The Guy Next Door (Chapter 6)

[little_firestar]

Teresa’s life had been nothing but a practiced routine since she had been a teenager. Even long before she left her home, she had decided that Saturday morning was supposed to be spent  washing clothes, cleaning the house and putting in order the bills; so many Saturdays later, putting in order and paying via internet her bills was what she was doing. Until the hammering started. Again.

“I can’t believe it!” she growled, throwing her mobile on the table as she stood. What the hell was Patrick doing? He had already received the tube: now, what part of the apartment was he working on? Why was he hammering, maybe shirtless, showing off those tanned muscles, glistening with sweat?

Teresa blushed, and face-palmed. She couldn’t believe that all she did all day was think about her neighbor like the main character from a b-class Harlequin Romance Novel- one of the guys from the covers, to be more accurate.  And all because of that damn  tube-and Jane, of course. He had insisted that she went on, and when he had talked in her ear, it had been like he had been there with her.

Teresa sighed, and immediately went to the guy next door, eager to talk with him. She was quite… sure of herself, if she could say so. After all, she wasn’t doing it because he was good looking or because she had a crush on him or because she wanted to see if he was shirtless or wearing a t-shirt or what else. She just wanted to ask him if he planned to work all day long. It was a good excuse. Actually, it wasn’t an excuse at all. It was the only reason she was there to begin with, Teresa told herself.

She knocked-twice- and Jane finally emerged; when she saw that he was wearing a grey t-shirt, Teresa couldn’t help but pout a little, but when Jane saw that it was her at the door, he crossed his arms, quite annoyed, and he didn’t even try to deny his hostility.

“Let me guess. All the hammering is annoying you and your friend.”

Teresa lifted her eyebrows, wondering who he was talking about, then she remembered that yes, she had a boyfriend, and he was probably talking about Ray. Right. They had met during the tube “incident”, right?

“Uhm… Ray isn’t here…” She explained, and wondered why she wanted to explain things. Like the fact that Ray was just… he wasn’t important and they weren’t so serious. “So… I was just wondering…” She said, and paused, her green eyes as shining like the ones of a little girl. “I was wondering if you were planning of making all that noise all day long.”

“Why, am I disturbing your precious work again?” he asked, chuckling. His sarcastic tone unnerved her, because it was uncalled for. Her job asked a lot out of her; she was always on call, and when she was home, she worked on reports, case-files and prepared her testimonies for court. Even if a lot of what she did, and all she did at home, was just paperwork and burocracy, it helped, it put bad guys behind bars and made sure they stayed there.

“Actually, I was paying my bills, but yes.” She answered, tempted to show him her tongue like a little kid. “I am supposed to catch on paperwork later today.” And it was true. She was terribly behind, between the Red John case going on court, and having spent four days hunting a serial killer in North California.

“No rest for the wicked…” Jane said, shaking his head. He really didn’t think so, and believed that the lovely Lisbon deserved some rest, but seeing her all red an unnerved was such a reward that it was worth having her madder and madder with him.

“You didn’t answer my question.” She asked, again. “Are you planning on making noise all weekend?”

He chuckled in his shamelessly way. “I’m almost done. Wonna see the product?” he asked, and Teresa blushed like a virgin. She knew he was talking about the tube, but she felt like he was asking her for sex, to see him naked. And besides, even if he was talking about the tub… it was already too much, with all the innuendos and the X-rated scenarios planted in her mind by his sexy voice.

“Better if I don’t.” Teresa said, shaking her head; he didn’t asked her why, and she was grateful, for she was that close to spill the truth. Because we’ve played the sexy couple in your tube on the pavement, and because I spend all my free time wondering how good you could be in bed, and because if I enter in your place, I’ll probably jump and violate you.

Instead, she lied and said. “I have still to pay a couple of bills.”

“Bills can wait, woman. Your curiosity… not so much.” Jane said, grinning, and before she could say anything, he took her hand, and practically dragged her inside. She knew she could have fought him with her training, despite being very petite but Jane had been right: with her line of work, curiosity was kind of part of the package, after all.

“Ok, just one moment, though. I really need to pay those bills today.” She said, trying to sound stern, but her answer sounded lame even to her own ears.  She sighed, wondering if she was damning herself, and walked at his back, their hands still laced together; the apartment was exactly how Jane looked like to the observer, masculine yet classical, with an hint of something… old. No, not old, she corrected herself- classical, and elegant, like the clothes she had seen him wearing on a couple of occasions. Even the fridge wasn’t a steely monstrosity like Ray’s, but a (brand new) little cream colored thing that looked like something from “Happy Days”. But what left her breathless was the fact that, despite the fact that this apartment seemed the twin of her own, it was completely different.

Because it has its own personality- Jane’s. She thought, shivering. He was still holding her hand, and she started to feel uncomfortable. His touch was burning her hand, remembering that just few hours before Ray had tried to do the same as he had walked her to her car.

“So...” she asked to break the tension, hoping that he would notice their predicament and let it go of her. “Are all the apartments the same?”

Jane lifted his eyebrow and turned to look at her. He was still holding her hand, and didn’t seem to notice, or to mind it too much. “Why should I know this, Miss Lisbon?” he asked, chuckling, and when she opened her mouth to talk, he stopped her, and talked for her. “Oh, because you think I’ve been the one who worked on the building? Nonsense, my dear. I told you: that’s not my work, merely an hobby. When I bought here, they hadn’t started to work on it yet, and decided that I could do it on my own. As an investment; and a way to pass time before deciding what to do with the rest of my life.”

“You aren’t planning  on living here long term?” she asked, biting her tongue before being tempted to ask again what his real work was.  She looked around, and wondered how it was possible that the place wasn’t his home; it wasn’t just for the work he had done, but the furniture too. It didn’t look like a single guys place, it was too classy, too elegant, too… feminine. She froze, thanking God that she hadn’t spoken out loud: those were probably pieces of furniture from his old house, things that his late wife had probably choose for their life together.

“Are you a forensic psychologist?” She asked out loud suddenly, her eyes glued to the bookshelves, filled with old books, classics, but, mostly, texts about forensic, behavior, history of profiling, the greatest serial killers  and analysis of body language. She skimmed over the spine of few volumes, and took in hands one, an edition of Shakespeare’s “Sonnets” that looked old and expensive. The dedication in the first page said To Annie, My sweet Angel, with all my love, and a promise of many Christmas like this to come, your always, Patrick.

“Someone pays attention…” He says with a bit of rage, taking the book from her hands and putting it back in its place. She looked at her feet, feeling ire and shame at the same time; shame because she had introduced in a memory she wasn’t supposed to, and ire because he had to know she hadn’t done it on purpose.

“Yes, I do.” She admitted. She couldn’t look at his face, fearing it would betray her emotions, and instead, she focused on his hands, but when she realized that that, too, was wrong, she decided to roam the apartment once again. This time, her gaze fell on a photograph, clearly taken by an amateur. It wasn’t professional, and the quality of the paper seemed low even through the glass, but it took her breath away as well. It was a mansion by the sea, and even if she couldn’t see it all, she could bet it was huge. She wondered if Jane had worked on that place too, but looking at the picture closely, she could understand it wasn’t the case. It was new and modern, flashy, not the kind of thing he said he liked.

“Coffee?” he asked, with again a hint of anger in his voice. He seemed annoyed, and the way he looked at the picture made her understand that it was that image that had driven him insane. But then, why having it there, if he hated it that much?  She wanted to ask and talk, Curiosity  killed the cat, but his eyes told her everything she needed to know: their talk was done. So, she simply nodded, and followed him in the kitchen, hugging her arms.

“You know what? I think I’d prefer some water…” She said. Coffee was too long, and the less she stayed there, the better it was. Jane was… well, he was Jane, and she was starting to be a bit too attracted to the man. She really was that close to jump him.

He turned to look at her, and after a second if silence, with a questioning expression, he looked at Teresa, clearly perplexed. “Ok?” he said, not sure if it was a question or an answer. He took a big breath, and turning on his heels, he marched for the fridge. Huge, huge mistake. Teresa thought, as she saw him bending. The position showed a line of tanned skin of his back, and showed off his muscles. She grunted, hating herself for the desire that never left her whenever such a specimen was around. God, she had a boyfriend- sort of- and even if Ray wasn’t such a nice person, or had any particular talents (besides catching bad guys) and the sex was, well, simply awful (for her), it didn’t mean that she had to be aroused by… by… well, by her asshole of a neighbor.

“Did you spend a nice evening with your friend?” she heard him ask, and his voice brought her back to reality, and yet, even if she heard well his accent on the word friend, she still blushed, thanking God that he wasn’t there. Jane seemed able to read people’s minds, to understand what was going through their heads: being spotted while thinking malicious thoughts about him wasn’t in her top ten list, definitely, she felt it was something he would have never left her live down.

“His name is Ray, and well…” she decided to stay quiet. What was she supposed to say? She had been at the office, listening to a press conference; of course it hadn’t been fun, and he probably already knew it. He just wanted to hear her saying that at loud, and like hell she was going to admit this to a man who didn’t seem to know the meaning of the word “responsibility”.

She grunted. “Ray’s team stopped a cartel-related gang.” She said, trying to show off, but not really feeling it. Bertram had talked like only Ray’s team had done all the hard work, but she and her team had been involved as well. Unfortunately, Ray was in a slightly higher position right now, and in Bertram’s graces as well, thanks to his political aspirations.

“Uh, Uh.” Jane said, chuckling, offering her the bottle, minus the glass. “My, my, Miss Lisbon. I feel like you aren’t exactly a crazy in love, diligent girlfriend.”

“I’m not…” She started, feeling the hate reaching her cheeks. But, for reason unknown to her, she couldn’t end the sentence, admit that she and Ray were seeing each other outside the job, for totally not-job related reasons. She knew it should have been the right thing to do, that she needed to put an end to Jane’s outrageous flirting, but instead of saying more, when she saw Jane’s grin, she moved a little away, the bottle still in her hand, and started to wander around. “So, that fabulous bathroom you are so proud of? Does it really exist or is it just part of your fantasy?”

Jane simply smirked, and shook his head. “Please follow me, My Lady.”

She did as he told, and followed him until they stopped on the threshold of the bathroom. Cautiously, she peeped in, finding a delicious room: the tiles were black and white, arranged like a chessboard, and the huge tube was set on the far end of the room, underneath a white wooden shelf.

She sighed. She loved that bathroom. She wanted that bathroom to be in her apartment. But it wasn’t like she was going to admit it. First, it didn’t sound too practical- and she had told Jane she was the practical type- and second, he seemed to have a huge enough ego as it was.

“Nice, but I’d miss a shower late in the evening.”

He chuckled, and Teresa shivered. The shameless bastard was leaning close to her, he was so close that his hot breathing was making her shiver- mostly because of his damn innuendos. “Oh, but I do have a shower in my master bathroom. Big enough for two. Like this baby here.” He said, and a part of Teresa wanted to run away, far from him. She had it bad enough already with her sinful thoughts of Jane in the tub, and now every evening she was going to imagine him naked in the shower as well, in her company, moaning and kissing and…

She blushed, shaking her head and trying to fight that sordid thoughts. God, what had she done? She had always thought to be a relatively good person, why was karma, God or what else sending Patrick Jane her way?

“Do you like it, Teresa?” she felt his hot breath in her ear, her name never before sounding so dirty, sexy and sinful, and she shivered from head to toes. “Do you like my apartment?”

Right. That was what he was talking about, the apartment. Not the idea of messy, dirty sex with her under the shower or in the tub.

“Yeah, you did a really great job.” She admitted at closed eyes, trying to send away his scent. He was close, too close for comfort, but she had always been a fighter, and she wasn’t going to give up first, whatever this game was and meant. “You are very… capable.”

And who knew what else he was very capable at. And what else those big, strong hands of his could do.
He hummed between himself. “Interesting choice of words, Lisbon. Interesting, indeed.”

She shook her head. His arrogance and his proximity were intoxicating her. Clearing her foggy mind a bit, she took a few steps away from him. She was so lost in her own thoughts that as she moved across the apartment, she didn’t even see when she hit the bookcase. A pile of books fell on the floor, and she immediately went on her knees to put them back in order.

“Hey! You all right?” he asked as he hurried up at her side and stated to help Teresa with the mess she had made. 

“Yeah, yeah, just… let me put them on the table, at least.” He said. Teresa took a book in hands, and her eyes fell on the title; it was a volume she had read as well, by FBI Profiler David Rossi, Deviance: The Secret Desires of Sadistic Serial Killers.

“A light reading, uh?” she rhetorically asked, smiling a little, her curious eyes moving from the book to his face.

“I don’t sleep a lot at night.” He tried to justify himself, than, as he saw her keeping looking at the book, he sighed.

Apparently, a few words were in order, because if he wasn’t mistaken- and he almost never was- Teresa Lisbon was starting to believe that he was interested in serial killers because he was a killer in the making.

Unless… he found a way to move her attention to another subject. It wasn’t going to work for too long, but maybe it could give him few days.

“Ehy, by the way, before I forget, I’ve got something for you.” He smiled, and left his position and went to his room. She heard him looking for something, and when he reemerged, he had a sheet of paper in his hands. He gave it to her, and she saw what it was.

It was a sketch of her kitchen- with the changes suggested by Jane the day he had come over. It was clear it wasn’t professional, and yet it was very accurate, and she saw how much thought there was in it.

“You really aren’t an architect, right?” she asked, looking around. There were few books on the topic, and even one called Renovation for Dummies, so it was clear that it wasn’t his line of work.

“I already told you I’m not.” He said, almost snapping. Teresa jumped slightly, and he noticed immediately. Feeling like a monster, and knowing that he had just been one, he sighed. “I  used to work for the police. Like a profiler. And, sometimes…like a sort of life-coach for the richest.”

She opened her mouth to ask something, but he moved away from her, and went to look outside from one of the windows. With that particular life, he seemed dark, broody, a tormented soul. Teresa would have loved to investigate the mystery that was Patrick Jane furthermore, but something stopped her. She moved closer and closer, and before she realized it, her hand was on his shoulder, and even if she burned at the contact, she couldn’t help but rub his shoulder. That, though, awoke him, and he turned; his eyes on hers were deep, lost, like he didn’t know what to do.

“I’m supposed to meet a friend at the flea market. He is bringing me a couple of lamps.” He suddenly said. She opened her mouth to say that it was all right, that she was supposed to get back to work anyway, but he stopped her before she could even say a word. “Come with me. It’s such a nice day; it would be a waste to stay closed in your apartment working.”

“Jane…” She said, shaking her head. “I… I can’t.” Even if she wanted to. His smile his energy, was contagious.  And besides… she knew he had said those words because he was hiding something, and a part of her wanted to follow him around just to unwrap that enigma that was wrapped around a mystery, named Patrick Jane.

“But you want to, Teresa.” He said her name sinfully, like her name of one of those sexy heroines of romance novels or history. From his lips, Teresa sounded exactly like Mata Hari. 

“You’re a psychic or what?” she asked, flirting a bit. With her back now against the cold glass of the window, she heard her voice, and she blushed, realizing that she had, indeed, purred like a naughty kitty.

“There’s no such a thing as psychics.” He told her, flirting back. “All I need to know is written in your eyes, Teresa.” Those green huge eyes, that could shine like emeralds but had been misty like the most common old glass. They had mesmerized him from the beginning. One look and he knew: she was trouble. Of the best kind.

Only, Teresa didn’t know it yet.

Lost in his eyes, Teresa couldn’t break eye-contact. She didn’t want to succumb to him, but neither could she admit defeat. She tried to look stern, professional like she did on the job, because she couldn’t admit, especially to him, that he was right, that she wanted it, wanted him to keep skimming over her over-sensible skin.

“Maybe my eyes are just telling you to let go of me.” But she moaned, slightly, at the contact, and those words couldn’t have sounded more false.

He shook his head. “Your pupils dilate when you see something you like.” He paused. “Something you desire.”

She wanted to say something, had decided to eat her pride and just look away, but before she realized what was happening, Jane had cupped her face with his hand and was getting closer and closer. She decided to not fight it, and closed her eyes and she answered to his kiss, allowing his taste of mint and tea to mix with her own of coffee.

God. He kissed like a God. Kissed her like she hadn’t been kissed in a long time.

When they parted, they were both out of breath, and his hands were lingering on her skin. “That’s what I thought I was seeing in your eyes.”

She closed her eyes, not knowing how she was supposed to behave. She could have tried to escape- it would have been the smartest move- but she had responded to his kiss, so faking rage wasn’t part of the equation any longer. She decided to just cross her arms, and pretend it was all his fault anyway- it had worked pretty well until that point, after all.

“Don’t do that ever again.” She said, hating that cat got the canary smile of his. “I don’t care what you think. That’s inappropriate and I’m not interested.”

Jane didn’t even pretend to be offended or sorry for what he had done. “Oh, Teresa, Teresa, we both know you are lying through your teeth.”

She opened her mouth to say all those words that the nuns back at school had forbidden her to use, never, ever, but before she could let out a syllable, he had taken her hand and was dragging Lisbon out of his apartment.

“C’mon, Lisbon, you even have already taken your purse with you!”  She shook her head, tried to stop him to say something, but the words kept dying in her throat. “C’mon, it’s not like I’m abducting you!”

She looked at their intertwined hands. His hold wasn’t too strong, and with her training she could have gotten free whenever she liked. Only, she didn’t seem to want it.  Which was crazy, but the more she wanted to act stern and professional, the more she allowed Jane to get away with, well, everything, and now, here she was, going from “keeping her distance” to “trotting toward the flea market hand in hand”. And back at home, she had a briefcase filled with paperwork and case reports to work on. That were supposed to be ready for the Monday meeting with Bertram and Minelli. God. It was time to call a shrink. She had gotten crazy- everybody could have certified it.

“The world will not end because you took few hours for yourself.” He said, with the same tone he would have probably used to talk with an unnerving child. It irritated her- it showed his complete lack of respect for her and her work. Who did he think he was? “And before you could say it: I didn’t abducted you. You could have gotten free anytime, but you didn’t. Ergo,  you want to be out on such a beautiful day.”

Damn life-coach, profiling eye-reader that you are. She thought, groaning. It wasn’t a very lady-like sound, but the hell with that. She was mad with Jane, after all. Then, something hit her. “Just out of curiosity, why did you kiss me?”

He groaned out of frustration, again like she was a kid- but this time, one who wouldn’t get it right. “I told you, Lisbon. You wanted to be kissed. By me.” He paused as he saw the disbelief written all over her features. “Well, there’s also the fact that you are a beautiful woman whom I’m attracted to and I wanted to kiss you…” Actually, there was much more he had wanted to do with her, but he didn’t want to scare her. Also, it was hard to admit even for Jane himself, given his past and the loss of Angela.

He groaned as he saw how mad she was getting. Too much for his own good. “Listen, if you don’t want me to kiss you any longer, just say it and I’ll follow your orders, boss.”

“Good.” She said, faking a security she was far from feeling. “Then, enough with the kissing.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.” He sing-songed, but when he saw the fire in her eyes, and felt her grip on his hand tighten, he realized how forceful Teresa could be. “Ok, no more kisses? Scout’s honor?” He swore, howling like a wolf, and she couldn’t help but smile as she nodded.

They walked slowly, calmly, until Jane  stopped at a stand where a man a little older than him, definitely well-built, was stationed. The two men said hello to each other with packs on their shoulders, and they started to chat about this and that before Jane was shown the lamps he was waiting for, few pieces in Art Nuveau Style. Teresa, as much as she liked them, wasn’t that interested, so she started to look around, as she hadn’t been at a flea market since Chicago, and even if she didn’t miss buying second hand clothes, it was still a funny and  rather interesting experience. Then, as she was strolling around, her eyes catching Jane’s frame every now and then, something stole her attention away.

The breath died in her throat as she saw it, a 50s vintage halter dress. Bright red with small white polka dots, knee length, with a full-circle swing skirt and a frou-frou white petticoat. It didn’t even seem real, it was like something out of Grease, something that Olivia Newton John’s character could have worn at the beginning of the movie, when she was still saintly and pure Sandy.  Teresa got closer and closer, and skimmed a hand over the soft fabric. It was just cotton, but even though the dress was old, it wasn’t ruined and was still in perfect condition.

She didn’t see, nor hear, anything, so lost she was in the simple and yet beautiful dress. The saleswoman, a lady in her sixties, had to elbow her on the side to get her attention. Teresa turned, fearing that the lady would be mad as she had touched the dress, but the woman was smiling brightly.

“You should try it on.” The woman said, taking the dress from its display. Before Teresa could protest, the woman had ushered her in front of a full-size mirror, had tied the ribbon at the back of Teresa’s neck, and had flattened the fabric against her waist, so that she could imagine herself wearing it.

“I…” Teresa struggled for words, looking at her reflection in the mirror. “I usually don’t wear second hand clothes…” not any longer, she continued in her mind.

The woman shook her head. “Nonsense. The color and design, it’s perfect for you. It fits your hair and makes your frame stand out.” She patted Teresa on the shoulders like she was a child, or they were aunt and niece. “I’m sure we could reach an agreement…”

Teresa kept looking at her small frame in the dress, and imagined herself with it. It was soft and the red was bright, and it really suited her- it wasn’t just something that the woman had made up to sell a piece.

“Wow.” She heard, and when she turned, she saw Jane, staring at her in awe, with eyes and mouth wide open.

But that wasn’t her life. And that dress wasn’t suited for her. it didn’t mean anything that it looked good on her- it just wasn’t enough. She gave it back to the woman, and shook her head, sad and apologetically. “I’m sorry, but, I don’t think that I’d ever had any occasion to wear it, with the kind of life that I have.”

“What? You don’t want it?” Jane asked, surprised, his eyes fixed on the dress even after she had walked past him.

She shook his head. “I don’t have free time, and I don’t really see myself tackling criminals with such a cute dress.” She tried to laugh at it, but Jane saw the nervousness and the sadness behind it, and understood that she was lying; only, he didn’t know if it was to him, or herself. He decided not to inquire further, and instead, looked around.

“Ehy, there’s a place I know not far from here. What do you say about lunch?”

Teresa nodded, but after he walked past her, she turned one last time to look at the red dress, and she almost waked back to the nice woman. But before she could do anything, she mentally lectured herself.

It’s just an old dress. And you promised yourself that you were done with that life.