Hello again! I'm sorry, but this hiatus is killing me, so here's yet another Mentalist story dedicated to Jane and Lisbon! :) Thank you all for your lovely reviews, they bring a smile to my face and I appreciate it more than you know. Please let me know what you think about this new addition, it's kind of a different take on them, yet I tried to stay in character. Everybody loves a jealous Jane ;) Let me know what you all think and enjoy!

Burning Cold

Patrick Jane peeked out from behind his magazine while sitting on his couch at the sound of Teresa Lisbon answering her office phone.

"Lisbon," she answered, tucking the phone between her cheek and her shoulder to balance it. Jane noticed her facial features change from stressed and tight to bright and warm when she heard the voice on the other end speak. And he felt a twinge of something he didn't recognize.

"Hey yourself," she responded lightly, stacking papers together. She listened for a few moments. "Lunch? Today? I think so—I just have to finish up a few more things and I can be on my way out. Okay, that sounds great! Thanks," she finished, hanging up the phone. Jane threw the magazine in front of his face again so she wouldn't see him peeking. When he heard her standing up and stacking papers, Jane closed the magazine and made his way to her office.

"Did you get a homicide call?" he asked casually, leaning against the doorframe to her office.

"What?" Lisbon looked up. "Oh, no, that was just someone asking if we could have lunch today."

"Us? As in the whole team?" Jane pressed.

Lisbon looked up, her eyes squinted. "No . . . Us as in me and him."

"Oh, so it's a him?"

"Yes, Jane, it's a him!" Lisbon said in exasperation, throwing her jacket around her shoulders. "Why does that matter?"

"Because if it's a her, I would have no reason to be concerned. You could take out any woman who threatened
you. A man, well you can take down most men, but I don't know anything about this man. Is he muscular? Is he dangerous?" Jane questioned, concerned, but also additionally trying to get on her nerves. Her expression showed that he had succeeded.

Lisbon rolled her eyes and fit her arms through her jacket. "Jane, you need to calm down. Go drink some tea. If you want lunch so bad, I'll bring you back a bag. But I'm going to lunch with this man, you are not to follow me, and you are to shut your mouth next time I see you. Got it?"

Jane tossed her a smile. "Ooh I like a woman who's in control."

Lisbon only rolled her eyes again, narrowing her eyes at her consultant. But inside it felt as if a thousand butterflies had been released in her stomach. He likes a woman in control.

She decided to play along and give Jane a bit of his own medicine. "Patrick Jane, you're jealous," she said, her eyes shining.

"What? Why would I be jealous? I get to sit here and sleep while you're forced to attend a lunch function on top of everything else that needs to be done," Jane fought back, but it was obvious he wasn't convincing Lisbon. The woman had learned a lot about reading people over the years, all thanks to him, and she was showing that now.

"Yeah, yeah, okay, Jane, you say what makes you feel better. You're worried another man is in my life. You're scared someone will replace the great Patrick Jane," Lisbon teased, her eyes shining. Oh, how he loved to see her green eyes sparkling like that. She had been so stressed lately, he hadn't seen it much, but it took a moment to study her eyes, her face. She was breathtakingly beautiful, and her eyes, her eyes were like lights that helped guide him through every dark valley he had ever gone through, shining and sparkling and leaking encouragement, care, and trust. Teresa Lisbon's eyes had to be the perfect addition to the most beautiful creation.

"Please, no one could replace me," Jane said, crossing his arms. Lisbon made her way around her desk and stopped in front of Jane blocking the door.

"That's true," she replied, "You are the biggest jackass and I don't see how anyone could be more obnoxious and immature." She attempted to make her way past him, but Jane caught her arm and stepped into the office. Her earlier words had just settled in.

"What do you mean I'm afraid 'someone will replace the great Patrick Jane'?" he questioned, his hand still on Lisbon's arm.

"I meant just that—if there's another man in my life, you think he'll take your place."

"As what?"

Lisbon was having trouble concentrating. Patrick Jane's hand was gently holding her wrist, and he had no reason to. Her arm was burning from the contact, and warmth spread throughout her entire body.

"Because you see, Lisbon, that would imply that I have something with you that he would have to replace. That would suggest that you and I have a special bond that he would have to intrude upon, thus, by your theories, making me jealous," Jane smiled triumphantly, dropping Lisbon's arm. Her hand was immediately cold. "So, tell me Lisbon, what am I that this man has the capability to replace?" Jane took a step closer to Lisbon, smirking. They were about as close as they could be without actually touching one another

"Jane . . ." Lisbon breathed. He was much too close. His smell of cologne and tea was intoxicating, and Lisbon was having trouble concentrating on his words.

"I just want you to be careful," Jane breathed against her ear, leaning forward so his breath brushed the back of her neck. The sensation sent chills through Lisbon's body, as much as she desperately tried to hide it. She managed a nod, unable to look him in his beautiful, sea blue eyes.

He was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. He was broken, yet perfect at the same time. She didn't know when she had first fallen for him, she imagined it was long before she was able to admit it to herself, but it was eyes. His eyes had drawn her in. She saw passion, hurt, and betrayal all in his eyes, and over the years, maybe some hope had found its way into Jane's eyes, because they certainly looked more hopeful. His eyes, and the way they seemed as if they could read your very soul had drawn her in the moment they met. His eyes, they were her weakness. That was why she was refusing to look at them at the current moment.

"Who is he?" Jane pressed, whispering into her ear. Lisbon closed her eyes.

"Lisbon," Jane leaned back. "Look at me."

Slowly, reluctantly, Lisbon opened her eyes and stared into Jane's. They were inches apart.

"Tell me who he is," he said quietly, moving his lips back to her ear, but this time he brushed his lips gently against the skin behind it. It was so brief it took a moment to register, but Lisbon shook under the touch.

"It's, nobody you need to worry about," she answered hoarsely, her eyes closed.

"Nobody, huh?" Jane clarified, smirking. He moved his head to her other ear and Lisbon grabbed onto the top of his vest, he was so close. She nodded.

Jane moved his lips closer and brushed them against her other ear, his time Lisbon let out a breath she didn't even know she had been holding and Jane smiled against her ear.

"Who is it, Lisbon?" he asked again.

She was getting weaker, weaker every time he talked, touched her, weaker every time he breathed. "Jane," she pleaded, wanting him to stop but also wanting him to keep going. She was still gripping onto his vest for dear life, they were unbelievably close.

He looked back into her eyes, and Lisbon immediately cursed herself for looking back into his. She gulped, and pulled her eyes away, instead focusing on her hands on his vest.

Slowly, Lisbon traced a line with one finger from his neckline all the way down to his belly button. He watched her finger move down, painfully slow. Then Lisbon looked back up and met Jane's eyes, knowing she had stilled him. "You're the mentalist," she whispered in his ear, her breath making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "You tell me."

With that, Lisbon dropped her grip on his suit, turned on her heel, and walked out the door and entered the elevator down the hall, leaving Jane openmouthed and speechless as he watched her go, his chest burning from her touch as a cold wind seemed to blow at him at her absence. Ah, he had taught her well. Too well for both his good and hers.