Sixth Wheel

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The next day was, in Meredeth's mind, as close to perfection as was possible to get. When she'd awoken, she'd found that her rough-and-tumble cop was a cuddly-sleeper which amused her to no end; he'd slept, it seemed, with his arm around her waist the entire night. They'd shared breakfast and Meredeth had taken him through her hour of dance-cardio. Esposito had started to laugh at the idea she used the twenty-first century version of Jane Fonda tapes but he'd stopped laughing when he found himself struggling to keep up while Meredeth went through it like a champ, giving him another reason to be impressed. Despite her plump physique, she was in good physical shape, making him feel unexpectedly protective of her. He slumped onto her couch to catch his breath as she shoved the coffee table back in place.

"Holy crap, Mere, that little blond is the devil."

"She whips my ass four times a week."

"Four times a week?"

"I sit for long periods writing, so I need to do it to keep up my endurance." Mere drank water, patted her face with the edge of her shirt; the lifted cotton revealed to Esposito the tip of a surgical scar. peaking out from her shorts. "You want the shower first, or is it ladies first?"

"We could share one. It's economical, time-saving and sexy all at once. A triple threat."

Mere smiled. "How can I argue with logic like that?" So saying, she stripped off her shirt in the living room, stepped out of her shorts on her way down the hall.

By the time Esposito had rolled up his tongue and followed her into the narrow bathroom, she'd already turned on the water, stepped in. It was the first time he'd be naked with her, he realized as he pulled the curtain aside. Joining her under the water, he took her in - she was just as magnificent in person as she'd been in his fantasy. Soft skin with freckles dotted here and there including one very naughtily placed near the center of her left breast. The surgical scar was long and thin on a diagonal over her right hip just above, he noted, a tattoo of blue numbers. The fact she sported secret ink made his mouth water. She'd already lathered some creamy soap into her hands and was rubbing it into her skin in an efficient way, into both shoulders, over the breasts, down the stomach to her scar. He reached behind her to the shampoo on the shelf, squeezed it into his hand.

"Wanna do my back?"

"Only you," she murmured, obligingly sliding her soap-slicked hands over his shoulders. He was built like a brick wall, that golden caramel skin covering a taught, disciplined body. It made her feel fleshy and fat by comparison. He had no little lip below his navel that always pouted over the top of his underwear like she did, or scars like her souvenir from a burst appendix. Before she could let it get the better of her, he turned around, and running his head under the water to clean away shampoo, he bent his head to kiss her. The taste of him combined with the warm water had her defenses weakening and she felt her body respond as he pulled her close.

Esposito could have spent all day with her in the shower like that; she was lush and lovely despite the hesitation he sensed in her. His spidey-senses told him she wasn't used to being treated like this, like she was just as sexy and desirable as the stick-figures with silicone breasts in magazines. Well, he'd have to change her mind on that count, he mused as he slid his hands down her ribcage, up to cup her breasts, those beautiful swells that had made saliva pool in his mouth since she'd so kindly displayed them in that tight black shirt at the movies.

"You're so stacked," he told her, pleased her reaction was a small satisfied groan.

"You're not so bad yourself." But she leaned away from him as she said it. She had to look him in the eye as she spoke her mind. "Does it bother you?"

"What?"

"That we've been together a few weeks now, and there hasn't been a lot of...you know, skede time?"

Esposito sighed; he'd wished he was wrong about that timidness. "When I'm serious about someone, I don't rush it. I figure it'll happen when it happens. Doesn't mean I don't think you're hot because you are, but I've had things blow up on me in the past because of rushing face-first into sex. No pun intended," he added, realizing how dirty that last bit was, "and the last thing I want to do is scare you off. I do have one question though."

"Okay then."

"What is skede exactly?"

"It's Danish for...the P-word."

Esposito wrinkled his nose. He'd never liked that word, it sounded so cheap. "Sounds better in Danish."

She laughed, then turned around. "You can do my back now."

By the time they finished, Arturo was ready for a walk, so Meredeth suggested they head over to the near-by park. She'd brought her camera along, stopping when Arturo stopped to photograph various skylines or stores fronts. By the time they reached the park, he'd opened and shut his mouth a dozen times to ask her what she was doing.

"It's for the new Lady Hawk," she explained off of Esposito's confused look as she threw Arturo's favorite tennis ball for him. "I photograph different spots and Kristof will take, say, four or five different pieces and sketch them into part of our fictional setting. Having them based off of real places gives them a certain mood. Speaking of which, exactly how do you know Richard Castle? I've been wanting to interview him for ages but I never had a shot at it with that Nazi of an agent he's got now."

"He shadows my boss. You read Naked Heat?"

"Oh yeah. Page one-oh-five? I needed a cold shower after that one."

"She wanted to beat his ass over that one but good."

Meredeth watched him crouch to pick up Arturo's ball, which Arturo had politely spat at his feet. He made kissy noises at the dog as though he were a cooing baby, then whipped the ball like a starting pitcher aiming for the strike zone. His face was flush with joy and when he smiled at her, she felt her insides leap like frogs. Inspired, she took the camera out again and passed it to a blond woman watching a Pomeranian chase after a Frisbee as big as it was. "Excuse me."

"Yes?"

"Can you take a picture of me and my boyfriend?"

"Oh sure!" The blond woman took the camera he offered, sighed with envy as he pulled the bubbly brunette over, wrapped his arms around her. She took a few in rapid succession, included the bruiser of a dog when he wandered back. "There you go."

"Thanks."

"Why do you want pictures?"

"I'm going on a couple of talk shows next week for my new book and I want to take a few pictures of you and Artie to show off. That cool with you?"

"You're going on a couple of talk shows?"

"Yeah, I was going to tell you, but we got...distracted," she said at length, blushing a little as she remembered the little shower massage they'd shared. "I have to fly out to Los Angeles next Sunday."

When Esposito said nothing, just flipped through the camera card's photo album, she swallowed deeply. "It wasn't a secret or anything, I just hadn't told you yet, so-"

"Mere, slow down. It's fine, I'm just trying to decide between the second one or the fifth one. I like the lighting better in the second one, but the fifth one doesn't make my ears look too goofy." He turned the camera around to show her, grinning. His girlfriend was going to be on national TV. That was too cool for words. "Which one do you like and which late show host will see it?"

"You're going Hollywood on me, Javi. It's the two Jimmies - Fallon and Kimmel, on Monday and Tuesday, and then Craig Ferguson on Thursday."

"Just promise me one thing, okay?"

Since his voice had gone serious, Meredeth cleared her throat. "What's that?"

"You have to get me a picture of Craig and his shark puppet."