by Gerri Hill
"How do you know?" Casey asked.
"Because identical twins have the same DNA." She shrugged. "I took a couple of forensic classes."
"So even though they're twins, they might not even look alike."
"Right. But because they switch out on being the sister, I'd guess that they do favor each other."
"Well, at least we've got some sort of relationship with him." Casey grinned. "I think he has a crush on you."
Leslie stood. "And I think he's scared you're going to tie him up," she teased.
"Okay. Let's try to find out where he goes during the day and why the hell we couldn't find him all week."
"Yeah. But why do you think Patrick does the dress thing? And why would he make John wear it occasionally? It makes no sense."
"If there's another murder, CIU will get involved. And then we'll have profilers and shrinks reviewing the case. We'll know soon enough why he does the dress."
"That's the problem. The why of it isn't going to really help us catch him."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
"Give me a break, Hunter," Casey said. "On what goddamn charges?" She flicked her glance at Leslie, rolling her eyes. "He hasn't done anything wrong. We found him, we talked to him, end of story." She frowned. "Because we goddamn believe him, that's why."
Leslie watched her, having learned how Casey and Tori spoke to one another when they appeared to be upset. Which, in reality, they weren't really upset with each other. It was just Tori's way of venting, and Casey let her. To a degree.
"Yeah, yeah. Love to Sam." She closed her phone. "She drives me insane. I swear, I think she does it on purpose. Anyway, Malone's trying to get approval for a twenty-four hour tag detail, hoping John can lead us to Patrick. I'll get with Hunter sometime this weekend and go over what all John told us."
"Well, at least we know more than we did. I'm glad we can call it an early night for once." As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to take them back.
"Yeah. Short night." Casey forced a smile. "And a Friday. I guess you and Michael have big plans?"
Leslie bit her lip. Casey hadn't mentioned Michael's name all week. "No, Casey, that's not what I meant. I just...it's been a long week. That's all."
"Yeah, it has." Casey glanced at her quickly. "I'm sorry. So, I have laundry planned for the weekend. And I promised Mr. Gunter I'd mow his yard for him." She took a deep breath. "What do you guys have going on? Anything fun?"
"Stop it."
Casey put her blinker on, waiting for a car to pass before turning into the parking lot. "I'm sorry," she said again. "You're right. It's been a long week. It's none of my business anyway."
"Casey?"
She looked at her and Leslie was shocked by the sadness she saw in her eyes. She reached a hand out, but Casey pulled away.
"Don't," she whispered.
"Casey? What are we doing here?"
"I don't guess we're doing anything. I'm sorry. I'm very tired. I know you are too." Casey stared out the windshield. "Have a good weekend. I'll see you on Monday."
As far as dismissals went, Leslie was sure she'd had colder ones. She just couldn't think of any at the moment. So she nodded, torn between trying to explain things to Casey and her need to get home to Michael. Because it was time. It was time she told him. She needed to get this over with. And she wanted to do it without Casey knowing. She didn't want her to feel guilty. She didn't want her to feel pressured. She didn't want the fact that she'd ended things with Michael to be a consideration when it came to their own relationship.
"Casey--"
"Goodnight, Leslie." She lowered her head. "Please," she whispered. "Just goodnight."
Leslie sighed. "Okay."
She got out, closing the door quietly behind her. Casey turned and their eyes met for a second, then Casey drove off, leaving her standing there, the memory of those haunted blue eyes etched in her brain.
She clenched her hands into fists, watching the red taillights of Casey's truck fade from view. "Oh, Casey," she whispered. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Michael will have to wait.
She simply couldn't leave things like they were with Casey. So she hurried to her car, speeding away down the street after Casey.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
"Idiot."
Casey sank down in her chair, trying desperately not to think about Leslie with Michael. The rational part of her brain said they couldn't possibly still be sleeping together. Right? But the other part, the part that was fueling her jealously, said why else was Leslie rushing off to be with him on a Friday night.
Idiot.
Jesus! You never fall for a straight woman. Never. She thought she'd learned that lesson ten years ago. Apparently not. Straight women are just curious.
Okay. She could get past this. They were partners. They were friends. That's where it ended. This silly crush--this attraction--would simply go away over time.
Surely.
"Idiot."
"Who are you talking to?"
She nearly fell out of her chair and was embarrassed by the gasp--and scream--that left her lips.
"Jesus Christ! You could get shot doing that!"
Leslie laughed. "Yeah. I see how quickly you pulled your weapon."
Casey spun around. "What the hell are you doing here, anyway?"
"I came to talk to you."
Casey shook her head. "No. Come on, Les. Please, let's don't do this. This is silly. You're engaged. You live with a guy. And I'm an idiot," she said.
Leslie walked closer. "An idiot because you're attracted to me?"
"I'm trying to get over that."
"Are you now?"
"Yeah. In fact, I'm going to work on it this weekend."
"Why?"
Casey raised her eyebrows. "Did you forget about that cardinal sin?"
"So you're going to go back to the argument that I'm just curious? A straight woman playing a little game with you?" She moved closer. "Is that what you really think?"
It's what she wanted to think. Her insecurities told her that's what it was. Her insecurities told her that this beautiful woman who was engaged to be married couldn't possibly find her attractive, couldn't possibly desire her. But when their eyes met, she thought no such thing.
"Curious is not the right word, Casey. I don't want to touch another woman's breasts. But I want to touch yours. I'm not curious to know how another woman's skin tastes, but I want to know how yours tastes," she whispered. "And I don't want to kiss another woman, Casey. But God, I want to kiss you, and I want to make love with you."
With their eyes locked together, Casey was unable to speak, unable to think.
"So you won't get over it this weekend. But you have got to give me some time to get my life sorted out, Casey. Please don't run from this." She closed her eyes. "Please don't doubt me. I'm doing the best I can here."
Casey finally moved, lifting her hand and touching Leslie's face. She let her fingers move gently across her skin, aware it was the most intimate touch they'd shared. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"It's not a game for me, Casey. But I'm not ready for this yet, and I don't think you're ready." She covered Casey's hand with her own, holding it close. "I don't want to screw this up. I don't want to hurt you or me, and I don't want to ruin our new friendship over this. But we're not ready yet."
"I know." She reached for her. "Come here."
She was right. Everything she said was so right. No, they probably weren't ready for a physical relationship. Because it wasn't going to be just physical. And they had a working relationship to deal with as well. It occurred to her that any sane person would have ended things right then before they even got started. But a sane person hadn't looked into her eyes, hadn't seen the glimmer of desire, hadn't been innocently touched by her, causing her own desire to flare. A sane person couldn't possibly see past the fear in her eyes to see the promise.
So she pulled her close, wrapping her arms around Leslie's body and just held her, letting their bodi
es get acquainted with each other. No, they weren't ready. But it felt so good to hold her, to hear her heartbeat, to feel her breath, and to feel her tremble, just from being close.
Imagine what making love would be like.
She pulled back, needing to end this before her body took over, but Leslie's fingers threaded through her hair, touching her, pulling her back, pulling her close again.
"Kiss me."
Casey stared at her lips. Was it a command? Or had she only imagined it? But no, Leslie's lips parted, Leslie's hand at her neck guided her, beckoning her. She didn't resist. She took what was offered. She just wasn't prepared for the softness, for the aching sweetness that greeted her. She moaned. Or was it Leslie? She lifted her head, staring into those dark eyes that were swimming in desire, wondering if Leslie's thoughts were as jumbled as her own at the moment.
But then Leslie pulled her back down, and a fire was ignited. Her mouth opened, her tongue demanding entry, and Leslie complied, her hands roaming freely, pulling Casey tight against her. Any restraint she was clinging to vanished as her own hands slipped down to Leslie's hips, grasping her, pulling her hard against her body.
She felt Leslie's hands digging into her back, heard the nearly primal sounds coming from her throat as their hips melded together. She pulled her mouth away, needing to breathe, needing to think, but Leslie's thighs parted, and she lost her will to think. She clutched Leslie's hips, pulling her hard against her leg, imagining the wetness she would find there as Leslie ground herself against her.
Mentally they weren't ready, no, but God, physically, they were about to explode. When was the last time she'd felt this kind of fire from kissing a woman? They were so close, clinging to each other, she wasn't even sure where her body ended and Leslie's began. But when Leslie lifted her shirt and she felt the cool night air against her skin, when she felt the burning warmth of Leslie's fingers as they crept higher, she knew they should stop. She could tell by Leslie's actions that her body had taken over her mind, overriding her sensibilities as their passion raged.
But this wasn't how she wanted their first time to be, a hurried encounter out on her deck, as if they were sneaking around, as if it was some sort of an affair. No. She wanted Leslie to be able to give herself freely, not have to feel guilty for making love so hurriedly just because their need to touch had become too much. So she tore her mouth from Leslie's, taking her hands and holding them between their bodies, trying to still her racing heart.
"Oh, God," Leslie whispered. "I'm sorry. I--"
"Shhh, no. And stopping has nothing to do with being gallant on my part." She bent her head, lightly brushing Leslie's lips with her own again. "I just didn't want our first time to be like this."
Leslie stepped away, her eyes wild. "I completely lost my mind there." She tried to smile. "I knew it would be like that with you. I knew my body would react like that." She walked to the railing, leaning over, catching her breath. "I've never wanted someone so much before like that." She turned back around. "I thought I would be afraid."
"Afraid of me?"
"Afraid of this," she said. "Of us."
"We can take it as slow as you need, Les."
She smiled. "Slow? I don't think my body understands that word." She straightened. "I should go. Before we..."
Casey nodded. "I know."
Leslie stopped when she got to the steps of the deck and turned back around. "You're an awesome kisser, by the way."
She fled then, leaving Casey smiling after her.
Awesome, huh?
Chapter Thirty
The nonchalance she tried to exhibit to Casey as she left faded as soon as she got in her car. She sat for a moment, holding the steering wheel, her mind spinning.
"My, God," she whispered.
Was it supposed to be that intense?
Without thinking, she shoved her hands between her legs, squeezing hard, her body still reeling from Casey's touch. She could feel the unfamiliar wetness between her legs, could still feel the heat., and her body cried out for release.
"Oh God," she groaned as she pressed the seam of her jeans tight against her. Stop!
She jerked her hands away, trying to calm herself. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing the look in her eyes.
"I want her," she whispered. Then she smiled. You don't say?
But her humor faded as she drove away. She had to tell Michael. How she was going to tell him, she had no idea. Because she had no desire to hurt him. But what man would understand this?
When she got home and found it quiet, she assumed he'd gone up to Jeff's. She hadn't called him. He would have had no idea it was an early night for her. Her hope that he was gone, giving her a chance to rehearse what she needed to tell him, was short-lived, however. She screamed as he grabbed her from behind and pulled her against him.
"Michael! You're wet."
"I just got out of the shower." He spun her around, kissing her hard. "And I'm feeling frisky. Come on, we haven't had sex in ages."
"Michael, what are you doing? Now?"
"Yes, now. Why not now?" He kissed her again. "Let's do it before you get a headache, or claim you're too tired, or any other excuse you can think of."
Leslie forcibly pushed him away. "I didn't know that I needed an excuse not to have sex. It's still a choice, right?" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, his bruising kiss replacing the soft touch of Casey's.
"Come on. You know what I mean. You always have some reason lately. The last time we did, you started crying." He leaned against the wall. "You want to tell me what's going on?"
This wasn't how she envisioned having this talk. Not with him wanting sex and her having to defend herself. She looked away for a second, remembering Casey's touch, her kiss. No, she couldn't put it off any longer.
"Michael, I don't want to have sex with you," she said quietly. "It just doesn't feel right to me."
"Right? What doesn't? Sex?"
She tucked her hands under her arms, not able to look at him. "Not just sex, Michael. Everything. Us. I'm having second thoughts about this," she said weakly, hating herself for not being able to just tell him.
"About the wedding?" He took a step closer. "Are you kidding me?"
"Michael, it's just not right with us. Can't you feel that?" She finally looked at him, meeting his eyes. "I mean, what are we doing here? I feel like we're just going through the motions."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about us, Michael. Can you name me one thing we have in common? Just one," she said. She watched as his brow furrowed and he wet his lips nervously.
Finally he smiled. "We both like movies."
"You like movies."
"All right. Well, we both like to go out to eat."
"Good Lord, Michael, that's because neither of us cooks." She grabbed his arm, squeezing hard as if that would make him understand. "The closest thing we have in common is when football season comes around and I like to watch the game with you. With you and Jeff and Miles and Russell, that is." She dropped her hand. "Don't you see, Michael? You love your games, your big TV, your season tickets, your friends. We're here in this apartment because Jeff and the guys live here. We could afford a house, but you didn't want to. Because you love it here."
"It's a nice apartment. I didn't see the need in rushing into a house."
"Oh, Michael, that's not the point. It's us. Do we even really know each other?" She raised her hands. "Do I want to have kids?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess."
She stared at him. "Do you?"
"Well, someday, yeah. I guess so."
She gave a sad smile. "Isn't it strange that we never talked about that? Who plans to get married and they don't even know if the other wants kids or not?"
"Leslie, I think you're blowing this a little out of proportion here, don't you?" His eyes narrowed. "Did you start your period again?"
"No, Michael, this isn't about my hormones.
" She took a deep breath. "I'm trying to tell you that I can't marry you." She knew he would be upset. She expected that. But the look of devastation that crossed his face was nearly too much for her. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"You want to call off the wedding?" he asked quietly. "You want to...break up?"
She met his eyes. "Yes." And of course, his next question was not unexpected.
"You've met someone, haven't you?"
But she'd inflicted enough wounds for one night. There was no need to tell him about Casey or about the lie she'd been living. So she shook her head. "This has nothing to do with meeting someone else, Michael. It's just about us. And we just don't fit together."
He slammed his fist down on the counter. "And you've just now come to that conclusion? Just woke up one morning and it hit you?"
She deserved his anger, yes. But it was still shocking. He'd never once raised his voice with her. She kept her voice even, her gaze steady. "I think we should stop right here, Michael. Before either of us says something we'll regret."
He lowered his head. "I'm sorry. I just can't believe this," he whispered. "It's just out of the blue."
"Think about it, Michael. Is it really out of the blue? Think about it."
He rubbed his head, brushing the hair off of his forehead over and over again, his eyes darting nervously around the room. "Well, I...I can go stay with Jeff. You can stay here. We can--"
"No. This is your apartment, not mine. I'm just going to pack a few clothes and I'll get a room for the weekend. Next week, we'll talk. We'll see about our stuff," she said. God, how can breaking up be so civilized?
But no, it wasn't. Suddenly, the look in his eyes changed. He grabbed her arm tightly.
"I think we're just giving up too fast. We're not fighting for this. Let's go to counseling," he said, holding her in front of him. "We've got too much invested to just throw it away like this."
She stared at him. "No, Michael. Counseling will not help."
"Why not? Why won't you even try?" He dropped his hands from her, still staring at her. "I don't understand how you can just quit on this without trying? Don't you care even a little?"