Scene Thirteen

Gil followed Heather's lead to the kitchen. The instant Hank saw Miss Lily he went running to greet his new friend.

"Well hi there big guy. Are you glad to see me, or do you just want another tasty treat?"

Hank whined; sitting before her with an air of eager anticipation in his posture.

Gil laughed. "Miss Lily please don't spoil him too much. He's never going to want to go home."

Heather glanced down at the dog. "I think it's already too late Gil."

"Oh no Hank; you will go home with Mom and Dad. My husband says if I bring home another dog he will file for divorce. We already have six."

Miss Lily smiled when Heather exclaimed, "Six?"

"Yes six; since we lost Kenny, my dogs are my babies." Before either Gil or Heather could reply she continued by addressing a staff member who was slicing lemon wedges at the counter. "Jill please show our guests to the dining room Dear."

Jill stopped her task at once and smiled at the couple. "Yes Miss Lily." She eyed Hank with mild concern. "Will he be upset when you leave?" She addressed Heather.

Heather chuckled. "First, he's Gil's dog. Gil was asleep when I brought him down earlier for his walk. Second…" Heather glanced at Hank. His unwavering attention was still on Miss Lily. "Somehow, I don't think he'll miss us at all."

Barely glancing up from the dog at her feet, the older woman waved dismissively.

Jill walked them out of the kitchen, down the hall, and through the wide double doors of the small dining room. She led them to a small table in a corner and waited quietly; smiling as Gil pulled Heather's chair out for her. Once he'd seated himself, she informed them, "Dinner is five courses starting with hors d'oeuvres, then clam chowder, followed by a green salad, an entrée of your choice, and finally dessert. The hors d'oeuvres and the dessert are always chef's choice, but Enrique takes great pleasure in surprising and delighting our guests. I guarantee it will be delicious. Each course is served with wine that is made right here in our own winery. I'll need to know if you prefer red or white."

Both Gil and Heather asked for red wine before she continued. "Your options for tonight's entrée are slow roasted prime rib or grilled red snapper. Each entrée comes with steamed veggies, boiled red potatoes, and a roll."

Gil glanced at Heather, silently signaling that she should order first.

"I'd like the grilled snapper please." She smiled.

Jill nodded and glanced in Gil's direction.

"The prime rib for me please."

"Very well, I'll be back right away with your hors d'oeuvres."

She left them then, and Heather surveyed first the table and then the room around them. Prior to their being seated the table was laid with fine ivory colored linen, polished silver, and chilled water glasses. The center piece was a shallow bowl shaped vase of red and pink roses. The room was beautiful without being opulent. The dimly lit wall lamps provided just the right amount of light; not so little that guests felt they were eating in the dark, and yet still dimmed enough to give the room a cozy romantic glow. The hardwood cedar floor was stained dark and polished. Potted plants and hanging ferns were placed around the outskirts of the room. The dark brown paisley patterned upholstery of the dining room chairs matched the draperies.

"It's a well put together room." She commented.

"It's nice." Gil agreed without taking his gaze from her face.

She smiled with laughing eyes. "How would you know? You've hardly taken your eyes off me since we left our room."

"That's because I didn't realize until I followed you out the door just how flattering that backless dress really is on you."

"Hmm… you really like it a lot then."

"I do. I like the woman in it even more, and so will every other man that comes through the door."

"Good." She smiled obviously pleased and he saw some unspoken thought flash in her eyes.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Oh just that I'm having a dress made." She shrugged as Jill returned and filled their water glasses before serving two glasses of wine and the hors d'oeuvres.

"I think the chef has outdone himself again." she said. "Tonight it's glazed figs topped with mascarpone and wrapped in prosciutto."

"Thank you." Heather replied eagerly. She waited until the young lady left and then helped herself to the first bite. Grissom watched as she covered her mouth with her fingertips and gave a low moan of pleasure. "Oh…. That's good; really good."

He sat motionless just watching her enjoy the bite.

She smiled. "Well here; have some for yourself, don't just sit and watch me eat." She picked up another and extended her arm across the table. "Bite." She ordered.

He complied and savored the taste for a moment while she finished off the morsel that was left of what she'd offered him.

"That is good." He agreed helping himself to another as he watched her lick a bit of blended cream cheese off her fingertips and then express her satisfaction with another quiet whimper that flooded his body with need.

"Tell me about this dress you mentioned. Is it the one for your birthday?" he asked, trying to distract himself from the sweet tension building inside.

"Yes but, how did you know that?"

While answering, Grissom nodded in silent greeting to the other couple having dinner tonight as they entered the room led by Jill. "Catherine mentioned it to me. She's guessing it's…" He thought a moment recalling her exact words "black elegant and stunning."

"Well, she got two out of three. Do you know them?" She asked referring to the couple he'd nodded to.

He lowered his voice to a more discreet pitch now that they were no longer alone; grateful that Jill had seen fit to seat them far enough away so as to afford both couples some privacy. "No, I don't but he's ogling you."

"Don't hit him." She smiled teasing. She knew very well that he wouldn't.

"I won't hit the guy. I plan to sit here and enjoy the fact that I'm with the woman he's staring at, but I can't speak for his companion. She may hit him."

In reply, Heather smiled slyly and raised an eyebrow, but never took her eyes off Gil, not even long enough to turn and gaze at the man whose attention he claimed she had.

This fact was not lost to Gil as he smiled and asked before taking another bite, "Catherine only guessed two out of three correctly… then it must not be black."

"Right, you are." She sipped wine.

"Well what color is it then?" He asked after pausing to swallow his food

She hummed. "Hmm umm," as she set her glass down. "I'm not telling. You wait and see."

His blue eyes twinkled. "Be that way then; you little tease!"

"You started it. You won't tell me where you're taking me."

"No I won't." he confirmed with a wink.

Over clam chowder and salad they continued their talk in the same light-hearted hushed way. Gil continued to watch her enjoy the meal. She sampled each course sparingly; leaving room for the next. With each course came a new glass of wine and she only sipped at those, no doubt keeping her blood sugar level in mind. He noticed that she barely touched her chowder before setting it aside.

"You don't like it? It's the best I've tasted."

"I agree with that. It's the best I've tasted, but I just don't care for chowder."

"Do you want something else?"

"No we haven't made it to the entrée yet. I'll have plenty. I'm sure it will be good."

"You said you met the chef earlier; before coming back to the room. Is that right?

"Yes, Enrique Alvarado is his name. Apparently he's quite accomplished, Miss Lily says she was lucky to hire him and from what I've tasted; I'd have to agree. I should have introduced you when we took Hank to the kitchen."

He sipped wine. "How long were you there in the kitchen the first time?"

She cocked her head to one side in thought. "About forty-five minutes; Miss Lily is quite the talker."

"She mentioned loosing someone?"

"Yes; Kenny, her son. It's been a long while. He died when he was eight; a swimming pool accident. She said the dogs were her babies now but I think her dogs are more like the grandchildren she never got to have."

"Hmm… so she and her husband had no other children then?"

"No Kenny was an only child and a while after his death her husband, Carl, tried to talk her into having another, but she refused. She said at that time she just couldn't consider it. She regrets that now."

He stared at her thoughtfully. "She didn't tell you she regrets that decision; did she?"

"Oh she told me; just not with words. She's easy to talk to. I found myself opening up to her a bit. She asked if I had any children, or if you did. I told her about Allison. When she asked about Allison's parents I told her that Zoë had passed on. She didn't ask for any details; just nodded and handed me the banana."

He considered her words. "She understands on a personal level, and offered food for comfort."

"Yes. She's a sweet gentle woman. I like her."

Jill suddenly appeared with their entrees, cleared unneeded items from the table, and refilled Heather's water glass; then left again as quietly as she'd come so as not to disturb them anymore than necessary. As with each course before, he watched her sample the first bite. Again, she mewed with pleasure, and when she opened her eyes he smiled and lowered his voice to a nearly inaudible whisper. "Will you stop making those noises please?"

She propped her chin on the heel of one palm, and leaned in close, smiling wickedly. "Why… are you having a hard time over there Mr. Grissom?" She asked flirtatiously.

He leaned in close as well, so that their mouths nearly touched over the small table. When they were little more than a breath apart, he whispered. "Yes I am, but you don't need me to tell you that. Behave please. Don't torment me in public."

"Behave… Where's the fun in that Birthday Boy?" She licked her lips and gave him a look that damn near made him get up and escort her back to their room right then and there.

He took a deep breath to steady his mind. "Heather…not that this isn't delectably fun; but dial it down a notch…please."

She lightly touched a fingertip to his bottom lip. "As you wish." She sat back in her seat, and changed the subject. "How's the prime rib?"

He took a bite and gave his head a small shake. "Absolutely dreadful." He lied; the light in his eyes giving him away.

She grinned and shook her head; not believing a word of it. "Gimme!" She demanded playfully.

He sliced into some of the meat and forked a bite of it; leaning forward to feed her as she had done earlier with the hors d'oeuvres. He watched her accept the bite of food, close her eyes, chew and lick her lips. Then she blotted her napkin across her lips and he was certain she was on the verge of another sweet moan of pleasure that might be his undoing when she opened her eyes and seemed to catch herself just in time. She pressed her lips tightly together for a moment until the urge had passed and then smiled at him.

"I like that. Do you want a bite of fish?"

"Yes, I can tell, and no thank you." He glanced at the other couple to be certain they weren't paying them any attention, Heather's gaze followed his and when he looked back in her direction he found her watching him with an expectant smile.

"So, tell me about your friend Cal."

Surprise flickered in her green gaze. "That's not what I was expecting."

"Two can play this game My Lady. You'll get what you're expecting…later. For now… talk!"

She liked his playing along; teasing her back. He could tell by the heated flash for desire that burned in her eyes.

"You promise?" she whispered.

"I do… now talk to me."

"Okay, what do you want to know?"

"Everything you'll tell me."

"Starting with…?"

"The beginning; when and where did you two meet?"

She paused in thought, "It was 19…90. Yes, that's right because Zoë was almost eight, and about to start the fourth grade. We met at Desert Palm Hospital."

When she paused for a bite of green beans and sautéed mushrooms he waited and then, when she could answer, he asked. "Why were you at the hospital?"

"Massage therapy for some of the patients."

He shook his head. "I'm confused. According to those newspaper clippings of your dad's you had a Master's degree in Behavioral Studies before the age of twenty-one."

"Yes I did, but I didn't look twenty-one. I looked sixteen, and I was a divorced single mother. That didn't go over well with potential employers. They were afraid to put their trust is someone who looked, as far as they could see, like an unreliable teenager who'd obviously made some very poor decisions. I did find one man who let me 'clerk' for him. Basically I was a glorified secretary. He taught me nothing that I didn't already know, and as I'm sure you can guess, I'm not cut out for the secretarial trade. Typing, filing, fetching coffee, and dealing with broken copier machines, may be easy enough, but when he asked me to pick up his dry cleaning or send his mother a birthday card I had to suppress the urge to dump his hot coffee in his lap. I did it for the better part of five years because…well because Zoë liked eating and having a roof over her head."

She grinned and took a bite of her grilled fish.

"One day there was some problem at his son's daycare…I don't remember exactly what the problem was, but he dropped Adam off in my office and told me to watch him; not asked, told. I walked him into his office and closed the door so his son wouldn't overhear what happened next. I remember being so angry that I was trembling. I asked him, 'So I look like, or even remotely resemble your wife in any way?' His reply was 'No, not at all. My wife knows how to follow orders, and keep her mouth shut while doing it.' Gil, it took every ounce of self-restraint I had not to break his nose…or worse. I figured I'd better quit before I got myself arrested for assault."

She paused for a sip of water, and he said, "I'm glad you did, but how did that get you to the hospital."

"Well I knew when I started the job that I couldn't do it forever. At the time though I was in a bind, and needed rent money. Zoë and I; we lived in run-down one bedroom apartment three blocks from the strip, but I really wanted to get her out of that neighborhood. Anyway… I had an elderly neighbor who'd baby sit Zoë for me for next to free. In return, I ran errands for her, did a little cooking and light cleaning. She had really awful arthritis in her shoulders and back, and I used to massage them for her. She'd tell me to go back to school and get a license to be one of those… 'Swedish massage people'. I'd laugh and ask 'when am I supposed to do this Abigail?' One night she had an answer. She said to go to night school and Zoë could sleep over at her place. She was convinced I'd make good money at it for two reasons. She said I had 'magic' hands and that men would line up around the block to have a 'sweet young thing' like me give them a massage. I wasn't entirely convinced she was right, but after even just six months of secretarial work, I was aching to throw in the towel. After more than three years of it, I figured it couldn't make matters worse. So that's what I did. I finished my courses three weeks before I quit my job and by then I already had my foot in the door at the hospital on evenings and weekends. I just wanted to be certain it was going to pan out. Two days before I quit, I met Cal. He was in the hospital recovering from surgery, and was suffering from depression. His daughter saw me in the hospital cafeteria one afternoon, and asked me to visit with him. I did visit with him; I gave him a foot massage and he barely said two words to me for an hour. I packed up to leave thinking it had not gone at all well, but before I left he gave me a hundred dollar tip. When I got home that night and told Abigail what happened, she shrugged and said 'See, I told you so.' I saw his daughter again a week later, and she didn't seem too happy about it, but informed me that her father wanted to see me again. I started going to see him three times a week, and when he was released a month later he asked me to come to his house for appointments."

Gil interrupted her story. "He must have been seriously ill or injured to have spent that much time there. What put him in the hospital?"

"I can't answer that one, sorry. If you want to know, you'll need to ask him directly."

"All that time in the hospital and you never asked him why?"

She smiled patiently, "Oh, I know why, but if I tell you; I'll be breaking a friend's confidence. I won't do it."

He smiled and placed his hand over hers on the tabletop. "And, I won't ask you to."

"Anyway, I was over at his house one day and opened the chest at the foot of his bed. I was searching for a misplaced blanket that he wanted. He told me it was in the hall linen closet, but it wasn't, I spotted the chest through the open doorway, and figured it might be in there so I decide to have a look. I opened the lid and got a bit of a surprise. I didn't find any blankets at all. What I did find, were collars, masks, chains and a whip; the usual accoutrements." She paused for a sip from her chilled glass of water, and smiled at him over the rim before returning to her story.

"However, at that point, those items were not yet commonplace in my life. I was more than a bit curious, and equally uncomfortable. I don't know how long I stood there staring into that chest. Long enough, though, that he came looking for me."

"That was an awkward moment to say the least. At first I couldn't make myself ask questions. He is such a quiet man. He would barely said ten word to me a week during massage sessions. I felt like if I asked him questions; I'd be invading his privacy. I did not want to do that, but one day a week later I couldn't stand my own curiosity any more. I asked him what all that stuff was for, and he just looked at me for a moment before he said…,

'Oh, I'm certain you have some idea already. You're not ignorant.'

For some reason I felt like he'd paid me a compliment of epic proportion. Until that moment, I had no idea what he thought of me… other than the fact that he liked the massages I gave him. I couldn't get a 'read' on Cal. the way I could with other people. He was the first man I've ever not been able to 'read' and it bothered me that I couldn't tell what he was thinking the way I always could with others."

"Over the next few weeks we talked about my accidental discover, a little at a time. He always waited for me to approach him. He never initiated a conversation about the topic or forced me to talk to him about it. When he felt I was ready, he laced me into my first corset, bought me my first whip, and gave me a loan to buy the house and start the business; interest free.

He told me he'd give me ten years to pay him back. I paid him back in four, and although I didn't know it when I handed him the check... He put the money in an account and didn't touch it. On Zoë's seventeenth birthday, he gave her a check big enough to cover her first year at Harvard. She received a similar check every birthday after that until she died. I told him that he didn't have to do it; that I'd pay her tuition myself. That's when he told me that it was my loan payment. That he never loaned anyone money if he truly expected to get it back; so as far as he was concerned, it was still 'my money."

Heather finished her stroll down memory lane just as Jill brought out desert and Gil decided to wait for her departure before commenting.

"Enrique is spoiling the guests tonight." Jill informed them. I have here his decadent double mint chocolate torte with fresh raspberries, and our best desert wine."

Heather smiled politely at her. "The wine is wonderful, but I'm afraid I've had my limit; might I have a cup of black coffee instead?"

"Yes Ma'am of course. Can I get you anything else?"

"Yes, just one desert please. The food was excellent as well, but I'm much too full. If I eat one of those by myself, I'll make myself sick. I'll just have a taste of his."

Jill beamed a bright smile. "No problem." She shifted her focus to Gil. "And, how about you, Sir?"

"Coffee for me as well, please."

"Cream or sugar?"

"No thank you."

I'll be back shortly." She announced after clearing their table of unneeded plates once more.

When she was gone again Gil turned his full attention back to Heather. "That's quite a tale. Based on your story, and what he wrote on the card with my gift; I'd say he cares a great deal about you."

"The feeling is mutual." She said warmly.

"He's a bit older than either of us isn't he?"

"He will be seventy-eight next month on the nineteenth."

"Oh wow! I didn't realize the age difference was that great." He chucked as he shook his head. "I was just about to ask if you two… never mind."

She gave him that 'You have no secrets from me' look. "You were just about to ask if we were ever lovers." She paused but thankfully not for too long. This was one of those instances that she seem to sense that teasing him about the fact that she read his thoughts so easily would not be kind.

"No, Cal and I were never lovers in the physical sense, but we are intimately close."

"I'd imagine you have to be… given the nature of what you've shared."

"Yes, and when you do meet him, if his family is present, don't be surprised if you pick up on thinly veiled hostility."

"Why is that?"

"As I said, he and are intimately close, and his children even his grandchildren, misinterpret that closeness. As you and most other people who live in or around Vegas know, Cal is a wealthy man. He also has a string of young ex-wives longer than my arm. "

"What does that have to do with his family's hostility toward you?"

"They, his daughter especially, see me as potentially 'wife number seven' and therefore feel I'm a threat to the size of their inheritance."

"Has anyone ever told them otherwise?"

They both paused a moment as Jill delivered their coffee and resumed their hushed talk as soon as she was out of hearing range; sipping coffee and leaving dessert, by unspoken agreement, until they were finished.

"I've known Cal for eighteen years. There's a reason he has six ex-wives Gil. He was… and still is… a lady's man, but that's not to say that he's disreputable with woman. Sadly, most people don't see a distinction between a lady's man and a womanizer these days, and that probably includes must, if not all, of his ex-wives. So when I first realized what his children thought of me I tried to set the record straight, because back then, I admit, their thinking I was after his fortune bothered me. But, they made up their own minds long ago, despite my assurances that they had the wrong idea, and furthermore I'm not the same person I was eighteen years ago. It doesn't bother me anymore. I couldn't care less if they think Cal and I are lovers. Truth be told, Cal is well aware of what people typically think of him with regard to woman, and he is just confident enough to enjoy the hell out of it. He's never told anyone that we are lovers, but he won't correct them if they assume otherwise without bothering to ask. He says, 'It's nobody's damn business who I share my bed with…unless she happens to actually be in my bed.' And I agree with him."

"You are both right. People will think whatever they choose to think. You shouldn't let that spoil a friendship."

"We don't let it. Since you asked, and since you will undoubtedly hear talk when you two meet; I just thought I'd let you know the score, lest you should have any concerns." She paused and watched him carefully for a moment.

When he offered her a content smile, she pointed to the dessert near his elbow and said, "I want my bite now."

Grinning; he sliced into the tort with the edge of his fork, and made certain to scoop up some of the raspberries as well. Yet again, he watched her reaction to the food play across her face. This time, instead of an audible response she pulled one corner of her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down upon it. This was a good sign; he knew. She took her time savoring what he also knew would be the only bite she would allow herself.

Confirming this, She licked her lips and declared, "Mmm… sinful! No more for me. I'm going to need a walk around the pond just to burn a fraction of the calories."

He savored one bite of the richly decadent dessert and then commented, "Well Hank will need a walk too before we can go back up to the room, so we can do both. After we get back to the room I'll need a moment or two to phone my mother I haven't checked my phone all day. It's a safe bet she's left me a message. If I don't call her today, vacation or not, there will be hell to pay."

"And, rightfully so. Not talking to Mom on your birthday is worse that forgetting to call on her birthday."

"Is that so?"

"It is, most definitely so."

"So you can occupy yourself for a few minutes upstairs while I put in a call?

"Of course I can." She gave him a wicked look and when she received his 'Grissom' stare in return, she laughed. "I need to phone Jerome anyway and check on Allison."

He extended his free hand as he dropped his napkin onto the table and rose to his feet. She placed her hand in the one he offered, and he heard another delicate moan of pleasure come from low in her throat when, after a second, he let go of her hand to place his gently against the exposed flesh at the small of her back.

In the quiet room, the soft sound caught the attention of the other man present and when the food on his fork missed his mouth and tumbled into his lap, Gil hissed into her ear "Heather…"