Flirting With Danger Chapter 9

Time to sleep

"Good Lord, think we should tidy up a bit," Charlie said suddenly, glancing around the room and anticipating the cleaners' reaction in the morning when they opened the door.

She moved away from him then, busying herself with clearing away the food and replacing the chess set. Besides, if she stayed where she was for any longer, she'd be in tears again.

So, what would happen next? She'd make the room as spotless as she could and then settle down on the sofa for the night. Then it would be morning. He wasn't sure he was ready for that... ready for the whole Borelli mess to rear its ugly head again, or ready for what to do about the Charlie situation. Besides, he did most of his thinking at night lately, sleeping only when it was necessary.

He watched her systematically gear them closer to departure.

"You want a drink?" he asked her, holding up the whiskey bottle as she swept past him.

She glanced down at it briefly, contemplating their assault on Doug's alcohol reserves.

"Luke, we really oughtn't…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, poor old Doug. So you want a drink or not?" he asked.

He thought she was being uptight. Well, if she didn't want a drink, she wasn't going to have one. But… considering… it hadn't exactly been an easy night.

"I'll have one," she stressed, slipping the chess set back onto the shelf, picking up another whiskey glass, moving back to the desk and taking a seat on the office chair.

Thank God! He poured her a drink and leant back against the window ledge on the other side of the desk opposite her.

"So," she began, taking a sip of the whiskey and trying not to wince at its effects, " do you have any ideas as to who would want to murder Roberto?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied, "me."

"Very funny Adams, apart from you?" she pushed.

He sighed and shook his head. "No. You have any ideas?"

She thought for a moment. "Well, someone from your neck of the woods I would think," she replied. "Someone from the same mob who probably wanted to take control?"

"That don't make no sense," he contradicted.

She took a sip of the whiskey and thought for a moment. "But who else would have motive?"

"Donno," he replied, "but if they wanted to hit Roberto, they sure as hell wouldn't come here to do it. They'd want to do it on their own turf, and let everyone there know about it," he reasoned.

"Okay, then who?" she asked.

"Someone here?" he questioned.

"But who? Why?" she came back.

He had some ideas but he wasn't going to air them at that moment.

"Look," she began, "chances are that it's someone from that mob, and maybe they thought he was an easier target here."

"Nah, it don't work like that. It's all about territory and showing you're in control out there; they wouldn't want him to be an easier target. Aint no glory in that," he replied.

She considered his comment and thought for a moment. "No," she shook her head, "I refuse point-blank to believe that it would have been someone from the club. I've known everyone here for years."

Luke became suddenly very still, and stared strangely at Charlie, his eyes distant though. Her words, "I refuse point-blank..." rewound in his head.

"What?" she asked, noticing his distraction.

He shook his head and refocused on her. "I know one way of proving if it was someone from the Borelli mob. We need to study the crime scene more though, and the body."

"What are we looking for?" she asked, sipping her drink.

"Evidence that he was or wasn't shot at point- blank range. If it was anyone from the Borelli mob, that's how they would have finished him. It was a pride thing, after the brothers failed to kill Danny. Every murder connected with the Borelli's since they found out he was still alive was done at point-blank range... to make sure the job was done right," he explained.

She nodded and took another sip of her drink. "Oh, something else," she pointed to him, "how did they get here, the murderer and Roberto I mean?"

"If it was someone from the club, they were already here," he pointed out.

Why was he so convinced that it was someone from the club? The thought was ridiculous.

"So, how did Roberto get here then?" she asked.

"Look, I dunno; maybe they moved the car or something. What we need is to get hold of those surveillance discs to find out anything for sure."

"I've been thinking about that too..." she began.

Luke had the feeling he wasn't going to like what she was about to say.

"... how exactly are we going to get our hands on those discs?"

Luke frowned. What was her problem now? "We ask Denny... Dennis, whatever his name is. We've been through this; he will hand them over or people are gonna find out about his little indiscretions."

She shook her head. "Adams, I was joking. Dennis is a married man, and I've got to still socialize with these people you know; I'm not having you ride roughshod into this, causing all sorts of trouble. Besides, it's most likely that she has the discs, if either of them do. I can't imagine him leaving that sort of thing lying around for his wife to see."

He sighed. "Right, so we go see her then. You know where she lives?"

She nodded. "But.."

"But what?" he came back impatiently.

She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs. "How are we going to approach this?"

"What d'ya mean? We go ask her for the discs!" Why did women have to complicate everything?

"Err right. And what reason are we going to give for knowing that she has them? Do you intend to tell her that you were watching her have sex with Dennis?"

"Yeah, too right...if it means…" he stopped to think for a second, "…Well, not letting her know we watched exactly," he backtracked.

"You watched," she corrected.

His eyes narrowed at her.

"But..." he paused for thought again, "…we could say... we knew because...ok," he gave up, "we don't ask for them; we go break into her house and take a look around."

"We are not breaking into Sue's house," she came back adamantly.

A pulse on Luke's temple began to twitch.

"But," she put a finger up to stop him from exploding, "What we do is pay her a visit and you can distract her while I take a look around."

"Alright, already; we do that then." He took a sip of his whiskey thoughtfully. "How well you know this Sue woman anyway?" he asked, a little out of the blue.

She shrugged. "We're not best friends or anything like that, but she's been coming to the club for years, so we're not exactly strangers either."

"'Cause you know everyone in the club, right?" he replied.

She bristled slightly at his tone. "Yes, as a matter of fact I do."

"You spend a lot of time here then," he observed.

"The club provides a venue for quite a lot of the charity functions; Doug has really helped us out a lot," she said defensively. "Adams, is there a point to this conversation?"

"Is this Doug guy married?" he asked, completely ignoring her previous question.

She frowned. "He's divorced. Why?"

He nodded, as if that information had confirmed something. What on earth was going through his head?

"You said 'us'," he went on, "that Doug had helped 'us' out a lot..."

"Richie and I," she supplied.

His eyes widened slightly. "So you work with Richie then?"

"Sometimes, yes."

He nodded. "And how long has Richie boy been coming to the club?" he asked.

She placed her whiskey glass down on the desk in front of her and folded her arms.

He made a mental note to cool it on the questions. Charlie wasn't happy.

"Do you think I don't know what you're doing?" she asked.

"What?" he replied innocently. "Just taking an interest in your new life."

"No you're not," she contradicted, "You're mentally investigating my club... and my fiancé too!" she added.

"Your club?" he quoted her with surprise. "And anyway, you aint engaged to the guy; you turned him down," he reminded her.

"Well, the club that I belong to," she corrected. "And I didn't turn him down, I..."

"You what?" he jumped in, noting her hesitation.

"I... postponed it," she finished.

He smiled but said nothing. Eww, he was beginning to annoy her now.

"I really don't see what business it is of yours anyway," she said, picking her whiskey glass back up, swivelling on the chair and feigning interest in a magazine on the desk. She turned the pages with a little more vigour than was needed.

"Pipe down will ya," he replied, watching her hands and wondering if one of the pages was going to rip in them. "You're probably right; it's most likely someone from New York."

She glanced up at him then, narrowing her eyes.

But he didn't really believe that ; he was giving in way too easily. Well, he could believe what he wanted. He'd find out the truth in the end soon enough.

"So, what d'ya do exactly... this charity work?" he asked, finishing his drink and reaching out for the bottle to pour another. A frown flickered across her face. He seemed to be drinking more than usual.

"I organize functions, approach businesses for donations and sponsorship, that kind of thing," she replied casually, her focus still hovering on the magazine.

He contemplated her for a moment. "And you enjoy that job?" he asked.

She glanced across at him and nodded. "Yes, yes I do. I like knowing that I'm helping people."

He sipped his whiskey. "Course you do, 'cause that's you Charlie, but you were helping people at MI5 too," he pointed out.

She sighed. "I know, but now I'm helping people in different ways."

He turned to glance out of the window for a while before turning back to her. "I know it's a sore subject for you, but don't you ever miss MI5?" he asked, "just a bit?"

Her expression softened. "Of course I do, but I've moved on now. It doesn't mean that I don't have many fond memories of working there though," she added.

His face lightened. "Yeah, what?"

She stared at him in silence for a second. "What, what?"

"What 'fond' memories do you have?" he pushed.

"Specifically?" she asked with surprise.

"Yeah, specifically," he answered.

"Err…" She thought for a moment, contemplating memories, whilst feeling the pressure to say the appropriate thing. Then she chuckled as one popped into her head. "We had a lot of fun doing some of that undercover work. I seem to remember you playing a gay art dealer once; that was very entertaining."

He smiled. "Yeah, I thought you were gonna bust our cover on that one."

She laughed. "I very nearly did!"

His eyes smiled at her across the room. "Yeah, we had some fun doing the undercover jobs,” he agreed. “… I thought we did Cindy and Jake Carlton exceptionally well," he grinned, holding her gaze.

Hmm, Cindy and Jake were supposed to have met undercover as strangers, but Luke had them supposedly falling in love at first sight and sharing a bed in the house of the target on that very same night! She’d always wondered if he’d actually thought that she might give in and have sex with him in that bed. Not a chance. Still, the evening had been… interesting.

She held his gaze in return. "Ah yes, Mr Carlton, I remember him."

The private joke kept the amusement in their expressions and fused them together in the moment. Her smile lingered for probably longer than it should have. Then she came to her senses, finally standing.

"Well, I'm going to at least attempt some sleep. You should too," she advised, clearing up the last few glasses and plates.

"Yeah, well it aint exactly the Park Lane," he said, glancing at the sofa and jumping up suddenly as a thought hit him. In three strides he was there, throwing himself down across its length, his hands underneath his head, a smile on his face.

She swung her head towards the sudden commotion.

"Turn the light out will ya?" he said.

She approached the sofa and crossed her arms, glaring down at him. "Err, and where do you propose I sleep?" she asked.

He patted the column of sofa space next to him.

"Oh no," she shook her head. "I hardly think it appropriate, do you?"

"Appropriate for what? We gotta sleep aint we?" he replied, rolling over onto his side, punching the cushion under his head and closing his eyes.

Great! Such a gentleman.

She stood there for a moment in the vague hope that he would actually change his mind and move over to one side of the sofa for her. Nope, not a chance! Grrr.

Retrieving the blanket, which she had left on the back of the chair, she stomped over to the sofa, grabbed hold of his legs and yanked them off, claiming the corner for herself. Seconds later however, his legs moved back, covering her lap and clamping her to the seat. He shrugged his shoes off.

"Adams? Feet!" she exclaimed.

No response.

Of all the pig headed, arrogant!

Pushing his legs away, she stood again, ready to move to the undoubted, extreme discomfort of the desk chair. She only got two steps away however before she heard a frustrated growl,

"Where you going?"

After which his hand shot out, grabbing her arm and hurling her back to the sofa, where she fell unceremoniously into the space next to him.

"Adams!" she began.

"Stop being so uptight will ya?" he cut in, watching her lie stiffly on her back, "what d'ya think I'm gonna do?" he asked, his eyes lifting to her face beside his.

"Well, nothing, but..."

"We gotta sleep, right? There's only one sofa, and I sure as hell aint sleeping sitting up," he stressed.

Hmm, she hated it when he sounded so reasonable.

She sighed and shot him a suspicious look.

He ignored her and wriggled himself deeper into the sofa cushions, closing his eyes again.

Well, she guessed that she didn't exactly have much choice. And she really didn't relish the thought of attempting sleep on that office chair either.

Slowly, and a little stiffly, with gradual acceptance of her situation, she turned on the sofa, so that her back was facing Luke, and set to the task of attempting sleep.

This was weird. She hadn't seen him for seven years and now she was suddenly lying down next to him.

The longer she lay there too, the more aware of him she became. They weren't actually touching at all, but they might as well have been. There must have been an inch between them at best... an inch of air that quickly warmed, so much so that she was no longer sure if his body was in fact touching hers or not. She could hear him, almost feel him, breathing. It was a concentrated breathing, as though he was thinking about something.

Luke's attention was fixed with fascination down the gap in the blanket. It was that damn dress again! He couldn't seem to keep his eyes from it. He ran his gaze down over her bare shoulder and arm, which was draped along her hip...her hand resting on her thigh. There his eyes lingered for a while on her hand...her fingers touching the hem of her dress... before they moved up his favourite fascination for that day, her naked back. He took his time, unashamedly caressing her with his eyes, imagining his fingers replacing them... sending shivers down her spine, then his lips... minute kisses, teasing,... she arches her back., her willpower crumbling... His gaze had travelled up over the arch of her back by then, to her shoulder blades, and then back down to the furthest her dress would allow him to view. Still, he continued his journey over her dress nonetheless, to appreciate the roundness that he had no hope of ever seeing, apart from in his mind's eye, which was frustratingly never clear enough.

He definitely wasn't asleep. She could just tell. She could sense that he was still alert. God, what was he doing? She had a clue. Without even looking, she could feel his eyes on her, and the more she realized it, the more aware of him being behind her she became. Her dress wasn't transparent, was it? She had the crazy notion then that his eyes could make it so. And she only had the scantiest pair of lacy briefs on too. For goodness sake, he couldn't see them! Although, knowing Adams, maybe he could. Good grief, how was she ever going to get any sleep like this, with her heart beating a million miles a minute?

Luke's imagination was running away with him. Well, he wasn't going to get any sleep, that was for sure, so he might as well fill the time with making the most of the situation. Now the removal of the dress. That would be incredibly easy. She'd be putty in his hands at that point anyway... yes she would! Hey this was his fantasy, so in his fantasy she would! She'd be lying there bursting for him to go further. So, anyway, he'd simply run his hands up her back to her shoulder blades and then over her shoulders, taking the straps of the dress with them... then down her arms, slipping the material down her front. Oooh and he'd forgotten about the fact that she had to be braless, so, since his hands were there at that point, it would be a crime for him not to 'appreciate' those womanly attributes too. Grrr, touching Charlie for the first time, he'd take his time with that; she'd be purring by the time he'd finished! Luke shifted slightly on the sofa, getting more and more restless by the minute.

What was going through his head now? And why couldn't he stay still? Oh well, at least he hadn't tried to touch her; that was a relief. Actually, why hadn't he tried to touch her? Hmm, maybe he knew he'd get a telling off. But whatever the reason was, she knew without a shadow of a doubt, that Luke was like a coiled spring back there. But surely he had to fall asleep soon. How long could one man look at a woman's back for? Now she couldn't sleep without knowing why he couldn't sleep! Okay, she could read Luke's mind well enough; what would Luke be thinking at a time like this? Oh God, he'd be bored with the 'looking' stage by now; he'd have gone on to the 'imagining' stage. He'd be taking her clothes off!

Now he was at the really good bit, easing the dress over her hips, he'd reach down to relieve her of the dress completely. He shifted again.

Was he kissing her in his mind, his hands in her hair, his lips on hers...hot and demanding? Had his touch moved down her back? Reached under the material... or slipped it off, giving his hands free reign! She shivered slightly, readjusting the blanket.

Luke was now downright uncomfortable, and it had nothing to do with being cramped!

"You asleep?" he asked. Clearly she wasn't.

"Yes," she replied, closing her eyes.

He growled and tried to turn away from her, but this only brought their backs into contact. He had to face it, there was no way he was getting any sleep anytime soon. Giving up on lying next to her and having to suffer any more aching frustration, he threw back the blanket and climbed over her.

She sat up, draping the blanket over her shoulders and tilting her head to see what he was doing.

He headed straight for the drinks cabinet and the half bottle of whiskey. Picking up a glass and the bottle, he made for the desk, where he poured himself a drink. He had to clear his head and stop thinking about stripping Charlie!

"You alright?" she asked.

He looked up at her from his whiskey glass.

"Thought you were asleep?" he replied.

"I am; I was just wondered if you were okay. You must be tired and jetlagged," she pointed out.

"Funny, can't get to sleep," he answered wryly. He gestured to the sofa with his whiskey glass hand, "Make the most of having all the sofa though Charlie; cause after this, if I'm feeling sleepy, you never know, I might be coming back there."