STAR CROSS'D

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Cascade, Washington

1995

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"Come," Captain Simon Banks called out as he put down his pen.

"Captain Banks, I'm Jim Ellison from Vice. My captain said you borrowed me for a special assignment tonight."

"Yes, that's right. Come in and have a seat. You want coffee?" Simon waved Jim towards the conference table.

"Yes, sir, thank you. Black, please."

Simon scrutinized Jim while he poured. "Detective, I borrowed you because I need a handsome young man to crash a party tonight." He then began spreading a line of photographs out on the table.

"Sir?"

"I need someone to crash a very high profile shindig with the wealthy and famous of the Northwest, and I didn't want to use anyone from Major Crime who might be more easily recognize." He tapped the first picture on the far left with the end of his unlit cigar. "This is Naomi Sandburg. You may have heard of her. She is one of the richest, most powerful women in America today. She took over a large family corporation in l968 and has run it with the hand of a dictator every since, making everyone in her circle extremely wealthy."

"So, Captain, that's the American dream, isn't it? That's not a crime."

"No, making wealth in an honest way is not a crime. In fact, it sounds pretty good to me,” Simon said with a chuckle before he continued. “But we have information that leads us to believe otherwise. It seems from our unreliable source…" Simon saw Jim's raised eyebrow. "Yes, unfortunately, I said 'unreliable'. Pillow talk, I'm afraid. I consider that type of information unreliable. Anyway, we have reason to believe that Sandburg International is a front for a fencing operation."

Jim snickered. "Yeah, right, the richest woman in America is fencing hot stereos."

Simon shook his head and smiled. "I wish it were as simple as hot stereos. We have been told that it is a front for extremely rare, extremely expensive items. When a ten million-dollar painting or a five-million-dollar diamond necklace is heisted, when any rare and expensive artifact is stolen anywhere in the world, we believe that the item is funneled through Sandburg International, and SI collects a very large finder's fee. These kinds of items are sold to collectors who have very private collections. They aren't on display in anyone's living room, that's for sure. They are in private vaults for personal enjoyment and are almost never recovered."

"Wait, Captain, isn't this some Fed case, or even an Interpol case? If this is world-wide, it's way out of our jurisdiction."

"Yes, you're correct, if it's a case at all -- and that's the problem. We need more information. Try to get close to someone in this organization. I understand Mrs. Sandburg is quite willing to share her bed with handsome gentlemen. I hope that wouldn't offend your delicate sensibilities." Simon chuckled deeply when Jim shook his head. "Or get friendly with one of her people. Anything that would let us know that there is actually something to this story. Then we would let the Feds know, and they can take it from there."

"Yes, sir. I can handle that. You said crash a shindig?"

"Yes, there's a black tie affair at the Sandburg estate tonight. I've gotten you an invitation. I want you to suit up and make an appearance. We were able to obtain a fairly complete guest list, so I had my people run a check on the names listed. The attendees seem to be a relatively law-abiding bunch. A couple of DUIs, and an occasional domestic dispute, but for the most part, I don't think you would be recognized. This isn't a deep cover assignment anyway, but a fact-finding one. But, for God's sakes, be careful anyway. We don't have a lot of information about the people in this organization -- or their tendencies to eliminate interference."

Jim studied the photographs. "So, Captain, give me the run down on the rest of these characters."

"This is the son and heir apparent, Blair Sandburg. Age 26. Graduated a very exclusive private school by age 16, and by 22, he had his Ph.D in business from Yale. He manages the wholesale and retail sales of their vineyards, which is their legitimate front. We have no idea how deep his involvement goes in the allegedly illegitimate enterprise; we assume that because he'll take over the entire organization when he turns 30, that he's in the loop.

“This is Theodore Borden. Age 53. He's been with the family for 21 years. He's the kid's mentor, guardian, bodyguard, and all around nursemaid. The son never goes anywhere without Borden, and he's licensed to carry, so be careful.

“This is Kyle Thomason, the nephew of Naomi Sandburg, also 26, and the wild one of the bunch. He's had a few run-ins with the law, mostly as a juvenile, but nothing major, and never enough for jail time. Those lawyers of his aunt's made sure he just paid a few fines. There are a few unsubstantiated reports of his temper -- bar fights, things like that -- but his aunt has enough money that nothing ever surfaces, and no one every talks. I get a bad feeling just looking at his picture.

“Those are the major family players. You think you can do this? I hope I'm not ruining your Saturday date night, but your captain couldn't stop bragging how you broke that Henderson case a few weeks ago. He said that you were on stake out alone for five days before your team got a break."

"Thank you, sir. Yes, sir. I'm happy to do it, even if I do have to wear a tux."

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Blair Sandburg tried to tie the bow tie on his tuxedo, failing miserably. "God, I hate these things. Why does my mother have to insist that I attend? She knows how much I hate formal occasions."

A low, soft chuckle responded to Blair's questions while strong, brown hands reached to tie and straighten the tie. Theodore Borden looked his charge over from head to foot. Blair stood quietly, allowing his mentor scrutinized his appearance, watching Teddy through dark lashes. He loved Teddy as a father, something he never missed because Teddy had always been there for as long as he could remember.

When Theodore Borden had been assigned the duties of bodyguard and companion to the young Blair over twenty years ago, he had been a young man, tall, dark and muscular, with thick black hair and stern brown eyes. Now his hair had begun to gray at the temples, even though he was still in as good as physically possible -- for an old man -- as he often pointed out to Blair.

He smiled fondly at his charge. He loved Blair as the son he never had. In fact, he had forgone marriage and children to remain at Blair's side through his youth, adolescence and young manhood. He worried now that Mrs. Sandburg would find a reason to replace him as her son's mentor now that he was starting to show his age. Teddy dreaded the day when he would be forced to relinquish his guardianship of Blair. But Blair was the successor to a vast fortune, and when he reached his thirtieth birthday, he would be allowed to take control of the dominion of Sandburg International. Then Teddy's usefulness would certainly be at an end.

"There. You look perfect. Your mother will be pleased," Teddy said with affection.

Blair looked impeccable in the custom-made tuxedo. His long, brown hair was curly and sun-streaked with red tones, and was pulled back at the nape of his neck. It was secured with a silver clasp detailed with two black onyx stones, while a similar stone graced his left ear. His mother would probably purse her lips and shake her head because he was not wearing the diamond stud she had recently given him. Blair felt pretentious in it, so it sat glittering on his dresser. Besides, he felt the lustrous black stone was more refined, and more suitable for a man.

Blair sighed. "Yes, I know. When Mother is pleased, all is right with the world." He slid a finger into the collar and pulled, giving himself a little bit more space to breathe.

Teddy patted his shoulders, smiling. "Blair, you should change that earring. She's not going to be happy about the one you're wearing."

"No way. I feel uncomfortable in that diamond. Maybe she won't notice." Even as the words left his mouth, he started to laugh. Teddy joined in. Mother noticed every detail, from the top of his head down to the soles of his shoes.

"It's getting late. She's expecting you, so you had better hurry." Teddy gave Blair a slight pat on the head, eliciting a grin and a hug from his boy.

"Thanks, Teddy. I'll see you downstairs later."

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Setting course for the ballroom on the first floor of the palatial mansion, Blair straightened his shoulders. As he neared his destination, he could hear the strains of the orchestra playing a waltz. He groaned silently to himself, knowing that his mother would expect him to dance with certain young ladies that she had hand picked for his attentions. He glanced at the Rolex on his left wrist. 8:30 pm. Right on time. And only four hours to bear until he could escape his duties as the son of Naomi Sandburg, richest woman on the West Coast, CEO of Sandburg International, and overseer of Blackhawk Vineyards.

Blair stopped when he passed one of the windows overlooking the rolling fields that lay to the back of the estate. Four hundred acres of some of the finest vineyards in the entire United States. He smiled fondly, letting his eyes drink in the lush plantings. How he loved those grapes! This is what he was born for, he was sure, and where he felt his happiest -- out in the fields, tending and caring for the vines. And the end results -- wonderful, sweet, tantalizing juice of grapes that turned into one of man's greatest pleasure, wine.

A throat cleared behind him, startling him out of his reverie. He turned, meeting the smiling eyes of his cousin, Kyle Thomason. "Hey, coz, how's it going?"

Smiling, Kyle crossed the space between them and punched Blair hard in the arm.

He grinned wickedly. "Come on, day dreamer, your mother asked me to find you. You're in trouble now."

With the rivalry between them since they were children, Kyle enjoyed it when Blair was in trouble with Naomi. Something that Blair tried hard to avoid, but still seemed to happen more often than he liked. Blair grinned back as he took a swipe at Kyle, connecting with a good right on his chest. Even though Kyle was a taller and heavier than Blair, Blair had been the best student in his martial arts and self-defense classes through the years, and he was able to give better than he got most of the time. Kyle tried to stay out of his way. There was power behind that punch, Kyle knew from experience.

Blair started once again in the direction of the ballroom, Kyle fast on his heels. Age wise, they were only a few months apart, but that's where the similarity ended. Even though they were first cousins, Kyle's coloring was light and fair, with blond hair and green eyes. He was tall and slender, built more like a long distance runner than a weight lifter. Blair was compact, with strong shoulders and muscular legs. While Blair was lean, he was not thin, and often fooled his fellow sparring partners with his quick and powerful grace.

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The men reached the large, tastefully decorated ballroom, stopping in the doorway to survey the scene in front of them. Blair scanned the gathering of l50 of the Great Northwest's wealthiest people, every one a contributor to one of Naomi's many philanthropic organizations. His eyes finally located his mother among an adoring throng of women. Everyone loved Naomi Sandburg. She was a beautiful, mature woman who could have had her pick of many handsome, eligible men, but she chose to remain unattached, unwilling to share any of the fruits of her labors with a partner. Not that she lacked for companionship in the bedroom; many men vied for her affections.

While she was only twenty-one when Blair was born, she was already a wealthy woman in charge of a large corporation. Her parents had been killed unexpectedly in a plane crash the year previously, and she stepped up to the helm of their family business without a moment's hesitation. She hired the best people to teach her the business and completed her MBA in business administration through private instruction while she oversaw the day to day operations of her organization.

Blair and Naomi's eyes met across the room. As he started towards her, he saw her smile and excuse herself from amongst the quests, and she met him halfway. He smiled at her as she shook her head slightly. She turned her cheek to Blair for a quick kiss. "Blair, you're fifteen minutes late." She chided him gently, her eyes warm and smiling.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I was passing the windows overlooking the vineyards, and the moon looked so beautiful. The light was dancing off the leaves. I just had to stop and admire nature's handiwork."

"Blair, you are such a romantic. I don't know where you get those notions.” Naomi laughed merrily. “Those vineyards aren't nature's handy-work, they're from many long hours of hard work from our field workers. Come along, Blair. We must greet the Governor." Naomi turned gracefully in her champagne-colored evening gown, adding over her shoulder, "I have a few young ladies to point out to you who will require your attentions this evening. Several large contributions and some important business affairs will be greatly affected by your behavior towards the daughters of the families who are interested in conducting business with SI."

Blair's warm blue eyes met Naomi's. "Of course, Mother. I'm always happy to help in anyway I can, you know that. Just point me in the right direction, and I'll take care of it."

Naomi stopped and gave Blair a serious look. "Oh, and son, please do not neglect your duties to Miranda."

"Certainly, Mother. I'll attend to it as soon as we've greeted Governor Taylor."

Naomi quickly touched a finger to Blair's cheek. "Thank you, Blair. I expect no less from you than your best, which you always give. Every mother should have a son as special as you."

Blair beamed under his Mother's generous compliments. She must have a great deal at stake to be so effusive tonight.

Naomi leaned over to Blair and whispered, "You look exceedingly handsome tonight, Blair, except for that earring."

Blair had to smile. Nothing escaped his mother's attentions down to the smallest detail, but she had apparently decided that it was not worth calling him to task on. Any small deviation from her strict guidelines was always appreciated. Blair harbored no resentment to Naomi's hard and fast rules. He recognized the fact that her main goal was to secure his future. She was just as demanding of herself as she was of those around her. He knew that she did everything in her power to guide him so that in four short years he would be ready to take over his rightful place at the head of the business. It was Naomi's goal that Blair would follow in her footsteps as a formidable business leader and force to be reckoned with in the running of SI.

Just six months ago, he had been given permission to start an Internet business regarding Blackhawk Vineyards. He had convinced his mother that the Internet was going to be the wave of the future, and Blackhawk had a chance to be in on the ground floor. It was proving to be a commercial success beyond his wildest expectations, and he was thrilled to be involved once again in the operation of the vineyards. They were his true love, and since Naomi had decided a year ago that he was to relinquish the day to day hands-on operations in exchange for the business operations from their downtown office, he had missed the days spent outdoors in the winery.

He loved everything about making wine, but now, the only time he seemed to find his way to the cellars were few and far between. He missed it a great deal, and at least now, he still had a good excuse to keep in close contact with the vintners. If it were his choice, he would never step inside an office every again, but he owed it to his family to do what he was born to do: run SI. One thing that had been drilled into Blair Sandburg's head since he could walk and talk was his duty and that was to Sandburg International. It never entered his mind to question his destiny, or to dream he had the right to follow his own path.

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The party was well under way when Jim Ellison made his appearance a little before 10:00 pm. He presented his invitation to the doorman when requested and was admitted without question. He had been impressed driving up the long, cobbled lane leading to the three story stone mansion set among meticulously kept lawns and gardens. Jim was impressed at the grandeur of the inside the mansion as well. He chuckled at the image of his entire loft that could easily fit into the entryway.

Jim followed several other guests towards the sounds of orchestra music. It was soothing and finely played. He was happy about that, since for the last few weeks he had been experiencing headaches randomly, something that Jim had never suffered from until recently.

He stopped inside the doorway and scanned the crowded room, recognizing a few faces from the local newspaper, and the Governor of the State of Washington. As as far as the rest of the crowd went, Jim was far out of the loop of wealthy people. His world consisted of the station, his loft, his favorite bar, and a few neighborhood restaurants he frequented. None of these people would tread in his world.

Jim spied the bar and headed in that direction without hesitation, taking in and categorizing the faces he passed on his journey. He had an excellent memory, and he enjoyed observing subjects in their natural habitat. He smiled at several attractive women who caught his eye on his way across the room. Jim had the elegance to carry off a rented tuxedo, something few men could do well. Leaning on the bar, he asked for a beer, which was served from a silver tap in a very fine crystal glass. He took a polite sip as he scanned the room, looking for the head honcho herself, Naomi Sandburg.

There she was, absolutely stunning in a courtier gown from Paris. She was older than he was, but he would have never guessed it if Captain Banks hadn't filled him in on the details. He thought wickedly how he would enjoy a little of that pillow talk the captain had mentioned with the said Mrs. Sandburg. He casually started in her direction, intending on asking her to dance, when a clumsy waiter crashed into an unsuspecting guest, sending a tray with a dozen champagne glasses crashing to the floor. Jim had been focusing on Naomi when the sounds reached his ears. Without knowing why, the noise sent a stab of agonizing pain through his head. He winced as his hand reached up to his forehead to try and rub away the pain, the glass in his hand teetering, and spilling some of its contents onto the floor.

A firm hand grasped his lower arm, removed the glass from his hand, and spoke to him. "Excuse me. Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Jim tried to look at the face that went with the deep voice, but once again the pain shot across his forehead. "My head. It's killing me," he mumbled. He wrapped his arm around his stomach, the pain suddenly making him nauseous.

"Come on. Let's get you outside for some fresh air."

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Across the crowded room, Naomi examined the revelers. She was very pleased at how well things were progressing. As her eyes took in the guests, they lit on a tall, handsome man getting a drink from the bar. She appraisingly looked up and down the man's body. She was in the mood for a change and he seemed quite appealing. Naomi smiled to herself, and tapped Kyle on the shoulder.

"Kyle, who is that attractive man at the bar? Light brown hair, tall, and well built. I would so like to meet him. He looks positively scrumptious."

Kyle laughed at the look on his aunt's face. Whoever was in her sights was in for a rare treat. Kyle would have liked to sample the treats himself, but for the family ties, so he had to settle for an occasional fantasy regarding his aunt, and the occasional troll for someone more suitable for her pleasure. His grin dropped from his face, and he advanced a step, swearing under his breath. "Damn it. Who let that asshole in here?"

Naomi's strong hand grasped his coat sleeve. She spun her nephew on his heels to face her, clamped a hand on his waist, and pulled him onto the nearby dance floor.

"Kyle, what the hell has gotten in to you?"

"That man -- the one you were ogling. I know him. He's a damned cop. He's the prick who busted me two years ago with a crummy ounce of pot. He's Vice."

Naomi's mind clicked into overdrive. "A cop? Are you sure?"

Kyle grimaced. "Yes, Naomi, I'm sure, and I plan on doing something about it."

Naomi's voice was icy; her fingers dug into his arm. "You seem to be forgetting who's in charge here, Kyle. Do you think he recognized you?"

"Not a chance. It was that frat party at Rainier. You remember. You were just a bit angry with me about my hair being dyed purple and spiked. There must have been 20 or more people arrested in that sweep. Besides, with that fake ID I had on me, and your clever manipulations, I have no record. I'm as clean as the driven snow."

Naomi scowled at her nephew. "And, as I remember correctly, it cost me about ten thousand to get the entire sorry affair buried. You were lucky I had that informant in the Cascade PD, or you would have been thrown out faster than you could say -- no inheritance."

She glanced back at the subject of their conversation once again, thinking out loud. "There's only one reason for a cop to come undercover to my party. Some bastard is talking in his sleep. I'll bet you a hundred grand on it."

Suddenly, the sounds of a crash and breaking glass assailed Naomi's ears. Her attention was diverted for a second. Kyle started to pull out of her grasp but she held fast. "No! I refuse to let you make a scene at this gathering. It's far too important. You have my permission to make discreet inquiries tomorrow. I want none of your strong-arm shenanigans in public. I don't work that way, and you know it." Kyle stood silently, face sullen. "Kyle?" Naomi asked; her tone brooked no argument.

With a sigh, Kyle said, "Yes, Naomi. You're right. You're always right. But tomorrow, I will find out who sent him and why. Then all bets are off, and he's fair game."

Naomi affectionately patted her nephew's handsome cheek. "Of course, Kyle. I can always count of you. Handle this properly, and you might find that little boat you've had your eye on in your slip at the marina after all."

Kyle watched the cop and saw when his cousin approached him. He saw Blair put his hand under the man's elbow and start to lead him away. With a last look at the cop and Blair as they disappeared through the French doors to the veranda, Kyle shut the two of them from his mind -- for now.

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Jim allowed the man lead him out the closest set of French doors, across the flagstone terrace, and to the steps leading into the manicured garden. Jim faltered slightly, so the man stopped and gently pushed him onto the steps. "Just sit here until the pain passes. Should I call you a doctor?"

Jim breathed in and out deeply several times until some of the pain started to subside. Then he raised his eyes and looked into the dusky blue eyes of his rescuer. When their eyes met, Jim felt a déjà vu flash wash over him, startling him. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

Seeing his guest's pale face, the helpful man said, "I'm calling a doctor, right now." He took a few steps back towards the house.

Jim's eyes flew open. "No. No, please don't. I'm fine. I've, ah, I've been suffering from migraines for the past three or four weeks. I've been to the doctors. They say it's stress." When the music started up again, another sharp stab of pain crossed his forehead. Rising, Jim breathed through his nose harshly. "I have to get away from the noise. It's killing me," he said from between clenched teeth.

The man put a hand under Jim's elbow and led him across the garden, through a white wrought iron gate, and out into the cool night air. He pulled Jim to a halt and stood in front of him, holding his forearms, steadying him.

"Take deep, even breaths. In and out. Come on, you can do it."

Jim complied, grateful when the pain started to subside. The cool air on his skin helped also. He hadn't realized how hot he had become when the pain started. After a few minutes, he finally was able to look at his companion and recognized Blair Sandburg from the photograph he had studied on the Captain's table not more than four hours ago. His brain engaged and he realized that this might be the opportunity he needed regarding his undercover assignment. He gave Blair a lopsided smile. "Thanks. I'm sorry you had to leave the party. I'm Jim Ellison." He held out his hand.

Blair gave him a wide smile, blue eyes bright and friendly. "I'm Blair Sandburg. It's very nice to meet you."

As Jim grasped Blair's hand, hot tingles traveled up his arm, down his torso, and through his legs. He sucked in a quick breath, releasing Blair's hand immediately.

"What is it? Did I hurt you?" Blair asked.

"You didn't feel that?"

Shaking his head, Blair said, "No, I felt nothing unusual. A bit of static electricity, perhaps."

"It's just probably from these damned headaches." Jim sighed and rubbed his forehead and temples, willing the rest of the pain away.

"You said you had been to the physicians for these headaches. What do they say is the cause of them?" Blair asked before laughing lightly. "Oh, I'm sorry. That was very rude of me to ask you so personal a question. Sometimes I tend to ramble and be nosy without realizing the consequences. Please accept my apology."

Jim smiled, liking the man's friendly demeanor. "No. It's okay. I haven't told anybody about them, other than the doctors." Jim sighed at the revelation. He didn't have anybody to tell, other than his captain and a few drinking buddies on the force. He was a loner with no family and few friends, and he often told himself that he preferred it that way.

"Why not? Maybe someone can help?" Blair asked.

"Nobody to tell," Jim growled, surprised at his own revelation. Why was he relaying personal information to this guy? He needed to have his head examined again, because something was wrong. Not only did he need to tell Blair; he wanted to tell Blair. What the hell was wrong with him? This man was a complete stranger and quite possibly a criminal.

"Mr. Ellison, there's a bench over in the next row of vines. Let's sit down, and you can tell me about the headaches. I know quite a few specialists. Maybe if I know more, I can think of someone who might be able to help you. Perhaps you should consider some alternative approach, meditation or yoga." He turned without waiting for Jim's reply and sat on the old, weathered stone bench, patting the space next to him. He smiled encouragingly and waited patiently for Jim to speak.

"Please call me Jim. Mr. Ellison is my father," Jim said, sitting beside his new friend. Rubbing a hand across his forehead, Jim sighed again. “It all started about four weeks ago. I went to the hospital, and they ran all kinds of tests. They can tell me what its not. It's not a brain tumor, or epilepsy, or any one of a dozen other brain diseases. After two days, three doctors decided it was job stress and gave me some sedatives. I tried one and was unconscious for twelve hours. I haven't taken another one since."

Blair sat quietly, thinking. "What happened just before the headaches started? Did you suffer from something stressful, say, a divorce, or a family member or friend's death? Anything like that?"

'No. It's just the same thing. I'm at the same job, doing the same thing."

"What job is that?"

That's when Jim knew he was headed for the psycho ward, because before he could stop himself, he had blurted it out. "I'm a cop."

Blair's face looked very pleased when he said, "Well, hell, Jim, that's a damned stressful occupation. No wonder you're getting headaches. You'd better think about doing something else before you make yourself even sicker."

Jim looked at Blair incredulously. If Sandburg were into something illegal, the last thing Jim would have expected was Blair's apparently innocent suggestion to consider an alternative occupation to relieve his symptoms. Either that, or he was a damned good actor. Jim stared with his mouth open for several seconds, before he clamped his lips together. He was a great undercover cop, wasn't he? He was disgusted with himself.

Blair was oblivious to Jim's inner turmoil. "So if nothing along those lines happened, what else was going on? Did you shoot someone, or get shot at? Something had to trigger the episodes."

Jim consider several possibilities before it hit him. No, it couldn't be. But that was what he had done almost the whole week before the first headache.

Slowly, Jim said, "Well, I remember the only thing was that I was on stake out alone for five days. But that couldn't trigger headaches, could it? It was nice and quiet, and I enjoyed it. No one yelling; no one shooting; just watching the perps and taking photos of their comings and goings."

Blair sat quietly once again. He remembered the reaction Jim had when the music had started while they were sitting on the veranda, and his reactions to the noise of the tray falling and the glasses crashing. He thought about the five days on stake out, and the isolation. It was nagging the back of his mind. He had read something, but what was it? He furrowed his brow, concentrating. There! That book he had bought from the second hand store in SoHo last year, the one by Sir Richard Burton.

Excitedly, Blair said, "Jim, I think I might have an idea, but I have to do some research. Why don't you give me your phone number so I can call you tomorrow? Then we can meet, and I'll let you know what I've found out. How does that sound?"

Jim felt at ease with this young man. His cop instincts told him he was safe. His inner voice told him Blair was earnest. He was anxious to find a cure for his problems so he could resume his duties at full strength. He continued to stare right at Blair's face, thinking, deciding, focusing intently on the man before him, when his vision tunneled, his hearing blocked out, his eyes glazed over, and without a sound, he toppled over.

Blair reacted quickly. He slid to his knees, lifting Jim's head and putting it gently in his lap. He patted Jim's cheeks, concerned because his eyes were open and unblinking. Blair instinctively ran his hand up and down Jim's cheek, talking the entire time. "Jim! Jim! Come on, man. Wake up. Please, Jim, please wake up." Finally, after several minutes, Jim blinked once, twice, and sighed heavily. Finally he raised his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Jim, can you hear me? Please answer me, or I'm going to call an ambulance."

"Blair? What happened?" Jim asked in a raspy, dry voice.

"Oh, man, I have no idea. I thought you were in a trance or catatonic or whatever. It was really weird."

Blair put his arm around Jim's shoulders and helped him sit up. Blair's face was just inches from Jim's, while his hand rested against Jim's chest. Jim's brain was on autopilot. At least that's what he told himself after it happened -- after he put his hand behind Blair's head and pulled their lips together, barely touching for a gentle kiss.

Jim dropped his hand as if Blair's head was on fire. Lightening flashed through his body, starting at his lips and ending at his groin. Jim groaned deeply and pulled away as their eyes met. His mouth was partially opened, and he was breathing heavily when Blair advanced into Jim's space, sliding his hand behind his head. Jim never spoke and never moved as Blair's lips pressed against Jim's, softly at first, then harder. Jim moaned, and his body responded quickly.

Blair slid his tongue gently across Jim's soft, velvety lips. When his mouth parted, Blair plunged his tongue in and hungrily explored the hot recesses. There was nothing gentle about the kiss.

Jim's hand reached up and cupped Blair's head, locking their mouths together. Their tongues entwined as they kissed, passionately and noisily. When they finally parted, both men were panting. Jim's hand reached down. He unbuttoned and unzipped Blair's pants, his eyes never leaving Blair's face, watching for any sign of withdrawal. All he saw in those smoldering eyes was passion. Then Blair followed suit, wrapping his hand around Jim's hard shaft and stroking gently at first, then harder, Jim reciprocated by clasping Blair's erection, matching Blair's strokes with his own.

Their mouths found each other again, touching, sucking, and licking. The sparks flew, and the orgasms sang as they came one after the other, hard and fast. Blair moaned and pressed his head to Jim's shoulder while Jim's hand stroked the back of Blair's head and kissed the side of his flushed face. After the trembling and shudders had run their course, they parted and shakily replaced their respective body parts in their proper places, smiling almost shyly at each other.

Blair licked his lips. "That was fantastic."

Jim intently watched Blair, and when his tongue flicked out across his lips, Jim's shaft twitched as a hot wave of desire hit his groin. "Oh, my God.! What was that?"

Blair's laugh was deep when he said, "That was sex, Jim."

"Yeah, I know. I was there, remember?"

Blair laughed again. "You mean, where did it come from, and why, don't you?"

Jim joined in Blair's laughter. "Yes. Why, I have no idea.” After a long pause, he added, “It felt right."

Blair reached out and laced his fingers with Jim's, kissing the back of his hand. "It felt right. Jim?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever done…" Jim kissed Blair's lips lightly. ...that before?

"No. Have you?"

"Oh, no. Did you...” Another kiss. ...like it?

"Yes. Did you?"

"Yes. Are we going to…" Another kiss. ...do it again?

"Oh, yes. Do you want to?"

"Yes, please. How do you know what I'm…" Another kiss. ...going to say?

"I have no idea."

Both men laughed heartily. It was just so silly, they couldn't hold in their merriment.

Finally Blair stood and reached out his hand. "Come on. We'll have to sneak in the servants' entrance and get up to my room by the back stairs. We need to get cleaned up. Teddy is probably looking for me right now." Jim put his hand in Blair's, letting Blair pull him to his feet. They quietly stole through the herb garden behind the kitchen. "Jim, just be quiet." Blair giggled. "I used to sneak in all the time when I was a kid. I hardly ever got caught. Just follow me."

Silently, they crept through the garden door into the empty kitchen. Jim followed closely on Blair's heels, watching his backside through his trousers. It looked so inviting that it made Jim's mouth water. He admonished himself severely. He was here on police assignment, and here he was having hot sex with the soon-to-be family patriarch. He was a damned lousy cop -- but a happy one. He would think about what they had done later. Right now, he hadn't had this much fun since before his mother left him, more than twenty years before.

-------------------------------------------------

Finally, after two sets of stairs and innumerable closed doors, Blair opened one of the many doors, hit the light switch, and pulled Jim in roughly by his hand. He quickly closed the door, clicking the lock into place. He leaned back against it, laughing; his hair was askew, pulled from its restraint. It was long and curly, and Jim had to restrain himself from reaching out to touch the inviting strands.

"Come on. The bathroom's through here."

Jim finally looked around, taking stock of his surroundings. "Blair, just how many rooms does this place have?"

"Thirty-six."

"You're kidding? Is this your room?"

"Yes, why?"

"It's bigger than my whole apartment. It's pretty nice."

"Oh, yeah, thanks. What's mine is yours. Make yourself comfortable, very comfortable. See, there's my bed. Hint. Hint," Blair said with a seductive grin.

"Chief, we just met an hour ago, and we've already gone beyond the bounds of friendship. Give me a break, okay?"

Blair provocatively closed the space between them and threw his arms around Jim's neck. “Screw the break. Better yet..” He pulled Jim's lips to his and walked backward while kissing amorously. Jim put his hands on Blair's hips, following willingly, until the backs of Blair's knees hit the bed and he fell, pulling Jim down on top of him. Blair's renewed erection pressed against Jim's stomach. Jim was just as hard, and they rubbed against each other, hot and needy.

The doorknob rattled and someone knocked sharply. "Blair? Why is this door locked?" More knocking -- harder. "Blair!"

Time stopped. Blair slid his hand over Jim's mouth while he put his lips to Jim's ear. "Teddy,” he whispered. “I'll have to open the door. You have to go -- now. Down the fire escape. Please, Jim."

Jim considered the strange request. He wasn't used to sneaking around, but then again, he wasn't used to having sex with rich, attractive, possible suspects to crime either. Jim nodded, rising quickly. Blair opened the long windows leading to the fire escape. Jim threw a leg over the balcony railing and stopped. Their eyes met. Blair stepped forward and kissed him, hard and quick.

Jim smiled. "Tomorrow?"

"Yes, tomorrow. Wait! Your phone number."

Blair pressed his ear to Jim's lips, he whispered, and then he was gone.

-------------------------------------------------

Blair tore into the bathroom and threw the faucets wide open, hitting the shower button. He pulled off his tux quickly, tossing it into a heap on the floor. He wrapped a towel around his waist and went to open the door where an irritated Teddy glowered at him.

"What the hell are you doing? I've been looking for you for over an hour." Teddy surveyed the room critically, noting the rumpled bed cover. "Did you have a woman up here? You're mother won't tolerate that, Blair."

Blair gave Teddy an innocent look and said, "No, no woman. Honest. I'm going to take a shower, and then I'm hopping straight into bed."

While Blair jumped into the shower, Teddy saw Blair's tux thrown on the floor and automatically went over to pick it up. One of his many duties over the years was cleaning up after his often-sloppy boy. He started to fold the trousers over his arm when he noticed the large, wet stain. He held up the trousers, also noting the dirt and bits of grass clinging to the soft fabric. He had enough lovers over the years. He knew what had been going on. Teddy stood for several minutes mulling over the information. Blair was usually not a liar. He had said he did not have a woman in his room. Teddy's mouth dropped open when the next thought hit him. Not a woman -- a man. He left, taking the tuxedo with him. He intended to deliver it to the cleaners personally.

Walking toward his own quarters, Teddy's mine raced. He was not surprised that Blair had a man in his room -- his sensibilities about gender were not involved -- but he was surprised and frightened that Blair had anyone in his room in his mother's house. He should know better, but obviously, he didn't. Teddy became more upset the more he thought about it.

While Teddy believed that Naomi Sandburg loved her son, he also knew that she had specific plans for his future. He knew that on Blair's twenty-eighth birthday, his engagement to Miranda Samuelson would be announced with an April wedding to follow. Naomi did not see fit to ask Blair his opinion. It didn't work that way. He had been informed of the engagement, and he would be informed of the wedding date. He would also be informed that a grandchild must make an appearance within the year after the wedding.

Of course, there would be a grandchild. Naomi had seen to it that both Blair and Miranda had been tested, and both were fertile. The Samuelsons were happy to provide their doctor's verification of Miranda's fertility. Blair's had been tested during a routine physical when he had complied with the doctor's request for a semen sample to rule out certain inherited diseases. Naomi left nothing to chance.

Since Blair turned sixteen, Teddy always made "arrangements" for him should he desire the company of a young lady. Teddy carefully picked young, fresh-faced women who were highly paid and highly skilled. The heir was too important to be allowed to pick a lover of his own choosing. With disease and pregnancy lurking, nothing was left to chance. All Blair had to do is ask, like he usually did, and he was provided with whatever he required. Up until now, Blair had never requested the company of a man. Teddy wondered what was different this time, and what had happened. Things like this did not improve his overly protective concern for his boy.

-------------------------------------------------

Jim's telephone rang about 11:30 am. "Ellison."

"Hello, Jim. It's Blair Sandburg. Do you remember me?"

Jim laughed. "Yes, Blair Sandburg, I remember you."

Blair laughed, too. "Good. I'm at the corporate penthouse in the SI Building on 18^th street. Take the blue elevator at the East entrance. Punch in 29879. It will bring you directly here.

"Sandburg, I'm not sure about this. I'm not used to penthouses and mansions, and stuff like that."

"Jim, I have some specific information regarding your headaches. You'll be pleased at what I've found out. No one will disturb us."

"Okay. I'll be there in 30 minutes."

"29879. Bye."

-----------------------------------------

When Jim walked into the penthouse of the SI Building, he was once again impressed by opulence. He rolled his eyes; he was getting tired of being overwhelmed by luxury. When the elevator opened to the penthouse and Jim walked through, Blair stood a few feet from the door, waiting for Jim to make the first move. After all, this was his home turf. He wanted to give Jim the visitor's advantage. Jim smiled at his friend and walked over to his side, giving Blair a quick hug while nuzzling his hair.

Jim was also getting tired of being surprised at how he felt around Blair. He felt safe and protected; like he belonged with Blair. He had no idea where that idea came from, and instead of frightening him, it comforted him. Being this close with another human being usually sent Jim running to the other side of the state, but not with Blair. Why? He had sat up all night trying to figure it out, with no results, other than a headache from lack of sleep.

Blair's smile was warm and inviting. "Hello, Jim. I'm glad you came. What do you have in those bags?"

Jim held up two bags: one white with a grease stain and one brown. "I brought lunch."

"Really? I could have had the corporate kitchen fix you something to eat. You didn't have to bring lunch."

"To hell with the fancy kitchen,” Jim said enthusiastically. “I brought Wonderburgers with the works, chili cheese fries, and root beer."

Blair laughed at Jim's obvious enthusiasm for his choice of food. "Great! Ah, Jim, I've never had a Wonderburger."

"My God, Chief! Where have you been? They're practically a shrine in Cascade."

"Jim, I've driven by Wonderburger a lot of times, and I've had hamburgers, of course, but just not a Wonderburger. It smells great, so let's eat. After, I'll show you what I've discovered."

They sat at the dining table and spread out their feast. Blair dug in. Jim liked the unpretentious way about him. Jim watched Blair eat his Wonderburger, lick chili from his fingers, and guzzle two cans of root beer. Jim wanted to lick the chili from Blair's fingers himself.

Food eaten, Blair leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach. Jim noticed he seemed to have a nice, firm stomach. His fingers longed find out for himself, and he had a hard time controlling his desire. Jim decided when he returned home, he had to have a long talk with himself about this sudden craving he had for Blair Sandburg.

"Man, that was great. Thank you so much. I'll be having those a lot more, I can just tell." Blair's eyes were bright and happy.

Jim laughed, the skin around his eyes crinkling. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

They cleared the table together. Blair grabbed his briefcase, dropped it on the table, and popped the locks. He pulled out several large stacks of paper and one very old, ratty brown book. "The Sentinels of Paraguay" was lettered across the tome, faded and worn. Blair sat next to Jim while he took Jim on a tour of his findings.

"This book is by Sir Richard Burton. The explorer, not the actor. It was written over a hundred years ago. This is about what Sir Richard called "Sentinels". He studied tribes in South America, and explained that each tribe had a Sentinel, a protector."

Jim was intrigued as he looked at the old sepia-toned plates of fierce warriors with painted faces, spears in their hands and feathers in their hair. "You mean like the Indians had, like a scout?"

"Well, kind of, but different. They scouted for game and watched for enemies, sure, but they were different -- genetically different. They had what is called hyperactive senses. They were born with them, and with years of practice, they honed their abilities into fine tools. They could see what other people couldn't, smell what others couldn't; feel, taste, hear, all what other people couldn't. They could sense a change of weather patterns; hear enemies or game from far away, things like that. I think that might be what you're experiencing."

"Why would you think that?" Jim asked.

"Another aspect that Sir Richard points out is that prolonged isolation seemed to heighten these naturally-occurring senses. You said you had been alone on stake out for five days. Then last night, the sounds of the tray falling hurt your head. So did the music when it started back up. You said it was too loud. It was really not very loud for a normal hearing person, say, like me.” Blair spoke intently, sure of his findings. “Then in the vineyard, when you were watching me, you were focused on sight, and you sort of tranced out on me. Well, Sir Richard also wrote that when a Sentinel is using one of his senses at the exclusion of the others, that he blocks out the other senses, creating what he called a "zone out"."

"Wait, that sounds dangerous. A zone out? What happens if that kicks in unexpectedly in the middle of a car chase or a shoot out? Then what am I supposed to do? I don't like this all," Jim said testily. "I didn't ask for any of this. Let's just get rid of them before they become an even bigger problem. What does the book say about -- turning them off?"

Blair looked at him solemnly. While his voice was calm, he was firm when he said, "Hey, listen, you're killing the messenger here. I'm not responsible for your predicament. If you're going to bitch at me about something I didn't have anything to do with, you can handle this yourself. I'm just trying to help. After all, I'm only interested in your body. To hell with delving into your senses and abilities. Besides, I have absolutely no idea how to get rid of them. It seems to me that if they were genetic, that would be an improbability, anyway. "

Jim stared at Blair, opened his mouth, and then clamped it shut. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. "Sorry, Sandburg. It's just that, well, I just don't know what to do. I didn't ask for any of this. You're the only one who has had any idea what's going on. What am I going to do?” Jim's eyes met Blair's and after taking in a shaky breath and exhaling, he asked, “Will you help me learn to control my senses? I guess if I can't get rid of them, I had better learn to deal with them. Please, Chief."

A smile broke over Blair's face. Jim had called him Chief several times now. He had never had a nickname before and having one made him feel special. Blair touched Jim's arm and said soothingly, "Yes, Jim, I'll try to help you, as long as you understand that I have no idea what I'm doing. I just want you to be safe. We'll have to tackle this together."

"That makes two of us. I want to be safe, and I sure as hell don't have any idea what I'm doing. Thanks, Blair. So where were we before you got your feathers ruffled?"

Blair laughed. "Of course, I'm the one who was bitchy. You're lucky you're so damned sexy, or you would be on your own in a heartbeat. Where were we? Right, zone outs. Yes, they can be dangerous, so Sir Richard points out that a Sentinel had a companion, a back up, like you cops say, to watch out for him, to make sure he doesn't zone in a dangerous situation. This companion guides the Sentinel back if he zones. Remember last night when you woke back up? I was talking to you and touching your face. That seemed to help you refocus."

"You know, I could kind of hear your voice when I was zonked. I know this sounds weird, but my -- mind followed it."

"No, that makes sense, according to what little research I've found,” Blair agreed . He paused for a moment before he said, “I was thinking about the wine tasters we employ at Blackhawk, who have acute senses of taste. I know that perfume companies pay a great deal of money for people with very receptive nasal responses. But unfortunately, there isn't much known of modern Sentinels. I figure you might be a genetic throwback."

"Now why doesn't that sound very good? I don't think I like being a genetic throwback," Jim said ruefully.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you. I'm just trying to figure this out. And if you'll let me, I have a couple of simple experiments to give us a hint on how this works. What do you say?"

"Experiments? Will it hurt?" Jim asked warily.

Blair laughed. "Jim, you look like a pretty tough guy. You're afraid I'd hurt you?"

Jim smiled. "No. I don't think you would hurt me. At least, not on purpose. I trust you, Chief, so let's see what you got."

"Great. Let's do an easy one first. You just sit here." Blair disappeared into the bathroom. "Okay, Jim, very slowly try to smell what I have in my hand."

Jim sniffed quickly in Blair's direction, causing a stab of pain to hit his head. He must have made a sound because Blair came from behind the door and stood in front of him.

"What happened?"

"I sniffed and it hurt."

"You must have tried sniffing too much or too hard. Let's try it a different way." Blair scanned the room. "Okay. Let's try this. See that radio? I want you to picture the knob or dial in your mind. Put numbers around it like a clock, one through twelve and label it 'smell'. We'll start at one, which would be your sense of smell turned completely off, and move slowly up the dial. Okay?"

"Yup, that sounds easy enough." Jim closed his eyes.

“Go ahead, Jim,” Blair called from behind the partially opened door.

Jim carefully followed Blair's instructions, concentrating and adjusting the dial slowly. "It's something like minty, like mint mouthwash. And you washed your hair this morning with herbal shampoo."

Blair poked his head from behind the door and smiled. "Jim, that was just great. You're getting the hang of this, aren't you?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah, the dials really help. Let's try something else."

"Okay. Let's try your sight." Blair grabbed the phone book from the desk and walked across the room. He fished in his shirt pocket for his glasses and after putting them on, he opened the book and held it up. "Tell me the address and phone number for John Fitzgerald."

Jim focused. "Which one? There are six of them. John F. lives at 345 Maple Lane, 345-5562."

"Oh, man, you are so good. Come over to the window and let's try your long-range vision. Can you see out on the harbor?"

"Yeah."

"How far do you think that is?"

"A mile or more, probably. There's a boat with the name "Sea Serpent" written on the side."

"Damn, Jim, that's great. What else to you want to try?"

"Touch?" Jim turned Blair to face him, leaned down slightly and brushed his lips against Blair's so inviting mouth. After a light kiss, he pulled back and sighed contentedly. "Let's do taste. You taste marvelous." Jim kissed him again and again, each time with more passion. When Blair's hands snaked up Jim's back and stopped on his shoulder blades, Jim's hands found Blair's ass. He pressed his lover's body against his while he ground his hardening penis against Blair's body. Jim breathing rose and the small whimpers Blair was making in the back of his throat drove Jim crazy.

Releasing Blair's mouth, he asked huskily, "Which way to the bedroom?"

Blair pulled Jim by the waistband of his jeans, walking backward while keeping his eyes glued on his lover's face. When Blair's backward progress was stopped by the closed door, Jim pinned him against it and captured his lips once again. He savored the spicy Blair flavor and did something he hadn't known was possible -- he catalogued the taste of his lover straight into his brain -- something the Sentinel had never done before. His lips roamed the side of Blair's face to his his ear, sucking on the lobe. Jim chuckled when Blair moaned and wiggled against him, and goose bumps ran down his arm. Jim's body responded quickly and waves of electricity coursed through his limbs.

Nuzzling the curly hair, Jim once again enjoyed the fragrance of his lover. "You smell wonderful. You taste wonderful. I want you." Their eyes met. At Blair's nod, Jim opened the door and led him to the bed.

Blair whispered, "Please, Jim, make love to me."

Jim licked his lips, nodding. His nostrils flared when a new scent hit him. It was sensual, musky and very enticing. He breathed deeply, smelling Blair's sexual arousal, and it went straight into his groin. He groaned as he slowly undressed Blair, gazing at his lover's body for the first time. His eyes drank in the strong shoulders and slim waist, the hairy, firm chest with brown nipples peeking through. Jim ran his hand over his flat, furry stomach, and into the line of dark hair leading into Blair's pants. With a sigh, Jim caressed the warm skin, enjoying the feel of it slip under his fingers.

Jim slid Blair's pants and silk boxers to his ankles, pulled off his shoes and socks, and tossed the clothes haphazardly behind him. Blair was gloriously naked, now. Jim's eyes scanned Blair's full penis rising from a dark patch of hair and balls wrapped in silky skin. He was perfect, Jim realized.

Blair scooted up onto the bed, and Jim climbed next to him, unable to wait any longer to touch him. His hands explored every inch. His mouth licked and kissed everything. His hands, teeth and tongue were never still. Jim sent Blair's body into bliss and his mind into orbit.

Jim held him close as Blair's orgasm gathered and with a firm touch, sent his lover over the edge. He came hard and long, and he panted, moaned and cried out his pleasure. Jim was relentless, hardly gave Blair time to breathe. He made love to Blair like he had never made love to anyone before. Rising, Jim made a quick trip to the bathroom for something -- anything to use as a lubricant, and stripped his clothes from his body.

His eyes drank in his lover lying on the bed. Blair lay sprawled in abandon after his orgasm. He was so beautiful that Jim's breath caught in his throat. Jim had to laugh at himself. Twenty-four hours ago, the idea that he would ever sleep with a man was the farthest thought from his mind, and now here he was, hopelessly, passionately in love with Blair Sandburg. He must be insane. His entire existence as James Ellison, hard-ass cop without emotion, and lady-killer extraordinaire, went right out the window.

He climbed on the bed and gathered Blair in his arms, scooting Blair's back against his chest. He nuzzled Blair's neck and ears, kissing and sucking every inch of skin. He whispered into Blair's ear, "I want to make love to you, but I've never done this before with a man. I have some lube. Do you want to try?"

Blair's face turned to Jim's. His lips were red and swollen from Jim's rough kissing, and his face was flushed. He opened his eyes, looking at Jim lovingly though dark lashes. "Yes, please."

Jim hitched Blair's leg over his hip and lubed his fingers. He slid his hand down to rub Blair's hot opening, making his lover tremble and moan. Jim gently slid a finger inside, and after slowly rubbing and stretching, Jim added a second, and then a third finger. As Blair's hips thrust onto Jim's fingers, Jim's mouth explored Blair's neck and shoulders, kissing and nibbling the warm skin. Jim slid out his fingers, making Blair groan and shudder.

"Please, Jim. Please, please, Jim," Blair begged in a whisper, his fingers clutching the bed linens.

Jim kissed his neck and the side of his face. "Shhh. Okay. I don't want to hurt you. Relax. How does it feel?"

"Please hurry, Jim. It feels so good, so good. More, Jim, please."

Jim lubed his dick thoroughly, and slowly worked his way into Blair's hot cavity. When Blair tensed for a second, Jim caressed his hip and stomach with a slow, warm hand. "Relax. Shh. Love you, Blair. That's good. Just a little more."

Jim's patient efforts were rewarded when he was able to slide in the last inch as Blair relaxed under his ministrations. When Jim's shaft slid in, Blair's muscles contracted around it. The sensations caused Jim to tremble and moan into Blair's neck, making small love nips there. Jim knew he wouldn't last long -- the hot flesh enveloping him was almost too much for his senses to take right now. He slowly started to thrust. When Blair cried out Jim's name, he stopped and laced his fingers with Blair's.

"Chief?"

Blair's voice wavered when he said, "Just so intense! Oh, my God. What you're doing! Please, more, Jim, please. Don't stop!"

Jim started slowly, allowing the waves of pleasure washed over him like nothing he had ever felt before. He released Blair's fingers and reached down to grasp his lover's dick. Worried about harming his new lover, his trusts were deep but slow, and his trusts matched his pumping of Blair's erection. Jim felt the hot curling in his groin, and the orgasm exploded out of his shaft into Blair's welcoming body, while Blair's orgasm sent him careening over the edge once again.

Jim lay very still, breathing heavily, occasional shudders passing through his body. He slowly pulled from Blair's languid body, tenderly kissing the skin closest to his lips. Then Jim encouraged Blair to roll to his back so that he could gaze into the face of his lover.

Blair peeked at Jim through heavy eyelids. A hand caressed the side of Jim's face. "I love you, Jim." He sighed contentedly and drifted into a deep sleep.

Jim pulled him closer, as if he could crawl into Blair's skin if only he could get close enough. He kissed his sweaty forehead. "I love you, Blair." He slept also.

------------------------------------------

Several hours later, in the waning afternoon sun, Blair awoke and stretched several times. His thrashings woke his lover. Jim stretched also, smiling.

"Shower?" Jim asked.

Blair nodded and together they made their way into the large, spotlessly clean shower.

Jim laughed. "Hell, Chief, there's enough room in here for six people."

Blair laughed with Jim. They dried each other, and dressed after gathering up the trail of clothes that Jim had strewn across the floor of the apartment. Blair was sitting on the end of the end putting on his socks when Jim sat down heavily next to him.

"I have to talk to you."

"Sure, Jim, what is it?"

"I told you I was a cop."

"Yes, you did. So?"

"I was sent to the party last night to get information on your family." Jim ran his hands down his face. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but I can't lie to you. I'm in love with you. I know we just met, but it's like it was meant to be. I have to be honest. I don't know what else to do, so here it is.” Turning, Jim faced Blair and continued. “We have information regarding your family corporation and some of the ways it makes its money. We know the vineyards and the wine business are legitimate, but there's reason to believe that there are illegitimate things going on. There's something big regarding stolen property, very high ticket items, and your SI Company handles the transactions, and funnels the money"

Blair sat very still and said quietly, "So you were sent to spy on us?"

"Yes."

"And what about what's happened between -- you and me," he asked, a cold chill suddenly running down his spine.

"I never planned this. I don't know how or why it happened. I was so messed up. I couldn't control my senses. You helped me. I fell in love with you last night out in the vineyard. I can't explain it, but I need to be with you. I need you as much as I need to breathe.” Jim sighed. “I'm telling my superiors that I'm pulling out of the case today."

Blair jumped up and angrily paced. "Damn it, Jim! How could you do this to me? I thought we had something. I thought we were going to have more."

Jim rose and grabbed Blair's shoulders. "Please, Blair, hear me out. Today, when I saw you, I felt so good. Like we belonged together. Please believe me, I don't want to hurt you, and I want us to have something more." Jim's voice dropped to a whisper. "I need to have something more."

Blair breathed deeply with closed eyes. When he opened them, Jim could see the hurt in them. His throat tightened and he wanted to hold him. Instead, he waited quietly until Blair spoke.

"Jim, I want you to tell me exactly what you think is going on, and what you know. You owe me that much.” Blair turned away from Jim for a moment before he turned back to look into his lover's unhappy blue eyes. “I can't explain it, but I don't feel like you're out to hurt me. I have this -- need to help you. I have to be with you. It's too strong to fight. I, ah, I don't want to fight it, but what are we going to do?" he asked plaintively.

Jim shook his head. "I have no idea. We are so different. You have everything. I have a loft, a truck, and my gun, and that's about it."

"Please, Jim, for God's sake, don't dwell on material things! This is my life here. I don't want things, can't you understand that?" Blair took Jim's hand in his. "Jim, I want you."

"Yes, Chief, I do understand because I want you, too. Let's sit down and I'll tell you what I know."

After Jim had given Blair all the information that he had on Sandburg International, Blair was quiet for a long before he spoke.

"I need to ask you a huge favor. It will be a giant leap of faith for you."

"Anything, Blair. "

"I need some time to look into some things. Please let me do this before you do anything else. I want to know if any of this is true. Please, Jim. Can you trust me that much?"

Jim grasped Blair's hand that was picking at imaginary lint on his trousers, and pressed his lips to Blair's palm. "Take whatever time you need. You have my number. I'll wait for you to call." Jim kissed the side of Blair's face before he left.

-----------------------------------------------------

The next day, Jim was at home when his phone rang. "Ellison."

"Hello, Jim. It's Blair. I hope I'm not interrupting, but I have some news."

"How about I come and pick you up? It will be more private. Where are you?" With SI's connections, Jim wasn't taking any chances in case his phone was tapped, or he was being recorded with surveillance equipment.

"At the Japan International dojo on Admiral Blvd."

"I'll be by in about thirty minutes."

-------------------------------------------------

"Say, Jim, this is a great truck." Blair grinned from his place in the passenger's seat, admiring the green Ford F-150 extended cab. "I've always wanted a truck."

"Why don't you just buy one? I'm sure you can afford it."

Blair laughed. "It's not that easy. Mother wouldn't approve."

"Does it bother you that you aren't allowed to do what you want?"

"Sometimes. I like being alone sometimes, but that hardly ever happens. I have lots of people who depend on my actions. I'm sure Teddy is looking for me right now." Blair sighed.

"Why don't you just move out?" Jim glanced at his lover affectionately.

"Oh, my God. Move out? My mother would have me committed to the nearest mental institution, believe me. She would never allow it."

"Hello, Chief! You're a grown man. Do what you want."

"It's not that easy. I have duties and responsibilities. But hey, it's not that bad. In fact, it's pretty good, most of the time. Jim, hey, man, let's not talk about this any more. I just want to have a good time, and be with you."

"Sure, Chief."

Jim parked so they could walk along the waterfront. Blair told Jim his efforts so far. "I've started to make a few very discreet inquiries, but I have to be really careful. Mother keeps a close eye on everything. I was searching in her office office when I found several suspicious bank statements and transaction reports. It's not going to be good. My mother will be extremely upset when she finds out what I've been doing."

"Maybe we should just forget the whole thing. It could be dangerous, and you're not a cop. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I know I'm not a cop, but, damn it, Jim, this is my life were talking about here. I mean, I hate going behind her back, but she's left me no choice.” Blair's hands flew through the air, emphatically puncutating his words. “If all this is true, then I can't condone her actions, and I refuse to be part of them. I know she is my mother and I love her, but this is so -- wrong."

Jim moved closer to Blair so that their shoulders touched. "This is really rough, and I have a feeling it's going to get a hell of a lot rougher. I'll be here for you, whatever happens."

Blair glanced at Jim with sad eyes. "Thanks. That helps a lot. I couldn't do this without you, but I have to do this for myself. I couldn't live with myself if what you say is true, and not do anything about it. My conscience wouldn't leave me a moment's peace and I just can't live with that kind of cloud over my head.” Blair gave a rueful bark of laughter. “Oh, man, does that sound self-righteous or what?"

"No, it doesn't sound self-righteous. You're doing this because you're an honorable person, and I admire you a lot for it."

"Thank you, Jim, but I don't feel honorable, just sad." Blair's shoulders slumped.

Jim laid his arm across Blair's shoulders. "Come on, Chief, you can buy me a hot dog."

"Sure, Jim."

They talked as they walked and ate. Both men wanted things to be normal -- to be able to enjoy each other's company without the issues that loomed so large between them. For a few hours, they wanted to forget the outside world and concentrate on each other.

"So, Jim, are you feeling more in control about your senses?" Blair asked.

"Well, it's been just a few days, so I'm not taking any chances, and I'm keeping everything way down, but yeah, I feel like things are more in control. Since you came up with the idea of the dials, it's helped a lot. I intend to stay out of dangerous situations as much as possible for a while.” Jim gave a grimace. “I'm still worried about that zone out stuff we talked about."

Blair touched Jim's arm. "Let's try an experiment. See the flower stall two rows back?"

"Yeah."

"Try and smell the roses. You should be able to pick them out easily."

"I'll never tried to single out a smell from so many others before. There are just too many," Jim said dubiously.

"No, you can do it,” Blair said encouragingly. “Just concentrate on the roses. Remember to use a light touch and filter out the other smells."

"Okay." Jim concentrated for a few moments before he said, "Yeah, it worked! I can smell just the roses."

"That's great! I know you'll get really good at this." Blair grinned, pleased with his student's quick abilities.

Two young women brushed past the two men, one woman lightly brushing her arm against Blair's as they passed. She turned and smiled. "Excuse me."

Blair gave her a dazzling Sandburg smile in return. "It's okay." His eyes followed the women, who watched them surruptitiously, obviously interested. The women stopped to finger some scarves hanging from a booth about fifteen feet away, glancing under lashes at the two handsome men.

"Jim!" Blair pulled on Jim's sleeve. "Earth to Jim!"

Jim turned his focus to Blair. “What?"

"What are those two girls saying about us?"

"Chief, I'm not going to eavesdrop on their conversation."

"Come on. Try it just this once. They're watching us. They're interested. It's not like they are talking about something else. They're talking about us."

Jim concentrated and listened carefully before he laughed. "The one on the right said, I'll take the one with the long hair, he's adorable. The other girl said, good, I'll take the other one, he's definitely my type."

Jim shrugged while Blair laughed and his eyes sparkled. "You interested?"

Jim glanced at the attractive young ladies, then back to his lover. "I must be insane, totally insane, but no. I want to take you back to the loft and kiss you, and do lots of other things to you until you scream."

Without another word, Blair turned on his heels and strode purposefully away.

Jim shouted at him, the women quickly forgotten, "Hey, where are you going?"

Blair never slowed down, but he gracefully turned back toward Jim and walked backward as he yelled, "Back to you're place. Now."

He spun on his heels and kept going. Jim laughed as he hurried to catch up.

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Jim received the surprise of his life when they made it back to the loft. It made him grin like a fool when he thought about it later. He did not get to make Blair scream after all. It ended up being the other way around.

Blair slowly undressed Jim, playfully smacking his hand every time he tried to interfere. Jim laughed, and let Blair have his way. After Blair had Jim naked and stretched out on the bed, he stripped off own his clothes and climbed onto the next to lie next to Jim. He propped his head on his hand and openly admired Jim's body. He relished the strong shoulders and smooth, well-defined chest. He smiled as his eyes passed down Jim's taunt stomach to his erection, hard and full, rising from a patch of light brown hair. He relished Jim's muscular legs. After drinking his fill, Blair grinned and patted the bed next to him invitingly, encouraging Jim to move closer.

They pressed their bodies against each other, chest to chest, kissing passionately and deeply. Blair pushed Jim over onto his back and slid his tongue into Jim's mouth while Jim moaned and sucked, tasting his delicious Blair-flavor. Blair pulled back, looking into Jim's eyes. "Where are the dials, Jim?"

"Way down. I don't want to lose control,” Jim said, shaking his head. “It's too much to handle. I can't control the dials, concentrate on you, and on what I'm feeling at the same time."

"Turn them up, Jim. Now. Trust me. Turn them up a bit, and leave them." When Blair ran his hand down the side of Jim's face, he felt him shiver. Quietly, Blair asked, "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Jim answered, softly adamant.

When Blair leaned over and brushed his lips tenderly against Jim's, his hair fell over Jim's face. With his senses open, he could feel each individual strand as it brushed his skin. Allowing his senses free reign, he enjoyed the feel of Blair's slow, gently kisses over his face and jaw, and down his neck. The soft lips almost burned when they kissed their way back up his neck to his ear. Each kiss was deliberately light and he realized Blair was giving him to adjust to the sensations. The fingers that ran over Jim's chest were feather-light and when the nimble fingers found a hard nipple, the nails raked just as lightly over the tender skin.

Surprised that he could exercise as much control as he was, Jim felt his body respond to the wonderful touches, and he moaned and trembled under Blair's explorations. His trust in his lover filled his heart, and he allowed himself to revel in the pleasure of Blair's ministrations.

Blair's mouth placed a trail of soft kisses down Jim's shoulder and chest to suck the nipple, then to scrape his teeth gently over it several times. As Blair's lips traveled across Jim's chest to the other nipple, Jim's breathing escalated and small tremors coursed through his body.

Blair stopped his explorations and carefully studied his lover's face. His eyes were closed; he was breathing hard through his mouth with his teeth clenched.

"Jim, you doing okay? Is it too much?"

"Yes. No. God, Chief. Don't stop, please," Jim murmurred, unable to concentrate fully.

With a smile and a nod, Blair sidled back up Jim's torso; the hair on his body sent tiny shock waves through Jim's skin. Blair's mouth covered his, and when he plunged his tongue in, Jim sucked it hungrily. Blair's kisses became more demanding as he gradually applied more pressure. Moving from the kiss-swollen lips, he returned to his explorations of Jim's face and ear, licking and kissing the hot skin. Blair put his lips to Jim's ear and whispered, "I want you more than you could possibly realize."

Blair's voice was so erotic and his breath was so hot that Jim thought his ear was on fire. His entire body was alive like it had never been before. Every nerve ending was open and singing. Blair continued his slow exploration of Jim's body, giving him time to gradually adjust -- time to enjoy the new sensations. His mouth found the nipples again while his hand found Jim's shaft. Blair's hand explored the the feel of the soft skin covering the hard member, so like his own, yet so different at the same time. When he started to stroke gently, a shudder rushed through Jim's body, making him sharply suck in his breath.

Blair smiled at Jim's reactions and whispered, "You're so wonderful, Jim. Relax and enjoy the ride.” He kissed Jim's lips lightly. “I love you. Your body is fantastic. I want to touch all of you."

Unable to be silent, Blair murmured constantly as his hand stroked Jim's dick. Blair already knew his voice helped Jim, like an anchor in the ocean of sensations. He was pleased when Jim moaned again and started moving his hips in rhythm to Blair's stroking. Slowly, Blair worked his body down to rest between Jim's legs, never letting up his gently motions on Jim's shaft. His other hand stroked the delicate skin covering Jim's balls before running the tips of his fingers on the slit, gathering some of the pre-ejaculate. He touched a wet fingertip to Jim's opening, smiling when the muscles flexed at the caress and Jim moaned at the touch; his legs spread wider.

Blair's fingers caressed the cleft of Jim's ass, and with a delicate touch, he slid the sticky finger in. Carefully, he slid the finger in and out, searching until the tip brushed against Jim's prostate. The muscles contracted tightly around his finger and Jim's body shuddered; he held his breath and clenched his fists.

“Easy, Jim. Easy. Too much too fast, huh?” Blair asked quietly. “I'm right here. Dial it back a bit and relax. Can you do that, Jim?”

Jim let out a shake breath and nodded. “Wow,” he said. “That was -- intense.”

Blair rubbed the palm of his free hand on Jim's hip. "Jim, I'm right here. I love you. I love touching you. I love making love to you." Blair closely watched Jim's face until he was sure his lover had steadied himself. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Chief?”

“Yes?”

“Do that again.”

“What? This?” Blair rubbed Jim's hidden spot lightly.

“Yes! God, yes.”

“Sure, Jim. Glad to oblige,” Blair said smartly. He grabbed a nearby tube of lubricant and on the next outward stroke, he dropped a dollop onto his fingers before adding a second finger. His other hand resumed his stroking on Jim's shaft for a few moments while his fingers thrust into the hot channel. Blair was pleased to feel the muscles of Jim's body clenching his fingers, letting him know that Jim was enjoying the sensations. The other thing that let Blair know that Jim was feeling intense pleasure was that Jim was sweating freely and writhing on the bed, groaning constantly and bearing down on Blair's hand.

Suddenly, the wonderful sensations stopped. Jim raised his head and forced his eyes open. He looked down into the lust-filled eyes of his lover. Blair's lips curved into an incredibly mischevious smile.

“Blair?” Jim whispered, reaching for his own shaft that ached for release. “Please, Chief!” he begged.

Blair laughed and pushed away Jim's hand. “You are beautiful,” he said. With a loving smile, he opened his mouth and sucked the head of Jim's dick into the hot depths of his throat while his freshly-lubed fingers once again entered Jim's body and stroked his prostate.

Jim's shout filled the room. “Blair!” Jim called out, coming hard and fast into Blair's mouth.

Only when he had drained Jim's body of all he had to offer did Blair release the limp organ and press his head against Jim's thigh, trembling and moaning softly as his own climax spurted forth in hot, stringy pulses. He groaned deeply before laughing aloud in pleasure.

“God, Jim. That was fantastic!” Blair said, smiling and moving to flop down beside his sated lover.

“Yeah,” Jim managed to say.

Blair laughed again and admired his beautiful lover. Jim's face was flushed and sweaty, his short hair stood out from his head, and his eyes, when he finally managed to open them to look at Blair, were heavy with satisfaction and pleasant exhaustion. His lips were red from Blair's demanding kisses. Blair's throat closed and he almost cried; Jim was so wonderful. He, Blair Sandburg, had done this to the man he loved. With Blair's head on Jim's shoulder, and their hands clasped together, they both drifted into sleep.

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Teddy lay in wait for Blair to arrive home from work that same evening. Blair stepped through the doorway to his room with barely 45 minutes to relax, shower and change for dinner promptly at 7:00 pm. When Naomi was in the house, attendance was mandatory. Teddy gave Blair enough time to close the door before he pounced.

"Blair!"

Blair jumped, slapping his hand over his heart. "Oh, my God, Teddy, what the hell are you doing?"

"We need to talk."

"Sure, man. What about?"

"Jim Ellison."

Blair tensed. "What about him?"

Teddy's patience snapped. He clamped his hands on Blair's upper arms. "Your mother knows."

"My mother knows what, exactly?" Blair asked; his throat started to tighten.

"Blair, Kyle has been following him for the last two days. He recognized him the other night at the party from two years ago when he was busted for possession of marijuana. Jim Ellison was the cop who busted Kyle. He saw you and Ellison together in the vineyard. He saw Ellison take the penthouse elevator yesterday, and today he saw you with him at the pier. He's told your mother and she raked me over the coals for over thirty minutes. She wanted to know what I know, and she is furious that you somehow managed to sneak off to be with him. She wants to see you in her study immediately." When Blair stood quietly and made no move to protest, Teddy insisted, "Now, Blair."

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Blair knocked firmly on the door to his mother's suite.