he story continues…

Breaking His Concentration

Blake sighed as she walked in the door and kicked off her heels. "I was downtown all day, and they never even called me or Officer Jackson to testify. The whole day was wasted, and Cutter expects us down there again tomorrow. I liked McCoy better." She grumbled as she dropped the grocery bags on the kitchen counter.

Bobby didn't respond. She peeked into the living room; he was on the couch, studying a group of photographs and clippings spread out on the coffee table. His coffee cup, half-empty, was on the end table, next to him.

"Doesn't make any sense," she heard him say.

"Hello to you too, Bobby." Blake recognized his distracted air and knew she had her work cut out for her.

He still didn't look up, instead picking up another photograph, turning it sideways, inspecting every inch of it. "Two dead in the same house, second victim is holding the gun, he has blood spatter and GSR all over him, but the bullets…" he picked up another photo, "…the bullets Rodgers extracted do not come from his gun."

"Are you supposed to take case files home with you?"

"This isn't a case file. I made copies of the photographs." He answered, distractedly. "If someone else was the shooter, how did he wind up with both blood and residue on him? It doesn't make any sense."

"You made copies." Blake said, stunned. "You know, most people are finished with work when they head home for the day."

"Most people do not have an open homicide investigation." He pulled up another photo, this one of two bullets lined up side-by-side. From what she could see from the other side of the room, they looked very much alike, although admittedly ballistics wasn't her specialty.

"Where's Alex?"

"She went home. She can just shut it off at the end of the day, I can't."

"Yeah, I've noticed." The small shake of her head, the eye roll and sarcasm were all lost on him as he continued to study the photos.

"Do you have any suspects?" she asked. Realizing he was going to be distracted for the rest of the night, she joined in to keep from being completely ignored for the evening.

"Not at the moment."

"Any leads? Any solid evidence as to who might have done it?"

"Also, not at the moment."

"To the best of your knowledge, is there some kind of crazy psycho killer running loose in New York City?"

"Probably not, but it's a big city. This looks more like a domestic incident of some kind – at least it would if these were his bullets – "

"That…that wasn't really my point." She said, with a laugh. "You're staring at photos. It's not like you can stare them down until they talk."

"I'm missing something." His gaze had still not moved from the evidence gallery. "I know I'm missing something. There has to be an inconsistency somewhere…"

She sighed as she watched him rifle though the photos, the diagrams, the floor plans of the house, again. He was impossible to talk to when he got like this. This called for drastic measures.

"You know," she said casually, "if you weren't so busy with that, you might notice that I'm not wearing any clothes."

He froze for a moment – but only for a moment. After that slight pause, it was right back to the files. "You have clothes on, Blake."

"How do you know? You're still haven't looked at me."

"Because you just walked in the door a few minutes ago, and I very much doubt that you spent all day at Centre Street naked." He kept his eyes on the photos, though by now it was more to make a point than anything else. "Court officers generally frown on that."

"I could have undressed while we were talking."

"That fast?"

"Yes, that fast."

He shook his head. "Blake, I'm sorry, but I have an open investigation with no leads, and if there was a third party involved, they are still out there. If there is anything else to find in this evidence, it may be the difference between catching a killer and letting him walk." He took a sip of his coffee.

"I know, I know," she said, walking his way. "Saving the world one crime scene at a time, right?"

She sat down beside him. He stopped dead as he noticed that, in fact, she wasn't wearing any clothes.

She couldn't help but grin as he hastily put down the coffee and made a show of checking his watch. "That, um…that was fast."

"The faster I can change, the later I get to sleep in the morning." She shrugged innocently.

"I see." His voice was calm, but he was still recovering, looking everywhere but at her. She put a hand on his cheek, turned him to face her, and, very slowly for maximum effect, kissed him.

He didn't resist the kiss. Nor did he resist when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him close, nor when she let one hand trail down his back.

His eyes remained closed as they separated. After a few seconds, he opened them, smiled, and said, very firmly, "No."

No surprises there. She sighed. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Right back at you."

You really do need a break."

"And I'll take one, when I've finished. I need to get this investigation on track."

"You're off-duty detective," she protested as she stood up. "You're not even supposed to be working." With that, she turned on her heel, picked up her clothes, and stalked into the bedroom - indignantly, she hoped. And slammed the door for added effect.

He laughed and went back to the photographs, mostly to prevent himself from watching her leave.

Blake returned from the bedroom, casually but fully dressed in her usual stay-at-home after work attire. Tank top and loose fitting sleep pants. The pair she happened to have on tonight was her favorite pair. They had once be blue flannel, but they were now so old, there was no flannel left, just incredibly soft cotton. Making her way out to the kitchen, she began to put the few groceries she'd bought into the refrigerator.

Of course there was no coffee left in the coffeepot. Blake wondered, how long Bobby had been sitting there going over the crime scene photos. Humming to herself, she rummaged around the kitchen, looking for the coffee filters. She hadn't familiarized herself with Bobby's kitchen yet; so far, she had adopted a trial and error strategy to find what she needed. The cabinets and drawers were mostly empty, and the appliances and utensils in them were not frequently used – the hallmarks of both a bachelor and a working woman who didn't particularly like to cook. That pretty much covered Bobby and her.

"They're in the second cabinet on the left." Bobby had come into the kitchen without her even noticing – some time ago, apparently, as he was now close enough to put a hand on her waist. She hated when he snuck up on her.

She slowly turned to face him, her arms folded in front of her. "I thought you had work to do," she said. Her tone was light and teasing and although he didn't let her see it, he was relieved she wasn't angry.

"I did." He replied; both hands were on her waist now, thumbs gently rubbing small circles over her hip bones. "I found what may be a lead in the bullet trajectories analysis."

"Ah." She smiled. "You finally made those photos confess. I'm impressed."

"That's what I do. Get the confession from the most difficult suspects."

"Does that mean you're taking a break?"

"I think I'd like one, yes."

Her eyes opened wide, and suddenly she shook her head. "Oh no you don't," she said, pointing at him. "You had your chance, Bobby Goren. I seem to recall you being too busy, something to do with an open homicide investigation."

"That was before I got my confession. Now it's time to celebrate. Don't I get a second chance?" He asked. The smile was back.

"You most certainly do not. A lead, Goren... all you got was a lead. And that doesn't entitle you to a second chance. How do you think I feel about being blown off for your – your bullet trajectories or whatever you said they were? I'm not happy about it, you know."

Seeing the wicked grin on his face, she pre-empted him, "And don't be making any lame joke about being…"

"Blown?" Bobby asked, laughing.

Blake was shaking her head and raised her eyes to avoid seeing the grin on his face. But it was too late, a big grin playing about her lips. She agreed, "Yeah, no lame jokes about being blown…", before breaking into a hysterical giggling fit.

"Would it help if I apologized?" He had moved closer; they were inches apart now.

"It might." Definitely, if her racing heartbeat was any indication. She couldn't say she didn't see it coming when he kissed her. Considering how close he was, she would have been disappointed if he didn't. But that didn't mean there were no surprises waiting for her.

She not only heard his apology, she felt it as his warm breath teased her lips.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, just before his lips touched hers.

She hadn't expected him to kiss her quite like this – arm around her waist, hand behind her head, nothing separating them but a layer or two of fabric. She hadn't expected the kiss to send a shiver of delight up her spine, either. And she hadn't expected to be breathless when it ended. Too soon, that kiss ended way too soon.

She too kept her eyes closed for a moment after it was over, letting his taste linger on her lips. It didn't take her long to regain her composure, and as she did, she straightened, standing tall. Turnabout was fair play. Slowly, deliberately and, very definitely, she said, "No."

It was his turn to laugh. "If you say so."

"I do." She gave him a playful shove. "Now get back to work, you. I thought you had a crime to solve. I'll let you know when the coffee's done."

Bobby nodded and leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of her head as he slid his hands down her arms to grasp her hands. He held them wrapped lightly within his as he slowly backed out of the kitchen.

When he turned, Blake called out, "And then I'll let you know when 'no' becomes 'yes.'

Bobby might have been able to pull off a dignified and solemn return to his work, had Blake not seen the joyous grin on his face reflected in the mirror across the room.

More to come…