Chapter 12: Honeymoon

Author's Note: Okay, so I lied- thanks to Cherylann Rivers for reminding me that there is actually a bit more plot I'd planned to wrap up in this chapter. I've tried to keep the honeymoon activities on the tasteful side, but I'll also put a definite page break before and after things become steamy, so those of you who prefer not to read it can flee.
Again, heartfelt thanks to all my readers, especially those of you who have taken the time to write reviews. Your words always mean a lot to me!

Frank opened his eyes, aware suddenly that he had been dozing.

How long was I out? he thought blearily, glancing skyward. The sun was now almost directly overhead. He must have slept for at least an hour with his head pillowed on the paperback in his hands.

I should get up before I get sunburned, he thought, not budging. Somehow, despite the impromptu nap and the almost oppressive heat, he still felt reluctant to move. Lying on the beach, doing absolutely nothing, was not typically his idea of a good time; but right now it felt good, damn good, simply to lie there, soaking up the warmth. So he stayed where he was: face-down on a beach towel printed with a surfing cow, ostensibly re-reading his worn copy of The Maltese Falcon but really just lying there and letting the sun's heat, the sand, and the sound of the waves fill him with a lazy sense of well-being.

Beside him, Callie shifted in her beach chair. "Are you awake down there?"

"I'm awake." He rolled over and sat up, letting his gaze linger on the tanned slender curves of her body and the slightly ridiculous convexity where his baby lived. Before about nine months ago he had never given much thought to the appeal of the pregnant female form; but now, he could not get enough of Callie like this: happy, healthy, beautiful, and rounded with his child, a fact which made him feel warm in a way that had nothing to do with the sunny summer day.

"I dozed off for a few minutes, too," Callie admitted, setting her book aside. It did not escape Frank's notice that she had been holding it with the cover angled away from him, or that she deliberately set it cover-side-down. He reached out and lifted it with one finger, just enough to check out the title, and grinned.

"Don't start," Callie said, grabbing the paperback and shoving it into her beach bag. "I'm entitled to read a bodice-ripper now and then. A girl is under no obligation to be intellectual on vacation."

"Fine by me. Getting any good ideas?" Frank couldn't resist teasing her.

"That depends on how much role-playing you're up for. It's set in Victorian London."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "I'll be the virtuous and timid footman, and you can be the lecherous daughter of the Duchess."

"Frank!" Callie protested, giggling. "That's not quite what I had in mind."

Again, Frank felt a gentle wash of warmth with no external origin. He smiled back at her. "I think we've been doing all right on our own. We don't need any new ideas."

"Actually..." Callie said, twirling the end of her ponytail nervously, "I have a confession."

"Let me guess. Are you actually the daughter of a Duchess?" Frank said. "No, wait, let me try again. Are you a spy? Or a- "

"I'm trying to be serious here," Callie interrupted, releasing her ponytail. She looked slightly more at ease now. "Don't judge me."

"I promise."

"Okay. I brought that pocket edition of the Kama Sutra Joe gave you after our courthouse wedding."

"Oh?" Now it was Frank's turn to feel ill at ease. While he was certainly far from being a prude, he had always found the idea of planning sexual encounters as though perusing and choosing from a menu a little off-putting. "Why?"

"I thought it might be fun to take a look at it. Don't get me wrong, I love what we do," Callie said, reaching out to take his hand, "but with Miles getting in the way more and more, it can't hurt to explore a little, right? Maybe we'll find a few new things to try. Better now than after we let things get really limited and boring."

"Oh," Frank said again. "I should have thought of that."

Callie shrugged. "I didn't think of it, either. Bess was helping me pack, and she spotted it on our bookshelf. She recommended a few positions to try but she said the best thing is to just keep experimenting."

"That is much better advice than what I got from Biff," Frank said wryly.

"I don't even want to know, do I?" She was still looking at him, scanning his face. "Come sit under the umbrella with me awhile. I don't want you to get burned."

Obligingly, Frank got up and tugged his towel under the shade of the umbrella. "Do you have any water left?"

"I think so." Callie dug in her bag and handed him a black-and-white spotted travel mug. "You'd better drink the rest of that. You took an extra long run this morning and you've been lying in the sun for awhile."

"I've been keeping hydrated," Frank assured her, but he took a long swig as advised. He had indeed indulged in a longer-than-usual run that morning. It had felt good, a welcome contrast to all the relaxation.

Callie leaned back, sighing happily. "Can you believe we're really here?"

"We've been here for two days, so...yes?" He waited a beat, just long enough for her to turn and make a frustrated face at him, before he added "I know what you meant. And yes, it is a little surreal that we're actually on our honeymoon."

"That, and everything's been so perfect," Callie said. "It almost feels too perfect. I have to be dreaming this place."

Frank started to say something, but stopped himself. There was no need to point out the imperfections, as he had been about to do- the drama with her parents, their own quarrel, the very fact that they were here on Block Island, Rhode Island, instead of somewhere in the Caribbean as originally planned. None of those things were relevant right now.

Let it all go. Happiness is more important than accuracy, today, he admonished himself, adding aloud "If you're dreaming, don't wake up just yet. I'm really enjoying this one."

"Me, too." Callie reached for her travel cup and sipped some water. "I think the reception was worth the headache of planning it. I can't remember the last time I had so much fun. My face actually hurt from smiling so much."

Frank nodded. "Mine, too."

"Did you notice Nova and Jerry flirting with each other all night?"

Frank shook his head. "No."

Callie turned toward him, propping herself on an elbow, eyes bright. "And can you believe George actually left with Burt!"

"George left with Burt?"

"Um, yes. Where were you? This is the gossip item of the week," Callie teased.

Frank reflected on the way Ned had been looking at Nancy, considered divulging that to see where it rated on the gossip meter, and discarded the impulse. Ned was still his friend, after all, and Joe did not need his big brother fighting imaginary battles on his behalf.

"I didn't notice what most people were up to. I only had eyes for you last night," he said instead, gallantly.

Callie rolled her eyes at him but leaned in for a quick kiss. "Don't be saccharine, darling."

"It's the truth," Frank protested, feigning indignation.

"You're cute when you pout."

"You're cute...always."

Callie giggled. "I think they only broke up in the first place because they were both enlisting in separate branches," she said, returning to the subject.

"Who?"

"George and Burt!"

"Oh. Right," Frank said vaguely. His attention had drifted away toward simpler things: the way she adjusted the strap of her top, the sparkle in her eyes, the graceful curves of her sand-speckled ankles. Desire, which had lain dormant all morning, woke up and bloomed somewhere deep in his chest, looping bright tendrils lazily into his bloodstream. Suddenly, getting Callie back up to the room seemed more important than sunbathing or gossiping.

"Do you want to go back to the room and cool off a little?" he suggested. "I don't want you to feel overheated."

"How suspiciously altruistic of you," Callie said, smirking. "But isn't it about time for lunch?"

"It is, but we could use a shower and a change of clothes first," Frank pointed out. "I thought we could pick up smoothies from the cafe on our way back. That'll hold us over until we get a real lunch."

"I won't say no to that," Callie said. "The one I had yesterday was delicious."

Frank folded the chair and the umbrella and shook sand from their towels, watching Callie from the corner of his eye as she stood and pulled her cover-up over her bikini.

"You're staring," Callie scolded gently. "Didn't your mother teach you that's rude?"

"I'm just enjoying the view."

"My round self in a bikini is hardly the best part of the view!"

Frank swallowed hard. "Yes, it is." He could not begin to explain. Not here, on a public beach. He needed to get her upstairs.

"I probably shouldn't even be wearing this. But I'd already bought it for our honeymoon before I found out about this," she said, giving her middle a caress, "and I'm damn well going to wear it."

"You look incredible in it," Frank said.

Callie winked. "You don't look so bad, yourself," she said, reaching for his hand. Frank balanced the chair and umbrella in his other hand and gladly twined his fingers through hers, squeezing briefly as they began their walk back toward the hotel. He was still watching Callie, half-lost in the sway of her hips and the bounce of her ponytail, anticipating the privacy of their room. The knots at the back of her halter top had been driving him crazy all morning.

Two little tugs, he thought. That's all it will take. Then I'll trace every tan line she has with my fingers, and again with my mouth, and then-

"Why don't you just head upstairs, and I'll get the drinks?" Callie asked, interrupting his fantasy. Frank's confusion must have showed on his face, because she gestured at his armful of beach accoutrements.

"You're carrying everything else. I can get the drinks. Besides, I want to look into the hotel gift shop for a minute. I promised your mom I'd bring her a souvenir fridge magnet for her collection."

Frank's head had cleared. He nodded reluctantly. "Okay. I'll see you upstairs, then."

"I won't be long." Callie reached up to kiss him lightly before they parted ways.

"You'd better not be," Frank growled, catching her before she could step away and leaning in for a second kiss- quick, but full of promises.

"I'll be waiting," he told her, and headed for the elevator.

Upstairs, Frank stacked the chair and umbrella neatly on their tiny balcony and hung his sandy towel over the railing, the colorful fabric joining the scores of others in every color and pattern which fluttered from neighboring hotel room balconies and gave the whole scene a festival air. He paused, taking a moment to enjoy the view of the ocean and to appease his never-dormant detective's instincts with a quick survey of the beach below. Then, satisfied with the peace both of the activity below and of the scenery itself, he stepped back into the bedroom and looked it over with a critical eye. Their luggage was just as he had left it. Housekeeping had emptied the trash and left a stack of fresh towels in the bathroom. For a moment, he considered stripping off his already-dry swim trunks and getting a quick shower while he waited for Callie.

Better wait, he decided, the image of those tantalizing knots in her bikini top crossing his mind once more. With any luck we'll both be sweaty again in a few minutes. Instead he ran himself a glass of water from the bathroom tap, drank it, and settled on the bed to wait.

"You're going to have to move, Josephine," he said aloud, pushing a large, black-and-white-spotted plush cow toward the foot of the bed.

Oh, hell. I'm talking to a stuffed cow now. I'm adding that to my list of grievances, he thought, chuckling despite his attempt at dignified irritability. Truthfully, he was more amused than annoyed by the prank Joe and Nancy had pulled on them; and above all, he was gratified to have finally discovered the point of the conspiracy which had been plaguing him for the past several days. Joe's arrangements had become obvious as soon as Frank and Callie had set foot in this hotel room. Frank laughed again, remembering.

"There's been a mistake. This isn't the room we booked," Frank told the bellboy, turning to go. One glimpse of the room had told him that. He and Callie had reserved a much more modest room.

"Frank," Callie said from a few steps further into the room. Her voice was pitched oddly, as though she were on the verge of either tears or laughter. Frank frowned; but before he could go to her the bellboy spoke up.

"No, sir, there's no mistake. This is your room," he said politely. And then he actually grinned at Frank, dropping his professional demeanor, before adding, "And I have instructions to tell you to enjoy your honeymoooooon."

"No," Frank said, his heart sinking. "No. They didn't." He thrust a folded bill into the hand of the now openly-laughing bellboy, closed the door, and turned to face whatever was in store for them.

The room was beautiful.

The room was also infested with cows. Everywhere Frank looked, he was met with yet another set of limpid bovine eyes. A large plush cow sat brazenly on their pillows. Two cow-printed beach towels lay folded at the foot of the bed. Two pairs of cow slippers were arranged beside the wardrobe. A matched set of Holstein-spotted travel mugs sat cheekily on the dresser. Even the generic hotel art hanging above the bed had been replaced with a watercolor of cows in a pasture.

"Look," Callie said, turning around. She was beaming, laughing, and holding something out toward him. "They even made us a vase. They must have gone to one of those paint-your-own-pottery places. It's really not bad. Which one was the artist, do you think?"

"Nancy," Frank said, assessing the image automatically. His mind was whirling. This explained everything: the calls made from Joe's phone, the cow he had seen on the laptop that day at his parents' house, and even the online purchase which had been his first clue. Joe and Nancy must have ordered most of these items online and had them delivered to the hotel, where they had made arrangements for them to be placed in the room. Joe had probably impersonated Frank on the phone with hotel management.

Callie was still giggling. "What were we just saying on our drive up here? At least we're guaranteed not to find any livestock in our room this time?"

"We're just lucky they didn't order a life-size cow sculpture," Frank said, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. Then he laughed. It really was funny.

"Oh," Callie gasped through her own laughter. "Baby on the bladder!"

She darted into the bathroom. Frank sat down on the bed, shaking his head in disbelief. The stuffed cow tipped over into his lap and he pushed it off, breaking into a new bout of laughter.

"Frank," Callie said, emerging from the bathroom, "you'll never guess what's in the bathtub."

"Tell me it's not a live cow."

"No!" That thought sent Callie off again. She sat beside him on the bed, leaning against his side and giggling helplessly, and had to catch her breath and wipe her eyes before she could explain. "It's just a really cute faucet cover."

"Shaped like a cow, I assume?" Frank said dryly.

Callie nodded. She was reaching across him to pick up the stuffed cow. "We have to call her Josephine," she said, examining the toy. "Oh! And we totally have to have Miles's newborn photos taken with her!"

"Do you really want to give Joe the satisfaction?" Frank said, keeping his tone light. He wrapped an arm around her and turned to rest his forehead against hers, looking down at the cow she was still holding in her lap. After a moment, Callie raised her face and brushed her lips against his.

"I've wanted to do this for hours," she whispered, kissing him again. Her mouth on his was sweet and hot and urgent. Frank heard himself moan softly as he gathered her closer, tangling one hand in her silky hair.

A dizzying interval later, Callie pulled back, reaching between them to extract the forgotten Josephine and toss her over to the unoccupied half of the bed.

"What did you mean about there being a mistake?" she asked.

Frank gazed into her eyes, reluctant to return his mind to practical things. They were lying side-by-side; his arms were around Callie, and she was combing her fingers lightly through his dark hair. Though Frank had never liked the idea of being petted, he always found Callie's touch soothing or stimulating. Right now it was a little of both. He reciprocated by pushing the strap of her sundress off her shoulder and caressing the bare skin there as he answered.

"I meant that this isn't the room we booked."

Callie sat up. "We need to go tell somebody! I don't want to spend the extra money on- "

"Cal," Frank interrupted.

She stopped talking, and thought for a moment. Then understanding blossomed on her face. "Joe and Nan," she said, lowering herself back down at Frank's side. "They didn't!"

Frank nodded. "I think they did."

Several hours later, when they finally made it out of bed, he discovered confirmation of Joe and Nancy's generosity in the form of an envelope tucked beneath the two Holstein-spotted mugs. Inside was a note which explained that the couple, who were aware that Frank and Callie had planned a simple honeymoon in the interest of saving money for the baby, had arranged for their room to be upgraded.

"They didn't just pay for the difference in room costs," Frank said shakily, scrutinizing the paperwork he had been handed when he checked in. "They paid for all of it. The whole week."

Callie looked stunned. "Those beautiful idiots," she said softly. "It's too much!"

"Don't cry," Frank said, abandoning papers and envelope alike to pull Callie back into his arms.

"I'm not crying," Callie mumbled into his chest, sniffing. Frank laughed and leaned over to snag a tissue from the box on the bedside table.

"Here."

"Thanks." She sniffed again and dabbed at her eyes. "Your family still amazes me."

"Our family," Frank corrected her. "And they amaze me, too."

Frank smiled down at the stuffed cow, more tenderly this time. Even now that the initial surprise had worn off, he was still overwhelmed with gratitude for the gifts he and Callie had been given.

Several minutes passed. He was just beginning to wonder whether he should go in search of Callie when her key card clicked in the lock and she was there, tossing her sunglasses toward the dresser, dropping her bag on the floor, kicking off her sandals, and sinking onto the bed beside him with a happy sigh.

"Mango-peach or banana-strawberry?" she asked, proffering two condensation-beaded cups.

"You and your passenger get first pick," Frank said, having learned that lesson several months prior.

"The passenger has not expressed any particular desire for either one," Callie assured him, handing over the mango-peach. "But maybe the potassium in the banana will keep me from getting another leg cramp tonight."

Frank winced sympathetically. "I hope so."

The bed was comfortable, the room cool after the heat of the sun. The chill of his drink almost brought up goosebumps on Frank's arms. They sat side-by-side against the pillows, as they had on their wedding night. Callie closed her eyes, leaned back, and rested a hand on her belly. Frank's gaze followed her hand and lingered there, watching her body visibly shift and ripple as his son squirmed beneath her skin.

"That's so cool," he blurted out.

"It's the sugar in the fruit. It always gets him wiggling."

Frank reached over and rested a hand beside hers, feeling the baby's strong movements. "Does it hurt you when he does that?"

"Not usually. I can tell he's getting crowded in there, though."

"Not too much longer." He traced his hand along her abdomen, following the baby's movements. "What do you think his first words are going to be?" he mused.

"I haven't thought about it. I'm more worried about all the other firsts," Callie said softly. "There are so many things to get through before we get anywhere close to the point of him talking."

The fear in her voice pierced him with guilt. Frank forgot, sometimes, that Callie had struggled to come to terms with the surprise pregnancy. Whereas he had been immediately overjoyed, Callie had needed a few months to bond with the child she carried, to let her own joy take root; and even now she was more easily overwhelmed by the magnitude of the transformation all three of them were undergoing together.

"We'll get through it," he promised. "It's going to be okay, Cal."

"I know," she said, trying to sound natural. She took another sip of her fruit drink and smiled at him. It was almost convincing.

"Talk to me," Frank said.

Callie shook her head. "I'm just nervous. But I think it's a good nervous. He's...he's changing everything, but I already can't imagine life without him."

"I feel the same way," Frank told her.

They were quiet for a moment. Nothing more really needed to be said. And then the solemnity passed with a sudden glad exclamation from Callie, who swung her legs out of bed and hurried to retrieve her phone from her bag.

"I almost forgot," she said, returning to the bed. "Tansy sent me a link to a sneak preview of our wedding photos while I was waiting for our drinks."

Frank sat up and looked over her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her, as she pulled up their photographer's website on her phone.

"I can't wait to see these," Callie said, scrolling rapidly past the page's header.

"We just lived them three days ago," Frank said, laughing.

"Stop being sensible," Callie reprimanded, but she was laughing too. "Look at that one! And that one! These came out so good!"

"Look at my face in that one. I look like I'm going to sneeze."

"Frank Hardy, is that vanity I hear?"

"I don't want to look stupid in our wedding pictures!"

"You don't want to look stupid, ever," Callie said fondly, turning her face to kiss his cheek.

"That's a good one," Frank said, directing her attention back to her phone. He leaned in closer, too, inspecting the photo.

"I love candid dancing pictures," Callie said, zooming in a bit on the crowd.

"There's most of the guys from work," Frank said.

"And George and Burt in the other corner. Aww, and look at Joe dancing with Myra! They look so happy."

"Not as happy as we look," Frank said reaching around to zoom in closer on his own and Callie's faces. The photographer had captured Frank leaning in to whisper in Callie's ear, and Callie's upturned face glowing with a radiant mix of joy and mischief.

"Do you remember what you were saying?" Callie asked, scrolling down. Frank shook his head.

"Nope. Hang on, scroll back to that last one."

"It's not interesting. It's just me."

"Are you kidding? You're gorgeous. I definitely need a print of this one." Not that I'm ever going to forget the way she looked.

His tone had gone serious again, but he did not see that intensity mirrored in Callie's face when she set the phone aside and turned toward him. The look in her eyes, though heated, was playful.

"Why do you need a print, when you have the original?" She planted her knees on either side of his thighs, twined her arms around his neck, and looked up at him from beneath half-lowered eyelashes, clearly asking for a kiss.

"That is true," Frank said, obliging with a light, chaste kiss. "There are certain advantages to the original." Another soft kiss. He made no effort to hide the answering mischief in his own eyes.

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"Certain advantages you don't seem to be partaking in!" Callie said.

Another kiss, sweet and brief. When he pulled back Callie made a grumbling sound of discontent, and Frank laughed. "I'm just savoring the experience."

Callie leaned back and yanked her cover-up over her head, tossing it to the floor. She reached to untie her bikini top, and Frank lost his composure.

"No, you don't!" he said, covering her hand with his own. "I've been fantasizing about those damn knots all day. I'm going to untie them."

"That's more like it," Callie said.

"I know you think you won, but I really don't feel like a loser right now," Frank said, stroking his hands down her spine to undo the lower knot first. The two tugs he had imagined did not quite do the job; but Frank was good with knots. In a matter of seconds he had the top loosened. It slithered away, forgotten. Frank replaced the material with his hands, cupping her full breasts, stroking the soft skin gently.

"Is this okay?" he asked, mindful of how sensitive the pregnancy had made her body.

Callie's head was tipped back again. She hummed a soft noise of pleasure. "More than okay," she murmured.

Her tan lines were beckoning to him. Frank leaned in and followed the line left by her bikini strap over her right shoulder with a line of kisses, ending at the top of her breast. Warm salt air flowed in through the open balcony door; the whole world seemed to be moving in sensual slow motion.

Callie shifted in his lap, then, and the slow sweet friction of her movement stole Frank's breath. He pressed his face into the curve of her neck. Her skin smelled like sugar from the body scrub she had used that morning. Impulsively, Frank parted his lips and bit down lightly, tracing his tongue along her pulse point.

"Frank!" she gasped.

"You smell good enough to eat," he explained, nuzzling along her collarbone.

She smiled down at him, eyes half-closed with pleasure and happiness like a contented cat. "I won't complain," she said suggestively. Then, reluctantly, she added "No, that's not true. I will complain. I hate not being able to see you down there."

"It'll still feel good."

Callie shook her head. "It's not the same."

"Okay." He stood up, anyway, lifting Callie from his lap and setting her gently on the bed. "But I'll take these."

"Yours, too," Callie ordered, propping herself up on her elbows to watch him tug her bikini bottoms down her legs.

"Want me to turn on some music first?" Frank teased, straightening up and running his hands down his own torso. He hooked his thumbs in his waistband, just enough to offer a glimpse of previously-covered skin, and rolled his hips toward the bed, fully expecting the gesture to be met with giggles. To his surprise, Callie looked appreciative rather than amused.

"I've never had a lap dance before," she said, raking her gaze up and down his body.

Frank laughed. "Let me work on my choreography first. How does Valentine's Day sound?" He stripped off his trunks as he spoke, keeping his movements simple this time, and joined her on the bed.

"I'm going to hold you to that," Callie murmured, pulling him closer. "Abs like this deserve a little time in the spotlight."

"So I have until Valentine's Day to either learn to give a lap dance, or get fat," Frank joked, making a mental note to ask Joe for some pointers.

"If you can handle me looking like this, I can handle a little pudge," Callie said affectionately.

"Hey. You're beautiful," Frank said, cupping her face so he could look into her eyes. "Don't give me that face. I mean it. You're so damn beautiful, Cal." And then, because layering the words behind the veil of another language made him feel safer, he added "Я хочу тебя. Я хочу тебя всего расцеловать."

Callie interrupted the flow of Russian by pressing her lips against his, gently for a moment before leaving him astonished with an unexpected nip at his bottom lip. "I have no idea what you just said, but it sounded dirty."

"It was getting there."

"Are you planning to translate?"

They were lying side-by-side. Frank ran a hand down her thigh and hooked her knee up over his hip, pulling her body closer to his own. "I am translating."

"One of these days I'll teach you how to talk dirty in English," Callie teased.

"Why not start now?" he asked.

Callie put a hand flat against the center of his chest and pushed, gently but firmly, until he lay flat on his back. She straddled him again, reaching down to interlace her fingers with his. The position was intimate, vulnerable.

"Tell me what you want," she said silkily, rocking against him as she had done earlier.

"Fuck," Frank swore. Every nerve in his body had been set alight.

"In complete sentences, Casanova," Callie said, smirking down at him.

"I didn't mean it like that," Frank said; but he could not help laughing, because in essence that was exactly what he was asking of her.

"I think I'm better at demonstrating than explaining," he said, sitting up to kiss her.

"Okay, Hardy. Show me what you've got," she whispered.

And he did.

Later, as they lay spent and sticky and sated atop the rumpled sheets, Callie laughed softly.

"Being so close to the ocean brings back a good memory," she said.

Frank smoothed a stray lock of her hair out of his face and returned his hand to the breast he was still cupping in an appreciative, undemanding way. "A bed is much more comfortable than a speedboat," he said.

"I don't know," Callie said, turning to shine that sweet, pure smile on him. "I thought it was perfect."

She was talking about their first time. Frank remembered it vividly: the fireworks lighting up the bay with flashes of colored light, the Sleuth rocking gently on the waves. Callie had been wearing a white-and-navy-printed halter-top sundress and he'd had his hand on her bare thigh all evening, heart pounding, shaky with daring and desire.

"I was scared out of my mind," he confessed now, listening to the waves crashing on a different shore. "I thought I was going to scare you or hurt you. And I was positive Joe and my dad would know what we'd been doing."

"They probably did," Callie pointed out, unconcerned. "Didn't you know it when Joe lost his virginity?"

"Yeah, but that's because he jumped into my bed at 3 AM and woke me up to brag about it."

Callie laughed. "I should've guessed," she said, stretching lazily. "We really need to get up and shower or we'll never get lunch."

"I'm happy staying here," Frank teased, combing his fingers through her hair. He was joking, but when Callie rolled over and kissed him he felt genuine arousal stirring in his body again.

"Oh," Callie breathed. "Again?"

"Again," he growled.

She parted her thighs for him immediately, matching his desire with her own; and Frank sank between them with mingled gratitude and adoration.

Please, don't let me ever take this woman for granted, he thought, leaning in almost reverently to kiss her. Today, tomorrow, for the rest of our lives, I'm going to make sure she knows she is my greatest gift. I swear it.

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It was Callie who broke the long silence between them, afterward. She spoke without raising her head from his chest. She was curled on her side, resting her head on his chest, and he was playing with her hair.

"Frank?" she said.

"Hmm?" he answered drowsily.

"Why do you make such a point of staying fluent in Russian? Are you planning to get involved with...with him, again?"

She meant the Gray Man. Callie had never been comfortable with the brothers' affiliation with The Network. Frank quickly shook his head to reassure her. "No. Definitely not."

"Then why? What's the point? Are you still hoping to go back to work with Joe someday? Are you planning to change careers? Is it really that useful as a police officer?" She still looked anxious.

Frank sighed and sat up. "It's an old habit," he offered. "A reflex, like watching the news or studying people. We all do it. Joe keeps up his French and Arabic. Nan knows two or three Spanish dialects."

" 'We all do it,' " Callie echoed. "Do you hear yourself? You still think of yourself as a private detective."

"Deep down, yes. But I promise I'm not going to make any big decisions without talking to you about it."

"That means you're thinking about it."

"Yes." He thought for a moment. "I miss it," he said quietly. "I love police work, but working with Joe is just...it's easy. Intuitive. And I miss the variety, I guess. But I'm not planning any major career upheaval right now, honestly. It's not the time."

She looked less suspicious, now. "Okay," she said slowly. "I trust you. But we're going to talk about this some more after our vacation."

"It's a deal," Frank agreed. "Now, how about that lunch?"

"Yes, please," Callie said, brightening. "Dibs on the shower!"

"We could share," Frank said, following her out of bed.

"I'm already bringing an extra person with me. I need all the space I can get."

"That's a fair point," Frank conceded.

He made the bed while Callie showered, and showered while she blow-dried her hair. Over the noise of the hair dryer and the falling water he could just barely make out the sound of her humming. It took him a few moments to place the melody; but when he did, he laughed out loud.

"AC/DC?" he called.

"It's been stuck in my head since that night!" Callie called back merrily.

Frank shut off the water and reached for his towel. "Where do you want to eat?"

"Let's try a new place. What was that one we saw yesterday?"

"The one near the art gallery, the meditation garden, or the Maritime Museum?"

"Near the Maritime Museum," Callie said.

"I can't think of the name, but I know what you mean." He paused, transfixed suddenly by their reflection in the bathroom mirror, by the easy domesticity of the picture it showed him: himself stepping damp and nude from the shower, his wife setting aside the hair dryer and reaching for her makeup bag, his baby nestled in her womb.

Callie looked up and met his eyes in the mirror. "What are you thinking?" she asked softly.

I'm thinking about everything, Frank thought, swallowing hard. Callie's eyes were still on his, filled with patience and understanding. Frank had never considered himself an articulate man; but now, as always, Callie's presence gave him courage. He stepped forward and put his arms around her, turning her to look into her real eyes rather than her reflected ones.

"I'm thinking about home," he said simply. "I'm thinking about Miles. I'm thinking about Joe, and hoping he won't let fear keep him from finding with Nancy what we've found with each other."

Callie was still gazing at him, neither pressuring him nor interrupting him. With a surge of love and appreciation, Frank kissed her before continuing.

"I'm thinking that I hope Miles has your courage and your passion, your strength, your creativity. I hope we can take what we've learned from our own parents, the good stuff and the bad stuff, and give him the best of ourselves. Don't cry, Cal."

"I'm just happy," she said.

Frank brushed away a tear with his thumb. "So am I," he told her. "I love you. I love our life together."

Her eyes filled with tears again. She said his name, nothing more- but somehow, a whole universe of meaning was in that one syllable. Her arms went around his neck and her lips crashed against his in a kiss that lit up his entire being like sunshine after a storm, like water after thirst.

As long as we both shall live. The words surfaced, unbidden, in Frank's mind, comfortable as his oldest jeans and thrilling as the start of a mystery. As long as we both shall live, and for all eternity, he vowed.

Frank smiled against Callie's lips. The future belonged to them, together. It had never looked brighter.