A Sexy Time Of It

Certain it was a mistake, he moved toward her then and took her hands in his—something he’d been wanting to do ever since she entered the room. Though she stiffened slightly, she stood her ground. Admiration mixed with the desire that he’d felt for Deirdre Mason since the first time he’d met her.

“Since you’ve put up with my curiosity and impertinence, I’ll tell you right now that I don’t want your resignation, nor am I going to override your decision to leave Max in place. In your situation, I would do the same.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Because he wanted to go on holding her hands a bit too much, he released them and stepped back. “Adam is just finishing his report on the alibis of our five suspects. Why don’t you come back in two hours and we’ll look them over together. I could use a second perspective.”

“All right.” With a nod, Deirdre turned and walked out of the office.

Watching her, Lance tried to list in his mind all the reasons why he didn’t believe in having workplace relationships.

MAX SHOT OUT of the taxi the instant it screamed to a stop in front of the Psychic Institute. By his count, Neely and he had nearly lost their lives at least three times during the ride to Brooklyn. The last near-death experience had occurred only moments earlier when the crazed taxi driver had taken a fast left in front of an oncoming bus.

“That man should have his license taken away,” Max said the moment Neely joined him on the sidewalk. “If he has one.”

She smiled at him. “Actually, by New York City standards, he was quite good. I’ve had much scarier rides. I take it cabdrivers in San Diego are a bit more conservative?”

“More careful. They file a flight plan with the traffic control center and that guarantees no other vehicle will intersect with their airspace.”

“Flight plan? Airspace? Don’t you drive on roads?”

Max glared at the taxi as it bulleted into a lane of moving traffic. “No. We left that dangerous and ancient practice behind when we outlawed the use of fossil fuels. I can certainly understand why. We use solar power, which is free and available to everyone.”

When he looked back at Neely, she had her hand over her mouth, smothering a laugh.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

A giggle escaped. “Sorry. But you’re a TGS agent who fearlessly travels through time, and you’re totally rattled by a ride in a New York City taxi.”

Max felt his own lips twitch. “Well, when you put it that way…”

Another giggle escaped. “I’ll never forget the look on your face when he rocketed through the tunnel at sixty-five.”

Now he smiled. It was impossible not to when she was grinning up at him in the sunshine.

She took his hand and linked her fingers with his. “On the bright side, we’re early for the lecture, and the institute has lovely gardens. We even have time to grab a bite to eat from one of the vendors if you’re up for a culinary adventure.”

“It seems to be my day to live dangerously.” He was almost willing to forgive the taxi driver for the rough ride since it had taken the sadness out of Neely’s eyes. She was still bothered that her grandmother had never talked to her about her time travel abilities. Neely had taken the locket with her, tucking it into the pocket of her jacket.

He had yet to tell her that she was supposed to be one of the Ripper’s victims, nor of the precautions he’d taken with Sam to prevent that. He had to tell her. He knew that. But he was reluctant to spoil her current happiness. And maybe he wouldn’t have to. Max was still going with his gut feeling that the Ripper would make some kind of contact with Neely at the lecture today. What he hadn’t shared with her was that if she did sense the Ripper, he was going to attempt to take him back immediately. Although it would break the Prime Directive, he’d do whatever it would take to save Neely’s life. Unfortunately, if that scenario played out, this would be the last time he could spend with her. At least for a while.

As Neely led the way down a path that wound through the formal gardens surrounding the Psychic Institute, Max scanned the crowd. The sun was bright, the breeze mild and the gardens had attracted a mix of people. Some looked to be professionals taking a lunch break. Others—the ones in shorts and sandals—he assumed were tourists. Couples strolled hand in hand; young mothers pushed strollers with various-size children. Carts shaded by colorful umbrellas dotted the path and the savory aroma of food mixed with the heady scent of flowers.

And this was the last place he wanted to be spending what might be his final time with Neely. He wanted to will the Ripper, the Prime Directive and everything else away. He wanted to spend this time making slow, lazy love to Neely and then do it again hard and fast. He pictured the way the grounds would look when they were deserted—manicured gardens, rolling lawn, shady trees. Then he spotted a small pond surrounded by flagstones—the perfect setting for a seduction. He could take her there in the space of a heartbeat. Literally, take her there.

“I’m going to opt for ice cream, but you’ll probably want something more substantial.”

Her words brought him back to the crowded grounds and he glanced at her.

She stopped at a cart, skimmed a sign that offered available items. “See anything you recognize?”

What he recognized were the dark circles under her eyes—circles he’d put there because he hadn’t been willing to waste a minute of the time he’d shared with her during the night. Grabbing her, even mentally, for a round of hot and sweaty sex was not what she needed right now. Instead, Max turned his attention to the menu. “We still have hot dogs and hamburgers.”

“I can recommend the hot dogs. New York is famous for them.”

Five minutes later, he found himself seated on a low stone wall, holding what Neely had described a “loaded” hot dog, while she spooned ice cream out of a dish. Other than mustard and onions, he was familiar with nothing of what the vendor had piled on his roll. Deciding that it couldn’t be worse than the taxi ride, he bit into the food and discovered the explosion of flavors on his tongue was quite good. He took another bite.

“I feel like I’m playing hooky,” Neely said.

“What’s that?”

“It’s an expression that originally meant skipping school to do something fun. Then the meaning expanded to include just escaping from your responsibilities for a day—taking a break.” She glanced at him as she scooped up more ice cream. “Don’t you ever skip work?”

“No.”

“I usually don’t, either.” She licked ice cream off the back of her spoon. “Linc tells me I’m too much of a workaholic.”

“Deirdre says the same of me.”

“You must have some days off. What do you do for fun?”

Max swallowed the last of his hot dog. “I go sailing or fishing. I live on a sailboat I’ve docked on Coronado.”

Neely studied him. “What’s it like…your sailboat?”

“Actually, it dates back to this century. My great-great-grandfather bought it in 2000 from a small boatbuilding company up in Sausalito. The man running it was Greek, and they did beautiful work. I’m still using the same docking space my great-great-grandfather used in Coronado.”

“You inherited it?”

“My sister and I.”

“She lives there with you?”

“No.” He turned to her then. “She and I had a falling-out six months ago. She got involved with a group of people, idealists, who wanted to do something to stop the ethnic-cleansing wars that nearly destroyed the African continent in the early twenty-first century. They traveled illegally with the intention of saving lives, and I arrested her.”

“You arrested her for trying to save lives—because of your Prime Directive?”

“Yes. It wasn’t even my job to go after her. TGS doesn’t like anyone who’s personally involved to work on a case. But I went after her and tried to persuade her to come back with me and turn herself in. I was going to hire her a good attorney. She refused. She claimed the Prime Directive would never be changed if people caved in. She couldn’t forgive me for not seeing things her way. She accused me of being a slave to the rules.”

Neely slipped her fingers into his. “Seems to me that’s what a good TGS agent has to be. You didn’t have a choice.”

“Maybe.” He’d been so certain of that at the time, but since Suzanna’s death he hadn’t been so sure. “But it caused my sister and me to become estranged.”

“You could fix that when you go back. Call her. She might be waiting for you to make the first move.”

“I can’t. She’s dead.”

Neely stared at him for a moment. He felt himself let her into his mind, and pain flashed across her eyes.

“No. Oh, no.” She slipped her arms around him and pressed her head into his shoulder. “The Ripper killed her. I’m so sorry.”

Max could feel her understanding—not just in the way she was holding him. He could feel her in his mind, also. And for the first time since he’d learned of his sister’s death, he felt some of his guilt ease.