Chapter 3
The moment she walked into the bullpen, Turner knew something was different about her. He didn’t even have to open his eyes or move from his very comfortable position on the couch to realize that Watson breezed by him without so much as a look his way; quite different from the glares she's been shooting him all week.
Instantly, the advisor knew that she must have somehow found out what he's been up to these past few days. There seems to be no other explanation for why she was suddenly much less hostile towards him. He could't blame her for being so cold to him; after all he'd given her mixed signals and then shut her out just as quickly.
However, sitting on her porch that night, sharing more than just a bottle of whiskey, felt more normal and exciting to him than any soul searching or fight for revenge ever had. If spending just a few intimate hours with the feisty brunette could suddenly appeal more to him than the years he's spent hunting down his family's murderer, then there is very good reason for Turner to stay away from Detective Watson.
When he got off the couch and their eyes met through the yet to be fixed window in her office, he realized why it's been so hard to detach himself from her and what possibly contributed to the impromptu decision to finally sell his house. It had a lot to do with the owner of the curious and warm green eyes watching him across the room. No sympathy in them, just understanding.
He spent the rest of the day wondering how he could ever fight his attraction to her when she keeps looking at him like that. He didn’t get her alone until later that night.
Watson sent the entire team home after a particularly grueling case finally closed and Turner feigned sleep until Ng bids his boss good bye.
The irony of the dark office and the fact that they were probably the only two people still in the building except night security didn’t escape him. This wasn’t he best way to distance yourself from someone. Then again, Turner knew about his incapability to follow rules, even the ones he set for himself.
He made his way into Natalie Watson's office, trying very hard not to fixate on the way the light from the desk lamp illuminated her translucent skin and glimmering chestnut hair, making him want to run his fingers through both.
With such dangerous thoughts swirling in his head, Turner tried to conceal them by doing what he did best: annoying the hell out of his supervising detective.
She was so consumed with paperwork, she didn’t even notice his presence until he dropped a white cellophane bag in the middle of her desk. It not only startled her, but also made her lose her place. "Turner..." Her voice trailed off as she leans back in her chair and messages her temples, too tired to be truly frustrated with the man.
"Good evening, or should I say morning to you too, " He replied back, sitting down in the chair opposite her desk. Watson checked her watch and groans. It's only now that she was rudely interrupted that she realized its way past the acceptable time one should be at work.
Closing her eyes for a second, Watson smirked humorlessly, "I might as well not go home, huh?" She mused, noting that she'll have to be back here in just a few hours.
"Take the morning off."
Her eyes snapped up at his suggestion and Turner gave her one of his brilliant smiles, "You're acting like the world will fall apart if you do. Let someone else take the reins for once, it won't kill ya." Watson almost snorted.
"Easy for you to say, it's not like it's your job on the line."
She didn’t know why she said it, but his suggestion seemed too personal, almost too intimate, like he was concerned about her again. As much as Natalie committed herself to taking care of others, she had a hard time accepting others doing the same for her. Like right now.
"You think that just because Rodrigues turned over Red River Killer to that asshole- ..." he saw her disapproving gaze from beneath long eyelashes and corrected himself, "I mean the ever charming Detective Harper, your credibility is under question? Watson, we both know Rodrigues did it because of me and my slightly unorthodox methods of police work."
There was a hint of regret laced with mirth in his voice that almost made her forget her occupational insecurities, but he opened the can of worms and she found herself talking against her better judgment.
"It's not that. I've just never had anyone bring my professional skills under question. Having all of that happen under the watch of my old mentor, it's just... unnerving I guess. I've worked too hard." Her downcast gaze and the nervous way she fiddled with her shirtsleeves made his heart clench in a very unfamiliar way.
Up to this point, their friendship or whatever this was, consisted of Turner screwing up too close to home. He could deal with that. Watson bailing him out, and pulling him out of the deep, dark places his mind ventured to whenever something hit. Now, especially after everything she's been through, due in part to his unruly behavior, Turner could't handle watching her doubt herself or the career she'd single handedly built through hard work and dedication.
"And nothing had changed." He reassured, "I promise your work will still be here tomorrow. You have got to give yourself a break."
Natalie looked up then to find that once again Eric Turner's eyes betray everything he was feeling and it frightened her. He's usually so good at masking his inner feelings, so good in fact, that most of the time everyone around him sees only what he wants them to see.
To have him be so open with her, even when he's trying to convince her to take care of herself, is testament to feelings she might not want to confront yet. Issues that seem to haunt them both, roadblocks of their own making that won't let them be just two people with a genuine interest in each other.
She only now realized just how tired she truly was. Turner knew he won her over as soon as she sat up and stacked the remaining paperwork into a neat pile and into a folder in her drawer. Their eyes both fell on the bag in her desk.
"Aren't you going to see what I brought you?" he asked with his eyes once again retaining their whimsical glint.
"Do I want to know?" Watson quipped back, a smile tugging at her lips. Regardless, she untied the bag and when her smile grew wider, Turner knew the risk of her still being upset with him is worth it just to see her as shy and feminine as she is right now.
Watson wasn't surprised that Turner knew exactly what her favorite midnight snack was but it didn’t stop the fluttering feeling in her belly or the warmness spreading on her cheeks when she pulled out the packets of Red Vines and Kettle Corn.
"I'm not even going to ask how you knew, but I will say thank you." The woman grinned openly at him and Turner tried in vain to ignore the feelings her smile aroused. It's been a long time since he noticed someone else or something else besides his blind revenge, and right now he was glad it's her.
Silence fell over them, as Watson placed the items back in the bag and continued to clean her desk. Somewhere in the middle of her task, she thought about the man in front of her and how at ease she felt. It struck her that everything could be so normal between them when so much was left unsaid.
For now though, she wanted to enjoy the moment and revel in the fact that he stayed up while she worked, took time to pick out her favorite snack foods, and expressed a genuine concern in how she was doing.
She made a decision that most would probably think her crazy for, because Turner was still a dangerous man and she shouldn't trust him with her feelings, but she knew she had gone too far for it to matter. All she could do now is take a deep breath and hope for the best.
"Hey Turner, what's my favorite movie?" she stunned him and took a bit of pleasure in seeing a genuine look of surprise on his face.
"It's a tie, actually."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah, it's between Breakfast at Tiffany's and The Breakfast Club." He explained. A teasing smile grew on his face when he realized by the look in her eye that he was, in fact, right. "I see a pattern there," He added and Watson rolled her eyes, "I'm good aren't I?"
Watson shook her head, "Depends. Which one do you prefer?"
"Hmm, I am partial to idealistic brunettes." He said in a low voice and Watson swore the man was trying to kill her with his innuendo.
"Well then you're in luck, because I have Breakfast at Tiffany's on DVD."
"Are you inviting me over, Agent Watson?"
"Only if you say yes."
Their eyes met again in the dimness of her office and there was no denying the tension between them. The air sizzled with electricity but also uncertainty, because there was still that proverbial elephant in the room. The one they were both trying desperately to ignore as they continued playing this game. Eventually one of them will lose, but for now Turner thinks it's just too much fun.
It was so easy to lose himself in the depths of her eyes and the radiance of her smile that he didn’t even care about the consequences, at least not at the moment.
"Like I said," His voice trailed off as he leaned over her desk, his face so close she could smell the faint remnants of his cologne, "blushing brunettes are sort of my thing." Then he stepped out of her office, promising to be at her apartment in 20 minutes.
She paired their movie snacks with two bottles of beer and they settled in cozily on her couch, a light duvet draped over their laps. Watson tried to ignore the way Turner rested his arm casually over the back of the sofa, his fingers gently tangling in her hair, sending goose bumps down her spine.
She was sure the sugar content in both the candy and the popcorn would keep her up at least until her favorite part in the movie. Half an hour into the film, Watson found herself dozing off, barely able to keep her eyes open.
The next thing she knew, she felt herself being lowered onto the pillow, and despite how incredible it felt to finally relax and give into sleep, Watson registered the absence of the man beside her and opened her eyes, only to find him leaning beside the couch, draping the blanket over her.
"You fell asleep", He whispered, his face mere inches away from hers, and she didn’t want to move. Her eyes closed for a moment, and she reveled in the feel of his breath against her cheek.
Turner wasn't sure what was guiding his action but he wasn't questioning himself for once. He didn’t think as his touch lingered on the blanket covering her body or when he swiped the bangs from her forehead. She watched him through half open eyes, making him think about what she'd look like after a night spent anything but sleeping. He pictured how her hair would look fanned across the pillow and how her skin would feel as soft as he's imagined countless times.
When she made a purring sound in her half-conscious state, it sent shivers down his spine so intense, the urge to kiss her almost overpowered him.
Luckily, Watson managed to save him yet again, "I heard what you did." She said quietly, her eyes cast down, betraying the hurt she feels for him not telling her and allowing her to continue being upset with him.
"You did?" He asked again, his urge to kiss her was replaced by the sudden need to conceal himself and his insecurities. At least he didn’t have to worry about wanting to take her clothes off.
"I'm proud of you," Watson explained and Turner found that he was wrong yet again. He still wanted to take her clothes off and now he wanted to hug her too. He wanted to hold her and find a way to thank her for reigniting the desire in him to live and experience things again. Something even as small as sharing a beer and a pack of artificially flavored candy with his pretty and devoted colleague. That's what Natalie Watson did to him, made him want to live and maybe get some joy out of that life.
It was scary, completely new, and probably even a bit irresponsible, but it was more appealing than spending sleepless nights staring up at a ceiling marred by memories of his past. That part of his life was one he desperately needed to put behind him.
Watson saw nostalgia, guilt, despair, and pain flash across his face in succession. She knew from the way his lip twitched and the way his hand paused right over her cheek that he wanted to kiss her. It didn’t escape her that even the elusive Eric Turner could't hide from a woman's intuition.
Despite her desire to be claimed by this man, she didn’t want it to come out of his desperation to forget about his past. She didn’t want him to regret it and she knew he would if this was the outcome of him trying to forget.
The cool metal of his wedding band pressed against her cheek reminded her that there is a world out there behind her closed door. Once again, Natalie let herself be the one to clean up after Turner had taken it a step too far and been a bit too reckless with both of them.
"You should go." She whispered against his lips and Turner didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed, "it's late," Watson added, sitting up and stretching. His eyes caught the exposed skin of her stomach and he sucked in a breath, definitely relieved that she stopped them before things got out of hand.
He would never forgive himself for taking advantage of the woman in front of him. She didn’t deserve to be a distraction to him.
No, a woman like his Watson deserved to be kissed, when there is nothing on his mind but the texture of her skin and the smell of her perfume.
"Yeah," He murmured, taking one last indulgent look at the sleepy woman in front of him.
"Let me walk you out." She said, pushing off the covers and Turner felt a bit useless as she walked him to the door. She looked so domestic, so inviting, like if he wrapped his arms around her and buried his head in her neck she could help erase every bad memory and every haunting feeling.
It scares him because he realized that she could be the anchor he's been unconsciously searching for. Someone to steady him and help him through everything, maybe even save his sanity.
He mouthed her name, and pulled her close to him, crushing her small, soft body against his rougher frame trying to absorb her warmth and commit her smell to memory. He knew it would follow him into his dreams.
She didn’t fight him, but wrapped herself around him like she was trying to drink all of him in, indulging in the opportunity to feel him closer without infringing upon him. When they pulled apart, her heart was beating so wildly she was sure he could hear it.
The intensity of his blue gaze didn’t waver as she stood rooted in place, debating whether she wanted him to leave at all. "You need to sleep." He stressed, as if trying to convince them both that he really shouldn't stay.
"Yea, I do." Watson nodded and Turner walked to the door, not expecting her to be strong enough to follow him.
When he stepped onto the porch and turned around to see her leaning against the doorframe, he could't help himself in reaching out to run his fingers across her cheek.
It had never been more difficult to walk away as it was at the moment, but eventually she just smiled and chuckled softly at their reluctance to part, "Get outta here Turner, I'll see you in a couple hours."
She touched his shoulder to playfully push him out the door and he grasped her small hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"Sleep well, dear Watson," he smiled at her with his entire face, especially his playful eyes and the tension seemed to evaporate. She noticed the sun begin to rise and it was almost as if they were back to their old selves as the shroud of night dissolved.
She watched as he retreated to the parking lot and when the blue car is far in the distance, she shut the door.