Anticipation; that's what he was experiencing! It had been pervasively part of his whole being most of the day but he hadn't been able to put his finger on it until just now. As the elevator doors opened, and he automatically started fumbling at his keys with the one free hand, hampered by the weight of the bags in his arms, he laughed a private little 'Heh' at himself over how nice it felt.
Ordinarily not one to whistle a happy tune either, Horatio Caine couldn't help it as he unlocked the door, shoved it open with his shoulder and swung it shut with his foot. Hm, good, the place didn't smell. Sometimes he worried that, living alone, seldom having time or inclination to houseclean, his place might have acquired an odor he was ordinarily unaware of. 'Hmph, fine time to think of that,' a small voice warned. Considering he'd never had any complaints in the past, he passingly wondered why he even thought of it now. Does this one mean more? Or is it that she, being a higher caliber, that is, intelligence and independence to spare, is more likely to pass judgement than many of his previous guests? 'Hmm.'
He removed the marked styrofoam boxes from the bags and placed them in his refrigerator, reading the directions on each to make sure he had some idea of what was to be nuked when and for how long, stacking in order of cooking times, salads on top, since they would be served first. Wishing another silent thank you to Chef Antony, from one of Miami's newest restaurants, "M," not only for assembling the meal to go, but for clear, concise directions on preparations, he pulled out the bottle of wine that had been sent as the perfect accompaniment and put it on the counter.
Disposing of the bags, he checked the time. For once, he'd been able to get out of the lab early and saw he had time plenty of time to enjoy making preparations. Pulling out the green damask table cloth, he threw it over the small table he'd already set up the night before, in the 'dining area' just outside the kitchen, spending some time checking to see it hung evenly. He next searched slightly deeper into the cupboard for the deep blue linen napkins, which complimented the forest green perfectly, and tossed them onto the table. He got out flatware with the gold, quietly simple design, dishes, gold rimmed wine glasses, smaller goblets for water, candles, holders, putting them on the table so he could spend the time before she arrived, setting the stage just so.
Taking another look at the dishes he paused, picking up one of the plates. The early evening light from outside, coming through the east facing, glass wall, hitting the warm, skin color of the dishes, brought up the memory of how she'd looked in a candle's glow. He remembered because, at the time, the position his hip against hers had brought a comparison to mind of the differences in skin shades. Strange thought, considering he was having sex with her at the time, then but that's what had happened. He and she were both on their sides, he was behind her, up on his elbow, looking down at their two bodies, and immensely enjoying the view. He remembered being very much physically aware of what he was doing and yet separated from it all, seeing his pale pink hip against her warmer pink one, fascinated by the delightful way awoman's flesh could bounce. Now the odd part to the memory was, there was nothing muchleft of the physical sensation and a perfect picture of the visual--holding her, her responses to his caresses--but he had no idea what her breast had felt like in his hand, and no memory of that final culmination. Today the only thing left was just recollection of the color of her skin, as compared to his, and that enchanting sight of the jiggling quivers as his solid hip repeatedly collided with her soft one.
The clinical side of his mind tagged the thought for later examination. Any clue to the workings of the human mind might be useful on the job someday. He set the dish down, checked the table again, and went into the bedroom.
As a final touch to his grooming for the evening, he chose the cologne she had declared had attracted her to him in the first place. Not his most expensive, but a Lanvin he occasionally wore at work. He'd worn itwhen he'd taken her out on a casual afternoon date a few weeks ago. Helping her on with a wrap, she had turned and looked at him sharply, a quizzical smile on her face, and inquired as to the name of his aftershave. Telling her the name, she asked if he'd mind her taking a closer sniff; he'd expected her to lean in and breathe but instead, she'd practically leaped on him,buried her nose completely into his neck, and inhaled deeply, letting out a cosmically ecstatic sigh as she stood back. She had first detected it in the hospital, she'd said, while reporting to him on the condition of a suspect who had been shot, and had been so enthralled by the scent, she knew she wanted to get to know him better. "I don't know what it is about that stuff," she'd confessed, "but I just think it's wonderful." Asking if she could sample it again he happily obliged, savoring a variety of sensual sensations, as she hugged herself close to him, indulging herself. If not for the fact that it was only their second date, he might have suggested they stay in for the day and seen where this could have gone.
Patting the scent onto his neck and chest, his hand wandered further down. He'd discovered, on his last date with her, that she was very free with her enjoyment of the human body and he wondered if she would similarly appreciate the scent applied to a place other than his neck. At the thought of her nose being down there, a part of his nether region stirred slightly. 'Down boy, it might not even come to that tonight, you know. It's just a dinner.' 'Yes, but she might not be too tired after all. A touch couldn't hurt.' Almost on it's own, his hand, damp with cologne, swiped lightly across his pubic hairs causing a deeper rumble. 'Maybe, maybe not, just not now! Quit.' He finished dressing and combed hishair.
Wearing light gray, coarse linen slacks, wine colored loafers, and a light blue-green polo shirt which, he knew complimented his ocean colored eyes, he went out to finish setting the table. Turning on the overhead spot to bright so he could see, he carefully set the stage for dinner withhis lady.
Last night, on the phone, she'd said, "Dinner at your place sounds great! I never eat what they serve on the planes and I'll be just too tired to make anything myself when I get there." No, she didn't want him to try to pick her up at the airport, no not at her place either since she lived just five minutes down the beach from his place. She'd enjoy the walk and she'd call just before she started out.
Being a thoracic surgeon, she said, gave her certain license to be slightly eccentric and hers was shown in her hatred of the cell lifestyle,as she'd called it. The idea that she might call when her plane took off, when it landed, when she was leaving the airport, and when she arrived home, to her, was repugnantly absurd. She was telling him now what the plans were and was going to give him warning as to her arrival only as a courtesy, only so he could do whatever last second preparation the food might require, but communicate beyond that? No. Sorry, she couldn't do that and she hoped he understood.
He understood that most professions drove most people to a variety of madnesses, that the more skilled and demanding the profession the more peculiar the madness, some more difficult to take than others, so her avoidance of the use of a modern convenience didn't worry him.
Finishing with arranging the table, getting the lighter ready for the candles, he turned on the CD player, volume low, with a full range of old time to modern cool jazz, dimmed the light over the table, turned on a few lights in the kitchen, for convenience but not enough to interfere with the atmosphere of the dining area, and sat down at the table to relax and to admire his work.
Her conference, she'd said, had gone well so far, but her second lecture was scheduled for next to last so there was no getting around staying. She'd predicted she'd be flying out of O'Hare by mid afternoon and arriving in time to enjoy the dinner he'd offered, and thank you very much.
They never had much time with each other because his work in the crime lab and hers at the hospital, were equally time consuming and erratic causing constant havoc with their plans. Their first two dates had been aborteddue toemergency surgery; she was on duty in theEmergency Room on weekends, and between gang activities and tourist mishaps had even beenbeeped twicewhile calling itoff thefirst time. The third date ended early because he got a call out. The time they did spend together had certainly been good though. She was beautiful, intelligent, had a marvelous sense of humor, was innocently affectionate, as she'd shown in her cologne smelling trick, and, as he'd discovered just last week, sweetly, satisfyingly sexy. He thought there might be a real connection to be made with her and looked forward to exploring the possibilities.
Only when he looked up to check the clock did he notice it was now so dark he had to go turn on the desk lamp to see the clock. Surprised it was half an hour after the time she should have called he wondered if he should call her, then thought better of it. He wentout onto his balcony and peered over the railing to the beach walk below. Under the lights, the pedestrian beach avenue was busy with people, but there was no lone woman headed his way. Excuses such as, 'her plane was probably late,' or 'maybe she decided to take a nap,' ran through his mind. 'Call!' 'No! She hates calls. She gets enough of the phone at work.' 'Call!' Damn! What might have happened?
Whether he jumped in relief or surprise, at sound of the phone going off, is hard to say. "Eva!" "No, just sitting around. You coming over?" "Ah, I see." "Yeah. Well, no, it's hard. I–I sure." "No, no problem. I understand." "Later then."
She was still in Chicago, flight was delayed, forgotten the time difference, forgot to call, hoped he wasn't angry. He heard music and loud conversation in the background. She had surgery in the morning, would call another time.
Taking a salad from the refrigerator out onto the patio his gaze turned pensively to the table inside, set just so, perfectly lit.