CHAPTER EIGHT

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. . .

Juliet and Lincoln spent part of the afternoon looking at Phyllis Napoli's friends and associates, but they had to break early; they were set up for a stakeout on a drug case for the evening and Vick had told them to take a few hours off prior.

From the ladies' room, she called Lassiter and told him how she was spending her night. They hadn't talked much on the way to the station, and the stakeout had been far from her overheated mind. He said, and there was the slightest, slightest tinge of relief in his voice, that work had to come first sometimes and he had plenty of reading to do for his classes.

He was afraid, she realized. Just like she was. Not of being together, but of what it could mean or not mean. Damn her for pushing, she thought, angry at herself as she left the restroom and headed back to her desk.

Shawn and Gus planted themselves in her path. "What, still no cases for us?"

"Forget to pay the cable bill again?" she shot back.

Gus was indignant. "No, he did not. He's just bored because he hasn't gotten to make a public spectacle of himself for a few days."

"Gus, don't be a… hell, I don't know. Just don't be one."

"Talk to the Chief. I told you before. Lincoln and I don't need you on anything right now, and we're busy with other cases."

"What's going on with the Civil War case you hired us for?"

Juliet shook her head. "You weren't hired, Shawn, and we don't need you." It crossed her mind that they might be able to use him to figure out the identity of Mrs. Napoli's boyfriend, but what crossed her mind even faster was that she didn't want him cutting into her case time with Lassiter. She liked Lassiter relaxed. Shawn dancing around would only bring back The Cranky full force.

Plus she was certain it wasn't a good idea for Shawn to be around them right now, period. He wasn't going to think they were still 'fighting,' that was for sure.

"What are you thinking?" Shawn asked with wonder. "I've never seen so many expressions flit across one face in fifteen seconds before."

Gus intervened. "Leave her alone, Shawn. She's obviously busy and I don't want to wear out our welcome. Let's go talk to the Chief."

Juliet muttered her thanks and turned away, and Gus dragged Shawn off over his protests.

Lincoln stopped at her desk for a moment. "Meet you back here at seven? I lined up the cruiser."

"Yeah, sure. I'll be here."

He paused. "Your old partner… he's sure not what I expected."

Juliet looked up, curious. "What did you expect?"

"Well, you know. He has a reputation for being kind of… a…" He floundered. "A hardass. McNab talks about him like he's half-god, half-monster. But he seems pretty laid-back, if you ask me. I can tell he's got an edge, but he didn't strike me as the type to fly off the handle."

She smiled, considering. "Lassiter's reputation for being close to anger most of the time isn't that far off. The job was really hard on him. He's a lot calmer now."

"Does he really have eight guns?"

"Not any more. He gave them up when he quit… I mean, started his leave."

Lincoln was looking at her speculatively. "It's none of my business, but you two seem pretty tight. If you know what I mean."

She tensed. "If you're asking me whether we had a personal relationship beyond being partners, the answer is no. And I don't mean to be rude, but it's also none of your business."

"No, I understand. I just thought—" He stopped, uncertain.

She chose her words carefully. "Not being partners anymore turned out to have an up side. That's all I'll say." She gave him a small smile, and as an afterthought, added, "Listen, I'm your partner now and we have to be able to trust each other. If you're not comfortable with him helping on this case, just say so and I'll take care of it. I don't want you feeling any kind of pressure from me about him."

Lincoln immediately said, "It's okay. I know he's a good cop and I don't mind an extra hand. He's kind of a legend anyway, and how often does a guy get to work with a legend?"

. . . .

. . .

Wednesday morning, Juliet walked into the station in a bit of a daze. The stakeout had gone on past two a.m. and netted nothing, and when she finally got to bed she dreamed intensely wicked things about Lassiter which left her in quite a state.

No other man had ever affected her this way. She ached to see him and didn't understand why these feelings were so strong. Her attraction to him over the past few years had abided without the full-out craving she felt now, hadn't it?

Maybe it was as simple as not being able to unsee the seen. Maybe knowing the door was open on his side by way of his declaration of love five weeks ago was all it took?

And it sure didn't hurt that he was an A+ kisser.

Still, she wasn't much good at her job, and even pouring her first cup of coffee without spilling it was challenging. Lincoln looked a bit bleary too but he probably wasn't obsessed with a tall blue-eyed man like she was.

The tall blue-eyed man texted her as she was settling in at her desk. How was your stakeout?

Boring and unproductive. How was your reading?

Lassiter: Not boring, not unproductive, but in no way as good as an evening with you.

Juliet sighed. I dreamed about you.

Lassiter: You don't want to know what I did about you.

She laughed. I might want to know, but not in a text.

Lassiter: I'll whisper it in your ear sometime.

Please do. When can I see you?

Lassiter: Lunch. How about in a church? Think we could keep our hands off each other in church?

Laughing again and hoping not to be noticed by her coworkers, she suggested they meet at a cafe with outdoor tables near the police station. It would be about the same level of 'public' as in a church, only with better food. He agreed, and they set the time.

She and Lincoln were continuing with the project of discovering the identity of Mrs. Napoli's lover. They could just ask her, but she'd made it plain at her home that she didn't intend to reveal it on her own. Juliet wanted to go ask her anyway and tell her they suspected her lover of murdering her husband, but as long as there was even the slightest chance she was in on it—or would warn him so he could flee—it was better for them to work behind the scenes for a while.

But they also had other cases, and Juliet went on not being very good at any of them this morning until even Lincoln asked her if she just needed to go home and sleep. As it happened, Vick was in earshot, and swung around to stop at Juliet's desk. "You do look pretty out of it, O'Hara. Do you need to take some personal time?"

"I'd rather not; there's too much work to do."

"There'll be too much work to do whether or not you take any time. Go home and sleep." Her tone was kind. "Don't make me say it again. If you feel better later this afternoon, you can come back."

"I have a lunch date," Juliet said very quietly, so no one else could hear.

Vick smiled knowingly. "Anyone I know?"

Juliet stared at her, feeling too silly to say his name out loud.

Vick's eyebrows went up. "Interesting. Well, you can sleep after lunch."

Instantly her thoughts went to sleeping with Lassiter after lunch, minus the sleeping part, and her color felt high as she mumbled her thanks to the vastly amused chief.

On her way out of the station to meet him, she thought about calling him to suggest they skip lunch and just make love all afternoon, but she remembered he had two classes and oh yeah she was supposed to have some self-control, whatever the hell that was.

So she settled for sitting across from him at a table under a green and white umbrella. He looked wonderful, reasonably rested, and glad to be with her. She ached to touch him.

He cleared his throat. "You're beautiful, but never mind. How's the Napoli case?"

She couldn't help but blush. "Thank you, and we're still looking at her friends and associates, but I was thinking we should do what you said and concentrate on the neighbors. I want to go knock on some doors tomorrow."

"You're not going to believe this, but I've been thinking you might want to get Spencer in on it."

"Wow, I never thought I'd hear you suggest hiring Shawn."

"Me either. But he does have people-reading skills, and he might figure it out quicker than we can. I mean, than you can."

"You're a cop forever," she said lightly. "How are your classes going?"

"Interesting. The reading is abundant but I like it, when I can concentrate on it instead of daydreaming about you." Before she could respond, he continued, "Oh, and I got hit on this morning. It's been awhile, so I didn't get it at first."

"Let me guess. Sweet young collegiate, short skirt—no wait," she said as she remembered something, "it was a six-foot-tall muscled blonde who can kick your ass, and mine, and eats crowbars and short people for lunch."

Lassiter stared and then laughed. "What in the hell?"

She felt sheepish. "Sorry. I guess I forgot how annoyed I was when you were going after the Chief's sister."

He was still laughing, and she knew he had no idea how attractive he was when was like this. "Are you serious? You even cared that I wanted to date her?"

"Of course I cared! Well, I mean yes I was freaked that you would consider getting involved with our boss's sister given how they fight, but I also couldn't believe she was your type. That woman could have bent McNab like a pretzel!"

"But O'Hara… don't you see? It made perfect sense. If I could 'tame' a woman like that, it would have completely fulfilled the fantasy of being powerful and in charge and on top of every situation."

She sat back, looking at him suspiciously, a faint tendril of jealousy in her gut. "And did you 'tame' her?"

He shook his head, grinning. "She scared the hell out of me just ordering lunch. When we had dinner I nearly passed out. No. She was not for me."

"Good," she said with satisfaction. "So who hit on you this morning and should I be worried?" She picked up her iced tea and prepared for another tendril of jealousy.

"A soccer dad. Real ego booster."

She nearly spit out the tea, and Lassiter enjoyed her discomfiture. "Well, at least he had good taste."

"Damn straight. No pun intended. Listen, you need to understand how much of my behavior these past years came from my fear of failure." He tapped the table with his fork, thinking. "Okay, here's a particularly pathetic example. Remember the Christmas you invited me over to meet your family?"

"Yeah," she said reluctantly.

"Yeah, you remember. I was an ass. I alienated them and traumatized your nephews."

"Carlton…"

"Come on, I did. I was so entranced at being part of a… family, even for a little while, but I forgot not to be a competitive jerk. After I scarred the boys for life with that Wii game, and realized I was alone in the room, I got what I'd done." He sighed. "I decided to just get my jacket and go. But I overheard you in the kitchen with your mother or your aunt or someone, and she said I was creepy and mean, and I knew she was right." His blue eyes seemed a little more intense.

Juliet felt terrible. "That was my aunt. She can be a little creepy and mean herself."

"I doubt it, if she's related to you. The point is, you asked her to keep her voice down, but you didn't defend me. Please—" he forestalled her objection, "I'm not saying you should have. It would have been a lie for you to defend me, but you're such a damn nice person you might have done it anyway. I got my coat and told one of the boys I was leaving, and the next day at the station I gave you that complete steaming crock of crap that you were jealous about not being the cool aunt so you'd feel better about the fact that no one in your family wanted me anywhere near them. I didn't want you to think of me as any more pathetic than I was. I figured if you thought I was just a jerk, I wouldn't have failed again as utterly and completely as I actually had. I could still have 'won' that way." He let out a breath. "You can't know how much I don't want to be like that ever again."

"Carlton," she began, and her heart was aching. "You're so much better than you think you are."

He smiled gently. "No, Juliet, I'm not. But maybe one day I can be. I know the past five weeks haven't been anything like typical for what's ahead. Starting classes, spending time on this Napoli business, making out with you every five minutes, not to mention three of those weeks traveling on the other side of the country. But I know—I know—leaving the job was the best thing for me. At least for now."

"I believe you." She did, more than ever. And not just because she was enthralled with making out with him every five minutes. "I hope I'm not making it harder."

Lassiter's expression was one of wonder. "Harder? No. Confusing and crazy and exhilarating? Yes. Would I change it? Not in a million damn years." He leaned across the table and squeezed her hand. "And I won't hold you to any of it, you know that."

"I know, but it's not like you're going to have to hold me to anything," she said softly.

He sat back in his chair, smiling, but she still felt his hand on hers. "Since you asked me about Barbara… let me ask you about Spencer."

Juliet blinked. "What about him?"

"Lot of flirting going on there. Mostly on his side, but sometimes yours. I thought you were… into him."

She wanted to be exceptionally honest with him. He could have no doubts. "Shawn is very persistent and persuasive. I know you don't see it, but he can also be very sweet and giving."

"It's not just me who can't see it," he said dryly, "but it must be true or else Guster wouldn't still be around."

"Right. But he's… I need an adult. And Shawn's not an adult. I'm not sure he'll ever be an adult. I see potential in him—a lot of potential—but there are aspects to his character which I can't tolerate. It's like…" She thought about it, and smiled. "He'd be a fun boyfriend but he wouldn't make a serious, long-term boyfriend. He's not someone you could make plans with, or make an adult's life with. Remember when I was dating Cameron Luntz?"

Lassiter half-smirked. "Oh, yeah."

"He reminded me of you."

He blinked. "In a good way or a bad way?"

"Good," she assured him, "except that he was too sure of himself. He was too much in command, all the time. There was no trace of vulnerability to him, but there is in you. I can see it. You let me see it." His voice in her memory… I didn't give you my heart; I only showed you I have one. But she'd already known.

For a few moments they only looked at each other. Then he smiled, and his blue eyes encompassed the sky overhead. "I could trust you with anything," he said simply.

"Back at you, Carlton. One hundred percent."

Shawn deposited himself in one of the empty chairs at the table. "So."

Juliet felt as if cold water had been dumped on her, and Lassiter's relaxation evaporated.

Gus stood between Shawn and Lassiter, and she wondered if that was for Shawn's protection. "Hello. We're not staying."

"So," Shawn repeated. "I guess I read that wrong."

"What, Spencer?"

"When were you going to tell me?" He asked this of Juliet, but stared at Lassiter, who stared back impassively.

"Shawn, we should leave."

"Tell you what?" she asked, keeping her tone neutral.

"Shawn, what have I told you about begging for cases?" Gus implored.

"That! That, Jules! You're letting Lassie help on the Civil French Indian War history murder guy thing, and we're being shut out?"

Gus walked off a few steps, shaking his head.

"He's not helping, Shawn. He's a cop. He's doing what he was trained to do."

"So? We're paid consultants! This is our specialty! He's on leave—you need to be calling on us, not him! Wait. Did you just say he wasn't helping? Like, he's hindering? Because that makes me feel better."

"Neither my intention," she assured him, "nor my meaning."

"I volunteered, if that makes a difference," Lassiter said noncommittally.

"As a matter of fact, it makes no difference at all. We volunteer all the time and that doesn't mean we get hired."

"Which is usually when you barge in anyway and disrupt the investigation."

"And solve the crime, Lassie. We solve the crime." Shawn was seriously irritated. "What have you done?"

Lassiter stared at him. "The work."

Oooh, Juliet thought, and he was right, too. Shawn came in and did his thing but it was everyone else who had to clean up the messes, keep everything legal, and file the paperwork. "Shawn, Carlton is involved in this case because the case involves him, or it did. Okay?"

A waiter appeared to offer Shawn and Gus menus, which Shawn accepted eagerly until Gus yanked on his arm and pulled him to his feet. "We're going, Shawn." He refused to let go of his arm, but it wasn't until Juliet gave him her death glare that Shawn got quiet and left.

"Damn," she said. "I thought we were busted."

"So did I. He's not going to handle it well. Not just because he likes you but because he really doesn't like me."

"Get real. He's crazy about you." She smirked at his pained expression. "I know he's straight but he can't seem to stay away from you, Carlton. Maybe all this time he spent flirting with me was just a cover."

He rolled his eyes, and really, what else was there to say?

After lunch, they stood on the sidewalk for a minute. Lassiter looked around for familiar faces, and finding none, bent to kiss her lightly, right on the mouth, right in the open. "Do that again," she said with a smile.

"No," he said with his own smile. "Wouldn't be prudent. Not at this juncture."

"Where's the nearest juncture?"

"We'll be there soon," he assured her.

. . . .

. . .