“Rebound, Pt. 1” by Scripted Starlet

Rating: T for now. M for later.

Disclaimer: Hey, if I owned even a quarter of the Law & Order franchise, do you think I’d be dispersing flowers for a living?

Setting: Before the drama of Season 6, I suppose.

A.N. Only a true beta would bust her butt at one in the morning, Marion.

This story sprang from a need for relief from all the angst from “Fallout”. (Uggh, so not my forte but I’m really trying for you guys. Don’t worry, I never abandon stories. But breaks are necessary every so often.) And also from a longing to explore my narrative voice and move beyond the “Intercession” universe.

It was very easy for Robert Goren to tell when his partner was not her cheery self. Even easier to determine the reason why. And when Alexandra Eames met him for coffee that morning, with sallow in her cheeks and sulk on her mouth, he just knew that her Saturday night had been a disaster. Yet again, Mr. Right had turned out to be Mr. Wrong.

“Another one, eh?”

“Oh, yes,” she seethed, shaking her sugar packet furiously like it was no man’s business. “And not only is he not divorced, not only is he not an investment banker, and not only is he not—and this is very important Goren, so you had better listen up…”

He obediently straightened.

“…a Pisces,” she added, making him laugh, “but he is a father, Bobby. Of four. A fucking father of four who lied to me about everything.”

“How’d you find out?”

“His wallet. Like the idiot that he is, he left it on the table while he was making himself at home on my couch. And that’s when I saw the children. Gorgeous. All fucking four of them—gorgeous! And his license with his actual birth date, and the Sears Christmas portrait of his not so homely wife who, by the way, doesn’t look like the monster he was complaining about over dinner, and his business card, and his—”

“So what does he do, really?” Bobby interrupted, taking Alex’s cup away from her and fixing the rest of her brew before she spilled.

“He’s an accountant,” she said. Goren had started to take a sip of his own mother’s milk when she muttered, “Sexy, huh?”

He choked, very nearly spitting it out.

“Oh, Eames,” he gasped, “how do you always pick the winners?”

“I don’t pick them, Goren. They pick me. And I don’t know how to stop them. All I know is I just can’t take another one of these married liars, Bobby, I just can’t. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!”

“Well…” he ventured, smiling and offering her a token of sympathy. “You could always just run away with me, Eames. Make me the happiest man on the planet.”

It was something that he simply said. Something he would’ve said to any female friend that he cared about and who was down in the dumps.

But the thoughtful expression that flickered across Alex’s face just then, as she stirred her coffee and smirked with her eyes, made Bobby just the teensiest bit nervous.

“You know what, Goren?” she replied, tapping a fingernail against her lower lip, “I may have to take you up on that.”

He’d laughed uncomfortably and they’d ordered some food, but if Bobby thought that that was the end of it then he was gravely mistaken.

Because less than twenty-four hours after they’d had the conversation was when it happened.

That’s when the flirting began.

…

Alex came into the precinct that Monday with a little sashay in her step. Goren heard a couple of low whistles and, intrigued by howls this early in the day, looked up from his usual suspects. There she was, his tiny little partner in a pair of pants so low and tight and a white knit top so clean and snug that he could see the outline of her push-up bra—framing and clinging to the curves of her bosom.

Has she always been this stacked? he wondered idly.

But what he said was, “You look good.”

Eames grinned politely in response, sitting down and whipping out her pen without comment.

Bobby tried to go back to work but he couldn’t help glancing across the desks every so often. Because not only did Alex look incredibly good, she also smelled incredibly good this morning. Her skin was giving off something sweet and enticing that didn’t so much remind him of flowers as fruit. Ripe, succulent mangos and apricots. Crisp, tart pears and squirts of citrus. And what was that lingering there… near her clavicle? Was it just a hint of vanilla?

His senses flared trying to pinpoint and categorize.

Eames then lifted a manicured hand and parted the stream of hair that hung over her face. Sweeping it behind her ear and making way for a delicate sparkle. Earrings, Bobby noted. Diamond studs, to be exact.

“So what’ve you… got a hot date, tonight?”

If Alex was at all startled by the abruptness of the man’s question, she didn’t show it.

“No.” She turned a page. “What makes you say that?”

“You—you just seem a little fancy for a regular work day.”

“It’s not that ‘fancy’, Bobby,” she tsked, meeting his eyes. “I only wanted to look nice for you.”

Goren’s jaw went loose but not completely slack as he gathered his speech.

“For me?” he repeated.

“Well, why not?” Alex rested her elbows on the edge of the desk and leaned forward so subtly he doubted anyone else caught it. But he did. He caught both of them, front and center. “You always come to work dressed pretty elegant. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the view.”

Bobby was enjoying the view, too. In fact, he was enjoying it so much that he felt an unfamiliar heat stir his loins and fill his face. But it wasn’t the sensation itself that was so unfamiliar. It was the source.

Outrageously flustered, he managed, “You don’t have to dress up to match me, Eames. Everybody already knows that we make a great team.”

The trickle of laughter she spouted dripped down Goren’s ears, spiking his blood flow and singeing his veins.

“We do, don’t we?”

…

Tuesday afternoon Alex and Bobby were undercover in the Upper Crust, an event planning facility in Greenwich that catered to weddings, especially. The idea was for Eames to be finicky and Goren to be bored while the latter scoped out the scene. The only problem was that once the pair was in couple mode, one detective was finding it inordinately hard to shake off the other.

“I want gardenias for our centerpieces,” Alex chirped, a hint of effrontery to her upper crust accent. “It was what my grandmother had in mind, isn’t that right, darling?”

“Yes, yes, I seem to remember her saying that,” Bobby said, trying to pull away from where their arms were linked without throwing his ‘fiancé’ off balance.

“I take it this is a spring wedding?” the event organizer asked.

“Actually, we haven’t decided that—”

”Oh, yes we have!” Eames peeped, obstructing him as she pivoted, bringing her slight body in direct contact with the solid wall of his chest. “Robby, I thought you promised that we would take our vows outside. Surrounded by nature. Wasn’t that the plan? And then you were to whisk me off someplace tropical where we could—” Alex lowered her voice and Bobby swore he saw lust in her eyes, “—consummate the marriage. Y’know, all by ourselves…?”

In that instant, Robert Goren forgot about where he was. He forgot about who he was and who she was and, for that matter, who they were supposed to be. All he saw was a smoky blond nymph staring up at him with passion and purpose. And all he could think about was ravaging her on a white sanded beach, turquoise water lapping at their toes as she moaned and gasped beneath him.

Somewhere far, far away…

“We could do a tropical theme,” the woman with a clip-board suggested, her tone slightly bemused. “Bright colors, bright bridesmaids, exotic bouquets bursting in the sunlight, neon garnishes and… and perhaps some sort of barbecue for the entrée? Tell me, how do you two feel about Hawaiian cuisine?”

“We love it,” Alex purred, and Bobby went stiff as he returned to reality but Eames kept right on stroking. Working her fingers over and under the lapels of his jacket and gazing at him as though she was everything a man could ever want and she knew it.

Who are you? Bobby thought, part of him wanting to take advantage of the situation and kiss her senseless and the other part of him shocked at the impulse.

“Well, good. I guarantee it’ll be lovely. Absolutely lovely! You’ll be the envy of every woman in New York, my dear. And would you just look at this figure of yours… Oh, you’ll be hard pressed to find a train that doesn’t run you over. I can give you the number of an excellent bridal boutique that works in association with us. Does that sound all right to you?”

“What do you think, honey?” Eames asked, and by then her eyes hadn’t left his in what felt like ages.

“I think…” Bobby’s lips went dry as Alex found his hand and caressed it intimately. “I think you’d look great in any dress.”

“Now, he’s a keeper,” their planner chuckled.

“Don’t I know it,” Eames said, turning her head and her body away from Goren. Unsure of whether to be relieved or disappointed, he let their hands drop but felt his heart leap as the trace of her touch scraped the buckle of his belt.

Was that intentional?

“If you come right this way I can show you some motifs that would be work wonders…”

Seizing her cue, Alex let out a little squeal of anticipation. “Well, come on, Robby.”

“Actually,” Bobby broke, “uh, I think I’d like to hang out here until you ladies are done. If you don’t mind, Alexa.”

“Oh, but darling, don’t you care?” Goren relaxed when he saw the stirrings of mirth lift the corners of her mouth.

“Of course, I care.” He feigned impatience. “That’s why I’m letting you get anything you want, remember?”

“Anything?” Alex took a step towards him.

And his relaxation was short-lived.

“Anything.”

Stay firm, Bobby.

“Well then…” Ever the coy one, Alex rose up on her tiptoes and pecked his cheek. “That’s all the input I needed.”

Goren’s face was still tingling as Eames walked away. And just as before, it took him a little longer than he preferred to snap out of it.

…

Wednesday evening Alex insisted that they dance. The bar was dark and Bobby was tired but the woman was persistent, cracking joke after joke about not letting a good pair of legs go to waste.

“Think an awful lot of yourself, don’t you, Eames?”

“Shut up, Goren. You know I mean you.”

“Hey, I’d be happy to take the lady for a spin,” Bobby’s best friend Lewis said. And the offer was seconded by a number of detectives who’d tagged along for the outing.

“Sorry, boys.” Alex’s hand clasped his shoulder. “I’ve got my eyes on the prize.”

“Eames, if I get up now then I’m going to fall apart.”

“You don’t think I’m sturdy enough to support you, Bobby? Why don’t you try me?”

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Goren,” Logan chastised from his right. “You could do a lot worse.” His eyes went past Eames to scan the room and he groaned in disappointment. “A hell of a lot worse.”

“Thank you for that,” Alex snapped at Mike, sarcastic but not wounded. “Oh, come on, Bobby. You’re a great dancer and, like Lewis said, it’s only a spin. I promise to bring you back in one piece.”

“Promises, promises,” Bobby shrugged, rather enjoying the fact that his rather pretty partner was so eager for him.

What has gotten into her lately?

“Goren, if you don’t dance with me I will be forced to give myself to Big Bubba over there in the corner.”

All of the 1PP gang and Lewis took a moment to examine the sad, pudgy man in a worn motorcycle jacket who was leaking out of his seat at the other end of the bar. The reaction was instantaneous.

“Oh, no, Goren!”

“Honey, you’ve gotta be kidding!”

“You can’t let Eames be reduced to that!”

“Alex, I’ll give you twenty bucks to not touch him. Matter of fact, I’ll give you twenty bucks to touch me.”

“Shut up, Mike,” Bobby growled, grabbing her hand and hauling himself off the stool. “All right, Eames. One dance. For your welfare.”

Alex smiled nice and wide, and without a moment’s delay tore off her cardigan to reveal a lacey red camisole that bared most of her back and pleated her front.

Stunned for the third time in as many days, Bobby followed her stupidly. The song that was playing was an obnoxious 80s power ballad with one too many saxophones in the mix. Not his typical choice in music and not his typical choice in women, either.

So why was he getting so excited?

“You could’ve danced with anyone you wanted,” he commented, thankful that he didn’t have to move too much but worried about Alex getting too close for comfort.

“Mmm, but I wanted you.”

“Why?” The question seemed to transcend so many boundaries that he feared her answer.

“Because Bobby…” Eames rested her head against his chest and sighed, “my mother always told me don’t settle for second best.”

Alex’s arms couldn’t quite make it around his neck. Not with her square-heeled sling backs, anyhow. But she was doing a marvelous job of pressing up against his breadth, and it took every ounce of will power Bobby possessed not to trail his fingertips along the line of her spine.

Eames is very sexy, he mused. A strange thought that he’d been thinking an awful lot this week. A strange thought that, honest to goodness, disconcerted him.

Because Robert Goren thought his partner was many things. Brave, bright, ballsy and, yes, beautiful, in her own way. But sexy? Women you work with weren’t supposed to be sexy. And you weren’t supposed to have sex with women you work with.

I wonder what she’d be like in bed.

After all… there was no harm in imagining, right?

She certainly wouldn’t be one of those women who made the man do all the work. No, Eames was… Eames was much too proud for that. But she wouldn’t be one of those control freaks who wanted to dominate the entire situation, either. She’d probably enjoy lying back while he found her pleasure points. Enjoy holding him down while she found his own.

That would be you, wouldn’t it?

Goren’s breath was short and Eames’ eyes were closed as he slid his palm higher up her back, feeling a warm spread of impossibly smooth, naked skin that lent credence to his fantasies and made him harden in their wake.

This is dangerous, he realized. And suddenly he had to be away from her.

Sliding out of Alex’s grip, he said, “The song’s almost over.”

“Not quite.” And she wrenched him back.

“Eames,” Bobby struggled to keep his eyes on her face and not just her mouth, “what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing lately.”

Another joke, he gathered. And a dirty one at that.

“You don’t talk to me like this…”

“Well, that’s funny because I seem to be talking to you like this right now.”

“Ever since that thing with Gary, you’ve—”

“Don’t say his name to me. He’s old news and luckily I nipped that one in the bud before he could nip me.”

See, there you go. Telling me more than I need to know, again!

“Eames, are you sure you’re all right?” And then the song really was winding down, and Goren was grateful to approximate that there were only twenty seconds or so left. “You’ve been acting very… very…”

“What?” Alex’s face was blank but her eyes were sharp. “You know you’re acting very squeamish, Bobby. That’s not like you. Like right now. One moment we’re dancing and everything is fine and the next you’re afraid to touch me.”

“I am not afraid to—”

“Bobby…” Eames said seriously, causing him to clamp up where he stood. “I would like you to touch me.”

The song ended.