happen soon. And big + for "to coco loco herself", it cracked me up.

Cissie: thanks a lot. The undercover is still going on since they're going to follow them to Punta Cana. Not sure I get what you mean, sorry.

Chapter ten – Merengue

One, two, three and... Maura huffed. She had stopped complaining for a couple of minutes but her attitude let Jane understand that the Italian would need to be very persuasive to make her smile again. Yes, it was her fault if they had had to leave the resort in a hurry to make it on time to the shuttle. Yes, she had literally dragged Maura to the club gates while the scientist hadn't had time to even go change after their sailing lesson. In a word: yes, she was the one to blame. Because she hadn't checked her watch as she should have.

"Your hair is perfect. Your dress is perfect. Your shoes are perfect. You are perfect."

Leaned against the window of the small bus, Maura pouted – obviously unconvinced – and rolled her eyes. As much as her friend was known for her difficult temper, the honey blonde could be rather grumpy as well if not just plainly susceptible.

"Don't even mention my attire again. I mean it, Jane. I look like..." The medical examiner pursed her lips as if to keep the words to herself for them being too shameful.

She had done her hair and was wearing it now up in an improvised ponytail but the salt of the sea didn't have a very good effect on her blond curls. The volume of her hair had considerably increased. To not say tripled.

"Frost was right, last night. You really are suntanned." A compliment. Well done, Rizzoli.

Except it took Jane quite a while to realize that she wasn't staring at her friend's arm – for instance – but at her hips that showed as the fabric of Maura's cotton dress had slowly moved up under an imperceptible movement.

As it hit her, the detective blushed and grew uncomfortable enough to turn her head to the other side.

"Is there something to see in Punta Cana?" Nice, Rizzoli. Keep it cool. Back on something safe.

Maura grabbed her travel guide from a worn-out bag that wasn't part of any out-of-the-resort attire either and leafed through it without a bit of enthusiasm. "There is... Chocomuseo...?"

"The hell is that?"

"A brand new museum about the history of chocolate. Punta Cana isn't Santo Domingo, to be honest. It is your typical seaside resort with beaches and bars." Maura's hazel eyes stopped on a couple of seats ahead. Lisa and Guadalupe were in full chat. They seemed to have been pleasantly surprised to see them show up at the very last minute. "Besides, don't we already have a plan?"

Jane shrugged. "To an extent. But it's not like we can bump into them every five seconds."

The shuttle stopped before what looked like a typical bar. The local kind of one, not very hype. Bright colors. Jane read the name out loud. "Macondo..." Two old men were sitting at a table outside and played chess in the sun.

Maura nodded and retrieved her belongings before standing up to step in the street with the other vacationers. "It is a homage to Gabriel García Márquez. Rather classic in the area."

The sky was gray yet the temperatures particularly high. Jane winced. She had forgotten her sunglasses. Lisa and Guadalupe came to see her right away. Hand in hand. Why did they have to be that sweet? It made the Italian feel bad. The days were passing by and she had more and more of a hard time believing that they could have anything to do with a murder case. Nothing went this way. Nothing at all.

"Any plan? We are going to visit Anna and Isabella – have lunch with them – and probably walk around until the shuttle comes back at 3pm. It's a very small place, to be honest. We should certainly spot you here and there!"

Lisa's smile was perfect. She looked sincere. Genuinely sincere.

Jane opened her mouth to reply but froze as she felt Maura's hand on hers. The scientist tightened her grip without a word. It was their first contact since what seemed like an eternity.

If only for Jane.

The previous night had been strange. Maura had danced for an hour or so with different women – laughing, smiling at them – and when she had decided that she had had enough, they had gone back to their room.

They hadn't talked much, hadn't shared anything. What do you want to share, anyway? Open your eyes, Rizzoli. Same in the morning, at breakfast and during their sailing lesson. Yes. It had seemed like an eternity since they had been close enough to cause the brunette's lips to curl up in a smile instinctively.

"Shopping."

End of the sweet parenthesis. Jane turned around and looked at Maura. Was she grinning at Lisa and Guadalupe or just at the prospect of dragging the detective into one of her least favorite activities?

"Yes. We... We are going to do that." Jane bit her lower lip. She should have known better. A grumpy Maura was a Maura to fear.

...

"Hola, linda..." The scientist was about to smile back at the salesman when she realized that – for once – it was not addressed to her but to Jane. Within thinking it twice, she glared at the young man and put a possessive hand on her friend's lower back. "Cariña..."

Unaware of the whole scene yet confused before her friend's sudden closeness, Jane looked up from a pile of shirts and frowned at the blonde. "Why are you talking to me in Spanish?"

Once the resort shuttle had left, they had discreetly followed Lisa and Guadalupe only to find out both women had – indeed – stopped by a local and rather old art gallery to visit a friend who turned out to be eighty years old at least. Not really mafia oriented unless they now hired grandmothers who moved around with difficulty.

As the couple had sat down at the terrace of the small cafe next to the gallery for a drink in company of their friend, Jane and Maura had decided to enjoy a bit of their free time in the small town to go for some shopping. Or at least Maura had decided so. The brunette had simply followed.

"Don't tell me that you are seriously thinking about buying this shirt..." The blonde took a deep breath and tried to sound casual. She had avoided Jane's question and so what? Her priorities lay somewhere else; like, for instance, in that blue - hippie style - piece of clothing that her friend was holding. "I swear I take off my wedding band if you do."

The detective rolled her eyes and cast a glance at the Brazilian bracelet that Maura had convinced her to buy at the previous store. "Sorry but I don't see myself jogging around Boston with a rainbow tank top that says 'Punta Cana's Finest Ladies'."

Maura winced, pouted as if she were pondering her friend's words. She finally nodded. "Okay. Put that down. I got it. We are off for lunch. Shopping is done."

Victory. Jane barely hid her smirk and gladly followed her friend outside of the store, holding a dozen of bags in each hand. For herself. How come Maura always managed to make her buy a thousand things that she wouldn't even wear once? You can't tell her no. That's why, Riz'.

Hungry and not really eager to walk for a long time under a blinding sun, both friends stopped by a cantina that had two stars in Maura's guide. Enough to content the scientist and just fine for the detective who had noticed that they had Presidente, the local beer, which was all she cared about in the end. At least they hadn't chosen one of the fast food restaurants that the tourists stuck to in order to eat a greasy burger in the sun while electro music covered the soft rhythm of salsa coming from an opened window down the block.

"What is it that people dance bachata in the middle of the street? Locals, I mean. At lunchtime. Can you imagine that happening in Boston?"

Whatever her dish was, Jane had to recognize that it was delicious. And exotic enough. Way better than the shy and traditional buffet of the Club Med. If that was real Dominican food then she could definitely consider coming back sooner than later. Chewing on her chicken, she motioned at a couple moving with sensuality opposite their terrace.

"It isn't bachata but merengue. The dance actually originated from the slaves working in sugar beet fields. But it has transformed in style, especially when making it to the United States. Nowadays, the..."

But Maura never had a chance to finish her sentence. Jane stopped her immediately.

"Would you like to dance?"

For long seconds, the scientist remained perfectly still - her eyes focused on the dancers - until reality seemed to hit her back and she frowned. "I thought you didn't like dancing."

Her academic tone was gone. Her voice had turned softer, embracing with her typical delicacy the memories of the previous evening.

Jane shrugged – ran her tongue over her lips – and put down her fork. Her hands were moist and shaking. She hid them under the table. "Maybe I've changed my mind."