I hope you enjoy this! Once again, thank you for all of your reviews, comments, PMs, and support!
Winter is holding Toronto in her icy fist again, arctic air blowing off the lake, tiny crystalline patterns forming on every surface of my car, and the scent of snow on the wind. In spite of the new keyless feature on my car, the door is frozen shut under a sheet of ice. I hate these freak spring storms! Ok, I don't. But it doesn't help that the temperature plummeted from a beautiful warm spring morning to the snow apocalypse while I was stuck in a windowless basement all day.
"Shit!" I grumble not quite under my breath, and pull harder, finally wrenching the door open, the perfect end to a perfectly hellish day. I sit, teeth chattering, body hunching into a ball, a blast of frigid air hitting me as my car roars to life. Nifty.
I know it's late, but traffic still grinds to a halt as the first large snow flakes begin to fall. Just what I need. I can't wait to get home, crack open a bottle of wine and see if there are any leftovers in the fridge. Gail has been on a stake out with Andy and Traci for days and there is no telling when she will be home.
Don't get me wrong, I usually love my work! The three bodies that were found in the park last week are just the tip of the iceberg, or so it seems. Some of evidence seems to be pointing back to members of the Russian mob that were involved in the undercover case Gail and Dov worked earlier this year. Nothing in this world motivates Gail to work overtime like the exploitation of children. To be fair, I have been putting in some crazy hours myself, like this fourteen-hour shift I am just leaving now. Normally, I don't mind going over every scrap of evidence that might be relevant with a fine toothcomb – twice, but the pressure is on this time. The Toronto chief prosecutor's office has been impatiently calling my boss, and Elaine made an unannounced visit to my lab this morning with thinly veiled threats about making sure forensics doesn't screw up. This case, and a bunch of new budgetary administrative rules are putting my boss on edge, and sending my interns into a state of nervous disarray.
The only thing that helps is that Jen is back from her year long sabbatical at McGill University in Montréal, where she was a research fellow on a cutting edge molecular biology project. Not only is she a brilliant scientist who is passionate about her job, but she is also fun to be around. In spite of what Gail might think, I would never dream of dating her. We are far too much alike in ways that are both good and bad. This week, she and I have started blowing off steam by practicing Katas in the back hallway during breaks. Though I think watching us doing kick-spins, throws, and yesterday, when Jen got her Tanto Bokken out of the car, a knife fighting Kata, makes my interns nervous too. I don't think it helps that Jen nailed the center of the memo on new overtime rules to the bulletin board with a scalpel from across the break room in a fit of frustration over the increase in paperwork. She just laughed and said "Good. That should keep them on their toes." When I mentioned it to her. She then sashayed off to her lab, the embedded scalpel still vibrating from impact, leaving several bug-eyed, dumbstruck interns in her wake. I am beginning to think that if she and Gail ever do become friends, it could be dangerous.
I sigh and thank the municipal maintenance Gods as I turn on to our quiet street, that the snowplows have been through recently. The wind shifts, blowing with it a white lace curtain of snow that softens the trees and the corners of our roof. I can tell the teenagers from across the street has been here too, because our driveway is more or less clear. I find that I am, once again, eating my words about an attached, heated garage being an unnecessary, yuppie indulgence. I can feel the tension of the day drain from my body as the door slides closed behind me and I turn the car off.
The first thing I notice when I step into the hall is the mind bending, mouth watering aroma of garlic, rosemary, cumin, and a bunch of other herbs and spices roasting with chicken, and other things I can't quite identify. Hunger hits me so hard I barely stumble up the stairs. I didn't see Gail's car in her side of the garage, but I guess she must be home. As I open the door to the kitchen, I see lit pillar candles everywhere. And Gail. Gail is standing with her back to me, holding a glass of red wine, and staring out at the snow. She is wearing a little, backless, dark blue velvet dress, and bare feet. With her new haircut, I see the graceful curve of her neck, the cadence of her shoulders and an expanse of skin running down her spine I want to touch, if not taste. I feel suddenly flushed, too hot for my winter clothes. My mind races, wondering if there was an occasion I forgot. I know it's not Valentine's Day, or her birthday, or Christmas. Were we supposed to go somewhere tonight? She turns slowly as she hears me enter the room. Her eyes are wide and dark, open, trusting. Her skin glows in the candlelight, it glints off of the emerald charm on her chest as she moves toward me on silent feet. I am rooted to the spot. She places her wine on the counter, takes my bag from my hand and places it on a chair, then slowly, deliberately, moves to close the gap between us. I start to fidget with my glasses, but she gently removes them too. Her mouth tastes like wine, and comfort, and longing. Her hands slide beneath my coat, removing that too, and hanging it on the back of a chair.
"Gail?" I begin.
She pushes me back so I am sitting on a stool by the counter, and places her fingers on my lips. Crouching down between my legs, she helps to remove my boots and socks. The palms of her hands ghost up my thighs as she stands up, leaning in to kiss me again.
"Come on." She picks up her wine and tugs me to me feet by the hand, leading me into our living room where a fire burns in the fireplace and there are more candles everywhere. There is also an array of dishes spread across the coffee table containing a variety of cold tapas, and another wineglass for me.
"Gail? What is all of this?" I ask in a hushed tone
Instead of answering me directly, she ducks her head and then turns with a shy smile. "Would you like to eat now? Or shall we take our wine into the shower?"
"Are you trying to get me drunk so that you can take advantage of me?" I ask lifting an eyebrow at her.
"Maybe…" Comes the quiet answer.
Her lips are on mine again soft, but insistent. She plucks at the buttons on my shirt as my hand finds its way down the back of her dress. God, she looks gorgeous! My heart nearly stops when I realize there is nothing but skin under that dress. She laughs softly into my lips as she feels my breath hitch.
"Maybe we should eat something." She pushes me down onto the couch, handing me my wine. My eyes follow her into the kitchen. Soon, she is back carrying a platter of crepes covered in a variety of sauces, and two forks. The aroma its self is heavenly!
"Gail," I begin cautiously, "Did you cook all this?"
"I did." Her eyes sparkle, and she seems quite pleased with herself.
I take a tentative bite of what turns out to be savory chicken and spinach with a rosemary cream sauce. Delicious!
"This is delicious! But you don't cook." I state narrowing my eyes at her.
"Just because generally I hate to cook, doesn't mean I can't, Holly." She shoots back.
"Well all I can say is wow! This is amazing!" I love the way she blushes and ducks her head shyly at the complement.
"No, " she says, "No, you are." And reaches over to caress my arm with her fingertips.
I find my appetite suddenly gone. She scoots closer brushing my hair back behind my ear. I swallow around the growing lump in my throat.
"Gail," I manage in an embarrassingly horse voice, "What is all this? Not that I'm complaining, but did I miss something I should remember?"
"No, " She whispers with a tiny smile, "I know it's not much but, I just wanted to surprise you with a quiet, romantic dinner because you are so wonderful, and you make my life complete." She says the last part so softly I can barely hear her.
"Oh." I am so overwhelmed I don't know what to say.
We eat in silence for a while, exchanging glances and the occasional soft touch. God, I want to touch her! Finally, she gets up, picking up her wine she kisses me briefly with just enough force to make my toes curl. She walks in the direction of the sliding glass doors. She has got to be kidding! Fluffy bath towels and thick terrycloth robes sit folded on the floor.
"So", she says with a knowing smirk "Why don't we take our desert out into the hot tub?"
She wriggles her shoulders. The sexy little blue dress slides to the floor. Picking up a freshly opened bottle of wine she looks back over her shoulder, winks at me, and walks naked out into the storm. It takes me about two seconds to recover, shed my clothes, grab my wine, and follow.