The bed and breakfast was picturesque and thankfully nothing that prompted any memories for Sara. Although the atmosphere certainly struck a chord with her Tamales Bay roots – built for solar power, the kindly wife who made the pottery the B&B used, the friendly husband with stories of moonshine stills in the foundation. The entire scenario was something out of one of her more schoolgirlish day dreams – her and Grissom, escaping away to some reclusive place where nobody would care if they were together. If they spent the whole trip in the bedroom.

She trailed her fingers along the book case and noted that it was already three o'clock. It was one of the funny things about traveling, even when she didn't cross time zones she always felt like she was further away in time and distance. Like it should be closer to five o'clock, like she should be out for her run or taking a bath. She yawned. Or like she should be asleep. Just because she could go without sleep for longer periods of time than most people didn't mean that she liked doing it. Of course, her pillow wouldn't smell like Grissom.

She flushed as she remembered waking up on the plane and realizing that she had fallen asleep on Grissom's shoulder. She was surprised that he hadn't said anything, in fact, he had fallen asleep with his glasses on. She had had the perfect view of his mouth where his head had dipped into his chest as he slept. She had wanted so much to reach up and his glasses off, to draw her palm down his cheek to wake him up.

She had almost done it, which was when she noticed that in her sleep she had curled up to him. Curled up to him and laid her hand over his heart. That was a little bit too much of her sub-conscious taking over and so she had unfolded herself from the cramped position in the seat and picked up the in-flight magazine.

But even now, with the scent of sage coming in through the window and the earthy scent of the pond water, she could still smell him. She would swear that his scent had wrapped itself around her olfactory senses and refused to let go. Just as he had snuck his way into her thoughts, her heart and lately, her poor graces. This trip was going a long way to change the latter, but what good it would do her heart was anyone's guess.

Grissom walked out of his room at that moment and she stopped looking at the book on Nevada wildflowers. He had changed into a pair of jeans and wore an old LVPD t-shirt and hiking boots. "Want to investigate the area?" He pulled on a baseball cap and Sara fought the urge to turn it around, he looked so adorable when he did that.

She headed to her room saying, "Sure, just let me change real quick."

She shut the door behind her, impressed by the room's warm earth tones and high ceiling. She opened her suitcase and quickly picked out some shorts and a t-shirt and decided on wearing her bathing suit at the last minute. They had a pool here and after tromping around in the heat, she knew going for a swim would feel great. She quickly changed and slathered on some sunblock before grabbing her own cap and heading back into the common room.

"All set," she grinned. Grissom looked a bit pole-axed from where he was sitting on the sofa, flipping through the same wildflower book. It took her a moment to realize that this was probably the least clothing he'd seen her in since his last trip to San Francisco six years ago. She managed not to cackle but the smirk crept across her face unhindered. She tossed the tube of sunblock at him and said, "Put some on. It's hot out." She sat down to tie her boot laces as he absently did as she asked.

He seemed to snap back to himself as he offered her a pair of small binoculars as they headed for the door. "Here, there's apparently a bird sanctuary nearby and so there's a lot of interesting bird watching."

She pulled a small bird guide out of her back jean pocket and said, "Just what I was thinking. This was in my room, I don't know about you but it's been awhile since I've had to identify birds in the air."

They smiled at each other, appreciating the ease with which their efforts coordinated. The day was gorgeous; the bushes had caterpillar tents and the underbrush rustled with lizards scurrying after chirping crickets. The whole area was vibrant and bursting with life, and Sara was childishly pleased that Grissom had to look up as many birds as she did.

At four-thirty they found themselves by the pool and Sara eagerly started for it. Though their efforts had been mild, she could still feel the thin cotton of her shirt sticking to her back. The wind ruffled surface of the pool seemed to be a seductive invitation directed at her. She set her binoculars and book down onto one of the lounge chairs. She had peeled off her t-shirt when she noticed that there weren't any towels out. Grissom was hovering on the edge of the pool area, looking for all the world like a kid peering through the toy store window.

"Hey Griss, why don't you throw your swim trunks on and bring me a towel? Then we can go to dinner." She had her shoes and socks off by this time and splashed some water in his direction with her foot. He seemed to reach some decision because he sighed and said "Sure" before heading for the house. She wiggled out of the denim shorts and slipped into the pool. The cool liquid encompassed her body and sluiced her free of the clinging sweat. She came up for air and flipped onto her back and languidly floated around the pool.

Which was how Grissom found her as he walked back – one towel around his shoulders, one draped like a shield over his arm and wearing black swim trunks. His sneakers jarred with the outfit and he shrugged as he said, "I forgot to pack flip-flops or sandals. I barely remembered to pack my swim trunks."

She nodded her understanding and got out of the pool to take the towels from him. Grissom's eyes flickered over her body, and she was pleased that he could show some interest. True, her swimsuit was modest by most standards – boy cut bottoms and a halter top that criss-crossed her back. But that modesty allowed the deep burgundy color to accentuate the constellation of freckles across her shoulders and the golden flecks in her eyes.

She took the towels from him and tossed them on the lounge chairs. "Come on Griss, the water's great." She coaxed him as if he were a skittish dog, dancing on the edge of the water – wanting to go in but afraid to commit to the action. Apparently that worked because he kicked off his sneakers and got in the pool. Dunking his head, he ran his hand through the wet curls of hair and gave a boyish grin. "This is perfect." Sara eyed his muscled legs and arms, his broad chest – and couldn't have agreed more.

Lazing in the pool, Sara noticed that they each surreptitiously glanced at one another while pretending to enjoy their surroundings. Deciding to actually look at the scenery, Sara noticed the sun lowering. Despite not wanting the moment to end, she reluctantly said, "I guess we should go get ready for dinner."

In her room, Sara luxuriated in the fact that she had Grissom as a captive audience for the whole trip. Maybe he'll see that there's no harm in our relationship, maybe he'll see that we have the discipline to maintain a personal and professional relationship. Maybe he'll see that I looked damn hot in these jeans and tank top. She hurried into the common room and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. The dark indigo rinse of the jeans set off the green of the tank top. And the back scoop neckline is positively devious.

But then so was Grissom. In the mirror she saw him enter the room. His casual jeans and black button up shirt shouldn't have looked as sexy as they did, but the fabric of the shirt framed his shoulders, the folded cuffs revealed his forearms. The man was teasing her with a Victorian amount of skin showing.

The drive into Carson City was cool and they soon found themselves seated on a patio. During dinner, Sara thought to herself, If this had been a date I would have to call it the best I've ever been on. But they weren't, so she contented herself with enjoying his attention and conversation, his hand on the small of her back as they walked. When they returned to the B&B, they put on some Miles Davis from the cd's the Vhay's had left out.

They sat on the couch reading the forensic journals they had each brought. Feet up on the coffee table, a cup of tea on one side and Grissom on the other, she allowed herself to think for a moment that this was their life. That the reading aloud of interesting passages and the companionable silence between them was the norm; that if she wanted to, she could stretch out her legs across his lap on the couch and he would absentmindedly rub them as he read.

As they each went to their separate rooms, she had never been so aware of distance as that night when only two doors and an act of bravery kept them apart.

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