Fushigi Yuugi Fan Fiction ❯ Leather and Lace ❯ Chapter 7

Leather and Lace

By: Maidens of Konan (aka KittyLynne and Adriana Morgan)

(Disclaimer: Fushigi Yûgi is owned by Watase Yû, Shogakukan Comics, Pierrot Studios, TV Tokyo and Pioneer! However, we do claim the rights to the original elements of this story, and the present lives of any original characters that may appear in this story. Any attempt to fold, spindle, mutilate or otherwise rip off the results of creativity with be smited by Hotohori's holy sword.

Warning: This chapter scores an M rating for sensuality and language.

Chapter Seven

After his guest had gone to change, Dante quickly set about clearing the last of the dirty dishes from the table. Normally he would have just left them sitting in the sink until the next morning, but he highly suspected that if he didn't do them now Miaka would insist upon doing them when she returned. There was no way he'd allow that, especially after she had cooked him such a wonderful meal!

He grinned to himself, recalling the super sized portions she had happily consumed at dinner. It was pretty amazing that someone so petite could tuck away that much food, but he honestly didn't mind Miaka's healthy appetite. If truth be told, he actually found it refreshing. What he didn't appreciate were females that made a big deal about having a salad because they were 'dieting', but then turned around and ate half of the food off his plate.

While grimacing at the memory of past dates gone bad, Dante opened the door of the dishwasher and dropped in a detergent tab. He then turned on the faucet before beginning the mindless chore of scraping, rinsing and loading, all the while thinking about Miaka and her appearance on his doorstep.

In the past, he had made a big point of discouraging his girlfriends from coming to see him at home, mainly because he refused to share his private refuge with any woman he damn well knew was only interested in him for his body and how he could please her with it. It had been surprising (and somewhat depressing) to find how many females he came across were like that. Sandra had been the first woman he'd allowed access to his stronghold, and now he could admit that was probably because they had made better friends than lovers. After, he'd first been attracted to her because she had been more interested in sharing conversation than sharing bodies.

Even though he'd welcomed her into his sanctuary, he was aware that Sandy never had been entirely comfortable with their arrangement. She always waited for his invitation to visit, and made it clear she wouldn't consider staying overnight. The only time she'd dropped in on him was the night she'd dumped him. She'd stood in the foyer, poised on the edge of making an exit- an apt analogy, considering she'd probably viewed their entire relationship in that light.

So, given his past with women, then, he'd have to say it was pretty damn significant that he hadn't given Miaka's unannounced visit a second thought. What was more, she'd made him absurdly happy by being comfortable enough to raid his refrigerator, drink his booze, and boss him around in his own kitchen, not to mention having a food fight! Dante chuckled aloud, recalling the impromptu skirmish. He'd always liked and respected a woman who could take a risk as well as all the good humored crap he tended to dish out, and Miaka definitely fell into that category...

At that realization, Dante's hands abruptly stilled under the running water. Now that he thought about it, he'd never had fun with any woman in the way he just had with Miaka. Sure, he and Sandy had shared laughs whenever they'd watched TV sitcoms or exchanged light gossip about various co-workers, but they'd never gotten downright silly...or even kidded each other, for that matter. One thing he had caught onto right away is that Sandy took herself very seriously, and didn't like being teased. Miaka, on the other hand, had demonstrated the endearing ability of being able to poke fun at her own shortcomings, as well as being a good sport when he'd given her a bad time.

And, as long as he was making comparisons, there was something else. He had thought himself devastated when Sandy dumped him for her ex, but the fact he'd let her go without a fuss after six months together proved his heart hadn't been engaged as much as he had thought.

That definitely wasn't going to be the case with Miaka. After knowing her less than a day, he already knew there was no way he'd calmly allow her to walk out of his life. No matter what the obstacles and cost to his ego, he'd try like hell to be with her. Just the thought of not succeeding was something that was too painful to contemplate.

How had the woman become that damn important to him this quickly?

Well for one thing, he thought, answering his own question by ticking off the points in his head, there was nothing phony or calculated about Miaka. Besides her sense of humor, her positive outlook on things had impressed him, and her wide-eyed attentiveness during their conversation at dinner had charmed him. Her beauty was an all-natural one, enhanced by a zest for life and what seemed to be an inherently loving nature. She also had a generosity of spirit that made a lasting impression on those who came in contact with her, including one very cynical coffeehouse owner.

Dante smirked, remembering Craig's whispered comment to him after Miaka had paid for the lunches and left a huge gratuity in the tip jar."Ya got an honest-to-god keeper there, Tager. Don't fuck it up!"

Having that resounding stamp of approval from his best friend carried a lot of weight, and underscored his own instincts about the situation. If his mother were here, she would probably have added that the time and place didn't matter when one found a soulmate... something which would certainly explain his instant and damn near uncontrollable attraction to Miaka Yuuki.

It was just his cursed luck that someone else had got to her first.

Dante finished loading the last of the plates and silverware as his thoughts turned to his competition. He supposed he should be feeling guilty for sniffing around another man's woman...but then again, why should he when the guy wasn't appreciative of the living treasure he had right under his nose? It was pretty obvious the dumbass had no clue as to what his kind of neglect was doing to the relationship!

Or maybe he didn't care. Maybe he had someone else on the side.

That thought led Dante to slam the door to the dishwasher and jab at its control panel settings with unwarranted force.

If that's the deal, if he's been cheating on her, I'll find him an' kick his sorry ass all the way back to Japan! The notion put a ferocious smile on his face, which faded as soon as something else occurred to him. Really, how can I kick th' guy's ass for cheatin' if I'm goin' after Miaka behind his back? I'm no better than he is...

A muscle tightened the back of his neck with a sharp twinge of pain. Dante lifted a hand to rub the cramp away, knowing it was a manifestation of bottled up emotions- in this case, seething frustration and jealousy.

He hated the fact that he didn't have prior claim on Miaka's affections, and that they were seeing each other right now on the sly. He hated that she shared a long history and the pleasures of her body with her boyfriend. He hated the fact those things made the man a formidable and possibly unbeatable rival. Wouldn't it be better to walk away before he got too deeply involved? No matter how cute, sexy and loveable she was, Miaka was a walking bundle of complications and a potential source of trouble that he didn't need...

Yeah, right! His heart sneered at him. It's already too late. You want her, an' you'd get down on one knee in a minute if ya thought there a chance in hell she'd say yes!

It was true. He already enjoyed taking care of her, and he was thriving on the powerful feelings that filled him whenever she was in his arms. Above all that, he still couldn't shake the feeling that he had known her before this, even though that just wasn't possible. In his twenty nine years of life he had never traveled abroad, and Miaka had only been in the States for six months, so there was no way they could have met. And yet, knowing it wasn't possible didn't do a thing to discourage his feeling that because of her, he was rediscovering a part of his life that he hadn't been aware he was missing.

Was it possible to be in love with someone before you knew they existed?

He had always joked about his mother's staunch belief in reincarnation, but he was starting to wonder if that belief had some serious merit. What else could explain the instant rapport he shared with Miaka, and the familiarity of the feelings he had experienced the moment they had laid eyes on each other? In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he liked the notion that his and Miaka's souls had been destined to meet and make love, over and over again...

God, how he wanted that…to be deep inside Miaka. He had always possessed a healthy libido, but had never had as much trouble controlling it as he did around her. Just the thought of her changing clothes under his roof had caused his pulse to leap like a wolf on the prowl for a mate. And, just like a wolf, he knew damn well he'd be hers for life once she had allowed him to mount her. He tried to suppress the fantasies that idea provoked, but trying not to think about making love to her was like trying to keep the sun from rising in the east. With a small sigh of resignation, he closed his eyes, letting the erotic vision fill his mind; a naked, aroused Miaka spread out on his kitchen table, emitting soft moans of pleasure as he drizzled honey all over her body, and writhing with passion as he slowly licked it off…

"Dante?"

He jerked in surprise, and then felt his face start to burn. Cautiously, he turned his head. "Yeah?"

"Where is your wash- oh, I'm sorry! I startled you!"

The star of his fantasy was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, wearing an inquisitive smile and his robe. Given his body's response to mere thoughts of her, Dante was relieved that the oversized garment made Miaka look more like a slightly rumpled waif instead of the highly desirable woman she was.

Thinking it safe territory, he allowed his gaze to lower to the lapels of the robe. So much for that illusion, he thought ruefully. Even though Miaka had wrapped the material about her, the neckline was cut for a man. Even when pulled tight, it was low enough to reveal the luscious inner curves of her chest, and his arousal was making an instant comeback at the sight. Pressing himself into the counter, he cast around wildly for the extra large dishtowel that was thankfully just within reach.

"It's okay!" He said with forced cheer, as he slowly began to dry his hands. "I was just …er… thinking about some things." Ah yes, that was it! Abstract thinking got him into this predicament, and linear thinking would get him out. His brain rose to the challenge, silently shouting out questions that would hopefully distract him. What's the capital of Uzbekistan? What's the name of the largest lake in Africa? Who invented the toilet? Why is root beer called that when there's no beer in it? What does the 'J' in Homer J. Simpson stand for? Why do people drive in a parkway, and park in a driveway?

"They must have been really good thoughts, then." Miaka said.

Her voice held amusement, and a tinge of something else that completely threw him off his plan.Innocent until proven guilty. Nothing will happen if she doesn't see it. He could feel her gaze upon him and did his best to ignore its effect on his heart rate. "Why do ya say that?"

"Because you were staring off into space and grinning like a fox in a house filled with chickens."

Shit, she's got me. I'm going to have to own up. "All right, all right, I was daydreamin'! Ya happy now?" Folding the dish towel, he began wiping down the countertop, buying time for his erection to subside enough to go unnoticed.

" Daydreaming?" Miaka echoed, sounding greatly surprised. "You were actually daydreaming?"

HA! The best defense is a good offense! Dante thought, relieved. She wasn't expecting that!

"I know it's kinda hard to believe." He acknowledged, finally able to toss aside the towel as he turned to face his inquisitor. "But I was. Just like you."

_________________________________________________________________ _______

Just like me?

Miaka could feel ripples of excitement teasing her insides as Dante leaned his backside against the edge of the counter. Arms crossed, he regarded her with laughing eyes and a very familiar half smile. The pose emphasized his chest and biceps and caused the cropped t-shirt he wore to ride up, exposing the flat, muscled abdomen that had flexed so delightfully beneath the caress of her hand.

It was amazing and a more than a little shocking that a mere glimpse of that flesh could get her hot and bothered.

"Was it a nice one?" She asked on impulse.

There was a simmering silence. Dante's smirk had been replaced by a look that made her very aware that she was half naked under his robe. In an involuntary movement, her hands slid to the sash, making sure that the knot she had tied was still intact and secure. His gaze followed the gesture, then met hers once more.

"I'll be more than happy to tell ya about it after I take care of your laundry." He drawled.

The gleam in his eyes was definitely predatory as he pushed himself away from the sink and walked towards her. His gait was slow and deliberate, almost wolf-like, and she felt her mouth going dry with excitement at his approach.

When he stopped, he was directly in front of her, standing so close that she had to tilt her head way back to meet his gaze. It occurred to her suddenly that Dante was taller than she had remembered, and that even if she stood on tip toe, she wouldn't be able to kiss him unless he lowered his head to accommodate her. Her body tingled at the extremely pleasant thought as he reached out to tug the t-shirt away from her unresisting fingers.

"You don't have to do that." She protested weakly, as he turned the garment inside out and then tossed it over one broad shoulder.

His smile was teasing. "Are ya talkin' about washin' the t-shirt, or tellin' ya what I was thinkin'?"

She let out a breathy giggle. "Both, I guess."

"You should know that I don't do anythin' I don't feel like doin', Miaka." Dante's expression grew taut with intent as he spoke. "An' right now, I'm damn sure I wanna do this..."

Desire unfurled within her as he stroked back the curtain of hair covering her cheek, tucking it gently behind her ear.

"Here's one thing I was dreamin' about…"

She sucked in a breath as he lowered his head and began to nuzzle the sensitive hollow below her ear lobe with his lips.

"And here's another one..." he whispered, his breath hot against her skin.

Her eyelashes lowered. As his mouth trailed down and then up along the curve of her neck, her lips parted and her breathing grew harsh. When he reached her ear and traced the outer rim with his tongue tip, her fingers curled into her palms. At the gentle nip of a fang upon her ear lobe, heat exploded in her belly. With a frantic moan, she turned her head, seeking a kiss that never came.

"That's enough for now." Dante said hoarsely.

Her eyelids flew open and she stared at him, unable to hide her frustration or the intense need his touch had provoked.

"I thought I told ya not to look at me like that!" He growled.

She looked away. "You did...but I can't help it."

He reached out to brush his knuckles across her cheek in a rough caress. "You are so goddamned beautiful." The curse sounded reverent rather than profane.

"Th-thank you." She stammered, still avoiding his eyes. It was good he had been able to put a stop to things, because she couldn't have done it to save her life. Dante was a craving that she couldn't control. Since she'd met him, she could think of nothing else. When he touched her, all that mattered was having his hands and his mouth on her body.

Alarmed by the thought, she took a step back from temptation, only to have her backside bump into the doorframe. Embarrassed, she risked a glance at Dante, wondering why he had remained silent. To her surprise, he was staring at her pink polished toenails, apparently too transfixed by the sight of them to tease her for her clumsiness.

"I-I hope you don't mind that I'm barefoot! My socks were wet, and I don't have any slippers with me." She explained awkwardly.

Dante looked up. "I have no problem whatsoever with havin' your sexy, bare little feet pitty-pattin' around my house."

"Thank you." She murmured. The very masculine appreciation shining in his eyes made her glad she had taken the extra time to put on the polish before leaving the apartment. "Thanks for taking care of my mess, too."

"It's the least I could do, seein' that it was mostly my doing. " A small smile played around his lips. "Why don't ya go on into the livin' room and make yourself comfortable? I'll only be a couple of minutes."

As soon as he left, Miaka slumped back against the doorframe and tried to compose herself. Her knees were wobbly and weak, due to the lingering effect of Dante's touch and the intoxicating realization that he had been daydreaming about her in that way. Slowly, a roguish smile tipped up the corners of her mouth as she wondered if the fantasy had anything to do with them being in a kitchen, and what his reaction might have been if he'd known what she'd been imagining while she was making him dinner! Her smile faded at recalling the longing that fantasy had provoked. It was an exhilarating yet terrifying feeling to want someone this badly. A dangerous one too, considering that the shame and guilt she should have felt in wanting to be with someone other than Taka had yet to manifest themselves...

The reminder had her straightening out of her slump. It would be wrong and unfair of her to enter into that kind of a relationship with Dante until she had resolved things with Taka. No matter what happened or what was said, she would have to be strong.

Quickly untying the robe's sash, she overlapped the lapels across her chest and then retied the knot, yanking it tight in a defensive gesture against the passion thrumming within her core. It was time to move to safer ground; hopefully a change of venue would keep her from giving in the demands of her overactive libido.

Following Dante's suggestion, she headed for the spacious living area that she had passed earlier with barely a glance. There were two steps down into the sunken room, which she carefully negotiated before pausing to survey the room. It was lovely. She admired everything; the vaulted ceiling, the southwestern style paintings on the wall, the comfortable looking leather furniture, the hardwood floor, and numerous framed drawings done in crayon, obviously rendered by a child's hands. A small, pleased smile came to her lips at that discovery, as she realized she was getting a revealing glimpse of Dante's personal life.

Gliding to one side of the room, she eyed the built in, floor-to-ceiling oak bookshelves that ran almost the entire length of the wall. A section in the middle was customized for a big screen television and complete stereo set-up, and another small section contained a couple of group photographs of uniformed cops. The vast majority of shelf space, however, was devoted to all kinds of books. Her hand rose to trail along the spines as she read them, amazed at the diversity of subject matter they displayed, ranging from poetry to criminal justice and history to mythology, as well as best selling fiction of all kinds.

A collection of compact disks also resided on half of one long shelf, and Miaka noticed immediately that Dante's taste in music was as eclectic as his taste in books. The discovery pleased her; she had always strongly suspected that beneath Tasuki's brash exterior lurked a sharp intellect and poetic soul that would have appeared sooner or later if given the right encouragement. The huge selections of music and literature Dante had housed on his shelves good as confirmed her theory.

Moving along, she stopped in the corner for a close up view of the huge gas fireplace framed by rough hewn stones, and continued on to the huge picture window. A cool breeze told her the side panels were open, and she could tell the temperature outside was dropping, so she didn't linger, only pausing long enough to stare admiringly out at the shadow darkened Rocky Mountains before going to find a place to sit down.

She found herself immediately drawn to the sofa and sighed in contentment as she sank into the soft cushions, finding it even more comfortable than the one she'd sat on at the coffee house. Leaning back, she ran a lazy gaze over the confusing assortment of remote controls lined up on the coffee table in front of her, and grinned as she made a mental note to buy a universal remote for him at the first excuse she could find for giving Dante a gift.

Then she let herself sink more deeply into the cushions, while closing her eyes in an attempt to relax.

_________________________________________________________________ _______

Dante paused before descending the steps to the living room, taking a moment to let his gaze travel over the woman who in one short day had managed to turn his life upside down. His position allowed him to observe her without being seen, and he intended to take full advantage of it.

Pleasure filled him as he saw that she was curled up on one end of his old couch, feet tucked underneath her, looking as comfortable as could be. He took in the delicate line of her profile- lingering on the full curves of her lips- then tensed when his eyes lowered to her décolletage. Shit, they're just about to fall out of that thing! Not like I'd mind, but it'd be embarrassin' for her!

With an effort he tore his eyes away from the sight and thumped back into the kitchen for the wine glasses that he had forgotten on the kitchen table. Hopefully if he made enough noise, she'd awaken and change position when he was gone.

In spite of the thudding elephant steps he took to the kitchen and back, she hadn't moved when he returned. With a sigh of resignation, he walked to the couch and gently nudged her leg with his to get her attention. As turned on as he was by her state of undress, he still couldn't help but laugh when her eyes flew open in alarm.

"Don't get up," he assured her warmly. "It's just me."

Miaka blinked and smiled, then took the wine glass he held out and moved over to make room for him. Dante sat down next to her and heaved a mental sigh of relief as he saw her adjusting the robe so that it fully covered her chest. "So…how are ya likin' my sofa?"

Her smile grew to a grin. "Very much! It's extremely comfortable." She tucked a throw pillow under her elbow and sinking even farther down into the soft cushions. "Even more so than the one at Brew You!"

His grin was ear to ear. "Why thank you kindly, ma'am. That's high praise indeed!" Ha! Can't wait to tell Bennett she likes my couch better'n his! Wait-better not! He'd go out and find a better one than mine! "I think it's best if we don't tell Craig ya said that though." He added quickly. "He'd be real disappointed."

"All r-right." She agreed. "I w-w-won't."

Dante frowned in concern as she crossed her arms inside the robe's voluminous sleeves. Despite its plush thickness, she was shivering. "You're cold, aren't ya?"

She nodded, looking somewhat sheepish. "A little. You would think I would have adjusted to the rapid temperature drops at night by now."

Dante set his glass down and stood up. "No problem! I'll just close the windows and then get a fire goin'."

He suited his actions to his words as he spoke, moving over to the side windows to slide them shut, and then walking over to twist the knob next to the fireplace to turn on the gas fire. The realistic looking birch logs behind the glass doors flickered to life, suffusing the room with a subtle but pleasant glow. Miaka took another sip of her wine and heaved a blissful sigh as warmth began to encompass her. "Thank you, Dante. That's a lovely fireplace."

"I wish it was a real one, but gas is cleaner and more convenient," he replied, picking up his wine glass and re-joining her on the couch.

"Any kind of fireplace is fine with me." She responded, smiling contentedly. "And I'm definitely in love with your living room! It's beautiful and comfortable- much more so than mine!" Her smile held a hint of wistfulness as she confided, "my apartment came fully furnished, but I don't think the decorator put much thought into the tenant's comfort when they were choosing some of the furniture."

"That's too bad." Dante murmured politely, watching her looking around the room once more. When she finally turned her gaze back to him, he could see the questions in her eyes, questions that he found he was surprisingly willing to answer as soon as she asked them.

That feeling was definitely a first for him.

"It's kind of funny," Miaka mused, "that just when I think I have Dante-kun all figured out, I discover something new."

"And just what do ya think you've discovered?" He asked, challenging her with his smile.

"Well..." Miaka ticked off the points on her fingers. "...the variety and amount of books you have shows me that you're an insatiable reader with a well developed intellect, the framed photos and children's drawings reveal a sentimental streak a mile wide, the CD's tell me you love all kinds of music, and the stunning view outside your window along with your incredibly comfortable couch and impressively stocked entertainment center tells me that you like to spend a lot of time relaxing at home." She laughed softly at his dumbfounded expression. "How am I doing so far?"

"Dead right on all counts," he admitted. "But do me a favor and keep it quiet, okay? If the guys at the station ever find out that I'm actually a sentimental, egg-headed homebody instead of the outrageous, fun-lovin' party animal they think I am now, I'll never hear the end of it!"

"They won't be hearing anything from me! I can keep a secret."

He smiled as she made criss-crossing motions over her heart. "Thanks, Miaka. It's sorta hard to explain, but in my line of work it's real important to be able to keep your private life…well, private."

"I can understand that feeling!" She told him earnestly. "Serving the public on a daily basis can be really rewarding, means that there's always going to be someone letting you know when you screw up… and having to accept that most of the time you won't hear a word of praise or thanks when you've pleased them." She sighed. "I think it's vital to have someplace you can call a sanctuary. It's easy to get burned out on life if you don't have a place all your own to relax and be happy."

"Well I'll be damned," Dante said, grinning from ear to ear. "No one else I've talked to that wasn't a cop has ever been able to figure that out!"

Gratified by the warmth of his approval, Miaka beamed. "Thank you, but I think I should add that the clientele at the Phoenix Grill in no way compares to the tough customers you get!" She replied, enjoying another thrill of pleasure as he laughed aloud.

"Ya know, law enforcement is a very fulfilling career on a lotta levels ….but it is a damn thankless task." He told her, then paused a moment to take another sip of wine. "You learn real quick to expect abuse from the taxpayers because they're payin' your wages, and he politicians, because they make the laws, and the powers at city hall, because losin' your temper even once means your career could be down the toilet. And let me tell ya, Miaka, it can get pretty damn frustratin' at times tryin' to do my job when I know the perpetrator's lawyer will find some loophole to circumvent the law we're trying to enforce."

"It must get very discouraging." She sympathized.

"It could, if I let it," Dante agreed. "My daddy used t'tell me that part of bein' a good cop is findin' a way not to get burned out on the job. I try to follow the example he set by keepin' my personal life separate from work-which means no after hours socializin' with fellow officers." He gave her an embarrassed little half smile. "If the guys knew I'm at home most of the time they'd start droppin' by regularly for a game of poker an' a few beers, and I'd be too damn nice t'throw them out. This way, at least the ones that are married or have steady girlfriends stay far away from the singles places they think I frequent."

She shifted position, stretching her legs out in front of her. "So what about the women?" She asked.

Her host didn't answer right away, as he was busy watching her adjusting his robe to cover herself. "What women?"

"I assume your precinct has single female officers that like to go out?"

Dante's face reddened. "Yeah, there's a few." He admitted. "And the single ones make it a point not to date coworkers for the exact same reasons I won't."

"It would be like never leaving work?" Miaka guessed.

"Exactly!" He grimaced. "I know damn well we'll always end up talking shop. Even if we didn't, there's the chance that things could go bad with the relationship, and you would still have to try to work together and get along. You never know when someone will have to be watchin' your back when you're out on a call." He paused to take a swallow of wine. "Personal conflict in the workplace can be pretty dangerous at a time like that."

"I can imagine," Miaka replied solemnly. "And I think it's admirable that you don't let the stress and demands of your job consume you. I just wish that my-"

She awkwardly broke off the thought, not wanting to spoil the easy camaraderie between them by bringing up complaints about Taka's obsessive work habits. Unfortunately, it appeared that Dante wasn't about to let her off the hook.

"You just wish that-what?" He prompted.

She shifted uneasily under his expectant gaze. "Um, n-never mind. I, uh, forgot what I was going to say."

Dante leaned forward to set his wine glass down on the solid oak coffee table and then turned to her with an uncompromising stare. "That's bullshit." He stated calmly. "It's okay to be honest with me, Miaka. You were going to say that you wish your boyfriend would put ya before his job once in a while, weren't ya?"

"Yes, but it isn't right to complain when I'm the one at fault."

He slid a bit closer to her. "May I ask why you think that?"

"I created the problem by moving here. If I'd stayed away, things would have been happier."

Dante frowned. "I don't understand."

Miaka sighed. "I was very young when we met and fell in love." She explained. "He was seventeen, and I was fifteen, and we fought through an awful lot just to be together. Each time we were forced apart, we fought to find each other again...which in my mind meant that it was perfect love." Her smile was brief and tight. "Then I got older and discovered that the life we had together was no longer what I had imagined it to be. As my sensei used to say, 'you can't live on dreams alone.'"

A glance at Dante showed that her host was frowning. "That's true to a point." He stated, after a few moments of silence. "But ya shouldn't have to give up on them either!"

"I agree." She gave a sad smile. "Since my boyfriend grew up in what came close to poverty, his dream has always been of attaining financial stability. When the opportunity came to leave Japan to train for a corporate position with a lot of earning potential, he couldn't turn it down. He assured me that he was only going to be away for a few months. I was all right for a long time, but I'm ashamed to say that I made a fuss when it got to be well over a year without a visit or any sign that he was close to being transferred back to Japan. I didn't care about having money, I just wanted to see him!"

"That's understandable." Dante said briefly.

"And that's when he sent me the local job postings so that I could apply for a position here." She continued. "I knew he wouldn't have a whole lot of time to spend with me until he got farther up in the company. But at least I was within driving distance of him, so I foolishly thought that I would be seeing him almost every day, if only for the dinner hour." She shrugged. "As it turns out, I'm lucky if I see him more than two hours straight in a week, unless there's a company event."

She glanced at Dante, who made a noise as if he might say something. However, he simply shook his head and motioned for her to continue.

"I was very upset and discouraged, but after I settled in and made some friends I didn't mind not seeing him so much." She went on, after another swallow of wine. "Being in a new setting has allowed me to see him in a different light. He's become obsessed with climbing the corporate ladder, and he's taken on some values I find superficial and wrong. I never recognized those traits in him before, but maybe I was just too stubborn to realize..." Turning away from Dante's compassionate gaze, she stared unseeingly at the wall. "I am so sorry. We were having such a nice conversation earlier, and then I go and spoil it-"

She broke off, going rigid with shock as strong arms suddenly wrapped around her from behind.

"Relax! I ain't gonna bite!" Dante's voice was close to her ear as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

"Sorry…you j-just startled me."

"Not used to bein' hugged, hmm?"

"No, " she replied truthfully. Of course there was no way to explain to Dante that the last time he had embraced her in this way it had ended with almost tragic consequences. Nor did she even want to explain it. That was then, and this was now, she reminded herself firmly. This was Dante Tager that held her, not a Hikou- influenced Tasuki, and his embrace was driven by nothing but tenderness and concern.

Gods, it felt so good to be held! Why couldn't she just relax and enjoy it? Why did she have to keep bringing up the past?

As if he could sense her inner turmoil, Dante said suddenly, "You've gotten all tense and stressed out! How about if I give ya a neck massage?"

She started to turn her head to look at him, but thought better of it when his lips made incidental contact with the hollow of her cheek. "That's an awfully nice idea, but I can't ask you to do that."

"Yes you can."

She could feel him smile. "Thank you, but it's not necessary-"

Dante made a derisive noise. "Hell's Bells, woman! Your head is pulled so far into your shoulders I coulda mistook ya for a turtle!"

"That's very charming." She shot back. "I bet you have women eating out of your hand with lines like that!"

"No- an' so that's why it's best if I let my hands do the talkin'!" Dante retorted laughingly, then gave her a little squeeze as she made to pull away from him. "I'm only jokin'! All my experience comes from helpin' my ma and my grandmother get rid of their tension headaches. Ma must have told me a million times over the years that a nice, relaxin' massage is best for pain caused by stress."

Though mollified by the explanation, she wasn't ready to give in to temptation just yet. "I don't like you feeling sorry for me-"

"That's the last thing I'm feelin', dammit!" He interrupted, losing patience with her at last. "Okay, look, I think cooking an' bending over an' choppin' things all day long has to be hell on your neck and shoulder muscles. Is it?"

"Yes." She admitted, feeling her resistance rapidly weakening. "It can be very hard on them. But-"

"Why can't you just hush and allow me to have the pleasure of doin' something nice for ya?" Dante asked, as he rubbed his cheek against her hair. "C'mon. Whaddaya say?"

Miaka drew her bottom lip between her teeth as she considered the matter. Out of all her seishi, Tasuki had always been the one who had fiercely defended her feelings as well as her physical well being. He seemed to take it as a personal affront whenever Tamahome did anything to upset her, and had always tried to make it up to her in his own unorthodox way. Now Dante was trying to do the same, to please her in his own way…and the gods help her, she wanted him to, even if it meant going down a road she shouldn't be taking!

She sighed, and then threw caution into the fire. "I say that a massage sounds wonderful and that it would be ungracious of me to refuse."

He responded with a hug of approval. "Thatta girl! No more worries, y'hear? I promise you'll be in the best of hands."

Miaka caught his mischievous look out of the corner of her eye and simply nodded, thinking it was safer not to reply.

Grinning at her prim expression, Dante released her to lean forward and push the coffee table farther from the sofa, and then grabbed a large throw pillow from the opposide end.

"It'll be easier on my arms if you sit below me for this." He explained, noticing her wary glance as he placed it on the floor between his feet. "And this way I can get the proper amount of pressure."

"Oh...okay." She set down her glass on the end table next to her, and then slipped from the couch to sit indian-style on the plump cushion. As Dante shifted into position, she tried not to think about the muscular thighs and calves that were now pressing into her sides. "Am I in the right spot?"

"Back up a little bit more…okay, that's fine."

She shivered in reaction as large hands gently gathered up her hair and draped it so that the thick mass fell entirely over her left shoulder.

"Um…there's one more thing." He said, sounding hesitant. "Please don't take this the wrong way... but you're gonna have to loosen things up a bit." He tugged lightly at the collar of the robe which was drawn tightly around her, demonstrating that access to her neck was almost impossible. "See?"

"Yes, all right." Making sure to hold the neckline closed across her chest, she pushed and pulled at the neck and opening of the robe until it draped around her upper arms, displaying her shoulders to advantage and confirming the fact that she wore no bra.

There was a long, heart pounding pause. Miaka subconsciously held her breath until she heard the sound of cracking knuckles.

"Okay, tip your head forward and try t' loosen up your shoulders." Dante instructed.

As soon as she had complied with his wishes, he positioned his hands on the nape of her neck. Miaka felt herself tensing, and immediately chastised herself for doing so. This the same man she had already let kiss the living daylights out of her after just having met him, so what was the point in worrying about letting him give her an innocent neck massage?

Dante impatiently squeezed her sides with his legs. "I said to relax!" He barked, in what she had come to think of as his 'macho cop voice'.

The authoritative tone succeeded where his kindness had not. Miaka obeyed the command, and then closed her eyes in bliss as lean, strong fingers began to rhythmically knead the tension filled muscles at the base of her skull.

_________________________________________________________________ ______

A thick silence fell as Dante massaged Miaka's soft, creamy flesh and the tense muscles beneath it.

You can do this! He told himself, as his fingers moved. Just be happy that ya got permission to touch her. It'll scare her off if you come on any stronger.

As his fingers stroked the corded sides of her neck, he closed his eyes, blocking out the tempting sight of the robe that was sliding further and further down on her chest. He opened them again after making the discovery that not only didn't it help to take his mind off what she looked like, but that a lack of visual stimulation greatly sharpened his other four senses. He was already far too conscious of her intoxicating floral scent, the fluttering of her pulse under his fingertips, her sinfully soft skin, and the pleasured sounds she made as a particularly large knot was undone- and he sure as hell didn't need to add to the impact they were having, thank you very much!

He hung his head, thoroughly digusted by his lack of self-discipline. You can do this. She trusts you- don't blow it by actin' like a wolf on the make. The self-scolding almost worked. Slowly, he began to recoup his composure...only to lose it again the instant Miaka tipped her head to one side and a swatch of her hair swept across the inside of his left thigh.

He wanted to cuss. He wanted to rant. He wanted to throw her down on the floor and be done with it. His good intentions were slipping away just like the goddamned robe she wore. He glared at the back of the offending garment. What the hell had he been thinking? Why hadn't he given her one of his T-shirts or a sweatshirt?

Because you were hoping this would happen, ya moron!

It had been insane to think he could ever touch her this way without wanting more; the hard evidence of that had risen between his parted thighs. The overwhelming need he had to make her happy had overruled his common sense, and now he would have to grit his teeth and take the consequences of that decision like a man. It was just too soon. She still had another boyfriend in the picture. He repeated that admonition like a mantra as his fingers tenderly massaged the spot where her neck met her shoulders.

Miaka moaned softly. "Ohhh Daaannn…tayyyy…there…ahhh...feels good…"

The suggestiveness of the situation made him want to laugh and cry at the same time. She's not that naïve, is she? She's got t'have some idea of what she's doin' to me! Ironically, his irritation helped him keep his other emotions under control as his fingers left the base of her neck to run over the tops of her deltoids, which were strung as tight as overstretched rubber bands. His fingers unerringly picked out the spots where balls of tension had formed and began to work at them.

"Owie!" Miaka exclaimed, as his thumbs bore down strongly on a tender spot.

Chagrined, Dante quickly eased up on the pressure he was applying.

"Sorry." He said meekly. "Is this better?"

"Ohhh yes…" She was purring again. "You definitely have good hands."

She lifted a hand to absently pat his knee, and then left it there. He wanted to chew on his knuckles, but settled for biting his tongue.

"Thanks," he said, tersely.

Silence fell once more. Dante concentrated on working one shoulder and then the other, and then moved to the outside curves, idly taking note of how her head and her body were moving in tandem with the motion of his hands. It was almost like watching a puppet controlled by its master, and he couldn't help feeling a surge of primal satisfaction as he realized that it meant Miaka had completely surrendered to his touch.

After a few more moments she shifted her bottom to get more comfortable on the pillow. Instant heat shot through him when the movement caused the neckline of the robe to slip open a little bit more. She seemed not to be aware of it; her head had tipped to one side, as if she had fallen into a light doze. Only the slight catches in her breathing as he worked out the sore spots told him she was still conscious. Torn between chivalry and desire, he silently debated on what course of action he should take. Should he risk pulling it up himself? Or should he let her know that it was coming undone?

A few seconds later the decision was taken out of his hands as he watched her slowly lean back until her head was resting on one of his thighs. She looked lazily up at him through half open eyelids while his own gaze fixated on the curves of her mouth, so tantalizingly close to his sex.

"Thank you so much." She murmured drowsily. "That was good. All of the tension has gone."

He cleared his throat. "You're welcome."

After a few seconds of silence, Miaka made a half-hearted attempt to get up on the couch, waving off his offer of help with a smile. Too late, Dante realized that her heel was caught up in the hem of the robe, but before he could warn her, she had already overbalanced and instinctively caught herself by putting a hand on the floor. Unfortunately, the hand she used to catch herself was also the hand that had been holding the front of the accursed thing shut.

Both of them froze as the neckline was yanked to the side, exposing one perfect breast and its stiffened, rose-pink epicenter to the glowing rays of the sunset streaming in from the picture window.

After one shell-shocked moment of gaping, Dante quickly looked away, but those precious few seconds were enough to etch an eternal imprint on his memory cells. He drew in a shaky breath, mildly surprised that he was still conscious since he was quite sure that all the blood had just drained out of his head. Even without looking at Miaka he knew that she was blushing, but he refused to satisfy his curiosity as to how far down that blush was extending.

"Don't worry, I didn't see anythin'!" He fibbed gallantly.

He sensed Miaka had risen, but to his surprise she didn't turn away. A furtive, sidelong glance told him she had dropped to her knees on the pillow between his feet and that she hadn't covered herself, a sight which made him painfully aware that he should have had the sense to cover his groin. He stared off into space with mortified resignation, knowing that she was getting a real eyeful and that he couldn't do a damn thing to hide it.

Long, silent seconds ticked by as she took in his condition and he studiously avoided her eyes.

"Dante, look at me."

She issued the command in a clear, sure voice. He jerked and sucked in a breath as he felt her hands come to rest on the tops of his thighs, but obeyed her request, his body tensed with the restraint he was imposing upon himself. When her gaze deliberately lowered to the rising bulge between his legs, however, he could stand it no longer.

"Dammit, Miaka, don't do this to me! I'm havin' a hard enough time as it is!"

"I can see that." She murmured, staring at the bulge with open fascination. "So tell me, Officer… is that a nightstick you're packing, or are you just happy to see me?"

"That's not funny!" He ground out, as his gaze strayed to her chest and then quickly jerked back up to her face.

"I didn't mean it to be." She said quietly, reaching out to grasp one of his clenched fists. A tremor of excitement ran through him as she gently turned it palm up, and then bent her head to nuzzle the inside of his wrist with her lips. As she did so, her glossy auburn hair spilled forward, covering their joined hands. His fingers slowly uncurled under the silken onslaught.

"Miaka-"

The protest he was about to voice was wiped from his mind as she brought his hand to her exposed breast.

"Touch me." She exhorted, arching her back to press herself into his palm. "Hold me."

His fingers were already curling around the sweet curve of flesh as he asked, "Are…are ya sure?"

She nodded and regarded him with eyes that glistened with moisture and memories. "I've made the mistake of not following my instincts before, and every single time I've lived to regret it."

"And what are those instincts tellin' you now?" He asked, holding her gaze.

She touched his cheek and then tenderly brushed back his bangs, which seemed to spark to flaming life in the fading rays of the sun.

"That my being here is meant to be." She whispered.

He blew out a breath. "Mine are sayin' that too."

The look he was given precluded any answer. He released his hold on her breast to curl the arm about her and haul her up across his lap. Once she was situated to his liking, he wiped away the fat teardrops that hovered on her lower lashes with tender but unsteady fingers. With this woman, all of the protectiveness he possessed was coming to the fore. He'd always hated seeing her look sad...

"My little Miaka-baka," he murmured. "There's no need to cry. I'm with ya now."

Her eyes went wide. "What did you just-"

His hungry mouth obliterated the rest of the question.

_________________________________________________________________ _______

Miaka completely lost her train of thought as Dante entered her mouth with a swift, hard thrust of his tongue. His free hand caressed her from shoulder to hip, his tongue moving in rhythmic, sensuous strokes that sent wave after wave of heat rocketing through her body. She angled her head to deepen the passionate contact, as her tongue followed the rhythm, pushing and sliding against his. Her hands glided up his chest to the tops of his shoulders, then to the sides of his neck.

When she began to caress the sensitive hollows behind his ears with the pads of her thumbs, Dante broke the kiss with a soft growl. The muscles in the arm that held her tightened, lifting her shoulders off his lap as his other hand ran up and over the curve of her hip. She arched under the caress like a feline being stroked where it felt best, tipping her head back to expose the entire length of her throat to his hot, searching mouth. He bent his head to nibble and nip at the tender skin with his fangs, then nuzzled it with open lips and the tip of his tongue. The contrasting sensations caused her body to writhe in silent invitation.

After a minute or two Dante raised his head, breathing hard.

"Say it, Miaka! Say that ya want me, dammit!"

"I … I want you… " Her fingers found his braid and played with it. "Oh god…you have no idea how much…"

Amber-colored irises shone with savage triumph. "Then what should I do?"

She looked up at him with aroused, frantic eyes, her breath coming in short pants. "Keep touching me…"

Their gazes locked. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders as he palmed her breast, then used his fingertips to lightly trace its circumference, moving toward its center in gradually diminishing circles. She gasped when his fingers brushed over her nipple, and moaned when he began tugging and rolling it gently between the pads of his forefinger and thumb.

"Ahh... that's good…" Her hips moved in tandem with his fingers, as the liquid heat between her legs rose to volcanic proportions. When she was suddenly released, she whimpered a broken plea in her native tongue, and then in his. "P-Please...don't stop..."

"Trust me, this is gonna feel even better." Dante assured her thickly, as he put his other arm around her and pulled her chest closer to his waiting mouth.

His fiery head bent degree by agonizing degree until his hot breath caressed her skin. Miaka arched her back, pushing herself towards the only thing that could give her relief. When his lips engulfed the hardened tip of her breast, her hands went to his head, fingers curling into his scalp, holding him in place as he suckled gently. After a few moments, he drew her nipple between his teeth and bathed it with the wet warmth of his tongue, laving her thoroughly before flicking over it in rapid, back and forth motions. She cried out at the sensation, her arousal heightened by the feel of a rock-hard erection pressing into her bottom. Instinctively, she pushed and rubbed her buttocks against it; in return, Dante's hips lunged upwards as he drew her more deeply into his mouth, a response that was intensely gratifying to them both.

Releasing her grasp on his hair, Miaka grabbed for his t-shirt, yanking it up as far as it could go without them having to break contact. As an overwhelming need to please him surged within her, she ran greedy palms over the arched, muscled warmth of his back, then switched to lightly raking her fingernails over his shoulder blades. Dante released her nipple with a moan as the sensation held him in temporary stasis. Intrigued by his response, she switched to fingertips, and slowly repeated the gesture. He gasped and trembled with arousal, reactions which both thrilled and encouraged her to be bold.

Slowly, teasingly, one of her hands slid around to his abdomen, which quivered under her exploratory caress. She let it linger there just for a moment, then moved it in an unerring path up to his chest. She ran her thumb across the soft bump of his nipple, then smiled in satisfaction as it rose and grew hard as a pebble. A quick glance up told her that her partner was greatly enjoying her touch; his eyes were closed, a hard flush stained his cheeks, and his breath came in pants from partially open lips. Feeling deliciously naughty and wanton, she pinched his nipple, gently rolling it between her thumb and forefinger, as he had done to her.

The effect on Dante was instantaneous. Before she knew what was happening, he had tipped her onto the sofa, whipped his shirt off, and straddled her body.

"I'm only gonna ask ya once more, Miaka!" He rasped, looking down at her with smoldering eyes. "Are ya absolutely sure ya wanna go through with this?"

Sculpted pectorals rose and fell with his rapid breathing, barely a foot above her exposed flesh. His arms and hands were planted on either side of her head, keeping the bulk of his weight off her body. His face was flushed with passion and taut with the restraint he was imposing upon it.

He was beautiful. So beautiful that it made her heart ache.

Her answer was to wrap her arms around his waist and pull him down on top of her.

Dante capitulated to the silent demand with a throaty groan. Lowering his mouth to hers, he slid his pelvis between her parted thighs with a seductive thrust and grind that she returned in force, only to pull away again to stare down at her with a dark and dangerous expression.

"I'm gonna make ya forget that guy." He stated hotly, pausing to administer a toe curling kiss before lifting his head once more. "Once I'm inside ya, you're mine!" His eyes blazed at her from beneath a curtain of fiery bangs.

Mesmorized by his intensity, Miaka stared up at him. Lying beneath Dante like this, hearing his passionately spoken words, seeing the bare chest and the flush of arousal slashing across his cheeks... was like going back and reliving the past. His language was different...but the voice and the intent were the same.

This was Tasuki! She was going to make love with Tasuki!

Her hips slowed their movements, then stopped moving altogether.

Oh Suzaku, not now...not like this! When he has no idea...I'd be no better than Hikou!

Though she was trying her hardest to suppress the memories, it was to no avail. They continued to flow, steadily eroding her feelings of pleasure. Tasuki wouldn't have wanted it to be this way, he hadn't wanted to come between her and Tamahome! He had been willing to sacrifice himself to avoid that very thing! If it weren't for the spell, he wouldn't have touched her. What if he remembered that someday? Wouldn't he have regrets that history had repeated itself?

By now Dante had sensed her withdrawl, and pushed himself off her by extending his arms.

"What is it? Did I do somethin' ya didn't like? Tell me!" His voice shook with intensity. Dark brows met over eyes that held hurt and confusion.

"It's not you! I love what we've been doing... what you've been doing..." She lowered her eyes to his tattoo and began to trace around it with her finger, taking comfort in how quickly the colors came to life under her touch.

His mouth tightened. "Does it bother you that I look like that Tasuki guy?"

There was no way she could avoid answering. "Well...y-yes." She admitted, blushing deeply.

Amber eyes narrowed; jealousy and a hint of anger simmered in their depths. "Were ya wishing I was him?"

She was stricken. "No!"

"Then what is it? I think I got a right to know!"

Miaka sighed. This situation was so complicated! How could she make him understand? "We weren't lovers." She answered, as steadily as she could. "We were very good friends, that's all."

"I see." Dante said, looking as if he didn't see anything. "If that's all, why did you freak out?"

Oh Dante, I wish I could tell you everything, but it's too soon…you'd never believe me.

"We were friends, but Tasuki tried to be more than that to me, once…" she confessed carefully. "At that point my boyfriend and I were going through some really hard times. To cheer me up, Tasuki took me to a nice restaurant at an inn, then got me drunk, and took me to a suite upstairs and tried to seduce me. I guess he thought if he made me feel good, I'd forget everything bad that was happening to me... but when I started to cry, he stopped. Later on after things cooled down, he apologized to me and I forgave him."

A hysterical giggle almost escaped her as the story left her mouth. Left out a few crucial details, but this is all he needs to know for now. "It's not that I was trying to put you in his place, Dante," she concluded. "It's that just a moment ago you sounded like Tasuki when he tried to...you know...and it brought back memories that are kind of painful..."

As her voice trailed away and her face flamed with embarrassment, Dante spoke.

"I get it now. You don't have to say any more," He said gruffly. "So he tried to force ya into being his, but didn't go through with it because he saw it really wasn't what ya wanted or needed?"

"Yes, that's pretty much it." Miaka replied softly. "Tasuki was always very protective of me, and I think that when he saw I was unhappy, he must have figured I'd be better off with him. Up until then he had never given any sign that he saw me as anything but a friend, and being that he knew I had a steady boyfriend...well, when he came on to me, I was shocked and frightened. It was totally out of character for him to do something like that!"

Dante frowned as he digested the information. Tasuki's situation and his own with Miaka did have some uncomfortable parallels, which would probably explain the overwhelming desire he now had to atone for his double's mistakes.

"How old was he at the time?" He asked, after a brief silence.

"Nineteen."

"Then I'd say it wasn't out of character. At that age guys are dealin' with some powerful urges." Dante said, surprised to find he'd forgotten his anger in warming a bit to the subject. "Most aren't mature enough to control 'em, much less understand how they feel, an' fallin' in love for the first time would just make it worse. It doesn't in any way excuse what the guy did, but it sounds to me that he fell for you, and wanted you to see him as a boyfriend. He couldn't tell you how he felt, so he tried to show his feelings for ya the only way he knew how."

At first I thought you were this weird kid. Then, as time went on, you became a woman to me...

Miaka sucked in a breath and slowly exhaled it. Those words had been forever burned into her memory, thanks to what Hikou had told her about the spell he had put on Tasuki. Though destructive in intent, it was essentially a spell based on truth, a spell that coerced the victim to reveal or act on feelings and emotions they might have otherwise kept hidden. Knowing that, the implications of what Tasuki had said to her that night been too difficult for her to deal with, and she'd chosen to leave them behind for the sake of keeping a friendship and the peace.

Tonight the past had somehow caught up with her. It was literally hovering over her, staring her in the face and speaking to her, giving her redemption even as she grieved for what might have been.

She no longer wanted to escape it. She was older and wiser now, and more than strong enough to face facts.

"Thank you for helping me understand." She said aloud. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back. "The thing is, even if I had understood his feelings then, it wouldn't have mattered. I was committed to someone else, there was no way I could have stayed in...in China, and it wasn't possible for Tasuki to leave. Certain circumstances kept us from staying in touch, and it isn't possible I'd ever be able to go back and find out what happened to him."

"That's harsh." Dante murmured. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you." Miaka replied, warmed and comforted by his sympathy. Though it was very odd telling Dante about Tasuki, doing so was helping her lance a wound she hadn't realized was still festering. "I never dealt honestly with my own feelings, and my biggest regret about that is that I never told Tasuki outright how I felt about him."

"I'm willin' to bet he knew."

"I hope so." Taking a deep breath, Miaka felt desire return in full force. "And I've learned something about myself. Now that I've found you... I won't be making the same mistakes I made before."

Before Dante could say anything, she reached out and cupped a hand over his denim-sheathed gender.

"You're magnificent." She whispered. "I want you so much." Her forefinger traced his outline, following its rapidly swelling contours before boldly palming its breadth. He shuddered violently, then quickly reached down to prise her hand away.

"An' God knows I want you...but if ya want me to last, you can't do that!"

"Oh dear!" She was abashed. "I-I'm sorry!"

"I like it," Dante assured her with a strained smile. "But you would be sorry if I let ya keep goin'!"

Despite her chagrin, an imp of mischief reared its head. "Maybe you should let me be the judge of that!"

Dante looked astounded, and then delighted. "I will, but later." He bent down to press a swift kiss on her lips before rolling off the couch to kneel at her side. "Miaka...this couch is way too cramped for what I got in mind. Will you go down the hall with me?"

She hesitated and then nodded, just as the strident shrilling of a telephone cut into the room.

Dante cursed savagely, and buried his face in the curve between her neck and her shoulder. "Shit! I forgot to turn on the answering machine!"

Miaka felt a sharp prickle of conscience. He was a policeman. What if whomever was calling needed his help? “You better pick up…”

"Ignore it! They'll call back!" He ordered, as he began to nuzzle and nip at her soft skin in a blatant attempt at distraction. It didn't work.

"I think you should answer." She admonished, as she pushed him away. "It might be an emergency!"

"Or it could be telesales." He argued hopefully.

She raised her eyebrows. "Do you feel lucky?"

"Depends on what kind you're talkin' about."

As Dante eyed her hungrily from head to toe, Miaka drew in a shaky breath and pointed. "You. Kitchen. Now."

With a mumbled curse, her host reluctantly pushed himself to his feet and stood pouting down at her while she closed and retied her robe. Miaka grinned at his put-out expression as she was pulled her to her feet, silently reveling in the knowledge that Dante had made her his top priority.

"I'm not going anywhere," she assured him warmly. "If it turns out to be an emergency, I'll take a rain check until you get back."

"A rain check on what?" Dante asked, pretending confusion.

She smirked. "The sooner you take care of that call, the sooner you'll find out."

His fanged grin was wide and wicked as she literally pushed him out into the hall and then marched him down to the kitchen where the phone was still trilling impatiently. Once there, Dante picked up the receiver, barked, "This is Tager, hold on a sec!" and then covered the mouthpiece with his other hand. "How about a lil' sneak preview to tide me over?" He pleaded, giving her his best woebegone look.

As her gaze roved over his naked torso, Miaka's expression made it clear that she was picturing herself kissing and caressing every inch of it. When her eyes finally met his, she gave him a smile that was nothing short of pure sass.

"Patience is a virtue," she teased softly. "I'll be waiting for you, Dante…"

He was about to explode, and she hadn't even touched him. "You're killin' me!"

"You look quite healthy to me!" She countered, giving him another sultry look.

"Come here, woman!"

He made a quick grab for her. Miaka danced just out of his reach, then tormented him with a shy but inviting, over-the-shoulder smile before padding out of the room.

After she had gone, Dante took a couple of deep, somewhat calming breaths before lifting the receiver to his mouth. He didn't want to sound too pissed off at the caller, even though he was determined to make short work of the call.

_________________________________________________________________ _______

"Yo, Wolfman!" Craig's voice crackled cheerfully over the line. "What took ya so long?"

Dante rolled his eyes at the use his old high school nickname. Some people could never leave the past alone- and his best friend was one of them. "Yo, I have company! Whaddaya want?"

"You have company?" Craig repeated in astonishment.

"Yeah, and your sense of timing sucks."

There was a significant pause as Dante braced himself for the inevitable.

"Would said company be of the female persuasion?"

"I ain't sayin' nothin'."

"It's Miaka, isn't it?" Craig chortled gleefully as his friend's silence confirmed the guess. "I knew it! You're goin' down, brother! Kiss yer single, solitary days goodbye!"

"Don't count your chickens-it so happens there's another boyfriend in th' picture!"

"I wouldn't worry." Craig scoffed. "From the way that cute lil' chickie was eyeing ya today, I'd say she's already chosen you over that glorified desk jockey she hangs out with… which reminds me-that's why I'm callin'! I finally figured out where I've seen Miaka before…and I bet you've seen her there too."

"Where's that?" Dante asked. His interest had peaked in spite of himself. Maybe this would explain the powerful sense of déjà vu that had been haunting him since he'd first laid eyes on her.

"Her picture's been in the society pages lots of times with some guy -seems the boyfriend is this big shot young Japanese executive that likes to make the social scene."

Dante's mouth went dry, and his stomach lurched with foreboding. Just calm down, it's no big deal. "So who is he?"

"Jeez, you still don't know? Hasn't she told you his name?"

"I didn't ask, so why the hell should she? We happen t'have better things to talk about!"

"Okay, ya don't need to bite my head off! " Craig grumbled. "Just remember that havin' dough an' social status don't mean that the guy's even worthy of carryin' your jock strap!"

Despite his feeling of uneasiness, Dante had to smile. "Yeah, okay...sorry. You said you have his name?"

"Sure do! It's Sukunami...Taka Sukunami."

To be continued!

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