Leather and Lace
By: Maidens of Konan
(Disclaimer: We do not claim to own any part of Fushigi Yûgi, it is owned by Watase Yuu, Shogakukan Comics, Pierrot Studios, TV Tokyo and Pioneer! Non canon ideas and any original characters that appear are the intellectual property of the author(s) and should not be copied without permission. Recipe requests for Miaka's yummy meat pies will be taken at intermission.)
Chapter Six
Miaka closed the door to her apartment and leaned back against it while the morning's events continued to replay themselves in her mind.
What had happened between her and Dante had the feel of one of her fantasies, but the hat clutched in her hands assured her that the man who had removed it for her it was flesh and blood real. It was proof that she had willingly and wholeheartedly kissed a man other than Taka, and a reminder that she had to get a handle on the connection between herself, Dante and Tasuki.
Dante wasn't the only one who had been dreaming about finding love- she'd been having those kinds of dreams while still residing in Japan. She had tried not to think about it too much, and hadn't told Dante because she'd known who that dream man was right away. Even in her subconscious, it wasn't possible for Tasuki to allow himself to be relegated to the background.
After the initial disquiet about thinking of a good friend in that way, she'd rationalized the content of her imaginings. Of course having Taka living in another country, coupled with a secret attraction to the handsome and heroic Tasuki would be a fertile setting for a fantasy. It was a normal response to overactive hormones, nothing to worry about; when she was reunited with Taka, everything would be fine.
These feelings just needed to be nutured by him at closer quarters, that was all.
She had felt it her sacred duty to make it so, and she'd packed up and moved to the United States with that intention. And the dreams had subsided when she'd first arrived, but not for the reason she'd thought; being too busy working on improving her English, securing gainful employment, and acclimating to her new life and the Colorado climate didn't leave room for anything but going to bed early and sleeping like the dead at first.
But as days turned to weeks, and it had slowly become apparent that closer proximity to Taka wasn't rekindling the passion in their relationship, the dreams about Tasuki had returned. She had allowed herself the indulgence this time without any qualms. There was no chance of any of it happening in reality, so what did it matter if she were seeing herself as a main character in a Jane Austen novel or the star of an epic Japanese shoujo story to imagine how a romantic scenario between herself and the bandit warrior might have played out? It was a harmless coping mechanism for what was happening, and not happening, in her real relationship and it gave her something to look forward to the nights spent at home with her newly acquired cat.
The dreams had gotten more detailed, and she'd grown more restless. After waking in the middle of the night to the sensuous after sensation of her dream bandit's lovemaking, she couldn't help but reconsider the 'it's totally harmless' angle. Now it was clear to her that repeatedly dreaming of Tasuki was a sign- and a warning- about her changing feelings regarding Taka; affirmation that the heart could make miracles, but then be capable of making a mistake in expecting things to stay a certain way. The knowledge of who Taka had been to her had gone a long way in blinding her to certain traits that had the potential to take a turn for the worse in this world.
He'd been living in the States longer than he'd originally intended, and last month when he'd broken the news of his contract extension, a decision made without consulting her, she wasn't surprised or all that upset. She'd already began to feel a disconnect with their relationship. And she wasn't sorry she'd followed him. Opportunities she never would have had in Japan had presented themselves- her life here had been an eye opener in so many ways. She'd never realized that she would be feeling so confident about her own success in a country that had been as foreign to her as the book world, much less be taking steps in applying for a longer residency without even asking if Taka what his plans about staying were.
She was becoming independent.
Taka couldn't see the problems they'd been having because he was so focused on the path he'd chosen for himself. She had initially refused to see that what he presented to her as his dutiful role to provide for a future wife and family was really an obsessive need for financial security. And what had she done but enable that obsession? She'd let things go on as they were, tried to stay positive in outlook, all the while dissatisfaction was stirring. Night after night she was wooed by the bandit seishi, who was always there for her while Taka wasn't. Day after day she thought about what what made a strong relationship, and found that hers bore little resemblance to anything she was envisioning.
Did the recent revelations of her heart have anything to do with Dante walking into her life? Was something bigger at work?
It was unfortunate that she couldn't consult The Universe of the Four Gods- it was still housed somewhere in the national library archive in Japan. Although that world was closed to a priestess who had fulfilled her role, she certainly could have read it to see if it would tell her what had happened in her absence.
It was probably for the best. Of course she wouldn't be satisfied with merely reading- or even establishing verbal contact with anyone inside of it, assuming any attempt she made at communication could succeed. Even if it did, it was no guarantee she'd get an explanation! The Universe of the Four Gods wasn't much for the dispensation of direct information - a lesson she'd learned on her first meeting with the benevolent but irascible Taiitsukun, whose rules of engagement involved legends and handing out information about them on a strictly need to know basis, which even then required the questioner to prove their worth through trials of character before being enlightened.
The first lesson she had learned was that there wasn't an easy answer to a worthwhile question.
The second lesson, figuring out what question was worthy of an answer, was even harder.
The third lesson, to know herself and then overcome herself, was the hardest of all.
What did she believe was the truth about herself now?
She stared down at the hat once again, mulling over the reasons why she felt no remorse for having been kissed by its owner.
Sometimes it took the pain of staying put being greater than the fear of the unknown to invoke change. A couple of hours spent with Dante had been all it took to make her feel what she wanted to regain in her life. He had shared his thoughts with her in a way that Taka would not, had made her smile and laugh in a way she hadn't for a very long time. And kissing him drove everything out of her mind except wanting more.
She had already been questioning whether a marital partnership with Taka would be satisfying, but it took meeting a second reincarnated warrior to get her to act. It couldn't be a fluke that she'd crossed paths with the personification of the man who was willing to challenge the powerful Tamahome in defense of her feelings; the only thing that had stopped him from succeeding had been her own request that he stand down. And he had, putting himself through agony before she'd seen the grievous error she had made in underestimating his devotion to her.
Dante was that same kind of man. He wouldn't lie about his feelings, but yet he'd walk away if that was what she wanted. She owed it to him not to repeat the mistakes she'd made the first time around. Right now, there was nothing to be done but to be honest about her feelings about their current situation. No matter how right or how good it felt to be with Dante, engaging in romantic encounters with him while Taka still thought they were a couple was wrong.
A jingling collar bell heralded the arrival of Mizu. As soon as the cat spotted his mistress staring intently off into space, he padded up to her and butted his head against her ankles, the best way he knew to bring her out of her muse.
"You knew Dante was special, didn't you kitty?" She crouched down and scratched beneath his fuzzy chin while he purred his approval of her attentions. "It's not just because of Tasuki that I'm strongly attracted to him. But is it unfair in wanting to know him also because of who he was? I shouldn't expect anything from Dante that I had with Tasuki. but yet it's still there."
The purring stopped as Mizu sat down and regarded her with an unblinking, enigmatic stare.
Miaka sighed.
"I suppose it doesn't matter if it's fair. The fact is that he kissed me, I kissed him back, and now I will have to hurt someone I don't want to hurt."
The Siamese responded with a gruff meow, and then ran to jump onto the back of the couch, his favorite perch when he wanted to keep an eye on things. Miaka smiled fondly at her pet, and then stood and kicked off her sandals before heading off to the bedroom to change.
When she was halfway to her destination, the phone rang. She hurried to pick up the cordless receiver, glancing at the display before answering. She didn't recognize the caller number. Maybe it was Dante, calling about the hat he'd forgotten?
The thought brought on a big smile as she pushed the talk button, and athrill of anticipation ran through her as she waited for a reply to her somewhat breathy hello. "Moshi moshi- I mean, hello?"
"Miaka! Where the hell have you been?"
The agitated male voice barking at her in Japanese erased her smile and pulled her back down to earth with a jolt."Taka! Did you get my message? I'm so, so sorry about this morning! I had every intention of being there, but I was unavoidably detained."
"That's what you said in your voice mail. By what? What happened?"
"By the police. I got stopped for speeding."
"I see." Taka's tone was wary. "It took a really long time for writing you a ticket?"
"Not exactly. While I was getting the ticket, I ended up having a dizzy spell. " She sank onto the sofa, wondering how she could broach the subject of Dante. Now that the moment of confrontation had arrived, there was a sick feeling churning in the pit of her stomach. "It was bad enough that the policeman who stopped me was worried that I would have another one. He wouldn't let me drive."
"That was probably best if you already got one ticket."
"Yes, and he was right. I wasn't in any shape to drive."
"How are you now?"
"Much better after drinking more water and eating something." She paused. "He gave me a ride home. We stopped on the way and I grabbed a bite to eat."
"That was nice of him."
"Yes, he's a very nice guy."
There was an awkward pause. With a loud jingle of his collar bell, Mizu jumped up and into her lap, glaring at the phone as if he knew the person at the other end was responsible for her distress. Grateful for the support, she pet him in long strokes as he curled up.
"I put off a meeting so we could be together, you know." Taka said.
"I appreciate that, and I'm sorry."
"It turned out I was able to have it after all, but I might as well not have bothered. Do you think I could concentrate on what he was saying while I was wondering what happened to you? I pretty much wasted his time and mine!"
Does he realize what he's saying? Worrying about my safety is a waste of time? Miaka thought, stiffening in resentment. Mizu raised his head as he felt her thigh muscles contracting beneath him, then stood up and began to knead the flesh beneath him with soothing, velvety paws as she replied, "I didn't stand you up on purpose, Taka. As I just told you, I had a spell of altitude sickness and the policeman who stopped me then insisted I shouldn't be driving and brought me safely home! Which I really need to talk to you about-"
"Didn't you have your cel phone?" Taka snapped, ignoring the suggestion. "All you had to do was call or text me and I could have come and gotten you!"
Miaka closed her eyes and counted to ten before she dared to reply. "Yes, I did think of that! Unfortunately the phone didn't work because I forgot to recharge the battery last night. It was very late when I got home from work and I was tired. The only things I cared about were a hot bath and a soft pillow!"
"I've also been trying to call your land line all morning!" Taka informed her stubbornly. "It just rang and rang. Haven't you activated the voice messaging?"
She glanced at the machine, and saw it was off. "Yes, but I guess I didn't turn it on."
"I don't know what to say. What's gotten into you?"
"I overslept and was in a hurry, so I screwed up! I'm sorry! I'll apologize as many times as you want, but I would think you have better things to do than waste your time listening to me grovel for forgiveness over something so petty as that!"
A tense silence blanketed the connection. Miaka seethed, but bit her tongue. Telling Taka about Dante out of anger wasn't the way to handle it.
Taka cleared his throat.
"I told myself I wasn't going to yell at you and I did anyway." He said, sounding concilitory. "You always call! You've never blown me off before! I couldn't get in touch by cel...dammit, Miaka, I hated not knowing where you were, and if you were all right!" He paused and a loud exhalation of breath crackled over the phone line. "You did leave a message, eventually. And I know you didn't delay it on purpose, and I'm sorry if I'm being harsh, but I was worried!"
The apology and the sincere anxiety in his voice eased her wounded feelings. "I'm really sorry that I worried you. I'll make sure to charge my phone every night from now on." While she was speaking, her gaze was fixed upon the policeman's hat lying beside her. She'd delayed because she'd been so excited about being with Dante. Having preference for another man's company over Taka's had been a monumental first step to changing the course of her life, and she had taken it with a surprising lack of hesitation. Could she really go the rest of the way?
As if from a great distance she heard a voice speaking to her in an inquiring tone. She tried to focus on what Taka was saying, but ended up having to ask him to repeat the question.
"I was wondering since you're off tonight and I'm not working late, why don't I stop by?" His voice dropped into the low, intimate tone that had always weakened her knees. "We could have dinner in. I'll even cook, though we both know it won't be as good as one of your meals. Then after dinner, I could give you one of those shiatsu-style back rubs you like, and after that, I could make the rest of you feel even better…"
The words trailed off suggestively, and the confidence that lay beneath them was evident. And Taka had good reason to be sure of her acceptance. Their history was such that they both knew that she would have dropped everything and done anything for a chance to be intimate with him, even if it was on short notice. But she'd was less than receptive to this kind of overture ever since she'd had the epiphany that they only happened whenever Taka had upset her and felt he needed to atone. Over the last few weeks, that aspect of their relationship had taken on the feeling of a busy master throwing his neglected pet a bone rather than the joyous, full hearted mingling of bodies it had once been.
The idea of a romantic and sexy evening with Taka was an idea she simply couldn't entertain.
"I don't think that can happen tonight," she said in a neutral tone, "I'm tired and not feeling the greatest...and I have to work the early shift tomorrow. It's probably best for me to have a quiet night to myself."
Stunned silence greeted her response. Miaka had to suppress a hysterical urge to giggle, even though there was nothing funny about Taka being rendered speechless at her refusal of a rare treat. After all the times he had blown off their dates, he had finally gotten a dose of his own medicine!
"Then I'll take a rain check," he finally said, sounding noticeably subdued, "I know you've been working really hard, and after what happened to you today I don't want you overdoing it. Altitude sickness is nothing to mess around with, you need to pump the fluids and get plenty of rest."
"I know, and I will." She promised, as a twinge of guilt tweaked her conscience over his showing concern for her well being having no idea she'd been in another protector's arms. "Taka…I'm truly sorry about what happened this morning. I was not thinking straight, I should have called you again as soon as I got home!"
"It's okay. You were feeling sick...and anyway, I know I've done the same to you about a hundred times since you got here," he admitted. "I'm very sorry it came down to you having to get a speeding ticket because you didn't want to miss seeing me! I swear that it will be better in the future, honey! The long hours I work now will be rewarded by my getting the kind of promotion where I'll be able to delegate most of the stuff I'm doing now to others. When that happens, I'll be with you so much you'll think I'm your shadow! You believe that, don't you?"
There was an expectant silence, and Miaka rubbed a hand across her forehead, trying to ease the onset of a tension headache. Taka was waiting for her to tell him that yes, of course she believed that he was doing it for them, and that yes, she wholeheartedly supported his efforts to attain financial freedom for the future. But for the first time in their relationship she was going to deny him the satisfaction of hearing those words. They no longer rang true. He knows darn well that I don't need a mansion, fancy vehicles and truckloads of possessions to be happy. All of that is for himself. There will always be one more thing that he has to get before he can be happy.
"Miaka? You understand that it's for the best, right?"
"I do understand," she replied, "that earning a living comes first. It's just the way it is."
There was another awkward pause before Taka changed the subject.
"I do have some good news, Mi-chan." He was speaking in the careful, cajoling manner of a man that is no longer quite so sure of the mood of his woman. "I was going to surprise you with it at breakfast, but...well anyway, I managed to clear my entire schedule for the entire weekend so I thought I could take you for a couple nights in Cripple Creek! If you're feeling up to going, that is."
She wasn't impressed. The number of times he had made plans to take her for visit the historical town only to have to cancel because of work cast a more than reasonable doubt in her mind that he would follow through this time. "I'm sure I'll be feeling all right when that time comes." She said, with a touch of irony.
"And I'm going to make sure you have the best time ever, my love!" He declared. "I've wanted to take you to dinner at the Broadmoor Hotel as well- how how about if we stop for a bite there on our way home?"
Against the odds, she was wavering. The spontineity of the offer held echoes of her sweet Taka of old, and the genuine eagerness in his voice gave her a tiny glimmer of hope. Perhaps this signaled a change in his thinking. Perhaps his worrying over her had made him see that his priorities were in the wrong order. After all he had meant to her and all that he'd done for her, shouldn't she give this a final chance?
"That sounds fun," she admitted, "I've heard the restaurant at the Broadmoor is excellent."
"It is! I'll have my secretary call you to finalize our plans." Taka said. "You should have something fashionable and elegant to wear for a five star restaurant. If you're feeling up to it later, take my credit card and go and buy yourself a nice dress and some pretty lingerie."
The small blossom of hope wilted before it had bloomed. It is? So he'd been there already? Ah well. It probably had to do with his job. But buying her a nice dress? Did that mean the ones she had weren't good enough?
Tamahome had sometimes struggled in expressing his feelings to her, but one thing he had never done was make her feel like a prize to be bought. The importance of money for him was solely for the noble cause of caring for his sick father and young siblings.
Taka had been more like that when they had first met, back when he was working as a waiter. As soon as he'd moved up in the world, he went from enjoying the simple pleasures money couldn't buy, to never being satisfied, wanting money to the point of excluding anything -or anyone- that kept him from that pursuit. He's treating me like a mistress, and our time together like a business deal. This man was far removed from the person who had said that his purpose in being born into this world was to love her. She barely knew who Taka Sukinami was anymore.
But you've changed too, haven't you, Miaka? Her conscience rebuked her. Once upon a time you loved Taka so much you wouldn't look twice at Tasuki as a man. You wouldn't have allowed him to kiss you, let alone kiss him back!
"Miaka? Are you still there? You're not feeling sick again, are you?"
"I'm fine." She replied mechanically.
"You sound tired, I should let you go, so you can rest."
"I think I will take a little nap." She was disappointed in herself for taking the out, but it also wouldn't be good if she hadn't prepared enough to explain her decision in the face of the argument that was sure to follow what she needed to tell him.
"Don't forget to plug in your cel phone before you lie down, okay?"
"I won't. Sayonara, Taka."
"Goodnight my love."
After Miaka hung up the phone, she reached for the hat lying next to her.
Leaning back into the couch, she put up her feet as she balanced it between her hands, gazing at it as if was a crystal ball that could give her the answers she sought. Her fingers idly traced the law enforcement crest on the front, and then slipped inside the brim to caress the inner contours that had rested upon its owner's glorious hair.
A rueful smirk curled her lips. How pathetic am I? Sitting here fondling a hat as I wait for a call that very well might not come! But she couldn't get depressed over the possibility when she was completely certain that Dante would call her if he said he was going to do it. The problem was she was equally as sure that she wouldn't do anything or think about anything else in the time before answering that call. The prospect of having that low growl of his voice in her ear excited her more than a weekend getaway to Cripple Creek and dinner at a five star restaurant. The only guilt she felt in that admission was that she hadn't yet come clean with Taka about Dante. Why had she taken the easy excuse he'd provided instead of confronting the issue?
It was too much. All she'd done was think and fret ever since she'd gotten here. The house of pain she'd built was a dwelling she wanted to leave.
It was time to act.
Dante is going to need the hat right away. Bringing it to the precinct building could get him in trouble if his coworkers would question how it ended up with me. I really don't want to explain why I have it ...or lie to them about it. I could drive over to Brew You and leave it there. But I don't know that he would want Craig involved?
Mired in her mental debate, Miaka jumped at the loud jangle made by something being dropped on the floor next to her feet. Looking down, she saw Mizu staring up, her car keys lying between his front paws.
Smiling, she reached down to scratch him behind the ears. "You know I'd love to return it to him directly, but I don't know where he lives."
The cat gave her a disgruntled look, then jumped up on the end table to paw at the cordless phone.
His mistress smacked herself on the forehead. "Yes! Why didn't I think of that? I'll call information to see if his name and address is listed! It'll save him a trip…and I'll get to see where he lives!"
She picked up the cat and hugged him to her, blithely ignoring his struggles to get away. "Treats for you, Mizu-Pizu! You're one incredible kitty!"
As soon as he got home from work, Dante replaced his uniform with his favorite t-shirt and a comfortable pair of cutoffs, and then wandered into the kitchen to unwind with a glass of vino and the prepartion of some supper.
He had just gotten dinner on the stove top and had uncorked a bottle when the front doorbell chimed. Frowning in displeasure at the demand, he made no move to answer it, willing whoever was at his door to leave him in peace.
An afternoon of having to listen the lame excuses of drivers while he sweated like a pig within the hot confines of his long sleeved uniform had amply punished him for his slack time in the morning. One sweet little old lady had cried as he told her the background check on her license revealed that it had been suspended due to her recent diagnosis of glaucoma. Though he felt deep sympathy for her plight, he had had to harden his heart; with impaired eyesight, she was a danger to herself and others on the road.
To top things off, he found he missed the hat that was no longer in his possession. He hadn't realized how much of a buffer it gave against the sun and people gawking at his hair.
Iin spite of the less than stellar latter half of his work day, he had returned to the station at the end of his shift in a decent mood, and with high hopes of getting news that his reassignment was a one day shot because the Boss had gotten him reinstated to his case.
It hadn't taken long for Connery's administrative assistant to put his hopes on ice. Turned out that the old man had left work early without giving any word as to Dante's status. After that disappointment, he spent too much time doing his paperwork on computer, prolonging the ordeal due to making some stupid clerical errors.
Then, on his way home, the Jeep picked up a nail in the left front tire. While he had been changing it, he had spotted a car that looked just like Miaka's. His heart had leapt with excitement until he spotted the 'Reality Sucks' sticker on the front bumper, and the balding, middle-aged male behind the wheel. Thoroughly disgruntled, he returned to his task, now absolutely certain that he was being punished for this morning's dalliance.
But even so, it had been so worth it.
Thinking about the morning's events was exhilarating and nerve wracking. She had a boyfriend, but that had to be pretty much over. She wanted to see him again! And he couldn't wait to call her, but he didn't want to seem pathetically eager. He had his pride!
Yeah pride. He damn well knew he couldn't have walked away from her if she'd said she wanted just to be friends.
The time to call her was nearing, and the chime of his front doorbell was an unwelcome interruption and intrusion into his thoughts. He needed to eat and think about what he was going to say to her. He was in no mood to deal with a potential problem standing outside his door.
He rubbed his aching neck with one hand and continued to sauté his dinner with the other.
If I don't answer, maybe they'll give up and leave.
To his increased annoyance, the doorbell sounded again.
And again. And again.
Whoever was waiting was a patient and determined person.
Muttering curses, Dante made a move to turn off the burner.
As he stalked out of the kitchen, he shot a glare at the clock on the wall. It was too late in the day for a salesman or the lady from across the street with her weekly invite to her social activities , and too early for the old lady next door to call and ask him to check the neighborhood for ne'er-do-wells. He chuckled grimly; after a memorable run-in with Dante's infamous temper, Evelyn had suddenly realized that when he was off duty, he needed that time to relax and eat his meals.
The false medical alerts were another story. He'd have to address the issue with her the next time she dared crossing that particular line.
That left just one more possibility. Craig was the only person foolhardy enough to show up unannounced at this inopportune time of day, and was chomping at the bit to know how a little hottie like Miaka had fallen into Dante's lap and what Dante was planning to do about it. The guy's preoccupation with getting him permanently hooked up with a woman was starting to wear a bit thin.
Don't want him here when I call Miaka, but I got no reasonable excuse to make him leave. Dante thought with a scowl. I'll just have to put up with his crap. If he knows who I'm talking to, I'm screwed, but if I don't call, I'm screwed even worse.
Resigned to his fate, he cast a narrow-eyed glare through the skinny window next to the door, which quickly became a wide eyed look of surprise as he glimpsed the petite Asian woman with wavy auburn tresses standing on his front porch. I'll be damned! How'd she find me? Kinda looks like she's havin' second thoughts, though. Better invite her in before she runs away!
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he yanked the door open, happy for the first time since he'd moved in that there was no outer storm door. Nothing should get in the way of his getting close to this particular visitor! He leaned a hand against the doorframe, looking down at her with grin. "Hey Miaka!"
"H-hello Dante."
She shifted from one foot to the other, her hands clasped behind her back. He allowed his gaze to move over her form, taking thorough stock of how cute and sexy she looked.
Her hair fell loose about her shoulders, making his fingers itch to comb though it. Her large, gorgeous eyes held a shyness that was confirmed by the pink tinge that had appeared in her cheeks. It was sweet, and made him suspect that at this moment she was thinking of the kiss they'd exchanged.
That was good.
In contrast to the dress of this morning, she now wore a pair of denim shorts that showed off sweetly curved hips and a tantalizing amount of leg, and a tight white T-shirt that emphasized her womanly attributes.
Very nice.
His gaze lingered a bit longer on the most prominent parts of her anatomy before returning to her face in time to see that Miaka was checking him out too- if a little more subtly.
When her eyes widened and fixed upon a spot near his shoulder, he automatically glanced down, curious to know what had caught her attention. Comprehension dawned as he spotted the bead encrusted rope of hair his sisters fondly referred to as his 'rat tail'.
"You have a braid," she murmured, stating the obvious.
"I hide it under my collar!" He admitted. "And I don't have any in, but I may as well tell ya I like wearin' earrings too."
She stared at his ear lobes, obviously seeing the telltale holes for the first time.
"Hope that doesn't put ya off." He added.
"Not at all! I always liked seeing earrings on-" she stopped, then finished weakly, "...on a man."
Dante looked pleased. "Good to know! I'll be sure I'm wearin' some next time!"
Miaka averted her gaze. Thanks to feeling shy and nervous, she'd almost made a disastrous slip of the tongue. The pleasurable mental image of Dante wearing a certain bandit's trademark jewelry hadn't helped either.
As if he doesn't look sexy enough now, she thought, as she ran a hidden glance over his torso, noting with appreciation how his cropped t-shirt accentuated broad shoulders, a muscled chest and nicely defined biceps. Low riding cut-offs hugged his lean hips, and exposed his flat abdomen to advantage. His legs were long and as fit as the rest of him. Her eyes took in Nike encased feet, and then lifted to meet an amused amber gaze. "I took a chance that you were home." She blurted.
"I just got here a little while ago." He craned to look around her. "Whatcha got hiding back there?"
"Oh!" Regaining a bit of her composure, she brought the hat from behind her back. "Here you go. I came to return this to you."
Dante was no longer smiling. He stared at the hat as if it had sprouted four legs and a tail.
"You left it in my car." She explained. Maybe Mizu's idea wasn't quite so wonderful after all. I should've called and asked him if it was okay to come over instead of just showing up on his doorstep! That was really dumb! "I waited until now, because I thought you might get in trouble if I brought it to the station."
Dante still hadn't made a move to take his property, so she continued in a nervous staccato.
"I have a GPS- I got your address from the phone book! I'm very sorry to intrude! Silly of me, you probably didn't need me to bring it when you were going to call, I should have made arrangements to return it then! Here, take it, and I'll be on my way!"
She thrust the hat forward, prepared to leave as soon as it was in his possession.
Dante's hand rose in response, but instead of taking the offered item his fingers encircled her wrist. Her skin soaked in the contact with illicit pleasure even as she agonized over her inexcusable breach of etiquette.
"Good job in finding me. You're not intruding. You're not silly. And yes, I needed it. " He stated succinctly. "Now that you're here, please stay for awhile."
"Thank you, but you just got home, and I don't think that's a good idea-"
"Please." He repeated. "The bad attitude is because I was disappointed ya had a reason to come here besides just wanting to see me."
She had no defense against his honesty. "Oh."
"Yeah." He said, watching her face pinken with pleasure. "Oh."
As happiness flowed through the cracks in her heart, Miaka knew that the change she had been contemplating was underway.
It was strange to think that when they'd first met in the book, she hadn't given a thought to Tasuki being anything but her guardian warrior. Of course, as time had passed they'd established a friendship that soon became a familial bond. He had acted like a big brother, and she'd assumed he thought of her as a sister until that fateful night at the Inn.
Tasuki had been under a spell so it really wasn't his conscious self who had attempted to force himself upon her. But after Hikou had captured her and explained the spell, she realized that there had to have been a solid reason for it to have worked as well as it had. During his profuse apologies, Tasuki had confirmed that by admitting to her that his actions had been based on feelings for her other than friendship.
In a cruel twist, that admission together with his many sacrifices on her behalf had opened her eyes and her heart to the bittersweet possibility of returning his feelings. But even as she thought it, she knew it was too late. She loved Taka, and her course could not be altered if he were to survive. She'd gone back to treating Tasuki as a friend and ignored anything else she might have felt for him. It had been simpler and safer not to acknowledge that things could have gone in another direction if circumstances had been different.
And now the circumstances were. Another place, another time. Dante shared Tasuki's physical characteristics and the happy arrogance that had always made her smile. He had Tasuki's straightforward manner and gallantry. For all intents and purposes he was the embodiment of Tasuki, albeit a more adult embodiment.
But Dante was his own person. There were going to be differences other than the obvious ones of background and nationality that would crop up- she knew that because it had happened with her in regards to Tamahome and Taka. Dante deserved to be appreciated on his own merits as well as for what he had been to her in the past. But as much as she knew that, she still couldn't help wondering how much Dante might remember of what had become of her beloved bandit after she'd left.
Tasuki. If she closed her eyes, she could picture his final salute as she was sent back to this world...
"Miaka?"
She blinked. "Yes?"
His smile was wolfish. "If you were usin' your imagination just now, it better be about me."
She opened her mouth, but the formation of words was diverted by the sensation of Dante's thumb caressing the back of her wrist. She was sure he could feel her pulse banging against his fingers, as he began to pull her towards him.
"It...it was."
"Good."
She was right in front of him now. Sweet anticipation pierced her at seeing the intent in his eyes, but her gaze was diverted to the open doorway and the haze that was billowing forth to hover over his head. She sniffed experimentally, and her nose registered a slightly acrid smell. Yes, something was definitely burning. "Um, Dante…would you happen to have left something cooking on your stove?"
Her companion jerked as if snapping out of a trance, and then froze with an expression of chagrin as the aroma of charred tenderloin assaulted his nostrils.
Without a word, he turned and ran inside his house.
Miaka hesitated for only a brief instant before following.
After removing her shoes and making sure the door was securely closed behind her, she hurried along the path he'd taken and found herself standing in a pleasingly large, sunlight-splashed kitchen. The sight that next met her eyes had her biting the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing. Dante stood at the sink, frying pan in hand, letting the rushing water from the tap douse smoking, blackened chunks of meat. Luckily for him, the water also drowned out his muttered curses. Glancing over his shoulder he gave her an embarrassed grin.
"Thought I turned the burner off, but it was on simmer," he shrugged, "I was going to ask ya to stay for supper, but I've managed to ruin it…"
"I'd be happy to stay for a meal!" She said, moving further into the room. "I'm sure we can find something else to make. Let me prepare it for you!"
Dante shut off the water with a decisive flick of his hand. "All right, but only if you swear you're not going to judge my culinary ability on this one time. I really can cook!"
"I believe you." She smiled as she took the smoking frying pan out of his other hand and gave him his hat. "I'll take care of this. I think you need to go and change the batteries in your smoke alarms! They should have gone off!"
"Yes ma'am." He said dutifully, and went to do as she suggested.
When Dante returned from his assigned task, he pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and dropped into it with an appreciative grunt.
By the look of things, Miaka had everything under control; she'd already disposed of the burnt offering in the pan and washed it, and was now busy gathering supplies. His eyes followed her with ever-increasing masculine interest. There's definitely something very sexy about watching her cook for me, he thought idly. The rest of him agreed, judging by the way his body stirred to life as his guest got something out of the refrigerator and he got a perfect view of her cute little ass.
"Thanks for bringing my hat back," He finally said, hoping conversation would banish the wild impulse he had to taste Miaka the way she was tasting the salad dressing she had just whipped up.
She glanced at him quickly before picking up a pairing knife and starting to slice the cucumber she had just gotten from the refrigerator. "You're welcome." The knife paused in mid chop. "It was terribly forward and rude for me to show up unannounced, especially when I could have waited and told you about it when you called instead."
"I'm glad you didn't wait."
"I was actually happy when I found it." She confessed. "It was the best excuse to see you." The chopping stopped, then resumed. Miaka kept her eyes on her hands, but seemed quite unaware of the unnecessary force she was using to hack the ill-fated cucumber into oblivion.
Dante grinned at her flustered expression. Leaning his arms on the table, he rested his chin in one hand and regarded her with laughing eyes. "You know, great minds think alike. I was debating over whether I should forget the call and just turn up on your doorstep tonight with two hot fudge sundaes and a video!"
"I would have liked that very much." A smile confirmed it, though she still avoided eye contact.
"Why a chef?" He asked.
She looked up, startled by the abrupt change of topic. "Excuse me?"
"I was wonderin' why you want to become a chef." He clarified. "My sisters all hate to cook, and I learned out of necessity."
"I'll tell you if you tell me why you decided to become a policeman first!" She teased, then immediately kicked herself for sounding flippant as her host's smile disappeared. Clearly, she'd hit some kind of a nerve. "Dante, I apologize. If it's a painful reason, you don't have to-"
"No, it's all right." He assured her. "My dad was a cop in Atlanta, and he was killed in a shootout when I was a kid. Goin' to his funeral, seein' all the uniforms that came out in his honor, riding in the procession they had for him and having so many of them keep an eye on my family's welfare in the years following is what decided my career path. I wanted to give back to those officers as well as honor my dad's memory!" He looked away, but not before Miaka had seen a hint of moisture in his eyes. "But I did it for myself too. My Dad believed that it was his destiny to serve and protect, and that's why he did what he did! He always made sure that he gave his all to help people do the right thing, an' I guess that attitude rubbed off on me as well, because I feel exactly the same way."
Miaka put down the knife, and went to take his hand. "I'm so sorry about your father. He was a good man, and I'm sure he's very, very proud of what you've accomplished."
"Thanks." Dante's eyes were averted, but he squeezed her hand tightly before releasing it.
Sensing he needed some space, she returned to her preparations.
When he looked up a few moments later, his expression was cheerful. "I've answered your question, so now it's your turn! So, 'fess up- what made Miaka Yuuki want to become a chef?"
"Well, because I love to eat." She began, as Dante chuckled in remembrance of the huge lunch he had watched her consume. "But mainly because I was also getting tired of the jokes about making myself and other people deathly ill with my horrible cooking!"
She waited patiently for his laughter to subside before continuing.
"When I started high school, I signed up right away for some gourmet cooking classes. My friends and family thought I was a hopeless cause and that they would be goners…." she rolled her eyes and he laughed again, "but much to their surprise, and mine, I stopped burning things and actually got the hang of what I was supposed to be doing. Not soon after that, I realized that I enjoyed gourmet food preparation, and actually had a strong desire to excel at it, so I took and aced every cooking class offered at Yotsubadai. By the time I graduated from there I had applied to and had been accepted at Tokyo's top culinary school. I graduated with honors, then got a job in the kitchens of one of Tokyo's best Chinese restaurants. I had worked myself all the way up to assistant chef before I moved here. I have no regrets, though, since it was a dream of mine to study in America."
"An' here I thought your boyfriend was the reason you wanted t'be here," Dante remarked.
Miaka lowered her gaze to the tomato she was slicing, feeling his watchful gaze boring into her as she avoided giving him a direct answer. "It was both. Like I said, I'd always wanted to study in America, and when I found a position in Colorado Springs, I grabbed it. It was a demotion from the responsibilities I had at He-Yan Gardens, but the pay is good, and I'm learning more about American cuisine than I ever could in Tokyo. I also have the opportunity to work my way up again to chef-in-charge, so I don't mind paying my dues."
"That's impressive." Dante responded sincerely. "But I gotta ask- what the heck is a sous-chef?"
A sideways glance told her he was embarrassed to have had to ask. Miaka grinned. "It's a fancy title given to the person that prepares all the ingredients and garnishes for the head chef's recipes before they are taken to the clientele. It's not very glamorous saying I de-bone chickens, make sauces, and chop vegetables for a living, but I had to start some-"
Her voice broke off abruptly as the knife she was wielding slipped sideways. Before she could react, it had sliced into the tender flesh of her forefinger. She let out a small cry of pain.
Dante was at her side in a flash. He winced and went pale at the sight of the steady stream of blood trickling down the side of her finger, but his grip and voice were steady as he looked at her injury.
"It doesn't look too deep." He assured her, after a quick examination. "I don't think you'll need stitches."
"I hope not," she whispered unsteadily. "My hands and fingers are my livelihood."
"Then I should tell ya somethin' that not too many people know about my assessment skills." He flashed her a mischievous smile. "I'm always right!"
Despite her throbbing finger, she couldn't help laughing at the cheerful arrogance in his voice. Dante's unflagging optimism, and his teasing despite the deep concern that shone in his eyes were definitely inherited traits.
Amusement was a memory now, and an urge to cry welled up within her as she wondered once again what could have happened to the bandit seishi that would enable Dante to be with her now. She quickly cast her gaze to her feet and blinked hard to hold back the threatening tears. Dante was doing his best in trying to cheer her up. She didn't want him to see the pain that had nothing to do with her injured finger, and everything to do with the ache in her heart.
Her host had tucked her arm securely under his as he guided her to the double wide sink. He adjusted the faucet to cold before turning on the tap, then placed her injured finger directly underneath the cascade of water to wash it free of blood. Miaka sucked in a breath and closed her eyes against its icy sting.
After a couple of minutes, Dante turned off the faucet and raised the injured hand to inspect the wound. The satisfaction in his voice as he pronounced it to be a fairly superficial cut gave her the courage to open her eyes and examine the injury on her own.
"Thank goodness!" She breathed as she stared at the trickle of blood emerging from her skin. "I couldn't imagine trying to chop up anything at work with stitches in my finger."
"A little hydrogen peroxide and a band-aid will fix ya right up." Dante said.
Now that the crisis was over, he was suddenly very conscious of the light floral perfume she wore, and of the warmth of her breath caressing their joined hands on each exhalation.
Focusing on the graceful fingers curled within his palm, he tried his best to ignore the desire that was pooling low in his belly.
"C'mon, I keep all the stuff you need in the bathroom."
Miaka nodded agreement and allowed herself to be led out of the room, her hand still cradled in his.
After they had exited the kitchen, Miaka found herself in the hardwood floored hallway, the walls of which she saw held a number of framed photographs. She barely got a glimpse of them, however, as Dante quickly pulled her along and into what turned out to be a large bathroom. Her eyes opened wide as she admired her surroundings.
The late afternoon sunlight streamed in from a skylight, washing the terra cotta floor and adobe wall tiles in a warm burnish of bronze and gold. A long counter ran along one wall, containing an assortment of Aloe Vera plants, two sinks and a vanity, above which hung an a open shelved wooden cupboard full of fluffy towels and assorted toiletries. A toilet was tucked away behind a half wall of glass blocks in one corner, along with a enclosed shower. Opposite them, a four person oval Jacuzzi sat beneath a copper and bronze wall fountain sculpted to resemble a fan.
"It's an oasis!" She breathed, eyes shining. "It's the most beautiful bathroom I've ever seen!"
"Thank you kindly, ma'am!" He replied, looking charmed by her enthusiasm.
As Dante released her hand and went to retrieve the first aid items from a nearby cupboard, Miaka turned to watch him, utterly fascinated by the rolling of his hips as he walked, and the smooth rippling motion of his shoulders when he reached for an item. She averted her gaze when he turned towards her, watching his long fingered, strong-looking hands as they set a bottle of peroxide, a tube of antibiotic ointment, and a box of band aids down on the counter beside her. He went to get the chair from the vanity and then sat down, beckoning her to come closer.
Miaka extended her hand and stared at the top of her host's fiery head as he cleaned her wound, feeling her skin tingle wherever he happened to touch her. She was growing warmer and warmer, and it had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. From the very moment she had met him, he had had this effect on her; the possible consequences both worried and thrilled her. She probably should not have stayed, but she was weak...
"There you go. All done, and I think you're going to live!" Dante joked, as he smoothed the ends of the band-aid into place.
"Thank you so much, you make a good Doctor!"
He chuckled. "Don't thank me yet. It's gonna be sore, like a really bad paper cut. You don't want to be handling hot peppers or anything acidic."
"I have a good tolerance for pain!" She told him, thinking that was an understatement. "I'll wear gloves at work. As long as I can grip a utensil I'll be fine."
"Thatta girl! Positive thinking is the way to go!" Dante said, and lifted his head to smile at her. As their eyes met and held, his smile faded and his grasp on her tightened.
"Dammit, don't look at me like that." He said throatily.
She didn't fight the impulse to brush back the strands of hair that had fallen over his eyes. "How am I looking at you?"
His gaze was steady and very, very serious. "Like ya want me as bad as I want you."
She breathed in sharply, enjoying the scent of his body as she slowly tipped her head forward. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, forming silken curtains for the sides of her face. Dante's eyes darkened as the tips of the soft strands brushed his cheeks. He let go of her hand and snaked his arms around her waist.
"Is our wanting each other a bad thing?" She asked, fingering the end of the flame colored braid resting on the top of his shoulder.
"Not bad, just kinda dangerous at this point." He replied in a somber tone. "It's too damn soon to take that step, no matter if it feels like we're ready to take it." A taut smile touched his lips. "There's another iron in this fire. I'm not a very patient guy, but I'm willin' to be one for you- it would kill me if I pushed ya into doin' somethin' that might end up making ya sorry you met me."
"I could never be sorry I met you!" She informed him passionately.
"You say that now!" His arms loosened, and his hands moved to grip the sides of her waist as if ready to push her away, then lingered as if to prove they could just as easily pull her against him, if that was what she desired. "But ya don't know that much about me to be certain!"
Miaka stared down at him, wanting to tell him it wasn't too soon for her because she knew all she needed to know, that she was sure of who he was as a person, and already had a very personal connection with him. But what would that accomplish at this point? He wouldn't understand what she meant, and trying to explain it before he was ready to hear the story would make the situation even more complicated than it was. For his sake, it was best that she not jump into anything.
But knowing that didn't make it any easier to back out of Dante's embrace.
"Guess it's back to the kitchen for me, then!" She said, in as chipper a tone as she could manage. "If I don't get going on supper, we won't be eating until midnight!"
She had turned and was halfway to the door when she heard a muttered curse.
A hand encircled her wrist and halted her progress. She barely had time to gasp before she was spun around and pulled against a hard and unyielding body in one fluid motion. In the next moment, Dante's mouth came crashing down on hers. Helpless in the onslaught, her lips parted to receive the passionate thrust of his tongue into her mouth. She moaned, leaned against him to maintain balance on her wobbly legs. Strong hands began to move over her back, shaping and molding her as she clasped her arms around his neck. The flames of desire were burning hot, and she gladly let them consume her, welcoming Dante's tongue with swipes and forays of her own.
The pleasure of tasting him was too much, was more than she could endure without wanting more. She felt a hard burgeoning at the front of his cutoffs and pushed her pelvis against it, all the while basking in the knowledge that she was the cause and focus of that reaction. His hips thrust forward in response and his restless hands roamed from her back to her sides, where they paused, letting the warmth of his palms soak through her t-shirt. Then they began to stroke along the length of her rib cage, his thumbs stopping just short of touching the undersides of her breasts. She wiggled impatiently, and then gasped as a muscular thigh slipped between hers and pressed against the apex of her legs. Intense sensation arrowed through her, bringing with it the need to touch bare flesh.
Unwinding one arm from around Dante's neck, she ran her hand over his chest and down to the exposed part of his stomach. A first tentative touch found that his skin was sleek and warm; the next made the lingering discovery that the muscles lying beneath it were ripped and forceful. Dante inhaled sharply as his abdominals quivered and flexed under her fingers' shy exploration; his hands stilled, then tightened their hold on her sides as her caresses became more provocative.
When the pad of her thumb slowly circled his navel, his control snapped. A low, hungry growl emitted from the depths of his throat; his mouth widened and ground down on hers while one large hand lifted to cup her breast. Miaka gasped, delighed by the surge of new sensations that his caresses were invoking as her own hand slid daringly lower down his torso.
As questing fingers reached the area just above his erection, Dante groaned and tensed. He had thought that he could keep passion in check, but he had failed to take into account that Miaka might touch him intimately, and that when she did, it would push him straight to the edge.
It was now or never. If he allowed her hand to reach its intended target, he'd end up taking her on a cold, hard bathroom floor- not a setting he'd care for her to remember when thinking of their first time together.
With a superhuman effort, he dragged his mouth away from the intoxicating sweetness of hers; drawing in deep, gasping breaths, he reached for her wandering hand and unwrapped her arm from around his neck. Her whimpers of protest faded as he grasped both of her hands in his and then lifted each to his lips, pressing warm, soothing kisses into their backs, palms, and on the tips of each finger in turn.
"Ya see what I mean? Better haul that cute lil' tush outta here before I forget how to be a gentleman!" His breath came in hot, heavy pants against her fingers. Sexual hunger glittered in his eyes, along with a warning that said this was not a time for her to argue or test his control.
With a small nod, Miaka slowly pulled her hands from his. After a final, lingering look back at him over one shoulder, she turned and fled the room.
When he was sure she wasn't going to return, Dante moved to the nearest sink, turned on the cold water, and splashed liberal handfuls from the flow upon the heated skin of his face and throat. Once he felt he had cooled down sufficiently, he reached for a towel. While drying his face, he stared hard at his reflection in the large mirror that ran almost the entire length of one wall.
"Keep it in your pants," he said to himself, grimacing at the state of his hardened gender, "an' make sure it stays there until she decides whether it's you or him! No regrets; just keep actin' like the gentleman your Mama raised ya to be, and everything will turn out fine!"
The flame-haired image nodded approvingly back at him, but looked just as unconvinced as he felt.
Miaka sat back and drank in Dante's features over the rim of her wineglass as he regaled her with stories about his childhood, his family, and the events leading to his move to Colorado Springs. Finishing the dinner had helped her to regain focus. She hadn't come here to throw herself at Dante, or to sleep with him. She'd just wanted to do something nice and say hi.
She had almost blown it by losing her head. He was right. Things needed to slow down.
His noticeable surprise and pleasure at her eagerness to hear his life story had made her wonder if his old girlfriend Sandra had ever bothered to get to know him at all. Therefore, she had made a point of hanging on his every word at dinner and afterwards- not that it had been a difficult task. She enjoyed watching him and listening to the sound of his voice, which was just as expressive and sexy as the rest of him.
They had decided to eat at the oak plank table in the kitchen. Dante had dug up two mismatched tapered candles and they had stuck them in a couple of old wine bottles. Even though the sun was just beginning to set, he had lit them. Then he had laughed as he had brought out his dishes, telling Miaka that the orange and lime colored stoneware set had been hand thrown, painted and baked by one of his sisters, an amateur artist going through a '70's retro phase'. She had laughed along with him, but secretly thought it was very sweet that Dante actually used the garish, slightly misshapen plates, especially when his sister had no way of knowing if he didn't.
The kitchen itself was a dream. Large and airy with plenty of cupboard space, it had a look reminiscent of the old southwest, complete with a wooden beamed, vaulted ceiling, and beautifully tiled counters. If the décor a person chose for a certain room was an true indicator of their personality, then Miaka would have immediately guessed Dante to be a hospitable and easy-going person.
She smiled at him as she set down her glass. "So tell me more about your mother. She must be quite a woman to raise six children all on her own."
Dante nodded. "She sure is, but she wasn't entirely on her own all that time. About three years after my dad died, she met Gabe. To hear her talk about how they met, it was as if it were meant to be." His tone warmed with affection. "Gabe's a great guy and stepdad. He makes my mom happy, and he loved us like we were his own kids…which was pretty remarkable considerin' some of the shit we put him through at first."
"You have a close family. You must miss them."
"Yeah, but we all get together at least once a year. Mom and Gabe are retired now and bought one of those huge RVs! The whole family comes up here for a reunion week! There's usually a big barbeque the last day they're here."
"That sounds wonderful! " Miaka exclaimed. "Keisuke and I used to have fun going to the park near my school for picnics! Even after he was at university we'd get together there at least once a month, no matter what time of the year it was!"
"Sounds fun." Dante said tersely. "Who's the guy?"
Miaka looked askance at him, wondering what on earth she had said to bring on his sudden coolness.
She found her answer in his tight expression and unblinking glare.
"Oh, Keisuke?" Hiding her amusement that he would be jealous of her sibling was difficult, but she managed. "He's my older brother."
"Oh!" Dante looked away, but visibly relaxed. "Any other siblings besides your big brother?"
"No, it's just been Keisuke and me, since our parents split up when I was four. My dad kept up his visitation rights with us for the year after the divorce, but then he remarried and we didn't see much of him after that. Mom pretty much raised us by herself."
"Divorce is tough on kids."
"Yes, and also for a single parent!" She agreed. "I realize that now. As hard as it was dealing with mom at times, she always did her best for us. I was worried about her being alone after I left home, but it turns out that she's met a man, someone really nice, and things have turned out fine!" She smiled wistfully. "As much as I adore Keisuke, it would be nice to have a little sister...it must be wonderful to be a part of a big, loving family like yours, Dante."
"Yeah, it's nice," he said, "but like I told ya at lunch, it has its drawbacks-a total lack of privacy for one! Imagine me trying to get some quality bathroom time in a household of hormonal teenage women! After going through that phase, trainin' to become a cop seemed like a picnic!"
Miaka laughed. "I can imagine that must have been kind of difficult."
"It was a damn war zone!" Dante leaned forward to pick up his glass of wine and took a deep swallow. "The way Ma tells it, I'm lucky I even made it to sixteen!"
Still giggling, Miaka reached for her glass, but her hand froze in midair at seeing a bright flash of crimson from Dante's forearm as he lifted the glass to his lips. Her mouth fell open as she spotted the brilliantly colored mark in the same location that Tasuki's seishi symbol had been.
Quickly regaining her composure, she asked him with forced calm, "Is that a tattoo you have on your arm?"
Dante glanced down. "Yeah." After setting his glass back on the table, he ran his fingers over the mark on his arm."Had it for so long, I sometimes forget it's showing."
"Would you mind if I took a closer look?"
"Not at all." He held the arm out for her inspection.
Hardly daring to believe her eyes, Miaka pulled his arm to within an inch of her nose as she studied the intricate tattoo which she now saw was of a phoenix. The radiant red and orange hues of the bird and the long shimmering tail reminded her strongly of the god Suzaku in his animal form. Enthralled, she traced over the design with a forefinger, oblivious to the shiver that passed through Dante in response to the soft caress.
"This is exquisite workmanship!" She stated, trying hard to sound as though her heart wasn't pounding with excitement. Why hadn't she noticed it before?
Dante leaned closer and studied the tattoo, trying to see what he usually took for granted from her point of view. "It's not too shabby as tattoos go, I guess," he agreed modestly.
"The colors are so vivid! " She marveled. "It almost looks like it's alive!"
"Yeah, that's kind of a weird thing about it." He agreed. "I was told that tattoos start to fade over time but this one's stayed as bright as it was the day my bandage first came off." He hesitated, then continued as if unable to help himself. "And I know this is probably going to sound bizarre, but sometimes it seems that there are times where it gets even brighter, almost like it's glowing." His smile was self-conscious, his attitude defensive. "Of course no one else I've asked to look at it has seen it. It's probably just my overactive imagination, like they say."
Miaka shook her head. "I don't think it's your imagination. In fact, I noticed just a minute ago that it seemed to flash, and it's getting even brighter now! Look!"
She traced the outline of the tattoo with a finger, and the bird's colors intensified beneath her touch.
"Wow." Dante breathed. "How did you do that?"
"It's my special magic!" She teased.
He laughed. "That's as good an explanation as any!"
"Why did you choose a phoenix?" She asked, tracing over the bird's form once again.
"I've always been fascinated with Mythology." Dante said, his defensiveness was dissolving under her touch and the scope of her interest. "The phoenix happens to be my favorite legendary creature. I always liked that it's a survivor- that no matter how many times it gets burnt by life, it always rises again with renewed hope and courage."
Like you once did, dear one. Miaka thought, as she reluctantly released his arm."Did getting it hurt much?"
"It depends how you define much." Dante rubbed a hand over the tattoo with a rueful laugh. "Let's just say that I wish I'd asked beforehand if it would hurt like the devil!"
"That bad, huh?"
"Yeah. At first anyway- after a while I think the nerves overloaded or somethin', because I didn't feel the stick of the needle as much."
"Why did you choose to put it on your forearm?" She tried to be nonchalant in asking, but eagerly awaited the reply.
"It made it easier for me to flaunt it in front of Ma." He laughed at the memory. "I was a seriously rebellious seventeen year old, and had the idea that gettin' a tattoo without permission would prove to Ma that I was independent of her. A friend of mine helped me snag a fake ID and then I headed straight for the nearest tattoo parlor!"
Miaka smirked. "I don't suppose you gave any thought to it being permanent?"
"Nope! As usual, I acted rashly." His grin was unrepentant. "That's a trait of mine that hasn't improved with age, but without it, I wouldn't had the guts to go for the finest treasure I've ever found!"
"That's wonderful!" He was happy, and that made her happy. "So what was it?"
"More like, who was it, and where has she been all my life?"
He waited as she thought about it, and grinned when he saw comprehension dawning in her expression.
"I see. " She wanted to say she felt the same about him, but the glint in his eyes was the kind that meant it was safer to change the subject. "Did you want some help cleaning up?"
Rising as she spoke, she began stacking their plates.
"Hold it!"
She froze in place at his command.
"Sit down, please. You did all the cookin', so it's only fair that I do the cleanin'- hey!" Dante exclaimed, as she resumed stacking the rest of the plates. "Are you listenin' to me?"
She picked up the plates. "Sorry, no time to chat. I'm busy clearing the table."
It tickled her to no end to know she'd gotten the best of him, but her snicker at his sigh of aggravation changed to a gasp as she turned too quickly towards the kitchen and the plates unexpectedly shifted, putting direct and severe pressure on her injured finger.
"Miaka!"
Dante leapt to his feet, coming up behind her in record time. Unfortunately, she chose that very moment to turn back to face him.
Their bodies collided with a sickening clatter of stoneware. Dante instinctively grabbed her arms to keep her from falling, and then watched in bemused horror as the plates tilted back into her body and their leftover contents splattered onto her chest.
Miaka quickly righted the tipped plates, and then stared down at the gravy, mashed potatoes, salad dressing and leftover roast beef au jus that had been plastered down the front of her favorite T-shirt.
Slowly, she raised her embarrassed gaze to her host.
"Criminy, what a mess!" Dante's voice shook with suppressed laughter as he took quick glances from her expression to her food laden chest and back again. "Sorry about that."
Her eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. "Are you really? Before you answer, let me remind you that as a policeman, you're under oath to tell the truth!"
"Good point." He acknowledged cheerfully. "And I refuse to answer the question on the grounds that it might incriminate me."
"You're fortunate that I'm a guest in your home, or I would be mashing what's left on these plates all over your chest!"
His grin was wicked. "Hmph, I'd like to see ya try!"
Her intent was written all over her face, but before she could act, he had grabbed the plates out of her hands. Chuckling at her sound of exasperation, he carried the stack over to the sink, snagging a hand towel that was lying on the counter next to it on his return trip to her side. He extended it to her as if it were an olive branch.
"All kiddin' aside, use this to wipe off the gunk. I'm going to go find somethin' for you to wear so I can throw your t-shirt in the washer."
"Thank you." She accepted the peace offering, grimacing as the movement of her arm caused more food to slide off her breasts and onto the floor.
"I'm gettin' a yen for seconds," Dante said, eyeing her chest with a smirk.
She gaped at him, then scraped up a dollop of mashed potatoes that still clung to her.
"Hey now! I'm sworn to tell the truth!" He protested, then turned and beat a hasty retreat as she aimed for his back.
"Missed me, missed me, now ya gotta kiss me!" He crowed, as the food went wide of its mark and splattered on the counter.
"AS IF!" She called after him, then grinned as a gleeful chortle drifted in from the hallway. Really, the man was outrageous! She couldn't ever picture Taka indulging in this sort of horseplay!
No dwelling on the past, Miaka. Live in the moment. Enjoy the present.
She set to work, using the towel to mop up the food she'd thrown. Folding it over, she then tried to wipe away the rest of the mess on her shirt, but to her annoyance, her attempts only served to smear the stain rather than remove it. In the short time it took her host to return to the kitchen with a velour robe draped over his arm, she had given up.
Dante eyed the stain, which had doubled in size, chuckled quietly, and then held the robe out to her as a peace offering when she glared at him. "It's gonna to be way too big for ya, but it'll have to do."
"It's perfectly fine!" She didn't care one whit what she'd look like in his robe. All she wanted right now was to get out of her sticky, very sodden t-shirt and dampened bra. "I can always roll up the sleeves."
"You know where the bathroom is, right? Or ya can even change in my room if ya want- it's the door at the very end of the hall." Dante continued, as she snatched the robe from his outstretched hand. "Make sure to holler 911 if you need any assistance."
The mischief dancing in his eyes belied the seriousness in his voice.
"A kind offer, but I think I can manage," she informed him in a snooty tone, "thank you anyway."
"No need for thanks, ma'am. As a public servant, it's my sworn duty to help the unfortunate!"
She snorted. "For your information, Officer Helpful, removing a lady's clothing is above and beyond the call of duty!"
His uninhibited laughter followed her as she strode out of the kitchen. Once out of sight, Miaka broke into a goofy grin, thinking how good hearing that sound made her feel inside. But as she headed down the hallway, her light hearted mood soon changed to one of sober caution. After a pause and short contemplation of her options for a changing room, she set a course for the bathroom instead of the door at the end of the hall.
As curious as she might be to see what it looked like, she was certain that undressing in Dante's bedroom would present temptations that would be far too great for her to resist.
To be continued….
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