"Blood Seduction"

Vicki and Devian sat across from each other sharing a late lunch at the Tavern on the Green. Sara had told her friend about her impromptu midweek getaway with Ian – leaving out the juicier sections – and the restaurant had popped into Vicki’s mind when her own opportunity had arisen. Not that she expected Dev to sweep her off to the Sherry Netherland after dessert. Although…“What are you thinking?” he asked her, “You got quiet and your eyes went far away.” With an effort, Vicki returned from her sudden mental orgy amid satin sheets. “Just daydreaming about dessert,” she replied. The clone grinned. “You need to watch that,” he teased her, “Keep your mind on the dish that’s in front of you or you might miss out.” She looked directly into those tawny golden eyes and replied, “Believe me. My mind is fully focused on the dish that’s in front of me.” She was utterly charmed when he blushed. Vicki didn’t quite understand the effect that he had on her. Although she had always thought that Ian was a beautiful man, she had never seriously envied her friend or had elaborate fantasies involving Sara’s lover. From the first moment that she had seen Devian, however, she had been absolutely knocked on her pins. He exerted a visceral pull on her poor quivering libido that was undeniable. It was all she could do to keep from sweeping the delicate china and ornate cutlery from their tasteful table so that she could drag him down upon it and just have at him. She fanned herself with her napkin, thinking, “Get a grip, Vick. Get a grip.” That, of course, led to an entirely new erotic train of thought.

Dev had dropped his eyes. Vicki was appreciating the way that his lush lashes looked against his pale cheeks when he fixed her again with that jungle-cat gaze and asked, “Have you known Sara long?” She relaxed, thinking that they were back on neutral ground when, in fact, she was about to enter a mine field. “We’ve been friends for several years,” she said, “How about you? Did you meet her at the same time that Ian did?” The clone shook his head and replied, “I only met her very recently. Until the last few weeks, I’ve been kind of out of touch.” And sight, sound, taste, and hearing too, the clone thought; being suspended in a stasis chamber tended to keep you out of circulation. “Yeah,” Vicki responded, “I heard about that.” Devian stopped breathing, eyes wide with shock. “What’s China like?” she asked. He expelled a relieved breath as his mind sped furiously to catch up. What to say? He settled on, “Different.” She raised a brow. “Than what?” she asked. He smiled charmingly. “Here,” he replied. She studied him curiously. He was very cautious. “What’s he hiding?” she wondered. Dev cleared his throat and smoothed out the already flat tablecloth with his hand. “So, do you think they make a good couple?” he asked, “Sara and my brother?” She shrugged, not sure how to answer that. “They haven’t been together very long, have they,” she responded, “But they seem happy. I think things got a lot easier between them once he stopped working for Kenneth Irons. I think that whole bodyguard thing kind of unnerved Sara. Then, too, Ian seemed to be stalking her for a while. Now that I think about it, there has been a sort of bizarre progression to their relationship.”

When Devian didn’t say anything, Vicki asked, “Are you and Ian close?” He almost laughed. “Like peas in a test tube,” he thought. Aloud, he said, “Not really. He was raised by the old man, while I…wasn’t,” he ended lamely. She wondered whether he was trying to be mysterious or whether he just couldn’t help it. “You must have been separated from Ian when you were very young,” she said, “Did your parents raise you? Are they still alive?” The smile that Dev now bestowed upon her had an edge. “You ask a lot of questions, doctor,” he observed. She colored a little, flustered. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, “It goes with the territory, I guess. When you spend most of your day looking for answers, it’s hard to stop asking questions.” He shrugged. “Some questions don’t have any answers,” he murmured. Like who your parents are? she wondered – but she didn’t say it. He was worth some time and effort, and she could be patient. Vicki saw him sneak a glance at the Spiderman watch on his left wrist. Her emotions were mixed. She was disappointed that he wasn’t as enthralled as she was and she was amused by the watch. He definitely had style; a bit unusual but also inimitably his own. She decided to make it easy for him. If she did, she might get the greater reward that she was after. “Got an appointment?” she asked. Dev nodded. “Ian and I have to make the funeral arrangements this afternoon,” he said. Vicki winced. That was not exactly the lead-in that she wanted. She decided to go for it anyway. “Of course,” she conceded, “We better get going then. But maybe we can pick this up again when you have more time? Would you like to come to dinner on Friday night? I’ll even cook.”

And that was the opening that he had been waiting for. “I’d like that,” he agreed, “Perhaps you could have Sara and Ian over as well? With all that’s been going on, we haven’t been able to spend very much time together. I’d like to get to know the woman that my brother is living with a little better too.” As he had hoped, she took the bait. “Sure,” Vicki agreed, “I’ll ask them. If they don’t already have plans, I’m sure they’ll come.” After all, Vicki thought, they lived right upstairs. They wouldn’t stay all night and, when they left, she would still have Dev to herself. Maybe she could even find out more about him if she brought the Nottingham twins together and got them talking. It should be interesting, Vicki thought. All she would have to do is get past the strange resistance that Sara seemed to have toward Devian. Sara was a close friend and Vicki loved her dearly but she also knew her weaknesses. Sara occasionally reacted to people too quickly, irrationally loving them or hating them with an intensity that was disconcerting. Dev obviously fell into the latter category for no logical reason that was apparent to Vicki. Granted, he had played with her head at their first meeting but he had apologized for that. And, in all truth, his little peccadillo had been opportunistic and ballsy but certainly not evil. Vicki had seen nothing to warrant the dire warnings that Sara had given her regarding Devian.

Back at the Precinct, Sara, Danny, and Ian had shared carryout lunch from the deli across the street in their small office. Ian made himself at home at Jake’s desk. The rookie had been out of the office for the last two days testifying in court. Ian had to do some quick thinking when Danny wanted to talk about the classes that Devian had actually taught at the dojo the previous evening. He managed to get through the conversation without alerting Sara’s partner to the deception that had recently ended. When they finished, Sara and Danny went back to work while Ian used Jake’s phone to make some calls. Even though he had not yet officially been designated as Kenneth Irons’ heir, there was no one else to make the funeral arrangements and begin to settle the estate. A myriad of small details had to be addressed and Ian had naturally stepped forward to take care of them. Though Ian’s relationship to Mr. Irons had never been formally acknowledged, many of those who had worked for him simply assumed that Ian was Kenneth’s son. That made Ian’s twin brother, Devian, Irons’ son as well. Such assumptions, even without anything to back them up, allowed Ian and Dev to make the decisions that were required to bury Irons and to turn his empire over to his heir without a hitch.

Irons’ murder had been solved. There were no loose ends. A settlement had been reached and no trial would be held. The prosecutor and defense attorney had agreed that Helga Strauss was not competent to stand trial. Instead, she would be sent to a mental health facility until such time as she was able to be tried for the murder. The aged cook was being transferred to an institution in upstate New York that afternoon. Devian had already been to see her in jail before he met his brother at the Precinct. Ian would go to see her there shortly so that he could confirm what Dev had already told her. She would only be at the facility a couple of months before they would arrange her “death” and relocate her to the small town in New Mexico where her only living relative – a sister – lived. There, she would have more than enough money to live out the remainder of her life in luxury. With the crime solved and off the books, Mr. Irons’ body had been released to the mortuary. As Devian had told Vicki, he and Ian had an appointment that afternoon to make the arrangements for the funeral. The lawyers had already notified both Ian and Devian that the will would be read the following Monday afternoon at the N.Y.C. offices of Wolfram and Hart. Everything was coming together as the clone had originally planned. It was just happening sooner since Mrs. Strauss had taken the elimination of Mr. Irons out of their hands.

Ian put down the phone and glanced over to see his brother and Vicki coming toward them. Dr. Po was looking up at Devian with shining eyes and Ian felt a quick clutch of dread in his belly. What had the clone done now? Sara had been talking to Danny and her voice trailed off too. Ian turned his head to see that her eyes were fixed on the advancing couple. They stopped in the open doorway. Devian seemed very tall as he stood behind the petite coroner. “Hey,” Vicki said into the silent room. Sara looked at her friend and replied, “Hey yourself. How was lunch?” Vicki stared up at Dev over her shoulder and smiled. He turned that sexy, cocky smile of his back down on her. Sara felt a sudden, irrational stab of jealousy that startled her so much she dropped the pen that she had been holding. As she bent down to pick it up and get herself together, she heard Vicki say, “Lunch was lovely. I have something to ask you.” Sara sat back up, giving her friend a bland expression. “What can I do for you?” she asked. Vicki frowned, feeling the tension in the room. “I’ve asked Devian to come over for dinner on Friday night,” she said, “I’d like you and Ian to come too. You don’t even have to bring anything. I’ll do all the cooking. Please come.” All of that had come out in a rush as if she was afraid that Sara would refuse before she could even finish speaking. Dev put his hand casually on Vicki’s shoulder and turned his smile toward Sara. Eyes fixed on that long-fingered hand, Sara said, “Alright. We’ll be there.” Now, Ian spoke for the first time. “We will?” he asked, surprised.

Sara turned to her lover, her cheeks coloring slightly. “I’m sorry, baby,” she said, “I should have checked with you first to see if you had plans.” Ian shook his head, looking a bit confused. “No,” he replied, “No plans. It’s fine, I guess.” He couldn’t imagine why Sara would choose to spend a night in the clone’s company knowing the way that she felt about him. Perhaps she was trying to protect her friend. They would have to talk about this later so that he understood her motives. Any attempt to protect Vicki was going to be a losing battle and could actually backfire. She was a grown woman, after all. Ultimately, she would do as she pleased. Vicki pushed a hand through her hair as she turned to face Devian. “I better get back to work,” she said, smiling up at him, “I enjoyed lunch. Thank you.” He caught her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. Sara sucked in a breath as she watched the clone use a gesture that was characteristic of Ian. It was disconcerting. “The pleasure was mine,” Devian said smoothly, releasing Vicki’s hand. “See you on Friday then,” Vicki said, eyes starry, “Seven o’clock.” Dev nodded as she backed away from him. “Seven o’clock,” he agreed. Vicki disappeared down the staircase. Sara’s eyes followed her friend. She felt like she was watching a train wreck but was powerless to stop it or warn any of the victims.

Sara was itching to ask the clone what game he was playing at but she had to bite her tongue because Danny was watching the interactions with avid curiosity. His finely tuned antennae were picking up all kinds of weird vibes in the room. Devian glanced at his watch and then at his brother. “Ready?” he asked. Ian nodded, rose, and moved to Sara’s desk to slant a soft kiss across her lips. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Still up for a special date tonight, just the two of us?” She turned her head to look into his luminous, golden eyes. “I can’t wait,” she whispered back. Sara stretched up to press her lips to his again just as Dev said petulantly, “If we don’t leave now, we’re going to be late.” Without turning to look at him, Ian answered, “Then we’ll be late.” Sara smiled, running two fingers down his bearded cheek. “You better go,” she said, “I’m looking forward to this evening.” Ian stood and walked over to where his brother waited impatiently in the doorway. Ian looked back to say, “So am I.” He waved to Danny and added, “See you tomorrow night at the dojo.” Still looking confused, Sara’s partner nodded and waved back. Dev said goodbye to Danny too before turning to grin at Sara. “See you Friday night,” he promised slyly, then followed Ian to the stairs. Watching his broad back depart, Sara grimaced. “Yeah,” she growled, “Swell.” Her partner studied her with narrowed eyes. “If you didn’t want to go, why did you say you would?” he asked. She dropped her eyes and mumbled, “It’s complicated.” Danny opened his mouth, but Sara quickly added, “And nothing I really want to get into right now. Okay?” He sighed, wondering if and when life would get back to normal – when all he had to worry about was the next murder and what kind of ice cream would satisfy Lee’s craving that day. “Okay,” he agreed, gathering up the remains of his lunch and pitching crumpled papers into the trash.

Just outside the Precinct, Ian turned to Dev and said, “Why don’t we take my car?” He inclined his head toward the jeep parked directly in front of them. Ian had brought the jeep in case Sara had wanted to go out to lunch. He knew that his flashy jaguar embarrassed her. The clone made a face and said, “Let’s take my car.” He inclined his head toward the red jag, looking like a rocket idling at the curb across the street. The clone saw the hint of hesitation and dove right in. “I’ll drop you back here when we’re done,” he added. Ian nodded and the brothers crossed the street. They got in the car and Dev hit the accelerator. It turned out that there was very little to do at the funeral home other than sign papers and write checks. Irons had left detailed arrangements for his funeral. Surprisingly, it was to be a brief, low-key affair. There was to be no viewing and no formal funeral. He was to be cremated and his ashes were to preside over the Great Room of the mansion, in a tasteful container, from a vantage point on the mantel above the huge fireplace. When Ian installed his master in his new home, he was to say a brief quote from Byron:

“’Tis to create, and in creating live
A being more intense, that we endow
With what form our fancy, gaining as we give
The life we image.”

Neither of them understood what it meant and this paltry farewell to the man that had dominated both of their lives seemed terribly anticlimactic. When they were finished with the undertaker, the brothers went back to the mansion to go through some papers. As they sat at the long, library table in the Great Room, Devian lifted his head and asked, “Where’s Immo? Have you seen him today?” Ian didn’t look up from the contract that he was reading. “No. I haven’t seen him,” he answered, “Considering our last encounter, I imagine that he’s staying out of my way – which is wise. Why?” The clone cleared his throat. “I had my own ‘encounter’ with him this morning,” he said, “He knows something; some nasty surprise that the old man is going to spring on us from the grave. He said something to the effect that we thought we had won, but that it wasn’t over yet. I have a bad feeling.” Now, Ian raised his head. “Do you?” he asked rhetorically. There was a long pause before Dev sighed. “Look, Ian,” he replied, “I know that you’re pissed at me. I’ll tell you, as a courtesy, that I’m sorry for what happened between Sara and me but the truth is that I’m not sorry; not one bit. I love her and I want to be her lover. I don’t want to replace you, but I won’t give her up either.”

“Not give her up, you fucking idiot?” Ian hissed, “Why can’t you get it through your thick head that she’s sick over last night? She wasn’t in control of what happened; the Witchblade was driving. Sara doesn’t want to touch you again with a ten-foot pole.” Devian’s eyes flashed with pain before he dropped them to look at the table. “I don’t believe that,” he murmured, “I know the Blade made us lovers but I also know that there was more to it than that.” Ian shook his head and said, “You’re kidding yourself, little brother. The sooner you accept that, the less pain you’ll be courting. Let it go. Move on.” Devian’s head came up again and now the wide, golden eyes were defiant. “Could you?” he asked, “If it were you, could you let it go? Move on?” There was another long pause before Ian sighed and answered, “No. I guess I couldn’t.” Ian smiled bitterly, adding, “I guess we are a lot alike after all, aren’t we?” Dev managed his cocky grin. “Yeah,” he agreed, “We are – except I dress a lot better.” Ian snorted. Then, his eyes fixed on the clone’s right hand. “By the way, I want my ring back,” he said, “Now.” Dev smiled. He slipped Excalibur off his right hand and passed it across the table to his brother. “I’m going to miss that,” he said, “It’s a shame I didn’t come out of the stasis chamber with my own object of power.” Ian winced. “God forbid,” he murmured.

“You need to keep something in mind, brother,” Dev said, “Both you and Sara.” Ian studied Devian with narrowed eyes. “What’s that?” he asked. The clone’s smile was charming. “I’m on your side,” he replied, “Something’s coming at us, Ian. The Witchblade knows it. Immo knows it. I don’t know what it is, but I know that it’s coming. You’re going to need me. And the thing is – you have me. I’m connected to you both through the Blade. I’m your brother and I’m in love with the Wielder. Don’t be stupid. Don’t keep trying to alienate me, both of you. Use me.” Ian studied Dev thoughtfully. “You haven’t speculated – about what might be coming – about what might have prompted the Witchblade to do what it did?” he asked. Dev shrugged. “Sure I have,” he replied, “I couldn’t come up with anything that made sense. The old man was the biggest threat that faced us. He’s dead. We should be in fat city. Instead, I feel like an axe is hanging over my head. What about you?” Ian nodded. “If something happened to me,” he said, “Now Sara would still have a Protector.” Devian shook his head, grinning. “Two are better than one, bro,” he countered, “That’s just as logical.” Ian was forced to smile back at the irrepressible clone as he gathered papers together and slipped them into a file jacket.

Ian stood and said, “I think we’re done here. I need to go and disassemble the surveillance room now.” As he turned, Dev held up a hand. Ian stopped. “I already did that,” he said. Ian looked surprised. “You did?” he asked, “What did you do with the tapes? Did you disable all the monitors and close down the camera feed?” The clone took a deep breath, then responded, “I did. Yes. I shredded the tapes. And, yes, I disabled the monitors and killed the camera feed.” Ian narrowed his eyes. “All the tapes?” he asked. Devian cleared his throat. There was another pause before he mumbled, “Almost all the tapes.” Ian shook his head. “Not good enough,” he said. Dev looked his brother in the eyes. “I won’t give up the tape of Sara and I,” he said, “I swear that no one else will ever get their hands on it, but I won’t let it go. If she doesn’t change her mind, it may be all I ever have.” Ian shook his head. “She won’t go for that,” Ian said. Devian shrugged, looking at his brother defiantly again. “Then don’t tell her,” he suggested, “I mean it. I won’t give it up.” Ian held up his hands. It wasn’t worth fighting with the clone over now. They had more important issues to resolve. “If you’re so much in love with Sara, what game are you playing with Vicki?” he asked. Devian frowned. “I’m not playing any game with Vicki,” he replied, “She asked me to lunch so I went. At lunch, she asked me to dinner so I accepted. I like to eat and it gets lonely eating alone. I haven’t implied anything other than that.” Ian snorted. “Crap,” he said, “You don’t believe that any more than I do. You’re leading her on and we both know it. Why?” Dev shrugged. “Okay,” he agreed, “Maybe I was trying to dig at Sara a little. Maybe I was trying to make her jealous. I don’t know. I’m new to this and most of the time I just go with my gut. I’ll stop. I like Vicki. I have no intention of screwing around with her – in any way.”

“Then you’ll back out of the dinner on Friday?” Ian asked. Devian frowned. “I most certainly will not,” he replied, “That would be rude.” Ian studied his brother. He might try to come off as a harmless rogue, Ian thought, but he was really a determined little shit. He wouldn’t give up on this delusion he had with Sara. And, of course, the Blade had only fostered those illusions of his. Who knew what It was likely to do in the future? Perhaps that was Devian’s hope – get Sara alone again and wait for the Witchblade to ignite the passion between them. If that was his game, Ian would have to take measures to insure that it didn’t happen. He pushed a hand through his hair so roughly that he snapped the leather cord securing it in a neat tail. Shining dark waves tumbled around his worried face. Dev grinned and dug a rubber band from the pocket of his jeans. He tossed it across the table to land in front of his big brother. “You can’t control the Blade, Ian,” he said, “It will have what It wants regardless of any of our desires. You must know that by now. Even the old man came to learn that after a time, although he never could accept it.” Ian sighed. About that, Devian was right. In the end, the Blade would get what It wanted. It always did. As he pulled his hair back again, holding it with the rubber band, Ian wondered what the Witchblade’s intrigues would do to Its Wielder. Would she be able to live with the emotional carnage that It left in Its wake? As if he was reading Ian’s mind, Devian said, “Sara is a strong woman, Ian. The Blade never would have chosen her if she weren’t. She’ll be fine. In the end, she’ll accept and prevail.” Ian wished he could be as sure of that as his brother. He remembered how fragile Sara had seemed as he’d held her in his arms that morning after her night with the clone.

Ian glanced at his watch. “I have to go,” he said. Devian stood, ready to drive his brother back to the jeep that was parked in front of the Precinct. Ian had had enough of the clone for one day. He held up his hand and said, “Never mind. I’ll take a cab.” Dev grinned. “Sick of my company so soon?” he asked. Ian nodded, too tired for courtesy. “A little of you goes a long way, Devian,” he replied. Now, the clone laughed. “What can I say?” he purred, “We Nottinghams are potent.” Ian slipped into his jacket, saying, “Speak for yourself.” Ian started for the door, turning back in the doorway. “I guess I’ll see you Friday night then – unless you come to your senses before then and change your mind. If anything comes up in the meantime regarding the funeral or the will, I’ll call you.” Dev dropped his long body back into a chair. “I won’t change my mind,” he replied, “I’ll see you on Friday. Watch your back.” Ian shot him a penetrating glance. “You too,” he said. With a final wave, Ian left. The clone sat quietly for a few moments longer, thinking about the conversation that he had just had with his brother. Unless he was deluding himself, Devian thought that Ian might be beginning to understand that his brother’s feelings for the Wielder were genuine and would not just go away. He would not give up his pursuit of Sara unless he was absolutely sure that there was no hope that she would ever return his love. At the moment, he still believed that the passion that had flared between them could become something more lasting without the Blade’s intervention.

Dev pushed careless fingers through his hair, stopping just short of pulling it loose as Ian had done. “Of course,” he thought wryly, “I might be deluding myself about that too. Maybe Ian is right. Maybe I’m kidding myself about what I felt from Sara last night. Maybe it was all Blade and no Sara, and I’m just too inexperienced to tell the difference. Maybe I’m letting myself believe that, underneath the passion and the manipulation, she really does care for me because I want it to be true so badly.” He shut his eyes and sighed. He was speculating in a vacuum and it was pointless. He had to know. He had to be alone with Sara again. He had to touch her again and see what happened between them, with or without the Witchblade. Devian opened his eyes, gleaming bright gold with determination. Not tonight, he thought, Ian would be with her tonight; but tomorrow night, he was teaching again at the dojo. Unless she went with him, Sara would be at the loft alone. He would go to her. Otherwise, she would keep avoiding him and they would never be alone together. To his mind, that in itself was a sign of her conflict. Why would she avoid him so strenuously unless she was confused by what she felt for him? Devian preferred to lunge at things head on.

So, he would force the confrontation between them and they would see what happened. Ian, of course, would want to kill him when he found out, but Dev would deal with that later. First, he had to know whether the spark that had flared between he and Sara could be fanned into a hot, steady flame that would burn away her fears of non-conformity and any other foolishness that might come between them. Now that he had decided to take action, his good humor returned and he left the Great Room whistling some romantic ditty he had heard on the radio. The clone did not see Dr. Immo slip from between the bookcases on the balcony that hung above the main room. Unnoticed, the doctor merged back into the shadows until he could safely leave to make his report on what had transpired between the Nottingham twins. Devian, still deep in thought, continued to prowl through the somnolent mansion. Eventually, he returned to the elevator that led to his sanctuary. Alone, he made his way back to the Observatory to spend the evening perusing tapes, immersed once again in the fantasies of celluloid images rather than the realities of flesh and blood.

When the cab had dropped him in front of the Precinct, Ian went by the jail to talk to Mrs. Strauss before driving the jeep back to the loft. He had promised Sara a special night and he intended to make it memorable for her. They had been apart for several days and the Wielder was still upset from her involvement with Devian. They both needed a breather from recent unpleasantness. If the clone was right and some new misery was about to overtake them all, who knew when they would have this chance again. Ian intended to take full advantage of a night with his love. Knowing that Sara had already been tired and heart sick when she had gone in to work that morning, Ian decided that he would plan an evening at home rather than making reservations at a fancy restaurant. He got on the phone again and made calls to a high-end Italian restaurant to cater their dinner, a pricy lingerie store to send over a peignoir set that he would gift her with when she came home, and the florist. He wanted her to have something new and lovely to wear. She had worn the green silk gown and robe last night for Devian. He wasn’t sure either of them could look at it again without remembering that. Ian toyed with the idea of hiring musicians to serenade them but he rejected that plan because he wanted to be alone with her. Recorded music was fine and a lot less intrusive.

Ian glanced at his watch again. The lingerie and flowers would be delivered within the hour. He would lay the peignoir out on their bed, waiting for her. Their dinner would arrive hot and ready to eat at 7:30. Sara usually got home around 7:00 so she could shower and change before they ate. It was 5:30. He had plenty of time to give the place some ambience before he got his own shower and changed into the black silk pajamas that complemented the dark gold silk lingerie he had ordered for her. Ian started to gather candles from all over the loft. By the time the flowers and lingerie arrived, he had the table set for dinner and burning candles on every flat surface surrounding the dining area. He arranged several vases of white roses strategically and set her peignoir out on the bed with one red rose on top of it. Then, he went to get his shower and change. He was opening a bottle of merlot when he heard Sara’s key in the lock a little after 7:00. From the kitchen, he heard the front door open and close. He heard her put her gun in the drawer of the table by the door. It got quiet. Wondering what had happened, Ian stuck his head out of the kitchen doorway. Sara still stood by the small table near the door. She was taking in the candles, the flowers, and the elegant table set for dinner with wide eyes. He smiled and ducked back into the kitchen to pour them each a glass of wine. Ian recorked the bottle and brought Sara her wine. She took the glass from him and touched it against his with a melodic chime. “Wow,” she observed. He smiled and said, “There’s more.” She smiled too and replied, “I’m not surprised.”

After a quick check of his watch, Ian said, “Dinner is in half an hour or so. There’s time to get a shower and change. Take your wine with you if you want.” Sara looked a bit bemused but said, “Okay.” As she headed toward the sleeping loft, she noticed that he had shut the door to the guest bedroom; the room where she had slept – and done other things – with Devian the night before. They always left that door open. She imagined that he had shut it in deference to her. Sara appreciated the gesture. When she navigated the ladder to the master bedroom, she found and also appreciated the beautiful new nightwear. Although she loved the green silk and had sweet memories of wearing it at the Sherry Netherland, the image of Dev slipping it over her head was still way too fresh in her head. After stripping off her work clothes, she went in to take a long, hot shower. The steaming water washed all the tension from her. As she was dressing, she heard the buzzer, followed by Ian talking to someone at the front door. There was a brief flurry and clatter, and then she heard the front door close again. Delicious smells began wafting through the loft as she climbed down the ladder from the sleeping loft, barefoot and looking ethereal in her dark gold silk.

Ian had just finished setting their salads on the table when he turned and saw Sara. His eyes widened and darkened to a soft, smoky amber. “You look incredible,” he whispered, “Breathtaking.” She studied him in his black, silk pajamas, her emerald eyes raking him over from head to toe. “You look pretty incredible yourself,” she purred, “Good enough to eat and I’m starving.” She closed the distance between them and slowly unbuttoned his pajama top. Looking up, her eyes met his and she dragged the nails of one hand from his collarbone to the band of his pajama pants. Her other hand rested on his slender hip. His eyes fluttered shut as he bent to tease her lips with his. Their tongues touched and slid along each other before Sara pulled back. Ian leaned forward, following her mouth as it moved away. His eyes opened, confused. “What?” he asked. She gazed up at him, her hand still resting on his bare chest. “That food smells so good,” she remarked. Ian snorted. “I guess that means that touching goes on the back burner until after we eat,” he replied, “Right?” She smiled. “It’s your own fault,” she said, “It smells too good. What is it?” He leaned down to nuzzle her ear and whisper seductively, “Gnocci gorgonzola, fettucini alfredo, spaghetti bolognese, garlic bread.” Sara gasped. “Oh my,” she breathed, “Music to my ears and a symphony for my stomach. Bring it on.”

They shared a long, leisurely meal. Finally, Sara sat back with her hands resting on her belly. “I’m stuffed,” she groaned, “And, if I know you, you have dessert.” Ian grinned and said, “Cannoli.” She grinned back and replied, “Which will be just as wonderful at breakfast.” He nodded. “A wise choice,” he agreed, “More wine?” She nodded and he refilled her glass. Sara took a healthy sip and he said, “Why don’t you take your wine and go sit by the fire? I’ll put this food away and then I’ll join you.” There was a brief pause before she replied, without much enthusiasm, “I could help you.” He grinned, wondering what she would do if he accepted her offer. “No need,” he responded, “This won’t take long. Go relax. I’ll be right there.” Sara gave in gracefully, saying, “Don’t be long.” She headed to the library cradling her wine. Still hoping for a handout, Hannibal shadowed Ian back and forth between the table and the kitchen as he put food away. The big dog was eventually rewarded with a big chewy, which he carried into the library, settling happily in front of the fireplace. Ian was actually a good bit longer than he had planned to be. After cleaning up, he blew out all the candles so that Hannibal or Clarice wouldn’t accidentally knock one over and burn the place down. Eventually, he grabbed the rest of the bottle of merlot and his glass, and headed into the library; where he found Sara sound asleep in one of the big easy chairs. He covered her with the afghan, then sat in the other chair and just watched her quietly for a while, gently scratching behind Hannibal’s ears while he gnawed his chewy. After an hour, Ian figured that Sara was gone for the night. She had started to snore softly, her mouth slightly open. He thought that she looked enchanting.

After a while, Ian drifted off to sleep too. When he woke up, he was a bit disoriented before it all came back to him. This was the outcome of his special evening for Sara; both of them waking up stiff and sore in the middle of the night – not from wild, monkey love but from falling asleep sitting up. He shook his head, amused. Sometimes they seemed more like an old married couple than new lovers. Ian stood awkwardly, his body stiff, and groaned. Hannibal still stretched out in front of the waning fire, whined in sympathy. Ian leaned over Sara, gently brushed back her hair, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Sara, love,” he whispered, “I’m going to carry you to bed. You’ll get stiff if I let you sleep in this chair. Okay?” The green eyes slitted and she raised her arms. “’kay,” she murmured. He smiled sweetly and picked her up, afghan and all. At the sleeping loft, he lifted her on the platform before climbing the ladder. Ian turned down the bed, then picked her up again to carry her to the bed and ease her under the covers. He pulled the afghan free, tossed it to the chair, and slipped into bed beside her. Sara never woke through the whole journey. Ian pulled her into his arms and was soon sleeping too.