That was a bit of a mind-blower. I blinked, trying to get my head around that, and not quite managing it. To her credit Simone was patient and gave me time to mull on the matter. I sighed. "That doesn't seem like it should be . . . right."

"The person tied up is the most vulnerable," Simone pointed out. "Therefore they SHOULD be the one controlling the situation. That's where the trust factor comes in."

Her fingers curled around mine and I gripped them, marveling at the heat of the woman. She squeezed back, and gave a nod.

"You tell me—in words or gestures—what you want, and it is my sacred duty to take care of those desires," Simone told me. "That's how a properly done scene works."

"Endorphins," I remembered. "Focus; pain; release."

Her smile bloomed and for a moment nothing else in the room registered for me. I understood.

Then Simone let go of my fingers and reached for the case, pulling out the keys. "Soup's going to boil over," she giggled, and undid the cuffs, letting them clank on the table. I slipped them off my wrists and turned, rising to get to the stove, going through the motions and feeling a strange lightness. I turned the heat off, waved away the spicy steam and reached for the bowls, ladling out enough for our lunch while Simon sliced a crusty baguette.

We ate. Good soup, for basic vegetables. Simone nodded and tried not to cough but I told her she'd get used to the peppers if we simmered it longer. We didn't say much but I found myself watching her hands mostly, moving gracefully over the table and I almost missed her words when she did speak.

"I'm sorry I'm going to miss next Saturday," she sighed. "I hope you don't mind but it's the only day for the tickets."

I looked up. "Tickets?"

She nodded. "I'm going to the symphony. Mozart."

"Sounds nice," I murmured. "I don't mind; you have a right to do things on your own."

"Oh no, it's a date," she told me, stirring her soup. "He's got season matinee tickets and I love Mozart performed live."

"Oh." That was about all I managed. "Well, have a good time. We can always pick up lessons another Saturday."

We did the dishes and she took half of the leftovers as was our routine. I watched her go, feeling a strange little twist inside. I couldn't be sure if it was because Simone was going out, or because I'd learned a lot more than I'd realized about her.

And myself.

-oo00oo-

As weeks go it wasn't the worst I'd had but it was in the top five. The case we were on—a missing lieutenant who'd disappeared with a briefcase full of security files—that was going nowhere. Percy and LaSalle had taken to pulling practical jokes on each other which got annoying real fast, especially with Gregorio complaining about it. On top of that Laurel had some credit card issues that she wanted me to straighten out over the phone which wasn't practical or possible most of the time.

And because of all that I was a bit more snappish than usual, which meant by late Friday I had three agents in sulky moods, a daughter who was putting my calls straight through to voicemail, and no damned luck in finding our missing man. I took myself to the morgue; not because we had a body, but I figured it would be safer to get myself out of that office and let everyone gripe without me.

Loretta was working on files when I came in, and shot me a knowing look. "Hard week?"

"And then some," I sighed, glancing around to see if Simone was in. "No luck in locating Lieutenant Jankowitz OR his attaché case. Laurel's on a 'help me, don't help me' jag and on top of that, everyone in the office seems to have a bad case of rubber chickens and whoopie cushions."

Loretta smirked. "Yes, that could get annoying."

"Which part?"

"All of it," she admitted. "She's not here, by the way."

I tried not to look guilty but Loretta knew me pretty well and sighed. "Is this about Simone too?"

"No," I muttered, feeling that was about eighty percent true, but Loretta wasn't buying it.

"Dwayne . . ."

"Maybe a little. You know I've been giving her cooking lessons on Saturdays, right?"

"Yes," Loretta nodded. "Enjoys them too, from the way she talks about them."

That was gratifying to hear, and I smiled. "She's a good student. Too bad she's playing hooky this weekend."

"Ahhh," Loretta smiled. "The date. I should have guessed that would rankle a little."

"I doesn't," I tried to protest. "Just . . . we got into a routine and . . . "

"And a break in routine is always a little annoying," she finished. "Well if it's any consolation I don't think it's as much about the gentleman as it is about the music."

"Mozart," I remembered. "She mentioned it."

"Mmmhmmm," Loretta nodded, looking at me just the way I didn't need to be looked at. I made a face.

"You're going to say something I don't want to hear," I deduced, "aren't you?"

"Dwayne," she began in that patient way of hers. "It's been a long time since you've gotten close to anyone and it's not easy. Maybe you need to be honest with yourself about what these Saturdays mean to you."

"It's not like that," I protested but that wasn't the entire truth either. Ever since Simone had cuffed me and held my hands I'd thought about that moment repeatedly. The warmth of her fingers, the sincerity of her voice, that strange . . . intimacy that she could create so easily. First the rubber band and now the cuffs . . . there was something about it all that was getting under my skin and I honestly didn't know how I felt about it because it shifted whenever I brought it to mind.

In terms of the big picture, I like structure. I like knowing the chain of command; the routine of the day; the patterns of life. But I'd be a liar if I said I stuck with them all the time. I'd been known to go rogue now and again. Had a reputation for following hunches and chasing ghosts that I'd earned. I wasn't the poster boy for 'by the book' procedures to be honest.

So maybe that's why what Simone was talking about intrigued me a little. Not quite walking on the wild side, but not exactly turning my back on it either. The give and take of that trust appealed to me even as it spooked me a little.

While Loretta was only seeing the surface of things she'd earned the right of a long-standing friendship to nudge me a little and I sighed.

"I'm not ready for . . . anything," I admitted. "Not yet."

"No, but there are always baby steps and maybe this is one of them," she murmured. "Just be careful. Simone is a good woman but not easy to draw out."

"Shy," I interpreted, and Loretta smiled.

"Shy. A little awkward. Which tells me she doesn't socialize easily, or that she's afraid to."

I nodded. "Has she mentioned her husband?"

Now it was Loretta's turn to make a face. "The late Professor Hiver, oh yes. I looked up his academic profile. Very dry research into cultural subsets. Looked up his medical records too. Brain tumors in the frontal lobe that would have made him hyper-aggressive over time. That could explain her broken arms and wrist—not that I know for certain."

"That explains a few other things as well," I muttered as much to myself as Loretta. "Still, you're right. Maybe I'm investing a little more of myself into these lessons than I thought."

"That's not a bad thing," Loretta assured me, patting my arm. "As long as you're aware of it. You're doing her a lot of good too."

She got called away and I took off, feeling a little better myself. On a chance I texted Simone before I could talk myself out of it.

Will be around Sat. evening just FYI. Hope Mozart is good. DP

Wonder of wonders I got a text back in the early afternoon, right as I finished cleaning off the grill. Need expert advice on cookware. Will pay for your expertise if we can shop tonight SH

No payment necessary; flattery works just fine DP I texted back, grinning.