Note: Much like "Of Cake And Coffee", this story arose from my wondering how a certain hint towards a Sam-Diane sequence played out. And of course, I personally couldn't resist the urge to write for Miss Chambers at her most playfully flirtatious and unbearably cute (emphasis on "unbearably", as far as poor Sam's concerned)—the Diane of the first half of Season 5, who beams and glows and lets precious little get her down, because "I'm in love…and I know my fella loves me—he just doesn't know it, yet." (Somehow, I really do think the mood of Sinatra's classic, where the title of this tale comes from, really does fit Diane's mood at this point in the show.)

Anyway—what happened after "I am your light"? Read on, and enjoy!

Sam Malone didn't need a date tonight, anyway. And even if he did—who cared whether she was "smart" or not? Tiffany was a darn great sight for sore eyes…and as far as Sam was concerned, he needed it—

Indeed, Sam? The voice of the one woman he didn't want to hear, right now, sounded out his inner thoughts. Then why did you cancel your date with her?

Sam shook his head, as he checked the time. It was 7:23. She was probably in her apartment, as she'd said…waiting for him to stop by—even though he said he wouldn't. But that woman kept acting like what he kept telling her didn't register—well, she responded to it, and then acted like he didn't mean it, with that sweet, knowing smile of hers….

The door opened, and she walked into the bar, "Hello again, everyone!"

Just go away…please just—go away… "You're working overtime?" Sam muttered, as he poured a beer, handing it to Norm.

Diane Chambers gave a little pout as she walked over to the counter, "Oh, come now, my darling—don't be like that, especially on such a night as this…"

"Hey, will you stop—and besides, shouldn't you be at your apartment, or something?"

Diane shrugged, taking a seat, "Why, Sam…!" she cooed, "Were you going to check, after all?"

"Will you just—?"

"As a matter of fact, I decided to change my plans for the night. I walked down the streets of Boston, following my shift…and discovered it was simply too wonderful a night to spend alone…."

"So get a date." Sam didn't know why he headed to her—but the bar was between them, so he was safe. "You want a drink?"

Diane smiled, her eyes sparkling as she shook her head. "Not at the moment. And as to your other question—no…I wouldn't ever want to waste tonight with just any man…."

Sam smirked. "Well, enjoy it, sweetheart."

"I intend to."

"Without me!"

Diane shrugged, and made a show of looking around, "And where's your date?"

Sam took a glass, and cleaned it. "I don't need one, tonight."

"Ah, I see…" Diane's smile grew. "Your standards wouldn't allow you to keep up your charade for long…?"

"No standards—I'm just not in the mood."

"Oh, you seemed to be when I arrived today—what was her name? Ah, yes, Tiffany…"

Sam threw out his free hand, "Hey, give it a rest, will ya? Tiffany and I couldn't work out, tonight—"

"Apparently, she could."

Sam leaned forward, in what he hoped was an intimidating pose, "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Diane shrugged, looking at him with an innocence not quite as pure as the wind-driven snow, "Why, Sam! I only meant I'm sure she was too busy with her aerobics session."

Sam straightened up, and smirked, "Trust me, if that were it, she'd have gotten some real exercise, tonight."

"I'm sure she would. Now, I understand you were concerned with searching for intelligence—"

"Hey, Sam!" Carla called over, "Ya want to keep on beating a stick, or do you want to take this order?"

Diane's eyes didn't leave Sam's. "I believe I'm beating him, Carla."

Sam stiffened, "No, you're not," he shot back, as he headed over to Carla's side.

"Oh—Sam?" Diane called, "If you'll be working for the rest of the night—"

"Diane…do whatever you want, I don't care—as long as it's got nothing to do with me!"

Diane shrugged, and rose to her feet, "All right…I suppose I will."

"Good," Sam muttered, as he turned to Carla—

"Uh, Sam?" Diane called out.

"What?" Sam whirled to her.

Diane grinned, and her voice lowered, "What was it you called me, a moment ago?"

"Hey, if you didn't like it, I'm standing by it."

Diane chuckled, and shook her head, "No…you said, 'Enjoy it', and then…?"

Sam didn't know what she was getting at, but he had the feeling it wasn't going to work well for him. Great—just great.

He shrugged, "If you forgot, I'm not gonna repeat it—"

Diane swayed to where he now stood, "You referred to me, a handful of minutes ago…as 'sweetheart'," she said, in a warm voice.

Sam forced a smirk, "Sorry, but I wouldn't take that too personally—"

"Hey, Sam!" Carla glared at him.

"Yeah, what's up, sweetheart?"

Carla rolled her eyes, with a huff.

Diane chuckled, as she leaned to him invitingly, "Deny all you want, my love…but you will never dissuade either of us of the truth—"

"You know, you're irritating the heck outta me—that's the truth."

Diane straightened up, and shrugged, "Regardless—I'll return soon, later tonight: there are several things I can do, in the meantime…to prepare. Bon soir, mon coer…!"

"Prepare for—?"

"Sam!" Carla smacked the bar.

Sam turned to her, "Right—what am I making?"

"An idiot of yourself."

"Come on, Carla—"

"Yeah, whatever—listen…" Carla ran down the list. Sam took it down—but not without noticing Diane walking confidently to the exit, la-la-la-ing to herself. As she opened the door, Diane paused, and tossed him a confident smile, filled with invitation. With most other girls, Sam would've called it a "come hither" look—but then, Diane wasn't most other girls. This was more of an "I've got you, for all time" look.

"Don't you have something better to do?" Carla grumbled. "Like do the order, or something?"

Sam shook his head, as he mixed the drinks. "What are you talking about?"

"You're feeding the beast, ya know. Ignore her, and she'll knock it off sooner or later—but you're not, Sam! You're just making it worse!"

Sam shrugged, "You know, I don't think I'll be able to stand that for too long—she'll just keep on talking and talking—"

"So what—she does that, anyway. She's playing you like a flute, Sammy, and you know it—and you're letting her! What are you, a masochist?

"Carla—"

"Save it. You wanna get rid of her? I can do it, but it's gonna need—"

"Hey, give it a rest, will you?—besides, don't you have moving plans to worry about?"

Carla stiffened a little. "Just—get me the drinks, Sam…or is it Sap?"

"I said give it a rest! I got this…."

Carla shook her head, rolling her eyes. Sam finished the drinks, and filled the tray.

As Carla left, Sam braced himself. He suspected he'd have to, for the rest of the night.

Just get a date—who cares what Diane thinks? You like fast women—call Tiffany, and—

No, what would that do? He just wasn't in the mood for Tiffany.

Why not?! You were in the mood before she started "describing" her for you! What is it about her, anyway—Diane?

It was like when they were first together—and that former girlfriend of his had dropped in, one time. Sam was about to walk the woman to her car, but Diane suddenly squirted a load of seltzer water down there—and that had been that.

No seltzer water this time…but Diane was still able somehow to cool things down. And in the meantime, despite himself, he had to admit she was also—

No…oh, no—no-no-no…NO! Don't you go there—she's not "heating things up". She's just being annoying, as usual, these days!

He heard her gentle, teasing voice in his head again: Then why are you constantly looking to the door, my love…?

Oh, stop—I don't love her, okay?! I'm just bracing myself for more of her stupid nonsense—that's it!

Somehow…he was able to keep on working, for the rest of the night.