Harley took one look at Jane as she and Booth came out of Moon Bug 9 and said, “Somebody got laid.”

Jane felt her face heat up. Booth grinned.

“Harley, stop it. You’re embarrassing her,” Octavio chided, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Is he any good?” he asked in a stage whisper.

Her face got even hotter and Octavio grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Then, as the Gaydies congratulated Booth and even high fived him, Jane learned to her amusement that even when you had a mixture of straight and gay men, they still upheld and celebrated the Brotherhood of the Penis.

In the boathouse they found about fifty people. Many of them were decked out in 50s garb, probably thanks to Everett’s costume collection. Jane was wearing black capris, a striped sleeveless blouse tied at the waist with a knot, and some ballet flats. An orange scarf at her neck added some flair. The Gaydies were all decked out. Everett, Frasier and Harley wore the same basic outfit—shorts, a lightweight summer shirt, and knee socks—but with some variation in color and pattern. The socks especially made Jane giggle. Octavio had on a blue dress with the classic form-fitting bodice and voluminous circle skirt, plus matching gloves.

To Jane’s disappointment, the dancing lesson turned out not to be for swing dancing, something she’d always wanted to learn how to do. Those moves where the man tossed and spun his partner around like a ragdoll looked like so much fun. Instead, they were to learn “The Madison.”

“In case you’re not familiar with it,” the instructor said, “the Madison was an iconic dance of the time. It’s a ‘called dance,’ in which there is a regular back and forth step you do until the caller tells you something different.”

“Like square dancing?” someone asked.

“Very much like square dancing. For instance, instead of a do-si-do or the promenade, we’re going to learn moves like the double cross, the Jackie Gleason, the Rifleman, and my personal favorite, the Basketball with Wilt Chamberlain.”

“Those dance move names are funny,” Jane said. “This is going to be so much fun.”

Booth frowned. “It’s going to be a joke.”

“Booth, you keep saying you’re a bad dancer, but you’re an athlete. That’s the definition of coordinated.”

People, more fans obviously, were catching his eye and waving and he plastered on a smile and waved back.

“There’s a difference between being athletic and being coordinated,” he said. “On the ice, I’m good. On the dance floor…” He shook his head and exhaled hard. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“Do the ritual,” she suggested.

“The ritual?”

“You know, breathe, relax…”

“Oh, that ritual. No. I do that before high stress activities, like hockey games.”

“You look pretty stressed to me,” she said.

“Very funny.”

Jane had a lot more fun than she’d expected and she felt guilty about the fact that Booth had been right. He was a terrible dancer. It wasn’t obvious at first, because everyone was learning, but as time went on, she noticed he wasn’t catching on. He was constantly a couple of beats behind everyone else. He was trying. He really was, but even with Jane’s help and the Gaydies encouragement, he had a tough time. Some of the hockey fans came closer and were joking around with him, teasing him, but one woman got downright nasty.

“Huh,” she’d said. “Not much better off the ice as you are on it.”

Booth laughed politely. “It’s true. I’m no Fred Astaire.”

“You’re no Patrick Roy either.”

Jane didn’t know who Patrick Roy was, but it didn’t matter. This woman had the nerve to belittle Booth here when he was ostensibly on vacation.

Booth had a patient grin on his face, but a rush of white hot anger flared inside Jane and, fists clenched, she turned to the woman, intent on giving her a piece of her mind.

“Hey,” Jane said. “Where do you get off talking like that to him?”

Booth tapped Jane on the shoulder but she ignored him as the woman looked Jane up and down. “What do you care? Are you a loser Barracuda fan?”

“Jane, come on.” Booth closed a hand over her shoulder and she shrugged it off. People were starting to notice something was going on.

“I’m not much of a hockey fan at all,” Jane said, “not that it’s any of your business or even relevant to this conversation.”

“Then you’re stupider than I thought.”

“I’d rather be stupid than a vicious little b—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Booth said, wrapping an arm firmly around her waist and leading her away. Jane gave the woman a parting glare.

“I had a lot more to say to her,” she muttered angrily.

“I know, tiger. I just didn’t want to watch it come to blows.”

“I wouldn’t have…” She reconsidered. “Okay, maybe I would have.”

They were on the porch outside the boathouse. Booth grabbed them both water bottles from the cooler that sat near the door. It was ice cold and went down easy.

“She made me so mad,” Jane said. “Does that happen often? Random strangers insulting you to your face?”

He shrugged. “No. Not too much in person. On social media? Every moment of the day, someone’s heckling me.”

“I don’t know how you tolerate it.”

“People don’t heckle you on your blog?”

“Oh sure, every once in a while. I just block them from commenting.”

“If I did that, I’d be spending all my time blocking. Honestly, it’s part of being a pro athlete. You learn not to take it personally.” He took another swig of water. “Besides, the lady did have a point. I suck at dancing.”

Jane gave him a sidelong glance. “I kind of have to agree. I thought you were exaggerating, but you do really suck.”

“Please say I don’t have to do it anymore,” he begged. “Please.”

“All right. Fine.”

“Thank God.” His shoulders sagged with relief. “Do I still get the kiss?”

“What kiss?”

“You promised me a kiss if I went to the dance lesson.”

She cocked her head at him. “Tell you what. I think you deserve more than a kiss for what you went through.”

“Damn straight. I deserve the whole kit and caboodle.”

“You got the whole kit and caboodle. Twice,” she pointed out.

He grinned. “I want it again,” he said, pulling her close.

So did she. She was already getting wet just from thinking about it. But she couldn’t grope his ass in a public place.

“It’s crazy, Jane. I feel like we’re teenagers again. Twice in one day isn’t enough.”

“I know. I feel the same way.”

They looked at each other. Jane bit her lip as Booth grinned.

“Last one back to the cabin is a rotten—” he started to say, but Jane was already off and running.

* * *

The next morning, Booth woke to the sound of low voices. It was probably one of the Gaydies, trying to convince Jane to join them in some early morning activity. He hoped Jane told them to go away. The only early morning activity Booth wanted to participate in was sex. In fact, if it were up to him, their whole day would consist of sex. And food. He had to keep his strength up, after all.

But it wasn’t one of the Gaydies. It was a woman at the door.

“Good morning. I hope it’s not too early. I just had to bring you the latest love note. This one came with pictures.”

Love note?

“They’re not love notes,” Jane said in a low tone. She only had the door open a few inches.

“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” the woman replied with a light laugh. “Also FYI, I haven’t read any of them except for the first one. Now, as soon as I see it’s from him, I just print it, fold it and stuff it in an envelope.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Jane closed the door with a sigh.

“Ahem. What was that about?” Booth asked.

Jane gasped as she turned around, thrusting the envelope behind her back. “Oh, you’re awake.”

“Yep. What’s that?” he asked.

“What’s what?”

“The letter you have behind your back.”

“Oh. It’s…it’s nothing,” she said, clearly flustered.

He gave her a look. “Jane. I heard you talking.”

“You eavesdropped?”

“You were only fifteen feet away.”

She walked to the trash can and flung the unopened envelope into it with force. “My ex-boyfriend keeps sending me notes because he doesn’t want to accept that we’re done.”

“Done as in you broke up?”

“Yes.”

“When did you break up?”

She looked uncomfortable. “Last week.”

“Last week?” Jesus. “You broke up with him last week? I asked you when we had coffee if you were involved with someone.”

“And what did I say?”

He cast around his memory of that conversation and found nothing.

“Exactly,” she said. “I dodged the question.”

“Because you were still together.”

She made a face. “Just barely. Look, I don’t understand why you’re so angry about this. I didn’t lie to you. I just…I didn’t feel like sharing my whole life story with you. It was just coffee, you know? As far as I was concerned we were just catching up.”

He relaxed a little. “Okay. I can buy that. Can you tell me about him now though?”

After thinking about it, she slowly shook her head. “No. It’s not relevant.”

“How long were you together?”

“About a year.”

“Shit. A year?” He threw the covers back and got out of bed. “That’s a long time, Janie.”

He went into the bathroom, turned on the shower, paused a minute to brace himself and got right in. Fuck. The water was like fucking run off from Whistler Mountain. He broke out in gooseflesh all over and his balls practically leapt into his body, but he needed this physical shock to distract him. More than that, he needed details. He wanted to know everything about this guy so he could size him up and see if he was real competition. Maybe he was better looking. Or smarter. Maybe his job didn’t require him to constantly be on the road. Every doubt Booth harbored about himself rose up, making him wonder if he’d seriously misjudged the situation and his chances with Janie.

She came into the bathroom and he ignored her. He was busy enjoying the increasingly warm water coming out of the showerhead.

“Booth, don’t be this way.”

“I think I have a right to be upset. I’m your damned rebound guy, Jane.”

“No you’re not,” she said. “I swear to you, you’re not.”

He wanted to believe that. It hadn’t felt like that yesterday. Yesterday, it had seemed like they’d reconnected on so many levels—not just sexually either. They’d revisited a lot of good memories and reminded each other just how fantastic that summer had been before he’d fucked it all up. And now he finds out he might be just a distraction for her. Something to help her get over the collapse of a year-long relationship.

A moment later, she was pushing the shower curtain back and joining him. Of course she was naked.

“Booth, I’m sorry.” She placed a kiss on his lips and he tried to remain immune to it. It didn’t work.

He grunted his reply, even as his cock got harder and harder.

“I probably should have told you about this, but honestly, I just want to put all of the past year behind me. It’s over and done with. I haven’t opened the last two letters from him and I’m not going to.” She squeezed his shoulders. “I’m here with you, Booth. It’s just you and me and that’s the way I want it.”

He wanted to believe her. She sounded so sincere and as far as he knew, she’d never lied to him. Also, she was pressing her soft, curvy body to his and making it difficult to do anything but react. All that beautiful wet skin, that lush mouth, those luscious heavy breasts…

Her arms crept up around his neck and she kissed him. “We’re here, right now, together,” she said between kisses. “Let’s not waste it.”

She kissed him again, coaxing him, her fingers sliding into his wet hair and he surrendered to it with a groan. God, this was the way it was supposed to be, him and Jane and what they made each other feel. That guy she’d dumped could write all the letters he wanted and it wouldn’t matter. He felt it in his bones.

The shower was just barely big enough for the two of them. They stood there in each other’s arms, tasting, licking, squeezing, caressing.

“Jane, you’re so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He laid a trail of kisses across her cheek to her ear. “I love how soft you are, how there are no hard edges. You’re all woman, every inch of you.”

She stilled and leaned away.

“Hey, what’s wrong? What did I say?”

“Nothing. It’s just…you’re so perfect. You’re literally perfect, pure muscle and bone with not an ounce of fat on you. It’s disgusting and amazing at the same time. I don’t even want to tell you what my BMI is.”

All he’d wanted to do was give her a compliment and get her all wet and ready for him. Everything he’d said was the truth, but instead he’d somehow made her self-conscious and defensive. Obviously, this was one of her vulnerable spots, but he didn’t mind. She just needed a little extra reassurance. In time, he was sure he could convince her when he looked at her, he didn’t see flaws. He just saw Jane. She was truly beautiful to him, but she was so much more than her body parts.

He pulled her close again, kissed her soothingly. “Hey, what happened to the confident woman I saw strut the catwalk in her underwear?”

She looked up at him and then away. “She’s right here, I guess. It’s just sometimes…” She sighed. “There’s something about being with you that makes me more self-conscious. Maybe it’s the fact that we’re naked. I don’t have any clothes to cover up the parts I don’t like.”

“Jane, honey, I get that you have parts of your body that you don’t like. I think that’s something that’s wired into women, but you don’t have to worry about that with me. Naked or clothed, I love all your parts. All of them. You’re perfect. Honestly.”

Finding her mouth, he kissed her reassuringly. Her arms crept around him and he felt her relax again. What a mystery she was. Just when he thought he knew a truth about her, like she was comfortable with her body because she modeled underwear at a fucking fashion show, she revealed another layer of herself he hadn’t known was there and he was grateful she trusted him enough to share things like this with him. This meant her shields were coming down. You didn’t expose your weaknesses to enemies, for fear they’d stab you there. Was this a sign she’d truly forgiven him? He hoped so because the more time he spent with her, the more strongly he felt he couldn’t afford to fuck this up a second time. His feelings for Jane had deep roots, roots that had woven their way into and around his heart and if she decided she no longer wanted anything to do with him, again, he’d probably emotionally bleed out.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by the feeling of her hand curling around his cock. She used a firm grip as she caressed the shaft and he shifted his hips to get some friction going.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he said. It felt more than good. It felt fucking amazing. He wanted nothing more than to spin her around, and using what meager light there was, find the entrance to her pussy and shove his cock inside her. But then it would all be over too soon and he didn’t want that. No. He wanted to prolong this as long as possible.

“You’re going to love this, then,” she said.

His heart stopped for a moment. Did she mean…?

As she got down on her knees right in front of him, he realized she did mean. She was about to go down on him for the very first time. Fuck!

She gave him a light kiss on the tip. Shit. It was happening. He held his breath and watched her do it again. She rubbed the head over her velvety cheek, then across her lips, under her chin and then came full circle, brushing it against the other cheek.

Take it in your mouth, for the love of God, woman.

She didn’t. She started pressing kisses all up and down the shaft, licking him, nuzzling his balls. He felt like he was on the brink of insanity. It took a lot of effort not to grab her head and ram himself between her lips. He wanted nothing more than to sink into her hot mouth and feel that exquisite suction.

And then she parted her lips and took him inside. Fuuuucck. His knees almost buckled. It felt better than he’d imagined it would. He watched as his cock slowly entered her mouth, sliding wetly between her plump lips. She didn’t take him very deeply, but he didn’t care. Every nerve ending in his cock was on sensory overload. She stroked his taint with her fingertips and he groaned.

“Jane, honey, it’s so good.”

She responded by increasing the suction, moving her head a little farther down, taking more of him. Fuck. The sweet agony was killing him. His entire consciousness was focused on what was going on below his waist. He was seconds away from losing his load. He could feel it. He couldn’t let that happen.

Drawing on some unknown bank of strength, he laid a gentle but firm hand on her head and pulled away. His cock slid out of her mouth and the abrupt loss of sensation made him groan.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing. Fuck.” He closed his own hand around himself to stave off his orgasm. “I was about to…I don’t want to come yet.” His voice sounded rough even to him.

“Booth, I want you to come in my mouth.”

Fuck. Those words alone brought him to the edge again.

“Jane…”

She leaned toward him but he moved until his back was against the tiled wall of the shower.

“I’ll be useless to you if I do that.”

She caressed his ass and squeezed. “Please. I want to do this for you.”

Booth tried to stay strong. He honestly did, but as her lips touched his aching prick again, his hand fell away from her head and he gave in. Fuck. His entire being was focused on her mouth closing over him, the wet swipe of her tongue, her soft and satisfied moan. It didn’t take long for him to climb right back up to the edge, hover there for an agonizing moment, then explode.

He barely had time to warn her before he shot his wad into her mouth with long, pulsing contractions. Pleasure coursed through his body. For long moments he was aware of nothing but the rapture of climaxing, but eventually he returned to himself. Her hands were skimming over his flanks and ass as she milked him of the last drops of his come.

His legs felt as shaky as if he’d just completed a Herb Brooksian bag skate. He had to lean against the tile for support, as she rose, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him on the lips.

“Holy shit, Jane,” he said hoarsely. “That was the best fucking shower of my whole life.”