Body Count by P.D. Martin Page A

there?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œFor work or pleasure?”
    â€œWork.”
    â€œBureau? Air force?”
    â€œAir force. I was stationed at Hickam Air Force Base for a few months.”
    â€œWhich island is it on?”
    â€œOahu. Right next door to the Honolulu Airport.”
    â€œNice.”
    â€œIt’s not a bad work location.” He smiles.
    I imagine kissing Marco. Kissing Josh Marco. But the spell is broken when the waiter puts down our meals.
    The first few mouthfuls are eaten in silence, and hurriedly. We’re both starving after the workout. But it’s more than that.
    I keep eating, keep my head down, afraid to look up. Afraid of Josh. Why am I so nervous? I’m being ridiculous.
    I look up. “How’s your risotto?”
    Josh maintains eye contact and smiles. “Good. Do you want some?” He pushes his plate slightly toward me and I take a forkful.
    I return the gesture. “Gnocchi?”
    â€œSure.”
    He pierces one piece of gnocchi with his fork, pops it into his mouth and follows it with some wine, all the while holding my gaze.
    â€œSo, what did you do in Honolulu?” I say, trying to hide my nervousness.
    â€œNothing much. Training missions mostly. And some real missions too.” He pauses.
    â€œOh, right. This is the ‘if I tell you any more I’ll have to kill you’ moment.”
    He takes a sip of wine. “Something like that.”
    I narrow my eyes, unable to tell whether Josh is dramatizing or if perhaps he really was involved in some top-secret missions when he was in the air force.
    â€œNothing more to say on the subject?” I pursue it.
    â€œNot much more to tell.” He takes some more risotto, grinning in between chewing.
    Bastard is enjoying the secrecy. I won’t give him the satisfaction of asking him about it again. My stubborn streak takes over.
    He breaks the silence. “So, run me through the D.C. case.”
    I’m reluctant to fill our first date with shoptalk, but I’m too nervous to think of a better topic. We spend the rest of the meal talking about the D.C. murders and trying to come up with something new. But there’s nothing new to be found. Not yet. We’re still waiting on forensics from the park, of course. Maybe Marty will find something.
    We’re drinking coffee when another moment of awkwardness interrupts our conversation. Looking at Marco, silent, I’m suddenly acutely aware of the fact that it’s been over seven months since I’ve had sex and every inch of me is tingling in anticipation of what might happen tonight. My resistance is falling by the wayside. Myfeelings for Josh are undeniably powerful. And Sam’s right—I’ve always felt this way about him.
    We pay the bill, with only scattered conversation. No plans are verbalized and out in the cold air my defensive wall starts to rebuild itself. But Josh is too quick, and he grabs my hand, holding it gently. The wall crumbles.
    â€œJosh?” But instead of voicing my concerns, silence falls and once again our bodies move closer. I smell the familiar scent of Josh’s aftershave, Acqua de Gio, and I like it. He presses his hand into the small of my back and leans down until our lips meet. It’s gentle, hesitant at first. I move myself closer into him and put my arms around his neck as we kiss again, this time parting our mouths. Again, it’s gentle, tentative, hesitant on both our parts. Then the third kiss is more intense and overtly sexual. Our bodies are pushed close against one another as we kiss again.
    â€œWow,” Josh says.
    I nod, happy that we’re both feeling the same thing. I’d forgotten how wonderful first kisses are—I was with Matt for seven years, after all.
    â€œWant a ride home?” Josh says.
    But we both know that isn’t the real question. My car’s around the corner, just like his.
    I hesitate, my head fighting my heart and