Chapter 2 - First Date

Pairing:: Sara/Catherine

Rating:: PG 13

Spoilers:: None

Disclaimer:: Not my show! Sadly.

Summary:: DINNNAH TIME!



PART 2, FIRST DATE



An hour later, Catherine and I were munching bruschetta at Toscana. The night was Hollywood-summertime perfect, the moon a full O overhead.

Toscana is an Italian eatery hidden in an alleyway by an enclave of cafe's, spas, and boutiques.

While the establishments are a bit too special for my budget, I do enjoy Toscana, especially in the outdoor dining months. It and Volare are my favorite Italian places. Tonight I chose Toscana.

Catherine and I sat at a small wrought-iron table in the restaurant's cobbled courtyard. Behind us, a fountain tinkled softly. To our left, a couple debated the mountains versus the beach. A female threesome on out right compared golf handicaps.

Cath sported a light, see-through, a blouse that was the exact cornflower blue of her eyes, and a black under shirt that clung to her finely distinguished curves. Her face was tan from spending so much time outside during her spare time, her hair still a little damp from a quick shower at my apartment.

She looked good.

Very good.

I wasn't chopped liver myself.

Head-turner black linen sundress. Strap sandals. Victoria's most secret thong.

The last few days had served up too many dead corpses and too much death. I'd made a decision. Like my neckline, I was taking the plunge.

The waiter that had seated us inquired as to our cocktail preferences. Catherine asked for a margarita. I ordered a Perrier with lemon. Barely masking his disappointment, the waiter withdrew.

I looked at Catherine. She dragged her gaze from my chest to my eyes.

"Does everyone in Las Vegas play golf?"

"Only those who are too fat to play tennis."

She smiled. I blushed.

"Would you like to hit a few balls sometime?"

"Could be fun." She said, reaching across the table to place her hand on mine.

Defiantly not the time.

The waiter returned with our drinks, and explained the menu. Catherine ordered the sea bass. I went for the strange veggie soup, carefully leaving my palm on the table.

When the waiter departed, Catherine's hand came back to mine. Her face showed a mixture of concern and confusion.

"You're not nervous about Sunday, are you?"

In two days I was going to court to testify.

"No," I scoffed,

Really, no.

"You seem tense."

"I'm just disappointed that you can't come to the beach."

Cath tiptoed her fingertips up my arm.

We've done this for weeks, this harmless flirting. It meant nothing... right?

"I've been waiting these many years to see you in a string-bikini." There she goes again.

A smile crept its way onto my face.

The fingers spidered back down.

"We will get to the beach."

If goose bumps can burn, mine did.

I cleared my throat.

"There are scores of unmarked graves on these old farms. Those hand bones of yours have probably been underground for ages."

At that moment the waiter placed salads between us.

We switched gears during dinner, talking about everything but ourselves and our work. Not a word about bones. No reference to tomorrow.

No reference to later tonight.

You are not authorized to comment here. Your must be registered and logged in to comment