Calleigh and Eric found their way over to Fleur de Lis after grabbing a bite to eat at a taco stand not too far from the boardwalk. The Fleur de Lis was like any upscale restaurant in Miami; it was near a beach. South Beach, to be exact. The restaurant catered to the affluent, the famous, the connected. Only a few tables were set aside for visiting tourists with the money to spend, as you really had to have made reservations weeks, if not months, in advance.

Eric had only been in the place once before, for a wedding rehearsal dinner party of one of his frat buddies, three years ago. It was more or less how he remembered. Well…mostly he remembered flirting with the bridesmaid that had seated next to him, which was not the bridesmaid he had to walk down the aisle the next day. That had definitely got some dirty looks sent his way, although it wasn't until after the wedding ceremony that he realized the women were competing for his attention. They had been way too determined to be the next one throwing a wedding in their little clique of friends.

But he clearly recalled being disgusted and nearly blinded with the decadence of the place, much the same way he had felt about the decorations going up at the church and those in the reception hall. Large mirrors adorned every other wall panel and the ceiling in between the golden chandeliers. The mirror less panels were a rich, rosey shade of pink with a strip about a foot wide of a layered, textured, gold and cream fleur de lis pattern going down the center of it. The trim was gold plated. The carpet was a color merged from pink and white that looked nice until you remembered the cotton candy your nephew threw up after riding the swings at Disney World was the exact same shade.

The bride-to-be had told him the place was supposed to have a Versailles theme. Actually, the entire wedding had something French themed. Even the damn stripper at the bachelor party had come in wearing a French maid outfit. Really, Eric would have just blown off the place—the whole wedding—and eloped, gone seen the real thing in France. And he was raised to believe that a marriage should be held in a church, surrounded by God and family, and to be a huge orchestrated deal. Of course, the newly married couple had their honeymoon in Paris.

Eric had been sick of pink and gold and tuxes and anything French for weeks after. The only good think that had happened to Eric associated with the restaurant was the three phone numbers he had gotten and an appreciation for his sister Antonia's traditional white wedding when he found himself walking another bridesmaid down the aisle two months later.

They approached the hostess stand, a white, wooden pew accented in gold, side by side. The hostess—blond with pale blond highlights pulled up with chopsticks, blue-eyed, petite, early 20s, dressed in a little, and he meant little, black dress—didn't bother to hide the fact she looked them over and found them grossly underdressed.

"Bonjour! May I help you?" The hostess didn't wear a name tag. Eric wondered if it would have given her real name or the French version.

Calleigh's smile was slightly more cheerful. "I sure hope so. I'm CSI Calleigh Duquense with the Miami-Dade Police"—she flashed her badge—"and this is CSI Eric Delko. Were you by chance working last evening, Ms—?"

"Annabel, Annabel Gailard. I was. I'm the weekday hostess. Wwwhy?"

Eric flipped out the picture of Claymore they had gotten from the DMV. "Do you recognize him from last night's guests?" Annabel peered at the paper, her gold, diamond drop necklace falling out to slide on into the pew top as she did.

"Yeah, I do. Is he dead?" Eric pulled the photo back.

"Now why would you ask that?" Calleigh asked.

"Because the last time I saw, he was chasing after his wife, who was pissed enough to kill," Annabel answered. "Believe me, I know what that kind of pissed is."

Eric smirked, despite himself. Growing up with three older sisters had taught him that any woman could be mad enough to kill. "Care to elaborate?"

Annabel rolled her eyes. "Look. I don't know what he said, only that it was the wrong thing to say. I'm the hostess, not their waitress. Dr. Claymore checked in here with a woman that he said was his wife. I got them to their table. I left. Then later, I hear yelling coming from inside. I told one of the waiters to doing something about it. The next thing I know, the woman's storming out of here when I'm trying to escort someone else in, cussing her head off, and he's not too far behind. If you want to know more, ask anybody who waiting tables. They made a huge scene, pissed off the management big time, and aren't allowed back here again."

"Describe her," Calleigh commanded politely.

"Bleach blonde, curly, thirties, tan and missing the botox, 5'5", wearing some white Vera Wang piece suit, a matching silk wrap, and a Gucci bag from last season's line," Annabel answered matter-of-factly.

"You remember everyone you meet that well, Ms. Gailard?" Eric couldn't help but remark. He managed to keep the snide out of it at the last minute. Man, was Speed starting to rub off on him, and not in a good way. Girls like Annabel were the kind he use to date, not that she was anything compared to Calleigh. At least one of the CSIs should still be in touch with that crowd.

"Paying close attention to what kind of people come to La Fleur is part of my job description," Annabel replied simply, "and after the scene that woman made during the dinner rush, you bet management would be pissed if I didn't remember her."

"And when's the dinner rush?" Calleigh directed the hostess's attention back to her.

"Around 7 is when it starts. And before you even ask, their reservation was for 6:30 and they were just a little late. Excuse me." She had them step to the side as two couples came in. The men were in suits while one of the women wore a gown and the other some Art Deco piece. Eric thought Calleigh in overalls dumpster diving looked better than either of them.

They waited for Annabel to escort the couples to their table, Calleigh whispering to him that she was sure she had seen one of the women in Vogue last month. Eric noted that he thought one of the guys played for the Miami Dolphins.

Within minutes, Annabel was back, a little annoyed they were still there. "Anything else I can do for you two?"

"We're going to need to talk to some of the wait staff that was here last night," Calleigh answered.

"It's the dinner rush hour!"

"We'll be out of here in no time," Eric said to pacify. "We just need five minutes."

"It's that or come back when most of your clients are leaving with a couple of patrol officers to help us interview everyone who was working last night," Calleigh added.

It only took a second for her to decide. "Fine. But you have to be discrete."

Twenty minutes later, Eric and Calleigh left La Fleur de Lis with two slices of Devil's Food cake in a fancy, Styrofoam boxes and another piece of the puzzle.

"Claymore's alibi doesn't hold up," Calleigh said.

"And even with yesterday's traffic, he had plenty of time to make it back to the office," Eric calculated.

"The valet said they showed up in two separate cars."

"So now the question is…"

"Which one of them showed up at the office first," Calleigh finished. "And I think Alexx might have answered that for us already."

***********************

He tasted the chocolate on her lips, mixed with the spice from the sauce from the tacos, and something purely Calleigh that reminded him of smoke and brandy. God, he couldn't get enough of her. If he could taste her forever, it still wouldn't be enough.

Calleigh's lips parted, the heat infusing with his overwhelmed senses as he sank into her. Her arms wrapped tight around his neck as her legs parted, letting him settle between them. She teased him with her tongue while Eric teased her with his hands, one gently kneading her breast as the other flipped over the closure of her pants and drew the zipper slowly down.

They broke away just long enough for both of them to slip off their pants, their shirts long gone, and moved further up her bed. Calleigh's bedroom was not what Eric had imagined, but it was totally her. The curtains and the carpet were a sapphire blue while the bedspread was a soft butterscotch, the walls just noticeably yellow. A nice cherry trim hugged the walls, something he had seen briefly the night before. In the early morning, the sun rising set a warm glow to the room that when his arms had been wrapped around Calleigh, made him feel whole.

I will meet you in some place

Where the light lends itself to soft repose

I will let you undress me

But I warn you,

I have thorns like any rose

Eric slowly let go of her lips and trailed down to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Last night had been an explosion of passion and anticipation. He had let Calleigh lead every step of the way, wanting her enough to let her have the control he'd learned over the past months she needed as much as some people needed to breathe. But now, he wanted to explore her, to see for himself what made her gasp and moan and bite her lips to keep all the noises in.

Calleigh's hands drifted down his back, finally settling on his hips. She had managed to edge the fabric over his hips before he caught her.

Holding her hands over her head, Eric said, "Ah na, I don't think so. You got your desert. I want mine." He spotted the mischievousness in her green eyes before she rolled them dramatically, a smile spreading across her face.

"Well just so you know, if you tickle me, you'll start a war you won't be able to finish," Calleigh said teasingly.

"Okay, no tickling. But I promise you, you'll be squirming for another reason," he answered huskily.

"That confident, aren't we?"

Eyebrows raised, "You doubt me?"

Charm, seductive humor, passion. Every relationship Calleigh had been in had a foundation of these elements, but with Eric, there was something different: friendship. She had seen past some of those layers of outward persona to the inner person, and it was that Eric she already trusted with her life. The reason she had fallen for him. Shouldn't she be able to trust him with another piece of her heart?

And you could hurt me

With your bare hands

You could hurt me using the sharp end

Of what you say

But I am lost to you now

There's no amount of reason

To save me

Calleigh consciously relaxed her arms. "I'm gonna let you prove it."

With a glint of mischievousness in his own chocolate brown eyes, Eric continued his exploration.

Calleigh's breath hitched when his tongue rasped over her nipples, paying equal attention to each breast, leaving them harden tips before traveling down the valley between them. He found that spot just above her left hip that always sent sparks of pleasure through her body. He grazed her belly button, causing her hips to buckle. Her skin was tingling, nearly sizzling as she continued to let Eric map out her body, her hot spots just the right of aching.

His hands massaged the muscles of her thighs and calves before returning to the lacey cotton underwear that was slick with her juices. Two fingers slid under the garment and curled when they reached her core, parting enflamed folds but going no deeper. Eric's fingers hovered there, brushing her nub lightly.

It took about a minute for Calleigh to conclude that he wasn't going to press further without some encouragement.

"ERIC." It was demand and plea and came out as breathy as it did loud. His response was a chuckle that was all masculine and annoying and Calleigh was so ready to teach him a thing or two about teasing, but that would require moving, so she just glared at him instead.

"Hey! You got to savor your desert. So should I." She then watched as he slowly removed his fingers and brought them to his mouth before licking them. Languidly. Making sure to get every drop. "Mmm. So good. Can I have more?"

She stripped off her underwear faster than she ever loaded her gun so he could lower his head between her thighs. Her fingers slipped into the short, coarse, dark locks of his hair as his tongue slid through the folds and began to lick. Stroke. Taste. Until she was shuddering.

Eric's hands went to her hips to hold her in place. Not tight enough to leave a bruise, but just barely. Electricity pulsed through her, her stomach tightening as she prepared to explode from pleasure. But it wasn't enough to bring her over the edge. Not yet.

Her skin was so sensitive, she could feel the perspiration beaded on it. Could feel wherever Eric touched her with the intensity of a barreling freight train. No one before had her so aroused, learned her body so quickly. God, all he had to do was put a little more pressure…

God, Eric couldn't believe it. That he was seeing Calleigh like this. Her skin glowing, her breath coming out in short gasps, her hands wrapped around the headboard, her eyes focused on him as if she was about to devour him. There weren't words to describe how happy he was that he was bringing her such pleasure, how turned on he was just watching her.

He drew her clit into his mouth again, and this time he meant business. He sucked it and sucked. Until she was ripped with a cataclysm of pleasure that had her shouting his name.

Calleigh didn't know exactly when she came back into her body, but when she did, Eric was crawling up to bed to lie beside her. His grin widen when their eyes met.

"So tell me, did I prove it?"

Calleigh blinked, feigning ignorance. "What?"

Eric shook his head, chuckling. He already knew that look. It told him more things than words ever could, although words on occasion would be nice.

Slowly but steadily, she smiled. She reached for him, slowly kissing him. "Give me a minute and I'll be the one showing you what squirming is."

There was a quiet chuckle. "I think I could become addicted to this." Turning down the covers, she slipped under and invited Eric to join her. "To you."

She turned to her side and Eric moved to hold her against his chest, his arms wrapped snuggly around her, the scent of her filling his nose.

"Stay the night," she asked drowsily. Just like she had asked the night before. And like the night before, Eric couldn't think of a better place to be.


The lyrics are from a Jewel song, "Break Me". I found parts of this chapter harder to write than expected (probably because I started in Eric's POV. Still not comfortable writing him yet) and found myself listening to " love " songs for inspiration. Just giving credit where credit's due...