This was her opening, and she was going to take it. Consequences be damned. His unusual gesture of affection, that searing touch he had slid down her arm, told her all she needed to know. He may not be ready to make the first move, but he would not refuse her if she took matters into her own hands.

Phryne slid off the desk and to her feet with her most coquettish grin. She hooked her forefinger behind his collar and tie and pulled him up to her slowly, deliberately. When their mouths met it was smooth and feverish and perfect. He gave a half groan, half sigh against her lips and she wrapped her free arm around his neck to pull him closer. For a few tender moments she pressed subdued, thoughtful kisses over his deliciously wide mouth, luxuriating in the simple delight of tasting him. Before long, however, he took over control, getting to his feet and kissing her back in kind, dusting her lips with feather-light touches that made her hot about the neck and ears, that turned her thoughts into gusts of smoldering, tingling hunger.

For a moment, Phryne thought she might be able to stay like this all evening, exploring him methodically with her hands and listening to the mesmerizing, honey-sweet sounds of their lips meeting and parting, meeting and parting.

But behind every kiss grew a dark, insistent need that had been quelled by both of them for far too long. All at once something seemed to simply break between the two of them, like the last bit of trunk giving way before the tree comes crashing down. Without dividing their mouths, Jack reached down to her wrists and tugged both of her gloves off in one swift movement. With hardly a moment's hesitation, his arms were back around her again.

Just like that it was as if Phryne could not get close enough to him. She curled a hand around the back of his head and pushed his lips more insistently against her own. She wanted to feel the pressure of his body against her, wanted to latch on to him and never let go. He grasped her by the hips and lifted her easily back onto the desk, forcing her thighs wide as he crammed himself between them.

Phryne struggled to wrap herself around him even more tightly, one arm curved around his neck, hand clutching his shoulder blade, while the other stole upward around his rib cage, tight fist pressed into the valley of his spine. Thrilling, intoxicating, electrifying, exhilarating—Phryne tried many words to describe the sensations he gave her, but none were fierce enough.

She forgot to be sensible. She forgot there was a danger of scaring him off. She forgot to consider how he might perceive her, half-frantic and writhing against him. All she needed or wanted in that moment was to hold him as tightly as she could, to feel the heat of his body pressed hard against her, to hope that he wanted her just as madly as she wanted him.

No matter how she wound her arms and legs around his body, fervently searching for a tighter grip, she could never seem to hold him hard enough. And he matched her, kiss for kiss, touch for touch. His need seemed to equal hers as his hands stole beneath her dress, sliding slowly and hotly up the tops of her thighs but not yet bold enough to explore further. In between kisses he would murmur her name and little instructions and other small, indecipherable sounds. With each utterance her lust for him expanded within her like hot air.

Distantly, she recognized how very dangerous these feelings were. It was dangerous to want him so badly, to need him so intensely, even though she had been aware of her growing feelings for some time. Why did it take this explosive physical display for her to truly see how deep her feelings went? Her heart was breaking, shattering, and all from being near to him, clutched in his arms, together fighting furiously to reach some kind of epiphany with lips and limbs. What would become of her if something came between them? It was unwise to stake so much on a single man. She feared it would lead eventually to pain.

Yet in that moment, she was willing to risk all the pain in the world so long as he didn't let go of her.

"Phryne," he rasped against her lips in a voice she didn't recognize. Something had changed between them, and Phryne was quite certain there was no going back.

And she didn't want it to go back. She wanted to stay in this office with him forever, wrapped around each other as if for dear life.

The telephone, of course, had different plans.

The harsh, shrill tone scared them both out of their wits, Jack practically leaping out of her arms as if he had been given an electric shock. He swore violently and took several deep breaths, letting the phone ring while he gathered himself. Phryne watched him while he recovered, drinking in the sight of his heaving chest and red, swollen mouth. She had done quite a number on him, as had of course been her intention. She silently willed him to just let the phone ring.

But of course, Jack tended to do the right thing.

"What?" he barked into the phone, running a fretful hand through his now profoundly untidy hair.

As the caller spoke to Jack, Phryne tried to influence the caller's message in her mind. It's nothing. Just wanted to check in. Not a worry. As you were.

Alas, it would seem mind-control was one of the few areas in which Phryne Fisher lacked skill.

"All right," Jack grunted as he scrawled an address on a scrap of paper. "Yes, all right, I'm heading straight over."

He dropped the receiver back into the cradle heavily, the lust now gone completely from his eyes. She could see him floating unhappily back down to earth.

"One hell of a night, this is," he said quietly, now trying in earnest to get his hair back in place. "Another child has been abducted."

It was the last thing Phryne had expected to hear. "Jack, you don't mean it!" she cried, her heart seizing at the expression on his face. "The same man?"

"Impossible to know for sure. But the victims are uncannily similar. Four-year-old girl, wealthy, gone from her bed. I have to get to the family's house right away." Jack's voice was burdened yet keen, and she could see the cogs turning furiously in his mind. She didn't fail to notice that he was speaking to her as if she was already on the case.

"I'm coming with you," she said quickly, before he could realize he'd shared too much.

He raised an eyebrow at her, just a twinge of amusement on his face. "Phryne, I thought we had already established—"

"That was a murder. This is a missing child. All the other officers have gone home but I'm here. Ignore your personal misgivings and think of it in a professional manner. I can help you. You know I can."

"Phyrne—"

"It would be an injustice to this child to leave me behind because you're trying to protect me. I can help, Jack," she insisted, looking at him seriously. A small part of her mind registered surprise at how quickly she had been able to put her desire in check. Though it still thrummed within her, she was able to force it down beneath the surface. Jack needed her for something else now.

He seemed to come to a decision and gave her his gravest look. "You may come along and help me interview the family. Nothing more."

Phryne knew better. All she needed was this small opening and before long she would be leading the charge. But let him think he had control over the situation for a while longer. If it meant she could get him to kiss her like that again she was willing to allow him his little illusions.

Together in the car, there was a tense silence that was very little about the missing child and very much about what had very nearly happened right on top of Detective Inspector Jack Robinson's desk. It wasn't how Phryne had planned it at all—she had intended a slow, careful seduction, more in line with the slow, careful way their relationship had progressed thus far. But it would seem that even sworn spinsters had their fair share of hormones, to say nothing of sexually repressed inspectors.

At the very least, he could not claim that tonight had occurred all in the line of duty. And she did not want this interruption to cause them to backpedal. Gone were the days where she allowed him to keep her at arm's length—she must find a way to convince him to accept her, to accept all of her, and show him she had no plans to break his heart. Quite the opposite, in fact.

As they drove, she reached over and placed her hand over his, which lay rigidly atop his thigh. "Catch me up a little, Jack," she prompted gently. "How long was it, after the other girl was abducted?"

She watched the tendons in his jaw work as he decided exactly how much to tell her. "A week."

She waited for him to elaborate. He didn't.

"And?" she pressed him.

He sighed impatiently through his nose. "She was taken from her bed the night of Sunday, October 14th. Yesterday afternoon she was discovered by a member of the family's staff in the field behind her parent's estate. No ransom note. No contact from the killer at all."

"Dreadful," muttered Phryne absently, trying desperately not to think about every awful thing that could happen to a child in the span of a week. "But that gives us some time, at least."

"Yes. With little Marjorie—the first victim—everyone assumed from the first that the nursemaid had absconded with the child, as they had both disappeared on the same night. The nursemaid, however, was tracked down the morning before the girl was found, having secretly eloped with her lover. By the time we knew what we were dealing with it was already too late."

Phryne watched his face in the dark, squeezing his hand softly. "We'll find this one. We will, Jack."

"We must," he agreed. "I simply cannot entertain any other outcome."

Phryne nodded, trying to muster a grin for him. "We're both very good at what we do. Take comfort in that."

He held his tongue for a few moments, and Phryne quietly allowed him his thoughts. Finally, he said, "About before—"

"We'll discuss it later, Jack. We can't be distracted when we speak to the family."

"Quite right," he agreed, looking relieved to let the subject drop.

Jack made a turn and Phryne became suddenly aware of where they were. "Jack. Jack, this is my neighborhood. My house is one block over."

Jack looked around as if to confirm for himself. "Blimey, you're right. I didn't realize...are you acquainted with the Crossley-Scotts?"

"No, indeed," said Phryne, gripping his fingers ever tighter. "But it seems I am about to be."