4. Paul nuzzled Natalie's neck and hummed along with the clarinet player into her ear a few moments, before Natalie was released from his clutches as he pulled an object from his pocket. She savored her personal space a moment before he leaned in again whispered to her, "I really gotta answer this page; I'll be outside for a few minutes." She smiled and mouthed an OK as he stroked her hair and gave her a peck on her cheek.
She exhaled a long controlled breath, composing herself now that she was alone. But not really, she thought to herself. She was sure that, assuming John McBain was still in the house -and she knew he was, what with the dark lights, the liquor, the music and Paul- he'd be riding up on his white horse to save her. Except, her white knight was hardly a man of action; hell, he was hardly even a man of words. His chivalry embraced the brave knight who slew dragons and battled evil demons, rescued the fair princess, and they lived happily ever after. But the fairy tales never elaborated about how the knight needed therapy to deal with his justifiable but violent repressed past, so that both he and his princess can cease defining themselves by their pasts, and engage in healing dialogue that bonds their relationship.
As soon as Paul left, Natalie drank the entire glass of water that had been sitting in front of her, untouched. The lights over the bar had lit her just enough for him to watch unnoticed from his table in the dark. He knew the curves of her face so well, that he hardly even needed lamplight to know she was smiling; the air around her was more radiant when she smiled. John knew she was getting high. He'd seen enough clubbers on X to know the signs.
"Your boy not like jazz?" She could feel the flint in his voice even before she felt his prescence. She had been listening to the music with her eyes closed for a moment, but she knew he would come to her, dragging his cross with him. She opened her eyes to look at him.
"Dunno, got a page, had to return the call; no biggie, he'll be back..." she smiled.
"I tend to doubt that," he replied, confidence in his eyes.
She looked right into his eyes. God, so deep, so beautiful, so entrancing. "Hmm, you heard the call?"
"No," he replied, as a smirk gently tugged the sides of his mouth upward, she always thought it looked like he was fighting invisible strings forcing him to smile, "I sent the page."
"Ah," she breathed, completely unsurprised. "So now that you have this alone time with me that you've masterfully engineered, the question that inevitably arises is What are you going to do with it?" To force her point, she turned on the barstool to face him, fixing her eyes on his.
John reached over, looking around quickly first to make sure no one was watching them, and felt Natalie's forehead—too warm. She sighed very slightly at the contact. When that minimal touch garnered an "Mmmm..." from Natalie, he mined himself for self-control, "I have trouble keeping my hands in appropriate places when this girl's sober. And now I gotta babysit her the next eight hours. "
He could just kill that Paul Cramer, dosing a beautiful woman to think he's the bomb for the rest of the evening, and having absolutely no compunction about keeping his hands off because it's only the drug making her feel like that.
"Let me get you home. And I'm going to stay until the X is out of your system—I don't want to find out tomorrow morning that Cramer caught up with you," John said, gently grasping Natalie's arm to get her to move. He threw a twenty down on the bar to cover the tab.
Natalie slinked slowly away from the bar, crushing between John and the barstool instead of exiting the other way where there was space - trying to maximize her body contact with him. She'd just choreographed a perfect opportunity to see if he'd act on her vulnerability, and she wasn't about to waste it. She deliberately stumbled into him, and John automatically caught her up in what was dangerously close to being an embrace— he felt like a blanket around her... wrapping her with his warmth, his voice, his touch.
John noticed Natalie was humming something as they left Capricorn and he held open her coat.
"Never would have guessed you as a CSN fan, Natalie."
"Huh?" she replied, playing at getting into her coat while swaying lightly to some inner serenade.
"That tune, it's Crosby, Stills & Nash."
"Oh, yeah, that. Just some song I heard on the radio in the back room at Rodi's. Some of the words stuck in my head, y'know," she continued to hum.
"Yeah, I kinda like the line that goes ' the eagle flies with the dove,' " he was looking into her eyes as he helped her finish getting her coat buttoned.
She stared back, smiling a cheshire grin, "Yeah, and 'if you can't be with the one you love, honey, love the one you're with,' is the one I seem to remember," she replied as she pulled away singing the refrain, "Doo-doo doo doo doo doo doo-doo..."
Outwardly blithe and unaffected by John's "rescue" of the damsel in distess, Natalie was inwardly delighted at John's promise to stay with her till she was no longer in any danger, or worse, in danger of running off with Paul. "Means I get to play with your resistance all night, or until you say uncle one way or another..."
She exhaled a long controlled breath, composing herself now that she was alone. But not really, she thought to herself. She was sure that, assuming John McBain was still in the house -and she knew he was, what with the dark lights, the liquor, the music and Paul- he'd be riding up on his white horse to save her. Except, her white knight was hardly a man of action; hell, he was hardly even a man of words. His chivalry embraced the brave knight who slew dragons and battled evil demons, rescued the fair princess, and they lived happily ever after. But the fairy tales never elaborated about how the knight needed therapy to deal with his justifiable but violent repressed past, so that both he and his princess can cease defining themselves by their pasts, and engage in healing dialogue that bonds their relationship.
As soon as Paul left, Natalie drank the entire glass of water that had been sitting in front of her, untouched. The lights over the bar had lit her just enough for him to watch unnoticed from his table in the dark. He knew the curves of her face so well, that he hardly even needed lamplight to know she was smiling; the air around her was more radiant when she smiled. John knew she was getting high. He'd seen enough clubbers on X to know the signs.
"Your boy not like jazz?" She could feel the flint in his voice even before she felt his prescence. She had been listening to the music with her eyes closed for a moment, but she knew he would come to her, dragging his cross with him. She opened her eyes to look at him.
"Dunno, got a page, had to return the call; no biggie, he'll be back..." she smiled.
"I tend to doubt that," he replied, confidence in his eyes.
She looked right into his eyes. God, so deep, so beautiful, so entrancing. "Hmm, you heard the call?"
"No," he replied, as a smirk gently tugged the sides of his mouth upward, she always thought it looked like he was fighting invisible strings forcing him to smile, "I sent the page."
"Ah," she breathed, completely unsurprised. "So now that you have this alone time with me that you've masterfully engineered, the question that inevitably arises is What are you going to do with it?" To force her point, she turned on the barstool to face him, fixing her eyes on his.
John reached over, looking around quickly first to make sure no one was watching them, and felt Natalie's forehead—too warm. She sighed very slightly at the contact. When that minimal touch garnered an "Mmmm..." from Natalie, he mined himself for self-control, "I have trouble keeping my hands in appropriate places when this girl's sober. And now I gotta babysit her the next eight hours. "
He could just kill that Paul Cramer, dosing a beautiful woman to think he's the bomb for the rest of the evening, and having absolutely no compunction about keeping his hands off because it's only the drug making her feel like that.
"Let me get you home. And I'm going to stay until the X is out of your system—I don't want to find out tomorrow morning that Cramer caught up with you," John said, gently grasping Natalie's arm to get her to move. He threw a twenty down on the bar to cover the tab.
Natalie slinked slowly away from the bar, crushing between John and the barstool instead of exiting the other way where there was space - trying to maximize her body contact with him. She'd just choreographed a perfect opportunity to see if he'd act on her vulnerability, and she wasn't about to waste it. She deliberately stumbled into him, and John automatically caught her up in what was dangerously close to being an embrace— he felt like a blanket around her... wrapping her with his warmth, his voice, his touch.
John noticed Natalie was humming something as they left Capricorn and he held open her coat.
"Never would have guessed you as a CSN fan, Natalie."
"Huh?" she replied, playing at getting into her coat while swaying lightly to some inner serenade.
"That tune, it's Crosby, Stills & Nash."
"Oh, yeah, that. Just some song I heard on the radio in the back room at Rodi's. Some of the words stuck in my head, y'know," she continued to hum.
"Yeah, I kinda like the line that goes ' the eagle flies with the dove,' " he was looking into her eyes as he helped her finish getting her coat buttoned.
She stared back, smiling a cheshire grin, "Yeah, and 'if you can't be with the one you love, honey, love the one you're with,' is the one I seem to remember," she replied as she pulled away singing the refrain, "Doo-doo doo doo doo doo doo-doo..."
Outwardly blithe and unaffected by John's "rescue" of the damsel in distess, Natalie was inwardly delighted at John's promise to stay with her till she was no longer in any danger, or worse, in danger of running off with Paul. "Means I get to play with your resistance all night, or until you say uncle one way or another..."