Chapter 21

AN: Thank you so much for your reviews, they make my day...Now on with the show...

Penelope felt kind of weak and kittenish after making love to Derek in the dressing room. Her legs were rubbery, and her inner thighs ached, as if she'd ridden a trick horse like Annie Oakley; she didn't know if she'd make it back to the hotel room, much less dancing or doing anything else tonight. She was so tired, she didn't even feel like dinner!

In her own defense, she did recognize that she'd only had a couple of hours of sleep...

After walking to yet another boutique, this one with Italian charms, she started dragging her feet. "Derek?"

"What, Baby Girl?" he replied, bringing her hand up to his mouth to kiss it.

"Can we take a break? Find a cafe or something?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

He drew her close to his body and kissed her forehead. "You tired, honey?"

It was a gesture he'd done a thousand times to her before. Since the ban on touching was obviously null and void, he had been constantly finding ways to have his hands or lips on her—brushing tendrils of her hair from her face if a desert wind blew by, caressing her back when they stood window shopping or gawking, resting an arm on her shoulders in a protective embrace, resting his thigh against hers when they sat. She thought about how he was back to normal, how good it felt to have him always touching her, caressing her... kissing her.

She also thought about how that really wasn't much different than in Quantico. It was such a part of their relationship. They were both so touchy-feely, so comfortable with each other.

She thought about the couple in the gondola, how they had caressed one another, and really wished that she could have that ride over again.

"I'm so sleepy," she said, right as a yawn overtook her. "Aren't you? You barely slept."

He gave her a crooked grin. "Sorry, sweetheart. I'm actually energized."

"You are not."

"It happens to some of us after we have sex," he explained.

She scowled at him with incredulous disbelief. That seemed so unfair!

"Oh, now don't look like that!" He leaned forward and kissed her nose. "Tell you what; you go up to your room and take a nap, I'll hit the gym and lift for awhile, and then I'll come get you about seven. I have plans for us—if I can get it all together."

"For what?" she asked, excited.

"Uh uh," he said, shaking his head. "This is going to be a surprise you won't forget."

"I hate surprises," she muttered sulkily.

He gave what Penelope thought was a masculine version of a giggle, and hugged her closer. "No, you don't really. You just think you do."

She grumbled, knowing that he was right, and then looked at her watch. That gave her about four hours to nap and get ready. "Okay, Hot Stuff. You have yourself a deal."

"Good," he replied, leaning down to kiss her lips.

Now that was one thing different than what they'd always done in the past, and she was happy about it.

He continued, "We'll have the surprise, and then we'll get down and dirty."

"I'm not good at that kind of dancing," she said as he lead her to the front door of the Bellagio and down the way to their shared elevator.

Derek arched a brow. "Who's talking about dancing?"

She rolled her eyes and slapped his arm as the door opened for them to board. "Screwball."

Hitting the button for his floor, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It was no little kiss; she was starting to think Derek didn't know how to give little kisses. He used his lips to nudge hers apart, and his tongue swept in to claim hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself closer to him.

They kissed until the elevator alarmed in warning.

"I suppose you should go," she said sadly, her mouth still pressed slightly against his lips.

He raised his head, only to bury his face in her neck. He held her tightly, as if the idea of letting her go was too painful for him to even consider.

"Derek… your workout," she said softly.

"I know." He sighed heavily, and then raised his head. "Me and my damned good intentions."

She smiled at him. "See you tonight, lover."

He touched the side of her face, cupping her cheek, and then turned to go.

Just as he stepped out, Penelope reached forward quickly and slapped his butt.

He turned to stare at her in surprise.

"Get to it, mister," she commanded with a wink. "No getting soft on me."

She could hear his chuckle just as the elevator doors closed.

Penelope had napped for just about two hours, when the telephone rang. She rolled over and reached for the receiver. Stretching luxuriously, she purred into the phone, "Hi, Hot Stuff."

"Ms. Garcia?"

She sat up, completely alert. "Um, yes?"

"This is the front desk."

She sighed. She thought maybe Derek had put in a wake up call for her.

The woman continued, "There's a delivery for you. Can I send the bellboy up?"

"Yes," she replied. "No problem."

A delivery? She couldn't think of what it might be. Unfortunately, her FBI history popped up, and some horrible things—like a severed head—came to mind. Mercifully, she didn't have too long to wait and dread; a knock sounded on her door fifteen minutes later.

"Here you go, ma'am. There are two boxes," the young man said with a smile. He had braces and looked about sixteen. Penelope handed him a tip, and he grinned even bigger, heading down the hall.

The first box was obviously from a florist and smelled like roses. It seemed that someone had been very, very busy this afternoon. She undid the florist's ribbon and saw eleven perfect red, damask pink, and yellow roses, and one big gerbera daisy, her favorite flower. She lifted them up, smelling their fragrant blossoms. There was no card, but she knew exactly who they came from. It was a shame, there was no vase to keep them in. She plugged the bathroom sink, filled it, and stuck them inside the basin.

Curious, she went to the other box. That one was huge, rectangular, and white, with a large red ribbon tied around it. Excitedly, she untied the ribbon, opened the lid, and shuffled through tissue paper.

"Oh… ohhhh… my…"

She couldn't form words; her throat constricted, and tears came to her eyes. It was her red dress—the red dress from the shop earlier. Carefully, she reached for the straps and began to unfold it from the box. A small envelope fell onto the floor.

She lay the exquisite dress aside, picked up the card, and opened it.

Baby Girl,

I really wanted to see what you looked like in that dress. This seemed to be the only way to get you to try it on.

Love, D

Holding the card against her heart, she smiled with watery eyes.

"I'm going to have to yell at you for this, Derek Morgan," she said softly.

Still smiling, she kissed the note, put it back in the big box, reached for the dress, and then made her way into the bathroom to start getting ready for their night.

Derek was just leaving the shower, when the phone rang in his room. With one towel looped around his waist and the other slung around his shoulders, he trotted over to answer the phone. "Yeah."

"Mr. Morgan?"

"Yes?" he replied, using another towel to dry his head and chest.

"You have a message here for you from a Ms. Garcia," the operator said. "May I send a bell boy up with the note?"

Derek looked at the clock. It was almost six thirty. He had time to shave and get ready before he had to get P. "Sure. Thanks."

"No problem, sir."

Derek had finished drying off, shaved, and was getting dressed, when the bellboy knocked.

"Mr. Morgan, sir?" he asked, holding out the letter.

Derek gave a decent tip to the young man, who smiled brilliantly with his metallic grin and ran down the hall.

Hot Stuff,

Come find me in the lounge on the second floor.

Love, P – aka The Lady in Red

Derek smiled and tapped the card on the back of his hand, before heading into the bathroom to finish dressing.