"Natalie, this is stupid. I miss you, and you can't make me believe you don't feel the same way. We've been friends for a long time, Maura's presence shouldn't change that."
"It's not her presence that bothers me, Nick."
He had come to the lab to force her to talk. It had been two weeks now, two weeks of silence or else curt communication, excruciatingly professional, when work brought them together. Everything about his life had suddenly come to feel so natural to him that this made no sense at all. He wasn't naive enough to be unaware she was jealous, but knew it was more complicated. Natalie did believe Maura was a catalyst for him to backslide, to be content with his life as a vampire and to stop fighting against it. Maybe she was right, he no longer felt the panicky need to become mortal, no longer saw his existence as a prison. He had begun to consider that perhaps his obsession with penance as just that, an obsession that kept him from seeing and doing the good that was within his reach. Maura welcomed him, needed him and understood him just as he was. He didn't frighten or disappoint her, he wasn't a "could be" or a "used to be", in her eyes he was an "is". "Ain't nothing but is, Just Nick," she'd told him one night when he was caught in musing about some past perceived failure, and about how things might have been different if only, if only. He wanted to be patient with Natalie, to let her come around of her own accord, but he was beginning to fear that neglecting the situation might make it permanent and that was good for nobody.
"I'm sorry if I haven't been able to be the kind of man you think you want me to be, Nat. It's not as if I haven't tried."
"But you're giving up." She ignored his double meaning. It wasn't like him to be coy, but he had always been careful about not forcing her hand. So she wouldn't get angry, so he wouldn't have to face her logic. So he wouldn't have to hurt her in the final way they'd been postponing. And the truth was she would have given anything to be in Maura's favored position. Not her condition, of course, but the easy link she'd made with Nick, the connection that happened almost by default. There was a mutual understanding that Natalie knew Nick would never share with her. She'd always wanted him to be like her, always felt that was the only way to cure him of his melancholy need for distance. Well now it appeared she had been wrong about that too, because that need for distance had evaporated in a heartbeat when Maura appeared in his life. He wasn't afraid of her, of hurting or disappointing her. His only fear seemed to be that she might leave.
Nick sighed. "You're confusing giving up with acceptance. Not settling, not surrender. Acceptance that maybe who I am and what I do is all good enough the way it is, that I can find a way to make it even better without having to get down to the molecular level. I don't quite believe it yet, but suddenly there is a possibility I might. I don't think that's such a bad thing." He reached out for Natalie's hand, and in spite of herself she grabbed on, but couldn't look him in the eye as she asked,
"Do you think you love her? In a way you couldn't love anyone else?" Like me, for instance.
"I don't think we have the vocabulary yet for what this is. I just know I'm the closest to being at peace that I've been for 800 years."
"Maybe it's her magic blood, have you thought of that?"
He squeezed her hand. "I don't think you believe that. Drugs make you feel drugged, not secure."
The deepest part of the conversation went, as always, unspoken. Why not me, Natalie thought, why aren't I good enough? It's not you, Nick thought, it's not about shortcomings or what you might have done differently. It ain't nothing but is. He hugged her tight, and she hugged back fiercely.
"I'm sorry Nick, I know I should be glad you're finding a way to stop hating yourself. I just wish,"
"Ssh," he stepped back and let her go. Not a warning, but an acknowledgment that the words weren't necessary. "You need to know that Maura is disturbed by the notion of hurting our friendship. Personal connection is important to her, Nat, because she's never really had it. The last thing she wants to do is ruin it between anyone else." He looked so eager to convince her, so needing her to understand, that she couldn't keep the cool attitude any longer.
"Okay, Nick. I'm sorry, I know I've made it harder on you than I should have. Maybe you're right, maybe I'm reading this all wrong. Maybe there's more than a little bit of ego involved here." She shook her head as if to clear it. "Maybe I'd rather not go into that right now." She took a breath, sorting things out. "So, if you think maybe you're okay where you are, maybe we can look a little deeper into where Maura is, maybe there's a way to help her that doesn't involve hiding out."
His smile was genuinely affectionate. "That would be great, though I'm not sure where you'd start."
"Maybe on the 'molecular level'," she teased, then patted his arm. "I'll check some things out in her blood sample and let you know if I need to see her again."
"You could call her yourself, you know. She's not the one who bites."
"Ha, ha. Now if we're through making up, I have work to do."
He lingered a little awkwardly. "There is another thing I could use some help with..."
"What's that?"
"Well, it's about body temperature. I'm wondering if there's some way I could boost it," he trailed off.
"You mean without feeding."
"Yeah, you know that as it is I only warm up when I've had something to er, drink."
Natalie considered this as she sat on her lab stool. "But I thought you never had trouble with that, you're always pretty comfortable wherever you are." She knew his winter clothes and fur-lined gloves were only affectations to avoid questions. When he didn't elaborate, she understood. It was for Maura, not him. Of course, who wanted to get close to someone with the body temperature of a corpse? She really needed to stop being taken by surprise by any of this. It was obvious, had been obvious, how closely joined Nick had become to Maura in just a few weeks. Whether or not they had made love in the mortal sense, there was certainly a physical connection. She'd been naive to think that Nick had been sleeping on the sofa. She kept all of this to herself, merely suggesting, "So maybe we can look into finding a way to mimic the chemical reaction that happens when you feed, so you can have it on demand so to speak."
"Or find a way to have it occur all the time, like mortals do."
"But you're not mortal, Nick. You're asking for a global change in physiology that probably isn't possible."
His smile was narrow, and a little smug. "But that's what you've always proposed, isn't it? A global change to make me mortal. Well maybe we can work on just this one thing."
"Not for you, though."
"Nat, please. Don't start this again."
They stared one another down for a moment, and Natalie sighed in acceptance. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. But tell me something so maybe I don't feel like such a possessive bitch, does Maura have any problem with our friendship? The fact we've been close for a while and that I maybe can help you out of this?"
Nick looked almost apologetic. "Not a bit. In fact she has been nagging me to come here, told me it wasn't fair for me to expect you to make the first move when the trouble started on my side."
Natalie shook her head. "I do wish it was easier to hate her. But you're right, I'm applying mortal rules to something there's not even a definition for." He was beginning to look hopeful, which was interfering with her need to be self-righteous.
"She isn't threatened by our very real, very deep relationship," Nick told her, stepping closer to look in her eyes. "So why should you be threatened by hers and mine? Neither is more important than the other, or better, or more substantial. They're just different."
On a logical level Natalie knew he was right. Nothing that happened between Nick and Maura could possibly change what was between Nick and herself. As for her emotions, she would have to work on them. Both knew she wished she were in Maura's place in Nick's life, but they also knew what they had was important enough to hang onto.
"Okay, Nick," she told him finally, hoping not to let the trace of sadness show through. "More than anything I want you to be happy, to have the best kind of life you can. And if Maura helps make it that, how could I be selfish enough not to want it?" He hugged her tightly.
"Thank you, Nat, I was so afraid I'd lost you, lost us."
So there was her answer. Between the two of them, he would have lost her rather than Maura. Not that the power to choose belonged to any of them.
Before long Maura was accepted, albeit with a bit of puzzlement, as Nick's live-in girlfriend. Though Schanke and Stonetree found the rapidity of his transformation unusual, they and others who knew him had to admit that Nick Knight's permanent state of philosophical melancholy had been replaced by a lighter mood. Not gregarious or wildly upbeat, but more seemingly at ease with himself. And if it happened in just a few weeks, who were they to question it? Only Natalie knew the truth, which was perhaps not much different than the general understanding.
The annual department awards dinner was coming up. Schanke and Nick were to receive an above-and-beyond type of award for their work on breaking the case of a serial rapist/killer. Such things made Nick supremely uncomfortable, hating as he did, for obvious reasons, to be the center of too much attention. Even since his friend doctored the computer personnel records, his air of mystery remained among his colleagues and any more details they could glean from him were eagerly consumed. Now that the seemingly permanent single was known to have a love life, the curiosity increased exponentially.
"So Nick, you bringing the reluctant Maura to the dinner on Saturday?" Capt. Stonetree wanted to know.
"Afraid not, Captain, she has to work. Filling in for the doorkeeper at Raven. " He left out the part where the doorkeeper had flown – sans plane – to the French Alps to sample the rich young skiers. "Besides, she's not much of a party animal."
Schanke appeared from nowhere and shook Nick by the shoulder. "Come on, man, even Myra is coming! You can't get a special commendation without the little woman there to cheer you on!" As the only one beside Natalie who had met Maura, Schanke fancied himself an insider. Nick cringed a bit at "the little woman", knowing exactly how Maura would respond to such a description.
"Well if you promise to call her that to her face, I might give it a shot," Nick suggested drily. "Though I'd suggest you wear your Kevlar tux." To be honest, he hadn't even told Maura about the award, not wanting her to feel compelled to attend. Who was he kidding? She hated big parties so much it wouldn't matter if he were to be anointed king and sainted simultaneously. She'd smile, say "Cool, Just Nick," and curl up on the sofa to read for the evening after duly advising him on attire. Not that it had ever come up, but he knew how it would play anyway. And of course there was the certainty that they would be scrutinized all evening, every word and look and interaction with each other and anyone else. On display they'd be, all night, and the subject of avid discussion for days (weeks?) thereafter. He didn't even want to go himself.
Stonetree persisted, "Well just ask her, will you, you she might surprise you. And frankly I'd like to meet the woman that has chased some of the noir from your attitude, detective. I imagine she must be something."
Nick smiled, involuntarily. "She is that. Okay, I'll ask her. But no promises. And if she does say yes, Schanke," he turned on his partner, "try to leave your spotlight at home, huh?" Schanke raised both hands in conciliation.
"Understood, partner. I won't even speak to her."
"Right. No promises." Nick was beginning to realize that if he showed up alone that speculation would be wilder than any encouraged by Maura's attendance.
"No. No-no-no-no." Maura barely looked up from the cash shuffling rapidly through her fingers. She was counting money at the bar after closing, double checking before she cashed it out. For some foolish reason Nick figured she'd be less likely to laugh in his face at work. Wrong.
"Schanke promised he'd behave," he added lamely.
"Fuck Schanke. He couldn't behave if he was unconscious." She didn't dislike him exactly, he just got on her last nerve like a sugared-up six year old. She'd banded the bills and was heading for the office but Nick cut her off and planted himself in front of her.
"Look, this is the lesser of several evils. I can't not go and accept the award with Schanke. If I go alone, it's all I'll hear about all night and the following week, where's the 'mystery woman', why didn't she come, blah, blah, blah."
Maura listened in silence, regarding him with a cool stare. "So far all I'm hearing is your problem."
Nick threw up his hands in exasperation. "Oh, well, excuse me then. We'll just forget about how all the attention I'd almost succeeded in calming down has focused like a laser since your arrival."
"Don't go there," she warned, trying to step around him, but he kept step with her, leaning in to make his point.
"We're already there, or hadn't you noticed. Come on, Maura, we'll just make our appearance and beg an early evening, okay? You can get a headache or something."
"Why do I have to get a headache?" she demanded. This time she succeeded in dodging around Nick but he followed close by her ear.
"Just one night, and we can shut them up for awhile."
She stopped short and he walked into her. "I suppose I could be such a bitch that nobody would ever want to see me again..."
"Wouldn't that be a stretch," Nick muttered, though not low enough for her to miss. She whirled on him in outrage.
"You are so evil!" she hissed. Before he could say it, she did too, and it came out in unison, "Centuries of practice," and they both started laughing.
"Oh, all right," Maura relented, "but only if you dance with me."
Nick hedged, remembering their last dance at Raven and not wanting to even come close to repeating that performance. "Well, I'm not sure if they're going to have dancing."
"Deal's off," she declared and marched to the office door, where Janette was just coming out to see where she was with the night's door take.
"Oh all right, I'll dance your feet off, okay?" Nick was saying as the door opened.
"Dancing again? Why Nicolas, you've rediscovered your past," Janette drawled.
"Nick's invited me to the prom," Maura volunteered, and enjoyed the shock on her employer's face.
"The department awards dinner," Nick corrected. "If we show up together it might dampen some of the gossip."
Janette raised an eyebrow and smiled wickedly, "Or raise some more, if you're not careful. When is this... fête?"
"Week from Saturday. She can have the night off. Have one of your mascots do the door."
Janette readily agreed, noting, "It's full moon that night. You should be quite safe to be seen in public."
But on the ride home that night Maura began to have second thoughts. She hated being on display, and there was no doubt that the whole point was for everyone to see her, more to the point to see her with Nick.
"I dunno," she said, "I hate being watched. I've been watched all my life. I'm so sick of it."
"Well at least this time they'll just be watching, not stalking."
She sighed as he pulled up outside the loft entrance. "Yeah, okay. You're right, the way to keep people from peeking in the windows is to stand outside. Or something."
Nick arrived at Raven to pick Maura up on the way to the dinner. It was all a bit mysterious, but he gathered that Janette had enlisted her personal dressmaker to create something for Maura. Janette was behaving much out of her usual character, demonstrating an enthusiasm for the event as a sort of "coming out party" for Maura. The two had developed a guarded fondness for one another, not the least because of their cynical world views and weary instincts for survival.
"Now is your chance to engage mortals on their own home ground," Janette told Maura at her final dress fitting. Maura had let Janette have her way with the design, a modified gothic look in emerald green silk velvet with a black brocade-embroidered front panel of burgundy silk. It featured a fitted bodice with deep décolletage, the skirt falling on the bias from the hips. The sleeves were long and loose, fitted at the wrist with a long cuff fastened by three buttons of ruby crystal. Maura had objected to the length of the skirt, which Janette had originally intended should sweep the floor.
"For christsake, Janette, it's an awards dinner not the grand ball of the Duke of Mantua! Isn't it enough that it has a neckline designed for a harlot?" To be honest she loved the dress, even if it made her feel a little vamp-chic. Or perhaps because of it. It was agreed finally that the skirt would hang to cocktail length.
"I am a mortal," she now reminded Janette. "And engage them in what? It's a party, not a battle of wits."
Janette looked put out. "Now cherie, you mustn't spoil this for me. I haven't had the chance to dress a lady for presentation, since, since," she pondered for a moment.
"Since the last days of the Folies Bergère?" Maura prompted absently, tugging at the bottom of the neckline that certainly revealed enough cleavage for a can-can dancer.
"Well if you like I certainly wouldn't care if you bought one of those dreadful commercial creations off the rack." In Janette's mouth those three words sounded exactly like "from the dumpster".
Maura whirled as Yvonne, Janette's dressmaker, removed the last of the basting tape from the rolled hem. "Now Janette, I love it. Just ornate enough, without being vulgar." Janette disappeared for a moment into the private room off of her office, reappearing with a black velvet box in hand. "I think this will look splendid, you must wear it," she insisted as she opened the box to display the contents. Inside was a large full red rose, carved entirely from garnet and set on an ornate silver chain with a small gold clasp set with more garnets. Too stunned to respond, Maura stood motionless as Janette put the necklace on her and swept her hair aside to fasten the clasp. She steered Maura to the mirror, then stood back to admire the effect as she asked, "You have done a wondrous job, Yvonne. What do you think of our 'muscle' now?" More than once she had suggested to Maura that she perhaps might dress a little more elegantly. Not that she looked like a vagabond, of course, but no harm in indulging in a little elegance now and then even in a bar. Janette of course was always a vision of fashion.
Yvonne, a petite blonde mortal, enthused "Why madame, she will turn heads to be sure."
Maura stared at herself in the mirror. God, she looked so strange to herself. The pendant hung at exactly the right level midway between her throat and breasts. Maura could swear she could feel it radiating warmth.
"Janette, there isn't anything I should know about this little bauble, is there?" she asked suspiciously. "It's not some sort of cursed gift from Elisabeth Bathory or Bloody Mary or anyone like that, is it?"
"Certainly not. It was given to me by Lord Byron," she managed to deliver this with a look that was simultaneously innocent and sly, "and since both you and Nicolas are already 'mad, bad, and dangerous to know', what harm?"
Maura laughed and shook her head. "Fine." She turned to face Janette and Yvonne, and swept an elegant curtsy. "Mesdemoiselles, I thank you. I only hope I don't make Nick look like a derelict by comparison."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, cherie."
As Maura agreed with Janette that it would be fun to surprise Nick with her outfit, he was told that he should pick Maura up at Club Raven at 6:30pm on the appointed evening. She got dressed with little ceremony, choosing to wear her hair down over Janette's protests.
"Cherie, such a dress was made for an upsweep of silken hair," she argued, twisting the hair in question into an ornate knot behind Maura's head. "Look at what it does to display your throat."
Maura stepped away. "Enough with the throat, Vampira." She brushed out her hair and shook her head vigorously, letting it fall in rich loose waves about her shoulders. "I'm not going to the opera, after all."
"Am I permitted to see my 'date' now, or do I have to drive downtown blindfolded?" came a voice from out in the bar. Nick.
"Nah, get an eyeful now and get over it," announced Maura, pulling open the door without ceremony and striding boldly through, hair and skirt flying. "Wow," she murmured. Nick looked positively edible in black wool trousers, deep sapphire-blue silk blazer, and silver-grey silk shirt with a black tab tie anchored by a sparkling diamond tack. His mouth was opened to speak, but frozen now in a half-smile as he took in Maura's appearance.
"Likewise. You look," he began, nodding in approval to Janette and Yvonne who stood behind her, "she looks, well," he trailed off, then blurted out, "Hey, isn't that the necklace that you stole from Lady Caroline Lamb?" Maura exploded in laughter.
"So Byron 'gave' it to you, huh?" she challenged, turning to confront Janette.
She was unembarrassed. "He would have, cherie, but he never displayed very astute judgment when enjoying his opium."
Nick spoke up. "Well since we are agreed that we look better than anything abroad in Toronto this evening, let's go on to the dinner and shut up all the gossips, shall we?" He extended his arm like a true gentleman. Maura accepted the black velvet swing coat offered by Janette, grabbed the green velvet purse that held only lipstick and two ten-dollar bills ("Cab fare, cherie" Janette explained, "in case Nicolas behaves like a brute") and took Nick's arm as if she were stepping out with the Prince of Wales. She was a lot more nervous than she would admit. She never liked being the center of attention, it was one of the things that she and Nick shared wholeheartedly in common, but the prospect of a night out with new people was beginning to feel appealing.
They entered the conference center about twenty minutes into the cocktail hour. Nick had already prepared his colleagues for the fact that he would not be dining, only joining them at the table. The facts of his "macrobiotic diet" were firmly established and no longer questioned in general. Some preferred to think his not eating in public was a neurosis equivalent to being unable to pee when anyone else was around. Whatever worked, he always said. Maura hung back at the doorway for half a heartbeat. "Deep breath," she muttered.
Nick straightened his arm and let her hand drop into his. "Come on, chicken, let's turn some heads." Yvonne's comment had obviously gotten back to him.
And turn heads they did. Everyone nearby tried desperately to look casual as they checked out Nick's "girlfriend". Maura was almost relieved to see Schanke approach them in a rush, accompanied by a striking blonde draped in sequined black crepe. "Nick! Maura! You sure clean up nice!" The blonde at his side extended her hand to Maura first, offering her cheek to Nick. "Myra you look breathtaking," Nick complimented. "Allow me to introduce Maura Logue. Maura, this is Myra Schanke."
The contrast between this stylish woman and her gregarious husband was a stunner. Maura took her hand, saying "Myra, I'm so glad to meet you. You must be very proud of the work your husband has done." Myra smiled glowingly at said husband. "He is someone to be proud of," she declared. "And Nick too, they earned this together for the work they did. You know, even Robin Moran is here tonight." Robin Moran was the only surviving victim of the serial rapist Nick and Schanke had collared; they had apprehended him as he was beating her nearly to death. Both Nick and Schanke had worked prodigious overtime on that case, both personally offended and horrified by what had been done to the victims, both equally driven to prevent more. She squeezed Nick's hand. "There is a certain cachet in hanging with the good guys." At that moment a tall, beefy man obviously uncomfortable in his buttoned-up suit approached them, beaming.
"Captain!" Schanke exclaimed. "Here's the mystery woman that improved Nick's mood... sometimes," he indicated Maura.
"Joe Stonetree," the beefy man grinned and shook her hand vigorously. "I was beginning to think you were one of Schanke's caffeine-induced hallucinations." Myra Schanke laughed heartily at this.
"Maura Logue," she offered. "And I'm afraid I'm something of an hallucination to everyone. Too much work, and after dealing with long nights of Toronto's party people I usually like to play hermit in my off time."
"Sounds like you two are well matched," Stonetree observed.
"Maybe I should just leave the 'mystery woman' alone with her adoring public and go on home," Nick suggested in feigned insult.
"Don't you dare," Maura warned, wrapping her free hand around his arm. "You know how I am with strangers."
He smiled indulgently. "Yeah, you charm them out of their shoes." She smirked in reply and their eyes locked.
"Yep, partner," Schanke observed, " I'd say you've met your match." Nick freed his arm from Maura to reach around her in an affectionate hug.
"That remains to be seen, I'd say. The night is young."
"Good thing something is," Maura muttered out of the side of her mouth. From the corner of her eye she spied Natalie, dressed to kill and sharing a drink with her lab mates, studiously avoiding looking her way.
Dinner conversation was light and friendly, and none of the questions were very intrusive. They were all, naturally, directed toward Maura. How did she come to Toronto, how did she and Nick meet, did she like it here, etc. She was able to answer truthfully without much effort.
"I came here from Vancouver, and there from Boston. I'd lost my job out west, and figured I needed a change so why not head back East? I'm from Boston originally. I stopped here when I ran out of money, to be honest, and needed to find a job fast that didn't demand an upscale wardrobe or complex references! Luckily when I got to Raven my timing was perfect, Janette was desperate for a security manager. I'd done plenty of that over the years, so she hired me on spec and there I am."
"But what do you do when you're not managing bouncers?" Myra wanted to know. It was a reasonable enough question, but one Maura couldn't answer clearly.
"This and that. Whatever the job requires. I've been a bookkeeper, a crisis counselor, a hotel desk manager. I've done lots and lots of temp work, which is a great way to gather broad experience." And a great way to come and go quickly, she added silently.
"Think maybe you might settle down here?" Captain Stonetree asked pointedly. This was, of course, her cue to beam lovingly at Nick and probably squeeze his hand. Her dinner companions were disappointed by her shrug. "It could happen. I like it fine so far." She did tip a brief smile to Nick, but they didn't dwell on it. A puzzled silence followed, broken by the voice of the police commissioner announcing the beginning of the awards program.
Nick joked to break the awkwardness. "I've learned not to ask too many questions. She'll fill me in on a need-to-know basis."
Someone was tapping on the microphone on the small dais at the front of the dining room. It was the police commissioner, whose name Maura had already forgotten after Nick told her just few minutes before. So many people to talk to, and to her surprise and relief she was beginning to relax and enjoy behaving like a "regular" person. The attention didn't seem as scary now as Nick's colleagues obviously respected her privacy. He must have coached them a little. In fact, he'd coached them a lot.
"Schanke," he'd told his partner the day before, "I am counting on you to help prevent an inquisition. Maura isn't comfortable at the center of attention, and as you've pointed out one of the things we share in common is a taste for privacy. Do you think you can sort of spread it around, and ensure a pleasant evening for everyone?"
For all of his smartass displays, Don Schanke wasn't exactly a savage. "Sure, partner. We'll keep the dissecting table safely locked in Dr. Lambert's lab."
But now it was time for Nick and Don (Maura had begun to refer to him by his first name, encouraged by his uncharacteristically subdued behavior. He'd even seemed to deflect some questions she deemed a little to personal) to stand humbly by while the Commissioner and their Captain introduced them in glowing terms. Tenacious, driven by personal honor, taking a personal interest in the case and the victims, they spent endless hours and much of their own time to crack the case and prevent more women from being victimized. Robin Moran followed the commissioner and Captain Stonetree, offering an emotional account of her rescue and a heartfelt expression of gratitude to both before retaking her seat to warm applause. The applause grew more enthusiastic as Don, in an unusual display of humility, shoved Nick to the microphone, who thanked those present for their recognition while simultaneously deflecting it. Then Don stepped up and added "Well I don't mind if you give it up for me, guys, it doesn't happen that often," and the place went wild with cheers and catcalls as the pair returned to their table.
"Well you were as good as your word, it was brief," Maura was telling the Captain.
"Didn't want to embarrass the recipients," he explained as Schanke protested he wasn't embarrassed at all. Myra patted his arm and assured him, "That's okay darling, I'll be embarrassed for both of us." Maura got the feeling that Schanke's expression, a mixture of defeat and uncertainty, was not an unaccustomed one. In the next room, a band was warming up. Maura rose at once and hauled Nick to his feet.
"We're gonna dance, dude, you promised." Nick rolled his eyes and regarded his friends with mock weariness.
"Time to pay for the plaque, partner," Schanke smirked, but Myra was dragging him out of his seat as well. "Aw, honey, you know I hate to dance!"
"Well you hate to chase people down dark alleys too, and you just got an award for it. Be a big brave detective, Donnie, and set a good example for your partner."
"Why start now?" Nick jabbed, and they joined others on the trek to the dance floor. Maura was pleasantly surprised to recognize Vamp, the band that often rocked the crowd at Raven, and waved to the guys. They demonstrated their approval of her appearance with whistles and hand waves. Vamp was the dark metal Goth crew when playing at the club, but playing out in other clubs and functions they ran the gamut of rock and blues. Nick made good on his promise, and they danced every song until long after the Schankes had to stop for a breather.
"Don't look now," Nick said in her ear as he gyrated them to a funky blues number, "but I think someone's having a good time."
She dropped her head back and laughed, feeling him stumble just a little. It worked that way every time and she had to admit she got a cheap thrill cracking he famous Knight cool in public, if only for a heartbeat. Just then the band downshifted from funk to the Allman Brothers' "Sweet Melissa". Nick began to lead Maura off the floor, but she hung back.
"Come on, Just Nick, let's give 'em something to talk about," she invited. Without a second of hesitation he pivoted and took her in his arms. "Works for me," and he smiled that warm/admiring/indulgent smile that she'd come to love as much as his quiet voice. She kissed him then, unable to resist, and he returned it and followed with his own warm laughter as he spun them in place and continued the dance. And he really did dance with her, they weren't just standing in place groping each other and shuffling their feet. Nick moved with a dancer's purpose and grace, and Maura matched every move as if his brain controlled her body. She'd never been very good at following but with Nick it felt more like perfect tandem. He slowed them now, narrowing their motion but still drawing intricate patterns that wove them among the others around them, holding her with his arm secure around her waist, hand spread on her back, her fingers wrapped around his thumb on the other hand that surrounded hers. She stared into his eyes until seeing her reflection made her dizzy, then laid her head on his shoulder just as she saw Natalie approach as if to pleasantly cut in. Seeing Maura's head drop, she changed course and returned to her friends at the side of the room as if that was what she'd planned all along. Wishing she could feel more remorse, Maura pressed her face into the smooth silk of Nick's jacket.
"Oh, I think I'm headed for trouble, Just Nick," she told him hazily. She was more relaxed than she could remember being in such a long time.
"Why is that?" His voice was close in her ear.
"I don't think I should go into it now."
Lips moving in her hair. "Don't worry, Sweet. You can tell me anything, whenever you're ready."
She raised her head to face him. "That's part of the trouble," she confided. She felt drunk, even though she had barely had a sip of champagne. That smile again.
"No trouble, I promise," and he kissed her, lingering, not caring who saw, before he guided her back to where Don and Myra stood talking with Natalie and Grace. She liked how his hand felt in the small of her back.