"Love is friendship on fire."
– Susan Sontag
Dave's phone chimed on the nightstand beside him. He reached blindly for it, peeling his eyes open, he clicked on the message. "Hm?" He grunted, staring at the notification from the bank, his credit card had been used to buy a plane ticket. What the hell was going on?" He laid the phone aside, intending to call the bank in the morning, when he could hold his eyes open.
"Dammit," Erin muttered, still in her place on the sofa, with her laptop on her knees. She tossed her useless, maxed out Visa back into her purse, Dave's platinum card was going to alert him and ruin her plan. She could only cross her fingers that he was in a deep enough sleep not to notice.
"Mr. Rossi is paying me a ridiculous amount of money to keep you safe, Ma'am. After what happened with the car last night, I don't like the idea of you leaving town by yourself." Richard said, from his hotel room, less than five-minutes from Erin's house. He paced the floor in front of the small window, sipping coffee from a paper cup.
"What do you suggest?" Erin asked, closing the nightstand, she dropped her makeup bag into her duffle bag and added her travel blanket on top.
"Let me go with you on the flight and I'll have one of my guys tailing you once you get to New Jersey." Richard offered.
"And there's no other way?" She asked, tamping down the rampant aggravation she felt. Being 'guarded' was getting old, fast.
"I don't want to interrupt your romantic gesture, anymore than you want me to-"
"But that's the only way," she cut him off, coldly and zipped her bag. "If that's it, then so be it."
The next morning, Erin stood in line at the TSA Pre-check section of the airport, with a note from her doctor, saying she was safe to fly, in the pocket of her purse. Somehow she'd talked the majority of the security guards into manning Peter's house, since all the kids were there. She already felt lighter as she followed the pathway and hitched her weekender bag higher on her arm. The kids were safe, with the private security protecting them and only one body guard and her head of security was following her. Her newly acquired quasi- freedom was equal parts wonderful and terrifying.
She slapped her ID and boarding pass on the scanner. Her eyes flicked towards the crowd on the other side of the aisle. They clambered for bins, some stood in their bare feet while others were busy yanking their shoes off and tossing them on the conveyor belt. For a moment, she was grateful for her FBI clearance, and the fact that she didn't have to take off her shoes. She glanced down and realized with a brief sense of surprise, that she couldn't even see her feet from her current position. The TSA agent ushered her through the checkpoint and she was free to find her gate.
"What are you doing, Erin?" Dave asked, when her phone went straight to voicemail for the third time. He took his wallet off the nightstand and opened it. He flipped through the various cards, making sure each one was accounted for. This only confirmed his suspicions.
A sharp rapping on the door interrupted his lame attempt at a decent voicemail. "Just a minute," he barked, hanging up the phone.
He yanked the door open, halfway hoping that his lady stood on the other side. Nah, he knew that wouldn't happen. She wasn't impulsive enough to show up unannounced. Which begged the question… who bought the ticket and where were they going? Either way, he knew she would explain once he talked to her.
"Good morning, Hotshot," The HBIC stalked into his room, with a folder clutched in her arms. Dave rolled his eyes at her theatrics, what his publicist lacked in genuine kindness and a friendly attitude, she made up for in business savvy. They made each other a lot of money and he only had to physically see her a few times a year.
"Hey," he mumbled, wide-eyed at her brazen-ness. "Do you march into all your client's rooms, Amanda?" He asked, snidely.
"Only when they're not fulfilling their part of the contract," she said, pulling up a chair.
"What the hell are you talking about?" He asked, more confused than annoyed.
"Your autograph count was low," she snapped. "We keep track of the prints and the merchandise-"
"You're splitting hairs, Amanda," he barked, without sitting down.
"You signed a contract and you're up for renewal at the end of the tour."
"Gee, thanks. What's my price this time, a kidney?" Her company took 35% off the top of his profits and their price went up every year.
"Just your time," she shot back, "sign all your fucking autographs today." She snarled and stalked towards the door. Dave could practically hear the cracking of the whip as she left.
"Yay for celebrity status," he rolled his eyes and pulled on his sportcoat, ready for another day of showboating.
Erin parked her rental car in front of the bookstore, she was following David's itinerary to the t. He was supposed to be there by 11am, she checked her watch then glanced around the parking lot. It was 10:15 and there was no sign of his town car. Damn. She debated calling him, but she didn't want to ruin the surprise for no reason. She plucked her coffee from the paper cup holder and took a sip. A paper bag of breakfast sandwiches sat in the passenger seat.
She knew David wouldn't eat the breakfast the hotel provided, which was probably why he'd been so miserable recently. She grabbed her phone from the glove compartment and turned it on, the screen lit up instantly as she laid her thumb on the home button. She dialed his number and waited.
"Your phone was off," he complained, without the courtesy of saying hello.
Shit. She hadn't come up with a lie. "Good morning." She placated, ignoring his brash tone. My phone died," she said, thinking quickly.
"What are you doing?" He asked, staring out the back window of the town car, the grey overcast did nothing to help his sour mood.
"Oh.." she glanced around the car, it could have been brand new off the lot. "I'm test driving a car."
"Sounds fun," his lips curled in a half smile. "What kind?"
"Chevy Tahoe, but I'm not a fan." That part was true.
"What's wrong with it," the driver turned into the parking lot of the bookstore.
"It's too bulky," she complained, glancing across the nearly empty parking lot. Only three cars sat in front of the brick building.
"I could see that," he said, climbing out of the car. He panned across the lot, parked in the far corner was a big, bulky Chevy Tahoe. "What color is it?" He asked, playing on a hunch, he got back in the car.
"Grey," she reached for the door handle, but still didn't see him. Still, she stepped gingerly out of the car, balancing on the running board before stepping onto the asphalt. She looked around, but still didn't see his car. She was about to give up and cut him in on the joke, when an echo sounded in her ear. She shoved her phone into the pocket of her blazer and walked towards him.
"Erin," his footsteps slowed in surprise. Just because he thought she was there, didn't make him less surprised to see her, standing against the SUV, clad in jeans, a flowy tank top and a blazer. He walked towards her, amazed at how someone who couldn't walk into a grocery store without her gun, got on an airplane. For him.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, with his hands on either side of her face, kissing her cheeks, without waiting for a response. A sudden thrill shot through his system and his face was alight with surprise, when she wrapped her arms around his neck and pecked his lips.
"I didn't mean to badger you-" he said, pulling back slightly, suddenly full of tenderness.
"Eh," she shrugged, ignoring the soft hint of guilt in his tone. "It was an hour flight and you bought the ticket. Also..." she pulled a small slip of paper from her purse. "I wanted to give you this, in person."
Dave took the picture, a clear outline of a foot showed against the grey and black film. "He's bigger," he remarked, his chest swelled with paternal pride. "I'm glad you're here," he squeezed her cold hands in his warm ones.
"I almost didn't see you," she admitted, "another few minutes and I would have gone home," she was only half teasing.
"We circled around the building first," he admitted, moving his hands around her waist.
"So you were screwing with me?" She admonished, lightly slapping his chest.
"You started it," he said, pointing out the obvious.
"How?"
"When you turned off your phone."
"How else was I going to half-ass surprise you, when your card company sent an alert as soon as I bought the ticket?"
"Doesn't matter," he finally released her waist, opting for her hand instead. "When did you get here?"
"My flight landed at 7:30 this morning. I thought we could spend the day together-"
"7:30?" He sneered, his nose curled in disgust, "when did you sleep?" They'd hung up the phone at midnight and the alert from the credit card company came in at 2am. "Listen, I'm looking at a full day here." He gestured towards the parking lot that gradually began to fill. "You don't have to be here for the first session," he reached into his breast pocket and found the room key. "Go back to the hotel and take a nap-"
"Put that away, David," Erin said sternly. "I want to be here for you, not holed up in your hotel room."
"I don't want to wear you out," he insisted.
"You won't. Now stop worrying before you run out of time to enjoy this. She handed him the grease soaked bag."I brought you breakfast."
"God, you're a saint," he grumbled, planting another kiss on her temple. "I'm starving." Still he sat the bag and coffee back on the seat. "Let's eat here," he moved the coffee and the bag off the seat and went around to the driver's side and climbed in. "This might be the last time we're alone for the next few hours," he said, closing the car door.
"Eat," she insisted, pressing a sandwich into his hand before unwrapping her own. "I'm surprised you don't have a bigger venue," she said, observing the older, but well-maintained brick building.
"It's family-owned," he shrugged and bit into the egg and cheese sandwich. "I thought the tour turnout would bring them more business,"
How was he always thinking of the greater good? "So you never turn it off?" She asked, raising a suspicious brow.
"Turn what off?"
"The never-ending altruism," She took another sip of coffee and continued, "do you ever think of yourself?"
He took a sip of his coffee, just to buy time, his neck prickled under her gaze. "I don't need to." He put his cup in the cup holder and took her hand, resting them against the center console. "You're more altruistic than you realize." It wasn't often that someone was willing to take a red-eye flight and drive over an hour from the airport, just to hang out at a bookstore and watch him sign autographs, without being asked.
"You're a special case," she said, in a tone dryer than the Mojave Desert.
"And I'm supposed to take that as a compliment," he teased, the corners of his lips turned up.
"You really should," she said, patting his hand. "You'll be late," she said, gesturing to her wristwatch.
"Are you sure you're not too tired?" He asked again, "I can drive you-"
"No," she said sternly. "Stop asking me."
"Is that your Section Chief voice?" He asked, with a smile.
"Heaven's no. Not when I know you deliberately ignore that voice, agent Rossi." She nodded and dropped her sandwich wrapper back in the greasy paper bag. "I'm just making sure you remember what it sounds like."
"Like I'd forget," he opened the car door and stepped out.
"There's a cooler in the trunk," Erin said, gathering their breakfast trash. She took the last sip of her coffee and put the cup in the bag, before getting out of the car.
"Why?" He asked, walking around towards the trunk.
"You'll get thirsty," she answered, as if it were obvious. She treated Dave's tour the way she treated Paul's soccer games when he was on a travelling team. She kept a cooler full of ice and bottled water and snacks in the trunk.
"You thought of everything," he said, grabbing the small cooler and the bag beside it.
"You can hide it under your table," she said, walking beside him, she tossed the paper bag in the trash can outside the entrance to the bookstore. "Don't overdo it," Dave said, holding the door open.
"Where do you want me?" She asked, surveying the bookstore. A small stage was set up in the back of the room; rows of folding chairs sat in front of it.
"Uh…" He looked around the room, he wasn't prepared for that. "I didn't bring you here to work-"
"You didn't bring me…" she countered.
"But you do understand my point, don't you?" He asked, and began setting up his workspace a few feet away from the stage. "But if you insist-"
"I insist-"
"Fine. The price of the autograph is included in the ticket," Dave said, gesturing to the box of books, waiting to be autographed and personalized bookmarks on the table. "Can you hand them out?"
"Of course," Erin went around the table and started putting bookmarks between book covers before the crowd arrived.
"There you are," Amanda said, even her pleasant tone sounded snippy. "I thought you were never coming in," she said. Adjusting the tablecloth where he would be sitting during the sale portion of the event.
"I'm here, Amanda." He bit out, tired of his publicist's snotty attitude.
"Uh huh," Amanda looked around the store, she gestured one red claw towards the corner of the room where Erin sat. "Who's that?"
"That's Erin and I invited her here," he said, daring her to question him.
"The flavor of the week, huh?" Amanda deadpanned, sizing Erin up from across the room. "She's pretty."
"Is it impossible for you to be nice about anything?" Dave asked, frowning.
"Probably." Amanda replied, shrugging her shoulders. "Introduce us, later," she said, in a tone that suggested she'd rather do anything else.
"She's not what you think, I'm serious about her," he insisted, lest she get the wrong idea.
Amanda clicked her tongue reproachfully and shook her head. "You always are, David."
"Oh look!" Dave gestured across the room, "here she comes now," He took Erin by the hand, squeezing her fingers as she approached him. "Erin, this is my publicist, Amanda."
Amanda eyed Erin up and down, trying to guage her relationship with her client. "Charmed." Then she walked away before Erin could respond.
Erin's gaze burned holes into the other woman's back. "Now I know where she got her nickname," she said, so low only he could hear.
Dave rolled his eyes. Amanda was a piece of work most days, but she was really pushing it now. "I'll deal with her."
Dave looked over the crowd from his place on the stage, the small family-owned bookstore was packed to the brim. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, drinking in his every word. He knew he could read the phone book aloud and this particular crowd would pay attention.
He caught Erin's eye from the back of the room and his smile widened when she winked at him. "Okay…" He addressed the crowd with renewed confidence. He stood with his hands clasped in front of him. "If anyone has any questions, now would be the time to ask."
A young man in the middle row stood from his seat. "Agent Rossi, when you were a kid, did you picture yourself doing this?" He asked, running his hand through his sandy hair.
Dave chuckled, "Not at all. I wanted to play for the Cubs-" Good natured laughter rippled through the crowd. "Who's next?"
"Agent Rossi?" A middle-aged woman with short hair and red lipstick raised her hand.
"Yes, in the front row." Dave gestured to her and she stood up.
"Are you married?" The woman purred, eyeing him up and down. Heat crept up his neck, as this woman undressed him with her eyes.
"Well," Dave cleared his throat. "You saw my better half on the way in," He said, catching Erin's eye again. "Come on up here, Cara Mia."
Erin stepped forward, maneuvering around the cluster of chairs. He held out his hand and helped her onto the platform.
"Do you have children?" Another woman asked, from the back row. The questions came rapid fire now.
"Four," he answered, watching Erin lay her hand on her bump emphasizing the point. "Three teenagers and a baby on the way." He clarified, unsure why it mattered when he was never going to see these people again.
A low whistle came from the back of the crowd,"David Rossi, the family man…. What is this, your fourth…wife? Girlfriend?"
"Not relevant," He bit out. Erin squeezed his hand, silently intertwining their fingers."Unfortunately, that's all the time we have," Dave stepped forward towards the edge of the dais. "If anyone would like their book signed, come see me at my table."
"Are you alright?" Erin whispered as Dave helped her off the platform.
"Are you?" He countered as she stepped onto the floor. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something about having his relationships and his family criticized took a bite out of his ego.
Erin gave his arm an affectionate squeeze. "You're not getting rid of me that easily. Now, I'm going to…" she gestured around the room. "Look around."
"Go for it," he pressed a quick kiss to the side of her hair. "See you later."
As the afternoon wore on, the crowd seemed to grow. Erin kept towards the back of the store, she watched Dave and meandered among the bookshelves.
She loved watching him work the crowd, he was born for the limelight, even if he didn't know it. Even now, when he sat at a table in the front of the store, she couldn't hear exactly what he was saying but she knew he was making each person who approached him feel like the only person in the room, his best and worst quality.
"Agent Rossi's taking a short break," Amanda addressed the line of people anxiously waiting for their face-to-face meeting with the famous David Rossi.
The hair on the back of Erin's neck prickled. There was something in Amanda's tone…that didn't sit right. She wouldn't interrupt him, but there was something about his publicist that she didn't like, something more than her awful attitude. It was deeper than that. Starting with the way she curled her hand around his arm, leading him in Erin's direction, across the store. She didn't intend to eavesdrop, but she wasn't going to do anything to prevent it either. She watched as Amanda practically dragged Dave into the corner of the room.
"What now?" He hissed, annoyed at being interrupted. "You wanted me here to interact with fans and drum up publicity, but you keep interrupting me-"
"You can't cut the Q and A session after three questions," Amanda clenched her jaw, "These people paid to have a conversation with you."
"I stopped it when the questions got invasive, Amanda." He didn't want to put Erin on the spot or make her feel less-than because they weren't married.
"You can't do that-" Amanda argued.
"I did. Now, if you'll excuse me, people paid to have a conversation and I'm going to give them what they paid for," he turned on his heel and went back towards his seat.
Erin stood up and caught his eye. "Everything okay?" She asked, he bounced his foot agitatedly, eyes darting from her to the line of people waiting for him and back again. "I-I'm alright," he held up his hand. "Thanks-I-uh-I gotta go."
She watched him hurry back to the crowd with a bright, artificial smile plastered on his face.
"So," Dave took the cooler from Erin and led her out into the late afternoon sun and across the parking lot. "What did you think?" He asked, nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet, happier than ever to be outside.
"I think I need to finish reading your book," she answered. "You hooked me on the first page."
"Thank you," he beamed, the quiet glow of success radiated off of him.
"You never told me about Zoe… she sounds like a very bright girl."
"Her mom said she would have wanted the story told." Dave nodded, "So that's what I did." He sounded regretful. They got to her car and she unlocked the doors with the remote.
"You're driving," she held out the keys for him. The lack of sleep suddenly caught up to her.
"My pleasure," he took the keys and draped his arm across her shoulders, squeezing her affectionately. "Where are we going?" The sun was starting to peek out from behind the clouds and the temperature hung around in the low 70s. The weather was perfect for spending time outside.
"Surprise me," she said, intent on climbing into the SUV. Regretting her choice in rental cars immediately.
"You got it?" Dave asked, watching her closely. She had her hand on the overhead bar and lifted her foot onto the edge of the running board. "Ouch!" Her foot lost its traction and her shin hit the wet plastic and her eyes watered.
"Let me help," he jogged around to her side of the car. "Are you okay?"
"I should have gotten a smaller car," she complained, rubbing her shin. "I wanted to try out something with a third row."
"We can cross the Tahoe off your list," he walked up behind her. "I think you just wanted me to grab your butt," he mumbled in her ear. His palm spread possessively across her jean-clad ass to prove the point.
"Maybe," she leaned into his touch, sudden flickers of desire stirred in her belly.
He chuckled low in his throat, squeezing the curve of her butt. Boosting her into the seat. "All you had to do was ask."
"It's freezing in here-" Erin said, shifting the bag of produce higher on her shoulder.
"Who runs the A/C when the temp drops by 15 degrees?" Dave complained, fishing through his pockets for the room key and balancing a paper bag in his arms.
"I don't think it dropped, David."
"Whatever," Dave slid the key card into the slot and quickly withdrew it to unlock the door. "I'm cold and wet-" He said, turning the door handle and letting them in. He held the door for her, then followed behind, he sat a paper bag down on the table that contained the heavier purchases from the Farmer's Market.
"I don't know what you're complaining about. You won't melt. I'm the wicked witch in this relationship." She said, laying the bag on the table. She slipped off her shoes, the rain had soaked her ballet flats, leaving them a sopping mess.
Dave crossed the room and turned the dials on the air conditioner. Until the air turned warm. "I don't think you're either of those things," he said, "I don't think you believe it either."
"I don't," she shrugged off her wet blazer and hung it on the back of a chair. Then started unpacking their purchases. "Are you hungry?" She opened the package of crackers and took one from the sleeve.
"No, thanks." He took his bag from the closet and rifled through his clothing options. "Are you?"
"Not really," she grabbed her bag from the corner of the room, intent on changing into dry clothes. "We almost beat the storm," Erin remarked, gazing through the plate glass window on the french doors leading to the balcony. A cold breeze blew through the edge of the doors, she crossed her arms to ward off the sudden chill and closed the curtains.
"Almost, being the operative word." Dave grumbled, sliding off his loafers and peeled off his wet socks. He pulled out a clean V-neck t-shirt and sweatpants. The universal sign that he wasn't planning to leave the hotel room. "Want to rent a movie?" He asked, shrugging off his sport coat and hanging it on a chair beside hers.
"Is that what you normally do on tour?" She asked, sliding out of her jeans and into her favorite pair of fuzzy pajama pants. .
"Not usually, but I cleared it with Amanda."
"I'm sure she wasn't thrilled about that," Erin said, annoyed as she looked through her stack of clothes in her weekender and came up short.
"She'll live," he said mildly and pulled on his sweats. Then grabbed a sweatshirt from the top of his go-bag. "As far as I'm concerned, we don't have anywhere to be." He said, crossing the room, he held out the old navy blue FBI sweatshirt. "Try this on,"
"Thanks," she took the shirt and laid it aside.
"I got this," he slid the thin, damp tank top over her head and tossed it to the side. "Whatdya say," he planted a warm kiss against the cold skin of her shoulder. "We rent a movie for the background noise, then crawl under the covers and warm each other up?" He asked, running the pads of his thumbs across her shoulders, pushing down the straps of her bra. Then reached around and cupped the soft fabric in his hands, teasing her nipples as they hardened under his touch.
She hummed in agreement, leaning into his touch as he worked his way down her back, massaging the tense muscles. "That sounds nice."
"Come on," he pulled back the blankets on the bed before shrugging off his damp button-down shirt and climbing into bed.
"Move over," She laid down beside him, throwing her leg over his.
"You're freezing-" Dave complained, shivering when her foot touched his.
She pulled the blankets up to her chin. "I guess you'll just have to hold me closer."
"Come here," he put his arm around her and pulled her towards him, her head landed squarely on his chest. They laid there, listening to the echoes of the rain bouncing off the metal roof.
He lifted her chin and brushed a damp lock of hair out of her face. "How ya doing?"
"I'm good." She meant it, "I'm having a great time. How about you?"
"Why is it that a place like this," he motioned around the plain, small, cheap room,"Is so much more fun with you?"
"Because that's what I was going for." She brushed a tender kiss across his lips, slowly softly taking his lips in hers. After reading the dedication page of his newest book, she knew this tour was harder on him than he let on.
He shifted, leaving her against the mattress, he raised up, balancing his weight on his arm. Holding himself above her, deepening the kissed like they were starving and the other person was the only thing that could fill the void. Her hands ran down his strong chest and abdomen. The muscles weren't well defined, but his strength was evident from the way he balanced himself above her. She knew he could toss her around like a ragdoll if he wanted to.
He pulled back, moving his lips to the side of her neck, paying special attention to her pulse point. The light scent of her perfume spurred him on. He didn't know how to explain it, but having her there, knowing he had someone in his corner, made everything better. The Rossi men loved a grand, romantic gesture, but he wasn't used to being on the receiving end. With that in mind, he followed the natural curve of her body with his mouth. Taking his time, taking care of her body the way she took care of his mind.
"Dave," she arched her back off the mattress as his hands cupped her breasts, through the fabric. 'Pull this thing off." She sat up, wrapping her arms around his neck, nipping his collarbone, as he unclasped her bra and tossed it to the side while her hands gently raked down his back.
"Your wish is my command." He took her nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. "Tell me when to stop," He loved her like this; soft and vulnerable, in a way the rest of the world didn't get to see.
"Keep going," she writhed against the rough cotton sheets as sparks of attraction shot through her core. Her eyes shut, concentrating on the fireworks bursting behind her eyelids; but she knew how he looked at her. Any time he had her like this, naked and vulnerable, he looked at her as if she'd hung the moon. She would never tell him, but he was the only man to make her body hum with desire, so quickly.
Damn if that wasn't good for her ego… if anyone told her 20 years ago, that David Rossi would one day, look at her that way… she would have made sure they were locked in a padded room.
This was the only time she could be free, she could drop her baggage at the door and enjoy him. His hands. His mouth… his 5 o'clock shadow, as he did wonderful things to her body. Tantalizing, dirty things that made her body tingle with pleasure, from the bottom of her feet to the top of her head, her skin hummed as his expert tongue darted in and out of her.
His voice strained with lust. "How do you want it?"
"Come here," she turned onto her side, tugging him onto the bed beside her.
"You taste so good," he mumbled, his dark eyes shining with lust and desire. He planted his lips on hers. Giving her the opportunity to taste herself. He grabbed her hip, hiking her leg over his hip, squeezing her ass.
"Dave-" Her eyes went wide at his wild, hungry expression. "Not too fast."
"It's okay. We'll go slow," he assured her, eyes dark with lust. He pulled her close, revelling in the way her heart sped against him. The way he made her body sing, he never asked, but he had a feeling that he was the only man to make her feel that way.
She kept her eyes on him, running her hands through his hair. He needed a haircut…his graying locks were starting to curl.
He slipped inside, slowly filling her to the hilt. "Dave-" she gasped, leaving crescent shaped indentations on his shoulders. He moved slowly, savoring the moment. He wanted to make this last. He kissed her neck. "I love you," he mumbled, against her skin, running his tongue against the shell of her ear. "I love you, Erin." He ran his fingers through her hair, keeping the rhythm going. "I'm glad you're here."
"I love you too…" She sat up slightly, changing the angle. Anchoring herself, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"I can't-It's too much-" she squeezed her eyes shut, tumbling closer and closer to the precipice. As her inner core wound impossibly tighter.
"You can take it," he whispered, tangling his hand in her hair, the way he knew she liked it.
Suddenly, her muscles clenched against him, His lips covered hers, swallowing her screams of pleasure sending them both over the edge into Earth-shattering ecstasy.
"It's okay….just feel it, Cara Mia. Lean in." He mumbled against her shoulder, holding her tightly.
"Still cold?" Dave asked, as she opened her eyes, staring at him with a sleepy, dewy eyed expression.
"I'm all warmed up now," She said, with her head on his chest, throwing her arm possessively across his waist.
"Thank you," he said, burying his face in her hair. "For being here."
"What are better-halfs for?" She asked, referencing how he'd introduced her to the flocks of fans, clustered around him in the bookstore.
"Well.. I-uh- don't like the word 'girlfriend' and we're not married yet."
"I like it," she smiled softly. "It sounds better than fiance," she shook her head. She didn't want to be one of those women with a perpetual fiance and a gaggle of children.
"So, you agree that we're getting married?" He asked hopefully. He hated the idea of his son not carrying his last name, so marrying Erin, sleeping with Erin every night for the rest of his life wasn't a bad tradeoff. Even if he wasn't so keen about marching down the aisle at this moment, he wanted to. He just wasn't sure if she did.
"Pretty sure, but for right now, can we just agree that I'm your better half?"
"I can live with that," He smiled, dropping a kiss on her shoulder he wrapped his arms around her waist and absently traced an invisible pattern over her stomach. "Are you still not tired?" He asked when he felt her body sag against his.
"What about you? You were up as late as I was."
"I'm fine," he shrugged offhandedly, his lips twitched upwards. "My blood type is espresso."
"Braggart," she teased and swatted him on the chest. She'd cut back to one cup of coffee per day as her doctor recommended, when Carlo's heartbeat was higher than normal.
"How are you doing with that?"
"It's not as bad as I anticipated," she answered.
"So, it sucks?" He knew her better than she gave him credit for.
"It really sucks," she huffed.
"Sorry, Babe. What about cigarettes?" He'd rather see her down a gallon of coffee than to see her smoke.
"I haven't smoked at all this month," she said, with just a touch of pride. "I never smoked enough to make it hard to quit."
"You're less stressed since we called off the investigation." When the director forced them to stop, Dave didn't argue. Still, he couldn't ignore his gut feeling that this wasn't over.
"That's really no excuse-" she said.
"Maybe not, but you quit, now." There was no point in holding it over her head, making her feel like shit wouldn't help anything. They laid there, silently the sound of the rain pinging off the windows was the only thing rivalling their heartbeats. "I appreciate this," He planted another kiss against her neck, the light scent of her perfume filled his nostrils. "Thank you for coming up here... and having my back."
"You keep saying that…" she sat up just enough to look him in the eye. "What's wrong, David? Why didn't you want to come on tour?"
He sighed heavily, his shoulders drooped. She looked at him, full of compassion, ready to listen to his troubles. "I didn't want to promote this book," he admitted, still holding her close. "I didn't even want to write it…it felt too…personal. Zoe was just a kid…" he sighed, thinking back to the case from five years ago. "I was one of the last people to talk to her…she didn't deserve what happened to her and I don't want to make money off her death."
"I know," she held him tighter. She read the case file, after the unsub was apprehended. "But, you caught the killer, he can't hurt anyone else," she said, running her hand over his back.
He pulled back slightly, "I didn't think…" he cleared his throat, "I know I wanted you to come up here, I just didn't think I needed you to."
"What charity are your profits going to?" She asked, when he said he didn't want to profit off something, he meant it. He would do everything he could to clear his conscience.
"Her mother asked for a hefty donation to a domestic violence shelter. The IRS has limits on how much I can donate, but after the shelter, I wrote a check in Zoe's name for a donation to her college. After that…" he shrugged, "I guess we'll have to see."
"Speaking of books..." She said, treading carefully. "I… overheard what Amanda said to you today…." Erin pulled away just enough to run her fingers through his hair. "I don't like the way she talks to you."
"She's a hardass," Dave said, nonchalantly. "It's not a big deal." He'd learned to roll with the punches, when it came to his publicist. She ran the show and he made a pile of money. It was a win-win.
"Someone needs to let her know that the only person allowed to ride your ass like that is me," Erin said in a thinly veiled threat.
"Please don't," he mumbled, laying his head against her breasts; he listened to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat in his ear.
"Only because you asked me not to," she said, still playing with his hair as his breathing started to even out. "Are you tired?"
"I'm the happiest man alive," he mumbled, without looking up.
"Only because you have a faceful of my tits-"
"Probably not," he said, planting kisses on each of them, "but Mickey and Minnie are definitely helping the situation."
"I wasn't aware that my boobs had a nickname-"
"They didn't, until just now." He said, holding back a yawn. "Hotel sex is the best kind, hotel sex with someone who is rapidly becoming my favorite person, is sublime."
She smirked, running her hand suggestively down his back, resting on his butt. "You're not so bad yourself."
"I'm sorry to cut the pillowtalk short." He yawned and said, "I just realized that I'm a tired and overworked old man," he complained and flopped onto his back, throwing his arm across her lap, not wanting to break the physical contact.
"So much for 'espresso is my blood type,' she said, in an exaggerated deep voice.
"Cut me a break, Woman." He groaned, leaning further into her side, with his face pressed against her hip. "This is as close to a vacation as I'm going to get, and I still have to work."
She ran her fingers through his hair, trailing her hand down his jawline. She brushed her knuckles against his five-o-clock shadow until his eyes closed.
"It's almost over," she said, "We'll go home tomorrow."
"After a 15 hour day," he complained. "A 15 hour day of singing for my supper."
"I know," she cooed, "my poor overworked, old man…"
His head shot up, brows furrowed. "Who are you callin' poor?"
"And these 15 hour days you're complaining about, are exactly why you can make that joke."
"I'm just saying, 15 hours with the BAU usually ends with putting a bad guy behind bars- with this…I don't know, I feel like a prized show pony."
"You're my prized show pony," she hummed, running her hands up his chest. He sat up, just enough to lay his head on her chest.
"I thought you wanted to sleep,"
"I do. Right here," He mumbled. His goatee scratched gently against her delicate skin as he buried his face in her cleavage, palming the underside of her breasts.
Three quick knocks on the door interrupted her response. "Dave!"
Another three, urgent knocks.
"Should we get that?" Erin asked, flashing a coy smile.
"I'd rather not." Dave mumbled, against her collar bone.
"Agent Rossi!" There was another round of furious knocking at the door.
"Dammit!" Dave swore, lifting his head.
"You should get it," Erin sat up and glanced around the room. The blankets were in a heap on the floor and their clothes were scattered around the room."I'll uh-"
Dave rolled his eyes, annoyed at the interruption. "Go hide in the bathroom, I'll see what she wants."
Erin nodded, she didn't want to be caught in the act anymore than he did. She got up and grabbed some clothes out of her bag. "What do you want, Amanda?" He growled, yanking on his pants as he walked Erin to the bathroom, he waited for her to close the door.
"Open up!" Amanda said sharply. "DAVID!"
Dave yanked the door open. His publicist stood in the hallway, holding a Fedex package and tapping her foot impatiently.
"I hate to interrupt," she pushed past him and dropped the package on the table. "I hate to interrupt…" she gestured around the room, taking in the sheets and the tangle of clothes and bed linens on the floor. Combined with the annoyed expression on her client's face, "Whatever this is,"
"That's a lie." Dave grumbled. "You're not sorry."
"Maybe. Now, this." She lifted the package. "Came for you and got dropped at my room by mistake. I didn't see it until we got back from the bookstore.
He glanced at the envelope, a package, sent from the FBI. His heartbeat quickened, something wasn't right. "Thanks. You should wash your hands," he directed her to the freestanding sink in the corner of the room and tossed her a hand towel.
"What is this?" Erin emerged from the bathroom, she'd changed into his FBI sweatshirt and leggings.
"Where's the first aid kit?" Dave asked, he grabbed a pen off the nightstand and carefully lifted the envelope with the tip of the pen, inspecting it.
"What's this?" Amanda asked, "why did they bring it to me-"
"Here," Erin pulled a small plastic case from her carryon and brought him the plastic gloves, completely ignoring Amanda.
"Thanks-" Dave said, laying down the envelope.
"What is this?" Amanda cut in, louder this time."What's going on?"
"I don't know," Dave went to the closet and pulled his penlight from his bag; then put on the gloves and carefully tore the end of the envelope, with his heart pounding in his throat. Even Amanda knew to keep her mouth shut.
"Sweetheart?" Dave's voice was tense as he peered into the envelope, shining the light inside. "Where's Carlo's picture?"
"It's in my purse-" Erin said quickly. She crossed her arms protectively over her chest, warding off the chill that slipped through her."Why?" She crossed the room, grabbed her purse and poured the contents onto the bed, scrambling for the ultrasound printout.
"I don't think it is," he tipped over the envelope, scattering pieces of a black and white thermal paper across the table.
"I got it!" Erin held up the picture triumphantly. Slightly calmer, that it hadn't been stolen from her purse.
"Then…" Dave turned over each piece of the picture, slowly piecing the photograph together. "Whose is this?"
"Look," Erin pulled on a pair of gloves. "It's cut, in perfect squares, not torn."
"So this was planned…not impulsive…" Dave said, finishing her thought.
"It's addressed to you," Erin said. "Why would someone send this to you? I thought I was the target."
"Target?" Amanda's eyes widened, "for what!" What the hell did David Rossi get her involved with?
"To spook me…" Dave said, ignoring Amanda. "They're saying,'I know everything about you.' They're telling me, 'I know where you live…I know where you work…you can't hide from me."
"How did it get to me?" Amanda cut in, from her corner of the room, closest to the door. "Usually the mail would be left at the front desk."
"That's a good point," Erin said. "Who else knew where you all would be staying?"
"The tour schedule is posted online," Amanda stepped backwards, closer to the door. The faster she got back to New York, the better. When weird shit happened there, it didn't involve her. "But we don't advertise where we're staying."
Dave grabbed his phone off the nightstand, "I'm calling Hotch. We're going to figure this out." He didn't know if this would finally be the break they needed, but he wasn't about to ignore it.