TITLE: Temporary Girlfriend (2/20)
PAIRING: Lindsay/Cindy
DISCLAIMER: Women’s Murder Club does not belong to me. The characters do not belong to me. They are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. I have no problems with that as long as I can borrow them for short bursts and use them in pursuit of my own enjoyment. I am not trying to infringe. Though, I don’t know why anyone has a problem with fan fic. After all, it really is a compliment. If anyone wants to write fan fiction about my book, feel free.

(Cindy’s POV)

Wine as promised?

Check.

A list of what she needed to remember to ask Lindsay?

Check.

DVDs?

Check.

A deep understanding that Lindsay was totally going to kill her for this?

Check.

Cindy knocked on the door with a series of taps she liked to think of as her special knock. Lindsay opened it a moment later, drying her hands on a dishtowel, and Cindy held out part of her offering.

“You brought wine,” Lindsay said, taking the bottle from her hand.

“I said I would.”

“I bought a lasagna. It’s in the oven.”

Lindsay motioned her in and closed the door after her, before walking off into the kitchen.

“Hey Martha,” Cindy greeted, taking a seat on the sofa.

Martha glanced up at her, but was apparently feeling too lazy to actually get up and interact.

Before Lindsay’s return, Cindy shoved the extra bag she’d brought under the edge of the sofa. She was trying to perfect her innocent school girl look when Lindsay walked back in, sat down beside her and handed her a glass.

“Thanks,” Cindy said.

“Thank you,” Lindsay said back. “I never splurge on the good stuff.”

“Actually I just went to another wine shop and told them I was getting married again.”

“Wow, you have really used that trick well since you learned it.”

Cindy couldn’t tell if Lindsay was appalled or impressed.

“Who knew that even strangers are munificent when there is marriage involved? They told me to drink it with my betrothed as usual. Cheers, Love.”

She clinked her glass against Lindsay’s. Lindsay shook her head, but couldn’t hide the smile.

So, impressed then.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Cindy started. “I get why you asked me instead of Jill or Claire.”

“And that reason is?” Lindsay queried.

“My inherent sex appeal.”

She didn’t know whether to take Lindsay’s near snorting of wine out her nose as an insult on her attraction factor or a compliment on her brilliant sense of humor.

“Actually I assumed it’s because of my contacts within the community.”

“They will help,” Lindsay acknowledged. “Plus, your inherent sex appeal.”

Lindsay smiled slyly over at her.

So, a compliment then.

“You do know we’re going to run into a lot of people who will recognize me though, right?” Cindy asked.

“Right,” Lindsay said, with a sudden look of disappointment. “They’re going to know that you’re not a lesbian.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Cindy corrected. “I actually anticipate a lot of slight nods and ‘ah’s.”

Lindsay looked as if she wanted to, but she didn’t utter the question that was begging to be asked. Instead, something at Cindy’s feet caught her eye.

“What’s that?”

Cindy cursed herself for not hiding the other part of her offering more effectively. She hadn’t actually planned on unveiling it until Lindsay had slightly more wine in her system.

“I just brought some movies,” Cindy shrugged, trying to play it off.

“You want to watch movies? I thought we were discussing strategy.”

“We are. They’re… uh…” Cindy tiptoed. “They’re gay movies.”

She tried to avoid Lindsay’s stare.

“Why did you bring gay movies?”

“To, you know, help… you,” Cindy whispered the last word and struggled not to put her hands over her head and cower.

“Why is everyone so convinced I need help being gay?” Lindsay asked disbelievingly.

“I don’t know,” Cindy shrugged. “Maybe because you’re so narrow?”

“Narrow?” Lindsay echoed, leveling her with the look. “What the hell does that mean?”

“As in narrow…” God, she was going to get whacked. “… minded.”

“Is that what you all think?”

“No?”

Cindy could barely glance over at Lindsay. When she did, she was afraid that she truly was going to get whacked.

“No. It’s just… Linds, you’re a little… straight-laced.”

Why did she feel like she was apologizing?

“I am not straight-laced,” Lindsay used her forceful voice, and set her wine glass down on the table with a thump.

But, while Cindy was definitely anxious, as she often was in Lindsay’s presence, she wasn’t just going to be intimidated into concord either, especially when Lindsay was so obviously full of crap.

She set her wine glass down next to Lindsay’s on the coffee table and turned toward her.

“So, this playing gay thing isn’t going to be a problem for you?” she challenged.

“No.”

“At all?”

“No.”

“What if we have to hold hands?”

“Okay.”

“Nuz-zle?” Cindy deliberately divided the word into two highly-stressed syllables.

“O-kay.” Lindsay divided her word back.

Cindy held Lindsay in her stare of incredulity, trying to make the stoic inspector crack like a walnut.

“Kiss?”

“Fine,” Lindsay responded, clearly exasperated.

Mostly in an effort to prove Lindsay’s alleged narrow-mindedness, Cindy grabbed the front of Lindsay’s shirt, pulled her forward and kissed her. She was expecting Lindsay to pull away hurriedly and to have a good laugh at her expense. What she wasn’t expecting was the sudden release of fire through her veins the moment their lips touched. What she really wasn’t expecting was for Lindsay to put her arms around her, pull her closer and take the kiss from something somewhat innocent to something else entirely.

Lindsay’s tongue ran across her lower lip and Cindy parted her lips, certain that Lindsay wouldn’t have the guts to take it any further. But Lindsay’s tongue slid over hers and she felt herself being pushed back into the corner of the couch, Lindsay’s weight pressing down on top of her. Lindsay was trying her best to prove she was into this make out session, and she was doing a fine job of it. Cindy was seriously close to letting her hands roam freely when Lindsay finally pulled away and stared down at her, a smirk on her face.

“Gay enough for you?”

“That… was a little gay,” Cindy conceded, trying to catch her breath.

Lindsay moved away, freeing her, and Cindy shakily sat up, avoiding Lindsay’s gaze, and tried to keep her hand from shaking as she reached for her glass.

And apparently so am I, she thought, tossing the remainder of her wine back in one gulp.