Grissom had something on his mind the whole shift.  I could tell, and it wasn’t just those obscure statements he kept making.  There was something else going on underneath the case…and I had my suspicions as to what. 

 

But that still didn’t prepare me for what he said.  I mean, he’d been looking at me like he used to, back before everything got so strained, but we’d been down that road before with nothing to show for it.  I’ll admit that the flirting looks were fun, but I wasn’t expecting much. 

 

Still, when everybody else picked up and left, it was like I could almost feel him breathing there across the table.  He opened his mouth, and all I expected was some comment about the vic or maybe Greg.  Instead he blew me away. 

 

“Turnabout is fair play, Sara.  What is YOUR fantasy?” 

 

Whoa.  Forget left field, that came from the Moon.  I felt my jaw drop, and for a second I couldn’t answer.  If it had been Greg, I could have given him any one of a dozen snappy comebacks, but this wasn’t Greg, by any means, and his eyes…I couldn’t look away from his eyes. 

 

I don’t know what made me say it.  Maybe it was surprise, maybe I just wanted to shock him the way he’d shocked me.  Maybe it was just time for truth. 

 

“To be seduced…by you.” 

 

The instant the words were out of my mouth I couldn’t believe I had said that.  How could I give him that much power?  After all he’d put me through--

 

But Grissom looked kind of like someone had clocked him upside the head.  His eyes went wide and his lips moved silently, and all of a sudden my confidence came back.  I really had shocked him, and damn, it actually felt good. 

 

I watched as his mouth turned up in one of those little smiles that did strange and very nice things to the pit of my stomach.  It actually looked like he was taking me seriously, and it occurred to me that for the first time we were really on level ground. 

 

“That…can be arranged,” he told me in a low voice, as though it were news to him too.  I couldn’t help laughing a little. 

 

“Grissom?”  I raised my chin.  “Arrange it--please.” 

 

And with that I got up and out of there while I still had the last word.  Any girly squealing would have to wait until I was out of earshot. 

 

***   ***   ***

 

And that was that for a couple of shifts.  Once I calmed down a little I figured he’d thought better of the whole thing, but just having him ask a question like that was a victory I savored. 

 

When he asked me to dinner, I couldn’t help remembering our little conversation, but I had no idea if it was related--after all, we had been getting easier with each other.  Grissom kind of surprised me by taking me to the fast food place near the Tangiers--he didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who liked tofu that much.  But hey, I wasn’t about to complain. 

 

It was warm enough to eat outside, so we copped a table while we waited for our food to come up, and I was peeling the plastic off my spork when he said my name.  I looked up, not sure what to expect.  “Yeah?” 

 

“I’m in the process of making arrangements.” 

 

Ooookay…arrangements?  For what?  Dinner?  Retirement?  Some huge experiment that’s going to take up half the lab?  Give me a clue here, Grissom.  I tried to sound encouraging.  “That’s good I guess.  Arrangements for what?” 

 

He looked stiff, like that wasn’t the answer he was expecting.  “For…the, er, fantasy you mentioned.  Earlier.” 

 

Whoa.  He really was serious?  I cocked my head, trying to keep a huge grin from spreading over my face, but it got harder when I saw his cheeks starting to turn pink.  I didn’t know what exactly he had in mind, but…hmmm, yeah. 

 

“O-kaaaay,” I said, and waited.  C’mon, Bossman, details here. 

 

I’d gotten my plasticware out and lined neatly up, and was considering building a catapult, by the time he got around to saying something.  “In lieu of that, I need to know a few things before I can…set events into motion, as it were.” 

 

Oh man.  He is such a scientist.  Only Gil Grissom would approach a seduction like an experiment.  Our food showed up and I put his in front of him, giving myself a little time to put words in order.  “A few things--like a preliminary screening, Grissom?  A survey of likes and dislikes, preferences?” 

 

“Yes,” he said at once, which annoyed me.  We’d known each other how long now?  “Even Caprice understood the need to tailor the fantasy.” 

 

“Caprice didn’t have the luxury of seven years of familiarity,” I pointed out.  No way was I going to let him get away with that.  “You do, Grissom.” 

 

He cocked one brow the way he does when someone has a point.  “You’re a vegetarian by choice,” he said as I peeled the wrapper from my taco.  “A transplanted Californian with a preference for natural element choker necklaces and sleeveless shirts.” 

 

Not what I’d have picked, maybe, but it was a start.  “True,” I told him, and started eating. 

 

Grissom went on.  “You like your hair short; you drink more coffee than is good for you; you have a hard time with abuse cases, particularly those involving women or children.  You’ve gotten counseling for factors in your personal life; you like working with Greg over Catherine or Nick.  And…you have feelings for me.” 

 

Damn.  It wasn’t so much what he said as the way he said some of it, like he had a right to judge how much coffee I should be drinking, or as though he had any kind of authority over those feelings.  I stared at him for a moment, annoyance mixing with pleasure mixing with an urge to explain why I preferred Greg’s enthusiasm to Catherine’s bossiness or Nick’s sense of competition. 

 

He stared back, looking calm and fascinated and just a little bit apprehensive, and it was that last that made me smirk at him.  I pointed to his dinner.  “Eat, before it gets cold.” 

 

Cold tacos are gross. 

 

The hot ones, though, are really excellent, and I approved of his choice.  We ate quietly, and I thought about what he’d said and all the stuff he hadn’t said.  This was Grissom--he wasn’t taking this lightly. 

 

And that meant that I needed to take it seriously too.  An idea or two popped into my brain. 

 

Finally I sighed, pushing aside my taco wrapper, and broke the silence. 

 

“Feelings.  I guess you could say that.  I’d call it an attraction myself, but feelings are, uh, pretty accurate.”  It was hard to admit to even now, after all these years of trying to keep the words inside. 

 

I looked up at him.  “You don’t seem to be too freaked about it.  That is, you used to.”  Dammit, that didn’t come out right, but before I could overtalk, he stirred. 

 

“I used to, in the past.  But a lot of things have happened between now and then.  Things in my life; things in yours.  I’m not the man I used to be.  And you are so much more than you were before, Sara.” 

 

And that was one of the reasons I had fallen so hard for this man; a simple little compliment like that could make my entire nervous system light up like the Strip.  Not that I was going to let him know that.  I gave him the same look I’d give Greg when he picked up on the totally obvious.  “You noticed.” 

 

He grinned a little, looking slightly abashed.  “I noticed.”  

 

I had to laugh.  I fished out my keys and pulled two of them from the ring; one had a double sitting hidden outside my apartment, and I kept a duplicate of the other on file with Judy.  He caught them easily when I tossed them over the table. 

 

“You’re trained to pick up clues, Grissom.  Here’s where to start.”  And let’s hear it for taco-inspired ideas.  “That’s a key to my apartment, and one to my locker.  I give you permission to look around in both of them this weekend while I’m off to Elko.  I’ve got spares, so don’t worry about locking me out.  I’ll be gone from five tomorrow night until the Monday night shift, so you’ve got twenty-four hours to find clues and draw conclusions.” 

 

He looked down at the keys like they had the forensic clues to Jimmy Hoffa’s grave. 

 

 ***   ***   ***

 

It’s a good thing I’m a fast packer, because setting up my place like a giant game of Clue for my supervisor-slash-would-be lover was not on my original list of things to do.  But who needs sleep, anyway? 

 

I went through my usual pre-trip routine when I got back from our dinner--I laid out what I’d need clothes-wise, took a quick shower, and then packed it--everything from the post-seminar-dinner heels to my travel toiletries kit, which I’d brought home from my locker.  You’d be surprised at how often toothpaste can come in handy at work…just ask Greg. 

 

I got the case zipped and set it by the door, and then looked around, trying to rein in the urge to clean everything in sight.  I wanted to give Grissom a fair look at me, which didn’t mean sterilizing the place first. 

 

Okay, I had sterilized my locker, but I always do that just before the weekend.  It’s a locker room…God only knows what grows in there. 

 

The place was a little cluttered, but not too bad, and after all he’d been here before.  Glancing over at the desk, I scooped up my personal journal and stuffed it in the outside pocket of my suitcase.  I was giving him carte blanche in here, but there were some things he didn’t need to see just yet. 

 

The bookshelves were okay, nothing embarrassing there, and I’d wiped down the kitchen counters.  Plants watered; no suspicions of vegetable abuse. 

 

I ducked back into the bathroom to make sure I’d emptied the trash, no sense in embarrassing the man.  The counter was a mess, but it was always a mess, and I didn’t feel like trying to clean it up when all that would mean was that I wouldn’t be able to find anything on Monday. 

 

I’d remembered to let down the blinds in the bedroom; I didn’t like people knowing I wasn’t home.  For a minute I tried to see it as he might, as though I’d never seen it before.  White blinds, green walls, a theme I’d picked up for the sheets; wooden furniture to give the place a more organic feel, and the bed I’d found in a dusty little antique shop outside of Providence.  I was proud of that bed. 

 

And just for a moment, I couldn’t help imagining Grissom in it with me.  After all, I’d done it many times before.  Sometimes, when I pretended he was there, we just slept; sometimes, we put the springs through a workout. 

 

I put a hand to my cheek, feeling myself blushing a little, and rolled my eyes.  Idiot, I told myself, it’s not like he’s going to be able to tell your thoughts just from looking at your duvet. 

 

There was my plant table; there was Percy the Splendid, who was anything but; there was my closet.  Stepping over, I opened the doors and groaned. 

 

Ten minutes later, it was in better shape.  I’d put stuff back on hangers, straightened out the shoes, and pulled the Harlequin romance out of one box.  Some guilty pleasures were better hidden. 

 

And some…I considered shoving those blasted sandals into a box too, but decided not to.  So what if they were an impulse buy I’d never had a chance to wear?  They was a part of me too. 

 

The movies were a little embarrassing, but not too much.  Every woman needs a collection of sappy love stories she can watch with ice cream when the world gets to be too much. 

 

Closing the doors, I tried not to feel defensive about the movies.  I looked around the room with a CSI’s eye, which landed on the nightstands.  Of course Grissom would look in there. 

 

I stared at it for a moment, then went back out to my suitcase and pulled out one little item.  It was easy to pop one pill from the casing on my way back to my room; I opened the drawer and deliberately dropped the case in on top of what I already knew was there.  Chew on that, Grissom. 

 

Serves you right. 

 

***   ***   ***

 

It wasn’t until I was halfway to Elko that I remembered one final detail, and cringed a little.  But it was far too late to turn around, and I sure wasn’t going to call him up and tell him anything was off limits. 

 

Maybe he wouldn’t look under the bed. 

 

Maybe he would. 

 

Probably he would.  He was a CSI, after all.  I glared at the oncoming traffic, and tried to ignore the little thrill the idea gave me. 

 

And suddenly wished I could see his face when he did.