He could see a light beneath his bathroom door.
Normally he would have dived into his lab and grabbed the gadget du jour and kicked the door open and had a helluva good time. Now he just pushed the door open with tented fingers.
Tara was sitting on the end of the tub, which was full, wearing his bathrobe. "Finally," she said by way
of greeting. "I didn't think that spook would ever leave."
He gaped at her.
"Sorry I'm late," she added. "I got held up at work. Okay, not really."
"How did you get—never mind." She had his key cards, after all, but he'd find out later how she'd avoided tripping any of the perimeter alarms. "W-what are you doing here?"
She crossed her legs and swung her left foot while she watched him. "Isn't it obvious?"
"Uh—no."
"I thought you were some kind of genius," she teased.
"Uh..."
"I had some things to take care of. Some accounts to close, some money to move, and I had to make
the Tara Marx ident disappear. And I had something of yours to give back."
It almost sounded like she... but that was ridiculous. "Did you forget something on your way out?" he asked politely.
She winced. "Okay, I totally had that coming. Look, I freaked out for a little bit, okay?"
"What'd you use my cards for?"
"Nothing."
"Liar."
"I never lie." She paused. "Okay, that was a lie. But I was all set to use them, to do one last job, and I just... I thought about your stupid fat tie and your dopey multicolored eyes and your messy hair, and I realized it was a bad thing, leaving, and I wanted to make it right."
He worked hard not to show anything on his face, and was pretty sure he succeeded. "Really. And it
took you a month to 'make it right.' "
"Be fair. I woke up that morning perfectly content with my old life, and by the end of the day I wanted something totally different. Well, I couldn't just drop everything and go into it overnight. I had people
to explain things to. I had some work to finish, and some things to—to give back. I didn't want you involved in any of that. And I knew if I told you—well, you know."
"Did you give back all your telephones?" he asked, still polite. "Is that why you didn't call even
one time?"
"I'll go," she said stiffly, standing.
"Dressed like that?"
"I'm sorry. I'm not used to people caring either way when I leave. I should have—never mind. I guess
it's too late. For what it's worth, I guess I went about this all wrong."
She tried to move past him, and he took her (carefully!) by the arms. "I'm just surprised, is all. I was
sort of getting used to you being gone," he lied. "And frankly, not knowing where the rat is, is freaking
me out."
She smiled a little. "Katya, for God's sake. And she's in your other bathroom, taking a nap in the tub."
"The empty tub, one hopes."
"Look, Ben, enough about the rat."
"Katya," he corrected her.
"Right, right. Can I stay, or what?"
"You want to stay?" he asked carefully.
"No, I ran out of rent money."
"Really?"
"No." She smiled. "Not really."
"If you stay, that means you're going to stay."
"Like, what, a golden retriever?"
"I mean it, Janet. If you stay, it means I don't wake up alone and you're here for good and we're
Dr. and Mrs. Dyson."
"And I make banana bread while you design gadgets for the FBI?"
"If you've got a thing for banana bread, fine, go crazy." She had popped open the first button of his
shirt and was nibbling on the hollow of his throat, which made it difficult to remember what he was
trying to say. "I just thought. . . um ... we could be ... ah ... a team. Because I, um, love you."
"Great minds think alike," she murmured, popping open more buttons. "I don't love you at all, but
you've got a nice house and I'm tired of being a nomad. Okay, not really. Ahhhh, there are the shoulders
I remember. Dr. Dyson, has anyone ever told you, you have a fabulous body?"
"Tom never mentioned it," he said. He untied the belt of her—his—robe and spread it open. "Umm. Speaking of fabulous ..." He leaned forward and kissed her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him for a minute, then whispered, "I'm sorry."
"It's all right."
"No, I was an asshole."
"Umm."
"I'll fix it," she vowed, "if it takes twenty years."
"That's a deal, Janet." He pushed the robe off her shoulders and stepped into her, forcing her to back up until she was sitting on the tub. He knelt, pushed her knees wider and kissed her inner thighs, then inhaled her sweet musk and spread her lower lips apart with his tongue. He licked and sucked and felt himself grow painfully hard as her moans did to him what her taste did, as she gripped the sides of the tub and thrust her hips against his face. He sucked her clit into his mouth and teased it with his tongue until she was almost sobbing his name.
"Get over here," she said when he backed off. "Right now."
He had suddenly grown an extra five fingers, because getting his belt loose and his pants down had become nearly impossible. He finally staggered toward her, kicking free of his pants and fumbling for
his boxers when her hand darted inside the fly vent and she seized him.
"Watch this," she said, standing and sounding as if she'd just run a marathon. "This is where being tall really comes in handy." Then she went up on her toes, and he slid inside her as if they had been designed for each other. "Oh, God. That's so nice. Don't stop."
"Right," he panted. "Because I was planning to do just that."
"Shut up and fuck me, Dr. Dyson."
"Call me Ben."
"Shut up and—oh! Oh, God, I'm going to—to—" She writhed against him, and thank goodness, because that about did it for him, he came so hard he saw black dots in front of his eyes. His knees bucked and she let out a little shriek as they fell backward into the tub.
Wriggling and squirming, they both surfaced. "Thank God you've got one of those big onts," she gasped.
"Why, thank you."
"Don't be an ass," she said, but she laughed as she tried to struggle free of his embrace. "God, there's water everywhere. We're gonna need fifty mops."
"Later."
"Well ... I am feeling a little dirty ..."
"Me, too," he sighed, and kissed her again and groped for the bar of soap.
MaryJanice Davidson, The World Is Too Darned Big
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