TITLE: Temporary Girlfriend (5/20)
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.

(Lindsay’s POV)

Cindy had taken her suggestion to heart. She looked hot. In fact, Lindsay had witnessed several double-takes, and more than one woman had “accidentally” brushed up against Cindy when walking by. It didn’t help, of course, that it was completely within Cindy’s nature to put her hand on said women’s arms and apologize for being in the way. So, whether or not it was a usual thing, Cindy was clearly popular with the ladies now.

And every straight guy who was working at the hotel apparently.

Lindsay really thought, though, that she would at least be spared one group staring blatantly at Cindy’s overexposed cleavage and skirt that wasn’t actually that short, but did manage to accentuate every positive aspect of Cindy’s lower body. So when two guys who were openly holding hands spotted her from a distance and kept their eyes glued to Cindy, Lindsay fought the urge to grab her by the shoulders, turn her around and walk her back to the room to put more clothes on.

Instead, she narrowed in on the two men, who had decided to make their approach, with her ‘stop staring’ death ray, which might have held them off if either man had even noticed her.

“Cindy,” one of the guys said, as they closed in.

“Jason, hey,” Cindy said, hugging him.

Lindsay found herself watching the man’s hands, just to make sure he behaved as a friend should. To his credit, and fortunately for his wellbeing, he seemed to have no problem with roaming hands. He let Cindy go and the other guy hugged her just as innocently.

“We didn’t know you were going to be here,” the guy said.

“Here I am,” Cindy said with her normal cheer.

She turned slightly, and Lindsay felt Cindy’s hand on her arm, pulling her forward.

“This is Lindsay. Linds, Mark and Jason.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Lindsay greeted, silently adding an apology for the whole death ray thing.

Mark and Jason looked at her, then at Cindy, then back at her, in unison, as if they were rehearsing some sort of miming routine.

“Ah,” Jason said, both he and his boyfriend nodding along.

Jason and Mark’s perusal of she and Cindy lasted about a minute too long, and was a million degrees of uncomfortable. Lindsay hoped for something, anything, to intervene.

“Well, we’ve got reservations, so we should get going,” Mark said suddenly. “But it was really… enlightening… to meet you Lindsay. I’m sure we’ll see you two again.”

“Have a great night,” Cindy said.

Mark leaned forward to kiss Cindy on the cheek, pausing to whisper something that made Cindy laugh, blush, and smack him on the shoulder.

“Have fun. Don’t get into any trouble,” Jason called as they walked off.

Lindsay watched the two men gravitate back together, their hands locking automatically, and realized that wasn’t such a bad idea. She reached down to thread her fingers through Cindy’s and started walking, pulling the silent reporter along.

They walked out of the hotel and the few blocks over to the restaurant where they were eating. By the time they walked in, Lindsay decided it was evidence of how badass she was that looks hadn’t lingered nearly as long, and no one else had bumped into Cindy.

After dinner, during which Cindy refused to tell her what Mark had whispered to her, two hours came and went at the opening ceremony, which was uneventful, except for a rather stunning fireworks display and five exhibitionistic guys who Lindsay was concerned she was going to have to threaten with indecent exposure arrests, compromising her cover. But Cindy saw her eyeing them, grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her away, muttering that she was there to help, not to hinder. How exactly preventing several penises from making an appearance in public was a hindrance on her part was an arguable point, but Lindsay spared herself the squabble and let Cindy lead her away.

And then onto the big event. The party. This type of location always made Lindsay tense. It was dim, there were too many people, and it was difficult to watch for suspicious behavior when everyone looked like they were after something.

“What can I do?” Cindy asked from right beside her.

The place was more than packed. Lindsay was almost positive they were busting the fire code. So, Cindy had been pressed right up against her for the better part of an hour, asking again and again for some kind of instruction.

“Stand there and look cute,” Lindsay responded, with the solitary purpose of getting a rise out of the redhead.

It could have only worked faster if Cindy had known in advance she was going to say it.

“Excuse me,” Cindy huffed. “I think I have a little more to offer than looking cute.”

“Do you?” Lindsay replied. “Have you been paying any attention to the way people have been ogling you all night?”

“You mean, like the way they’ve been looking at you?” Cindy immediately fired back.

Lindsay turned to her in disbelief, because she hadn’t actually been anticipating that response.

“Yeah,” Cindy confirmed. “I thought I was going to have to get a spatula to scrape their pupils off your ass.”

Lindsay laughed and looked back at the dance floor. She hadn’t seen anyone checking her out. She had, on the other hand, wondered if she should buy Cindy a little black book for the week. Or six.

“Come on, Linds,” Cindy pleaded. “I can do something.”

Lindsay tried to think of some trivial, unnecessary task that she could delegate to Cindy to occupy her. When Cindy ran into her hard a moment later, Lindsay thought, at first, it was some kind of punishment for not responding quickly enough. It was only when she’d regained her footing and helped Cindy stay on her feet that she realized they’d both been rammed by a bubbly, and inebriated, young blonde.

“I’m so sorry,” the girl said, reaching her hand out as if for stability.

Cindy caught the blonde’s hand in her own and put her other hand on the girl’s arm to steady her.

“Are you okay?” Cindy asked her.

The blonde smiled at Cindy, and Lindsay could actually see the decision to turn the accident into an on-purpose pass over her face.

“I’m great,” she responded to Cindy. “You wanna dance?”

“Um…” Cindy started, glancing back uncertainly.

“Go ahead,” Lindsay said.

“Are you sure?”

“You’re bored. I know that. Go have fun.”

“Okay,” Cindy said, still looking slightly unsure as she let the delighted blonde pull her out onto the dance floor.

Lindsay made another visual sweep of the club. Everyone was checked for weapons and other contraband at the door, so the likelihood that anything would happen in here was slim, but there was always the possibility.

Her eyes trailed back from the far wall and found Cindy on the dance floor. She was surrounded by other women, but none were as energized or focused on her as the blonde who’d discovered her and hauled her into the folds. Cindy seemed to have found herself an admirer.

Lindsay broke away and glanced over at the bar. Even though she was here for a specific purpose, she couldn’t help keeping an eye out for other crimes that might be committed. Parties like this were notorious for GHB, and, sadly, she doubted that changed just because men were taken out of the equation. But nobody appeared to be slipping anything into drinks. And she was starting to feel secure in the fact that they were in the clear on other things to. The doors had closed, so no one else was getting in, and everything looked normal, just your basic bunch of people drinking themselves into a stupor and dancing.

Including Cindy.

Lindsay wondered if Cindy was okay with being touched that much, because the blonde couldn’t seem to touch her enough. But Cindy must have been, since she hadn’t run screaming from the dance floor or knocked the little chippy out cold. Lindsay took one last, vigilant, look around, and gravitated toward them. It really didn’t make sense for her to stand there and let someone writhe all over her girlfriend, pretend or otherwise, and there was really no other word for what the young blonde was doing. If Cindy were a pole, the girl would have one phenomenal future as a stripper.

About halfway there, Cindy saw her coming, and appeared relieved that she was being rescued.

“Hey,” Lindsay interrupted the blonde’s wriggling with a tap on the shoulder.

“Hey,” the blonde called back.

Lindsay had to lean in close to be heard over the blaring music, and when she did, the smell of alcohol was almost strong enough to produce a contact buzz.

“You’re friend wants you.”

“Katie?” the blonde asked.

“Yeah. Over there,” Lindsay pointed off into a corner.

The blonde hopped onto her toes to try to look over the crowd, succeeding only in forcing Cindy to catch her for the second time that night.

“Sorry,” the blonde giggled and leaned in. Cindy turned her head just in time to let the incoming kiss fall on her cheek. “I’ll find you.”

She stumbled off through the crowd like a pinball. Lindsay only hoped that she would make it through the throng of people without passing out first.

“Are we leaving?” Cindy yelled over the music.

“Not yet,” Lindsay responded, sliding her arm around Cindy’s waist and pulling her closer. She put her lips by Cindy’s ear. “We should stay for another hour. Just to be safe.”

As she wrapped her other arm around Cindy’s waist, Cindy’s hands came to rest on her arms.

“Is this what you call working?” Cindy asked.

“I’m here, aren’t I? It’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure you won’t get written up or something?”

“Damn Thomas, if you don’t want to dance with me, just say so,” Lindsay grumbled.

Cindy leaned back to offer her a conciliatory smile, before closing the distance again. Her hair brushed Lindsay’s cheek and her hand slid up Lindsay’s shoulder to grasp onto the back of her neck.

Lindsay gave into the music, the sensation and the light scent of vanilla coming off her dance partner, trying to remember to occasionally scan the crowd, just to make sure everything was still kosher.

As far as assignments went, she’d had worse.