"Or ask if it's hot enough for you?"

"Oh yes." He ran his hand through his hair, the damp tendrils clinging to his scalp. "That's a favorite."

"Did your meeting actually finish early, or did they show mercy?"

"Well, I think they thought it would be bad form for the majority of the oncology specialists on the east coast to all end up in the hospital with bad cases of heat stroke, so they took pity on us." He glanced over at her, careful not to let his eyes linger as they swept over her, taking in her emerald green swimsuit. The cut was modest, but provocative, promising more than it actually gave you. "You?"

"We actually finished early, but I think that was because half of the administrative contingent was in another meeting wondering if they could sue the hotel for breech of contract or false advertising. Apparently there was some brouhaha about the fact that they promised comfortable, air conditioned meeting rooms."

"House is right. Everybody lies." Wilson nodded toward the pool. "Have you been in?"

"No. Up until about five minutes ago, it was filled with splashing, half-drunk oncology specialists and administrators who were acting as if it was suddenly time to catch up with all the stuff they missed in college while they were studying pre-med." She sighed, the movement bringing his eyes back to her swimsuit and the cut that hinted very broadly at her breasts. "Fortunately happy hour started, and they decided they'd rather be in hot rooms with cold drinks than out here." She adjusted her sunglasses, sliding them down her nose to look at him. "Are you going in?"

"Well, the alternative is sitting here and sweating." He reached behind him and grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. "You're welcome to join me. I promise I have no intention of reverting to a splashing, half-drunk pre-med student."

"Got all that out of your system, have you?"

He got to his feet and adjusted the waistband of his red swim trunks. He shrugged and smiled back at her just before diving in. "You'll just have to find out."

Cuddy leaned forward, watching Wilson's dark figure cut a swath through the water. She looked around then grabbed her drink, downing the last dregs of the glass before standing, setting her glasses on the table between their chairs. Wilson swam back toward her and rested his arms on the side of the pool, hissing at the burning concrete.

"Coming?"

She walked up to him, her toes brushing the damp hair on his arms. She smiled and raised an eyebrow, pushing off over him and slicing into the water behind him in a clean arc. She could hear his whistle in the seconds before she sank beneath the surface, the sound fading just as she came up for air. "Christ, it's cold."

Wilson turned, his eyes dropping down to the water level and her breasts. "Yeah."

She let her eyes drop even further to the fluttering fabric around his legs. "Yeah."

"Ouch." He dropped beneath the water and pushed off, swimming to the opposite end of the pool. "You know," he called back to her, "the cold is a compliment to a woman."

"Is that what you tell your wife when she catches you scanning for nipples?"

"Just another advantage to air conditioning." He laughed and swam slowly back toward her. "How much longer are you here?"

"In the pool? I would imagine that would depend on how long you plan to stare at my breasts?" She bent her head back and let the water straighten her hair into a shimmering black mass. "At the hotel? Another two days assuming they get the air conditioning fixed."

"If I apologize for displaying my baser male instincts, will you let me buy you dinner tonight?"

"I don't know. If you make the chefs cook in the sweltering kitchen, you're likely to wind up with something questionable in your food. I was thinking I'd raid the mini-bar." She caught her hair in one thick, ropy strand and twisted it, the arch of her back accenting her breasts again. She ignored his gaze and dropped her hair and her arms. "I'm attributing the baser male instincts to the fact that you spend an inordinate amount of time with Greg who, for all his higher education, is the stunted emotional age of a 12 year old boy."

"Is that a yes?"

She grasped the side of the pool and levered herself out as he drifted over, grasping the edge and holding it on either side of her legs. "Room 1149." She ran a finger along his chin. "Bring your mini-bar."

Wilson turned the shower knob all the way to cold and then adjusted the power before aiming the head directly at his waist. He was certain that the elevator ride had been a test drive for the ride to hell between the heat that hung thick in the air and the heat that was pooling in his groin. He didn't question what he was doing. He knew colleagues that treated these conferences as a means to sow wild oats away from the safety of their families. He'd met his second wife at one of these conferences - while he was still married to his first wife. But Cuddy was different, he reminded himself. And not just because she was his boss.

He adjusted the shower head again, bringing the blast up to his face. What wasn't wet from the shower was wet with sweat. Humidity blanketed everything, oppressive enough that it hurt to breathe. He snapped off the shower - the cold wasn't doing any good to relieve the heat or his arousal - and grabbed his towel, stepping out and staring at himself in the slightly fogged mirror.

"Drinks," he reminded himself. "Food. That's it." He toweled himself dry, despite the fruitlessness of the gesture and pulled on a short-sleeved white shirt and khaki shorts. The clothes glued to his body and he tucked the shirt in then pulled it free. He leaned on the counter and stared at himself more closely. "That's it."

He left the bathroom and grabbed his room key and the canvas bag of goodies he'd liberated from his mini-bar before his reflection laughed any louder.

Her hair was a mass of curls, so she pulled it back into a ponytail at the base of her neck, folding it in on itself until it was a loose, messy bun. She glanced into her closet at the row of striped business suits and sighed then turned to the shimmery pearl outfit on her bed. She bit her lower lip and slipped the loose pants on. She pulled the tank top on and ran her finger beneath the collar. She glanced at the mirror over the dresser and sighed then grabbed the matching robe and pulled it on.

She fished out an ice cube from the bucket she'd filled before her shower and dropped it into a glass, debating on what to cover it with. She grabbed a bottled water from the mini-bar and poured it into the glass, taking a sip. Walking over to the window, she pushed it open wider, the complete lack of breeze leaving the curtains hanging limply as they framed the view of the city. She rolled her glass across her forehead then set it down, shrugging out of the robe and draping it across the foot of the bed.

"This," she informed herself as the knock came at the door, "is not a good idea."

"I come bearing questionably fresh snack food." He held up the canvas bag, the drug logo emblazoned in magenta. "The booze, I'm told, only gets better with age. And the hotel is going to gouge the pharmaceutical company for a good fifty bucks for two packs of Oreos and five airline bottles of booze."

"All of which has probably already previously been replaced by entrepreneurial guests who cracked the bottles and replaced their contents with water." She smiled and stepped back. "Come on in."

He walked over to the mini-bar and looked inside. "You got Lorna Doones. I'm really going to complain to the housekeeping staff." He grabbed the yellow package and opened it, offering it to her. "Want one?'

"Hmm," She leaned down as well, looking inside. "I'm more a chocolate girl."

"Chocolate in the heat?" He shook his head. "Brave."

"Too messy," she nodded and took one of the cookies he offered. "Drink?"

"What are you having?"

She glanced up at her water then back down. "Do you think we should risk this?"

Wilson sat on the floor and leaned against the bed, his legs splayed in front of him. "That's a good question."

Cuddy turned and sat facing him. "I was talking about the bourbon."

"Were you?"

"What else would I be talking about?"

He stared at her for a long moment before getting to his knees and crawling closer. Her lips parted as he neared and he let his gaze drift down to the swell of pink as her tongue darted out. "I think the bourbon should be fine."

Cuddy nodded and licked her lips again. "There's scotch as well."

"Lorna Doones go best with Vodka." He reached past her and grabbed one of the small bottles. He rooted around and pulled an orange soft drink bottle. "Screwdriver?"

"I don't suppose there's bloody Mary mix in there?"

"No, but there are three types of candy bars that haven't been made since 1972." He knelt in front of the dresser and filled two glasses with ice before dosing both with a liberal splash of vodka and a small dollop of orange soda. He took a sip and winced, pouring more vodka. "This is probably the most vile thing ever." He took another sip then reached in for another bottle of vodka and split it between the two glasses. He handed one to her then sank back, leaning against the mattress again. "Cheers."

"To the generosity of drug companies." She raised her glass.

"To the gods smiting whoever though Orangina was something that should be put in a mini-bar."

They both drank, Cuddy making a horrified face at the first taste. "Oh, my God. That's awful."

"Once you get past the bitter astringent taste, it's fine." He took another sip. "Especially if you've ever wondered what orange scented cleaning products taste like."

"The vodka is completely overwhelmed by it." She laughed and took another drink then looked in the bar again. She pulled another bottle of vodka out and cracked it open, dumping half the contents into her glass then offering the rest to him. "Surely, eventually, we can dilute it enough."

"I don't think there's enough vodka in the known universe." He poured it into his glass and took a drink, unable to keep from making a face at the sour taste. "This is hideous."

Cuddy nodded and looked at her glass then him before lifting it to her lips and draining it in one long swallow. Wilson watched her throat move with wide eyes until she dropped the glass from her lips and smiled. "I think I've completely burned away at least three internal organs."

"Well, with an endorsement like that…" He followed her lead and drained his glass. Shuddering, he grabbed a Lorna Doone from the package and stuffed it into his mouth. She leaned forward and grabbed one as well, rubbing it against her tongue. He swallowed. "That was the most disgusting thing I've ever had in my mouth."

Cuddy laughed and took a bite of her cookie. "I wish I could say that."

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "You've had something more disgusting to drink?"

"No. But I did date a guy named Eddie once. Uncircumcised and…" she laughed softly. "Hygienically challenged."

"Oh." Wilson grimaced. "That's…that's….that calls for another drink."

She finished off her cookie and nodded, opening the bag he'd brought with him. "Ooh! Rum." She twisted the cap off and smelled it. "You got the good stuff."

"I'll remind you of whose cookies these are."

She wrapped her lips around the opening of the bottle and tilted her head back. Wilson ate another Lorna Doone and watched her, licking crumbs from his lips. "Hmmm." She finished the bottle and licked her lips, smacking them softly. "So, tell me something."

"Ah," Wilson shook his head. "Just because you told me about Eddie and his questionable habits, it doesn't mean we're sharing secrets."

"So it would be out of line to ask why you got into oncology?"

He reached into the back and opened another bottle, not looking to see what it was before he tossed it back. "Was that really what you were going to ask?"

She smiled and fished out a bottle of her own. "Nope."

He let his head fall back and stared up at the spackled ceiling, the occasional glint of silver winking in the sun. "My mother died of breast cancer." He brought his head back up. "That's the answer I give everyone. The truth is that breast cancer is how you meet all the women." She snorted a quick laugh and emptied her bottle into her glass. "What about you?"

"I enjoy busting the balls of all the men I work with. And I like making them look at my breasts without being able to comment for fear of a sexual harassment suit."

"House comments."

"House doesn't honor a DNR, do you really think he'd honor a sexual harassment claim?" She swallowed the golden liquid in her glass and shuddered. "Fuck."

"What?"

"Tequila." She pulled an ice cube out of the glass and sucked on it, water droplets running along her fingers. "And, as frightening as it is, it actually tastes pretty good with that orange stuff."

"No. That has to be a lie." He fished the other cube from her glass and stuck it in his mouth. He made a face and took it out, plopping it into his own empty glass. "You're a sick woman."

She smiled and sighed as a quick breeze stirred the curtains then disappeared. "God," she sighed again. "It's hot."

"Too hot."

She caught her ice cube again and ran it across her collar bone then down toward the collar of her shirt, dipping it into the valley between her breasts. The fabric darkened as the water fell on it, Wilson's eyes focusing on the spreading patterns.

"I haven't eaten all day." He noted quietly.

"You had cookies."

"I did," he agreed, swallowing hard as he ran his hand up her outstretched leg, his palm sliding over the silk. "I had cookies."

Cuddy watched his hand as she slipped the ice cube back into her mouth and sucked on it. Wilson moaned somewhere deep in his chest and got to his knees again, and crawled toward her, his mouth finding hers and stealing the ice from between her lips.

She gasped as he bent his head, using his teeth and tongue to slide the cube along her neck, and back down to her chest, tracing the same trail she'd drawn before. She shivered beneath him as the ice melted, dribbling water down her skin as his tongue took over the exploration, tracing the rivulets to the collar of her shirt, snaking down between her breasts.

"James," she breathed above him, the sound drawing his head up. She stared at him with darkened eyes then leaned in, pressing her mouth to his. He moved up to meet her, pressing quick, hungry kisses to her parted lips. Her breath escaped in a stuttered, husky laugh as she caught his head, holding him still as she kissed him, sliding her tongue into his mouth.

He shifted slightly, moving one leg so that he knelt over her, straddling both her legs. His hands cupped the sides of her face and hers fell to his arms, rubbing the dark hair slowly. He inhaled the powdered scent of her skin, stealing the kiss from her as he sucked on her tongue, stroking it with his own. She whimpered loudly in the sudden quiet of the room and he pulled away, panting hard.

Her hands moved to his stomach, tugging his shirt free and pulling it up his body. He reached back and grabbed a fistful of material to help, tossing it to the side. Her fingers ran over his skin, circling his nipples then moving down to the dark tangle of hair above his waistband. She stopped just above the fabric and looked at him. Wilson stroked her shoulders then let his hands fall to her waist, teasing the satin away from her skin. She arched her back slightly as he lifted it, letting her hair fall down messily around her shoulders as it slipped free of the shirt and the loose bun.

She reached back and unfastened her bra, her eyes holding his. He inhaled and exhaled shakily, smoothing the straps off her shoulders. He shook his head slightly and reached around, pulling her toward him, her chest pressed hard against his. He bent his head and kissed the hollow beneath her ear, his breath hot between them.

Shivering in his arms, she pushed him back and reached out, stroking his cheek down to his jaw line, running her thumb across his chin and then up to his lower lip. She swallowed and licked her lips. "Despite the close proximity to the minibar, I think the bed might be more comfortable, don't you?"

He imitated her gesture and ran his thumb over her lip. "We're going to do this?"

She laughed softly and nodded. "We're already doing this, James."

He leaned in and found her mouth again, sliding his tongue past her parted lips. She slid her arms around his back, letting them roam along his spine as her breasts rubbed against his chest, her nipples hard as they slipped through the tangle of hair.

His hands moved over her back as well, easing over the curve of her ass to push the satin pants over her hips, the wisp of her thong slipping down with it. He broke the kiss to move his mouth to her shoulder, tracing the curve with his tongue as she angled away just enough to step out of the cascade of fabric at her feet. She moved back in toward him, her hands at his waist, unfastening is shorts and guiding the zipper down. He watched her hands between them as she slipped both underneath the material and smoothed them over the planes of his stomach and hips to get the shorts to fall.

Swallowing hard, he continued to watch as she slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxer-briefs and eased them over his cock and then let her hands slide back to the back to guide them over his ass before pushing them down, stepping closer to him as they fell to the floor.

He shivered in the dense heat of the room and took a step back, slipping off his shoes as he sat back on the bed, letting her push him back onto the slick bedspread as she crawled up his body, sweet, sweat-slick skin skimming over his as she straddled him with a smile.

"Hot enough for you?" She laced her fingers through his as, outside the window, lightning flashed, illuminating the dark room, shining off of her slick skin. Goosebumps rose on her flesh and her nipples were hard and tight in the electric flash. Rising up on her knees, she positioned herself over him and sank down, surrounding him in liquid heat that rivaled the heavy air of the room.

She closed her eyes, her head falling back to expose the pale expanse of her neck. A hard rumble of thunder seemed to shake the room, the second flash of lightning hard on its heels, jolting their bodies into action.

Their hands clenched together as the muscles surrounding him tightened briefly before she began moving, sliding along the length of his cock as her knees dug into his thighs. He closed his eyes for a moment then forced them open, releasing her hands and seeking out the smooth, slick feel of her skin.

Her hands free, Cuddy moved them to his stomach, threading her fingers through the mat of ginger dark hair that feathered across his abdomen. The room darkened and illuminated with the gathering, growing storm as he held her hips, his fingers sliding over her flesh as he moved them up to the curve of her breasts. Her fingers moved up to mimic his moves, teasing his nipples as he played with hers, rolling the hard tips between his thumb and forefinger. She caught his nipple with her nail, and he sucked in air, thrusting up deeper inside her.

She ran her nails over his chest and stomach, scraping over his skin as he slid one hand around her waist and pulled himself up, his muscles flexing and contracting against the press of her fingers, capturing them between them as he replaced his hand with his mouth, closing his lips over one nipple, sucking and nibbling at the tip as she arched her back and offered herself up to him.

Thunder rumbled again right outside the open window, a thick gust of hot air roiling into the room, the sudden heavy breeze whipping her hair and the curtains as he sank back down onto the bed, pulling her with him. She caught her breath as she stretched out above him, her mouth open above his. Wilson leaned in and stole her kiss, thrusting his tongue in her mouth as he rolled them over, bracing himself above her and thrusting inside her once again.

Her legs curled up over his hips, her body spreading beneath him as he dug his fingers into the bedspread and thrust, breaking the kiss with a desperate gasp as his neck bowed, his back arched away from her, his hips rolling and thrusting against hers. Her heels dug into his back and the soft flesh of his ass, her own thrusts engulfing his cock with every stroke. Her hands splayed over his chest and up to his neck, bringing him down to kiss her. She took control of the kiss, ignoring his quick, hungry offerings by capturing his tongue and sucking on it, pulling him closer and deeper until he was against her, on top of her, his elbows replacing his hands on the bed, his hands embedding themselves in her thick fall of hair. Her legs tightened around him and then her body constricted, pulsing and surrounding and squeezing until he cried out in her mouth, his orgasm pulsing against her greedy flesh.

Cuddy groaned, releasing his mouth as she sucked in air, her chest heaving beneath his. Her eyes were bright and hot and she shivered, her nipples even tighter in the sudden chill of the room. They stared at each other, suddenly sober and cold as lightning flashed again and the sky opened up, a heavy deluge of rain crashing down.

He eased away from her slowly, moving to the opposite side of the bed as she sat up, pulling at the comforter to cover herself. He ran a hand through his sweat-slick hair and stared out at the rain. "I should…"

"Should what?" Her voice was soft, questioning but not accusatory.

"I…don't know." He glanced back at her over his shoulder. "Go?"

Her eyebrows lifted slightly and then she gave a small shrug. "Probably."

"I didn't plan this."

"No. Neither did I." She picked at a loose thread on the comforter in an effort to avoid his eyes. "But I knew it might happen."

"I don't routinely cheat on my wife." He laughed, the sound sad even to his own ears. "I've never cheated on my wife."

"Blame it on the heat."

"Blame it on the Lorna Doones." He reached out and caught her hand, stilling it on the covers. "I knew it might happen too, Lisa."

"It doesn't mean that you're not sorry that it did." She looked up and met his gaze.

"It doesn't mean that I am." He lifted his hand to touch her cheek. "For anyone else, this would be slightly problematic. For us…"

"We have House." She sighed. "Your best friend."

He leaned into her and found her lips again. "House doesn't know everything about me."

She pulled away, looking away. "Just because it happened once doesn't mean it will happen again."

He nodded and turned her to face him again. "Do you want it to?" He watched her eyes carefully. "Because I'm thinking of stockpiling Lorna Doones."

"So, did you meet wife number four?"

Wilson looked up from the chart. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, and from the look on your face, I know you know what I mean." He leaned on the nurse's station desk and swallowed a Vicodin. "So? Did you?"

"No."

"Come on. Temperatures were rising, clothes were coming off. Surely you're not the only decent looking oncology doctor around."

"I didn't go there to get laid."

"No. No. You wouldn't." He leaned forward and looked closely at Wilson. "Pity." He glanced over toward Cuddy's office. "What about Cuddy? You see her there?"

"Once or twice around the hotel."

"She hook up with anyone?"

"Why? Would you be jealous?"

House ignored Wilson's raised eyebrow. "No. But it might be fun to torment her. Come on. Surely you saw her talking too long with some burly guy with a small dick and big wallet. Wooing him to our financial beck and call with her breasts."

"I did see her eat a bagel at one point."

House sighed. "You're too much of a nice guy, Wilson. I think I'm going to have to find another sidekick."

"As if you could find anyone that could stand you." Wilson picked up his chart and moved away, feeling House's eyes on him as he headed toward Cuddy's office. "Don't you have clinic duty?"

"You'll be sorry when I start sending Foreman to do my dirty work."

"I'm sure I will, Greg. I'm sure I will."