My boyfriend, Dave, was always telling me Steve was being so nice to me and giving me a break to write on the new show because he wanted to get into my pants. Dave was a self-declared expert about this kind of stuff, because as a successful director, he knew “how things worked in this town.”

But whatever Steve’s motives, I knew I had to make this gig work. I’d been out of town all week until yesterday, visiting with some new FBI show advisers. With so many forensic shows on the air, having these kinds of technical experts in the credits really helped our credibility with viewers. So in the middle of all the craziness of getting the Marilyn show ready, I had to drop everything and go to Quantico to meet with their team of forensic specialists. Around the office, I acted slightly exasperated about the last-minute assignment, but for someone like me who was a little sick in the head when it came to a fascination with crime scenes, the trip was awesome. It was my very own forensic porn.

Being away from Dave had been hard. I was a little addicted to talking to Dave several times a day. Every time I heard the familiar ding of my Crackberry from the bottom of my purse telling me that I had a message waiting, I’d scramble through everything to get it, hoping it was Dave. Last night, I had been so eager to see him when I landed that I thought of driving straight over to his house, but decided I could use the detour home to defunk. It was a good thing I did, because when I got home I found Dave sitting on my couch with a bucket of KFC.

“Hey, baby,” he said, smiling. “I missed you so much, and thought you could use a little KFC and some kisses to welcome you home.”

“That’s sooo sweet of you!” I didn’t really like KFC (ten thousand Weight Watchers points) but still, it was sweet of him.

But last night our romp in the bedroom began with a soft beginning for him and a softer ending. That was a first. Nothing makes a girl feel worse than not being able to get a guy off. I mean, c’mon, I’m naked and under you, or in this instance on top of you, and you totally lose your boner?

Dave stared up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, baby, I’ve just had a lot on my mind with work and everything. . . .”

“It’s okay.” I tried to brush it off. “I guess we just need to practice more. I won’t go out of town so much.” I was a little flushed and trying to catch my breath; I’d been working hard to make it happen.