A Momentary Advantage

"If Constance is being poisoned, perhaps she was the target all along," Miss Phryne Fisher mused, comfortably perched on Detective Inspector Robinson's desk. "The killer didn't succeed the first time and they are trying again."

Jack heard himself reply to her theory but for the life of him, he couldn't actually say with any certainty whether he made any sense. Much to his chagrin, it was getting entirely too difficult to form a coherent thought.

In fact, since she plopped herself at his side, all French perfume and softly flowing white dress, he'd been coming unglued. Dear god, he could not stop stealing glances at her knees, so close and effortlessly on display, and a mere breath away from his hungry gaze.

"…Constance swears she didn't pay her," she continued discussing the case, refocusing him back on the matter at hand. Ah, yes, Jack thought with self-directed irony, that not so inconsequential matter of a murder to solve.

He replied to her again, fairly sure he was indeed making sense, yet like a misbehaving magnet, his gaze zeroed in on her legs again. It was time to be completely honest with himself. As long as she was sitting there, too goddamned enticing to believe, his ability to concentrate would be non-existent.

As much as he enjoyed having her near, with Miss Fisher, sometimes retreat simply was the better part of valor. This was clearly one of those times because he was going to go mad if he kept thinking about sliding her in front of him, clasping her knees and dragging that dress up her thighs just to see how far those white stockings went. Resigned, he closed his file and folded his hands, giving her his best level look.

"Would you…" Jack paused for a moment, trying for a diplomatic way to say, if I have to keep looking at your legs, I won't be held responsible for my actions, and unable to come up with anything appropriate, settled for a rather blunt if polite, "get off my desk, please?"

Her gaze immediately went to his and she gave a rather sweet and innocent, "Why?"

If his palms weren't nearly sweating and his trousers embarrassingly uncomfortable, Jack might have almost smiled at the honest cluelessness in her gaze. For once, Miss Phryne Fisher was completely unaware of her devastating allure. Which only spelled trouble for him, because the woman wasn't even trying and she was making him burn.

Really, this effect she had on him was alarming, to say the least. Not to mention nearly ridiculous. He was perfectly capable—and had in fact not so long ago untied a woman's dress without missing a beat. Indeed, the sight of Angela Lombard's smooth and exposed back had garnered no more than the slightest flicker of natural male appreciation and a smirk. As he had honestly said to Miss Fisher once, he did not come undone at the sight of a little bared flesh. Yet here he sat, utterly defeated by a pair of white-stockinged knees.

And of course, she had not a clue. Or at least, she hadn't, until he looked at her directly and rasped, all attempts at subtlety gone, "Just…remove yourself, Miss Fisher."

She blinked at the unusual curtness in his tone and Jack saw the moment Phryne realized exactly what she was doing to him. Long lashes fluttering, shoulders moving in the slightest but most devastating way, she refused his clear command.

"I'm quite comfortable, thank you."

Unlike before, the innocence in her tone was now manufactured, those pretty eyes coquettish and challenging at the same time. Eyes that practically said, I dare you to get me off this desk without touching me, Jack Robinson.

Damn, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from her. The fact was, whenever she threw a challenge his way, he couldn't help but want to rise to the occasion. And he knew exactly how to get her moving without putting his hands on her.

Oh, but it was so tempting to slide his hands over her thighs up to her small waist and hold her firmly in his grip as he physically removed her himself. Unfortunately, his self control had been tested sufficiently for the day and Jack wasn't precisely sure what would happen if he actually touched her. He might just lay her out on the desk and smother her in kisses instead of removing her from it.

Without taking his eyes off her, he produced the spider from his drawer. Immediately, she was across from him. Still tempting and gorgeous, and knees on display but no longer within touching distance.

"Not fair, Jack," she said smartly, obviously not amused.

There was nothing for him to say. She was right, he hadn't played fair, using her weakness against her. But Jack didn't feel at all guilty. He'd momentarily gained the advantage but he was well aware it wouldn't last. She was his greatest weakness, after all, capable of bringing him to his knees simply by breathing.

Not fair, indeed.

Note: I'm sure my Bones peeps are going wtf!? lol. But I've recently discovered Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries and have fallen in love. I highly recommend it if you like delicious characters and even more delicious ust!

Unfortunately, the Bones muse is just really gone, so fic writing for BB seems unlikely. I had an amazing time writing for Bones and can't thank enough all of you that came along for the ride with me!