An Imperfect Process

by Mary Jo Putney

  "Not fast enough." He peeled off her cotton sweater, revealing a satiny apricot-colored bra. "It would have been more efficient to stay on our feet and undress."

  "Where's the fun in that?" She made short work of his shirt buttons while he removed his jacket.

  He shivered when she flattened her palm on his bare chest, one finger teasing his nipple. Laughter vanished into cascading lust. He'd been celibate so long that this felt like the first time. In a way it was—his life divided into before and after Jeff's prosecution and death, and he was not the same man he had been.

  He wanted to take his time and savor the sight and taste of her. Even more, he wanted to incinerate himself in raw sensation and leave savoring for later.

  Val had ideas of her own. As she pulled his zipper down, he remembered to say, "I didn't come prepared for anything like this."

  "I was a Girl Scout, so I'm always prepared. Check the drawer in the nightstand."

  A small packet of condoms waited demurely. As he pulled one out, she said a little defensively, "I hope they haven't passed their expiration date."

  Guessing that she was afraid of looking too experienced, he said, "It's damned unfair that a man who is prepared is considered responsible while a woman who does the same risks being considered a..." He halted, groping for a term that wasn't insulting.

  "I think the word you're looking for is slut," she said helpfully.

  "An ugly word that has nothing to do with you." He smiled wryly. "I hope I haven't passed my expiration date. It's been so long I may not remember how to do this."

  "It's been a long time for me as well. Too long." She slid her hand down his body. "But I'm sure we'll work it out."

  And they did, despite his being aroused to the point of mindlessness. Every garment removed was a new opportunity to kiss smooth female flesh, to inhale her intoxicating scent. She was vibrantly alive, a full-color woman who had come blazing into his monochromatic existence. He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him.

  With a purring sound, she feasted on his mouth while adjusting her body over his. The touch of bare skin on bare skin was electrifying. He was almost unbearably excited, and when she sank onto him, exquisite pleasure almost pushed him over the edge. His long celibacy had deepened his awareness, made every nerve ending painfully sensitive.

  She held very still, her breasts brushing his chest, while he struggled for the control to prolong their lovemaking. Then she began pulsing into him with small movements that drove him mad.

  Intoxicated, he knew nothing beyond the moment, the woman, the joy and freedom of passion. Their mating was swift and sweaty, with Val's climax triggering his own. He came with a shuddering groan, saying her name over and over as he buried his face in the springy tangle of her hair.

  As he struggled for breath, he realized that this was more than great sex. This was emotional transformation that had dragged him from paralysis into a new and dangerous world. One where he could be hurt again.

  He had an absurd desire to say that he loved her, yet how could that be when they still had so much to learn about each other? And what did he know about love?

  "Oh, my..." Val said on a soft exhalation. "I've forgotten all the reasons why this might not be a good idea." She slid off him to her side, where he could study her beautiful little body. What a symphony of curves she was, every part of her an invitation to touch.

  Under his scrutiny, Val shifted uncomfortably and reached for the sheet. He covered her hand with his. "Don't hide. I want to admire you."

  "Rubens would have admired me, but this body isn't fashionable right now." Though her tone was light, she was clearly self-conscious.

  He felt a wave of tenderness that even a woman as smart as Val couldn't quite escape the feeling that she ought to be skin and bones. What a crazy society they lived in, where a beautiful woman considered herself flawed.

  "You aren't even close to Rubens proportions." He cupped her breast, his thumb slowly teasing the nipple. "You're what used to be called a pocket Venus—petite but perfectly, sexily proportioned. A feast for the eyes, and all other senses as well."

  "That does sound much nicer." She arched appreciatively into his hand. "I'm going to be tired tomorrow, but this is worth it."

  "I didn't think angels of mercy got tired."

  "I'm no angel of mercy. Actually, I don't think that lawyers get to be angels at all—it would be professional misconduct."

  He smiled, but realized that this was the moment where second thoughts might appear. Luckily, Val didn't appear to have any. She skimmed her palm across his chest. "If I had known it would be like this, I would have jumped you the first time we met."

  "It wouldn't have been like this then." He tried to keep regret from his voice as he recognized that emotionally they were in very different places. Though she was happy, open, and glad to be in this bed, the earth hadn't moved for her as it had for him.

  Catching his mood, if not the reason for it, she said, "You were concerned that I might have morning-after regrets. I won't, but will you?"

  He caught her hand, lacing his fingers between hers. "None at all, but... I guess I'm wondering what comes next."

  "We take it one day at a time, of course. We seem to get along well both in and out of bed. Isn't that enough for tonight?"

  "I don't think I'll ever get enough of you."

  He could feel her withdraw fractionally. She was definitely not in a mood for emotional declarations. Lightly he continued, "I hope I don't get added to the list of mistakes you've made with men. Where would I fit in?"

  She smiled, relaxed again. "So far, you show no signs of being a mistake. I've done all the stupid things. Believed a married man once when I was so young my stupidity was almost forgivable. Dated a few separated men over the years, until I realized that every time I got even a little bit involved with one, bad things happened because separated people are always screwed up. I tried to fix a few wounded guys that I thought needed me." She wrinkled her nose. "That one is really dumb. And let's not even start on the workaholics. What about you? I seem to recall seeing a picture during the scandal days when you were with a woman described as your fiancée."

  "That was Janice Hale, a terrific game designer who was as involved with her career as I was with mine. It suited us to hang out together when we both had time." They had been safe, pleasant sleeping partners who knew better than to ask too much of each other. "I mostly made only one mistake, but it went on and on and on. I was always too busy to get seriously involved. During the media feeding frenzy Jan was a loyal friend, but never my fiancée. When my concern with Jeff's case took over my life, there wasn't any room left for her."

  He had been relieved when Jan phoned him and said calmly that it was time to go their separate ways. He had nothing left for her, and she deserved better. "She married another game designer a couple of years ago, had a baby, and the last I heard, she was working on games for toddlers. Dancing elephants and playful bears and the like."

  "Thereby proving that workaholics can change their stripes, at least partially." Val grimaced. "I should ask her for tips on how to do it."

  "Surely the first step is to want to change, and you're there already."

  "My mind is, but my body is still racing like a gerbil on a wheel. I'll be glad when I wind things up at Crouse, Resnick and move out to the church. Being in that atmosphere is bound to slow me down."

  Her voice was a little wistful. Maybe the earth hadn't moved for her, but she was trying to change her life. If he was patient, perhaps she would find the time to fall in love. "Only a couple of weeks until you move into your new office. Since my apartment is upstairs from that, I can volunteer my services in helping you to relax if you find yourself getting too wound up." He leaned forward to kiss one lovely full breast, moving his tongue in a slow circle.

  She sucked in her breath, eyes glowing. "Oddly enough, I'm beginning to feel wound up again right now."

  He blew gently into her navel. "We'll bo
th be tired tomorrow, but at the moment, it's impossible to give a damn."

  She laughed as she reached for him again. "Luckily, I don't need much sleep."

  "Good. I have a number of years to make up for. This time, let's not rush."

  He had wanted raw passion to be succeeded by slow savoring, and that's what he got. Though the first time might have been mostly sex, now they made love with emotion rooted in a desire to please. She was exquisitely responsive, like a musical instrument created by a master craftsman. He hadn't known how intensely arousing it was to make love to a woman who was so open and joyous in her pleasure.

  Long rapturous orgasms left them both drained to the point of incoherence. Val managed to pull the covers over them before falling asleep. He was grateful for her tacit permission to spend the night—it would have been hell to haul himself from her bed and make his way home. Infinitely better to fall asleep with her tucked against his chest, flyaway red curls tickling his chin.

  Yet despite the exhaustion of their lovemaking, he slept lightly and woke early. There was just enough dawn light to show the planes of Val's face. He supposed she wasn't technically beautiful, but he found her face enchanting. A wickedly intelligent elf.

  He was tempted to kiss that full lower hp, but when he tried to move he found that he was sandbagged between Val and the cats. Not wanting to wake everyone, he relaxed again, his only movement to cup his hand around Val's breast.

  Sleep hadn't eliminated his feeling that he had found something rare and special with her. He needed to develop a better understanding of love—for starters, he'd like to believe he was capable of it. Then he needed to figure out how to be lovable enough that a woman like Val might fall in love with him. Like that was going to happen.

  Living a life in full color wasn't going to be easy after so many years in monochrome.

  * * *

  Val awoke with a shiver of pure delight as she registered the feel of Rob's body against hers. She stretched, every cell in her body tingling with satisfaction. She had almost forgotten how great sex could be. No, it wasn't just the sex that made her feel so good—it was Rob, who brought mesmerizing concentration to making love. She had never been with a man who was so wholly in the moment. And he really was a beautiful physical specimen—firm and fit and splendidly proportioned.

  His eyes opened. The light color was still startling, but not icy at all. She leaned forward to brush a kiss on his lips. "I feel like Cinderella after the ball, returning to her work of scrubbing bricks or whatever it was Cinders did on a normal workday."

  He returned the kiss with interest. "I don't suppose there's any hope of persuading you to have one last dance."

  She was calculating whether there might be time for a quickie when her alarm clock went off. She bopped its button, resenting the way it had blasted her into reality. "Alas, no. I have time for a fast shower and if you're interested I can rustle up some eggs and bacon, but I have to be out the door in an hour. I have a ton of work to do if I'm ever to break free of my uptown job."

  She liked that he released her rather than trying to change her mind. There was a time for play and a time for work, and a man who tried to seduce her when her mind was on the job was irritating, not romantic.

  "I'll console the cats while you shower." He raised her hand and kissed it with a tenderness that melted her. "Breakfast would be great. Is it okay if I use your shower?"

  "Of course." Reminding herself of her day's calendar, she slid from the bed, grabbed her bathrobe from the closet, and headed for the bathroom. Days like this, she was glad for her bizarre but low maintenance hair. Within ten minutes she emerged from the bathroom finger-combing the curly red mass. "The shower is all yours."

  "You're fast." He removed Damocles from his chest and climbed from the bed. "Don't you have to dry your hair?"

  Frankly staring at his splendidly naked body, she tossed him a set of navy blue towels. "A dryer would turn my hair into a frizzy red tumbleweed. If I had to go to court or see clients today, I'd pull it back, but since I'll be working in the office, I can take the easy way, which means shaping my hair with my hands and letting it dry on its own."

  "What about when the weather is cold? Won't a wet head give you pneumonia or something?"

  She laughed. "I've actually had my hair freeze when I've dashed out in icy weather, but no pneumonia yet."

  He shook his head. "Amazing. The things I don't know about women."

  She liked the twinkle in his eyes as he headed into the shower. In fact, she liked everything about him. Despite the short night, she glowed with energy as she donned a tailored pantsuit, made a swift pass with her makeup, and skipped downstairs to the kitchen.

  First, feed the cats. That was inviolable law. By the time her furry friends had completed their first graze at the bowls, she had coffee dripping and bacon in the microwave. Mixing eggs with parsley and a dash of cheese was done while a burner heated up on the stove. As a woman who liked to eat proper food but never had enough time, she had kitchen efficiency down to a science.

  When she heard the shower turn off, she pushed down the toaster lever and started scrambling her eggs, setting the table in the bay-windowed breakfast nook while they cooked. She was pouring orange juice when Rob entered the kitchen.

  His appearance triggered sharp dissonance as his quiet, professorial image clashed with the memory of last night's passionate lover. The result was unexpected shyness.

  The silence lasted only a moment before he crossed the kitchen and drew her into a reassuring hug that dissolved all morning-after awkwardness. "You're incredible," he murmured. "A beautiful woman, a kitchen perfumed with bacon and coffee, and enough memories of last night to keep me smiling like the Cheshire cat all day. May I call you Wonder Woman?"

  She laughed, at ease again. "As long as you smile when you say it."

  Breakfast was relaxed, if not lingering. Rob was easy to have around. Just when she was thinking she needed to get moving, he glanced at his watch. "Tune for me to go if you're to keep on schedule."

  He got to his feet and cleared his plate and silverware to the sink. "I'm not quite sure what one day at a time means in this situation. On the work end, I'll let you know if my investigations turn up anything interesting. On the personal side, I'd like to take you out to dinner when you can fit me into the schedule."

  She thought a moment, glad he understood how busy she was at the moment. "Next Saturday?"

  "It's a deal." He bent to give her a light, sweet kiss. "Thank you, Val. I feel more alive than I have in years."

  Then he left, tote bag of files in hand. Instead of bolting from the house herself, she stood motionless, touching her fingertips to her lips. Rob was the nicest thing that had happened to her in a long, long time.

  But she didn't have time to think about that now. With a quick shake of her head, she darted up the steps to renew her lipstick and put on earrings, which she had forgotten earlier. The morning would be spent preparing for a hearing the next day. In the afternoon, she had to brief another partner on a case he was taking over since she was leaving. Plus, at least three important phone calls that must be made first thing.

  Delicately perched on the Corian vanity in her bathroom was an origami bird. She lifted it wonderingly, balancing the feather weight on her palm. Rob had taken a piece of yellow lined legal paper and transformed it into this magical creature. A crane, she thought.

  She unexpectedly found herself blinking hard as she remembered Jimmy, a young musician she had dated in college. Charming, talented, and self-destructive, he was the only other man she'd ever known who might have done something so whimsical and romantic. One of the boyfriends she had tried to save, Jimmy had died of a drug overdose a year or so after they broke up.

  Who could have guessed that a carpenter/Marine/computer wizard could be as romantic as a doomed musician? Not that Rob didn't have plenty of baggage of his own, but at least he didn't seem self-destructive. Maybe she was making progress on the relationshi
p front.

  Or maybe not. Time would tell. Lightly she kissed the origami beak before setting the crane down and heading into her day.

  Chapter 11

  Rob found himself whistling as he swung into his truck. Life might have become more complicated overnight, but for the first time in years, he was looking forward to challenges rather than trying to hide from them.

  Since he and Val had laid out plans for the investigation, today he'd discover how rusty his skills were. Luckily, his most recent renovation was finished with the new residents ready to move in, so he could devote all of his attention to Daniel Monroe's case.

  Despite the years that had passed since the original crime, there would still be some information out there if he dug hard enough. Given how cursory the original police investigation had been, there might be a lot of information if he looked in the right places. The question was where to start.

  As he headed toward Northern Parkway, his cell phone rang. He sighed and pulled over to the curb. If there was one thing he should have learned by now, it's that life seldom went according to plan.

  "Hi, boss, it's Sha'wan," his caller said cheerfully. "The Crabtown shopping center got hit by taggers again last night. Can you come help clean it up?"

  Rob hesitated, thinking of his investigation. But it was important to obliterate graffiti quickly, and Sha'wan was teaching a class at the Fresh Air community center that afternoon. The two of them should be able to take care of this job in a couple of hours if they worked together. "I'll be there in half an hour."

  As he headed for his apartment to change his clothes, he realized that the Crabtown shopping center was near where Officer Jim Malloy was killed, and Kendra and Daniel had lived only a few blocks away. It looked like he was being given some direction on where to start his investigation.

  * * *

  Like Kensington, the neighborhood it served, Crabtown had seen better days but still functioned. The small strip center included a locally owned supermarket, a dollar store, a hair salon, a fried chicken and crab house, a shoemaker, and a couple of other small shops. Today, the center also had graffiti blaring on the sides and the upper level, which was home to several offices.