~V~

"The wasnufheetig thereto startire."

Poking his head out from behind the crinkled shower curtain, Lee cast a curious glance at his wife. "Care to translate that?" he demanded, sending a few errant drops of water cascading to the floor as he gave his head a vigorous shake.

Amanda swished the toothbrush around one last time, holding the top of her towel closed as she bent over the sink. "I said," she repeated slowly and distinctly as she finished rinsing, "there was enough heat in there to start a fire."

"Oh, *that's* what you said," he laughed, pushing his dripping hair back from his face. "I thought for a minute you'd been working with codes and ciphers on the sly."

"Very funny," she groaned, her sarcasm unmistakable. "I'm glad you find the situation so amusing, but I'm really worried." Shoving her toothbrush forcefully into its plastic tube, she looked down at the rapidly dampening floor with a small frown. "Lee, you're getting water everywhere."

He flashed her a tantalizing grin. "That's easily fixed. Just come in here with me."

"No time," Amanda replied, shooting him a regretful smile as she pulled her towel tighter across her chest. "The banquet starts in forty-five minutes."

"Spoilsport," he mumbled, yanking the curtain closed with an exaggerated motion.  Standing under the spray, he closed his eyes, letting the needle-sharp streams of water beat over him. "I think you're blowing this thing with Joe and Carrie way out of proportion," he called, wiping his face as he turned his back to the showerhead. "Everything seemed fine at the football game."

"Trust me, it wasn't so fine in good old 'Jimbo's' office."

He shook his head. "'Jimbo?'"

"Professor Walters." She rolled her eyes. "Evidently his 'good friends' all call him that, or so he informed us."

"You've got to be kidding," he mumbled disparagingly under his breath. "Now I'm certain the man's an idiot. I haven't heard anyone actually called 'Jimbo' since I was sixteen." Shutting off the water, he reached a hand around to the towel bar, his fingers encountering nothing but air. Pulling back the curtain slightly, he found himself staring at an empty room. "Amanda," he called, his voice reverberating in the small space. "Could you do me a favor?"

She materialized suddenly in the doorway, one knee bent as she leaned against the frame, and Lee's eyes widened. "Did you say something?" she inquired in a soft voice.

Lee gave her a long, lingering look, his dimples deepening as he took in every last nuance.  "Could you bring me a towel?" he asked innocently. "Mine seems to have grown two very sexy legs and walked away."

Her lips curved up in an evocative smile. "Uh-uh, Stetson," she stated with a throaty laugh as she grabbed a towel from the shelf above the sink. Careful to keep her distance, she tossed it to him.  "I've fallen for that line one too many times. Dinner, remember?"

"How could I forget?" he murmured to his wife's retreating form. Quickly drying off, he knotted the bath towel around his waist, following her over to the open closet door. "Need some help?" he whispered, his finger tracing the edge of the towel along her back.

"Cut it out," she told him with mock sternness, wiggling her shoulders as she stepped to one side.  Reaching for her blue dress, she added, "I've got to get out of this towel."

Inching closer, he let his breath lightly tickle her ear. "I couldn't agree more."

"Lee," she entreated, a note of desperation in her tone, "It's getting late."

"Oh, I know," he returned, his voice deep and low. Feeling her weakening, he pressed his advantage. Pulling her hair to one side, he kissed her neck, his lips following an invisible line down to her shoulder.  "I've been waiting all day to do this," he murmured with unabashed longing. He snaked his free hand between the folds of her towel, stroking his fingers across her hip as he pulled her tightly against him.

"Oh, Lee," she sighed, one hand reaching behind her to finger his wet hair. Her nails trailed across his scalp, leaving a pleasant tingle in their wake. Turning her slowly, he bent forward, his lips seeking hers. He could feel her breathing quicken as the moment lengthened and, slowly but surely, he moved backwards, guiding her with him to the bed.

Feeling the edge of the mattress against his calf, he pulled her down, his lips still on hers. Her body rested on his, a familiar, feather-light pressure that never failed to arouse him. He knew that seemingly delicate frame hid an invisible strength far more powerful than it appeared. The dichotomy sometimes still amazed him - fragile steel.  Always an intriguing mixture in a field agent, he found it even more potent in a lover.

Raising his head, he took her lips again, increasing the pressure demandingly. His fingers moved over the bare skin of her neck and shoulders in ever-widening circles, edging slowly beneath her terrycloth covering.  Raising his knee, he placed his foot on the mattress, pushing towards the head of the bed as he rolled them both over. Burying his face in her neck, he nuzzled her tenderly.

"Amanda," he whispered hoarsely, giving her a gentle shake. "Look at me."

Sighing, she slowly opened her eyes, her gaze locking with his. Her lips parted in a shy smile as she raised her hand to his face.  

He recognized the emotion etched across the features he loved so well. It had been longer than he cared to think since they'd been able to take pleasure in each other like this, as husband and wife. Leaning his weight on his right forearm, he reached up and captured her hand, bringing it to his lips. "I love you Amanda," he whispered, planting a tiny kiss on her palm.

"I know," she said, slipping her hand from his.  "I love you, too," she told him in a throaty whisper as she began to move her hand across his chest in maddeningly sensual strokes.  Letting out a deep sigh, he bent to kiss her.

The first ringing noise registered somewhere in the back of his consciousness, but he conveniently shoved it aside, concentrating instead on smooth curves and soft, pliant flesh.  The shrill sound continued, however, annoyingly persistent, and he heard her sigh as her fingers gently tugged his hair. He breathed deeply, resting his forehead in her shoulder for a few seconds, then, lifting his head, he plaintively caught her eye. She shrugged slightly, and he rolled his eyes, moving away from her to answer the phone.

"Stetson," he stated tersely, somewhere between a hiss and a greeting. There was a confusion of jumbled noises, and he was just about to hang up in exasperation when the tiny voice sounded in his ear.

"Daddy?"

Lee drew a deep breath, exhaling loudly. "Hey, Pal," he replied, his expression softening as he turned to meet his wife's indulgent smile.  "How's my big boy?"

"I played ball!" little Matthew exclaimed, his words ringing with excitement. "I hit a home run."

"Hey, that's pretty good, son," he praised, leaning over so Amanda could hear, too.  "Did you do that all by yourself?"

"Jamie helped."

Lee grinned. "You're gonna have to show me that."

"Okay," he agreed happily. Lee heard the sound of a stool moving and muffled voices.

"No, no, Pal, I mean you can show me when we get home," he added hastily, laughing at his son's literal mind. "Matthew . . . Matty, are you still there?"

More scraping noises, and the small voiced piped up, "When're you comin' home?"

"We'll be home tomorrow, okay?" Lee told him, while Amanda mouthed 'Let me talk to him' as she quickly refastened her towel.

"Mommy wants to say hi," he told the small boy. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Hi, Sweetheart," Amanda crooned, all but grabbing the phone from his hand. "Are you being a good boy for Grandma?"

He watched his wife's face break into a smile as she listened to the little boy's endearing prattle. "All right, then . . . put Grandma on the phone, okay? Hi," Amanda continued, her voice suddenly serious.  "How's it going? Is Jenny giving you any trouble?"

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he crossed to the other bed, delving into his suitcase for his boxers.  Pulling them on, he flopped back on the empty mattress. Glancing at Amanda out of the corner of his eye, he could see that her features had settled into a contemplative frown as she listened to Dotty's briefing. His wife was definitely in full 'mother' mode once again.

Not that he blamed her. Until Matthew was born, he'd never fully understood how completely a child could take possession of your heart. Not that he didn't love his stepsons, but they'd been older when he'd come into their lives, past that achingly vulnerable baby stage.  Having children really was akin to giving hostages to fate.  And there was definitely something about little girls . . .

The phone clicked back into place and, a minute later, he felt the mattress sink lightly beside him.  "I'm sorry," his wife murmured softly. "Matty was napping when I talked to Mother earlier, and I told her she could probably catch us before dinner."

"She sure did," he said with a short laugh.  Turning slightly, he met his wife's apologetic gaze, and he reached up to cup her cheek, brushing his thumb gently across her lips. "So," he said in a low voice, "how's Jenny?"

"Slept through the night," she answered in amazement, her fingers smoothing his hair with short, rhythmic strokes.  "I guess Mother hasn't lost her touch."

"Neither have you," he smiled, planting a chaste kiss on her lips as he rose.

"Lee . . ."

"Shh-shh," he whispered, "it's okay." Glancing quickly at the clock, he added regretfully, "We'd better get going if we're going to make that dinner. We don't want to disappoint Phillip."

She opened her mouth as if to say something, then changed her mind, silently nodding her assent. Lee watched her push gracefully off the bed and walk to the closet, her brow knit in a pensive frown. Turning away, he grabbed his own clothes, pulling on his shirt and pants in record time. "So, she slept through the night, huh?" he called over his shoulder. "I guess we shouldn't have worried. When it comes to handling babies, your mother really is a pro."

"I guess so," she mumbled softly, her hand absently fingering the plastic dry-cleaning bag that covered her dress.

Sitting on the bed, he pulled on his socks, surprised to find Amanda still standing by the closet door. "Hey," he called to her as he slipped on his shoes. "If you don't get going, we really are going to be late."

She nodded vaguely, moving almost in slow motion. "Lee," she said, drawing out his name with deliberate care. "Did you say anything to Professor Walters last night? About Jenny, I mean," she added quickly as she noted his expression.

"Amanda," he replied, bending down to tie his shoes, "I've said a sum total of two words to the man, neither one of them about Jenny." Looking up he caught her eye. "Why?"

"Well, I didn't say anything about her, either." She drew in a deep breath, scrunching her forehead thoughtfully as she let it out.  "And he said practically the same thing to me earlier today. About my mother being able to handle babies." Shaking her head, she folded her hands across her chest as she paced the short distance between the bed and the door.

He rose, quickly moving over to her. "I'm sure there's a perfectly rational explanation," he stated emphatically. "He's Phillip's advisor, right?"

She nodded almost imperceptibly. 

"There, you see? I'm sure he's mentioned her. Come on," he whispered, closing his arms around her. "You just talked to your mother; everything's fine at home. There's absolutely nothing to worry about." Placing his hand under her chin, he gently tilted her head up towards his. "Okay?"

"Okay," she echoed, giving him a weak smile.

"Good." Bending over, he kissed her gently. "Then do me one more favor," he added, grinning slightly. "Go change your clothes in the bathroom. There's only so much frustration a man can take in one afternoon."

Rolling her eyes, she draped the dry-cleaning bag over her arm, gathering up her underwear and slip as she headed for the small bathroom. Turning to close the door, she caught his eye. "You want me to lock it, too?"

He gave her a playful wink. "Oh yeah, definitely."

With a gentle laugh, she gave the door a light slam, and Lee heard the distinctive click of the lock. Moving purposefully to the phone, he dialed quickly, pacing in a small circle as he waited for the call to go through.

"Night stream," a neutral voice intoned on the other end of the line.

"Morning glory," he countered, his foot tapping impatiently on the carpet.

"You have priority one, Scarecrow," the voice replied. "Is your phone line secure?"

"Negative."

"Hold please." 

One eye on the closed bathroom door, he shifted his weight from foot to foot as he listened for the series of clicks that would secure the connection.  "Go ahead," the voice said at last, and, exhaling in relief, he turned his attention to the phone.

"I need a special background security check run ASAP," he ordered, his hand running unconsciously through his hair. "Walters, James. Professor. Harrisonburg, Virginia."

"How far back do you want it to go?"

"To the stone age," he barked.

"Check, Scarecrow. Additional orders?"

"Yes," he muttered through gritted teeth. "Activate 'Operation Watchover'. My house."

TBC…