I looked like Phyllis Diller before her makeover. Great.

Sighing, I opened the door.

"Hey, Ryan. What's up?"

"Saw your light and figured you might be back early"

He gave me an appraising look.

"Rough day?"

"I spent today traveling and sorting flesh," I said defensively, then tucked my hair behind my ears. "Coming in?"

"Can't stay" I noticed he was wearing his pager and gun. "Just thought I'd inquire as to your dinner plans for tomorrow night."

"I'll be sorting bomb victims all day tomorrow, sol may be a little zonked."

"You will have to eat."

"I will have to eat."

He placed one hand on my shoulder and twirled a strand of my hair with the other

"If you're tired we could skip dinner and just relax," he said in a low voice,

"Hmm."

"Broaden our horizons?"

He swept back the hair and brushed his lips across my ear. Oh yes. "Sure, Ryan. I'll wear my thong panties. "I always encourage that." I gave him my "yeah, right" look. "Will you spring for Chinese?"

"Chinese is good," he said, drawing my hair upward and swirling it into a topknot. Then he let it fall and wrapped both arms around my back. Before I could object he pulled me close and kissed me, his tongue teasing the edges of my lips, then gently probing the inside of my mouth.

His lips felt soft, his chest hard against mine. I started to push away but knew that was not what I wanted to do. Sighing, I relaxed and my body molded to his. The horrors of the day evaporated, and for that moment I was safe from the madness of bombs and murdered children.

Eventually we needed air

"You're sure you don't want to come in?" I asked, stepping back and holding the door open. My knees felt like Jell-O salad.

Ryan looked at his watch.

"I'm sure a half hour won't matter."

At that moment his pager sounded. He checked the number "Shit."

Shit.

He rehooked the pager to the waist of his jeans.