Chapter Eleven

The End of the Fall

It happened so subtly at first, Jordan almost didn't realize it was happening at all. His hand resting on the small of her back at homicide scenes…brushing her hair off her shoulders…taking things out of her left arm because he knew it hurt her.

Then it hit her one day. Woody was doing more than taking things slowly…he was courting her. At one time in her life, she would have considered this a corny, old-fashioned idea, totally unappealing to her.

Now it was the sweetest thing she had ever heard of.

After their first date, he sent her pink roses. After the second date, he had given her a chaste good night kiss at the door. They were taking baby steps back to each other…and Woody seemed in no hurry to rush anything…he wanted to make sure they were both comfortable with each other before moving on.

Until the day the bottom dropped out of the Boston sky. It rained. No, it poured. Hell, it was like monsoon season in Massachusetts. They had finished dinner and the nearest place to go to get out of the rain was Max's old house. "We can stay there until the rain lets up a little," Jordan told Woody. At that point in time, the water was standing in the roads and cars were in danger of hydroplaning.

They let themselves in and Jordan ran down the hall and returned with some towels…to dry off with. But instead of reaching for the towel, Woody reached for her … kissing her more impatiently this time than he ever had before…deepening the kiss as she parted her lips and wound her arms around his neck.

He deepened the kiss again and she moaned in response, shivers running up her spine. "You're cold," he said, reaching for the towel she had dropped when they began to kiss. She shook her head no. "It's not the cold…it's you."

He read the look in her eyes…and pulled her back in his arms, kissing her with a rising passion as he fumbled with the buttons on her shirt, all the time backing her towards the stairs. Her shirt came off there. His came off at the top of the landing. By the time Woody had gotten her into her old bedroom, he had pushed her skirt to the floor, and tumbled her onto the bed, her small frame resting on top of his. Woody stopped then, gently running his hands through her hair to frame her small face. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked her in a breathless whisper. "Because, after this, you know there's no turning back…there's no way I'm going to let you go…"

Jordan nodded, turning her head to press a kiss to one of the palms of his hand. "I know…and I'm not going anywhere."

Woody held her gaze for a moment, then pulled her in for another kiss before he reached for the hooks of her bra and undid them, sliding the scrap of lace off her. Rolling her beneath him, he kissed her lips once more before trailing down the side of her neck to the hollow between her breasts, to her naval. Finally he hooked his fingers in the elastic of her lacy underwear and slid them down, tossing them on the floor with the rest of their clothes.

She clung to him, meeting him kiss for kiss and touch for touch until she pushed his boxers down…then the frantic pace that he had set slowed as he made love to her for the first time.

When it was over, he gently smoothed the hair back out of her eyes, and looked deep into her whiskey-colored eyes. Tentatively, she smiled up at him…and he smiled back, his dimples clearly showing. "You're mine," he whispered. It wasn't a question.

"Definitely…"

He chuckled and snuggled her closer. "I guess we need to see if our wet clothes are reasonably dry enough to put back on and go home…."

"Not really. We can stay here tonight, if you want."

"You don't have to work tomorrow?"

"No… do you?"

"Yeah, but I don't have to go in until after lunch…."

"Good." Jordan reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. "We have a lot of time to make up for, Detective."

She was right. Woody had to admit she was right…the years before he was shot…then the year or so they spent wondering if he would be normal again…her accident…finding their way back to each other…stumbling along the way. But at least that part was over. They had reached the end of that journey.

The best part lay ahead for them.