Chapter 14

Grissom lay on his bed in his room. His mind was on the brunette who was now at the other end of the motel. He didn't know she was packing to leave, he only knew that he was pushing her away again. And why? Because she had a past? He was never one to consider a woman's past. Hell, if that were the case, he certainly wouldn't have spent the night at Heather's. But the fact that Sara was involved with Detective Chris Cavaliere tore at him. He didn't like it when she was seeing that jerk, the paramedic guy—Hank. But now, he felt even more threatened. He knew Cavaliere would have more in common with Sara than Hank had. Grissom knew he was a better guy in general—no fiancés in the background that he could be double-timing Sara with. So, when he looked at it closer, he guessed he was taking her past involvements into consideration and it was eating him up. It was probably the probability that it might just not be a "past involvement" but might also be something that's going to continue.

He had been so damned smug the past few days. Once he got past the struggle and finally pushed himself over the edge into Sara's embrace, he had been arrogant enough to actually think that she would be completely captivated and so enraptured that she wouldn't be able to see past the edge of their bed. Not that he was convinced he excelled in the art of lovemaking—what he was convinced of was Sara's devotion and almost hero worship. Now he wasn't nearly so sure.

The fact that Sophia showed up at the most inopportune time threw him into a panic. The last thing he wanted was for the pushy blonde to know what he and Sara had been up to for a good portion of their time in this town. They would be reprimanded severely for using company time to . . . get to know each other much better. They most probably would even get suspended for several days without pay. He couldn't blame them, actually. It was what he would do if he found any of his crew in such a position. That's one reason you don't cross the line with fellow employees; the temptation to satisfy baser needs before completing your assignment is too high. But once he got a taste of Sara, once he crossed that invisible barrier, he couldn't stop. He couldn't go back. . .until Sophia barged in.

He didn't know what else to do, so he acted on pure instinct. He had to get Sophia out of there so he could protect Sara's character. He knew Sophia—he knew she was ruthless when it came to getting what she wanted, and for some God awful reason, she wanted "him" at this time. He didn't doubt that she'd do anything to take Sara down and get her out of her path, under the presumption that she could have easier access to Grissom if Sara were out of the picture.

So, he did the only thing he could think of—send the two women away so he could come up with a plan. The plan occurred to him when he saw some people leaving the motel and in no time at all he was in the office, paying for an extra room that he knew had become available. The fact that it was on the opposite side of the motel from his room wasn't coincidental. It actually cost him an extra two hundred dollars to get a family to move from that side into the room closer to his. With Sara on the other side of the motel, there was less of a likelihood that they would be spending their spare time together.

Everything would have been fine if he hadn't picked up her cell phone and listened to that idiot describing how he was looking forward to spending this weekend with Sara at his place again. He listened to Cavaliere go on and on about how Sara wasn't what she presented herself to be, that behind that dignified persona that she usually presented herself as, was a vixen who got down and played as dirty as anyone he's ever had at his place Saturday evenings. He went on to tell Grissom that everything was arranged, just as they had planned last weekend: the drinks, the food, the music and the lighting would be just right—perfect for the occasion. Oh, and if he happened to have the opportunity—tell Sara that he was going to get her back so bad that she'd be begging him for mercy by the time they'd be into their first hour of the game. Just what "play" and "games" Cavaliere was talking about—Grissom didn't want to know! The dirty bastard had no right boasting about his conquest with Sara! But then, he thought, if he could—he'd probably have shouted it from the rooftops that he had finally been intimate with Sara Sidle! How could he blame anyone else for falling for her, when he not only fell for her—he practically dove right in to the "love pool!"

So he got a little testy with Sara. He couldn't help it. It cut him like a knife knowing she had been intimate with Cavaliere and knowing that she planned on going there again in a matter of a few days. So he taunted her with Sophia's infatuation with him. It served her right! Let her feel a fraction of what he was going through when he imagined what kind of "games" she was planning to play with Cavaliere. No! He wouldn't go there! He would simply zone back out of this damned situation he had gotten himself into. He had done it before—plenty of times. Look at Heather—that was a huge mistake—he knew it even before he had left the following morning, even though he didn't let her see it. It was easy walking away from that situation. So, he should have no problem walking away from this one!

He turned over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. The image of Sara, bare of any clothes, straddling him and moaning with glorious ecstasy as she rode him, sent a jolt straight from his gut and into his backbone so sharply he felt as if he had been shot! Dammit! It wasn't going to be as easy as he thought! He needed some fresh air. He practically threw himself from the bed and strode across the room, throwing back the door just in time to see Sara closing the door to the truck and starting the ignition.

Son-of-a-bitch! He was next to the passenger's door in an instant and yanking it open and earning him the pleasure of hearing her yelp in surprise.

"What are you doing?" He asked sharply.

"Grissom! Jesus Christ! Don't do that!"

"I asked—what are you doing? I told you not to go back to Vegas. I still need you here."

"Do you?" She slammed the gear into reverse and revved the motor, indicating he should move away from the vehicle so she didn't strike him with the door as she backed away from the building. "It seems to me that you don't "need" me anymore. You've found yourself a blonde replacement. Now move! I'm leaving."

"You're not leaving!"

"Oh, yes I am," she said in a low, gravelly voice that demanded that he try to debate it. She didn't hesitate this time to let off the brakes and the truck started to move backwards, its door striking his shoulder and prompting him to jump onto the seat and yank the door closed behind him. "I said move! I didn't say to move into the damned truck!"

"Well now, you didn't specify, did you?" he said sarcastically as she slammed on the brakes again and stared at him. "What's the matter? Don't like your new roommate? Not as entertaining as your last one?"

They had stopped across the parking lot, in the darkness, but he could still see Sara's eyes grow huge as she stared at him and he realized she had taken his meaning completely wrong. He was talking about himself and Cavaliere.

"You son-of-a-bitch! I don't know what kind of kinky shit you and Sophia are into—but it damned well will not involve me! If you need another woman to appease her appetite and so you can get your jollies off with a threesome—go talk to Heather Kessler! I heard she's not opposed to maximum participation!"

"Heather?" he said stupidly. He didn't know Sara was even aware of Heather. "Don't bring Heather into this. And I wasn't talking about any such thing! I wasn't talking about Sophia at all. I was talking about "you" and . . ."

"Are you trying to tell me that you don't think she's just waiting for the opportunity to run to your bedside? Don't play me for a fool!"

"Of course I know. But this isn't about Sophia."

"Isn't it?" she asked as she stared out the front of the windshield, then nodded to the person making her way up the walkways until she stopped in front of Grissom's door. "It certainly looks like it is."

Together they watched as Sophia knocked on the door, then tried the knob. Grissom winced when he realized he hadn't had time to pull it completely closed before he saw Sara trying to leave. Sophia pushed the door open, then entered and turned to close the door behind her, clearly showing satisfaction upon her task.

"Hmph," Grissom shrugged as he watched the door close. "Imagine that."

Sara turned her glare onto Grissom, sat silent for a second or two as if she didn't know what to do, then started to growl at him. "Get out! Go back in there! I'm sure she can occupy your time until you wrap up the case!"

"I'm sure she can," Grissom looked back at her blankly. "But I'm not in there—am I? I'm out here in the Denali with you—so she's not going to be occupying my time—is she?"

Another growl, louder this time as Sara's frustration and anger nearly exploded and she reached across him and yanked on the door handle then tried to shove him out of the vehicle. In her rush to push him out, she forgot to put the truck into "park" or to simply stay on the brake and the Denali surged backwards, tossing both Sara and Grissom halfway out the door as they lost their balance. Grissom was the first to react as he wrapped his arms around Sara and watched them approaching the fence faster than he would like—and the fact that the top half of his body was hanging out of the vehicle didn't add to his comfort level. The crash stopped the truck with a bounce and before he realized it, he was lying on the ground, at least ten feet from where the truck stalled and Sara was lying between his legs.

"Ouch," she mumbled as she attempted to get up, then decided against it and lay back down with her head against his stomach.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he tried to sit up, but moaned when he felt the pain in his shoulder.

"That was a stupid thing to do," she answered without looking up at him. "Do you think Princess Sophia heard the bang?"

"I don't know!" He answered, not caring at that moment if the damned woman heard or not. "I asked if you were okay?"

"I think I hurt my knees. I'm afraid to check." She lifted herself on her elbows over him and looked at him. "Are you okay?"

"Of course. I'm used to crazy females throwing me out of a moving vehicle—then to double the impact, they jump out on top of me."

"I am not crazy! So if you're used to "this" happening with your other harem members. . ." She tried to get up, but winced again as she moved onto her knees while at the same time he tried to sit up but grunted with pain. Her eyes softened as she looked at him. "You're not okay. You're hurt."

"So are you," he answered quietly then turned them until they were lying face-to-face on their sides. "You're a total calamity, do you realize that?"

"Only when you do something stupid to instigate me," she said indignantly but sighed when she felt his fingers touch her neck as his thumb stroked her cheek. "Why are you doing this? You should be inside, lying on a warm mattress—not out here, lying on hard gravel."

He merely smiled back at her as he continued to watch her gorgeous eyes.

"Uh—excuse me," came a voice from several parking spots down. "Are you two alright? Should I call 911?"

"No," Grissom said with irritation. He hadn't noticed anyone else in the parking lot and was not pleased with their interruption. "We're fine. We've only had minor accident. We'll take care of it ourselves."

"Okay," the man stated then closed his window and turned back to what could only be described as a ghost-town hooker. She looked like she walked directly out of Flo's Diner with her gargantuan hair and low-cut blouse.

They looked back at one another and slowly moved to get to their feet, each aiding the other until they moved to the Denali and grabbed the key. They were both limping slightly but they stopped when they realized they didn't know where to go. Finally, they started walking toward Grissom's room but stopped before opening the door.

"Do you think we should just go in?" Sara asked doubtfully. "Who knows what she's doing in there—especially since she's expecting you to come to her at any moment."

"Maybe we should go back to your room. If she's here—we wont have to put up with her down there."

"I left my key in the room."

He let out a deep breath and turned toward the office. "I'll get a copy."

Within another five minutes they were both stepping over the doorway and into the lighted room that now contained only some photos that were still spread out on the small table, and Sophia's night bag that was opened on the end of the bed. Sara glanced inside and started to giggle.

"What's the matter, big guy?" She grabbed a hand full of tissues and reached into the bag to retrieve a purple replica of male genitalia. "Not quite good enough to satisfy her?"

"How in the hell would I know?" He was thoroughly embarrassed. "Put that away! It's personal!"

"She let it sitting out here or everyone to see—and evidently for "you" to use on her—how personal can it be?"

"If she planned on me using it on her—then why is it down here while she's up at my room?" He asked with a raised brow and picked up the bag, held it open beneath the angry-looking device and waited until she dropped it inside before closing it and tossing it onto the floor. "You've got a filthy mind."

She raised her head and looked at him indignantly. "You didn't seem to care about the state of my mind when we were. . ."

"Alright—point taken." He took her by the elbow and moved with her until she was sitting on the end of the bed, revealing jeans that showed signs of having been scuffed along the gravel at her knees. "Do you want to take them off and put an antibiotic on them?"

"I don't think I need antibiotic." She got to her feet and pushed her pants down over her hips, then sat down and allowed him to pull them off her legs. She grimaced as they came in contact with her knees.

"They look okay. Maybe an ice pack would help?"

"I'm fine. What about you? You seem to be favoring your right shoulder."

"It took the brunt of the hit when we landed. That and, well, my. . ."

This softened Sara's expression as she found the humor in the situation. "Your butt. Well, I could always check and see if it needed some antibiotic ointment spread on it."

He smiled back as he stooped between her injured knees. "How about your backside? Should I check it for injuries?"

"I didn't land on my back. I landed on my front."

"I can just as easily check that area." He told her as he reached for her thighs in an attempt to slide his hands up them and grasp onto her panties.

"What the hell's going on here?" Sophia's voice seethed as she pushed the door so hard it banged against the wall.