CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"I'm going to have to pretend to seduce Nazar," Paige said, before adding in a terrified whisper, "and Walter's going to have to let Zalina seduce him."

Cabe glanced over at Walter. "Sure you can handle that, son?" he asked. "Remember the last time you were supposed to let a woman seduce you? You got pistol whipped then had to jump out of a burning airplane."

"I-I've learned a lot since then," Walter said, grimacing at the reminder of how badly he'd 'handled' Sima or Fatima or whatever her name had been. "I-I can do this. We don't have another choice."

Across from him, Paige was biting her lip, an anxious expression clearly etched on her beautiful face. Closing the gap between them, he held out his hands which she took in hers. "I'll be okay," he reassured her. "The hardest part is going to be convincing Zalina I've changed my mind. She was, uh, rather upset with me the last time I turned her down."

"I don't even know which roadie is Nazar," Paige stated, giving his fingers a squeeze. "You'll have to point him out to me."

Walter grinned. "I can do that." He could see her worry begin to subside, replaced by a spark of desire in her hazel eyes. At least he hoped that was what it was, it had certainly been the case the previous evening.

A choking sound interrupted the sensual pull he was beginning to feel. "Just get done what you need to do," said the Homeland agent after they'd both turned to stare at him. "I gotta get back to work and I think you two have somewhere else you'd rather be."

"We'll be at the garage tomorrow," Paige said, letting go of Walter's hands, a faint pink glow on her cheeks. "Good night, Cabe."

"Uh, yeah, guess we'll see you then," added Walter, his own face feeling warm. He started to walk away, as did Paige.

"Hey, Walter, hold up," said Cabe before addressing Paige after they both stopped in their tracks, "It'll just be a moment."

"Okay, I'll wait by the exit." With a wobbly smile, she continued on her way.

"I see you've put yourself back in the picture." It was more of a statement than a question, but Walter still answered with a nod, his skin growing hotter. "That's great, and I'm happy for you, son, but. . ." the older man paused before continuing.

"This is serious, Walter. Finding out who's behind this needs to be your number one priority. If the Samatovans amass enough arms for their rebellion, it could make what happened in Baghdad look like a picnic. The more weapons that leave the country, the higher the death toll will be. I don't think you want more blood on your hands anymore than I do."

The agent really knew how to twist the knife. Walter hung his head, duly chastised. The progress of the case had become secondary in light of what was going on between him and Paige. Not only that, he'd gotten caught up in the work required of him as a roadie, and he knew Happy had as well, probably even more so than he. Roadies worked hard, then they played hard, and only slept when they found the time. It was a tumultuous way of life.

"I don't," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. He flicked his gaze upward to met his mentor's tired eyes. "No, you're right. We. . .I. . .I've been distracted. Not only by Paige," he admitted. "Well, mostly by her but. . . These people. . .they're starting to become more than just suspects."

"It's great your EQ has developed and you're making friends, " Cabe said, "but you need to set all that aside and focus." He opened his mouth to say more, but snapped it shut when the other security guard ambled back into the hallway.

"See you at the garage," Walter murmured before slipping away. Behind him, he heard the Homeland agent greet the other man as he spotted Paige lounging next to a row of glass doors. Her whole face lit up when she saw him, and the scolding he'd just received nearly flew from his mind.

"So what did Cabe want?" she asked as he opened the nearest door.

"For us to keep our heads in the game," he replied, deliberately not telling her the rest as they stepped outside.

"Easier said than done." Paige sighed wearily. "This rock 'n' roll lifestyle is crazy. The late nights, constantly on the move, the indiscriminate sex, the drugs. . . Makes me glad I never seriously pursued a professional singing career," she declared, "plus I wouldn't trade Ralph for anything in the world."

"Of course not," he agreed, coming to a halt. "You do have a beautiful voice, though. I love hearing you sing."

"Oh, you do?" She moved closer, close enough he was enveloped in her lavender scent. Her tongue darted out from between her lips as she delicately licked them and his knees buckled. "You okay?" she asked, no doubt picking up on his ragged breathing and pounding heart as well.

"No, I'm suffering from basorexia," he replied, the corner of his mouth curling.

"Baso. . .what?" Her confusion was evident. "What's that?

His grin grew even wider. "It's an overwhelming desire to kiss."

"Oh," she murmured, barely containing a smile, "it must be contagious, I think I have it, too."

Paige's fingers grazed the back of his neck before weaving their way into his hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands settling in the small of her back. He closed his eyes as they both leaned forward, her breath on his lips sending a shiver down his spine. Their mouths touched tentatively, then all the pent up desire he'd been suppressing all day surged forward, his tongue tangling with hers as his hands cupped her bottom, pulling her body tightly to his.

Judging by her enthusiastic response, Paige must have been experiencing the same frustration. He stumbled backward until he bumped into a solid surface. She pressed herself against him, gliding her foot up the back of his calf, her damp heat grinding against his hardness. Instinctively, he began to thrust, rolling them so her back was pressed up to the wall.

The blare of a car horn penetrated the lust-induced fog surrounding his brain, and he realized they were making out on a public sidewalk. Paige let out a little cry as he lifted his lips from hers.

"Oh, God," she murmured, her face flushing a light pink as she became aware of their surroundings. "Um, I have a room at the hotel," she began, her breathing still harsh, "or we could go to my place."

"Your place," he replied, gasping for air himself. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest, and he was glad his shirt was untucked. "Unless you don't want. . ."

"Oh, I definitely want." Her mouth curled into a smile. "It would be nice to sleep in my own bed again."

Walter had a feeling though, as they walked hand in hand to fetch his gear, they wouldn't be doing a lot of sleeping.

ooooo

Paige woke with a start, feeling a bit disoriented until she realized she wasn't in a hotel room but at home. In her own bed. With a naked curly haired genius sleeping beside her.

He was lying on his side, facing her. A faint grey light filtered through the slits in her curtains and she could clearly see his long dark lashes, his stubble covered cheeks, and his mouth. . . Oh, Lord, the things he'd done with it only a few hours before. She let her mind drift to their earlier lovemaking, the touch of his hands, his lips. . . The soreness between her thighs morphed into a different kind of ache, and she shifted restlessly.

"Hey." His sleep roughened voice snapped her out of her erotic musings, and she opened her eyes to gaze into his dark ones.

"Hey."

"What time is it?"

She glanced over her shoulder at her alarm. "5:10."

"AM or PM?" He rubbed his hand over his face and into his hair, scratching the top of his head.

"AM. Sorry if I woke you. . ."

"No, it's okay," he replied. "I was. . . Uh. . . I, um. . ."

He lowered his gaze, but not before she glimpsed the desire hidden under his uncertainty. Oh, God, he wanted to make love again, but he didn't know how ask her. At least he wasn't just poking her with it, hoping to get her attention. Biting her lip to keep from giggling, she placed her hand on his whiskery cheek, giving it a gentle caress.

"Yes."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Yes?"

She scooted toward him, feeling the heat radiating off of him in waves. And oh, yeah, he definitely had something ready to poke her with. "It's the answer to the question I think you want to ask."

"Oh." He seemed startled, no doubt surprised she'd figured out his dilemma. He may be a genius, but in some areas, she was miles ahead of him. Like about love, and sex, and. . . Oh, God. . . Panic seized her at the thought of Zalina getting her claws into a newly sexually aware Walter. It would be like letting a hungry wolf babysit a newborn lamb.

He didn't even have the confidence to initiate intimacy with her, how was he going to fend off the blonde Russian bitch? And what if he got curious? She was the only woman he'd been with, what if he wanted to know how it would be with someone else? He said he loved her. . . But then Drew had told her that, too, yet that hadn't stopped him from screwing other women.

Men were different than women when it came to sex, and Walter was different than other men when it came to. . .well, just about everything. He might view sex as one big science experiment or else. . . He truly loved her, and only her, in every sense of the word.

"What's wrong?" His question cut through her worrisome thoughts, and she realized she was nearly hyperventilating.

"Nothing," she lied, calming herself by gazing into his eyes, which were full of concern.

"If you've changed your mind," he said, his voice tinged with disappointment, "I, um, I can. . ." His words dwindled as she pressed herself against him.

"You can love me," she whispered into his ear before giving it a little nip. She would fret about him and Zalina later. Much later. Right now, she had more important things to take care of.

"I-I can. . .I can d-do that," he murmured, slipping his hands around her waist.

Paige rolled Walter onto his back then began sliding down his body, leaving a trail of kisses in her wake. Flicking one of his nipples with her tongue, she smiled with satisfaction as he groaned, bucking up off the bed. He wasn't the only one who could do mind-shattering things with his mouth.

ooooo

"Well, look who's here," Toby announced as Walter and Paige strolled into the garage a little after one in the afternoon later that day. The shrink was leaning back in his chair, feet up on his desk, idly twirling a pen, almost like he'd been waiting all day for their arrival. "Miss Rock Star and her groupie."

"I'm hardly a rock star," said Paige as she plopped her bag onto her desk. "Back-up singer #3 is not the glamorous position you'd think it would be."

"Yes, but you didn't deny Walter was your groupie." The psychiatrist slid his feet to the floor and stood up, a grin threatening to split his face.

"I'm not a groupie," Walter grumbled, glancing at Paige when she made a choking sound, like she was trying not to laugh.

"You sleep with a band member, you're a groupie," Toby declared impudently.

"Wait. . ." Paige's face turned pink and she looked from man to man, clearly confused. "How did. . ."

"Dammit, Toby." The genius took a menacing step toward the other man. "That's exactly what Happy said. She told you?"

"No, I haven't spoken with Ms Quinn since you guys left for Phoenix." The shrink scanned around the garage. "Where is she anyway? Didn't she come back with you?"

"No," Walter replied tersely, tightly gripping the handle of his duffel.

"Then where is she?" The other man moved a step closer.

Walter's eyes darted everywhere but Toby's face. "I-I have no. . .no idea."

"You suck at lying, O'Brien." The psychiatrist swung around to face Paige. "Do you know where she's at?"

"No." The liaison placed her hands on her hips. "I haven't seen her for about two days, not since the morning she. . .uh. . ." Caught them in bed together, Walter silently finished her sentence.

"Not since the morning she. . .what?"

"I can't remember," Paige said in a rush.

"Uh huh. I hope you two are better at playing hide the salami than you are at lying. Because you both suck at that."

Paige's blush grew even darker and the heat he was experiencing intensified.

"Dammit, Toby, she's a big girl, and she wants to be alone," Walter grudgingly revealed. "She doesn't need you hounding her day and night. She has enough. . ." He was going to say the mechanic had enough problems at the moment, which she did. But the main cause of her problems didn't need to know that.

"She has enough what?" Toby glared at both of them, then spun around and kicked his desk. "Oh, my hallux," he groaned as he hopped back around on his good foot. "Fine, I don't need you two to tell me where she is. I'm a genius, I'll figure it out on my own."

He limped back over to his desk, grabbed his cell, and started jabbing in numbers. Walter looked over at Paige and shrugged.

"Where's Sly?" she asked the shrink, who was muttering "voice mail, fucking voice mail" under his breath. He tossed his phone back onto his desktop.

"Ha, maybe I won't tell you unless you tell me where Happy is."

"I'm 100% positive Sylvester is at the Warlock's Chest with his role playing pals like he is every Tuesday afternoon we don't have a case," declared Walter smugly.

"Shit." Toby shook a finger at Walter. "Okay, she doesn't want to talk to me and she wants to be left alone. Where would she go that she'd think I wouldn't find her?" Narrowing his eyes, he focused on the top of his desk, mumbling 'nope' over and over again as he was apparently thinking of, then dismissing possibilities.

"Aha! It's so obvious," he cried out after a few minutes. The psychiatrist smacked himself on the forehead, nearly knocking off his hat, which he quickly adjusted. "Smell you later, losers."

Walter watched as Toby practically ran out of the garage before glancing over at Paige.

"Not good," she said at the same time he did.