Jack McCoy is someone that I never thought I would be attracted to. Yet, I find myself stealing glances at him as he intently reads over a stack of papers. His expressive eyes and his furrowed brow prove how much he is involved in this latest case. It was hard for him to do child abuse cases, being a child of abuse himself, and he wanted to make sure the child's monstrous parents were going to be incarcerated for a long time.
Being so intent on studying one of the most prestigious prosecuting attorneys in Manhattan, I didn't hear him when he said my name continuously.
"Abbie? Abbie? Abbie?" His mantra sounding like a blissful symphony to my ears. I snapped out of my reverie to answer him, hoping the lustful look I felt in my eyes wasn't evident to him. Who am I kidding? He can pick up on any of my longer-than-necessary looks I shoot him all day long.
"Yeah, Jack, what is it?" I asked, hoping he didn't discover an important fact that would put the final nail in the coffin of the Shornes. I would have felt awful if he went off on a relevant tangent and would have to repeat it.
"Do you want to take a break from this and get something to eat? I'm starving, and all the words on the page are starting to blur together," Jack complained, his gravelly voice contradicting his child-like complaints.
"I can use a break. Where were you thinking?" I asked him, hoping he would want to go somewhere that was further away so she can ride on his bike with him, wrapping her thin arms around his waist and pulling him tight to her whenever they took a quick turn. It was the perfect night for a ride, too, not too cold, but not stifling hot, either.
"I don't know. There's that little Turkish restaurant on 42nd Street that is really fantastic. Does that sound good to you? Or were you thinking somewhere closer?" Jack asked me, and for the first time since I met him a couple of years ago, I heard a little hint of nervousness in his tone.
"That sounds great. What's the name of it?" I asked him, my cheeks getting flushed at the mere thought of Jack McCoy and I having an intimate dinner on the other side of town.
"Dervish. Ed told me about it a few days ago when he took his new girlfriend there. He seemed to really enjoy it there." He answered, and it was right then that I convinced myself that I wanted to hear his voice all of the time, not just in the office. Hear it whisper my name in the dark, hear it moan my name after a long night of love making, and just hear it call me for when dinner was ready. Whoa, Abbie, calm down, it's just dinner, I think to myself.
"So, Abbie, do you want to take a cab, or take the bike? It's up to you," Jack said to me, his voice emphasizing his bike. He loved that thing more than anything; he would ride it to court if he could.
"The bike sounds good. I haven't been on one in a long time," I reply, just thinking about being so close to him making me shiver.
"Okay, let's go," Jack said to me, pulling the door closed behind us, two helmets in hand.
This is going to be fun; I think to myself, how can it not be? I'm with Jack McCoy, the man I have been having intense dreams about for the past two weeks. Do I love him? Sometimes I think no, I can't, he's so much older than me. But then, I think, there is no one else that understands me half as well as Jack does. Plus, he isn't bad looking at all…
To Be Continued