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Chapter Eight
Posted by
jlk
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15 September 2012
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Eve tilted her head, almost resting her brow on Evan’s shoulder. “I just don’t see how you can suddenly say there’s an m value. Where did it come from?” She looked up at him in confusion. She wasn’t angry, just interested. Her brown eyes shown with faith he had the answers she needed to solve this puzzle.
He leaned over her, showing her, explaining. He had one arm draped over the back of the booth where they sat at the Eatery. The fingers of that hand brushed her hair, toying with it. Used to Roarke’s same gestures, Eve didn’t particularly notice. Her attention was on the problem.
Peabody straightened up. Tagged McNab. “Look at this,” she asked, and tuned the link so he could see Dallas and the professor while she continued to record this little interlude the good professor had set up. “What do you see?” They both watched the man tap Dallas on the nose with a finger. Her LT made another try with the pencil on paper. His lips brushed her hair as he bent close to offer some instruction.
“Roarke’s afternoon snack,” McNab answered. “God she’s dense sometimes,” he said of his cohab’s partner.
Peabody turned the screen back to its normal position. “I guess you should tell him.”
“Me?”
“You’re friends.”
“So what? You tell him.”
“What about Feeney?” Peabody reasoned Roarke wouldn’t rage much at his defacto father=in=law.
“Just got sent over to Madison for a cybercrimes case.” McNab figured he could keep protesting, but was pretty sure he knew how it would turn out. If he wanted sex again with Peabody. And he definitely wanted sex with the very ripe and luscious star of Tuesday’s Homeland Security Office drill. “I’ll call Roarke.”
Peabody hid a grin. “Good idea.” Then she went back to recording and watching the good professor pawing her partner. She figured a visual would help Roarke get the picture. So to speak.
“I swear this part isn’t getting through my head,” Eve sighed. “And we’re out of time.” She chewed on the pencil.
“What time are you off shift tonight?” He stood up, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.
“Five” Eve absently stored her study materials in her bag, standing up beside him. She gazed around the Eatery, picking out several of her men, nodding to Peabody as her partner approached from across the room.
“Why don’t we meet on my side of town? There’s a wonderful Greek place that has real coffee and baklava. You’ll like it, my young student,” he intoned, teasing her. “I have another individual student at 630, so it’s the only time I can give you.” He tapped her temple. “I think you need some extra time, too.”
“Ok, thanks.”
“It’s called Giorgio’s, off Bland.” He rubbed her back absently then wandered off.
Eve smiled as she watched him go. What a sweetie. He reminded her of Dr. Mira’s husband, also a professor. She had a bit of a crush on him. Mira didn’t seem to mind. “Let’s go get a cold case, Peabody, since no one wants to face the possibility of the top bitch Detective in New York City catching them. That’s you,” she added, when her partner didn’t respond.
“Oh yeah, sure,” was Peabody’s vague response as she watched the professor leave.
“Peabody,” Eve sighed, “you’ve got to quit fantasizing about my math teacher.”
“I’ll get right on that, Sir.”
He leaned over her, showing her, explaining. He had one arm draped over the back of the booth where they sat at the Eatery. The fingers of that hand brushed her hair, toying with it. Used to Roarke’s same gestures, Eve didn’t particularly notice. Her attention was on the problem.
Peabody straightened up. Tagged McNab. “Look at this,” she asked, and tuned the link so he could see Dallas and the professor while she continued to record this little interlude the good professor had set up. “What do you see?” They both watched the man tap Dallas on the nose with a finger. Her LT made another try with the pencil on paper. His lips brushed her hair as he bent close to offer some instruction.
“Roarke’s afternoon snack,” McNab answered. “God she’s dense sometimes,” he said of his cohab’s partner.
Peabody turned the screen back to its normal position. “I guess you should tell him.”
“Me?”
“You’re friends.”
“So what? You tell him.”
“What about Feeney?” Peabody reasoned Roarke wouldn’t rage much at his defacto father=in=law.
“Just got sent over to Madison for a cybercrimes case.” McNab figured he could keep protesting, but was pretty sure he knew how it would turn out. If he wanted sex again with Peabody. And he definitely wanted sex with the very ripe and luscious star of Tuesday’s Homeland Security Office drill. “I’ll call Roarke.”
Peabody hid a grin. “Good idea.” Then she went back to recording and watching the good professor pawing her partner. She figured a visual would help Roarke get the picture. So to speak.
“I swear this part isn’t getting through my head,” Eve sighed. “And we’re out of time.” She chewed on the pencil.
“What time are you off shift tonight?” He stood up, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.
“Five” Eve absently stored her study materials in her bag, standing up beside him. She gazed around the Eatery, picking out several of her men, nodding to Peabody as her partner approached from across the room.
“Why don’t we meet on my side of town? There’s a wonderful Greek place that has real coffee and baklava. You’ll like it, my young student,” he intoned, teasing her. “I have another individual student at 630, so it’s the only time I can give you.” He tapped her temple. “I think you need some extra time, too.”
“Ok, thanks.”
“It’s called Giorgio’s, off Bland.” He rubbed her back absently then wandered off.
Eve smiled as she watched him go. What a sweetie. He reminded her of Dr. Mira’s husband, also a professor. She had a bit of a crush on him. Mira didn’t seem to mind. “Let’s go get a cold case, Peabody, since no one wants to face the possibility of the top bitch Detective in New York City catching them. That’s you,” she added, when her partner didn’t respond.
“Oh yeah, sure,” was Peabody’s vague response as she watched the professor leave.
“Peabody,” Eve sighed, “you’ve got to quit fantasizing about my math teacher.”
“I’ll get right on that, Sir.”
