A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has read my one-shots and left reviews. I'm trying to catch up on my replies—real life has kept my plate very full the last few months. Thank you for your patience and your thoughtful opinions. The following is the beginning of my first multi-chapter story which was a challenge short on Perfectly Plum that took on a life of its own. I hope you enjoy it!

All Plum characters are the property of Janet Evanovich. Rated M for language and some inappropriate displays of (Ranger) affection. Definitely Babe in the end. All fumbles, bumbles, interceptions, miscues and tippy toes along the sidelines that go out of bounds (or result in inelegant face plants) are mine alone. Chapter heading quotes from Brooks & Dunn.

Nothing About You

Part One

"The way you look . . ."

"No . . . no . . . no . . . no . . . no!" Steph flipped through the dresses in her closet, nearing panic as she discarded one after the other. All of the clothes were absolutely ass-kicking, and none were right for this evening out with Joe. A red halter dress with a plunging V neck sailed through the air to land on a heap with the other dresses that hadn't made the cut.

"Sensible, tasteful, low key," he'd said. "The Chief is entertaining a foreign police commissioner who wants to set up an exchange program with Trenton PD. Only a select few from the department are being invited. We need to put our best foot forward on this." He took her hand and gave her a Morelli-lethal puppy dog grin. "Please, Cupcake. I want to have you on my arm for this."

Steph was more than confident she could put both feet forward in nothing but the best. She'd picked up a pair of stunning Vittorio's just last week. It was the rest of the outfit that was giving her problems. If Joe gave her the option of one out of the three, she was pretty sure she could come up with the 'tasteful' part. It was combining it with 'sensible' and 'low key' where the problems cropped up.

"Aargh!" Steph flopped onto her bed and tipped her head back, staring at the ceiling in frustration. Whenever she thought of anything even remotely connected to Sensible, she always flashed to her childhood and Sunday Mass, when a gaggle of elderly women would gather in their groups for sternly hushed conversations. All of them wore unrelieved black, and most had the thin-lipped mouth and narrow, disapproving eyes down to a T. The fact that most of their disapproval was sent in her direction had absolutely nothing to do with her instinctive revolt against even the concept of sensible.

"I can't do this," she moaned, rolling over to bury her face in a pillow. "I can't do this and Joe is going to be the laughingstock of the department." Her fingers clenched in the fabric of the pillowcase, then she sighed and forced herself to relax. Hysterics might make her feel better, but it wasn't going to find her the right outfit. For that, she needed to call in the big guns.

Her hand reached over to the bedside table and felt around until she found her cell phone. Steph turned her head and hit the speed dial. There was only one person she knew of who was equal to this task. She counted three rings before it picked up. "Mary Lou?"

"Steph! What's up?"

Quickly, Steph outlined her problem. There was a long moment of silence, then another. Finally, Steph couldn't stand the suspense any longer. "Are you still there?"

"You think I'm sensible?" asked her best friend in a horrified tone. "I'm the old fuddy duddy you ask for help when you want to be sensible?"

"No, it's not like that!" Steph pressed a finger into her temple, trying to come up with a plausible explanation fast. "But can you see me asking Sally Sweet for advice on this? His idea of sensible includes thigh high boots and chains!"

Mary Lou didn't say anything right away, and Steph held her breath, fearing that she had completely blown it. "I can see your point," said Mary Lou finally. "Did Joe give you any other hints as to what you should wear?"

"Not really. He just said the Commissioner was from a very conservative, very rural part of his country, and to play it very safe. I just don't know what is 'very safe'. I mean, some cleavage, no cleavage, high neck, what? Short sleeves, long sleeves, no sleeves—you see where I'm going with this?"

"Calm down." Mary Lou thought for a moment, the tapping of her finger against the phone clearly audible. "Okay, tell you what. Give me 30 minutes to get the kids over to my mother-in-law's, and I'll pick you up for a shopping trip. I'll call around and get some recommendations, okay?"

"You're a lifesaver," said Steph fervently. That got a laugh from her best friend. "No, I mean it. Without you, I'd be showing up at this dinner and starting an international incident."

Mary Lou made a tsking sound. "You're Stephanie Plum, sweetie. An international incident would be a normal day for you."

She hung up, and Steph staree at the phone in dismay. A fleeting, sensible thought argued that canceling on Joe early enough so he could find a different date would be the prudent thing to do. Maybe his mom could suggest a budding paragon of Burg virtue—meek, mild and completely sensible. Someone who would be able to last an evening without offending a visiting dignitary or setting the restaurant on fire. Or blowing it up, suggested her traitorous mind. That thought she squashed without a second's hesitation. No fires, no mishaps, no broken plates. Not this time.

Bouncing up from the bed, Steph swept the piles of discarded clothes to one side and grabbed a clean shirt and jeans. There was just enough time before Mary Lou arrived to clean up a bit and into clothes that were easy to change. Knowing Mary Lou, once she got started on the shopping spree there would be no stopping until they attacked and defeated the last possible store. They would spend a few hours of fun reliving old times, and end with a good dinner and even better drinks. Nothing but good old-fashioned, wholesome fun. Steph paused in the door of her bedroom and looked back at the closet of clothes that hadn't made the grade. If there was nothing but a good shopping trip to look forward to, then why did she have the sudden premonition that there was only trouble ahead?

Steph took a deep breath, then let it out in an explosive sigh. A TV dinner and a movie on cable seemed a whole lot more tempting at the moment, but she wasn't going to back out on Joe now. No, better to grit her teeth and get through the evening, then burn whatever outfit she ended up wearing. Yeah, and invite Sally to roast marshmallows over that little bonfire . . .

With a laugh and shake of her head, Steph ducked into the bathroom to get ready. Before she could light it up, she had to get the outfit, and it wouldn't surprise her if she kept the damn thing just so she could pull it out occasionally and snicker over the silly things she was willing to do for love.