Ray Vecchio turned down the covers on the large double bed and eased inside with a barely-stifled sigh. This had to be the easiest stakeout in the history of his career: nestled in a warm hotel bed with a good book, all to keep an eye on an errant politician with a secret taste for fancy women and corruption. He flipped open the cover of his John LeCarre` novel and pulled his reading glasses out of their case. All he had to do now was settle in for a nice read and a good night's sleep and keep his cell-phone handy for the call that would put their plan in motion.
"I'm not sure I entirely understand this, Benny," Ray had lamented to his friend and partner, earlier that day. It had been a gorgeous winter afternoon, the sunlight streaming in through the precinct windows, and Ben Fraser was sitting at Ray's desk cleaning out the drawer.
"Nothing to understand, Ray---" Fraser picked a ball of dirty string out of the drawer and lobbed it across the desk, landing it squarely in the trash. "You go to the hotel, make yourself comfortable with a good book, and wait."
This sounded too good. "And if nothing happens?" Vecchio slid aside a pile of file folders to sit on the edge of the desk.
"You merely enjoy a stay in one of Chicago's finer hotels--"
"--and who foots the bill?" Vecchio flipped open a copy of the hotel brochure, "because I sure as hell can't afford this, not on my salary!"
"The department pays for it." Fraser extricated a wad of ancient bubblegum from the upper rim of the drawer, dropped it in the trash with a grimace.
"Oh yeah?" Vecchio slid the brochure across the desk to allow the Mountie to read it. "Looky here: whirlpool bath and sauna in every room, king-sized bed, cable tv *including* ESPN--- how come I'm the recipient of such departmental largesse? There something going on here or what?"
Fraser sighed, tried to stifle a grin and failed. "Ray---" He leaned his elbows on the desk, looked up at the American. "There's no plot, if that's what you mean. You're just the best person for the job."
"I'm the best person for the job." Vecchio slanted an evil gaze at his best friend. "Yeah, well---" There was something going on here, he could *feel* it. "What's the catch?"
Fraser avoided his eyes, busied himself unwinding a chain of paperclips from around a brace of pencils. "The catch." His blue eyes crinkled at the corners. "Well, there is one stipulation---"
"I *knew* it!" Vecchio exploded, leapt off the desk. "Why the hell do you do this to me? I thought you liked me, I thought we were friends---"
"Vecchio!" The voice was a graveled whipcrack, heavy with authority. "Stop yakking and get your butt over to that hotel."
Vecchio turned to see the figure of his lieutenant standing over the desk, his manner and bearing one of infinite weariness. "Sir...I was just leaving."
"Yeah well, get on it." He selected a folder from the pile on Vecchio's desk, glanced at Fraser for a moment with furrowed brow. "Aren't you supposed to be off today?"
"Uh." The Mountie glanced up at him. "Yes sir; in theory sir, it is actually my day off, however in the course of preparing my case notes for next week's court appearence in the Delaney case it occurred to me that---"
"Save it. Geez, but you're long-winded." The older man glanced at Vecchio over the tops of his reading glasses. "You still here?"
"Just gone, sir, just gone." Vecchio darted an evil look at Fraser.
"Oh, by the way: Detective Bailey Wright will be on stakeout with you tonight. Try and get along."
"Detective Wright? Somebody new?" Vecchio called after his supervisor, but the older man had disappeared into his office. Vecchio turned to Fraser. "You know this Detective Wright?"
Fraser vacillated for a moment, bit his tongue hard to keep from blurting out the truth. "Uh...Detective Wright was just transferred down here, I believe."
"Huh. I don't like the sound of that---" Vecchio studied the Mountie for a moment. "There something you're not telling me?"
"Vecchio!!!" The lieutenant's voice reverberated through the precinct. "Get your ass out of here--now!"
"Alright, alright, I'm gone already." Vecchio cast a last poisonous look at Fraser and wisely disappeared.
Well, so far there was no sign of Detective Wright, and it looked as if Ray had the room to himself. Perfect. Now to sink into the novel and then into sleep. With luck, his quarry would behave himself tonight and not give Ray any trouble, and this stakeout would go as smooth as silk.
What the hell...? Somebody knocking at the door? What the hell was this?! Ray slapped the book down in irritation and slid out of bed, pulled a robe on over his pajamas and padded barefoot to the door. "What?!" He yanked the door open---
God God.
"Excuse me, but are you Detective Vecchio?"
She was shorter than him, dark wavy hair that brushed her shoulders, big green eyes, curvy, rounded, *damned* pretty--- "Yes. And you are?"
"Detective Bailey Wright. I believe we're on stakeout together." She flashed her badge, brushed past him and into the room, dropped her bag on the floor. "Mmmm...nice! Gotta love it." She kicked off her shoes and sat down on the bed, gestured at the opened door with her chin. "You better shut that, Vecchio, there's a breeze coming in."
This was really bad. Ray let the door slide shut with an audible bang, turned slowly. Oh, this was *worse* than bad, this was damned horrible.
"That yours or mine?"
What? Oh, the phone, his cell-phone, it was ringing. He grabbed it off the bedside table, opened it. "What?!"
"Ray...is that you?" Fraser.
"Yes."
"Has Detective Wright arrived yet?"
Oh damn you, he thought, you damned treacherous snowback, you-- "Yes. As a matter of fact." He turned around, hissed into the phone. "Thanks for warning me, Fraser! You'll be pleased to know I'm standing here practically naked!"
"Naked? Really?" Fraser was laughing at him. "I'd have thought you were more the flannel-pajamas type, Ray!"
"Oh, you're a very funny man, Fraser. Now is there a point to this conversation or are you just interested in torturing me?"
"Detective Wright is very nice, Ray; I should think you'd enjoy spending an evening in her company--"
"Fraser, shut up!"
"We've received word that Senator Donatelli may be receiving visitors later this evening, perhaps some female company---"
"You mean whores--"
"Ray! could you be a bit more...genteel?"
Vecchio shot a glance at Wright to see if she was listening: she was. "Yeahyeahyeah...so what am I supposed to do? Camp in front of his door?" Wright was taking her coat off, this wasn't good, this meant she was staying and *that* meant that instead of spending an evening in bed with his book, he'd have to entertain her, make small talk, all that crap that women liked and he was no good at; God, he was starting to sweat just thinking about it- --
"Just wait for the call. I'll be on the other end and I'll tell you what to do next. Understand that this can in no way be construed as entrapment; we've got to get him fairly if we get him at all." Fraser paused, and static crackled between them for a moment or two. "Good luck, Ray. I have a feeling you'll be needing it." There was a click as the connection was broken, and he folded up the phone, laid it again by the bed.
"Nice pajamas. J.C. Penney?" She'd hung her coat on the hook by the door and her shoes were nested underneath. She was so damned pretty...
"No." Ray crossed the room and hovered uncertainly near the bed. "My mother bought them." God *damn*! How did that slip out of his mouth?!
"Your *mother*..." Wright smiled at him. "I wouldn't have figured you for a mama's boy."
Oh sweet Jesus, what was this? Another smart-assed female out to prove she could play with the boys? "I'm not a mama's boy...my mother is very sweet, thank you very much, and I---"
"Now you're getting all embarrassed on me...cute!"
"I am not embarrassed and I'm not *cute*!" Oh God, this was Fraser's department, what the hell had he been thinking of to let himself in for this?
"Sure you're embarrassed---the tops of your ears are red." Wright's green eyes perused him thoughtfully from her superior, clothed position, and the corners of her mouth quirked in a smile. "And I still maintain that you're cute."
"I am getting back into bed and pretending that you're not here. Nobody informed me that I would be stuck in an *intimate* situation with a female officer and nobody *damn* well asked for my consent---"
"Intimate situation, huh?" Now she was openly laughing at him. "Are you afraid of women, Vecchio?" Her pretty brow creased for a moment as she studied him. "I mean, if you're gay---"
"I'm not gay!" he exploded, "and even if I were there's absolutely nothing wrong with that and it would still be none of your goddamn business!" He yanked the covers back savagely and got into bed. Jesus *Christ*! Who the hell did she think she was, anyway?
He opened the book so hard the binding cracked, and the paper cover ripped halfway down the spine. *Damn* Fraser for recommending him for this!
"I'm sorry. You're right, that was out of line."
He refused to look at her; slid his reading glasses out of their case and slipped them on. But he only pretended to read the words; the truth was, she unnerved him in a million different ways, this whole thing unnerved him! And there was nothing he could do about it, this was his assignment and barring severe physical threat, he was stuck here for the night. With her.
"I said I was sorry."
He felt the side of the bed compress with her weight as she sat on it and still, he didn't look up at her.
"Lookit, we got started really badly, I---"
"No, *you* got started badly!" Ray glanced up at her, slapped the book aside. "You march on in here and assume that because you're a woman and I'm a man that some sort of elaborate hanky-panky is gonna take place and you gotta set the ground rules! Well, I'm sorry to disillusion you, but not all men are sleazy, sex-starved maniacs and I certainly am not! I was doing just fine till you got here, reading my book and minding my own business---"
"Jesus, I really screwed up, didn't I?" Her voice was quiet, suddenly, and with it her bravado had vanished. God! How could I have read him so wrong? she asked herself. Bailey Wright was usually so methodical, so utterly sure about these things... damn! It was bad enough that he was a fellow officer, but this was going to be uncomfortable if she didn't remedy it immediately. And to be honest, she'd gone a little overboard. "I really am sorry. I didn't mean to be such a jerk. It's just that..."
"What?" Ray looked at her. "Go on, I'm listening."
Bailey sighed, forced herself to meet his gaze... "I've been in this situation before, and to be honest, the other officer with whom I'd been stationed didn't seem to understand that this was a professional stakeout..." The fringe of the bedspread suddenly became violently interesting. "I spent the night fending him off, and of course---" She sighed, pressed a hand to her forehead. "Listen, you don't need to hear another sob story, I---"
"No." Ray's voice was quiet, firm. "I guess...I mean, we just read each other wrong."
"I just get...*threatened* and need to sort of set the ground rules, be in control." Bailey smiled at him, held his eyes with her own... 'Nice,' she thought, 'he's a nice guy.' His eyes were the colour of new copper, flecked with gold around the pupils, and rimmed with thick, dark lashes....
"Alright. Point taken." Ray smiled at her, actually relaxed a little bit. "You don't mind if I read?"
She shook her head. "Not at all. I'm just going into the bathroom to change and freshen up. If the bellhop or anybody comes by, we ought to at least look authentic---"
"Whoa! Wait a minute---" Ray glanced up from his book. "Is there something about this assignment you're not telling me?"
Bailey bit her tongue. Hadn't they told him before sending him down here? "We're supposed to be married."
Ray stared at her for a long moment, his heart pounding in his throat. "Please tell me you're kidding."
"Newlyweds, actually. On our...honeymoon."
Ray groaned. "Oh, God, no!"
"I'm sorry." She disappeared into the bathroom and he heard the door close softly behind her.
"Detective Vecchio?"
Ray looked up from his book. "Yes?" It was hard not to stare at her, but he tried; God knew, he didn't want to come across as another sex fiend out for a good time with the chicks on the force, that was the *last* impression he needed to make right now. But damn! She was wearing a long, pink nightgown that was in no way revealing but which made her look beautiful. Her figure was curvy and lush; her face without makeup was a sweet rounded oval. Her feet were bare and he knew without looking that her toenails would be polished pink.
"Do you have a first name? They told me practically nothing about you down at the precinct."
Ray grinned. "Yeah...probably 'cuz they didn't want to scare you off!" He chuckled. "My name's Ray."
She nodded. "Ray. It suits you." She turned down the covers on the opposite side of the bed. "Unfortunately, I'm going to have to get in; I hope that's not too uncomfortable for you? I mean, I could always sleep on the sofa---" She indicated the furniture in question, a spindle-legged French provincial affair that would make scarce bedding for a cat, and Ray knew he'd never subject her to a night on its unforgiving button-backed surface.
"It's okay, I don't mind." He offered her a reassuring smile over the top of his reading glasses. "I'm okay, really!" He studiously busied himself in his book as he felt her slide into the bed, deliberately didn't allow himself to glance across at her. That was simply too tempting, too dangerous.
"Whatcha reading?" She'd slid across the bed and hovered near his shoulder, her hand on his arm.
"Uh, John le Carre`--'The Night Manager'"
"Oh, I love his stuff!" She turned the cover towards her and glanced at it. "Is it any good?"
"Yeah, it is! I just started it, but yeah, it's good."
"Can I read along with you?" Bailey glanced at his face in profile, wondered what was going on in his mind right now.
"You mean over my shoulder, like?"
"I guess it's a dumb idea; maybe I'll just go to sleep---"
"No!" He was suddenly eager to appease her, involve her in this, since she was obviously trying to make him comfortable. "Sure you can read along if you like, that's fine." He felt her palm move up his arm, her cheek settle into the point of his shoulder, and something hot and furtive bloomed low in his belly. She smelled so good... It was the first time he'd been close to a woman since Sorcha, and being this close to her now filled him with mingled desire and apprehension... Even if she did like him, and even if something did come of this (say, he took her out for coffee or even dinner) it was still scarey. He didn't have the kind of casual aplomb that Fraser did, couldn't manouevre the murky waters of attraction as easily as the Canadian, no matter how hard he tried. There was always something inside his head, a kind of mocking voice that watched everything he did and derided him at every turn. "Hey, Vecchio! You think you're gonna get somewhere with this chick?" It reminded him of his old man. It was the primary reason, he knew, why things had failed so miserably for him and Sorcha; why, despite all her efforts and love, he couldn't let go of his fears long enough to love her in return.
"You're right, this *is* a good book." Her cheek against his shoulder muffled her voice. "Where'd you get it?"
"Present from Fraser. You ready to turn the page?"
"Yep. Ages ago."
"Oh...speed reader, eh?" He flipped the page, smoothed it out.
"What's the deal with you and Fraser?" Bailey caught a fold of his pajamas between her fingers: it was silk.
"That depends on what you mean." Ray twitched his reading glasses up on his nose with the fingers of his other hand, forced himself not to give in to the heated presence of her body in the bed, the electricity that crackled between them.
"Well, when I asked you if you were gay---"
Ray's eyes got round behind his glasses, and he laid the book down to gaze at her. "You thought---me and *Fraser*?"
Bailey blushed. "I'm sorry, it's just that---"
"Do we seem gay to you?" Ray searched her face. "I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that, but--" His dark brows creased in the middle. "Me and *Fraser*?!"
"I'm sorry, there I go again, making stupid assumptions. It's just that you're his partner, and he's a very handsome guy, and---"
"---and at the moment, I'm *your* partner, and I'm a very handsome guy, so...?" He grinned at her. "Point taken?"
Bailey laughed, thumped him on the shoulder. "Point taken. More stupid assumptions again." She leaned against him and waited for him to lift up the book. "But you are a handsome guy, Ray."
"What?" He bent to peer into her face, but she wouldn't look up at him. "You think I'm handsome?"
"Don't you?" Bailey pushed the book away, sat up to face him. "Interesting question, don't you think?"
"In what way?"
"Well...I'm always interested in men's perceptions of themselves...you know?"
Ray laughed. "No! I have to admit, it's not something I think about much. You into that sort of thing, perception?"
Bailey grinned. "Yeah, I've got a psychology degree or two kicking around...but tell me: do *you* think you're handsome?"
"Lookit, this is going *way* over my head, I---"
"I'd like to know." Her gaze was level, steady, like her hand on his arm.
"No. I don't." He peered at her over the tops of his glasses. "I mean, I think I'm alright-looking, not grotesquely deformed or anything, if that's what you mean."
"Well see, that's where our perceptions differ. I think you're handsome."
Ray snickered. "Bailey, I'm Italian, I've got a big nose and I'm losing my hair...."
"That's not important: what women find attractive isn't some total Ken-doll package, it's the sum of the parts."
"Yeah well, don't sum up *my* parts!" Ray reached for his book, was stopped by her hand around his wrist. "Are you done with this little psychology experiment yet?"
She reached up and slid his reading glasses off his nose, laid them on the bedside table. "Boy, does your self-esteem need boosting!"
"Bailey...my self-esteem does *not* need boosting, now can I please have my glasses back so I can read my damn book?"
Her finger pressed against his lips, gently but firmly. Ray felt a sudden surge of desire, longed to lean forward and kiss her, push back the parameters of the invisible nimbus that crackled around them both....
"You have beautiful eyes..." Her hands clasped his face. "What colour are they? Hazel? Like brand-new copper....nice cheekbones..." Her fingers caressed his skin, drew a trail of fire along his jawline. "Your mouth...wide, expressive...I'd like to bite your lower lip--" She giggled, a sound of covert wickedness, and Ray felt the heat blooming in his belly, that peculiar tightening sensation in his groin....'I'm being seduced,' he thought, and it amazed him. "--I'd like to run my tongue along your jaw, nip the side of your neck with my teeth...you're beautiful, Ray...beautiful." She drew back and looked at him, her hands still on his face, and the space between them sang with unexpressed desire.
"My God. Bailey, don't say those things, we can't, we---"
"Shut up." She leaned forward, the dark cloak of her hair falling over his shoulder, her palms flat against his chest. "There's nothing going to happen in there--" she gestured with her chin to the room next door where the senator was "--and you know it."
"We can't just---"
"Shut up, Vecchio!" For an eternal moment they stared at each other as if across a great gulf of time and space, and then Ray reached for her, pulled her tight against him. The heat of her seared him, her naked skin through her nightgown pressed tightly against his--oh *God* he was so turned-on, she must be able to feel it, the signs were unmistakeable---
He caught her face between his palms and brushed her opened mouth gently with his own, the tip of his tongue flickering, a butterfly caress, a miniature heartbeat. Then her mouth opened wide underneath his as her hands caught at the back of his neck, clasping his face to hers, and he kissed her, open-mouthed: a hot, wet, sliding caress, almost brutal in its insistence, its raw sexual energy. The boiling surge of lust that had been so tightly held in check ripped through him as his mouth played over hers, a slippery suck, the flicker of her tongue, the darting pain of her teeth lancing into his bottom lip. Jesus God, this was amazing, this was so hot, so right, so uncompromisingly lustful---
---this was *sex.* Not love, not promises, or flowers or chaste whispers in the dark; but raw, sweaty, skin-to-skin, precious lust.
She unbuttoned him, tearing away the buttons in her haste, her eagerness to have him naked, to feel the long expanse of his skin against her own... And he let her do it, went along with this, so drunk with desire as to be blind and altogether senseless to anything but her, but this, but them and what they were doing, what they were going to do, and how it was going to feel.
Bailey ran her fingers through the dark hairs on his chest, flickered the tip of her tongue along his firm jawline, down the column of his throat, grasping a handful of the hair, tugging. Ray's hands slipped underneath her nightgown, his palms in contact with the delicious skin beneath, the silken rounded shapes of her hips and buttocks, the satiny skin underneath each breast.... "Take it off," he whispered hoarsely, "take the damned thing *off*!" He wrenched it from her hands, tossed it away, clasped her body naked to his own.
Oh. So good. So good... Her opened mouth, the dark mane of her hair, the satin expanse of her body, pressed against him, lying on him, his arms wrapped around her waist while their mouths played deliciously together and she traced his lips with her tongue.
Somewhere in the distance his phone shrilled, insistent; and out of habit or training he reached for it, fitted it to his ear. "What?!" God damn whoever this was, if that goddamned senator was doing some nasty deal next door---
"Ray?" The voice was familiar, in this sexual delirium he couldn't place it, who was it, what did he want...?
"Fraser!?" Bailey slid down his body, bent low over him until the dark curtain of her hair brushed his chest and belly. Her tongue flickered on him, dipped into his navel, "Ohhh...do it!"
"Ray...? Are you alright?"
The warm clasp of her lips closed around the head of his cock and bright stars danced behind his eyes as she swirled her tongue around the sensitive glans, flickered down the shaft. He arched up into her mouth, felt her take him deeply down her throat, sliding against him hotly, wetly....
"Ray?"
"Fraser, what the hell do you want?!" It was just like Fraser to call now---
"Are you okay? Should I call a doctor?" The Canadian's tone was solicitious, if rather curious.
Oh Christ, yes! Ray thought deliriously, Call Doctor Ruth... "Why the hell am I talking to you when I'm---"
Shut *up*, Vecchio! Try and maintain some hold on sanity!
"When you're *what*, Ray?" A pause. "Exactly what is going on there, anyway?"
"Benny---" He gasped involuntarily, bit back an ecstatic groan "--believe me when I tell you that this is *not* a good time!"
"I just wanted to tell you that---"
Her lips had moved up his shaft, her tongue working the underside of the glans and all around the corona; the sensation was mind-blowing---
"Fraser--"
"I just wondered if you were lonely, Ray---"
"Fraser---" He clasped the back of her neck, slipped his fingers into her dark hair. "I am--oh, God!--anything *but* at the moment---"
"Ray, are you and Detective Wright by any chance---"
"Good*bye* Fraser!" He slammed the phone closed; reached down and slid her up his body. "God, I want to fuck you, Bailey." And he did: this was pure, unadulaterated lust, the very best kind of adult fun.
He took her face-down, drove deeply inside of her, reached around and clasped her waist, pulled her back against him. "Bailey..." He felt her moving, pressing her buttocks back against him, guiding his hands to her breasts and he began to thrust, sliding into the hot wetness of her with her wonderful tits clasped in his hands. He deliberately spun it out, delaying his own orgasm and hers until she was begging him, teetering on the edge; and then slipping his fingers into the warm wetness of her, pressing his thumb against her clit, rubbing, sliding---
She jackknifed against him with a shriek and he clapped a hand across her mouth; God knew, it wouldn't do to be caught fucking on government time, not with the senator next door--but who really cared anymore? When he was here with her, so intimately joined and holding her tightly to him as her climax rippled through her, rocked her deep insides--
Oh God. Oh god ohgodohgodohgod---
He buried his face in her neck, his cheek pressed against her dark hair as it took him, boiling up from deep within his belly and ripping through him, bending him taut like a bow, impaling him on a single spindle of desire; and he heard himself groan as he pumped into her, one hand buried deep inside her wetness, the other clasped around her waist. Keen, knifing pleasure that left him trembling and flayed with ecstasy, his cheek against her back.
She was lying in his arms, one leg between his, her dark head cradled on his chest, and they were kissing. There was no longer any need for words as they had said everything that needed to be said. Now, there was just delightful saety, an awakening of tenderness and caring, the appreciation of each other.
The phone rang.
"Damn!" Ray reached out for it. "What?"
"Ray, am I given to understand that you and Detective Wright are engaging in---"
"Fraser."
"Yes, Ray?"
"I am getting laid. Don't call back."
"Oh! I see. You are...uh...you and Detective Wright are--"
"Fraser?"
"Yes, Ray?"
"Goodbye."
"Understood!"
The End