"Smells delicious…" reached him from his living room. "How much longer the wait?" The owner of the feminine voice glanced over her shoulder towards the kitchen, able to see her host navigating his cookery like a pro, the master chef he could have been if it hadn't been for the siren call of law enforcement enticing him to join its ranks.
"Hungry?"
"What's giving it away?" his guest ribbed. She deliberately smacked her lips, loudly and repeatedly. When she stopped, she laughed loudly too.
Carlos stuck his head through the space beneath one of the versatile counters. "The snarl in your voice," he teased back.
She growled back and laughed again. Betty, the precinct's tech whiz beamed. This was one of her treasured dreams come true, being alone with her favorite detective, he cooking for her. This was rich. She had pinched herself already, several times since arriving here.
She did it again just to make sure this was no dream.
Adjusting the heat beneath the promised 'delight for the taste buds,' Carlos, still wearing what he'd worn to the office, chuckled. He downplayed his achievement even though whenever he served his small rolled-up tortillas he received glowing assessments of how great they were. Tonight the taste-treats were filled with ground beef, two diced red peppers, as well as a large grated white potato, one large diced Bermuda onion, mixed with vegetable oil and seasoned with garlic salt. He had added pinches of cilantro also.
Additional minutes passed until finally he removed them from the flame. The taquitos were almost ready, resting side-by-side, on a cookie sheet. They needed to bake in the pre-heated oven at three hundred and fifty degrees for twenty minutes until they were golden brown.
"I skipped lunch," she informed, facing back around to take in the less than impressive view. From his window she could just about make out the prominent landmarks of Granville Island. She could spend hours there checking out the unique shops and one-of-a kind galleries, not to mention the great food. "Hope you made plenty."
"Umm…how does twenty sound?"
"Like I want ten all for myself." She sniggered, then insisted, "Uh, make that an even fifteen for me."
"Only five for me?" Carlos protested, hunkering down to peer into the oven. It always amazed him how quickly the oven did its work. Already the tantalizing taquitos were taking on a nice golden crust. "Maybe I should have made an additional five."
"Nah, nah. I'm just kidding. Ten for you, ten for me." Betty finished her visual stroll of the metropolitan lay of the land. She wondered if she might find an apartment here in town. She lived in one of the townships. Smiling in satisfaction, she made a leisurely change of her immediate location. Seating herself on his comfy couch, she took her time giving his apartment another going over with curious eyes. She'd never been here before and she liked what she saw. Everything about his 'digs' suited her. She ran the tips of her fingernails across her cheek, contemplatively wondering what his bedroom looked like.
The blush spreading over her cheeks was instantaneous. She began fanning herself with her right hand.
She was about to help herself to a looksee of his inner sanctum, when the doorbell buzzed.
"I'll get it," Betty helpfully offered, rising from the couch and sashaying over to the door.
"Huh?" Carlos questioned, sounding distant, disengaged and distracted.
"I said I'll get the door," Betty stressed, her voice much louder this time around.
"Somebody's at the door?" he queried, puzzled. His visitors normally called before coming by.
The buzzer sounded off again.
"Could you get that?" Carlos asked. When he opened the oven door, the arresting aroma hit him full force. His mouth watered instantly.
Betty grimaced, her hand about to go for the knob. Sternly, she told herself to have a peek through the peephole before opening the door. Being too careful was hardly a liability. She looked through the small opening. Thinking she wasn't looking through the hole correctly, she angled her eye up closer for a better visual.
"That's funny," she said, as mystified as she looked and sounded. No one was there. She stepped back from the door, baffled.
No sooner had she, when the buzzer buzzed a second time.
"What the…" She looked through the peephole. Seeing nothing or no one once again, she decided to throw caution to the wind and opened the door. There wasn't a soul to be seen, neither before her, or in the hallway.
Whoever it had been had made tracks fast.
"Who is it, Betty?" Carlos asked, coming around from the kitchen island with his tray loaded with the piping warm taquitos, along with small clear bowls filled with salsa, guacamole, grated cheese and a container of sour cream so they could help themselves, adding whatever preferred garnish. He set the tray down on the broad island and came into the living room. Seeing the open door and Betty standing with her hand on its knob, open-mouthed, he scowled.
She was about to make a crack about the invisible man coming to call, but she refrained and shut the door hard. "Whoever it was rang twice…then ran away?" Betty threw Carlos a sour look. "How mature." She clasped her arms across her chest with a stamp of a foot. She couldn't explain it, it was just a weird feeling, but all of a sudden the feeling of it being just the two of them went awry. Somehow she felt that they were now being watched.
"Forget it." He clapped, then rubbed his hands together, an air of excitement tinging his face with color even warmer and more vibrant than it usually was. His stirring eyes danced, sensing the change in her mood. Wanting to ameliorate Betty's look of displeasure, he importuned, "Let's dig in."
"Yes, let's," Betty rejoined, going to the plate meant for her and began loading it up. All notion of weirdness evaporated. She used all of the complementary, delicious trappings that went along with the piece-de- resistance. "They smell heavenly."
They sat at the island a bit farther down from the spread and began chomping and crunching away.
At length, Carlos remarked around a mouthful of his ambrosial creations, "This was a much, much better idea than getting drunk out of our minds, eh?" And after he had promised Kiera that he was going to go easier on hard liquor, too. It felt good not going back on that promise. He wished she hadn't decided to stay behind in the office and had joined them instead. She didn't have to be such a stickler for keeping her nose to the grindstone. Since finding out the truth about her, she was much better company than formerly, but her attitude still needed work.
"Well, I still wouldn't mind having a skinful. What've you got?" Betty arched.
Carlos looked like a go-getter, starting in on his fourth taquito. "Nothing all that hard, but I do have a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc I've been saving."
The invited guest, who had turned the invitation down, shrouded in invisibility, stayed her hand while in the act of snagging a taquito destined for an oblivious Carlos. He had made it clear that the next time she came over they would share the bottle. Now he was about to give away her bottle of wine to the woman with the not so secret crush?
Kiera didn't think so. She ambled over to where she knew Carlos kept his alcohol. While her associates continued to converse, she opened the wet bar. Soundlessly and eerily, under the cover of invisibility, she removed the bottle from its place. Oh yes, maybe Kiera was being petty, she knew, taking her quibbling into consideration. But she didn't want the woman whose integrity she was privately investigating, guzzling what she had been promised.
Kiera made herself comfortable on the couch, putting her feet up on the coffee table, after she placed the wine bottle in another cabinet above the stove. With a Cheshire cat smirk upon her lips, she watched Carlos go to fetch the Sauvignon Blanc. The brawny detective was more than a little surprised not finding the wine where it had been the last time he'd checked.
"That's strange," he categorically assessed aloud.
"What is?" Betty followed up, straining as she craned her neck around the corner of the nook to see his face.
"No fancy wine," he glumly articulated. "I could have sworn I had some."
"No big deal. Anything alcoholic suits me fine."
Grunting, which sounded acutely apologetic, he served Betty some light beer instead.
Every sip she took met with Carlos' profound scowl. After her second bottle, she told him nothing like a little wine gone missing could spoil this evening. The romantic overtones were unmistakable. Kiera's accurate readings left little doubt that Betty had high expectations of spending the night.
Shrugging on the couch, Kiera guided her hands behind her head, braiding her fingers. Absorbed in the developments, she waited to see what would happen.
Had Betty succeeded wedging her foot in the door?
Who Carlos spent the night with was his business, Kiera had no claim on him. How was that even a possibility. Still, as Betty gazed longing into Carlos' soulful eyes, Kiera felt as though she'd been forgotten, shunted aside.
She'd never felt this way before…
Maybe this hadn't been the best idea she'd ever had. As Carlos downed the last of his beer, the overpowering desire to get out of his apartment filled her with regret. Had this even been a joke? When had she intended to make herself visible again and hoot, "Surprise!"
Childish, echoed in her mind.
Feeling ashamed, Kiera gravitated toward the door, biding her time until the opportunity presented herself and she could slip out. With her invisible back up against the wall, she wondered what had come over her, prompting her to perpetrate such a dumb stunt as this, spying on her all-around good sport of a partner.
Was she actually jealous? Ridiculous…
Since when? Since having learned of Betty's dubious affiliation? Or, was it truly something as unimaginative as jealousy?
Betty, feeling that it was now, or never, quietly inquired, "Would you like some company tonight? Hmm, say, company that can return the favor and fix you breakfast tomorrow morning?"
A shade taken aback, but not floored, Carlos politely turned her racy offer down. "Thank you, Betty…but, uh…no thank you." He steered the flow of words in another direction. "Would you like a doggy bag for your leftovers?" He made it obvious that it was getting to be that time, time to go.
Of her ten taquitos, Betty had managed to eat six of the tasty little suckers.
"I guess that means my staying over isn't a go, eh?" Betty looked glum now.
Gallantly, Carlos replied, "Don't count a rain check out." There was a certain finesse involved in a rejection. Carlos had skills.
"I'll have the rest of my taquitos then, kind sir."
He packed them in plastic, while Betty used his 'powder room.' He handed them off to her at the door. "Night, Betty." He closed in on her cheek, and kissed it. The action smacked of platonic sentimentality. "See you at headquarters manana. It was my pleasure whipping up those taquitos."
Turning to face him before she took herself through the door, she tactfully advised, "She's the one you really want to please, isn't it?" Betty reached up for his face, stroking his cheek and gave him a wink. This man was catnip.
Looking innocent, and sounding it even more so, Carlos replied, "She?" As if she knew, Carlos contented himself to think.
Betty saw through his laughable masquerade. He'd have to do better than that to fool her. "A certain doe-eyed brunette you can't take your eyes off of whenever she's around." Knowingly, Betty flicked another wink at him before going through the door. "Night, handsome. See you around."
Bemused, Carlos followed her with his eyes all the way to the elevator. When it came, Betty got in, leaving him gawking still. An uncomfortable feeling crept over him and when he had the door of his apartment closed, the shadowy brunette in question got the jump on him, startling him into the next day.
"Sheesh—Kiera! What the he—"
"I'll have that Merlot you've been promising we'd share, now," Kiera boldly suggested, standing before him in her skintight dark amber suit with a smile that fell far short of being demure stretching her lips. "I decided to take you up on your offer of getting drunk. Although, I don't get drunk, so I'll just take you up on…" She left him to stew in his own bewilderedness, then finished, "Whatever else you might be offering." Leisurely, she made her way to what remained of the taquitos and the fixings. She got into the spirit of taquito preparation, helping herself. Before popping one of the rolled up specialties into her mouth, she spurred, "You did say wine, didn't you? That last time?"
"Kiera…," Carlos mildly said. Putting two and two together quickly, he told her, "So I did…so if you'd care to tell me where you put it, I'll do the honors." Arching an eyebrow, he waited for his sly, highly independent interloper to divulge the wine's whereabouts. Once she had, he took up two clean glasses, fluted ones, and poured.
She sipped and he did too after a moment passed. The wine slid down their throats with a smoothness slicker than silk. Blinking, Carlos inveigled, "Don't get me wrong, love the suit. Love you in the suit."
Kiera's eyes twinkled. "Love me in the suit?" she baited, rolling her bold blue eyes while trying to keep a straight face. Teasing her partner was fast becoming her favorite new pastime. She was partly successful keeping impassivity intact.
It gladdened Carlos that she could feel increasingly more comfortable messing with him, but taken by surprise wasn't his favorite thing. He faked vexation, though, wanting to keep things mellow.
"Next time you sneak in here…"
Kiera had the lip of the glass resting on her lower lip. "I didn't sneak. I walked right in." Her brow furrowed. She liked it, seeing that she had put him on edge. She liked him edgy, although he was doing his best to overcome it.
"If you're about to say in plain sight, forget it. I want fair warning before you use the suit for some off-hours cloaking."
Thoughtfully, in her fantastic outfit that fit her like a second skin, Kiera coyly asked, "Would you like one?"
Pointblank, since he had been meaning to ask if it were even possible, Carlos fired off, "Yes!" He imagined himself invisible, the boon her threads lent to crime fighting, getting the drop on bad guys, the way Kiera had at the marine, and never being seen. Carlos was practically salivating, his heart pumping blood furiously to his brain. The CPS suit was a crime-fighter's answer to many prayers, a miracle.
"I'll see what Alec might be able to come up with."
"You're kidding! Like with your firearm?"
"He loves supplemental projects. Now he has another one."
"I'd be all kinds of grateful, Kiera." He slanted his half-full glass at her.
"All in a day's work for Section Six," she good-naturedly blandished, pouring herself another full glass of the savory wine. "May I?" she asked as an afterthought, permitting herself to go all pensive.
"You certainly may." He couldn't help but artfully toss in, "Don't you always?"
Kiera downed more wine with a satisfying gurgling sound. This vintage was as addictive as fermented grapes got. "Do you have any more of this stuff?"
Like a wise guy, Carlos cracked, "Aren't you the one who said I needed to cut down?"
By way of reply, Kiera reached for the close to empty bottle to siphon off its last drop. "More, please."
Obligingly, Carlos rose from the kitchen's side island, telling her, "I take it you plan on getting drunk, eh?"
Dutifully, Kiera rejoined, "I plan on spending the night."
That stopped him cold, imagining he'd read just the right touch of innuendo in her statement. Just as accommodatingly, he responded, "I offered, y'know. More than just a night. You want to move in, move in."
Kiera deliberated, still at a crossroads she couldn't seem to choose which way to go. "If I do…" She looked caught between that proverbial rock and a hard place and space to move around in was shrinking. But, she had made up her mind the last time she had slept here. Going back to Kellog's boat was never happening again. She wasn't some bimbo his place was crawling with these days, awash in women who didn't seem to have a problem with being used as they partied hearty. "There can't be…" Molding feelings using words was harder than she thought it would be.
Reading her, which was cozily becoming second nature for him, Carlos generously yielded, "Any strings." Soberingly, and dryly, he reminded her, "I'm not the type of guy who pulls any. You need your space, I'm giving it up for you. I'm fully prepared to convert the den into a man cave. The bedroom's at your sole disposal. We can do this, Kiera." He pulled on her arm. "Roomies. Friends."
"Allies." Nodding, she offered to contribute something toward expenses.
"You're my guest, Kiera. Besides, you're not earning a salary, which I have also been meaning to ask you about. How have you been covering your daily costs?"
"Moonlighting, from time to time."
She had his full attention. "Moonlighting? Doing what?" Suddenly, he didn't want to go down this road, but he couldn't help but wonder. She loved her family, always would, he knew, but she was walking a tightrope. A beautiful woman like Kiera could reap loads of cash if she was willing to sell her soul to the highest bidder. She didn't seem that type, but he didn't know her as well as he wanted to.
The powerful urge to kick himself seized Carlos. Why hadn't he thought to help her out financially before now? That is, if she wanted him to, as self-reliant as she was. But, he would help her out that way, not giving it another thought.
With a sigh of satisfaction, and mischief, she disclosed, "Delivering pizza. Part-time."
He did a double take. "Seriously."
"It's honest work. I get to eat all the pizza I want. And, it's spending money for unforeseen expenses."
"Just don't eat too much pizza," Carlos recommended, giving her a very appreciative eye and deeper respect.
"Oh? Why's that?"
Taunting, he claimed, "Your suit won't fit as…nicely as it does now." That had sounded exactly the way he had meant it to sound. Complimentary with suggestive overtones.
What that kind of admiring scrutiny he was paying her, coupled with longing richly coloring his tone, she evenly replied, "The suit expands to fit. Putting on a few pounds wouldn't make any difference."
He did a poor job concealing his disappointment. "But, you wouldn't pack on the pounds, though. Would you? Purposely?" He knew he shouldn't have said anything, especially the way he was sounding, which was way out of line. "Uh. Okay. Forget I even opened my mouth, letting inanity escape."
But, he had. She wouldn't forget, as she smiled at Carlos and gratefully accepted his charitable offer. "I don't have much, but what little I have I'll collect and bring them here tomorrow. Okay?"
"That suits me fine."
"Oh, and I'll bring more wine too."
"Glad to hear it."
"I knew it would." She popped more taquito into her mouth, watching Carlos drool. "Oh…and since you don't know. I have a very fast metabolism. I can eat anything and never gain."
"What technology allows for that?"
Kiera grinned. "Good genes. They still exist in twenty seventy-seven."
"Hip-hip-hooray for good genes." The best of the best, he deemed, and secretly thought...And genetic enhancements and alterations. Is this what we have to look forward to? Carlos genuflected, smiling broadly.
Though she couldn't mind read, Kiera had a pretty good idea what was going through his fascinating mind. Just as enigmatically, she smiled back.
TBC…