The cocadas were a hit, especially with chocolate drizzled on them. Erin immediately wanted the recipe and Frank noticed that both Nikki and Jamie had seconds, which was not too surprising.

He felt a tiny knot of tension deep in his stomach, a tension that had nothing to do with the meal they'd just finished. Down the length of the table, Briar Rose was clearing the plates, and he watched her shake off offers of help, still capable despite the sling.

Capable. That was the word. Briar Rose was temporarily incapacitated but still able to function. Frank wondered if that applied to himself. Physically he was fine, but lingering in his thoughts was a tiny thread of fear now. A hairline crack, he supposed, a reminder that everyone was mortal, including his dearly beloved.

That ingrained need to keep the people he loved safe was hard to fight, he knew. An impossible task made all the harder by everyone's given profession. Added to that the fear of doing more harm only fed his guilt, and he gave a mental sigh, trying to keep anxiety at bay.

Still, after everyone had left and his father had bid them goodnight, shuffling off to his room, Frank took his time locking up the house—making his final round of the night, he supposed. George went with him, and once Frank headed up the stairs the Borzoi headed back to the kitchen to settle in with his adoptees.

Upstairs, he heard humming from the bathroom. The door was open and cautiously he peeked in to see Briar Rose running a bath, the water foaming and steaming as she sat on the edge of the tub. She smiled at him.

"Hey. Want to be my lifeguard?"

"I insist," he managed a smile.

After putting the lid down, Frank settled himself on the only seat available and rested his elbows on his thighs as he leaned forward to watch Briar Rose slip out of her clothes, neatly dropping them into the hamper before coyly turning to look at him over her good shoulder. "You've seen it all before," she snickered.

"And repeated viewings merely increase my appreciation," Frank replied.

Briar Rose giggled at that, and began to wind her hair up into a messy bun. "Thank you. It's got mileage but the lines are still good—I may let you check under the hood later."

"Are you sure?" he murmured.

She glanced over her wounded shoulder at him, and in that moment Frank knew Briar Rose caught a glimpse of his fears; it was there in the soft worry in her gaze. Turning, she stepped over to him, standing un-self-consciously next to him, hand reaching for his chin, lifting it.

"Yes," she murmured. "Yes. I am here and alive and not going anywhere, Francis Xavier. You and I, we're survivors. We take a hit and come back, knowing that life isn't fair, knowing the price for what we have and paying it anyway, sweetheart. Someday I will die, but not today. You either. That's worth celebrating."

Frank reached up to slip an arm around her hip, fingers skating over the warm skin, palm gliding across the rounded globes of her ass before settling around her. "You're right," he sighed, "but it's been difficult to come to terms with it. You are precious to me."

"As you are to me," she assured him, stroking his hair. "And I intend to enjoy every minute I have with you, even if it's just us cuddling platonically under the covers."

Frank glanced up at her, noting she was trying to look noble. "You're standing here, completely naked and you honestly think we're going to cuddle, platonically?"

"Well no, I hope not," Briar Rose admitted with a saucy smile, "but sex isn't the only reason I married you. It's a big plus, but our love is more than just sheiking it up you know."

"Sheiking it up?" He snorted. "Another of Granny's terms?"

"You sheik; I vamp," she told him, shifting to step into the tub. "The Twenties had a lot of terms for sex."

"Sounds to me like your granny had a lot of sex," Frank pointed out, shifting to sit on the edge of the tub.

"Oh I'm sure of it," Briar Rose agreed. "Boop boopy doo."

He washed her back, being careful around the still-healing scar as they talked of lighter things, and when Frank helped her out of the tub he felt better.

She tipped her head as she tucked the towel around herself. "You could have joined me in there you know."

"I don't think both of us would have fit."

"Apparently your parents did."

"What?" Frank stopped halfway out the bathroom as Briar Rose glided ahead of him, shaking out her hair.

"Bath night," she giggled. "Didn't you ever wonder why they packed you off so early?"

Now he felt the heat across his face. "I . . . what?"

"You Reagans," came her tease. "Noble on the streets, but something else in the sheets. Or tubs, apparently."

Frank wanted to protest, but gave in to a grin as he followed her. "I'm never going to look at a bar of Ivory soap the same way again."

Briar Rose laughed.

Once they were both under the covers, Briar Rose rolled to him, being careful of her shoulder.

"Mrs. Clowderbock-Reagan," Frank murmured playfully.

"Police Commissioner Reagan," Briar Rose skimmed a hand along his furry chest. "You smell nice."

"I try to."

"And you feel nice," Briar Rose continued. "Warm and fuzzy and cute."

"You can't feel cute," Frank objected. "Not physically at least."

Briar Rose slid a leg over his, rubbing herself against his hip. "I can make my best attempt."

He wanted to say something but the press of her body against him felt wonderful and Frank slid an arm around his wife's shoulders, pulling her closer.

"I'm scared," Frank murmured. "Scared of hurting you."

"I'm not," Briar Rose assured him. "See, I heard there's this pretty popular position where I get to lie on my back so my shoulder's not a problem."

"Sounds exotic," Frank managed with a straight face. "Could be dangerous."

"I have to close my eyes and think of the police department," came her soft laugh. "For the rank and file."

"No. I'd really prefer you didn't do that," he felt her lips against the side of his throat and shivered a little. "Maybe narrow it to one officer in particular."

"Mmmmm," came her reply between little kisses. Frank found himself responding strongly; whatever doubts his mind had, his body was good to go, and when Briar Rose's fingers slid along the ridge of his hipbone, he groaned.

"Missed you too," she whispered. "A lot."

"Briar Rose . . ." Frank murmured, and shifted to face her.

Even in the dark, he knew her body; the long muscles of her arms; the heft of her chest and the delicious hollow at the base of her throat. Briar Rose's skin smelled sweet, and warm to his touch. She lay back, taking one of his hands and pressed it under her left breast. "See? Still beating strong."

"Yes," he agreed, comforted by the gesture. He slid his hand to cup the sweet curve before bending to brush his mustache over the stiff nipple. Briar Rose writhed a little, making a kittenish squeak. "Oh, sound effects!"

"You—!" she accused, but he did it again, making Briar Rose wriggle again and the sight of her under him, aroused and smiling was more than enough to dissolve his fear. Frank moved to the other breast, feeling his desire merge with a sense of gratitude.

They shifted, winding around each other, each eager to kiss and touch and nip, moving in happy tandem across the mattress, taking things slowly, sweetly. Briar Rose caressed the back of his hand as he stroked his fingers into her, moaning in a way that sharpened his desire.

When neither of them could hold out any longer, Frank nudged her knees wider apart and shifted her lean thighs up; her legs wrapped around him. Briar Rose looked up at him in the faint light. "I want youuuu," she rasped. "Please sweetheart!"

Her tone, full of lustful love undid him, and he thrust into Briar Rose, giving over to impulse and desire, still being careful to not put any pressure on her shoulder. His wife slid her good arm around him, hanging on, her hips rocking up to meet his strong, steady strokes.

"So good . . ." she crooned, her voice still a little jagged. "Love this, love youuuuu."

He held out through her orgasm but between her words and his own relief, Frank gave way to his own bliss, feeling not only the release but the sheer joy of being reunited with Briar Rose in one of the best ways possible.

Reluctantly he peeled himself off of her, again being careful of her shoulder and moved them both away from the wet spot.

They lay wrapped together, cooling down.

"There," she murmured after a while. "That was good. I needed that, you needed that."

"Umm," he agreed, kissing her temple. "For a while . . ." Frank began, and stopped. Briar Rose looked up at him and he took a breath before continuing. "For a while I didn't think I . . . could. Afraid of twisting your shoulder, or of hurting you."

"I know," Briar Rose replied, yawning a little. "But good old missionary works for now. We can get back to exotic nookie in a while."

"I have never participated in exotic nookie in my life," Frank deadpanned.

Briar Rose rolled her eyes. "You are never going to heaven if you lie like that, Francis Xavier! Who invented the whipped cream body parfait? Who insisted on 'breaking in' the new lounge in the back yard? And hello? Does French Maid ring a bell?"

"Nothing exotic about those," he argued back playfully. "All well within the standard realm of sexual congress. Exotic involves whips, and public nudity and fishsticks."

"Fishsticks?" Briar Rose questioned, startled.

"Fishsticks," Frank nodded. "In eighty-two I brought in an assault victim who had said foodstuffs in a body cavity. Fifteen of Gorton's finest tucked up where the sun doesn't shine. Never served them for dinner again after that."

The sound of Briar Rose smothering her giggles in a pillow was sweet, and eventually they both fell asleep.