Notes: Thanks to Mari and Sammy for brainstorming with me and for your always helpful suggestions!

Readers and REAL McRollers - Thank you for your amazing support. I know I haven't written a flashback in a while. Hope you enjoy it!

Wrapped Up in a Memory (A McRoll in the REAL World Story)

Catherine stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel from the rack. She finished drying herself off just as Steve came into the bathroom after taking Cammie out.

"Cammie good for the night?" she asked.

"Yep, and I peeked in at Angie. Fast asleep." A slow grin spread across his face as he watched her wrap the towel around herself and tuck the corner in to secure it. He folded his arms and leaned a hip against the sink, his eyes on her.

"What?" she asked, curious about his expression.

"Just thinking about the first time I saw you like that," he said. "Wrapped in a towel."

A saucy smile spread across her own face and she stepped closer to him. "Mmm, a certain hotel in Annapolis …" she said leadingly, bringing her hands up to rest on his chest as he unfolded his arms to grasp her lightly about the waist.

"Nope," he said simply.

She stopped, tilting her head curiously. "Nope?"

"Nope," he repeated.

Her eyes widened suddenly and he smiled, knowing she remembered exactly what he was talking about.

June 1997

"So the towels are here," Steve said, opening the Mills' linen closet. "And the washcloths, too, so you can get all that paint off." He took one of each out and turned to hand them to Catherine, both freezing momentarily when their fingers touched.

"Thanks," she said, coming back to herself first. "I should, um … I should grab my clothes out of your room to change back into." She winced. "I wish I'd thought to bring something nicer than a tank top and shorts, but I didn't know Mrs. Mills was going to invite me to dinner."

Steve shook his head. "You always look nice," he said automatically and her eyes flew to his. He straightened, clearing his throat and glancing away. "I mean, the Mills aren't fancy or anything. Don't worry about it."

She smiled, holding the towel and washcloth to her chest. "Right."

They paused a moment, still facing each other next to the linen closet.

"I should …" she began again.

"Yeah," he said quickly, stepping back. He cleared his throat again and nodded toward the guest bathroom. "There's a basket of shampoo and stuff like that in there. Mrs. Mills collects them from hotels."

Catherine smiled. "My aunt does that, too."

Another brief pause and she raised her eyebrows expectantly. He shook himself and said, "Okay, I'll … be outside."

She grinned. "So you can admire the shed you built some more?" she teased.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I've gotta put a few things away in the garage from earlier."

She nodded. "I won't be long. Then you can have your turn in the shower."

He swallowed quickly, the word "shower" and the accompanying images flashing into his head unbidden. "Okay," he said, and with a single backward glance, he headed back outside, trying to convince himself he wasn't beating a hasty retreat.

Ten minutes later, Catherine opened the bathroom door and stepped into the hall wrapped in a towel, her hair and skin still damp from the shower. Steam escaped the now open door and she turned to look back at the foggy mirror.

Hearing a noise behind her, she spun around to see Steve coming out of his bedroom right across the hall. He froze in the doorframe, eyes wide.

"Catherine, I–" he stammered, taking in her bare shoulders. His eyes moved lower of their own accord.

"Steve, I … I thought you were outside," she said, equally surprised. She moved an arm across her chest to keep the towel in place.

His eyes snapped back to hers. "I am, er … I mean, I was … I had to … grab an Allen wrench I left in my room …" His voice trailed off and he swallowed thickly, purposely training his eyes on the carpet between them. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd … I mean, I thought you'd be in …" He motioned vaguely toward the bathroom.

She looked back at the open door and winced. "Oh, I … I'm not sure the fan is working right." She shifted, tugging the towel a little higher and unintentionally drawing his eyes back to her. "It got really steamy and um … hot … after the shower. I just came out for a minute while it cooled off in there."

"The … fan …?" he repeated slowly, mouth suddenly dry as more of her legs were now exposed.

"Guess you found your next home repair project," she said, flashing him a quick smile.

He blinked, uncomprehending.

"You know … now that the … shed's finished," she finished a little awkwardly, stating what should have been obvious.

"Right," he said, reality flooding back to his brain. He looked in the direction of the bathroom ceiling. "I'll … take a look at it." He closed his eyes for a beat and shook his head, opening them again. "Later, obviously. Sorry, I'll … let you get back to …" He waved at the door.

"Yeah, I just … need a couple more minutes," she said, moving back into the bathroom.

"Sure," he said quickly. He cleared his throat. "Take … um … take all the time you need."

She flashed another quick smile before closing the door.

He let out his breath in a whoosh of air. His head dropped back and he mouthed, "Wow," to the ceiling.

He inhaled deeply and ran a hand over his face as he exhaled. Shaking his head a few times rapidly to dislodge the image he didn't really want to dislodge, he walked down the hall, a small smile on his face as he glanced back at the bathroom door.

Back in the present, Catherine chuckled. "I forgot about that," she said, smiling broadly.

"I didn't," Steve said, looking at her meaningfully.

"You were a little flustered, as I recall," she teased.

"I wasn't flustered," he protested immediately.

She barked a laugh. "Ha! Sure you weren't." She grinned, tapping him on the chest. "So what? Every time you see me in a towel you think about our … encounter in the Mills' hallway?"

"Every time," he answered without hesitation. "Then I think how back then … I wouldn't have been able to do this." He reached for the corner of her towel, deftly untucking it and letting it fall to the floor. He guided her backwards in the direction of the shower. "No matter how much I might have wanted to."

Her smile grew and she ran her hands up over his shoulders before dropping them down the hem of his t-shirt and tugging it upwards. "You weren't the only one." She spared a quick glance at monitor on the vanity and the open bathroom door. "You said Angie's asleep?"

"Yep," he confirmed, maneuvering himself out of his t-shirt and tossing it to the floor, his shorts following close behind. "So let's take advantage of not having to lock the doors while we can. She'll be walking before we know it."

Catherine snorted, stepping back into the shower. "You think a daughter of ours is gonna be stymied by a locked door?"

He grinned, reaching for the handle and turning the water on. "Like I was saying, let's take advantage while we can."

"I like the way you think, Commander," she said in the seconds before his lips covered hers, any thought of towels now far from both their minds.

Hope you enjoyed!

Note: Chronologically, this flashback takes place between the ones in Trust and Cooking Up Memories.

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