Author's note: Still here, still writing. The last scene of this chapter has been giving me fits for several weeks. I still don't know if I like it or not. This chapter is also a bit longer than I usually write but I suspect no one will be too upset about that. I do hope you are all doing okay and staying safe and staying home (if you can).

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

"Which one of us are you going to take with you?"

"Who. . .Who said I'm t-taking anyone with me?" Walter countered, his brain scrabbling to come up with a plausible excuse not to include any of them. The only one he'd even consider would be Happy since she'd built the prototype for the solar panel retraction motors. But she hated speaking in front of a crowd. . . Plus even he knew how weird it would be to take his pregnant ex-wife with him.

"Because going to Sin City by yourself should be. . .well, a sin," Toby replied before sitting on the corner of the desk. "You're gonna need someone to sin with."

"No dice, Mister Gambling Addict," said Happy. "You're not going with him. Not without me."

The shrink took a moment to contemplate her statement. "Hey, 197, you could stay somewhere else and let me and Hap have the suite. We've been wanting to go on a little getaway before the baby's born." Toby batted his eyes at his wife before turning his fluttering gaze to Walter.

"She's not due for another three months," he pointed out, not amused by the behaviorist's antics. "You have plenty of time for a getaway. Besides, Elia gave it to me."

"You don't even know what's been dumped in your lap, do you?" Toby sounded exasperated. "A suite in one of the most expensive hotels on the Strip." He lifted his hat off his head and raked a hand through his hair. "What are you going to do in Vegas by yourself?" he whinged as he placed his fedora back on his head. "You don't gamble. You don't drink. You won't even pick up a showgirl. A guy with your looks. . . They'd be all over you too."

"So how the hell did you ever snag one?" Happy muttered angrily. The shrink wisely slid off the desk and moved a step away from his wife.

"I'm not going to pick up a showgirl," Walter said, his annoyance plain. Casual sex had never interested him. And anyway, he fully intended to be with Paige.

The psychiatrist rolled his eyes. "You're acting like a spinster defending her maidenly virtue."

"I'm not. . .I'm not like you, sleeping with showgirls and cocktail waitresses and bar maids. . ." Walter ignored Happy's indignant "Hey!" as he continued, "Physical contact. . . with a stranger. I can't, can't process it."

"You processed sleeping with that cheating bitch just fine," Happy snarled.

"That's because I love, I loved her," he said, quickly correcting his slip of the tongue before changing the course of the conversation. "Sylvester, you've been quiet."

"That's because I don't want to go," said the younger genius. "It's a dirty, nasty place and I hope I never have to go there again. Plus I can't go, my wizard coven is having a Fantasy and Frolics tournament this weekend."

"Thanks for the update from Nerd World. Now we can discuss my plan?" asked Toby. "Come on, Walt, you can't go alone."

"Elia was going by himself. . ."

"You think Mister Good-Looking Billionaire was going to Vegas by himself? How naive are you? He was going to show someone a good time. Or maybe he was gonna pick up a showgirl." The shrink waggled his eyebrows while grinning like an idiot.

"Whatever Elia had planned, it's not any of our business." Discussing the older man's personal life was beyond uncomfortable. The less Walter knew of it, the better.

"No, it's not. But you are," declared the psychiatrist. "Going to Las Vegas by yourself is nothing short of pathetic."

"This insanity has to stop." Walter rubbed his hand over his face.

"Why is it insane to want to see you happy?" Toby asked, his smile turning into a concerned frown.

"It's not," said Walter. "But you can't force me to be happy. I have to achieve it on my own, in my own time, and on my own terms."

"Yeah, but. . ." The psychiatrist started to protest before Happy cut him off.

"He's right," she stated. "You can't go around forcing happiness on people. And if you want to find anymore happiness with me, you need to stop bringing up showgirls."

"What have you got against showgirls?"

"Nothing," the mechanic growled, "It's what you've had against them that disgusts me."

"Not anymore disgusting than some of the jerks you've been with. . ."

Walter did his best to tune out the squabble the shrink and the mechanic seemed determined to have over their sexual histories. Glancing down at the tickets he still held in his hand, a brief examination yielded the fact they were not only admission to the event, but all access passes, including a cocktail get-together on Friday night and a VIP dinner on Saturday evening.

Happy and Toby wandered over to her workbench as they continued to bicker. Sylvester had retreated to his desk, his agitation manifesting into rearranging the clips on his pencil cup. Walter sat down at his own workstation, slipped his cell from his pocket and typed out a text to Paige with the news.

ooooo

Toby listened with half an ear as his pregnant wife railed at him about his previous sexual partners. A history he wasn't proud of by any means. But it was a discussion they'd had before, so focusing his attention away from her and to their boss seemed like a safe bet.

He watched as Walter got out his cell and sent a message, one which brought a grin to his face. Mr 197 was hiding something. That much was clear. But what, he hadn't quite figured out yet.

Toby doubted Walter was dating, despite the incident with the woman's sweater. The big dope was still hopelessly in love with Paige, even though she'd figuratively and literally broken his heart. And he worried that because of her infidelity, Walter had developed a distrust of women. But he needed to get over both Paige and his trust issues. He needed to learn to maintain a romantic relationship and the only way he could do that was if he found someone else.

Florence was out of the question, for obvious reasons, beside the fact he didn't know how to contact her. Linda was a no-go as well. He could hardly pull random women off the street to date his romantically impaired friend. Racking his brain for any available females he knew, he recalled the speculation he, Happy, and Sly had done a couple of weeks earlier about who Walter could have had up in his loft. One name leapt to mind.

Gloria. Gloria Svenson, the crypto-computer expert wrapped up in a stereotypical Swedish bombshell's body. She'd had it bad for Mr Clueless when they'd worked together a year or so ago. Maybe she still did. Only one way to find out. He was sure they still had her contact information on file.

"Are you even listening to me?" Happy's question drilled its way into his psyche.

Oh, shit. "Yes, you said I'm a disgusting pig and I'm lucky you put up with me," he improvised, mentally crossing his fingers.

"Damn right you are," she said as she picked up a screwdriver. "Now unless you want me to use this on you, I suggest you go find something to do that doesn't annoy me."

"Yes, Sugarplum," he said, catching the small twitch of her lips, no doubt caused by her thoughts of how she could apply her tools to his various body parts and orifices.

Leaning down, he gave her cheek a quick peck before scurrying off to his desk before she could put those ideas into practice.

ooooo

"Oh, God," Paige said as she walked into their suite. "This has to be bigger than my apartment."

Floor to ceiling windows stretched the entire length of the living room, showcasing an amazing view of the Strip below. Through a pair of glass sliding doors, she could see the bedroom. A wet bar, where a bottle of champagne rested in a bucket of ice alongside a bouquet of red roses, was next to an identical set of sliding doors on the opposite side of the room.

Walter walked out of the bedroom where he had deposited their luggage. "Remember when we were here before?" he asked. "The casino security case?"

"Yeah." The Golden Crimson case. . . The disaster of a case where Walter had been thrown in jail for a crime he didn't commit and when Toby had lost a quarter of a million dollars on the roulette wheel. The one where she'd zip-lined a couple hundred heart-stopping feet between two buildings in order to save Happy's ass. Not exactly one of Scorpion's shining moments. So why was he bringing it up?

"Remember when we were by the pool and I was trying to get everyone to focus. . ."

"And Toby and Happy were drinking mojitos and Sly was trying not look at women in bikinis and I was sipping a margarita?"

"Exactly." He closed the space between them. "You said you'd never have the chance to visit Las Vegas again. I, uh, I kinda hoped I'd bring you back here someday."

"Oh, that's so sweet, Walter," she said as she slipped her arms around his neck. "But why? We weren't. . ."

"I was already in love with you," he stated, intensely staring into her eyes. "Although I was too stubborn then to admit it to myself."

"Oh, God." She smashed her mouth to his and they kissed until she was weak in the knees. "Um," she said when they came up for air, "should we check out the rest of the suite?

"Sure." They walked hand in hand into the bedroom which also had floor to ceiling windows, making her glad they were on the 50th floor. A few more steps took them inside the bathroom where she let go of Walter's hand as she glanced around. A large shower dominated one corner, but it was the large whirlpool tub in the middle of the room which interested her the most. She was definitely going to try that out later.

Strolling back out into the living room, Paige wandered over to stand in front of the window, drawn by all the the twinkling lights. "I wondered where that beam shooting up into the sky was coming from when we were driving into town," she said as she pointed to her right.

"That's the 315,000 watt beam emanating from the tip of the Luxor," Walter said as he came over to stand beside her. "It's brightness is the equivalent of forty billion candles."

"That's a lot of candles." Paige reached for his hand and enmeshed her fingers with his, still not quite believing she was going to spend the weekend in a thousand dollar a night suite with the man she loved with all her heart.

"Las Vegas's power usage has been a source of contention for the last couple of decades," he said. "There's been a effort to switch to greener sources of energy and. . ." His voice trailed off. "Sorry, I. . ."

"That's okay," she said, giving his hand a squeeze. "I know you've been doing research for the presentation. I still think it's great Elia trusted you with it."

"I know. But it doesn't mean I should bore you with kilowatt hours and the amperage output of solar power." He looked at her again with a grin which always made her melt into a gooey puddle. "I did do some research on something a little more interesting."

Letting go of her hand, he picked up a tablet from the nearest end table. "These control the curtains. . ." He pressed the device and the curtains closed then reopened. "The lights. . ." The room grew dim then brighter. "And all the electronics in the suite," he said. The TV over the fireplace blared to life. "Oops." He quickly shut it off.

"That is pretty cool." Paige took the tablet when he held out it to her and she looked over its settings. She selected a circle which read "Music" and soft instrumental music began to play. Humming along for a few seconds, she recognized the Chris Isaak song "Wicked Game." She turned down the volume before setting the device back on the table.

"I think Toby was right," she said, recalling the conversation they'd had earlier in the car. "I think Elia was bringing someone he's romantically involved with, or at least he hoped to be." She gestured with her free hand toward the wet bar. "The champagne? The roses?" She narrowed her eyes at him as her mouth twitched. "You don't drink and you believe cut flowers are a waste of money so I don't think they were your idea, were they?"

"Uh, no. Elia must have forgot to cancel them when he transferred the reservation." Walter once again felt uncomfortable discussing the billionaire's love life. Deciding a change of topic was in order, he glanced at his watch. "Er, we have just-just enough time to get ready for the cocktail get-together at the Bellagio."

"Do we have to go?" Paige asked as she crossed her arms over her torso. "It's not mandatory or anything, is it?"

"No, it's optional." He didn't particularly want to attend either. Spending several hours making small talk with strangers who were doing their best to become inebriated. . . Not his idea of a good time.

"Good. Between working an early shift this morning and the drive here. . ." She stretched her arms as she yawned. "I'm beat. I think a good, long soak in that whirlpool tub is just what I need."

"Okay. I want to go over my presentation one more time," he said as images of Paige naked in a bathtub rushed to the forefront of his brain.

"Maybe we can order room service when I'm done?" She kissed him on the cheek before she headed off to the bedroom, presumably to prepare for her bath. Walter followed her, retrieving his laptop and the folder of notes from his backpack as she rummaged through her suitcase.

Trying in vain to clear his head of its prurient thoughts, he wandered back out in the living room. Another set of sliding glass doors were ajar enough he could see a boardroom style table surrounded by a dozen chairs. Slipping into the closest one, he set up his laptop and got to work.

After a few minutes, however, his attention drifted as he heard the whirlpool jets being activated, followed by splashing water. Closing his eyes, he could picture her relaxing in the tub, all hot and steamy and. . .

"Hey, Walter?"

"What?" he asked. The water had stopped running, making him wonder how long he'd been lost in his lascivious musing.

"Can you come here, please?"

"Okay." With a sigh, he got up and made his way to the bathroom. His feet came to an abrupt halt just inside its doorway at the sight of Paige lounging in the tub, covered in nothing but lavender scented bubbles. His pulse quickened, his body stirring at the tempting vision she presented. His earlier fantasies paled in comparison.

She sat up and pointed at a stack of towels on shelves under the double sinks. Her breasts rose out of the water, and he watched, mesmerized, as bubbles slid down their glistening slopes. "Can you please get me a washcloth? I forgot to get one before I got in," she asked.

It took his brain a long moment to process her request. "S-Sure." Tearing his gaze away from her, he spun around and plucked off the topmost cloth. "Here-Here you g-go."

"Thanks." She smiled up at him as she took it from him and draped it over the side of the tub

"Do. . .do you n-need anything else?" He hoped not. He was already on the verge of embarrassing himself.

"No. Thanks, sweetie."

"Okay." Taking a deep breath, he turned to leave.

"Wait. . ." she said as he was almost out of the room.

Walter stopped in his tracks. "D-Did you need something else?" he asked.

"Yes. Can you help wash my back?" she asked. He twisted around to see her holding up the now dampened cloth. "It's kinda stiff from sitting in the car for so long."

"Uh, o-okay." It wasn't an unusual request. He'd washed her back (and other body parts) before when they'd showered together. But the drive from Los Angeles hadn't been that long. . .only three hours and thirty-two minutes to be exact. She'd traveled longer distances before without complaint.

"Maybe you should take off your shirt so it doesn't get wet," she suggested as he reached for the cloth, gazing up at him, her bottom lip caught in her teeth.

Oh, boy. All the pieces fell into place. She was seducing him. And since he wasn't stupid. . . "Um, maybe I should take off my jeans, too. You know, so they won't get wet," he said as he started to unbutton his shirt.

"That's a great idea." She grinned up at him, her eyes twinkling with delight.

Walter finished taking off his shirt then shucked off his jeans, socks and shoes. Leaning over the tub, he dipped the wash cloth in the water before rubbing it gently against her back.

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking over her shoulder when he pulled away..

"This angle. . ..it isn't working. I, uh, I can't. . . I think I .need to get in the tub with you."

"If you're sure." Paige scooted forward as Walter took off his underwear. Once he was naked, he slid in behind her so her back pressed against his chest. "Oh, you're right," she said in a breathless voice when he recommenced washing her. "This is much better. Oh. . .my. . ."

He'd slid his hand holding the cloth around her waist and began washing the area around her belly button. ""I, uh, I thought you might. . .might need my, um, my assistance with this side too," he murmured before nibbling on her ear..

"Mmm. . .yeah, I do," she replied, her mind barely registering his words as he moved his hands to her breasts, where he used the cloth to circle each nipple. Arching her back, she moaned as desire swirled through her, pooling low in her belly.

"Are you still feeling stiff?" he asked between placing kisses down her neck and along her shoulder.

She shook her head, her breath coming in shallow pants. "Oh, maybe. . .maybe just a little. How 'bout you?"

"I, uh, yeah, me too," he replied in a slightly strangled tone as she wiggled against him. "I-I think I know a way to, uh, alleviate it though."

His hand which held the wash cloth drifted downward, skimming over her stomach before brushing between her thighs. Water sloshed out onto the floor as Paige griped the rim of the tub as he demonstrated he did, in fact, know several effective ways to relieve stiffness.