Unfinished Business    part 3

Livvy

Headers in Part 1

Rating: R

*~*~*~*

SATURDAY

Lindsay is totally and utterly content as she drifts in the diaphanous void between sleep and consciousness, where warmth and serenity infuse her, where her senses have kicked in but reason is lagging behind. Why rush forth into the world of stress and bustle when you can stay and play in the land of dreams? Everything is perfect; she wallows in sybaritic enchantment until interrupted by a loud grunt and a jostling of the mattress that has her bouncing lamentably out of her illusory perfect world and back into stark reality.

Bobby swears as he climbs out of bed and begins sprinting across the room, asking, "Why didn't you wake me?"

If Lindsay had any intention of accepting that she is, in fact, awake, she'd scream, 'Because I was asleep!' at him, instead, she stays quiet; sleep is beckoning and Lindsay willingly follows. She ignores the horrible noise that she hears coming from the bathroom, believing that Bobby's voice telling her that she has to get up now is not worth listening to... Get up? Oh, yeah, like that's going to happen.

"Linds, order breakfast, will you?" he calls out.

"Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir," Lindsay mumbles to herself, turning over and burrowing further into the bed.

Her soporific realm is again taking effect, when she hears Bobby say, "Oh, no, no, no, no."

'What now?' she thinks but chooses to ignore him. Seconds later, the bed jounces and the air is knocked out of her lungs as he lands on top of her. He begins nibbling below her ear - the bastard - how is she supposed to sleep when he does that?

"We've got to get moving," he says when she starts vocalising her pleased displeasure. "Checkout's in an hour."

Lindsay's hums turn into moans - and not the good kind - before she mumbles, "Okay, okay," knowing that the best way to stop him nagging is to agree with him, verbally at least, because, in truth, she's decided that an hour gives her fifty more minutes of sleep time; after years of being called out in the middle of the night she knows that she can easily get ready in under ten minutes, if she has to.

"You awake?" Bobby asks and she assures him that she is, while mentally replacing this overbearing Bobby with the amenable one of her dreams; he is a man who not only encourages her to return to sleep but lays with her, cradling her in his arms, his warmth, wrapping her in that delicious scent of sleepy Bobby, maybe whispering to her in that deep, gravely, sexy-as-hell tone - ooh, yeah, now that's a hoarse whisper worth making a film about.

She can picture him now, well-worn - in every sense of the word - jeans, a blue shirt that matches his eyes, maybe a bit of white T-shirt peaking through underneath... or black, yeah black, a black shirt and jeans, all in black, her dangerous lover, that bad-bad boy that her mother warned her about, yeah, yeah, that's nice and a leather jacket too, black, all black, or maybe a white T-shirt, no, all black, black's so good and his hair is a little mussed - a little too long so a few strands refuse to stay put - and when he leans in to whisper into her ear some strands slip down and she reaches up sliding them back into place, feeling the silky strands glide through her fingers, imaging the feel of him gliding through other parts. He's unshaven, of course, her dark dangerous rebel, as her hand runs over his face it scratches her skin, it hurts so good and his voice, the whole time, is whispering dangerous words, words that dig deep into her soul and make it fly, that reach right in and take control until she is his and that's all she wants to be, all she'll ever want to be, his, with him, his.

Soft lips brush against her cheek and Lindsay's palm reaches up, laying against the rough surface of Bobby's face, enjoying the scrape against her hand, "Feels so good," she hums, "Don't shave."

"What?" Bobby asks, pulling Lindsay out of her trance, reminding her that she's with Nagging and not Rebel Bobby now.

Realizing that she's spoken at least some of her thoughts aloud, Lindsay finds the energy to open her eyes, she looks up into Bobby's curious face and shakes her head, whispering, "Nothing."

Bobby smiles at her, unconvinced but unconcerned, then leans in and kisses her lips softly. When he pulls up, he whispers, "I'm showering," then, rising from the bed, looks over her with a grin, before ordering, "Don't go back to sleep."

"I won't," she promises. She watches Bobby return to the bathroom, then, rolling over, snags his warm pillow and, cuddling up close with it, prepares to sink back into slumber, back into her dark, dangerous, Rebel Bobby world.

"Don't forget breakfast," Bobby calls out.

Lindsay hums a reply.

"Lindsay!" Bobby calls out with a mix of warning and amusement.

"I'm up, I'm up, I'm up," she declares.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"So, you're no where near my pillow?"

Damn him! Lindsay sits up, pokes her tongue out at the grinning face in the doorway then stumbles her way out of bed, mumbling and muttering as she reaches for her robe. She hears the shower turn on and, like Pavlov's Dog, her own body responds - oh, God! - if she was more awake she'd consider joining him... but, at the moment, slumped over the table, dreaming and waiting for room service to deliver a huge pot of coffee is actually just as appealing as showering with a wet, soapy, delicious Bobby and, the added bonus is, it certainly requires a lot less energy and cognizance. Shuffling out of the bedroom, she picks up the phone, sits at the table and lays her head down as she dials the number, believing that she just may spend the next seven days sleeping, she is that tired.

Never one who could honestly be considered patient, Lindsay finds that having ordered coffee, the aggravation of now waiting for said coffee is enough to draw her out of her somnolent state. Thankfully it arrives before she becomes too hostile... but only just. Opening the balcony door, she walks back to the table and, sitting there, allows the soft breeze and the strong coffee to take affect, to soothe her I-don't-want-to-be-awake nerves. She's just finishing her breakfast, and sneaking a treat, when she hears Bobby enter the room; he has an uncanny sense for catching her out when she least wants to be caught and this morning is no different.

"Lindsay Dole, is that a cookie that I see?" he asks with a grin, having sat through her healthier-eating-habits lecture many times, and not once heard her say that he could have cookies for breakfast, he's delighted to catch her indulging in such decadence. Lindsay Dole, letting herself go, will wonders never cease.

Lindsay tries to smile around a mouthful of not-so-well-hidden treat but smiling and covertly chewing aren't exactly possible concurrently.

"Did you order some for me?" Bobby asks as he walks towards her.

Lindsay shakes her head and stands, then, finally clearing her mouth, says, "Oatmeal."

"You'd better not have," Bobby mumbles as he hurries to her side. Lifting the lid from his tray, he purrs, "Ahhhh, perfect."

'Love at first sight,' Lindsay thinks as she watches his eyes light up. The sound of the shower running had served to awaken Lindsay and remind her that Bobby had been a good boy last night, aggravating this morning but impressive last night. As such, she'd decided to spoil him with his dream breakfast, knowing that today is the perfect day to do so as someone else will be doing the cooking, she, though, still gets the rewards of seeing him enjoy it. Or she would have if they weren't in such a hurry, dammit. She runs her hand along his arm and, smiling up at him, says, "I'm showering," before walking away.

She hears him begin eating, then, just as she reaches the doorway, he says, "It wasn't the same bellhop as last night was it?"

Lindsay stops and turns to face him, "No," she says eyeing him curiously. He eats nonchalantly but a blip registers on her Bobby-radar, "Why?" she asks taking a step towards him.

"Just checking," he replies with his attention solely focussed on his food.

She knows that she is walking into a trap, but, her curiosity is peaked, walking slowly back towards him, she again asks, "Bobby, why?"

Bobby looks up now and takes another mouthful of his omelette, before saying, "I saw the way that he looked at you last night, so, uh, if he came back for another look," he grins and shrugs, "I may have had to get territorial on him."

Lindsay returns his grin as she asks, "You saw him looking at me?"

This time, as his mouth is too full, Bobby merely nods.

"Really?" Lindsay says dubiously.

"Well," Bobby replies, then thinking back realizes that he has to concede that he didn't see a thing other than Lindsay. "I guess, I felt him looking at you, more than actually saw him do it."

"Bobby!" Lindsay laughs, "He was as gay as your cousin Frank."

"Really?"

Lindsay nods.

"So, all that lust in the air, it was just me?" Bobby asks with a grin.

Lindsay takes the final step to his side, shrugs noncommittally and says, "No, not all."

Bobby smiles broadly now, happy with the idea that he, too, had been the object of desire and not the only slave to lust.

Seeing his smug expression, Lindsay adds, "After all, you in a towel, I doubt that he's recovered from that view yet."

Bobby growls and reaches out, dragging her onto his lap. Lindsay laughs as they almost overbalance and topple over before righting themselves again. "And you? Have you recovered yet?" Bobby asks, leaning his cheek against hers, after whispering in her ear.

Lindsay feels a rush of arousal as she looks at Bobby's smiling face, as she feels his arms around her, his body under her, and his adorably unshaven cheek rubbing against her. "Not even close to recovered," she purrs, "You were magnificent."

Bobby smiles and feeling Lindsay's lips brush the corner of his mouth turns to accept her kiss. They become lost in the sensations of gentle delight: of warm, soft lips pressing and caressing, silky, strong tongues brushing and teasing, sighs and moans, shared and tasted, and hands sliding over bodies, holding tight.

He tastes like coffee and, unfortunately, egg. Whilst recovering from her stabbing, Lindsay had, for many weeks, been on an enforced, soft-foods-only diet; as such, Lindsay has eaten eggs more often than she'd currently care to remember and has certainly lost the taste for them. Now, the mere thought of eggs has the tendency to inspire nausea, but not this morning. Today, she can live with the thought, and more, because it's Bobby mouth and, underneath it all, that's the flavour that she's savouring. She could kiss him forever, if only they had the time to... pulling away, she rests her head on his shoulder, breathing heavily, composing herself, preparing to drag herself away. Finally having to give in to the inevitable, Lindsay stands, saying, "I really should go shower."

Bobby reaches out and draws her back to him until, this time, she's straddling his lap. "Hold on a minute," he whispers as his hands smooth over her back, then, slowly they slide downwards, caressing her hips, before coming to rest on her thighs. His eyes look up and into hers before dropping to her lips, his hand raises and his thumb traces slowly across her smile. Leaning in to kiss her again, his voice is reverent when he says, "Not yet." His hands move to rest on her bottom, drawing her ever closer to him, pressing himself into her as their mouths continue to collide with sensuous symmetry.

Lindsay's hands slide up Bobby's arms and across his shoulders before coming to rest either side of his head, holding him to her, guiding him, her fingers delving into his hair as her thumbs caress his sand-papery jaw. 'Thank God he didn't shave,' she thinks and smiles her delight into him, into his kiss, purring with appreciation, her body coming to life under the ministrations of her dangerous lover. She's thankful for their fevered activity, knowing that he'll mistake her blush for arousal and not the sudden disconcertion she feels about getting lost in her dream, the folly of imagining this man as anyone but himself, of dreaming of him while he's here, in her embrace.

Lindsay doesn't know what has gotten into her this morning but she feels relaxed and reckless, so unlike herself. She pictures Bobby's eyes, and his laughter, should he know what's going through her mind. Though tempted to tell him, the thought that his amusement would come at her expense keeps her silent; she's never been one to handle being laughed at well and would hate for her current mood to be broken. She feels his hands moving up her body, pausing at her waist where they tug on the sash of her robe, loosening the knot slightly, not worrying about the unnecessary delay of untying it, they move on. The robe, unable to withstand the onslaught of attention, falls open enough for Bobby's hands to slip in and part the sides. His hands again rest on her waist, his thumbs caressing her abdomen as their kiss draws to an end.

Bobby slowly pulls away, his eyes hungrily surveying her bared skin. The flush of her skin, the deep rise and fall of her chest, the nipples protruding, crying for attention, signalling the extent of her arousal all make his mouth go dry and his body hum in anticipation.

"What are you doing?" Lindsay whispers, wondering what has happened to the whirlwind who twenty minutes ago was insisting that they had no time, that they needed to hurry. This man before her shows no sign of haste, he's looking at her as if she is all that he needs, as if she is all there is to this life, as if she's a feast that he's about to indulge in.

Bobby raises his eyes to hers, his hand is sliding glacially slowly up her body as he does. "Just helping," he murmurs, "Loosening it... in case... can't have you getting stuck, now, can we?"

"My hero," Lindsay sighs, grinning at him, she asks, "Whatever would I do without you, how could I possibly open jars, bottles or bathrobes on my own?"

"Hmmm," he hums, leaning forward, resting his forehead against her collarbone.

With the balcony doors open there is a chill in the air but Lindsay's body no longer feels it. Lindsay's eyes close as she centres on the feel of Bobby's breath against her bared skin, hot and moist and inciting rebellion - to hell with time, to hell with checkouts, she wants more, she wants this, she wants him, now. She whispers encouragement as Bobby begins to move down her body; the cool tip of his nose tickles over her chest as it travels towards the apex of her breast. She waits breathlessly for it to be replaced with his hot mouth; her body tingling in anticipation. The sensations in her body seem to congregate in that expectant nipple, eagerly calling for the warm, soft touch of him - needing to be tugged, licked, suckled, nibbled - oh, please, now.

Despite her heightened anticipation, over-sensitized skin, desirous, avaricious need, his first touch draws a surprised throaty gasp and a surge of pooling heat, for, instead of the expected soothing moisture of lips and tongue, her nipple is caressed with the rasping grate of his whiskered chin. Her eyes fly open, looking into his as he softly repeats the action. His stubble catching, prickling, scratching over her. His smile of adoration is lost in the blur of arousal that hits her, making accurate perception impossible. Bobby repeats the action, once, twice, three times, before the whisker burn becomes a forest fire, and she's forced to push him away, when her need becomes too intense to ignore.

Reaching for his face, she pulls him up to hers and they kiss - deep, wet kisses. Lindsay sighs with delight into his mouth as cold wet fingers brush over her nipple, soothing its ache, inciting desire. Cold and wet? What the hell from? She pulls out of the kiss and looks down at his hand, sees the white liquid droplets clinging there. Raising her eyes to his, she sees a flicker of apprehension - a little boy afraid that he's gone too far - she smiles and leans forward, resting her forehead against his as she regains breath and composure. "Milk?" she whispers, amused.

Bobby chuckles, then, moving her away, ducks down, saying, "Let me get that," as he proceeds to lick her clean.

Lindsay raises his hand to her mouth, returning the favour, cleaning each finger in turn. Bobby's head raises as his eyes watch her mouth, his own falling open in awe, his breaths panting against her skin. Lindsay watches his eye's transition from cobalt blue to ivory black and feels each change in her body as it readies itself for him.

This is what she loves, the give and take, the games that they play with each other, the acts of seduction, ploys not to win a heart that has already been given but to lure away the other's control. It's a delightful challenge, a contest to see who will break first, who will be the first to cross the line and say, 'No more games, I've got to have you now.' In this little battle of wills there are no losers, only winners in a glorious sport that each revels in playing.

When Lindsay releases the last of Bobby's fingers from her mouth, she playfully licks along his lifeline, feeling the shudders rumble through his body as her tongue trails over his trembling palm. Oh, yeah, she's winning today. Bobby emits a long moan and Lindsay is suddenly brought back to reality and the knowledge that they don't have time for this, she gives him a sympathetic smile and, cuddling up close, says, "We shouldn't start what we can't finish."

"Um," Bobby replies, amusement in his tone.

Lindsay straightens up, sees Bobby mischievously grin at her before ducking his eyes. "What?" she asks cautiously.

"Actually, we have time," he replies.

Lindsay tilts her head to the side, raises an eyebrow and waits for his explanation, loving the view of Bobby's mental squirming. When he doesn't say a word, she asks, "So, what happened to, 'you have to get up now, we have to hurry?'"

"I um... I kinda miscalculated, a little," he looks a little abashed at his error and, with a little shrug adds, "Remember, I'd only just woken up."

"How far out were you?"

"About an hour."

"So, what you are saying is...?"

"We still have ninety minutes until checkout," he grins.

"Bobby! When were you planning on telling me this?" Lindsay asks, exasperatedly amused.

"I'm telling you now," Bobby replies, "Besides, it isn't like you were actually hurrying, so, what difference does it make?"

"What difference does it make?" Lindsay repeats while looking at him with all the haughty indignation that she can muster, which isn't much considering her good mood and immodest position. When Bobby shows no sign of losing his smug grin, she reaches across to the table, steals a cookie from his tray, and says, "Just for that, I'm taking this."

"Hey! No fair," Bobby complains. When Lindsay shows no sign of relenting, instead, she's taking delight in each exaggerated nibble of her cookie, he adds, "It's your fault anyway."

"My fault? What's my fault?"

"That I miscalculated the time."

"Oh, oh, this will be good," she says with disbelief. Thankfully Bobby's hands are holding Lindsay's hips as it enables her to lean back with her arms crossed, the look in her eyes challenges him to prove his point.

"You're beautiful," he says and she laughs.

Wriggling forward on his lap, she places her arms around his neck and whispers, "You're not too bad yourself, but that doesn't condone your ridiculous comment."

"Well," he begins to explain, "I remember that I was adjusting my watch, when uh... someone," he stares intently at her until she grins, "Someone," he repeats, "placed her hand where hands aren't meant to go..."

A grin arises as Lindsay remembers the moment, she had been paying him back for a comment he had just made. Sliding her hand down his body, she places it where it had been the night before and asks, "Are you saying my hand shouldn't be here?"

"I... uh... um... God, that feels good."

"Do you still say that this is my fault, Bobby."

"Yes."

Her hand returns to his shoulder and she asks, "How?"

"Um... what was the last that I said?" Bobby asks.

Lindsay laughs at him, then says, "My hand was in the wrong time zone."

"Oh, yeah, that's right, so, anyway, because of you and your actions, I gave up on adjusting my watch in favour of sticking my tongue in your mouth."

"You're such a sweet talker, Bobby," Lindsay giggles.

"Yeah, so, it wasn't until I got out of the shower and saw the clock in the bathroom that I remembered my watch was wrong, and... that it is all your fault."

"Just eat your breakfast, Egg-breath Boy, I slaved over a hot stove all morning making that for you." Lindsay orders with a smile. She's more than pleased that they have added time, she likes nothing better than when they can take things slow; she does prefer to do everything thoroughly, after all.

Bobby grins and takes the final mouthful of his omelette before pushing that plate aside and reaching for his pancakes. "Want some?" he asks and Lindsay shakes her head. "Good," Bobby says with a grin and picking up the maple syrup, slathers it over the pancake.

Lindsay snorts, "Have some pancake with your syrup, Bobby."

"You eat it your way, I'll eat it mine, Miss You-don't-need-more-than-a -nickel."

Lindsay ignores his gibe, unconcerned, she takes another bite of her cookie, her face bearing an expression of extreme rapture as she does so. Slowly she closes her eyes and emits a long appreciative moan.

Bobby smiles, fully enjoying the show that she is putting on and only a little bit jealous of that damn cookie. "Having fun," he asks.

She hums an affirmative reply and, then, opening her eyes, asks, "Are you?"

"Ooh, yeah," he mouths and allows his hand to slip back inside her robe, seeking out that spot, along her side, whose effects were discovered by him, belong to him.

"Ahhh," she purrs as her eyes close again, this time with a little less forethought. Leaning into his touch, she whispers, "Ooh, Bobby, hurry up and finish your breakfast."

Seeing the wisdom in her request, Bobby turns his attentions back to his pancakes, planning to end this quick so that she can have his undivided attention. As he sizes up his plate, deciding which part of the gooey mess will constitute his first bite, he asks, "So, what's with the cookies, Lindsay?"

Her eyes open and, in a entranced voice, she purrs, "Wait until you taste them, then you'll know."

Bobby looks at the lone cookie still waiting for him and wonders if he should rescue it now or risk having it stolen out from under him. When he looks back up at Lindsay, she smiles and signs a cross over her heart, letting him know that she's read his thoughts and assuring him that she will not touch it. Trusting her not to break her promise, he turns his attention back to his pancake, choosing the juiciest corner and drawing a forkful to his mouth. Before it is safely enclosed, though, some syrup escapes, dripping onto his chin. Bobby reaches to wipe it away but Lindsay stills his hand, leaning forward, her tongue slides out and laps it up while she hums her delight.

"I didn't think that you liked syrup," he whispers, finding the words hard to utter around the groan wanting to escape.

"It all depends on the way it's served," she replies, "This is delicious." When Lindsay pulls back, her eyes say the words, 'I told you so,' just as clearly as if she'd put voice to them.

Bobby grins unrepentantly, although he knows that he'd gone a little overboard with the syrup, he'd done so with purpose - to get an exasperated reaction from Lindsay. So, in truth, he's achieved his aim and had the pleasure of a delightful bonus, a nice little tongue bath, what sort of man would rue that?

Having gotten her message across, Lindsay remains silent on the syrup issue and finishes eating her cookie.

"I don't remember you ever eating them when we were here," Bobby says, "Did I miss it?"

"I didn't eat them, Bobby," Lindsay says, then grins, "Well, obviously I did or how else would I know, what I mean is that I only ate them once. This morning, as I placed our order, I suddenly remembered them and just had to see if they were really as good as I had thought, back then."

"Are they?"

"Ooh, infinitely better I think."

Bobby smiles a little soberly as he wonders exactly how much he had missed when they were last here. "Tell me about them?" he asks, wanting to experience it all now, to finally share that time with her, to see her as she had been, wishing that back then he'd had the sense to look.

"Well, they're round and fluffy and decadent, they have the best chocolate chips..."

Lindsay doesn't get to continue as Bobby is leaning forward, dipping her off of the chair, growling menacingly, "That isn't what I meant!"

Giggling she wraps her arms around his neck, securing herself to him as he rises again. When they are again upright, they grin at one another before she begins talking of the origins of her love affair with the hotel's cookies. "I um... One night I couldn't sleep and I knew that if I tossed and turned any longer, I'd end up waking you... I didn't want that, most nights it was a relief when you'd fall asleep because it was the only time you'd stop glaring at me."

Although her statement is said without malice, Bobby feels the regret, laying down his fork, he raises his hand to rest it against her cheek. Smiling, Lindsay leans into his palm but, also picks up his fork, snags some pancake and places it in his mouth before he can say a word. Message received, he smiles as he chews but his hand lingers, his thumb stroking slowly over her skin, voicing his remorse over his past behaviour. Lindsay places her hand over his and draws it down, enclosing it in hers and resting them in her lap as she again speaks.

"Eat," Lindsay instructs tilting her head towards his plate. As he returns to eating, she continues her reminiscence, "When I came out here, Jimmy was up... If I remember rightly, it was the night before he was to cross examine Dokes, he was too nervous to sleep. Thankfully, his nausea hadn't set in yet, he was just restless. So, we sat out here talking, it was good, relaxing. At one stage he said something about how as a kid his mom had always given him milk and cookies when he couldn't sleep, I asked if it had worked and he said that he couldn't remember. About an hour later, on a whim, I ordered some."

"Did they work?"

"Funnily enough Jimmy did fall asleep, it didn't work for me though. But, looking on the bright side, I did discover the worlds best cookies."

Bobby grins, seduced by the delight on her face. She looks so young today, more so than she has for a long time. Looking at her now, he sees her as she had been when they first met, eager and carefree, but without the reserve that had been between them then. Today she is a delightful mix of the girl who swept him off his feet and the woman that he loves. Lindsay's eyebrow raises, ever higher, as he continues to stare at her, until he realizes what he is doing and looks away.

Lindsay smiles and watches as he takes his final, gluggy, syrupy mouthful of pancake. Her eyes trail over the sticky gleam of his lips, find the tear drop of syrup trapped in the corner of his mouth and, like a moth to a flame, she is drawn to it. Leaning in slowly, she licks it away before running her tongue over his sticky-sweet bottom lip, sighing with delight over the taste. Before she has even sensed they have moved, Bobby's hands are in her hair, holding her to him as their mouths feverishly unite.

Confident that Lindsay is going no where, Bobby's hands release their hold to begin an exploration of her body. Her robe is pushed off of her shoulders, but as she refuses to relinquish her hold on him, it falls only as far as her elbows. His hands are busy adoring her skin, they caress her shoulders, skim past her breasts as they traverse down her sides and come to rest on her hips. The sash on her robe has given in to the inevitable and unravelled completely, baring all to his eager hands. They grip her hips tight as his tongue chases hers back into her mouth, he swallows her moan and offers her his. Hands, needing more, slip over her body, sliding between the velvety-soft bunched robe and her warm satiny skin. No contest for which they prefer, they splay over her back, drawing her closer, their hips shifting until groins are pressed closely together. Their mouths part as pleasure is voiced before joining again with fervour.

Lindsay's hands have burrowed under Bobby's shirt and travel over his back, while his worship hers. Bobby brings one hand forward while the other sets up continuos rhythm over her back; up and down, side to side, constant movement constantly seeking more. His other hand slides up her torso until coming to rest below her breast, his thumb traps an aching nipple against his index finger, it is teased and tweaked to utter distraction as his palm, trapped between their two bodies, presses up into her breast, cupping and kneading, desperate for more.

Needing to breathe their lips part, they puff against one another for a moment before Lindsay leans back, wanting a clearer view of Bobby's face. Her eyes devour his features and her body melts as he smiles at her, his adorably lopsided, I'm-so-turned-on-that-I'm-turned-upside-down grin. She sees something more than his grin today, underneath it she sees something even greater; Impish Bobby. As his smile melts her his mischief inflames her. This is the side of Bobby that she knows the least, that surfaces so rarely but who, when he does appear, never fails to surprise and enrapture her.

Leaning forward Lindsay kisses Bobby's forehead - the home of the mind that she loves so dearly. Feeling the flutter of his eyelashes against her chin, she moves lower and kisses each eyelid in turn. Bobby begins reverently whispering to her but, as she is so intent on her benediction of his face, she barely hears the words. Her lips rest against the bridge of his nose as she whispers, "I love you." Travelling over his face, she registers the contrasts in the skin that her lips caress; his sand-papery jaw, the baby-soft skin around his eyes, his warm sweaty brow, the hard line of his nose leading to the pliant tip and the pillowy softness of his lips, so much contrast in one beautiful man. Lindsay becomes so focussed on kissing Bobby, on the feel of him under her palms, against her body and the sensations that his hand is creating in her that she fails to notice when the other hand leaves her back.

Lindsay hears Bobby urge, "Sit up," and, dragging her lips from him, she straightens her back, pulling herself away from him and looking questioningly at his face. His eyes stare intently at her chest, his hand stops kneading her breast, instead, resting against it, he pulls the skin taut. Lindsay watches his hand, her brow furrowing as she tries to determine his motives. She's about to raise her eyes to his, and ask him what it is that he is doing, when his other hand comes into view. Her mouth opens in surprise as a small breath is released, he won't, she tells herself but can't tear her eyes away to check his eyes for intent. She watches as a syrupy finger inscribes the letter B onto her skin. With a little gasp she looks up to meet his eyes only to see them pointed elsewhere, following his line of sight she watches his finger return to his plate where it again glides along the surface, collecting its sticky residue, before making its way back to her body, this time anointing her other breast with a D.

Task completed, Bobby looks up at her now, a pleased grin adorns his face as he waits to discover her reaction. Lindsay looks from his face back to her body and the brand that he has placed there. When she raises her face back up, she looks at him with an unimpressed countenance. She watches silently as some of his surety fades and, just as his smile is about to disappear completely, she whines, "Please, don't tell me you've named them Betty and Doris?"

Bobby laughs loudly, in relief and amusement, leaning forward he licks the base off of the B turning it into an R. His eyes rise to her in question.

"Ruth, Rikke, ooh, how about Randi?" she asks.

"I'll say," Bobby grins, he begins to lean forward, intending on another taste test but Lindsay raises her hand, placing it on his chest and stopping him.

She smiles when he looks at her, then lowering her hands to his waistband she slowly untucks his shirt before drawing it up and off of him. Once they are free of his shirt, Bobby's hands immediately return to her, resting against her sides as he licks his lips in anticipation.

"Still hungry, Bobby?" Lindsay teases.

Seeing the challenge in her eyes, his hand leaves her side and returns to his plate, collecting more syrup as she half-heartedly reaches out and tries to still his actions. Her hand remains on his wrist as he draws a heart over her chest, then an arrow, leading down her body culminating at her navel. He looks up at her and waggles his eyebrows, his every action signalling his intent to sensuously lick her clean.

Trying not to allow her voice to convey the fact that her body is no longer under her control, Lindsay says, "Weren't you ever taught not to play with food, Bobby?"

"I'm a big boy now, I make my own rules," he growls

As he proceeds to lick her clean, Lindsay can't help but approve of playing by Bobby's 'rules.' There is no one that she'd rather break all the rules with than Bobby, no one else has ever made misbehaving feel so right. Her rebellious relationships of the past pale into insignificance in comparison to the responses that Bobby stirs in her. She'd always desired control in the past, deciding exactly how far she'd let herself go in every situation and fighting not to give more than she was willing to. But with Bobby she can truly let go, do anything, be anyone because if they are doing it together then it has to be right. When together, reason isn't necessary, she can turn her mind off and just get lost in sensation, let herself feel, let herself be. The sense of freedom that this evokes in her is one of the aspects that she treasures the most about their relationship, that with him she can, and does, feel how wonderful life is.

Lindsay's hands move from Bobby's shoulders to brace his head and lead his face to hers. Her eyes tell him that the line has been reached, that it is time for more, that she needs him, all of him, now. Their lips meet and meld, their bodies press tightly against one another as they embrace, seeking more, always more.

"Please, now," Lindsay whispers as they slowly pull apart.

"Hold me," Bobby says and Lindsay hums an agreement as she tightens her grip on his shoulders. Grasping Lindsay's hips to hold her to him, Bobby slowly slides from the chair until he's kneeling on the floor. Once stable, he gently lowers Lindsay until she's laying down and he's perched on all fours hovering over her. His eyes roam over her, he knows that he wants it all but, as every single part of her is his favorite, he is undecided where to start from.

Lindsay's hands slide from Bobby's shoulders to trail down over his chest, pausing to flick over his nipples before skimming lower in search of his waistband. As she starts to unbutton his jeans, she smiles and whispers, "Can Jack come out and play?"

"Jack?" Bobby laughs, bending his elbows so that he is leaning on his forearms, his hands framing her head as his body lowers towards her.

"Yeah, because like a jackhammer he just keeps pounding and pounding and pounding."

"It's good to know that the romance of the moment isn't lost on you," he teases, nipping at her neck.

"Romance comes from here," she says placing her hand over his heart, "And from here," she lifts his head up so that she can kiss his forehead, she smiles at him and adds, "Romance is not Jack's department, he's single-minded and I love that about him."

"Jack wants to play," Bobby moans, his gravely voice illustrating just how eager 'Jack' is, especially now that Lindsay's hand has snuck into his jeans and issued a personal invitation.

"Good," she whispers, "Because I need him." Knowing that the time for playing has come to an end, Bobby lowers his body against hers as they seal their agreement with a long unhurried kiss. When that kiss breaks and he begins moving his lips over her neck, Lindsay pleads, "Jeans. Off. Now."

Although it involves breaking their current, and very enjoyable, contact, Bobby can see that there is merit in such an action and raises onto his knees to begin working the remainder of his clothing off. No sooner have his hands reached his waistband, then the phone begins to ring. He looks down at Lindsay and asks, "Did you tell?"

"No," she says, "You?"

"No."

Bobby looks across at the table, to where the offending object is obnoxiously lying, and then back to Lindsay again. He knows which of the two pressing matters he wants to give his full attention to but duty-over-desire is a hard habit to break. After a long, lingering, hope-they-hang-up-before-I'm-done kiss Bobby whispers into Lindsay's ear, "Hold that lust," before lifting his body from hers.

Lindsay groans at the loss of him, implores him to, "Hurry," and closes her eyes as she tries to bring her body back under control not wanting to get too far ahead of him. Bobby kneels and rests back on his heels as he reaches for the phone. His harsh greeting even makes Lindsay jump, opening her eyes and seeing the annoyance on Bobby's face, she is sure that whoever is on the other end of the line will be requiring trauma counselling by the time the conversation is over.

Lindsay knows that their fun is over when Bobby winces and she slowly sits up; Bobby raises enough to give her the room to slide out from under him. She briefly considers wrapping the robe around herself until she recalls how sticky she must be, so, leaving it where it is, she walks to the bedroom. Looking back over her shoulder, she smiles as Bobby's hungry eyes watch her every move. As she reaches the bedroom door, she hears Bobby say that he'll be down in five minutes before he heavily hangs up the phone. Walking straight to their en suite, she begins filling the basin with warm soapy water, knowing that Bobby will need to clean up before he can go anywhere.

"Rental's arrived and they need me to go down and sign for it," Bobby says, entering the bathroom.

Lindsay can't help smiling at him and the state that he is in. She's pleased that it isn't her who is required to go out in public, not only does she fear that she may be slightly hostile towards those who saw fit to interrupt them but she isn't even certain that she could sign her name, should she be required to. Seeing her grin, Bobby shakes his head with a semi-amused huff, stepping towards the basin, he mumbles, "That had better be ice cold."

Lindsay dips a cloth in then raising it, squeezes out the excess water before swiping it over Bobby's chest, trying to rid him of the syrup that is quite happily residing there. It stubbornly resists her efforts and, looking up at him, she says, "See, maybe grown-ups are right when they say don't play with food it will only lead to trouble."

Bobby nods, his eyes smiling at her as they have been all morning; no matter what emotion he's tried to convey he hasn't been able to remove the joy from his eyes. She shares his excitement and a little amazed disbelief that they are actually on a vacation. Raising his hand, Bobby rests his palm over Lindsay's cheek and slowly leans in to capture her lips. They tenderly kiss as she continues to bathe him, until Bobby concludes that kissing her, as her hands stoke over him so enticingly, is probably not a wise thing to do when he is trying to will his body to calm down. Realizing that he is only asking for more trouble, he pulls out of the kiss; taking the cloth from her he completes the task in a far less pleasurable fashion. When he is done, he picks up his toothbrush while Lindsay reaches for the discarded cloth; she give herself a cursory wipe down, attempting to be syrup-free before her shower.

The finality of Bobby cleaning his teeth, alerts Lindsay to the fact that she is about to lose him, albeit only for the small length of time that she's showering - and, with incentive, she can do that quite quickly. Still, she feels a tinge of remorse at the thought of him leaving; considering how close they'd expected to be right now, any separation is abhorrent. Lindsay steps close and wraps her arms around him, hugging him with her chest against his warm back. As he's bent forward, towards the basin, she gets a fairly clear view, from over his shoulder, of his reflection in the mirror. The face that she sees there is the one that is supposed to be reserved for her eyes only; she isn't pleased at the thought of an aroused Bobby venturing out without her. He's irresistible like this, exudes pheromones, sex-on-a-stick, a walking orgasm and too too attractive for words. How could she ever let this man out of her sight? How could she even consider letting him roam unprotected? She wants to grab a magic marker and write, 'Property of Lindsay Dole,' on his forehead before anyone can see him and get other ideas.

"What are you thinking?" Bobby asks.

Lindsay realizes that she'd zoned out so much that she hadn't noticed when Bobby finished brushing his teeth. She sees by the expression in his eyes that he's enjoying her embrace and is amused by her distraction. Smiling, she kisses his shoulder before allowing her hand to slide down his body until she's cupping him; he moans a little at her touch, his shoulders leaning into her body while his hips pitch towards her hand. He whispers her name and she feels him pulse against her palm, her fingers caress him as she looks into his reflected eyes and says, "I was thinking that you shouldn't tuck your T-shirt in, or better still, wear a long shirt instead..."

"God, you're not helping," Bobby says, grabbing her hand and regretfully prying it off of him, while she suggests that he wears an overcoat. He spins around so that they are standing face to face and her tease is silenced by the vibrancy of his eyes; looking into them she realizes that not even a reflection can do justice to their power. He smiles at her sudden breathlessness, nuzzling against her, he says, "I'll be quick, then I'll meet you back here in the shower."

Lindsay grins, remembering the occurrences of the night before and this mornings fleeting wish to recreate it. Although sleepiness had prevented her from doing so earlier, she's awake and ready for him now, she's tempted to agree to this plan; boy is she tempted, but, as uncomfortable and unfulfilled as she feels right now, she finds the idea of further delay to be somewhat more enticing than satisfaction. She doesn't look into his eyes, knowing that doing so will only change her mind, instead, she peppers kisses across his skin as she says, "Or, we could both hurry, checkout immediately, arrive sooner, and then, when there, with no further need to rush, pick up where we left off, taking as long as we want, all day, all night, whatever we want."

"I hate to admit it," Bobby groans, "And Jack is fiercely protesting the thought, but, I agree, that is a much better idea."

"So, go!" she tells him trying to turn him around and send him on his way. With one last quick kiss, he complies.

As Lindsay's adjusting the temperature of the shower, Bobby reappears in the doorway saying, "Last chance to change your mind."

Lindsay looks over at him and can't help grinning that he's gone for a long button through shirt. "Go!" she says.

"You sure?" he asks, "If need be, we could be persuaded to join you."

"I'll be fine," Lindsay says stepping under the water's spray, "I'll just let the water running over me soothe this vasocongestive distress."

Bobby groans at the image of her wet and naked that's now imprinted in his mind and, turning, hurries out of the room while he still has the ability to tear himself away. As she showers, Lindsay wonders if he'll stick to the plan or rush back and make a repeat unexpected appearance in her shower. Whichever it is, she'll offer no complaint, she's happy to just relax and let whatever will be, be. She can almost feel his hands roaming over her as the water caresses her skin and the sensation does nothing to help assuage her unresolved need, if anything, it is only making her crave his touch even more, heightening her frustration. Hurrying through her ritual, she quickly finishes her shower, eager to get them on their way.

When Bobby comes bursting through the door, she notes a flash of disappointment crosses his face upon seeing her out of the shower and in the process of dressing. She knows the instant that his mind moves from plan A to B as he suddenly throws all of his energy into getting their bags packed and into the car. His infuriating bustle is reminiscent of the way he'd been upon awakening this morning, ordering her to hurry as he sprints back and forth. If she wasn't so turned on, she'd probably resent his tone, luckily for him, though, right now, she finds it to be one of his many charms. There is nothing like arousal for skewing with your perceptions. Love might be blind but lust is mind altering, how else can you explain that one intense look from Bobby can turn her instantly rabid?

~~~~~~~

"Vasocongestive distress, Lindsay?" Bobby asks as they wait to pull out of the car park into the steady stream of traffic.

Lindsay grins, wondering if Bobby has been pondering over that question all of this time, "Arousal, Bobby."

"Ahhh, that explains why I got turned on just hearing you say it."

"Oh, so it had nothing to do with the fact that I was naked at the time?"

"Nah," Bobby drawls, all the while, looking over to her and allowing his eyes to appreciatively roam the full length of her body.

Lindsay feels the color rise in her cheeks; it isn't unusual for them to talk about sex, to tease and flirt before, during and after but it's normally reserved for moments when sex is a prospect. Now, in this car, with no possibility of more than just talk, Lindsay finds that flirting is giving her more of a thrill than usual. Talking of love when she can use nothing other than words, is making her feel decadent, mischievous, alive. Then again, maybe this feeling has nothing to do with their conversation and everything to do with their destination - whatever the reason, she is loving it. With the freedom it offers her, she finds herself confessing something that she has never told Bobby before. Hopefully, this will be the first of many such conversations.

As they finally get a break, and pull into the traffic, she says, "In college, I dated a medical student."

"Really?" Bobby's honeyed tone replies.

She hears the question both in relation to her statement and querying the fact that she's brought it up. They speak so rarely of their pasts and that's something that she would like to change, maybe if he knows her full story he'll understand better why he's so wonderful for her and why she struggles, so often, to believe in their relationship, in their future.

"We were together for, um... just over a month, I guess, but before that..." she lets out a slow audible breath, "From the moment I met him I was instantly infatuated with him, it was probably the first relationship that I chased and didn't just fall into. I was awed by his brilliance, his polysyllabic words, his superior air, he just exuded intelligence." She pauses, smiling over the dreams of her younger self.

"And?" Bobby says, to coax more from her when her silence threatens to be never ending.

Lindsay smiles and says, "We were a lot alike..." When Bobby laughs, Lindsay looks across and asks, "What?"

"Modest much, Linds?" he teases.

"Oh," she laughs, "No, I didn't mean it like that, I meant our personalities, our habits, we were both so focussed on our studies, our ambitions," she laughs again, "I wasn't suggesting I was on a par with him..."

"Lindsay, you are brilliant..." Bobby begins to ensure her but she smiles and rubs his leg, assuring him in return that it is unnecessary.

When he nods, showing her that her message is received, to bait him she adds, "Mind you, Bobby, a lot of things that I've done would refute that."

Taking the bite, hook line and sinker, he says, "Yeah, well, you can be brilliant without being smart."

"Thank you, Bobby," she pouts.

Grinning, he adds, "Not that I'm suggesting that ~you~ aren't smart, you... you're smart, you're brilliant, you're beautiful, you're the greatest woman on this earth, you're..."

Lindsay is thankfully that they stop at traffic lights and she is able to lean over and silence him with her lips before he spends the rest of the trip listing her attributes, not that that would be too much of a hardship, it is why she'd started that fishing trip in the first place, but, now, she has a story to tell, so she needs Bobby to be quiet so that she can talk.

Bobby's smiling when they pull apart and Lindsay knows that he is onto her game but she doesn't particularly care as he sometimes does it too. It isn't that they need to play games to entice compliments from one another, for they are given freely and often, it's just that it's fun doing so. The car behind them blasts its horn, signalling that the light has changed, and, with amused grins, they return their attentions to the road.

Lindsay is barely back in her seat before Bobby says, "I mean, take Joey Heric, for example..."

She turns to him quickly, "I would ~not~ be comparing me to Joey Heric, if I was you."

"No! No, I wasn't, I was just going to say..."

"I'd quit while you are ahead, Bobby."

Bobby laughs as he asks, "Am I ahead?"

In truth, she believes him to be so far ahead that she is barely even in the race, but, why tell him that? Grinning, Lindsay says, "I sincerely doubt it, but..."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm quitting," Bobby says returning her grin. When Lindsay looks away, Bobby takes the moments delay that it will require for her to look back to offer an explanation of his previous comments, "I was in no way comparing you two, I was just going to point out that Joey is supposedly a genius but, for all of his brilliance, he's just an idiot."

Lindsay looks at him sternly, not because of any aversion over what he is saying but because that is the way that the game is played. She gave an order and he ignored it, that requires making him squirm.

Squirm he does, "So, I guess that if I was making a comparison, which I wasn't, then I'd be putting you on the opposite end of the scale to him, you are brilliant and smart, so, even if I was comparing, I wasn't because you are opposites, no comparison..."

"Bobby!" she warns, struggling to maintain a stern facade.

"Okay, I'm stopping."

"Good, because a back hoe is never going to fit in this car."

"I didn't just dig myself deeper?" he says, sure that he must have gained not lost some ground; the argument had been entirely convincing in his head.

Lindsay looks across at him with a raised eyebrow and Bobby looks ahead, replaying the conversation in his mind, just to verify if he had been in error or if he's now being had. As the traffic again begins moving, Bobby realises that it had been the latter. Buying himself some time to think up a comeback plan, he asks, "That breakfast wasn't a condemned man's last meal was it? You're not about to tell me that you're running off with Wonder Doc are you?"

"God, no!" Lindsay groans dramatically.

"That bad?" Bobby grins, relieved that this maybe one boyfriend he need not be jealous of.

Lindsay smiles, "He was nice enough, but God, he was no where near what I had imagined he'd be like..."

"And me?"

"You're so far off the scale that it's beyond comprehension."

Bobby laughs, then is thoughtful for a moment, his brow furrows and he asks, "That's a good thing, right?"

"Bobby," she sighs, amused, "You really have to ask?"

He shakes his head that he doesn't, then smugly says, "So, I'm better than the doc?"

"His knowledge of anatomy didn't surpass the clinical use, honestly, Bobby, I was never sure if we were engaged in foreplay or a pelvic exam." Bobby's laughter spurs her on to elaborate, "To be honest for the first few weeks I wasn't sure if we were dating or just study partners. He never kissed me..."

"Never?"

"Not never, never. He'd kiss me hello and good bye but he'd never just kiss me for no reason. We'd spend hours together and he'd never just lean over and kiss me because he just wanted to."

As they are driving, Bobby doesn't have the opportunity to do so now, but he reaches for her hand and raises it to his lips.

Lindsay smiles, "It didn't take long for me to realize that unfortunately he was nothing like the myth that I had created in my head. I was trying to get the nerve to break it off with him when he rolls up one day and says that we've been together for three weeks and we should probably have sex now."

"Romantic."

"Very," Lindsay laughs, "It felt like we were on some time schedule but I gave him the benefit of the doubt, hoping that maybe he was just shy, that after we'd taken this step he'd relax around me more and it could be like I had anticipated."

"Did he?"

"You know how they say that the third time is a charm? Well, I fell asleep during, that's when I decided to cut my losses." Bobby looks at her, his eyes disbelieving, until she nods that, sadly, yes it was so.

"Um... I don't know what to say to that," he laughs.

"The mystique of the medical profession was well and truly dispelled after that, I'll leave the doctor chasing to Helen. Thankfully, I now have a thing for crotchety old lawyers anyway."

"Watch who you are calling old, missy," Bobby warns from beneath his grin.

"Yes, sir."

"So, was he... uh... your first?" Bobby asks, a little surprised to be asking the question.

"Thankfully, no," Lindsay laughs, "What a terrible initiation that would have been."

"So, your first? It was good?"

Lindsay pauses, unsure what to say, not really wanting to get into this conversation and all of its implications now. She looks across at Bobby, hoping to gauge how much he really wants the answer but, as she does so, the answer comes to her. "It was okay, he was fine but... he was no Bobby Donnell, that's for sure!"

"Yeah, I'm one of a kind," Bobby grins, unable to look across at her because of the traffic but Lindsay sees it anyway.

"You're every mother's worst nightmare," she says, remembering her Bad-boy Bobby thoughts from this morning.

"Me?" Bobby asks surprised. When Lindsay nods with a knowing smile, he asks, "Why?"

"Take my little medical friend," Lindsay says.

"Just because you don't want him, don't dump him on me," Bobby teases.

"Do you want me to continue?" she asks, grinning.

Bobby nods, he'd far rather she keep talking about him, because she can't just make a claim like that and leave it unexplained, but he's willing to give her a little leeway.

"He is every mother's dream son-in-law. On paper, he is quite perfect; he is good-looking, intelligent, hard working, has good prospects, is charming but not in a smarmy way..."

"I uh..." Bobby interrupts then stops. When Lindsay turns to him, waiting to hear what he had been going to say, he shrugs and uncertainly says, "I... uh... Don't I have all of that?"

"And more!" Lindsay assures him, "But therein lies the problem, he was perfect because, in fact, he was so tame. But you, you're dangerous, you're all that and a heartbreaker too..."

"Lindsay," he interrupts again but Lindsay continues talking, running her hand over his leg comfortingly as she does.

"I don't mean intentionally, Bobby, you're a good man, a kind man, you don't deliberately break hearts, what I mean is that when a girl falls for you, she falls hard. Parents see that and it scares them, they see the potential for danger watching their daughter love so intensely, so irrevocably. They then have to trust in her judgement, trust that love hasn't blinded her. Although they may not have yet had the chance to learn who he is, they know that he's her life choice and have to depend on him not to destroy that, they have to trust in an integrity that they don't know exists."

"Is that... do your parents...?"

"They were concerned at first, I mean, from their perspective, Bobby, this all happened so quickly. In terms of how long we'd been dating, our becoming engaged so quickly seems like a whirlwind romance. What they don't realize is that there has been something between us from the day we met..."

"Yeah," Bobby says wistfully, sure it has taken them a long time to get to this point but he can't deny that they had an immediate connection. He should have known the confirmed bachelor life was lost when in her first week she was already ordering him around like a wife. He chuckles to himself, knowing that he's been henpecked by her from the start and he loves that he has.

"What?" Lindsay asks, wanting to be let in on the joke.

"Nothing," Bobby replies, then, knowing that the best way to stop her prying is to keep her talking, he asks, "So, your parents, they... they like me?"

"My mom adores you," Lindsay says, smiling, "She's always talking about you..."

"Really?" Bobby asks, doubtfully.

"Well..." Lindsay pauses and a slight flush runs over her cheeks, "Maybe it's me who's always talking about you to her."

"Really?" he says, his tone expressing how much he loves that idea.

"There aren't too many unconnected people that I can talk about you to, I guess, I enjoy talking about you to someone who doesn't really know you."

"Do you... talk about... you know?"

"Do you really want to know that, Bobby?" she asks looking across at him.

He pauses, giving it consideration, then shakes his head as he says, "No."

Lindsay grins, she's close to her mother but not ~that~ close. Unless Bobby presses for an answer, though, she'll leave him wondering, curious to see if he blushes next time that he's face to face with her mother.

"I wasn't sure that she liked me?"

"Why would you think that?"

He winces a little, then says, "I heard her calling me That Bobby once."

Lindsay laughs and Bobby looks across at her surprised. He watches a blush spread over her face and, curious, asks, "What is it?"

"She wouldn't have been calling you That Bobby..."

"That's what I heard..."

"I believe you, when was this?"

"Um, one time when you were meeting her for lunch, at the last minute you dragged me along, I got a phone call so you went in ahead of me. I heard her say that when I came in but then the waitress spoke to me and I didn't hear anything else."

"Did she seem disappointed when you arrived?"

Thinking back, Bobby shakes his head no.

"Bobby, whenever we meet now, the first thing that my Mom says to me is, 'Tell me all about that Bobby of yours.' Does that let you know you how much I talk about you? And trust me, she's enthralled by every word."

Bobby grins, liking this explanation a lot. Lindsay, however, is still a little embarrassed about the revelation so, to distract him from pressing further on the subject, she says, "I could have killed my father last week."

"Why?" Bobby laughs.

"He was telling me about some friend of his who is having trouble with a neighbour. Apparently, it has gotten to the point where he's considering getting legal advice, so, my dad turns to me and says, 'Maybe I should get him to call Bobby, see what he can suggest.' Then he looked at me proudly, having no idea that he'd said anything wrong."

Bobby laughs, and asks, "So, what was your reply? What am I a pineapple?"

Lindsay gives him a playful slap and a grin, knowing that he is never going to let her forget that comment. She isn't sure that she believes him when he says that her pineapple comment had been the moment when he'd decided to stop fighting his love for her. She's looked over that time in detail and, although she admits that the partnership hostilities between them hadn't arisen since, she believes that it is more as a result of what had occurred a month earlier when she had met his dad. He'd allowed himself to cry in her arms that day, and maybe, maybe the comfort that he had derived from her had forced the door he had closed tight to reopen a little. In hindsight, she has come to accept that Bobby had courted her for many months before the fact had become clear to her. It surprises her sometimes that they managed to get together, only Bobby could win a woman with an unspoken courtship. And, only Bobby could keep that woman when he continues to torment her mercilessly.

He teases her about her pineapple comment all the time, every chance that he gets, knowing that it delights and exasperates her. She'd threatened to leave him the first time he had called her Pineapple as a pet name; the fact that her body was wrapped around his at the time obviously made the threat carry no weight as it didn't curb his usage of it. He sneakily manages to use it whenever he wants to goad a reaction from her. She normally counters it by calling him Grandpa, which of course then sets him on a mission to prove his youth and vitality. Reconsidering, maybe she does like it when he calls her Pineapple, it certainly does set in motion an enticing chain of events.

Lindsay smiles remembering one night, after some tipsy silliness, making him sign a contract that he wouldn't have it engraved on her tombstone. She's kept it in her box of treasures, in a way, she looks on it as a love letter and has kept it along with all his other elegant, poetic, love notes. She understands Bobby-speak, knows that she doesn't need the exact words to read the message; she treasures his seemingly inconsequential scrawls that, through subtext, are a joy for her to read. 'I had to pop upstairs to fix a fuse for Mrs Marek. Don't eat all the pizza.' 'Your idiot friend called, tell her you're standing her up for a better offer. Ps. In case you're wondering, I'm the offer.'

Her personal favorite, the one that she's never admitted had actually brought a tear to her eye, is, 'Did you remember milk? Because I didn't, again, sorry, I'll pick some up on the way home unless you call to say you've got it. Actually, call anyway - I need to hear your voice.'

She'd been heavily involved in a trial when that note had been received. The stress of the trial had taken its toll the night before when she'd blown up at Bobby for not picking up milk on his way home from work. His schedule was light and it had angered her that he'd not done this small thing that she'd asked of him. They'd argued, blowing the incident all out of proportion and then spent the rest of the night in tense silence. She'd left for court again and, having had another terrible day, had come home feeling worn out and depressed. She'd known that Bobby had a late meeting and was surprised to have seen that he'd come home, knowing that the only reason he would have popped in would have been on the off chance that he'd see her.

The fact that she must have missed him by mere minutes was representative of the manner of her day. As she'd opened the note, she'd been pleased by the fact that he'd tried to see her before his meeting, but as she'd read it, her pleasure had transformed into absolute delight. For Bobby to have put such a request down on paper spoke volumes of the extent of his need. Although he's never been averse in telling her that he loves her, he'd never written it so clearly before. The spoken word comes and goes but the written has a permanency about it that is as frightening as it is gratifying. She'd sat there staring at the words, the frustration and antagonism that she'd carried with her all day had melted away, replaced by overwhelming love.

She'd called him as soon as she'd had time to sit and embrace the emotion coiling through her. He didn't have the time to chat but, enjoying the sound of her voice, he'd been reluctant to hang up the phone. Sensing his lack of urgency, Lindsay had taken charge, she'd told him to forget the milk and just get himself home as soon as he could, that she was hanging up because in doing so she'd see him quicker and that she loved him and would show him how much when he was again in her arms. His meeting was probably his quickest in history, when he'd arrived home, so soon after her call, as his business partner she should have chided him on his unprofessionalism but, as his lover, she'd offered only complete approval.

"What is it?" Bobby asks, breaking into her musings.

This time it is Lindsay who offers the old, 'it's nothing,' head shake. Remembering the conversation that they'd been having, before she'd become lost in dreams, she says, "I let it slide because I think that it was Dad's way of telling me that... uh... that he accepts you... that he looks on you as one of us now... you know, that out of the blue he'd call you up for advice, no big deal. Kinda like, if you were a mechanic, he'd have something going on with his car that he'd suggest he needed to talk to you about."

Bobby nods, then, slyly looking across, he asks, "So, do you have a thing for mechanics that I should know about, Lindsay?"

She shakes her head at him in mock annoyance and looks out the window at the stalled traffic. God, are they ever going to get out of the city, they've been driving for twenty minutes and have barely covered any distance. "I have a thing for Bobby Donnells," she says quietly and turns back in time to catch his pleased grin.

"You know what, Linds?" he says as the car begins to move.

"What?"

"You say that I'm crotchety and old," he shoots her a disapproving look that makes her grin with delight, then adds dramatically, "But I get the distinct impression that you like me."

Lindsay gives a little laugh, before looking out the window again, mumbling, "And here I was trying to be subtle."

Bobby smiles but, triggered by her comment about being subtle, a thought enters his mind and his smile slowly fades away. They travel in silence for a moment, but when again brought to a halt by the congestion, he says, "Lindsay, can I please ask you a question?"

"No, Bobby, you cannot," she earnestly replies, then laughs at his surprised expression. Reaching out and patting his thigh, she says, "You just sounded so formal that I couldn't help myself."

With a half-hearted smile, he turns his face back to the stationary car in front of them. His fingers drum on the steering wheel as he silently stares ahead.

Trying to return the levity to the conversation, Lindsay says, "We're on vacation, Bobby, it should be something like, 'Hey Linds?'"

"Hey Linds?" he quietly says, with no frivolity in his approach.

"Yeah," she replies, becoming uneasy. When Bobby turns and looks at her again, she sees that he, too, is nervous about something and feels guilty for having teased him. As much as she had been enjoying their conversation, she had also been feeling the need to slow it down, the need to regain a little control. In teasing him, she had been trying to cover her own nervousness, it hadn't occurred to her that, in doing so, she would be adding to his. "I'm sorry, Bobby," she says, "What is it that you wanted to ask?"

Bobby takes a long breath, which makes Lindsay sober up even more as she realises that it is something he is finding hard to say. Suspecting that he'd probably taken a while to gain the nerve to approach her, only to then have her ridicule his attempt Lindsay becomes angry at herself. Bobby had been so accepting of everything that she'd said but when he tries to make conversation, she turns him away. She's afraid that perhaps she has done this before, that the reason he doesn't often approach her is that she rejects him when he does. She wants to reach out now and assure him that she wants to hear all that he says, that she will listen to him, but, not wanting to crowd him, she waits in silence for him to find the courage to again speak. Her disappointment in herself growing with each additional second it takes.

"Last night," Bobby begins hesitantly, "when you... when you said that you were cold, except you weren't, has that happened before?"

"Have I said that I'm cold when I'm not before?" Lindsay asks, surprised and hoping that she isn't hearing the question that she fears she is hearing.

"No," he sighs, a little frustrated that she is going to make him spell it out when he knows that she understands the real question. "Have you said something to me, in the past, because you know that I'll react in a certain way rather than just tell me what you really want?" When Lindsay remains silent, Bobby's frustration wins out and he asks, "Why couldn't you just tell me that you wanted to be held?"

"That's two questions," Lindsay says, turning away from him. She can't believe the sudden change in the conversation, talk about a speedy mood reversal. Here she'd been trying to open up to him, trying to tell him how important he is to her, trying to make good on the resolve that she'd made last night to let him in more and to make it abundantly clear to him how in love with him she is, but, either she's going about it all wrong or he just doesn't want to hear it. There is a big difference between opening up to someone or having that person pry their way in. Although Lindsay had been determined to tell all, she'd planned doing so under her terms. The subject that Bobby has just raised is not one that she's currently prepared to discuss, it is one that is still held a little too close to her guarded heart.

She feels hurt that Bobby has listened to her but made no reply to the admissions that she's made, that, instead, he's chosen to challenge her about something that occurred the previous night. As resentment rises, she tells herself that she shouldn't be surprised by this, that it isn't like he hasn't done this sort of thing before. She's poured her heart to him once only to then have him turn her away. After her disastrous request for a partnership, she'd told him that she loved him; he hadn't responded that night, but the next, she'd gone to him in the hope that time had given him the ability to see clearer, had given him the chance to decide what he wanted.

She'd stood before him and offered herself, body and soul, not in those exact words but he heard her true offer. She saw it in his eye's that he knew exactly what she was saying; he knew, too, how much courage it had taken for her to say those words. He knew and he turned her down, made it crystal clear that their relationship from then on would be purely profession. He'd knowingly broken her heart. She'd been younger then and more willing to take risks, naive enough to believe that love would conquer all, that it could override pain. She may not be as certain of that anymore, as much as she wants to believe in love, she sometimes feels that pain and fear are what really wins each day, at least for her.

As much as she doesn't believe it is true, Lindsay can't help wondering if what she's said today has meant nothing to him. Hurting, she retreats into silence.

Still receiving no answer from her, Bobby adds acrimoniously, "Here's a third, why can't you ever be honest with me?"

"Maybe, because when I am you just completely disregard it," she hits back, feeling defensive she has typically gone into attack mode

"What? When?" Bobby asks, ready to refute her claim.

"How about now!" Lindsay declares.

Bobby looks at her in disbelief until realization dawns, "Is that what you think I'm doing?" When she merely turns and looks out the window he sees the dejection in her body language and gets his answer. "Shit, Lindsay, I heard you... I'm sorry, I... I'm just trying to make sense of it all."

"What is there to make sense of?" she asks not looking his way.

His voice is more gentle when he says, "The mixed signals... and miscommunications... why we are never on the same page."

She recognizes that voice, it is his apology voice, although he may not always say the word sorry she has come to recognize it in that tone. Although she had been furious at him, hearing his apology hurts her because she realizes that, this time, she may have been the one in the wrong. Only last night she had berated herself, for giving him mixed signals, for camouflaging the truth and talking in riddles. She admits, to herself, that she has to concede he has a reason to be confused today. Maybe she had been coming on too strong, maybe he has such low expectations that it disconcerted him to hear her speak honestly and it has left him wondering what deception she is implementing now. His questions had been valid, she had been actively deceiving him and he has a right to know why.

He shouldn't be apologizing for asking these questions, but then, in this relationship, Bobby is always the one who apologizes. While she buries her hurt and broods, giving him the cold shoulder, at the end of the day he likes to shrug things off and move on, and will come to her to initiate reconciliation. She sees the bravery in this act, that he has the courage to approach he whilst unsure of the reception he'll receive. It is a courage that she lacks having been burned too hard the last time that she did, years later, his rejection still stings. Believing in his love, she'd opened herself to him only to be turned away, once bitten twice shy, she now waits for him to come to her.

Lindsay realizes that she has to forgive him, she can't continually punish him for having once turned her away. He is a different person now, as is she, and she has to get past this, it is unfair of her to always expect him to make the first move. She'd stunned him last night by making the first move, she'd seen it in his eyes that he couldn't believe she had come to him with an apology. He'd looked at her and asked, "You?" with such disbelief. It hadn't occurred to her then but she sees now how wrong that is, this is something that he should expect from her, he shouldn't take it on himself to always smooth the way.

The frightening thing is, if she is completely honest with herself, had they been at home when they had had that argument, she cannot guarantee that she would have acted that way. Would she have still been there with him had she had an alternative, would she have stayed long enough to acknowledge that she was in error had she had someplace else to go? No, she has been taking the cowards way out, running away, for so long now that it is her first instinct in every situation. She realizes now that her habit of running first and thinking later means that she often leaves after a perceived attack instead of taking the time to see if there is merit in what he has to say. No wonder he's so hesitant to speak of anything personal, he's never sure that she'll hang around long enough to hear what he has to say. Well, no more. It is time that she started facing her emotions, good and bad, it is time that she starts expecting of herself what she expects from Bobby. It is time that she starts acting like the strong one, approaching him, admitting her errors, opening herself to him and taking the risk of getting hurt. She will no longer wait for confirmation that all is forgiven before she has her say.

She realises that in having always waited for him to come to her, she has perpetuated the myth that she is able to walk away from him, no regrets. No wonder he has no faith in her commitment to their relationship. This has to change. She needs to show him that she won't give up on him, needs him to know that her heart can't be whole without him, that though she knows that, at times, she'll be hurt and that they'll have hard times to weather, she wants to weather them with him. She trusts him with her heart and knows that she needs to show him that. She needs to offer it to him while it is still raw, needs to risk his rejection, risk further pain to show him that there is nothing that she won't do to keep them together.

As usual he has made the first move towards reconciliation, but this time she won't let him just smooth things away, she'll face the conversation and hopefully clear his doubts. Turning to him, Lindsay asks, "What is it that you wanted to ask me, Bobby?"

Bobby pauses a little, then, deciding that she is mad enough at him that he may as well just come straight out and ask the real question, instead of again trying to skirt around the issue, he says, "Last night, you told me that you were cold, when what you actually wanted was to be held. I'm wondering... if it has happened before, if, in the past, you have asked me for an alternative rather than what you really want... if that is something that you do often... I guess... I was wondering... if... maybe..." he pauses shaking his head in annoyance with himself. He is an eloquent verbose man until faced with a conversation with Lindsay, then he's a tongue tied schoolboy. Taking a deep breath he finds the courage to ask the question that is plaguing him, "I'm wondering if the reason that you'd thought I was losing interest... could have been... maybe, because you'd been asking for sex, not directly, but through things that you'd hoped would lead us there... and because they hadn't, because I didn't know what you were really asking... because in those instances I hadn't responded how you had hoped..."

"That's what you've come up with?" Lindsay says, shaking her head in disbelief. His noncommittal shrug offers her no comfort, and, in reaction to her unease, she views the situation with the worst possible spin, "So that's what last night was? You suddenly worked out that every word I say means that I want sex, so you gave it to me?"

"Do you honestly think that?" Bobby asks, shaking his head incredulously.

"I don't know what to believe," she answers. She doesn't believe it, but what scares her is that she isn't sure why, is the reason because it isn't true or because she can't bring herself to believe it.

Bobby eyes hit her hard with their horror at her conclusion. She sees it again, her defensiveness is causing him pain. She is so ready to fight with him, to defend herself that his every approach is seen as an attack, whether justifiably so or not. She realizes that he's merely trying to sort through an impasse in their relationship but, instead of meeting him half way, instead of working through this together as she keeps claiming she wants to do, she's lashing out at him for even trying. Her first reaction is to hurt him and then she takes into consideration what he has said. She has resolved to no longer instinctively lash out, to work hard at eliminating the miscommunications and to be honest with him, she wants that for them, she really does, but wanting it doesn't make it an easy transition to make. She's trying but failing, and fear that this is something that she's incapable of achieving makes her wary of trying again but she has to because she knows that she can't keep hurting him this way..

Pushing her fear away, she whispers, "I don't believe it," hoping that it isn't too late to tell him so.

Bobby quietly says, "You were in my arms, we were kissing, I love you and all I was thinking, at that moment, was how much I wanted you, was how I wanted to feel more... I was so happy to be there with you and... I made love to you last night because I wanted to show you how much I love you... because I wanted to be loved by you... I thought... I believed that you wanted me too..." he doesn't bother to conceal the hurt in his voice that he now fears she hadn't.

"I did, I do," Lindsay assures him. Bobby doesn't look at her and she can see, by the set of his jaw, that he doubts her and that it hurts him that he does. Bobby swears as they almost get sideswiped by a lane jumper. Seeing him begin to take his aggression out in his driving, Lindsay warningly gasps, "Bobby!"

"What!" he growls, then swears again as the car in front suddenly brakes.

"Bobby!" Lindsay shouts, grabbing the dashboard as he slams on the brakes. When their car stops barely an inch from the one in front, she says, "I don't think we should talk about this now. Can we agree not to fight until there's less chance of you getting us killed?" She knows that her tone is probably more shrill than necessary but she's truly unnerved by what just occurred. She knows that she couldn't possibly drive while feeling this emotional, if Bobby is feeling a half of what she is then it really is too dangerous to continue.

"Fine," Bobby replies, a little too shaken to argue. He leans over to switch on the radio, angry at her, angry at himself for not having left well enough alone and angry that their vacation has, most likely, been ruined before they've even gotten started.

The last person to hire the car either had a hearing problem or was trying to ensure that they would have one in the future. Bobby and Lindsay's hands collide as they both reach to adjust the volume. His hand knocks hers away as he hits the off button, returning the car to silence, then lands back on the steering wheel with a thud that Lindsay feels ricochet through her. She looks out of the window, trying to distance herself from the tension inside but it is no use; she feels it rolling off of Bobby in waves. Dammit, she thinks, what a great start to their holiday this is turning out to be. As much as she's afraid to risk further aggravating him, she knows that she can't just let this fester, the longer he has to build his walls of resentment the harder it'll be for her to break through them. She fears that if they become too high, too strong she may lack the courage to try. She knows that she is the one to have created this mess, so now, she needs to get them out of it. Time is the enemy, given time they'll bury this; they have so much in their vaults already, too much, they can't afford to add more, they need to let some of it out.

Knowing that she needs to calm him down before they can discuss anything, she turns to him and says, "Bobby, I'm sorry."

"For what?" he tersely replies.

"Pissing you off," she responds just as sharply, then, with a sigh, she reminds herself that she's trying to apologize and not antagonize and that she needs to stay in control to do that. She's so out of practice at trying to diffuse an argument that she's thrown by the concept of being afraid, of feeling hurt and, yet, not lashing out. Taking a deep breath, she adds, more gently, "For disappointing you, again."

Bobby looks across at her, a hostile retort ready on his lips until her face comes into view. This morning's smiles are gone, replaced now by concern and wariness; the light that normally shines in her eyes is no longer there and he longs for its return. Lindsay looks terrified and the thought that he is frightening her slaps him harder than she ever could, instantly snapping him out of his funk. Sure she is confusing the hell out of him but the fact that she's still trying to talk to him, that as hurt as she is she's still coming back for more appeases his anger. He starts to think over all that she has said today, things that he hadn't expected to hear and how great it had felt to hear them. He knows that his excitement may have caused him to push her too hard, it's just, she was opening up and he wanted it all. He knows that, given time, she'll tell him more, they'll sort this out, he just needs to be patient. He can't always dictate the pace with which they do things, the traffic alone is proof of that.

Offering her an olive branch, he says with a shrug, "I hate traffic."

His apparently non-sequitur comment, and the surprise of seeing her Bobby appear where a stranger had been, pushes a laugh from Lindsay. "We're almost through it," she says, reaching out and placing her hand on his thigh, knowing that the tide is turning and that they are coming back to one another now.

Bobby feels the warmth from her hand run through him, thawing the ice that had settled in his heart, the subsequent melt sends a relaxed energy throughout his body. He places his hand over hers and smiles, reflecting on the power of her touch. No matter how minute, it never fails to affect him. He can be in an indignant fury at the world's injustices and yet be instantly calmed by her gentle hand, a loving look or her soft voice. People say that he has mellowed, but the truth is, it is merely that his priorities have shifted. His life now constitutes a bigger picture than he'd ever hoped for and it is in that that he finds his passion, his answers and his strength. The day to day battles that had once seemed like life and death to him, no longer consume him, they are just today, not life. This woman beside him is his life, his passion, she anchors him and guides him, he feels whole when he is with her and shattered when anger rips them apart. Her touch, now, fills him with more hope than words ever could, feeling her life in the warmth of her hand, he feels his return to him.

"That's better," he hears and when he looks across at Lindsay, she softly says, "You're smiling again."

"So are you," he replies, grateful that it is so, that whatever had been tearing them apart has been defeated. How, when, why, he doesn't know, but all that really matters to him is that it has. They can start again from this moment. he's determined that animosity will not return, he'll hear her out, whatever it is that she needs to say.

The traffic again begins to move and, this time, they travel in a comfortable silence for a number of blocks before again being brought to a halt. Bobby groans with the effort required to push his aggravation down; he's trying, he's desperately trying, but this is getting way too frustrating. Sensing that Bobby needs a diversion, and more confident now that they can discuss this without fighting, Lindsay decides to get this argument resolved before either of them can bury it.

"I don't believe what I accused you of," she says softly but gets only a brief nod in reply. She isn't sure that he's even listening, so, speaking louder, she says, "It's me, Bobby, not you." When Bobby snorts, she sighs, "I know that that's a terrible line, it's overused and no one believes it because it's so clichéd, but, Bobby, this time it is true." He looks across at her now, and she can see that she has his interest. Taking a deep breath, she quickly says, "Yes, it has happened before, but, no, I've never used that method to ask for sex, I am sorry that I hurt you, that I have been dishonest with you, but sometimes I'm afraid of asking for too much."

His eyes become sympathetic as he sees the plea in hers for him to accept her truths, for his forgiveness. He sees her fear and the tears that are threatening to fall, he wants to hold her in his arms and assure her that everything is okay, but the situation doesn't allow for that, and he knows that she needs to talk, he doesn't understand how she can fear asking for too much, all that he has is hers, so, affectionately, he asks, "What do you mean?"

Seeing his willingness to listen, Lindsay tries to explain, "Well, like last night, I... I was feeling insecure and wanted to be held but... I wasn't sure that after what we'd said to each other you'd actually want to hold me."

Reaching out and taking her hand in his, Bobby affectionately says, "Lindsay, of course I..."

She shakes her head, stopping him, "Bobby, we'd said a lot of things to each other, had a lot on our minds, you might have needed space, I know that I had... just because... just because I was ready didn't mean you were, I wanted to be fair... I knew that if I asked you to, you would hold me, I knew that you wouldn't turn me away but... I didn't want to wonder if you were doing so against your wishes... by saying that I was cold, you had options, you could just as easily have offered to get a blanket, or something, instead."

"You were giving me an out?" Bobby says, beginning to understand.

"I guess," she concedes. When she sneaks a look at him and sees him shaking his head as he faces forward, she adds, remorsefully, "I'm sorry."

Bobby doesn't immediately respond but, as the car again begins to slowly move, he says, "I think that you are tired of lying to me."

Lindsay looks down at the hand enclosing hers, then up at him again, wondering where this great revelation of his has come from. She can't deny that it is true; it is something that she had decided needed to end, she's just surprised to see Bobby come to this understanding, and isn't quite sure how he arrived at it. For her it had been a drawn out process of soul searching, but for him it seems to have taken mere minutes. It is a little disconcerting that he can delve into her mind so well; for someone who has always lived behind protective walls, the knowledge that she can no longer hide is not entirely comfortable.

Although he hasn't looked at her again, Bobby takes her silence and the fact that she hasn't drawn away from him as a sign to continue. His eyes remain steadfastly on the road ahead of them as he says, "Obviously, I've been oblivious to this happening before. I don't know, maybe I should have seen it earlier, maybe I've just been blind up to this point, but cold, Lindsay?"

He quickly looks over at her in amusement, she feels a blush rise on her cheeks and is thankful for the fact that he has to turn away again. His voice holds no censure when he again speaks and Lindsay feels her embarrassment abate in the wake of his acceptance of her whims.

"The reason that I'd woken was I'd been too warm to sleep. It was just too different from home, from what I'm used to. My body was confused to no longer be fighting a Boston winter and our temperamental furnace. I find it hard to believe that you honestly didn't think I'd see through your claim to be cold."

"Bobby, I hadn't slept in over 24 hours and I was feeling a little desperate, you're giving me way too much credit if you believe that I was capable of logical thought." When he chuckles she grins at him and says, "I'd advise you to keep that thought to yourself," knowing that she'd given him a too tempting opening for a tease about her Lindsay-Logic.

He smiles and nods that he'll behave. Looking at him, Lindsay knows that he is unconvinced that she hadn't known he would realise what she was doing. She also knows that he's going to believe what he wants to believe regardless of anything that she says. Giving his accusation some thought, she decides that it may actually have merit. Maybe, unconsciously, she had been trying to show him who she is and the tricks that she hides behind.

"I am tired of lying, Bobby," she admits.

"Then don't," he says giving her hand a gentle squeeze, "There's no need to... ever. Promise me that you won't anymore."

"It's not that easy," she sighs.

"It is! Lindsay, I don't want an out and if you need me, then I want to know that. Don't... don't ever hide from me... please?"

"Okay," she unconvincingly replies.

"Promise?" he asks, wanting an assurance.

"I promise," she says with sincerity.

"Total honesty, from now on?" He says, verifying the terms of her pledge.

"Yes," she laughs, Bobby can be like a dog with a bone, he won't let up until he has exactly what he wants. When she turns to meets his eye, she sobers, seeing there that he's promising the same in return. She nods her acceptance of his unspoken vow, and raising their joined hands kisses his wrist, before again resting their hands on the console between them.

They travel in silence for a moment before Bobby huffs a laugh, "Scary isn't it."

"Terrifying," she replies, feeling the remnants of their earlier tension fade away. She's disappointed to feel his hand leave hers and begins to hate the traffic, almost as much as he does, for having caused it to leave. She watches him from the corner of her eye, wondering what it is that he's thinking now.

"The work you brought..." Bobby eventually says and, looking across at her, sees Lindsay's shoulders slump a little as she sighs. She starts to discuss the case and he quickly says, "Hey, no!" When she looks at him in confusion, he smiles and says, "That isn't what I meant."

Lindsay is made to wait as the traffic again demands Bobby's concentration, when they draw to a stop, he looks at her and smiles as he says, "This is a holiday, Lindsay, no work... in fact, I think that we should make a pact."

Liking the sound of this, Lindsay sits up straighter as she asks, "Okay, what are the terms?"

"No work, not even a mention of work, anything to do with work... all of it," his palm cuts through the air as he makes his decree, "it's totally out of bounds."

"Fine by me," Lindsay replies, loving the very thought of it.

"Yeah, well, you just make sure you remember that, Lindsay, as there are rules..."

"Because rules and us go so well together," she laughs. She loves the grin that crosses his face, sees in it the cheeky little boy that she's sure he once was. "And, for the record," she adds, "I'm not the one who'll need rules to keep me in line."

"Actually, rules might not be the right word," Bobby says, when they begin moving again.

"Oh, really? And what would be the right word?"

"Reparation," he says in a tone that sends instant heat throughout her body.

Requiring a moment to compose herself, she then softly, questioningly repeats the word. "Reparation?"

Chancing a look in her direction, Bobby sees a smile so large that it almost splits her face, "Yeah," he practically hums.

"So, um, what form will these reparations take, Bobby?"

"Well, the person who breaks the pact has to do something that the other orders - no questions asked."

Lindsay looks warily at him, only this time it's an excited hesitation that doesn't bother him at all. He quickly grins at her, then looks away. "Such as?" she asks, the look in his eye had made her wonder if she really wants to know, but she can't help asking.

"I don't know, whatever is appropriate at the time... Right now I'd make you moon that idiot trying to push in," Bobby says, slamming his hand on the car horn as they narrowly avoid being sideswiped.

'There goes the mood,' Lindsay thinks, watching the tension creep back into his jaw, "This is really getting to you isn't it?" she says sympathetically.

"You bet your sweet ass it is!" he curtly replies, stunning her back into silence, first mooning and now this.

She'd tease him about his obvious obsession with her ass but she doesn't think that he is in the mood to be laughed at. It's best not to push him when they are working under such a tentative truce. Lindsay watches him, his features are contorted in frustration and determination as he continues his battle with the lane jumper. When he finally emerges victorious, they travel relatively smoothly for almost ten blocks before the next obstacle arises.

Drawing to a stop, Bobby leans forward, bumping his head three times on the steering wheel before turning to her and asking, "How do people live like this? It's ridiculous! I thought Boston was bad, but this... this is a nightmare."

Lindsay tries to console him with the touch of her hand, but when the muscles in his leg show no sign of easing, she tries another tactic. She lays a trap that she knows he will quickly fall into, that she knows, though it may seem to be worsening the situation, will actually bring him resolution. Looking forwards, and with each word carefully chosen for maximum effect, she softly whispers, "It's only a nightmare because, for a change, you're not in control."

"Excuse me?" he says.

"You just can't handle taking orders, Bobby. You always have to be in charge, but here you aren't and you hate not being the big boss. You hate it because, in this car, in this traffic, you're totally trapped, you're forced by circumstance to be passive. It doesn't matter what you want, you just have to sit back and follow directions, you can rant and rave all you want but you can't do a thing about it, you're forced to follow the will of the road and you can't handle it. You hate that you, Bobby Donnell, can't make anything conform to your will, hate that you, Bobby Donnell, Mr-Senior-Partner, is no longer in charge, you're powerless, just another minion, you're..."

Having heard enough, Bobby eases his foot from the brake, lurching the car forward, before replacing the pressure.

"Bobby!" Lindsay shrieks as the bumper of the car in front comes dangerously close.

"Finished psychoanalysing me yet?" he smugly sneers.

"Yes!" she declares.

"Good," Bobby says with a pleased, who's-in-control-now look on his face.

As the traffic starts to move, Lindsay looks out of the window, it's the easiest way for her to hide her gotcha grin from Bobby. When he's frustrated, he just needs to feel in control of something to regain his composure. If she can help him feel like he has taken charge of a situation then it benefits both of them and, thankfully, she knows the exact buttons to push to achieve that end. She certainly wouldn't have utilized the incite-his-fighting-spirit tactic should the traffic have been moving, that would have been reckless, but, stationary, she knew that whatever action he implemented to display that he is still in charge would be safe enough. He is so easy to play at times, so predictable, and yet, sometimes he's a conundrum that's impossible to work out. How can you know someone so acutely one minute and be mystified the next? Is it that some things she allows herself to know and others she doesn't?

Finally the traffic continues in a slow but steady fashion, with each mile they travel taking them further from the congestion, until, finally, they have nothing but clear highway in front of them. They travel in silence, too much thinking is going on to allow for conversation. Each replaying conversations, picking them apart and searching for answers, sneaking glances with each conclusion and finding solace in the presence of the other.

After a while, Bobby reaches out and rubs Lindsay's arm as he says, "Thanks for that back there."

"You knew?" Lindsay asks, surprised; are none of her tricks unknown to him anymore?

"I do now," Bobby says, laughing, "You're good, you know that."

Lindsay smiles, reminded of a night long ago, working late in the office with him, until his treatise on liars had them throwing away their notes and filling their hands with something far more pleasurable. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she grins and says, "Remind me never to let you drive in heavy traffic again." As he opens his mouth to speak, she quickly adds, "And if you plan to make a crack about me supposedly driving like a granny then you can stop the car right now and let me out." When Bobby begins to slow the car and ease it to the side of the road, Lindsay laughs and, placing her hand on his arm, says, "Okay, maybe you can wait until we get there and then let me out."

"Deal," Bobby nods, straightening up and re-exerting pressure on the accelerator. Lindsay suspects that she heard him whisper the word, 'grandma,' as well and narrows her eyes at him. Bobby puts on his most angelic face, which, though magnificent, does not convince her at all; he does not do innocence well, his eyes never quite lose their fire and, in them, she can always see a hint of the devil hiding inside.

Smiling, Lindsay rests back into the car seat and closes her eyes as she begins imagining a week of surf, sun and Bobby. She finds it hard to picture Bobby at a romantic little B&B and the more that she thinks of it, the more concerned with the notion she becomes. What if there's an obnoxious other couple staying there; neither she or Bobby suffer fools lightly, how long will their tolerance last? What if it's one of those strictly regimented places that insist on you running to their time frame? Bobby will not take kindly to that. What if...? What if..? What if...? Suddenly hit with an avalanche of what-ifs, Lindsay quickly turns to Bobby, hoping that a conversation with him will silence the voices in her head. Her mouth opens before shutting again with an almost audible clap; she'd been about to talk about work. Their pact is barely twenty minutes old and she'd been about to break it. Dear God, are they actually going to be able to go a full week without talking about work? What the hell are they going to talk about? The thought of a week of small talk with Bobby is so preposterous that Lindsay can't help but smile.

"What are you grinning at?" Bobby asks.

"Us and the unmentionable, do you honestly think that we can do it?"

"You and me doing the unmentionable," Bobby grins as he looks at her, "I certainly hope so... in fact... I've got to say it sounds very appealing."

"That isn't what I meant and you know it," Lindsay laughs.

"I know," Bobby says, "And, yes, Lindsay, I know that we can do it, we can do anything that we set our minds to."

"That's true," she agrees as she turns to look forward again, smiling, she turns back to him, "Oh, and Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"I like the sound of it too."

If a whole body could smile, then, Bobby's would be smiling at her right now. Lindsay wishes that they were there already, this mood is too good to waste cooped up in a car. She wants to bottle their good cheer so that she can treasure it always and so that she can bring it back out when needed, for she knows it won't last. Sinking back into her seat again, her head is suddenly filled with plenty of unmentionable scenarios, more than enough to occupy her mind during this already too long drive.

After a long moment of silence, Bobby says, "I'd get you to speak to me but I fear what you say may have me veering off the road."

Lindsay giggles, then, in a voice that men would pay-by-the-minute to hear, she purrs, "It's a warm sunny day, we're outside, all alone, skin to skin, just you and me in each other's arms, lazy and content. I can smell coconut oil in the breeze, somewhere far off there's soft music playing and I run my hands along your body in time to it. You're barely able to keep still now, consumed with pleasure and your eyes beg me for more. God, if I thought the sun was warm, you, Bobby, you're scorching. My mouth can't bear to be away from yours and I lean over and kiss you..."

Bobby deliberately softly swerves the car as he lets out a moan, saying "Ooh, baby, more."

Lindsay's grin threatens to escape, as she teasingly adds, "Anyway, then I reach for an altoid..."

Straightening the car, Bobby laughs, "Altoids?"

"Uh huh," she replies smugly and turns to look out of the window.

"Why?" he asks and she just shrugs evasively; let him try and guess and, should he, she's sure that he'll delight in his reward.

Sensing that Bobby's brain is going to be feveredly preoccupied working that comment out, Lindsay decides, at a maximum, it will be five miles before he asks his first question. She begins looking out for the mile markers to begin the countdown that will demonstrate just how well she knows him.

Just as they're approaching their third mile of silence, Bobby slowly pulls the car to the side of the road. Lindsay instantly looks over at him, asking, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he smiles, "I just think that it's safer to do this this way."

Lindsay's mind spins as she tries to decide exactly what he's up to now. She should have known that he'd try and outwit her after her attempt to mess with him, neither ever likes to admit defeat. She knows that he's trying to appear as if he's forgotten her comment but, beneath his insouciance, she sees his deep-in-thought Bobby eyes.

"Bobby?" she asks nervously, his paybacks are, at times, phenomenal in their ingenuity; it is one of the hazards of falling for a brilliant and cunning man.

He looks at her and, at first, Lindsay thinks that he is moving in to give her a kiss until he veers off and his head disappears between the seats. She watches him reach into the back of the car, enjoys her view of his deliciously contracting back muscles as he wrestles to free something, imagining how good it would feel to have them shifting under her hands. She smiles as he grunts and groans, straining for the elusive object and, amused, she can't help teasingly asking, "Want some help?"

"You just stay there," he growls before rising, breathless, flushed and triumphant.

From the look in his eye, as he hands the box to her, Lindsay can almost picture him down on one knee offering his heart. Looking at what she holds in her hands a smile rises and Bobby's insistence on opening all of the windows starts to make sense, he'd tried to disguise the now unmistakable aroma of cookies. "My God!" she whispers, spellbound, then, looking up, she asks, "Where's your box?"

When he dives back between the seats, she laughs out loud, believing him joking until he rises with another box in his hand.

"You didn't trust me to share?" she asks.

"Maybe, I didn't want to share," he replies.

"I think that we should open your box first," Lindsay suggests.

Bobby groans, "Why am I not surprised?"

Lindsay leans into the back and places her box onto the seat, then straightening up holds out her hand to him. He hangs his head down in a put-upon pose as he hands his box to her. Opening it, she removes two cookies and hands one to Bobby.

Taking it from her, Bobby, too, can't stop smiling, loving seeing Lindsay so happy. He's surprised at how much more relaxed he is now that they have finally escaped LA. God, he hates LA! Staying there had been a necessary evil, thankfully a successful one, but he would just as happily never return there again. Now that they have left, he feels like their holiday has truly begun. This, he determines, is going to be a great vacation. Whatever it takes to make it so, he'll do. Looking at Lindsay, now, he can't help but think that it is going to be incredible. He wishes that they'd done this sooner and regrets that they only have a week; even a lifetime alone with her wouldn't be enough.

"Mmmmm," Lindsay hums delightedly as she nibbles on her cookie. "Thank you," she says looking across at Bobby.

Bobby nods, then, with an overtly sly look, says, "We both agree that this is my box, right?"

"Yeah," Lindsay replies, curiously.

"In that case," he points at the cookie that she's holding, grins and says, "That is going to cost you."

Smiling broadly, Lindsay purrs, "Oh, really?"

"Yeah, come here."

Offering no objection, Lindsay leans towards Bobby, her eyes close as his hand slides behind her neck, supporting her head as they kiss. There's so much emotion embroiled in this one little act: joy, sorrow, acceptance, forgiveness, hope, anticipation, need and, most of all, an intensely burning love. In the communication that they excel at, they reaffirm the vows that they made during their earlier, somewhat heated, discussion: no more hiding, from now on together completely, open and honest, always. Affirmations that they've yet to find the courage to voice are exchanged in their physical communion.

When their lips finally part, Lindsay rests her forehead against Bobby's and breathlessly whispers, "Are we there yet?"

Bobby softly laughs, then, with a final brush of his lips against hers, releases his hold on her and sits up straight. "Over an hour to go... sorry," he says.

"It's okay," Lindsay hums. She runs her hand over his cheek, eliciting a smile from him, then, sitting back in her seat, adds, "I'll survive... I've got cookies."

"Yeah, but they're going to cost you," Bobby reminds her.

With a smile, she says, "I know, but I like the price."

Bobby is unable to control the pleasure coursing through him, this total honesty kick is certainly good for his ego. He just hopes that his own truths can make her feel even a half of the pleasure that he's experiencing. He smiles at her as he says, "Ah, but there isn't a set price, each one is different."

"Oooh," she hums, now understanding his motives for giving them to her. "I'm intrigued."

Bobby puts on an air of secrecy as he pulls back out onto the road. Lindsay looks down at the box she is holding and smiles knowing that one of those cookies will cost her the information that she had withheld. She's curious to see how many Bobby allows her to eat before insisting on an explanation for the appearance of altoids in her fantasy.

~~~~~~~



    To be continued

Nag me