My good friend Kirsty Welsh said to publish this story here, but I must give you a warning. This story has adult themes running the whole of the way through it. If sex offends, PLEASE DON'T READ FURTHER. I will give warnings at the beginning of each chapter that contains sexual content, but please be assured, it is part of the story and not sex for sex sake! If the necessity arisies I will change its category to M - although that will mean you'll have to change your search parameters on FFn as M stories don't show up automatically. I will warn you if anyone asks me to change the category. I will try to publish one chapter per day.

Disclaimer - I don't own either of the guys, but I'd really like to. I don't make money from them either - but I wish I could! No infringement of copyright is intended. This is for fun only.

Chapter 1

"Oh say you'll always be my baby
We can make it shine, we can take forever
Just a minute at a time.

More than a woman, more than a woman to me
More than a woman, more than a woman to me
More than a woman".

The sounds of Barry Gibb echoed around the dark disco as the handsome sable haired man and his woman danced together in the middle of the floor. The man was a whisker shy of six feet tall and was of a slim muscular build. His dark, curly hair was worn longer at the back than the sides, the riot of chocolate curls brushing the collar of his white jacket at the back while a single errant curl fell forward onto his brow to lie above unruly dark eyebrows. Beneath those eyebrows cerulean blue eyes sparkled with life and vigor and intelligence out of a ruggedly handsome face which wore a light tan and which lit up when a genuine smile flitted across his features. His body moved with a feral grace to the music. He was 35 years old, in the prime of a life which had been almost snuffed out and now approached living with a zeal which left his friends breathless.

David Starsky had lain in a hospital bed for three months after James Gunther had given orders for hired hitmen to gun him down. Five bullets had ploughed into his body that day in the police garage and as a result several things had happened to him. Perhaps the most significant was that he had died for three minutes. After that he'd fought his way back to life for four months and then fought again to get out of the wheelchair he'd been confined to for a further five weeks. After that he'd surprised everyone by enduring months of agonizing physiotherapy to return to the streets as a cop thirteen months after the original hit. And his zeal for life, which had always bubbled under the surface, had risen to new heights. His return to the side of his partner, Hutch, out on the central streets of Bay City had been like a second birth to the curly haired man and from then on, he started to live every minute of his life as if it were his last.

Flippancy, which had once been one of his downfalls, was now relegated to the dimmest recesses of his mind. The new Starsky was erudite, sensitive as always, more fun loving than ever, and now, two years on from his miraculous recovery, more determined than ever to enjoy life to the full, settle down and start a family. The navy blue shirt he wore beneath his white jacket hid the scars of the bullets and multiple surgeries and he'd come to terms with what he thought of as defects on his body. Never vain, he had however been shy of showing himself to women, somehow ashamed of the tramlines, puckers and divots decorating his chest and back. But as the months passed, once again he became comfortable in his skin, not least because Hutch, his constant companion through the pain of the attack and recovery had encouraged him - sometimes bullied him into going out and getting on with living.

Now, slim hips once more filled his tight jeans although the customary blue Adidas had, for tonight at least, been replaced by comfortable loafers. Those hips now shimmied and danced to the tunes from the DJ's record deck as he held on to his woman, head resting on the top of hers as he breathed in the perfume of her shampoo and the citrus aroma of Eau de Lancôme which she habitually wore.

Across the room, Hutch was dancing with his fiancée Sarah and the blond glanced sideways at his partner, admiring how he looked with his girl and thinking for the hundredth time how well matched they were and how good she was for Starsky. The shooting had proved to have been a long hard slog for the blond too. Hutch would have preferred it if he'd been shot instead of his partner. For the blond to have to witness Starsky's battle back to fitness had been almost as painful as Starsky's physical pains, and added to that, he'd provided the emotional crutch the brunet had needed when things got tough or just too painful to carry on. During those first long dark months, the flaxen haired cop had put his own life on hold while he cared for his buddy and it was only once Starsky was back on his feet physically as well as metaphorically that he'd started to allow himself to live again. And then his long time friend Sarah had been there for him and their friendship had blossomed into something bigger and stronger and the previous month, after a heart to heart with Starsky, Hutch had finally got down on one (slightly arthritic) knee and handed a solitaire emerald cut diamond ring to his girl and asked her to marry him. Now, as the blond watched Starsky and his own woman dancing, he wondered if maybe there may be more proposals in sight.

Gina Bianchi was ten years the brunet's junior. At 25 years old, she was 5' 2" tall and slim but not skinny. Moss green eyes shone from a sweet face which was not pretty so much as classically beautiful and her eyes were fringed with lashes thick and dark enough to rival Starsky's own. Her hair was the darkest brown and shone black in most lights. She wore it long and it reached in a straight silky curtain down her back almost to her waist. Her clothes were simple, understated and inherently reflected the culture from which she had come. She was originally from Florence Italy, but came over to California when she was only 8 years old. From a land of beautiful people, she had the knack of making a sugar sack look like Dior or Channel and tonight she wore a simple black shift dress which skimmed her knee and accentuated her slim figure. Plain black court shoes completed her outfit which was set off by a single gold chain around her neck. Her voice was naturally low and husky and still retained some traces of an Italian accent, and it was that voice that had first drawn Starsky to the woman almost four months ago.

The two cops had been called to a robbery at a large lawyers' office in the centre of the city at 8:00am in the morning. It had been the end of a long and boring shift and Hutch had been tempted to tell dispatch to get someone else to cover it, but Starsky had turned his newly renovated Torino round in a broad U turn and headed uptown, while the blond had mildly protested. When they got to the office, they'd found the place to be a large firm of some twelve associates on the top floor of one of the city's newly built office blocks. All stainless steel and shining glass, the two cops dressed in jeans and tee shirts had looked and felt out of place amongst the fancy suited lawyers, the huge mahogany desks and the deep pile close carpeted offices.

They had been met by the man who owned and ran "Ramsey, Ramsey and Mahoney, Attorneys at Law" and had been bowled over by the man's attitude. Ian Ramsey was not only a successful lawyer specializing in defending big conglomerates sued for personal injuries by staff and customers, he was also a hard nosed businessman. He was a tall, floridly handsome man, standing over 6'4" tall and was muscular, his hours at his private gym and spa telling on the large chest and flat abdomen. His face was long and tanned and he had a sharp, square chin and strong jaw-line although his eyes were hooded and slightly cruel and were dark, dark brown. The only think not to like about him was that he had a limp, damp handshake that left Starsky wanting to dry his hand down the sides of his jeans.

They'd taken the details of the robbery efficiently while Ramsey had continued a tirade about the low lives of Bay City, the inadequacies of the police force and the complete lack of understanding the general public had for success in the town. By the end of the meeting, Hutch's face had turned from golden blond to turkey cock red and the blond was having difficulty biting back his comments. Starsky being Starsky however, had no such problems and as Ramsey assured them that if he, Ramsey didn't know who'd robbed him, and then he didn't think two uneducated and rough around the edges jobbing cops would have the first clue that'd done it, the brunet's patience had snapped. In no uncertain terms, the curly haired cop had told Ramsey that he'd rather be poking red hot skewers into his eyes than trying to catch the flake that had robbed an already obscenely rich man of some of the money he'd earned at the expense of ordinary people. But, Starsky had pointed out, he was a professional and had something a lawyer would know nothing about – that being integrity. And that only the integrity would ensure that both he and Hutch would do a thorough and professional job at solving the crime.

As the brunet had pushed his angry partner out of the room, he'd literally tripped over the girl on her way into work. She'd dropped a sheaf of papers onto the floor and they'd both bent down at the same time to pick them up, banging their heads in the process. As they'd stood up, Starsky had apologized and asked if she was ok, and Gina had asked him if he was hurt. Their eyes had met and if anyone soapy enough had asked, the brunet would have said it was love at first sight. They stood for a couple of seconds saying nothing before Ian Ramsey stood at the door of his office and barked for his PA to come in and stop acting like a teenage fool. She looked apologetically at the cop and mouthed sorry to him and on the spur of the moment, Starsky had taken her hand and asked if she'd have dinner with him that night.

To his surprise she'd agreed and over the course of the next week or so they saw each other almost daily and as they got to know each other, it became clear to Starsky that this might be the woman he could fall in love with. Gina seemed to think that she too could settle down with a curly haired exuberant puppy of a man and their relationship blossomed although it had not been without problems.

After their first date that night, Gina had gone into work the next day to face a man with a face like thunder.

'Where the hell were you last night? I needed the depositions for the Hilliard case typing up for today and I tried to ring you' he shouted.

'I…I was out. I had a date' she had said uncertainly. She'd come to Ramsey, Ramsey and Mahoney after being headhunted from their main competitors across the city and Ian Ramsey himself had come to see her to offer her a thousand dollars per year more salary, a company car, health benefits and use of a private health spa. The lawyer had fallen for her youthful good looks and the air of the exotic which her Italian accent could bring to his office and had seemed pleased with her performance, although she admitted to herself, he was a control freak and was also slightly creepy. He behaved as though he owned her both at work and out of it – as though she had no life to call her own and although she resented it, the benefits of working for him meant that she kept her mouth firmly shut.

'Out with who?' he had demanded.

'A man……my boyfriend.' She'd smiled to herself at the thought. She'd enjoyed her first encounter with the cop. He had an easy way with him and the ability to make her feel special just by being in the same room.

'I didn't know you had a boyfriend' Ramsey had said. 'Anyone I know?'

'Um…..no, not really.'

Ramsey had crossed the room to her, putting his finger under her chin as he drew her up to look into her eyes. 'And what sort of answer is "not really"?'

'Well, you don't know him, but you have met him' she'd explained reluctantly. That was the big thing about Ramsey; the secret to his success. He had an uncanny ability to wheedle information out of even the most tight lipped of individuals.

'And this mystery man is……?'

'He's called Dave Starsky. The cop that's investigating the robbery.'

'Oh Gina, darling! Why him? Why a low life like him? Trust me, my dear, policemen are almost as bad as the men they chase down and arrest. I know these things. You could do so much better for yourself. Take Philip in accounts. He's had the hots for you for some time. I could set you up if you like……'

'No, its fine…..honestly' she had hedged and had sat down to start typing the depositions, although from that moment on, Ian seemed to spearhead a vendetta against Starsky's name and all the men in the office offered her advice on how to dump the cop. He wasn't good enough; he'd never earn enough; she'd find someone who'd be able to keep her in the manner to which she'd like to become accustomed. And through its all she smiled politely and carried on with her dates.

Now Starsky nuzzled her neck as the music drew to a close. The new disco was right on the beach and as the final strains of "More Than A Woman" died away, they set off hand in hand down to the waters edge and stood watching the stars spread like a diamante throw across the velvety warm night sky.

'Do you want to come back for coffee?' Gina asked as Starsky put his arm round her shoulders.

'Sure, but don't ya have to be up for work tomorrow? Wouldn't want to piss King Ramsey off any more would we?' The brunet nuzzled her neck and kissed her lightly. The previous week had seemed to be filled with dates that had to be cancelled at short notice or with dates cut short because of Ramsey's requests.

'It will be fine' she assured him and followed hand in hand as he led her back to the car. They drove through the late night streets, Gina's head resting on Starsky's shoulder she tried not to think of the things they said about him at work. Oaf, cretin, lay about. All names that sprang to their lips, but she knew different and as she pushed open the door to her penthouse apartment, he pushed her back against the wall and kissed her fiercely.

'I think I love you, beautiful Italian lady' he breathed into her hair.

Her skin tingled at his touch and her hand reached for the buckle of his belt just as the telephone rang and ruined the mood.

'Don't answer it' he pleaded holding her close. She struggled to get free.

'I have to. We have an important case tomorrow.' She picked up the phone and the brunet saw the look of frustration flash across her face, knowing their date was at an end.

'I um….. I have to go. He wants me' she tried to explain.

'Just who are ya goin' out with here? Him or me?' Starsky snapped.

'You. I'm going out with you, but you know what he's like. I'm sorry Dave. I can see you tomorrow?'

'Yeah, sure, till ratfink calls again' Starsky replied angrily.

'It's not like that. You don't understand. He's good at his job and….'

'Oh my God! You really like him? You're prepared to go and work with him all night when we could….. What is it with you Gina? I thought what we had was something good?'

'It is Dave, it is' the girl whispered, tears coming to her eyes.

'Well if it is so good, tell him to piss off. Tell him he don't own you.'

'Don't do this to me Dave, please, don't make me choose. The job means a lot but you mean more to me.'

'Prove it Gina. Prove it by telling him you're having a night off.'

Gina looked at him in despair. 'I can't' she said softly.

'If you go back to work tonight, don't think I'll be waiting honey. I can't share you with someone else. If ya go now, I'll know it's not as serious as I thought' the brunet yelled angrily. She shook her head at him and reached for her coat. As she walked to the door Starsky picked his keys up and stalked out of the door in front of her.

Gina tried to run after him and as she watched his departing back she called after him.

'Dave….I love you…..'