Roses Are Red

Chapter One Hundred and Four

Betsey was already slipping off her leather jacket. Then she was in my arms by the time the door clicked shut. We were kissing and moving against each other, and it seemed like a slow, graceful, irresistible dance to me. We were both infatuated, and that's not so bad, I was thinking. Good, old-fashioned fun. Isn't that what she had promised?

Betsey felt electric, but also very comfortable in my arms. She was a study in contrasts. She was small and light, but also athletic and strong; she was very smart and serious, but she was fu

We moved toward the bed and let ourselves fall on to it. I don't know who was leading, following. It didn't make any difference. I buried my face in her white silk blouse.

I looked into her brown eyes. "You were pretty sure of yourself. Pre-registering and all."

"It was time," she said, nothing more.

I took off her soft, creamy-white blouse and short black skirt a piece at a time. I gently stroked her silky smooth face; then her arms, legs, the bottoms of her feet. It must have taken us half an hour to get undressed.

"You have the most wonderful touch," she whispered. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

"I won't. I like touching too. Don't you stop."

"Oh God, this is so good! Alexl' she screeched, completely out of character.

I kissed her where I'd touched her with my fingers. She was so warm to the touch. She wore a wonderful perfume, which she told me was Alfred Sung's Forever. I kissed her lips, not forever, but for a long, long time.

We danced some more, held each other, kissed a lot, stroked each other's bodies. We had all the time in the world. God I had missed being with someone like this.

"Now. Please?" one of us whispered finally.

It was definitely time.

I entered Betsey slowly, very slowly. I kept going as far as I could inside her. I was on top, but I held my weight on my forearms. We were moving together and it seemed so effortless and right. She started to hum, no particular song, just sweetness that made me vibrate like a tuning fork.

"I like being with you," I said. "A lot. Even more than I expected."

"Oh, me too. I told you this would be better than chasing after the Mastermind."

"This is so much better."

"Now! Please?"

Chapter One Hundred and Five

Betsey and I fell asleep in each other's arms at some point later that afternoon.

I woke up first and saw it was almost six already. It didn't matter what time it was. Not even what day. I called home, checked in on everybody. They were happy I was out and having F-U-N for a change.

I was. I watched Betsey sleep in the nude, and I would have been content to do that for a long time. I thought about drawing a warm bath for the two of us. Should I? Yes, I should. Why not?

In the bathroom, I spotted a jar of bright blue bubble bath beads near her things. She was way ahead of me, wasn't she? I wondered if I liked that, and decided that I did.

The tub was filling up slowly when I heard her speak behind me. "Oh, good, I've wanted to have a bubble bath with you."

I looked around at her she still was in the nude.

"You thought about this before, huh?"

"Oh yes. And often. What do you think I'm doing during those endless briefing sessions?"

A few moments later, we were stepping into the rub together. It felt incredibly good; the antidote for the hard work, the tension, the frustration we'd been experiencing over the past weeks.

"I like being with you so much," Betsey whispered as she stared into my eyes. "I don't want to leave this rub, or you. This is heaven."

"They have excellent room service. The best in DC," I reminded her. They'll probably come right to tub side if we ask nicely."

"Let's find out," Betsey said.

Chapter One Hundred and Si

It went like that, dreamily, wonderfully, perfectly, through the rest of Saturday and into Sunday morning. The only problem the time went too fast.

The more I was around her and the more we talked, the more I liked her; and I had liked her before we went to the Four Seasons. What wasn't there to like? Only once Saturday did we talk briefly about the Mastermind case. Betsey asked if I thought we were in any danger. She wondered if he might be stalking us. Neither of us had an answer for that one, but we had both brought our guns.

Around ten Sunday morning, we had breakfast served to us at the pool. We sat on chaise-lounges cushioned with fluffy blue and white towels. We read the Washington Post and the New York Times. We got an occasional curious look, but the Four Seasons is a sophisticated hotel chain and the people who stay here, especially at the hotel in Washington, have seen it all and much, much more. Besides, I'm sure Betsey and I looked content and happy together.

I should have seen it coming. I don't know why but suddenly I was thinking about the person behind the robberies, murders, and kidnappings: The Mastermind. I tried to will the thought away. I couldn't. The Dragonslayer was back; the job was back.

I looked at Betsey. Her eyes were shut and she seemed perfectly relaxed. That morning she'd done her nails a bright shade of red. She'd done her lips the same color. She didn't look like an FBI agent anymore. She was sexy and beautiful and I was loving our time together.

I hated to bother her. She'd earned some time off, and she was lying so peacefully on her chaise-lounge.

"Betsey?"

Her lips slowly formed a smile. She kept her eyes shut tightly. She wriggled her body slightly to get a better position on the chaise-lounge.

"Yes. I'd love to go back to the room with you. I'd even give up this toasry feeling on my neck and back for it. We can leave our towels on the chairs. Maybe they'll still be here when we get back."

I smiled, then I lightly massaged her back. "I hate to do this, Betsey. Can we talk about the case? About him?"

She opened her eyes. They had become narrowed and focused. Just like that, Betsey was all business. I was amazed at the transformation. If anything, she was worse than I was. "What about him?" she asked. "What are you thinking?"

I moved over to the edge of her seat. "We've spent the last weeks digging about Metro Hartford Then questioning Macdougall. During all that time, we've ignored the banks he hit earlier. Betsey, I want to look through all the old files again. Even the perso