(by tagged request for jersey fluff from routine-inchoire ;-) -- hope it’s fun)
Day and night didn’t mean much to Patrick Jane.
The team was down in its hotel rooms for the night, so Jane went along with the convention for their sake. Now in his powder blue pajamas, he stretched on top of the made bed, then brought his arms up and rested his head in his hands. Thinking. Always thinking. The challenge of the chase. Catching the bad guy. But mostly being the smartest one in the room.
Teresa Lisbon was deep in dreamland. The day had been exhausting. It always was when they stayed out of town. Supervising and corralling her high-spirited consultant, Jane, was the biggest job, constant because she couldn’t take her eyes off of him or he’d be off somewhere orinsulting the local LEOs.
She’d fallen asleep listening for sounds across the wall, her consultant’s room. A shower ran and she thought of him standing naked in clouds of steam, soaping up, touching himself everywhere. Everywhere, that’s where her thoughts lingered until she had to do something about the demands of the over-stimulation. It exasperated her a little when she succumbed to this. But he was right there, on the other side of the wall. All she had to do was tap. Just tap. And he’d come to her. She knew he would. And he’d . . . do all sorts of satisfying things. And she’d . . . take good care of him.
A few minutes later, her body humming and well-tuned, she heard Jane at his sink and then the tap, tap, tap of his toothbrush on porcelain as he finished and cut the water.
Miffed with the flow of pleasant relaxation that ran through her, Lisbon turned to her side with an indignant ruffle of the covers. Yeah, he was good--, well, no, heart-stoppingly--handsome. But she’d seen lots of handsome men. She just didn’t hang out with one all day, every day. Or one so smart. And so terribly vulnerable somehow. Those sad, stormy eyes when she caught him unguarded. There was just something in the way he looked at her, teased her, even when he manipulated her for his own amusement, the jackass, that filled her body with lust-dopey chemicals.
When she heard the mattress creak under his weight in the next room, Lisbon finally relaxed and dropped into a deep, honey-limbed sleep. She didn’t hear the mattress creak again, or the rustling of a man getting dressed.
Sitting at the small table in his pajamas, Jane made a couple phone calls and got dressed. He was going to solve the case before the sun came up! He closed the door, making sure the lock was fast, then turned and noted with surprise that it was dark outside. Oh.
Listening at Lisbon’s door, he rapped lightly and rasped her name. Luck wasn’t with him. He had hoped maybe she couldn’t sleep either and he’d be providing some much-needed amusement. He rapped again and called low to tell her he had an excellent play in motion. He was about to knock when she threw open the curtain and opened the low window and stood with her eyes closed, swaying slightly, waiting.
Jane’s mouth was a picture of cautious surprise. She was in a sports jersey, so large that it hung off her shoulder and halfway down a sleek, creamy-skinned, freckled arm. The heavy fabric and the way it draped didn’t tell him much about her breasts. Suddenly, he wanted to know everything about them. He glanced down through the window, but could not see her legs or if she wore shorts or anything at all.
When her eyes opened, she looked at him in disbelief, obviously still full of sleep and wanting to get back to it. When he told her to get dressed, she looked like she might cry. She definitely wanted to say no, but wouldn’t. Maybe it was lucky he’d caught Lisbon in a dead sleep. Her mind was too fuzzy to string together the rush of expletives that should be coming his way. She shut the window and curtain in painful resignation.
Looking left and then right, bouncing as if he was up to nothing, any observer would know immediately Jane was up to something. Curiosity and plain sexual interest would not let him pass up the opportunity to gather more information. Squinting, he peered quickly into the peephole, then looked away. The reverse view was tiny. He saw that she was bare-legged. And stomping. What did she look like naked? And very close up? He knew he’d never look at or think of Lisbon again without wanting to solve this mystery.
He heard grumbling and realized Lisbon had found her expletives. Well, she’d be a little grumpy, but they’d grab a coffee somewhere. That would perk her up.
