Sara sat Indian-style on the huge king-sized bed and reached for the card atop the pile of gifts. Opening it up carefully, she read the fine script.
Dearest Sara,
You should find everything you need for our evening tonight within these boxes.
I hope you enjoy opening these gifts. Please be ready at 7 pm.
Someone will come for you.
In the meantime, try to get some rest.
All my love.
Sara felt a sense of relief wash over her as she finished reading the card. For better or worse, this would all be over tonight. Certainly, she had enjoyed the attention that had been lavished on her, but she was ready to find out who was behind this. 'Please be Grissom, please be Grissom,' she thought to herself before she could slap the thought away. She knew it wasn't him. Try as she might, however, she couldn't make herself stop hoping. "Stop it, Sara!" she hissed aloud. "You'll only be heartbroken if you get your hopes up." She rolled her eyes at herself. Nice. Now she had taken to talking to herself. Classic.
She set the card aside and reached for the first gift. She resisted the urge to shake the box like a kid at Christmas. She looked admiringly at the gift wrap. She was dying to rip into it, but it seemed a shame to ruin the wrapping. It was beautifully done. The box was wrapped in a shiny, deep blue paper and tied with a wide silver ribbon. Finally, her inner child won out, and she slipped the ribbon off the box. Sliding her fingers under the paper, she freed the box from its constraints. Looking at the box in her hands, she breathed in sharply. The elegant box said "Prada" in sophisticated type. With trembling fingers, she lifted the lid off and peeled back the tissue paper inside. She stared down uncomprehendingly at the exquisite piece of clothing before her. After a moment, she lifted the dress out of its box. Sitting up on her knees, she let the dress fall to its full length as she admired it. It was an elegant affair, long and black. The off-the-shoulder, halter-esque bodice was not terribly revealing, but would accent her curves nicely. There was a very faint striping pattern within the material that was visible only from close range. The pattern was basic black-on-black, and therefore very subtle. Sara thought it was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. She laid it lovingly on the bed and put the Prada box aside. Reaching for the next gift, she surmised that it was most likely shoes. Peeling the gift wrap away, she let out a low whistle as she observed the Jimmy Choo logo on the gift box. She looked on the side at the style name. "Brenda," it read. Gingerly lifting the lid off of the shoebox, she discovered an absolutely stunning pair of heels. They were strappy suede sandals. Skinny suede straps criss-crossed over the toes and ran up the ankle. Sara glanced down at her freshly polished candy-apple-red toenails and knew that this pair of Jimmy Choo heels was going to be perfect on her feet. She placed the shoes back in their box and sat the box down on the floor. Suddenly feeling like a spoiled debutante, she reached for yet another box. This one was smaller. Tearing the gift wrap off, she gasped as she saw the name stamped into the elegant leather box. Bvlgari. Sara was not exactly a fashion maven, but she knew a maker of fine jewelry when she saw it. Opening the box, she nearly let out a sob when she saw the exquisite necklace in front of her. She lifted it out of the box with shaking hands. She noticed a certificate of authenticity beneath it and reached for it. Beneath a brief history of Bvlgari she found details on the necklace. It was a pendant in white gold and pavé diamonds. The pendant itself consisted of several diamond "drops" with round spheres of white gold at the end. Sara had no idea why, but she was on the edge of tears. Her emotions were all in a jumble. It was almost all too much. She went through the possibilities in her head. If it was Grissom, she was absolutely overwhelmed that he would go to these lengths for her. On the other hand, because of that very evidence, she knew it couldn't be Grissom. But if it was someone else, she was faced with the very real (and unpleasant) task of having to reject his affections. Sara squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her forehead tiredly in frustration. 'Please let it be Grissom, please let it be Grissom...' Snapping herself back to reality, she forced the thoughts from her head. Time to finish with the gifts so she could get some sleep. The next two boxes (also leather, with the Bvlgari stamp) proved to contain matching earrings and a bracelet. Raising her eyebrows and shaking her head in disbelief, Sara placed the jewelry to the side. Two boxes left. Choosing the larger of the two, she discovered a sleek black Louis Vuitton evening bag. Very chic. Opening the last box, she found a bottle of Chanel no. 5. She removed the top from the bottle and sniffed at it. Heavenly.
Sara looked around at the mess she had created. There was wrapping paper everywhere. Scooting off of the bed, she began gathering the discarded paper. She placed it in a wastebasket and turned back to the bed to admire her loot. She had definitely made out like a bandit. She began to gather her gifts so she could put them away in the closet. She was just hanging the dress in the closet when she stopped short. Uh-oh. She examined the dress and then pulled the waistband of her jeans slightly away from her body. Hmm. Sleek black dress, white cotton panties? 'Not a great move, Sara,' she thought. Apparently her suitor ('Please let it be Grissom, please let it be Grissom') had not thought of that. Or perhaps he had thought of it and elected to be more discreet than to include underwear in his gifts. Luckily for her the Grand Canal Shoppes were downstairs. There was a Banana Republic there. She grabbed her wallet and headed to the door.
Half an hour later, Sara was back in her suite, small Banana Republic bag in hand. She hadn't been exactly sure what kind of underwear to get. Thongs were just not her style. She usually wore low rise cotton bikini briefs, but that didn't seem quite appropriate for a Prada dress, either. She eventually decided on a pair of black lace-trimmed hipsters. They looked feminine, yet comfortable. Sara knew she needed to get a little sleep before she started getting ready, so she tossed her purchase on the counter in the dressing area and took one last look in the closet before crawling into the bed. She almost moaned as she crawled between the luxurious sheets. 'Damn, these sheets have got to be at least 500 thread count,' she thought as she began to get drowsy. As she lay there, she thought about her suitor. 'Please let it be Grissom, please let it be Grissom...' No way, she told herself. Grissom wouldn't have had a clue about the clothes and accessories. That kind of thing was morelike Cather—
Sara sat bolt upright in bed, heart pounding. It couldn't be. Could it? Catherine was in on it, that much she knew. Grissom and Catherine were close friends. Grissom had no clue about fashion. Catherine did. It all fit—didn't it? Sara was breathing heavily. She suddenly felt lightheaded. 'Oh, god. Please, God, let it be him. Please. I'll never ask for anything again. I love him so much. Please, God, let it be him.' Sara squeezed her eyes shut as a single tear rolled down her cheek. "Stop it, Sara!" she yelled into the empty suite. "You know it won't be him! He doesn't love you and he never will!" Her mind started turning frantically. Okay, it made sense that it would be him because of Catherine, but it also made sense that if it was someone else, they would enlist the help of one of her co-workers. After all, someone had to gain access to her locker, right? And he would guess that Sara might be uncomfortable with the situation, thereby providing a security blanket in the form of a phone call to Catherine. She admitted it was a smart move. Once she had talked to Catherine, she had totally relaxed about the whole thing. Sure, her curiosity was stronger than ever, but she no longer felt that she was in any sort of potential danger. Sara looked down at her shaking hands and began to take deep breaths. She looked over at the clock, then reached for the phone. After she had arranged her wakeup call, she made a concerted effort to put everything out of her mind so she could sleep. After all, who knew what tonight would bring?
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Catherine sat on Grissom's couch with an amused smile as she watched him pace his living room. No doubt about it, if he kept going at this rate, he was going to have to replace his carpet. She decided to start getting him ready a little early. "Gil," she started, causing him to snap his head toward her. "Why don't you go ahead and jump in the shower, ok? Just go in there and get the water really hot and try to relax," she said with the tone of a mother. This time, though, Grissom didn't have a smart comeback. He just nodded and took off down the hallway. Catherine leaned back and blew out a sigh. She had never seen him this nervous. She really hoped he wasn't going to puke on Sara.
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Sara took her time in the shower, enjoying the super-huge space and the feel of the double shower heads. She took extra time shaving her legs—after all, they were going to be bare under that dress, and who knew where things were going to lead? She stepped out of the shower, patted herself dry, and selected a bottle of lotion from the basket of bath products. Smoothing it on, she glanced in the mirror. What on earth was she going to do with her hair?
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Catherine was glad that Grissom had asked her to help him get ready for his evening with Sara. He was a nervous wreck, and she ended up having to tie his tie. As she put the finishing touches—the cuff links—on him, she stepped back and gave him a once-over. "You look great, Gil," she said. "How do you feel?"
He swallowed hard. "Like I'm about to go out with the woman I've loved for years and don't deserve."
Catherine rolled her eyes. "God, Gil, don't be such a drama queen. I know you're nervous, but the thing is, you DO deserve her. And she deserves you. And you love each other. It's a shame that you've both been too clueless to realize it, but that's what you're trying to change, right?" Seeing his nod, she continued, "And now...you're going to have the night of your dreams with the woman of your dreams. Think positively, ok?"
He nodded and looked at his watch. "The limo should be here anytime."
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Sara looked in the mirror, having just finished with her hair and makeup. She had opted to leave her hair fairly simple, in keeping with the simple lines of the dress. She had blown it dry, managing to leave just the tiniest amount of wave in it. It gave the overall impression of having been straightened, but it had a great deal more body than it would have if she had straightened it as she normally did. To balance out her simple hairstyle, though, she had applied just slightly more makeup than she normally would have. Looking at her reflection, she thought her eyes looked rather dramatic. Satisfied, she went to the dressing area. She slipped into her new panties and pulled the dress off of its hanger. Slipping it on, she suddenly worried that it wouldn't fit, but was somehow not surprised when it fit like a glove. Everything else had been too perfect to conceive of the dress not fitting perfectly, as well. She turned sideways and cocked her head to the side as she contemplated what she saw in the mirror. She would have died rather than admit it aloud, but she thought she looked pretty damn good. She added the Jimmy Choos to the equation, and suddenly she looked even better. She sprayed the Chanel no. 5 on her neck and chest, and then looked lovingly at the Bvlgari jewelry. One by one, she put each piece on, then examined the final product in the mirror. She smiled as she wondered what the guys back at the lab would think ('Please let it be Grissom, please let it be Grissom')—they'd never believe that the beauty standing in the Prima suite of the Venetian was their very own CSI Level III Sara Sidle. She grabbed the Louis Vuitton bag and quickly filled it with her lipstick, ID, credit card, cell phone, and some breath mints. Looking at the clock, she walked over to a chair to wait.
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Gil Grissom looked at Catherine as the doorbell rang. She stood and walked over to him. "Good luck," she said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "You're going to be fine. I promise." Grissom looked at her and gave her a spontaneous hug. Catherine handed him the wrapped box of lingerie. "Here," she said. "Just in case." She winked.
"Thank you, Catherine...For everything." With that, he opened the door and followed Fred to the limousine, leaving Catherine standing in his doorway.
A/N: Thanks for being patient. Tomorrow my husband and I have agreed to work around the house and in the yard all day, so I'll try to get the next chapter up by tomorrow (Saturday) night, but I can't guarantee anything. Just be patient—I promise I won't just abandon the story!