Saturday finally did arrive, much to Jordan's chagrin. She kept thinking that if she avoided it in her mind, maybe it would pass her by. But everyone in the office was buzzing about the party and Woody's promotion. It would have been easier to avoid the five o'clock traffic jam on the pike than today. She had even offered to work that night for everyone else who wanted to go to the party – a request that Garrett found extremely odd.
"You don't want to be there to wish your boy-wonder good-bye and good luck?" he had asked.
"I'm sure we will have our own party later, Garrett," she had replied, gamely trying to cover the gap in hers and Woody's relationship.
"No way. Hoyt would never forgive me. I've got the schedule arranged. I'll see you there," Garrett had declared.
So she dressed, carefully taking much consideration into her appearance. She had showered, used a new perfume, and took more time and care with her make-up. She had opted for a pair of snug-fitting jeans, a burgundy camisole, and a large, white, gauzy blouse to wear over it, tying it at her waist and leaving it unbuttoned. She pinned her hair up, leaving stray wisps falling down the back of her neck and around her ears. Sliding on a pair of sandals, she felt she was ready to face what could be another difficult night in her life. She purposely left five minutes before the party was supposed to start so she would not be the first one at Woody's apartment.
When she arrived, the party was just getting started. Nigel, Bug, and Lily were already there. Garrett arrived at the same time she did. Eddie Winslow and the others from his department were there. Jordan glanced at Woody. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a blue shirt, making his eyes look even bluer. She sighed and chewed the inside of her bottom lip. This was going to be harder than she thought. Woody caught her glance and walked over to the knot of friends from the morgue. "Hey," he greeted them. "Beer's in the 'fridge, pizza's on the counter," he said.
"Thanks," Nigel said, catching the frostiness between Jordan and Woody. Nigel gently took Jordan's arm and led her over to the food. "Eat something and act normal," he advised. "I take it you haven't had a chance to chat with our dear Woodrow," he said.
"Not a word from him all week."
"Well, that does put a different spin on the situation. I assumed that he would be on your doorstep looking for an excuse to turn down this promotion or to at least get you to admit you will miss him."
"No," Jordan replied, somewhat sadly. "Nada, nothing, zip. You know what happens when you assume, Nigel."
"You need to tell him before the night's over, love. You don't know when you'll get the chance again."
"I don't think it's what he needs or wants to hear right now, Nige," Jordan said, looking over at Woody, who was laughing with some of the other detectives.
Somehow, she made it thorough the night, talking, joking, and chatting with the other police officers, folks from the morgue, and other co-workers. Finally, around midnight everyone began to make a move to leave.
"A final toast," called Eddie Winslow. "To Woody, good luck and good hunting."
"Good luck and good hunting," everyone had echoed. Beers finished, coats gotten, the party-goers began to file out, hugging Woody and still wishing him well. Jordan had picked up her coat and was getting ready to leave when Woody pulled her aside.
"Could you stay for a few minutes?" he asked.
She hesitated only for half a heartbeat. Now was the time and she knew it.
"Sure. Be glad to."
While Woody was still saying his farewells and getting everyone out, Jordan began to automatically clean up, picking up the bottles and putting them in the recyclables, tossing stray paper plates in the trash, and finally attacking the dishes in the sink. With the music from the CD player still going and her mind still spinning with what she wanted to tell Woody, she didn't hear him come up behind her. As a matter of fact, she didn't know he was there until she felt his arms wrap around her waist and pull her back to him. Before she could catch her breath, she felt his lips trail down the side of her neck. Her knees begin to give.
"Woody..." she began to protest. God, her voice sounded weak, even to her.
He chuckled softly in her ear, making the wisps of hair tickle the side of her head. "Ummm....what Jordan? You smell wonderful." He pulled her closer. "Tell me you're going to miss me coming into your office and irritating you to no end."
"Now is the time," Jordan thought. "If I don't do it now, it's not going to happen." She reached out for the dish towel and dried her hands, then turned in his arms to face him, knowing she was trapped between him and the kitchen counter. She looked into Woody's face. For the life of her she couldn't remember what she fell in love with first. His dimples? His smile? No, it was those eyes. Those incredible eyes. Then it was his laugh and his charm. And his "never say die" attitude. His compassion. And finally it was his tenderness – to victim's families, his co-workers, and her. The times he had simply held her when he knew she needed it and she hadn't said a word. The times he pulled her butt out of trouble and took the heat from his boss and Rene Walcott without complaining. Dear God, what was she going to do without him?
"Woody," she began, placing her hands on his arms that were still wrapped around her waist.
"What Jordan?" Woody sighed and began to pull away, knowing that Jordan was going to give him a practical excuse or some other smart answer to his questions. He was surprised when she stopped him.
"Woody," Jordan began again, finding it difficult to continue. She kept getting lost in his eyes. "Oh hell," she finally said, and reached up and pulled his head down to hers, proceeding to kiss him hard. And long. Woody was struggling for breath when she allowed him to pull back.
"Yes, I am going to miss you coming into my office. And yes, I'm going to miss you irritating me to death. I am going to miss seeing you everyday. I'm going to miss working with you, I'm going to miss everything," she tried to continue, but her voice broke.
"Hey, it's okay," Woody said, surprised at the sudden turn of her emotions and her sudden vulnerability. He held her close, with his chin resting lightly on top of her head. "We'll still see each other."
"I know, but not like before," Jordan said, her voice still quivery. Woody could feel her tears on his shirt. He pulled her tighter against him.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted to. I tried. But you've kind of cut me off the last several weeks. Every time we talked or tried to, you always acted like you were upset with me."
This time, Woody sighed deeply. He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry. I just wanted you to make a decision about our relationship. Where was your heart taking you? Was it to me or were you still undecided? I guess I was tired of waiting."
Jordan ran her hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, too. I was just so tired of the teasing and fighting. I thought you had given up on me."
"No, no chance. I could give up on breathing easier than giving up on you," Woody admitted.
Jordan looked into his eyes. What she saw there made her catch her breath. He was telling the truth. Without hesitation, she drew his head back down to hers and kissed him again, this time deeper than before. He backed her into the counter so she couldn't duck and run, even if the thought was remotely flickering through her mind. She snuggled closer to him and ran her hands down his shirt to the waistband of his pants, then back up to his neck. "Sweet Jesus," she murmured against his lips.
Woody was letting his hands travel as well. Softly, he traced his hands down her sides and back up again. Tentatively, he reached for the shirt tied around her waist and untied the ends. He expected Jordan to protest and pull away. Instead, she leaned in more closely to his kiss, moaning as she felt his tongue rub against hers. He pulled the shirt off of her and let it fall to the floor. He traced his hands back down her sides around to her bottom and lifted her up on the counter, making her face level with his. Breaking free from her lips, Woody gazed into her eyes. "Jordan?" he asked, the question hanging in the air, shimmering there with all the potential in the universe. Her response surprised him.
"Are you sure, Woody?"
Not exactly what he expected. He had anticipated that he would ask that question of her.
"Yes," he whispered, pulling her from the counter. She wrapped her legs around him and he carried her to his bedroom, laying her softly on the bed.
"We are going to take this very, very slowly. And thank God tomorrow's Sunday," he whispered.
"Sunday," Jordan repeated, chuckling softly.
Woody slowly pulled down the straps of her camisole and kissed his way across her collarbone and back up her neck to her lips. Jordan busied herself with the buttons on his shirt and pulled it open. She ran her hands over his chest to his belt. Slowly, she unbuckled it, keeping eye contact with him the whole time. Woody bent to kiss her deeply one more time and then pulled her camisole off. His breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful. Kissing her again, making sure she was in full contact with his chest, he fumbled for the pins that were holding up her hair, running his fingers through the length of it as it pulled loose. Groaning, he rolled over on his back, pulling her with him. Jordan then unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down, off his legs, to the floor. Woody pushed himself back against the pillows and tried to catch his breath. It was a loosing battle. "She's killing me," he thought. "Slowly is going out the window with every passing second."
He rolled back over, trapping her beneath him, and kissing her again. "Slow down. We've got all night."
"Hmmmm...all night. That sounds...."
"That sounds what, Dr. Cavanaugh?"
"Like just what the doctor ordered," she said wrapping her arms around his neck and letting him take control of the situation.
Woody chuckled and trailed his hands down her sides, tugging at her jeans. "God forbid I interfere with your diagnosis."
"You don't want to be there to wish your boy-wonder good-bye and good luck?" he had asked.
"I'm sure we will have our own party later, Garrett," she had replied, gamely trying to cover the gap in hers and Woody's relationship.
"No way. Hoyt would never forgive me. I've got the schedule arranged. I'll see you there," Garrett had declared.
So she dressed, carefully taking much consideration into her appearance. She had showered, used a new perfume, and took more time and care with her make-up. She had opted for a pair of snug-fitting jeans, a burgundy camisole, and a large, white, gauzy blouse to wear over it, tying it at her waist and leaving it unbuttoned. She pinned her hair up, leaving stray wisps falling down the back of her neck and around her ears. Sliding on a pair of sandals, she felt she was ready to face what could be another difficult night in her life. She purposely left five minutes before the party was supposed to start so she would not be the first one at Woody's apartment.
When she arrived, the party was just getting started. Nigel, Bug, and Lily were already there. Garrett arrived at the same time she did. Eddie Winslow and the others from his department were there. Jordan glanced at Woody. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a blue shirt, making his eyes look even bluer. She sighed and chewed the inside of her bottom lip. This was going to be harder than she thought. Woody caught her glance and walked over to the knot of friends from the morgue. "Hey," he greeted them. "Beer's in the 'fridge, pizza's on the counter," he said.
"Thanks," Nigel said, catching the frostiness between Jordan and Woody. Nigel gently took Jordan's arm and led her over to the food. "Eat something and act normal," he advised. "I take it you haven't had a chance to chat with our dear Woodrow," he said.
"Not a word from him all week."
"Well, that does put a different spin on the situation. I assumed that he would be on your doorstep looking for an excuse to turn down this promotion or to at least get you to admit you will miss him."
"No," Jordan replied, somewhat sadly. "Nada, nothing, zip. You know what happens when you assume, Nigel."
"You need to tell him before the night's over, love. You don't know when you'll get the chance again."
"I don't think it's what he needs or wants to hear right now, Nige," Jordan said, looking over at Woody, who was laughing with some of the other detectives.
Somehow, she made it thorough the night, talking, joking, and chatting with the other police officers, folks from the morgue, and other co-workers. Finally, around midnight everyone began to make a move to leave.
"A final toast," called Eddie Winslow. "To Woody, good luck and good hunting."
"Good luck and good hunting," everyone had echoed. Beers finished, coats gotten, the party-goers began to file out, hugging Woody and still wishing him well. Jordan had picked up her coat and was getting ready to leave when Woody pulled her aside.
"Could you stay for a few minutes?" he asked.
She hesitated only for half a heartbeat. Now was the time and she knew it.
"Sure. Be glad to."
While Woody was still saying his farewells and getting everyone out, Jordan began to automatically clean up, picking up the bottles and putting them in the recyclables, tossing stray paper plates in the trash, and finally attacking the dishes in the sink. With the music from the CD player still going and her mind still spinning with what she wanted to tell Woody, she didn't hear him come up behind her. As a matter of fact, she didn't know he was there until she felt his arms wrap around her waist and pull her back to him. Before she could catch her breath, she felt his lips trail down the side of her neck. Her knees begin to give.
"Woody..." she began to protest. God, her voice sounded weak, even to her.
He chuckled softly in her ear, making the wisps of hair tickle the side of her head. "Ummm....what Jordan? You smell wonderful." He pulled her closer. "Tell me you're going to miss me coming into your office and irritating you to no end."
"Now is the time," Jordan thought. "If I don't do it now, it's not going to happen." She reached out for the dish towel and dried her hands, then turned in his arms to face him, knowing she was trapped between him and the kitchen counter. She looked into Woody's face. For the life of her she couldn't remember what she fell in love with first. His dimples? His smile? No, it was those eyes. Those incredible eyes. Then it was his laugh and his charm. And his "never say die" attitude. His compassion. And finally it was his tenderness – to victim's families, his co-workers, and her. The times he had simply held her when he knew she needed it and she hadn't said a word. The times he pulled her butt out of trouble and took the heat from his boss and Rene Walcott without complaining. Dear God, what was she going to do without him?
"Woody," she began, placing her hands on his arms that were still wrapped around her waist.
"What Jordan?" Woody sighed and began to pull away, knowing that Jordan was going to give him a practical excuse or some other smart answer to his questions. He was surprised when she stopped him.
"Woody," Jordan began again, finding it difficult to continue. She kept getting lost in his eyes. "Oh hell," she finally said, and reached up and pulled his head down to hers, proceeding to kiss him hard. And long. Woody was struggling for breath when she allowed him to pull back.
"Yes, I am going to miss you coming into my office. And yes, I'm going to miss you irritating me to death. I am going to miss seeing you everyday. I'm going to miss working with you, I'm going to miss everything," she tried to continue, but her voice broke.
"Hey, it's okay," Woody said, surprised at the sudden turn of her emotions and her sudden vulnerability. He held her close, with his chin resting lightly on top of her head. "We'll still see each other."
"I know, but not like before," Jordan said, her voice still quivery. Woody could feel her tears on his shirt. He pulled her tighter against him.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted to. I tried. But you've kind of cut me off the last several weeks. Every time we talked or tried to, you always acted like you were upset with me."
This time, Woody sighed deeply. He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry. I just wanted you to make a decision about our relationship. Where was your heart taking you? Was it to me or were you still undecided? I guess I was tired of waiting."
Jordan ran her hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, too. I was just so tired of the teasing and fighting. I thought you had given up on me."
"No, no chance. I could give up on breathing easier than giving up on you," Woody admitted.
Jordan looked into his eyes. What she saw there made her catch her breath. He was telling the truth. Without hesitation, she drew his head back down to hers and kissed him again, this time deeper than before. He backed her into the counter so she couldn't duck and run, even if the thought was remotely flickering through her mind. She snuggled closer to him and ran her hands down his shirt to the waistband of his pants, then back up to his neck. "Sweet Jesus," she murmured against his lips.
Woody was letting his hands travel as well. Softly, he traced his hands down her sides and back up again. Tentatively, he reached for the shirt tied around her waist and untied the ends. He expected Jordan to protest and pull away. Instead, she leaned in more closely to his kiss, moaning as she felt his tongue rub against hers. He pulled the shirt off of her and let it fall to the floor. He traced his hands back down her sides around to her bottom and lifted her up on the counter, making her face level with his. Breaking free from her lips, Woody gazed into her eyes. "Jordan?" he asked, the question hanging in the air, shimmering there with all the potential in the universe. Her response surprised him.
"Are you sure, Woody?"
Not exactly what he expected. He had anticipated that he would ask that question of her.
"Yes," he whispered, pulling her from the counter. She wrapped her legs around him and he carried her to his bedroom, laying her softly on the bed.
"We are going to take this very, very slowly. And thank God tomorrow's Sunday," he whispered.
"Sunday," Jordan repeated, chuckling softly.
Woody slowly pulled down the straps of her camisole and kissed his way across her collarbone and back up her neck to her lips. Jordan busied herself with the buttons on his shirt and pulled it open. She ran her hands over his chest to his belt. Slowly, she unbuckled it, keeping eye contact with him the whole time. Woody bent to kiss her deeply one more time and then pulled her camisole off. His breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful. Kissing her again, making sure she was in full contact with his chest, he fumbled for the pins that were holding up her hair, running his fingers through the length of it as it pulled loose. Groaning, he rolled over on his back, pulling her with him. Jordan then unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down, off his legs, to the floor. Woody pushed himself back against the pillows and tried to catch his breath. It was a loosing battle. "She's killing me," he thought. "Slowly is going out the window with every passing second."
He rolled back over, trapping her beneath him, and kissing her again. "Slow down. We've got all night."
"Hmmmm...all night. That sounds...."
"That sounds what, Dr. Cavanaugh?"
"Like just what the doctor ordered," she said wrapping her arms around his neck and letting him take control of the situation.
Woody chuckled and trailed his hands down her sides, tugging at her jeans. "God forbid I interfere with your diagnosis."