Thank you for continuing to read this story, and for your kind reviews. Here finally is 'the date'. I hope that it meets expectations. Cathy.
"This place is wonderful. Just amazing," Cecilia said in awe, as she took a forkful of her escargots appetizer, and looked around the restaurant. Jim beamed at her pleasure.
The Poseidon was, naturally enough, a seafood restaurant. What made it different and unique was that they had forgone the predictable lobster trap, anchor and fishing net decor. The only real ornamentation, actually, was a giant mural that encompassed the entire restaurant. Rather than the standard four straight walls, the interior of the Poseidon was a series of smooth curves, wending around the exterior of the room, meeting above in a domed ceiling that sparkled with a multitude of recessed lights, reminiscent of stars in a night sky.
The mural depicted an underwater panorama. An ocean teeming with marine life. Schools of fish darted amongst coral and beds of kelp, slipping past the diners. Here and there a dolphin dove, or a jellyfish floated on an unseen current. The realism of the painted images, and the way the talented artist had made them appear three dimensional, as not just pictures, but living creatures, was phenomenal. The sense of movement in this masterful trompe l'oeil almost convinced Cecilia that they were actually submerged beneath watery depths.
Every time she looked around, her eye was drawn to something it had missed the first time. The subtle shadowy form in the background to her left, that proved to be a life-sized orca, actually gave her a start when she finally noticed it. How easy it was to imagine that they were dining under a glass dome in some distant sea, and not actually in the midst of a dry, Nevada desert during one of Las Vegas' worst heat waves.
The plush carpet beneath their feet was dark blue, as were the tables, upholstered chairs and linens, making them recede so that the mural took centre stage. Lighting was indirect, so as not to distract from the marine illusion. Each table held a candle ensconced in a blue glass jar, which flickered softly, casting flattering shadow in the intimate space.
Playing faintly in the background was a musical composition of orchestral delight interspersed with whale song. The haunting calls of the great humpbacks stirred Cecilia and made the hair on her arms stand on end.
Jim was thrilled with her obvious delight. When he had asked her to dinner, wanting to take her somewhere special, there had been only one locale in Vegas that he thought would truly qualify. The subdued lighting caught blue-black highlights in her long, dark hair, and cast enchanting shadows on her tanned features. Her dark eyes glowed with wonder and enjoyment.
The truth was that Jim hadn't really thought much about their date during the day. Preoccupied with the funeral, it wasn't until he had dropped Catherine off at her place, and she had innocently invited him to stay for dinner, that his anticipation had begun to build. Jim had been chagrined that his lack of composure had lead Catherine to so easily deduce that he had asked Cecilia out this evening. Once she had though, teasing him lightly, Jim had found himself eager to be with the writer again.
He had showered and changed, watching the clock until it was time to pick Cecilia up at her apartment. A shot of the Chivas over ice had done nothing to calm his nerves. Jim couldn't remember the last time he had looked forward to something with such unrestrained zeal. His life had become predictable, his enthusiasm for anything outside of his job, negligible. But when he had lifted his hand to knock on the blue door, promptly at eight o'clock, Jim Brass had felt alive in a way that he hadn't felt for longer than he could remember.
Cecilia looked at Jim across the table, thinking how relaxed and happy he looked. The deep crevices that cross-sected his brow seemed smoother this evening. The smile that played about his lips was genuine and engaging. He looked wonderful in the indigo linen shirt, and similarly coloured tie, and the well-tailored black trousers.
She had decided on the black dress that she had worn to the Kellerman's dinner party. Even though Jim had seen her in it already, Cecilia knew that she would be hard pressed to find anything as flattering, or that made her feel as good when she was wearing it. When she had opened the door for him earlier that evening, the open admiration in the gaze that had swept her from head to toe, had given her confidence in her choice.
"I'm glad you like it," Jim responded. "And they have the best chef in all of Clark County, if you ask me." He delved into his bacon-wrapped scallops and nodded with satisfaction to confirm his assessment.
Later, after the entrees were placed on the table, New York striploin and rock lobster tail for Jim, and a chef's special shrimp and scallop pasta in a garlic wine sauce for Cecilia, Jim refilled her glass of chardonnay. "So what do you like to do for fun, Cecilia?" he asked her.
"Writing, even though it's my career now," she began. "I've always written for pleasure as well. Short stories. Poetry. Now and then I'll even do some fan fiction, when the mood strikes me." She gave a sheepish chuckle.
"Fan fiction?" he repeated curiously, smiling at her over his glass.
"There are whole internet communities where people who share a common love and interest...in a particular movie, television series, or even a published novel or book series...create their own stories based on the existing characters and often spun off of existing plotlines. Fiction created by and for fans." Cecilia smiled. "Anyone who wants to participate can. The quality of the writing is often quite amazing, and it's interesting to see fictional characters, created by someone else, brought so vividly to life by others who love them and sometimes almost seem to know them better than their creators."
"I've never heard of that," Jim admitted. He wasn't sure why someone would want to do that, and considered it for a moment. "So, say, if someone was a big Star Trek fan, they could resurrect Kirk, Spock and Bones and have then jaunting about the galaxy having unending adventures. Create new episdoes, in a way."
"Exactly, " Cecilia agreed. "Star Trek, actually, has one of the largest fan fiction followings."
"Hmmm. I can see where that might be kind of interesting," Jim acknowledged. "So...what do you write?" he queried with a grin.
"There was an old television western in the sixties, my favourite show when I was a child, called 'The Big Valley'. Centred around the Barkley family of Stockton, California. That's who I bring back to life," Cecilia admitted.
"Oh yeah, yeah," Jim remembered the show, though vaguely. He'd seen reruns advertised on the western channel. "Barbara Stanwyck, and the Six Million Dollar Man."
Cecilia laughed. "Lee Majors. Yes, that's the one. Anyhow, that's one of my guilty pleasures. I belong to an internet club with other fans and we post our stories there. It's just for fun, there's no charge to either share stories or read those of others." She sipped her wine. "Whatever someone's fan fiction interest, there is probably at least a small group of other people who share it."
"I guess that's my something new to learn for the day," Jim smiled at her. "And when you're not writing for profit or fun, what kinds of things do you do?"
Cecilia told him about some of her other interests. She loved to go to garage sales, thrift stores and flea markets, searching for good deals and reasonably priced collectibles. She enjoyed crafting. And she was a big fan of Nascar, which surprised Jim for some reason.
"I worked a case a few years back," he remarked, "out at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway. The Cup drivers were in town. There was an attempted kidnapping, the kid of one of the drivers. Luckily they didn't get him. Turned out it was a local guy, working in cahoots with someone on one of the other pit crews. I'd never really paid too much attention to Nascar, just figured, like so many, that there couldn't possibly be anything worthwhile in guys driving around in circles."
Cecilia smiled, having heard that same thing many times from others who couldn't understand her devotion to the sport.
"Anyhow, the dad of the kid invited a few of us to come for that Sunday's race, and since I was off and had nothing else to do, I went. They gave us what they called 'hot passes', so we could get behind the scenes. I was actually pretty impressed with how much there was to it. With the professionalism and decency of the drivers. And the whole sport wasn't some hokey redneck thing, but big money with a really diverse group of fans." Cecilia nodded. "I was able to meet many of the drivers and car owners. Most I didn't really have any clue at the time as to who they were. But I'd heard of Dale Earnhardt. I got to meet him briefly. He died the next year."
"February, 2001. The Daytona 500," Cecilia said somberly.
"Being there, and seeing a race live, sparked my interest," Jim admitted. "I'm not a hard core fan, but I enjoy watching it when I can, and know most of the drivers now. I like Mark Martin, and Ryan Newman."
"I'm a Ricky Rudd fan, myself," Cecilia confided.
They spoke for a while about racing, the conversation leisurely, consuming their dinners which Cecilia had to admit were incredible. When the topic had petered out, she turned the discussion to that things that Jim Brass liked to do, and inquired about his hobbies.
"Well, since I gave up that whole exotic dancing thing," he began with a wink, referring to his joke at their previous dinner with Catherine and Gil, "I turned to hockey. There's actually an ice rink in Las Vegas, believe it or not, and a group of cops rent some ice time and play once a week, a couple of months a year. I played alot of hockey growing up in Jersey. For a while when I was a kid I wanted to be pro, but I wasn't big enough or fast enough, so I had to fall back on plan B, which was to be a cop like my old man." Jim smiled a fond remembrance of his father. "I used to play a little darts at one of the pubs off strip, but haven't in a while." Jim paused, realizing that there wasn't much to add, and imagined how boring he sounded. "I guess that's about it. The job is pretty consuming."
Cecilia nodded her understanding. She loved listening to Jim's deep voice. She was acutely aware of him physically. Being here with him stirred thoughts and emotions that both frightened and thrilled her.
"One thing I always thought I'd like to do," Jim was sharing now, "was to be a foster parent. But being in this line of work just isn't very conducive to a structered, stable homelife for a kid." He gazed reflectively at the candle. "I know I was a lousy dad to Ellie, and I probably don't deserve to ever have that kind of influence in a kid's life again," he commented sorrowfully. "I always kinda wished though...that I could get an opportunity to make things right. It was too late with Ellie. But maybe...maybe I could help a kid whose own parents had let them down, or who just didn't have anyone. A second chance for both of us.
"I guess I figured, I don't know, that I'd learned something from my mistakes. And I see so many kids all the time through work, kids who are great kids, and they just need somebody." Jim shrugged helplessly. "But I knew that my life just wasn't what a kid would need. Long hours. Pulling double shifts all the time. I used to think...one day, maybe I'd remarry. Have something stable. Someone to make a real home with. And then I'd adopt one or two of those kids. Older kids, the ones that are hard to place."
Suddenly, Jim felt an overpowering craving for a cigarette. What the heck was he yammering on about? He'd never shared these dreams with anyone before. They were just wild musings, never going to come to fruition. It was ridiculous to even imagine himself worthy of being entrusted with the care of another child, after he'd screwed up his own kid so badly. Surely Cecilia was thinking the same thing.
Instead, she reached across the table, took his hand and gave him a poignant smile. "You have a good heart, Captain," she said softly, shyly. Cecilia knew that in her own dreams of motherhood, she had always concentrated on attaining that biologically, thinking that if she didn't become pregnant with a child of her own, that parenthood would always be denied to her. She had never really given much thought to adoption, especially of an older child. She knew that it was indicative of a caring soul, and a great deal of love to share, that Jim Brass had.
Jim stared back at Cecilia for a moment, wondering if she was either subtly making fun of him, or giving false praise and platitudes. But the warmth in her dark eyes was sincere. And the truth was that he didn't think her capable of doing either. Somehow...some way...this lovely, decent woman saw good in him. And somehow...she helped him to believe in the good in himself. Just being with her made him want to be the kind of man Cecilia seemed to glimpse buried beneath the cynicism, the sarcasm and a lifetime of mistakes. He looked at her now, feeling something stir in his soul, and he squeezed her hand. He opened his mouth to give voice to the thoughts. And then Jim Brass remembered that all of this was borrowed time. One day...only a matter of weeks perhaps...Cecilia would be going back to her real life. And everyone knew...what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. So instead, he pursed his lips in a tight smile, withdrew his hand, and busied himself refilling their wine glasses.
Cecilia had thought that Jim was going to say something more, but the moment passed, and then he was pouring their wine. She wondered if she had embarassed him or been too presumptuous and made him uncomfortable.
Deftly, he turned the topic to her recent vacation to South Carolina and she shared with him the beauty of the resort town of Hilton Head Island, and her jaunt one day to nearby Savannah, Georgia. Cecilia had fallen in love with that city, taking a trolley tour of the historical squares, disembarking at various points to walk around, admiring the decorative ironwork, and imagining the ghosts of Civil War soldiers and southern debutantes in elaborate dress. As she spoke, Cecilia watched Jim relax again, and their earlier intimacy was recaptured.
When their waiter returned to inquire about dessert orders, Cecilia protested that she was far too full from her exceptional meal, and Jim had echoed her sentiments. Shortly afterwards, Cecilia watched the detective smile at something or someone over her shoulder, and begin to rise from his chair, as a masculine voice hailed him.
"Jim Brass!" The man was extending his arm, shaking Jim's hand enthusiastically. Cecilia looked up into the pleasant olive visage of a middle-aged man with curly, salt and pepper hair and dark eyes. He wore a black dinner jacket over a crisp white apron and white pants.
"Tony," Jim was grinning, clapping the other man on the shoulder before resuming his seat. "Cecilia, this is Tony Scrivo, an old friend, and owner and head chef of this fine establishment. Tony, this is Cecilia Laval."
Tony took Cecilia's hand and bent over it, touching his lips to the back of it. "Bella," he said galllantly. Then the man turned his attention back to the detective. "I'm sorry I couldn't greet you earlier, we've had a busy night, though it's getting late and the meal orders are tapering off. I was happy to hear you'd called the other night and reserved a table. It's been too long, my friend." Jim nodded his agreement. "You'll have to come to the house for a barbecue soon, and we can have some espresso and play a little bocce." Tony Scrivo nodded his head emphatically at his own suggestion. "I understand that neither of you are having any dessert," he continued, crooking a dark brow. "Our pastry and dessert chef is the best in the state!" he proclaimed proudly.
"Too full," Jim pronounced, patting his stomache. "Besides, I've got a department physical coming up. Don't want to compromise this physique." He winked up at the chef.
"Dinner was superb," Cecilia added her praise. "The sauce on the pasta dish was delicious."
"Thank you. Tell you what," Tony said, "I'll pack up a couple of desserts to go, compliments of the house. Enrique will bring them out before you leave."
"Thanks, Tony," Jim replied, knowing it would be pointless to argue.
"You have a beautiful place here," Cecilia was saying. "I've never seen anything like it. It makes for such a memorable dining experience."
Tony inclined his head, accepting the praise. "Thank you, Bella. A very talented architect, designer and artist brought this dream out of my head and made it real," he told her proudly. Then to Jim, "Good to see you again. Don't be a stranger." Then the chef was retreating back to his kitchen.
"I met Tony when he was a head chef at the Bellagio," Jim explained. "I was working a case not long after I first came to Vegas. One of the sous chefs poisoned another, a professional rivalry thing gone to the extreme. Guy pulled through, luckily. Tony and I just hit it off, and we stayed in touch afterwards. A few years ago, he and a partner opened this place. They've been doing really well. Tony is a great guy. He and his wife Maria have a little house in the hills."
Cecilia didn't want the evening to come to an end. She was surprised when she glanced at her watch and saw that it was already past one. Jim had already settled the cheque with his credit card, and the promised desserts sat in a white, ribbon-wrapped box at the edge of the table.
"I suppose we should get going," Jim suggested, noting that Cecilia had checked the time and thinking that she might be ready to leave. If it had been up to him, he could have sat there all night, listening to the sultry tones of her voice, learning more about her. His eyes tracing the claret curves of her full, sensuous lips, while he wondered what they would taste like beneath his.
"All right," Cecilia agreed.
Jim thought...hoped...that he detected a reluctance in her tone. Perhaps he'd misread her glance at her watch, and Cecilia wasn't quite ready for the evening to end either. He picked up the dessert box, then took her elbow with his other hand, and guided her out of the restaurant.
When Jim stopped at the car, and unlocked her door, holding it open for Cecilia, her body brushed against his. The heat was immediate and intense. He wanted to pull her against him, to slide his arms around her and crush her to his chest, and to press his lips on hers in the kiss that he had been thinking about since last Saturday night. But he had the box in one hand, and before he could think to set it on the hood, or even just drop it to the ground, Cecilia was already settling into the interior of the sedan. The blood pounded in Jim's ears and his arms ached with disappointment, as he went around to the driver's side.
The tension inside the car was palpable. Cecilia held her breath when Jim got into his seat, wondering if he would lean across and kiss her. She wanted nothing more, but couldn't think how to communicate that. She'd been on enough dates in her lifetime, had had enough relationships, both casual and meaningful, to know that the attraction was mutual. She knew that she had initiated romantic interludes in the past. And yet...when it came to Jim Brass, Cecilia felt like a virginal school girl, unsure and unititiated in the ways of men and women.
Jim was barely aware of the things they spoke about during the drive back to Cecilia's apartment. He knew he was participating, he could hear his own voice, and apparently he was making sense because Cecilia didn't seem aware that there was anything out of the ordinary. But his mind was churning, and the blood rushed through his veins, and all Jim could focus on was how close her body was to his in the close confines of the car.
When they were only a couple of blocks away from Cecilia's apartment, Jim finally marshalled his thoughts and mustered the courage to make his move. He made his living reading people, and if he was reading Cecilia Laval correctly, his interest in her was reciprocated. Jim knew that he couldn't go another night wondering whether or not she saw him as anything more than a nice guy.
"I think I've started to digest that dinner," he began, "and the idea of trying out that dessert with a cup of coffee seems appealing. Would you like to come back to my place and see what delights Tony put together for us? Maybe have a night cap?" Jim tried to sound nonchalant, as though it didn't really matter to him either way. But he held his breath as he awaited Cecilia's response.
"I'd like that very much," she replied huskily.
The detective's place turned out to be an expansive loft condominium, with high ceilings, hardwood floors throughout, and exposed brick walls. While the furniture and decor was minimal, there was nonetheless a warmth and a charm that Cecilia hadn't expected from a bachelor's apartment. Jim lead her first to the floor to ceiling window at the far end of the livingroom, where she could admire the sparkle and glow of the strip in the distance. Millions of bulbs lit up the night, the electricity supplied by nearby Hoover Dam. Cecilia wondered idly what it cost to keep the hotels and casinos in their mantle of neon glow.
"I'll put this in the kitchen," Jim told her. "I'll be back in a sec."
The sofa and loveseat were large, overstuffed pieces of dark chocolate leather. One wall held a cherry wood entertainment centre, with a large screen television, and a fairly elaborate stereo system. There was a five by seven photo on one shelf of Jim and a familiar looking figure, suited up in hockey gear. She picked it up and read the autograph to confirm.
"Wayne Gretzky was in town a couple years ago, with a group of NHL old-timer all-stars, doing a benefit game. They played a team from the department. It was a lot of fun, and even though we were terribly outclassed, we held our own," Jim reminisced. "They only beat us ten to three." He laughed. "Gretzky posed for photos afterwards, and then signed them. He was a nice guy, real down to earth."
"Well you just rub elbows with all of the rich and famous, don't you?" Cecilia smiled, teasing gently.
"Yeah. You hang around Las Vegas long enough, you're bound to," Jim smiled back. "So, would you like coffee or something stronger?" Jim found himself full of nervous energy, now that Cecilia was actually here and in his apartment. When she'd agreed to accompany him back to his place, it was all he could do not to let out a juvenile whoop of joy.
"Coffee, please," Cecilia requested.
"Have a seat," Jim suggested, then retreated to the kitchen.
Cecilia stood in the livingroom uncertainly for a few moments, then decided to follow him to what turned out to be a spacious kitchen. The area was neat and clean, the counters a grey-green granite beneath cherry cupboards. Jim looked over his shoulder at her with faint surprise, as he measured ground coffee into the filter. He had removed his tie, and unbuttoned the top couple of buttons of the linen shirt.
"I have no idea what's in there," he admitted, nodding to the box on the island opposite him. "Take a look."
Cecilia moved to the island, her back to Jim as she took the ends of the ribbon in each hand and gave a gentle tug. She felt him move behind her, as the bow came loose and the ribbon dropped away. He didn't say anything, but his fingers brushed the hair from the back of her neck, and then Cecilia felt Jim's lips on her skin. Her knees felt weak, and she gripped the edges of the counter for support, closing her eyes, biting back a groan as her head dipped. Then his hands were on her hips turning her gently towards him so that their torsos were pressed against one another.
Cecilia opened her eyes long enough to see the fire in Jim's, and then closed them again as his mouth descended to claim hers. His breath was hot against hers, his lips moving with masterful pressure. Cecilia slid her arms around him, her hands moving over the fabric on his back. He parted her lips with his tongue, his own seeking hers. Touching. Tasting. It circled hers, probing the cavern of her mouth. Cecilia pressed her body tighter against Jim's, her fingers kneading the flesh of his back. Their tongues parried and thrust in an ancient, primal dance, and Jim moaned against her mouth.
His hands travelled from Cecilia's waist, up the length of her ribcage, his thumbs reaching between their bodies to caress her through the thin material of her dress, eliciting a gasp of pleasure. When Jim's mouth left hers, Cecilia almost cried out her disappointment, but then his lips were brushing against the skin of her jawline, down across her throat, nibbling a trail that she was sure would leave a brand. His tongue found the soft hollow of her throat, dipping there, pressing against the throbbing of her pulse.
He bent his head lower, his kisses roving over the expanse of skin that swelled above the neckline of Cecilia's dress. Her hands travelled to the back of his head, her fingers parting his short hair, massaging Jim's scalp, while she dropped her own head to kiss the top of his. Then his mouth was on hers again, his breathing heavy, his hands roaming over her with an increased urgency. Her own hands explored his body, and Jim trembled as she felt his need.
"You are so beautiful," he spoke at last, murmuring against the corner of Cecilia's mouth. "I want you so much."
Cecilia arched her back, pushing her body even tighter against his. Her body ached and throbbed with her desire for him, every nerve on fire. "Yes," was all she could manage to say, in a barely audible whoosh of air, while she clung to him. Cecilia was only peripherally aware when he began to move her out of the kitchen. Jim had his arms wrapped solidly around her at her waist, and his lips never left hers, as he gradually shuffled out of the kitchen, and towards his bedroom. His thighs pushed against hers, and they inched across the apartment.
When Jim eased her onto the bed, Cecilia opened her eyes once more. His face was poised above hers. She began to fumble with the buttons of his shirt, and then he was helping her, shrugging out of it. In the moonlight that dappled through the bedroom window, Cecilia could see the dark hairs scattered across his chest. And something else...a scar, high on his left shoulder, where a bullet had pierced Jim's flesh all those years ago. Cecilia touched it hesitantly with her fingers, as though afraid that it still held the memory of long ago pain, then she kissed the silvered, puckered flesh.
Jim's hands were working with single-minded urgency, tugging at the zipper of Cecilia's dress. She wasn't even sure of the exact moment it happened, but soon they were both naked, on the cottony soft duvet of Jim Brass's king -sized bed. Cecilia's body rippled with gooseflesh, and she heard herself whimper with the intensity of her need. Jim was kissing, stroking and caressing her with such skill that she twisted beneath him with desperate longing.
Then he was hovering above Cecilia waiting, taking his direction from her. "Are you sure?" Cecilia couldn't have testified with any certainty afterwards whether Jim had actually spoken the words, or whether she had just read them in the questioning depths of his dark eyes. But her answer was to reach for him, and pull him towards her, as her body welcomed his.
Later, stretched beneath the covers, Jim held Cecilia in his arms and listened to her rhythmic breathing. Her long, raven hair tumbled across his pillow and fell softly against his chest. In the moonlight she looked so young, and peaceful, her smoky lashes sweeping across her bronzed cheeks. Her lips, as rich as the finest bordeaux, were slightly parted, and her breath was warm against him. She was all softness and womanly curves, and she smelled intoxicatingly feminine and exotic. There was a vulnerability to Cecilia in repose, that plucked at Jim's heartstrings.
She had been incredible. They had been great together, he acknowledged. Seeming to possess an innate sense of what the other wanted and needed. Cecilia was passionate and uninhibited and Jim knew that he had pleased her as much as she had pleased him. Having her curled against him now was the culmination of his desires. Being with her just felt so right.
So why then was there a heaviness in his chest? Why couldn't Jim just sleep, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking? The truth danced around the edges of his brain, and though he tried to banish it, not wanting anything to spoil the wonder of this night, he couldn't. The truth was that this wasn't just physical. Jim was falling for Cecilia Laval. And the heartache that he had guarded against for so long could only be right around the corner if he didn't separate the one from the other and realize that this was nothing more than an enjoyable fling.
Because what happened in Vegas, stayed in Vegas.