Reggie smiled, looking out over the penguin pool. The birds were huddled in a few groups here and there in the frosty compound beyond the glass, looking like guests at a cocktail party, waiting for the caterer to come around with trays of canapés and drinks. Next to her, Sam lounged against the rail, smirking a little.



“How anybody can wear a tux twenty-four seven is beyond me. Hard enough to keep a tie on in this weather.”



“You look wonderful in a tux, Samuel, even if you do fidget in it,” Portia murmured gently. She was decked out in a pale cream Egyptian cotton pantsuit and a big straw hat. Next to her, Reggie was in a light pink sundress, and had her hair tied back with a matching scarf.



Sam looked over at the two of them and made a face. “I fidget because you insist on the real thing with starched shirts and cufflinks and cummerbunds, Portia. Maybe Cary Grant was used to them, but not me.”



“Cary hated them too, but he knew panache,” Portia commented with a little knowing smile as she looked at Sam in his jeans and green Henley. She glanced at the brochure in her hand. “We have just enough time to see the cheetahs before my lunch with the trustees. Shall we?”



Both Reggie and Sam nodded, shooting each other quick surreptitious glances and smiling as they followed behind the elegant woman.



It was now their fifth date, and once Portia was safely delivered to her luncheon they’d be free to explore the rest of the zoo together without their chaperone. The arrangement was unique, slightly formal and to Sam’s way of thinking a sweet torture made bearable by Reggie’s shy enthusiasm.



So much had happened since Portia’s tumble down the escalator at the hands of Rafe, and out of it all emerged two concrete facts: Reggie did indeed love him back, and Portia was pleased with this revelation.



Sam remembered the first conversation between the three of them shortly after the accident. Portia had summoned them both in and made them sit on either side of her bed as she crocheted, not looking at either of them.



“Samuel Vartann, did I hear you correctly when you bellowed your devotion to my secretary to the second story of the mall yesterday?”



“Yes Ma’am.”



A pause. Then—



“Regina Owens, I believe the ball is in your court—anything to say, my dear?”



“Um . . . I believe the feeling is mutual, Miss Richmond.”



“Formal! Well, if the two of you are so cautiously enthralled with each other, I think we ought to do something about that. Are either of you adverse to some . . . advice?”



“Advice is good,” Reggie spoke up. Sam let her—best to hear what Portia had in mind before commenting.



“Very well then. You know my feelings on the matter, right down to the possibility of babies, but I want to make it clear that in terms of your relationship that your lives are your own. I love you both dearly, and no matter what happens between the two of you that won’t change. “



“Portia—“ Sam tried to speak up but his voice was slightly choked. She shook her head and glanced up, her eyes bright.



“Tush. I just wanted to make it clear that no matter what I want, these are your lives, and I respect that. I’ll give you time and privacy to pursue this mutual development. All I ask is that you be good to each other—ultimately it’s all any of us can truly do in this world, eh?”



It had been terrific advice, and Sam appreciated it more than he could actually say. He and Reggie had gone to dinner, had taken in a few movies and gone to a carnival so far. He’d gotten to hold her hand and argue and laugh with her, talk about more than just Portia and Las Vegas . . . and under all that was that wonderful physical attraction that simmered and flared. Their first kiss, which was supposed to have been light, sweet little thing had quickly morphed into a heated tangle of lips, tongues and hands. Sam was thrilled to realize Reggie truly did desire him in her own shy way.



Life was good.



And, Sam considered, it was about to get much better, if he had anything to say about it. Portia’s lunch would take most of the afternoon, and she’d probably want a nap before dinner, so that meant a good five hours with Reggie close at hand.



Possibly IN hand.



Catching the smirk on his face, Reggie shot him a sidelong look of smoky promise, and Sam cleared his throat, wondering if the Great Ape Enclosure was dark enough for necking in.

Sara smirked. The frustrated expression on Grissom’s face was worth it; he looked both baffled and intrigued, with a fair dose of arousal mixed in as well. They lay on the rumpled coverlet of the bunk, enjoying the quiet peace of the mid-morning, listening to the lapping of the waves on the shore and enjoying the soft rocking of the boat.



Sara pulled the silk robe sash across her bare thigh. “I’ve just got skinny wrists and patience. In the job we do, that’s sort of a plus. Twice I’ve gotten out of being tied up just because the people doing the knots were in a hurry.”



“You’ve been tied up—twice—on cases?” he demanded, a little dangerous glint in his eyes. Sara’s smirk widened into a gentle smile.



“Gil . . . nobody comes into the Shop without . . . a past, right? Much as we all like to feel good about what we’re doing, in reality, all of us are broken badges.” She shrugged. “We’re people who burned out on the frustration and bitterness of being held back by the legal system of this country.”



Grissom nodded, his expression becoming slightly bleak. “True. All of us are . . . clients of Doctor Marazek, or at least started out that way. But getting back to your wrists . . . “ he murmured, taking one of her hands and pulling it to his lips, “ . . . I’m just impressed with your . . . escapology. I’ll think twice before accepting another bet from you—although I’m sure I can come up with something you can’t get out of.”



Sara arched one beautiful eyebrow at him. “Oh really? So what are the stakes?”



This time Grissom smirked, propping himself up on one elbow. He let his admiring gaze moved along the sweet slopes and curves of Sara’s languid body before looking her in the eyes again.



“I want a painting of you—“



She laughed.



“—In chocolate,” he finished. Sara rolled over on her stomach and stared at him, intrigued.



“Chocolate,” she echoed, a hint of polite disbelief in her voice.



Grissom nodded. “In fact, I’m so confident that I can devise something you can’t escape from out of materials right here on the Bohemian that I should probably order the canvas and painting materials right now.”



“Oh you’re on Mr. Peppermint,” Sara growled in a husky tone. “Although I think we better make clear just what the limitations and ah, restrictions are, so to speak. You’re not going to drop a garbage bag over me and call it a victory you know.”



Grissom nodded. “Lay out your rules then, while I get us some coffee and muffins.”

Jelly Bean looked out over the crowded holding cell at the shapely young woman making her way towards him. She had a briefcase and a very annoyed look on her face, so that meant she HAD to be his attorney. He flashed his most winning smile at her, and it would have gone over better if he wasn’t covered in fish scales and shrimp tails.



“Ms . . . . Oh my God it’s you,” he breathed, both delighted and mortified. “How the hell did you get here?”



Miss Lemon Drop looked over the top of her sunglasses at him and gave a sigh. “If you must know I was a guest at the Governor’s Spring Fundraiser for the Pan American Games. Then I get a redirected call from Henry that takes me away from my cozy banquet with the beautiful rich people of Rio de Janeiro so that I can bail you out.”



“It’s not my fault,” Jellybean protested automatically. “Really. I got lost on one of the beachfront streets and asked this girl to show me back to my hotel and somehow my Portuguese isn’t up to snuff so she wanted some money which I declined to give her and then her two uncles showed up and accused me of SERIOUS improprieties with the young lady in question which I would NEVER do but they believed anyhow and loaded me onto a fishing boat with the full intent of anchoring me to the bottom of the bay but I managed to get out and swim to shore where got caught in a fishing net and made this guy lose his whole morning’s catch and he had me arrested. Very simple, really.”



During this entire recital Jelly Bean continued to pick fish bits out of his hair while trying to smile. Lemon Drop rolled her eyes.



“Ever thought of vacationing in the USA? Because given your history of international incidents I think you need to stick to places closer to home.”



“Nah, I’m Jelly Bean, International man of mystery, you know? Bombay, Saipan, Oslo, Liechtenstein—“



Lemon Drop waved under her nose. “—Yes, all the major countries of intrigue. Come on, let’s get your bail paid and stick you in a hot shower with baking soda. Maybe I can still make dinner at the Plaza if we hurry.”



Jelly Bean sighed. “Is this going on my permanent record? Because I’m going to need another rebuttal sheet—“



Lemon Drop patted her briefcase in a resigned way.

The round little woman in the pink polyester pantsuit, her frizzy grey hair held back by a visor looked ready to cry, her chubby chin quivering. Gum Drop sighed a little, and shrugged. “I’m sorry mom, but duty calls. I’m the ONLY one they can trust with evidence this vital, and you know how important the job is.”



“I know Davey, I know, but I was SO looking forward to shuffleboard and Karaoke Night with you! I packed the costumes for Twin Day, and even brought an extra set of fluffy jam-jams for you so you wouldn’t get cold on the water!” she wailed softly.



Gum Drop mentally gnashed his teeth. He drew a breath. “I’m sorry you went to so much trouble, but I did say I might have to cancel if I was needed. Aunt Carole’s going to meet us here, right?”



“Yes. She’s coming. I just hope she’s over that nasty rash of hers, and remembers to bring her Dramamine. Oh Davey, isn’t there any way you can get out of this case?” his mother pleaded, her eyes moist.



Gum Drop drew himself up and sighed dramatically. “I could, Mom—but could we live with the consequences of that choice, really?”



His mother threw her chubby arms around him and hugged him tightly, engulfing him in a wave of White Shoulders and breath mints. After a few seconds, he hugged her back, feeling both guilty and loving. She was a good mom, if a little needy sometimes, but his aunt would definitely be better company, and in any case, the cruise was about to leave anyway. He pulled himself out of her hug as a tall woman with a huge straw hat and goggle sunglasses came up to them, smiling.



“Edith! Davey! Looks like I didn’t miss the boat!” came her brassy tone. “Let’s get up that gangplank and check out the sailor boys, Whoo!”



Gum Drop accepted her hug too, hoping she didn’t crack vertebrae on him, and followed behind the two women, discreetly checking his watch—plenty of time to see the boat here off in LA and make the flight to San Jose for tomorrow. Plenty of time.

Jaw Breaker swallowed hard. He had his bird guide, logbook, his binoculars, his campstool and his water bottle; everything to make bird-watching comfortable much more. But he wasn’t watching birds, no, he was watching Miss Starr Jankowitz apply sunscreen up and down her long, tanned legs, fingers caressing the beautifully highlighted muscles from ankle to upper thigh at the edge of her tiny khaki shorts.



“Nick? You okay?” she asked, glancing at him. He flashed a dazzling grin up at her, teeth white.



“Just . . . admiring the view. You’ve got the kind of legs Rod Stewart used to sing about.”



She waved a lanky hand at him, flattered and embarrassed. “Oh please.



“Nah, they’re gorgeous, really. And I like to think I’m an authority on legs.”



This earned in a slightly peeved glare; Jaw Breaker shook his head a little. “Now Starr, not like that—but Vegas is a town full of showgirls. It’s not like I haven’t seen a few in my day.”



“I bet,” she replied, but more good-naturedly now. “You’re supposed to be looking for goshawks and osprey right now—“



Jaw Breaker’s smile widened, his dimple deep. “I only brought one camp stool—maybe you better come sit in my lap.”



Starr laughed, deep and throaty. “Nick Stokes, if I sit on your lap, we’re going to end up doing bad, bad things to each other and won’t get any birds spotted at all!”



He reached up to grip her thin wrist and tug her down; she giggled and came willingly. Jaw Breaker kissed her ear before whispering in it. “I see two plovers and a red-winged blackbird. Sit right here and I’ll show you--“

Licorice lay back on the bed, smelling the wonderful perfume of café au lait and fresh beignets drifting through the open French windows. The faint sounds of laughter echoed as well, and even with closed eyes, he smiled, breathing in the beautiful scents on the cool morning air.



A warm hand sleepily slid up his bare thigh under the sheet, curving inward along the lean muscles to brush, lightly, against his thickening shaft. Licorice grinned. “Lydia, don’t start what you can’t finish, woman—“



Into his ear came a sweet low giggle. “Come on, Warrick mon cher, you know five is a lucky number.”



He let his grin turn into a full smile and rolled towards her, scooping the rounded bouncy blonde into his arms. “It’s a new day, lovergirl—I think we need to start all over again at one—“



“What . . . about . . . breakfast?” she murmured, kissing her way across one of his broad, bare shoulders. Licorice chuckled softly and rolled with her until she was on top of him, a satiny weight of sleek flesh and long, golden hair.



“Later. Much later--“

Sugar Daddy looked over, across the stretch of crystal-fine sand towards the three women frolicking in the surf. The two girls were tanned and smiling; playing little games of splash tag with each other and drawing interested glances from young men all up and down the beach.



His attention however, was on the statuesque goddess who ambled in the knee-high waves, brushing back the long strands of her mahogany hair. She was pale, and while her mint bathing suit was modest compared to the bikinis that the girls wore, she still made a striking, curvaceous figure against the blue of the water.



She looked better. Still not quite her old, confident self, but on the mend with each passing hour, and Sugar Daddy felt hope rise within him. This vacation, with all of them together was just what they needed—a chance to share without pressure; a moment to value time with each other.



They were, he realized, a family of sorts—lovers, parents; sisters and daughters.



“Hey!” Miss Lollipop called out, waving lightly to him. “Come on in, the water’s lovely!”



Sugar Daddy smiled, set his book down, and climbed to his feet, undoing his shirt.



Vacation.



Oh yeah.