"Dwayne . . ." she held my gaze, "I can't do that. If you were the donor, I know surely as the sun rises in the east that you'd want . . . conditions."

"Damn right I would," I nodded. "Most definitely. It's called being responsible. Taking care of your own."

"And I'd be right back where I was before," Simone said bleakly. "Caught in commitments created by someone else and out of my control."

"I don't see it that way," I said with care, pulling apart another piece of pastry. "I see you gaining much more from it. You and the baby would have a second tier of stability in your lives. You'd have extra health care and financial support; you'd have someone to help you raise the child and someone to lean on when things get overwhelming. I can do all that, even if it's not through a marriage."

Simone wiped her hands on a napkin and leaned back. I could see the war across her face; hope versus suspicion. She slowly crossed her arms. "Why would you do that? What would you be getting out of it? Pardon me for being blunt but . . . ."

"Fair question," I rubbed my eyes. "Peace of mind, in a way. Feeling as I do about you I'd be going crazy trying to figure out when to step in and when to step back, Simone. And there's that . . . connection we already have, even if we're sidestepping any conversation about it. It's still there and we both know it. But mostly . . . because I want to. I never thought I'd get another shot and now that there's an opportunity, I want it. More than I realized, I guess."

"I thought fatherhood drove you crazy," Simone whispered, a ghost of a smile on her face. "All those worries and brags about Laurel?"

"It did, and it does," I admitted. "But Lord help me, I am leaning towards another ride on that particular rollercoaster. Not that it's a done deal . . . we both have a lot to think about and sleep on here."

Simone cocked her head, the breeze playing with her curls. "I honestly, truly did not expect this of you, Dwayne. I was sure you would try to talk me out of even trying to have a baby and would suggest adopting."

"Still an option and a good one," I assured her. "And frankly, if you're taking on a baby-adopted or not-my offer's still on the table."

I watched her blink and realized she was close to tears again. I wasn't any too stable myself; we'd covered a LOT of very emotional ground in a very short time here, so I reached over and took her hand.

"Let me take you home and we'll give ourselves time to think, all right? We're not gonna do anything right away; lots more to talk over before making any decisions here."

Simone nodded, taking in a shuddering breath. "True."

-oo00oo—

You'd think after a conversation like that I'd be keyed up and tense; worrying and fretting and second-guessing myself.

You'd be wrong. Sure Simone and I were talking about one, possibly two heavy duty major life decisions here, two momentous situations, but no. I'd held her tightly, kissed her soundly before I left, and found myself whistling on the drive back. Maybe it was the late autumn sunshine, or the mighty sweet memories of the night before, but I was in one of the best moods I'd been in for a long time.

It felt good to feel good, frankly. The team and I had been so bogged down with cases, a lot of them filled with politics and negativity that I'd forgotten what it was like to be pleased with the world. I spent the rest of the weekend catching up on everything I'd let slide and walked into work on Monday determined to keep up.

The week had other plans of course, starting on Wednesday with a sex shop on Canal Street involving two lieutenants.

"Latex Lover Land," Gregorio read the front window and gave one of her eye-rolls. "Looks like a real city landmahk."

"Lookin' for love in all the wrong places," LaSalle muttered, but I shook my head.

"Let's focus on the crime and not the ambience. Who are our victims?"

"The driver's license says it's a Lieutenant Margo Donatti," Loretta told me as she rose up from the half-clothed body on the psychedelic carpet underfoot. "No obvious wounds, but there's a lot of facial swelling and bruising, along with defensive injuries on her hands. I'll know more in the lab."

She glanced around the shop, trying not to smirk. "More latex here than in my morgue."

"And I'm betting you don't have this many colors or uh, shapes," Percy added, looking amused.

"Never say never," Loretta responded with a look that had me laughing into the sleeve of my shirt. She was an amazing friend and terrific coroner but Loretta Wade was also as earthy as they come and impossible to shock.

I walked towards the curtained booths in the back to recover some composure and saw our second partially dressed victim along with Simone, who was finishing a cursory examination of the body. She glanced up at me and smiled. "Mr. Pride. This seems to be Clyde Ingersoll and he's . . . not going anywhere."

"Beg pardon Miz Simone, but he's dead, so that's kinda a given," LaSalle pointed out, grinning.

She shook her head and pointed to the body's ankles. "True, but he couldn't go anywhere prior to his death either. He's locked in a spreader bar."

"A what?" LaSalle asked, saving me the trouble.

Simone gave one of her sweet smiles. "A spreader bar. It's a device to lock and keep a person's legs wide apart. This looks to be a Liebswache, stainless steel and padded, which is pretty much top of the line. Our Lieutenant wasn't able to walk in this device."

The look on young Christopher's face was worth it as he stared at Simone. "How . . . how do you even know this stuff, Miz Simone?"

She rose up, looking coy. "My first job out of high school was working for a dominatrix. I was too young to get a job in the casinos so . . ." Simone gave a little shrug. "You pick up things up."

At this point I didn't think the man could blush any redder, so I murmured, "Go help Percy check the perimeter." LaSalle left kinda quickly and I looked at Simone. "You did that on purpose."

She gave me a grin that was downright naughty. "Yep."

"You're either gonna scare him off, or lead him on," I pointed out, fighting a smirk of my own.

"It's good to keep young men on their toes," Simone replied. "As for this lieutenant, I suspect he had an asthma attack. A fatal one, alas."

"Panic-induced?"

"Confined and in a dark space could have contributed it that," Simone agreed, and drew a breath. She leaned closer to me and added in a quiet voice, "I started my period last night."

"Mmm," I reached out and rubbed her shoulder, which was as much as I could let myself do in public. "Sorry about that," I added gently, wanting to hug her.

She rested a gloved hand on mine and sighed. "There's always next month."

I squeezed her shoulder lightly and nodded before turning to get back to my team, feeling my own unexpected sense of pain at her news.

Logically I'd known it was unlikely Simone would conceive so close at the end of her cycle but it still hurt.

-oo00oo—

On the drive back, LaSalle was still grappling with Simone's comments, and it was hilarious to see him do so.

"So she worked in one of those places like Lys Noir?" he asked, looking confused.

"Seems like she did," I offered, doing my best not to sound anything but calm. Of course I had more of a sweet and sensual inside track about Simone, but the idea of her as a teenager dabbling in kink was a little unsettling, not that I'd admit it.

"But she seems so nice. For a coroner and all," he mumbled. "Pretty too, you know?"

"Christopher, that woman's not your type," I replied sharply, and cleared my throat, "We, uh, both know that."

But I was too late; LaSalle was eyeing me and grinning. "Oh is that so? More like your type, mebbe King?"

"Simone Hiver is her own type," I countered, hoping to sidetrack this conversation.

"Yeah, I knew you liked her," he gloated. "I could tell."

"I like most everybody," I pointed out, sensing it was a losing battle.

"True but I saw the way you reacted to her Halloween costume," LaSalle chortled. "Y'all went from host to bodyguard lickety-split."

I gave a pained sigh. "I was just being courteous—you know how raucous and wild this city gets, especially during a holiday. She wouldn't be used to that."

"Yeah, because Las Vegas is so tame and quiet compared to us," He mocked me with a grin. "Just come out and admit it, Dwayne: you think she's pretty."

"Will it get you to shut up?"

"Mebbe," LaSalle shrugged, still smiling. "But probably not."

"No point then," I grunted, and he just laughed.

"Yeah, you're sweet on her."

"I am too old to be sweet on anyone, Christopher." I knew I was protesting too much but he had a way of needling me that was starting to get annoying.

"Be that as it may, but as my grandma would say a rooster ain't dead 'till he's in the oven."

And I thought maybe his grandmother had a point, even if LaSalle didn't realize it.