DISCLAIMER: No copyright infringement is intended, and I make no claims on "Body of Proof". I am humbly grateful for the opportunity to play with some of the characters.

AND SO I SAID, "WHO DOESN'T?"

It just isn't fair. A sweet guy like Tommy Sullivan all hung up on a sarcastic, ill-tempered shrew like Megan Hunt.

I'm Officer Riley Dunn. At least, that's how he sees me - just another uniform. For the longest time, he didn't even know my first name. I like my job and I'm good at it. Hope to make detective myself one day, but not until I get a little more experience. Maybe five or six years down the road.

I've had a romance or two, nothing serious. It's not easy sustaining a relationship when you're a cop. Civilians don't understand the pressures of the job. Another cop only works if you're very, very lucky. But the first time Tommy walked through the door, I took one look and felt my heart start flopping around like a perp zapped with a taser.

Okay, so he's ten or twelve years older than me. Older men are hot. Experienced. Know what to do to make a woman feel wonderful in bed. Oh, ghod, what am I thinking?

Okay, so he's a superior officer, and rules against fraternization are strict. Maybe, since I'm a 'uniform' and he's in the detective unit we might squeak by on a technicality if someone ratted us out - Oh, ghod, what am I thinking?

But the biggest stumbling block to my little fantasies ever coming true is Dr. Hunt. I've seen how the know-it-all M. E. treats him and wondered why he doesn't tell her to take her attitude and shove it. I asked a few questions. No one in our precinct knows much about Sullivan's past, but I did discover he and Hunt have history. From the looks of it, he's never gotten over it. What chance does a lady cop have of breaking through a barrier as impregnable as that?

So, I've bided my time. Made myself useful. Hidden my delight when we worked a case together. Kept my cool when he chose me to back him up when the rabies case came along. Then I damn near let him get chewed to pieces by that maniac hiding in the old warehouse.

We'd crept into a dark, echoing building, just me, Tommy, and another uniform. I didn't like it one bit when Tommy split us up, but it wasn't my place to argue. I was too far away to help when I heard the commotion - cans crashing to the floor, shelves tipping over, the hideous growling of some crazed animal. Without a thought for my own safety, I charged back the way I'd come, searching for the corridor Tommy had chosen. When the shot came, my heart simply stopped. Didn't start up again until I saw Tommy staggering to his feet. The bad guy was down, Tommy was bleeding, but alive. Thank you St. Michael the Archangel!

After letting him almost get killed, I wasn't sure how he'd react when I tracked him down at the medical center to deliver a report I knew he needed. He sounded pissed when he left the autopsy room to see what I wanted. Maybe he was just surprised to see me in 'civvies'. I'd taken time to change into something feminine, brush out my hair, dab on some blusher, and spritz on a mist of Chanel No. 5. I must have looked worried because the first thing he did was assure me the incident at the warehouse was no black mark against me. I took a deep breath of relief, forgetting I'd put on a sweater that was maybe a little too snug for someone who's built like me. It definitely got his attention. Had he finally realized there's more to me than a Kevlar vest?

His smile as he thanked me for bringing the report made me go all gooey inside. And made me hurt all the more for him. I saw the look Dr. Hunt shot me when Tommy came out to see why I was there. She doesn't want him, but she doesn't want him to have someone new, even just a friendly colleague. Bitch.

I don't know what transpired between them after he shot Mason Geary. I was busy at the station, writing reports. When he came in, he looked like a beaten man. My heart ached for the guy. Hoping to cheer him up, I blurted the first thing I could think of. "That was some fancy shooting earlier." After the last couple of days, it was probably the last thing he wanted to hear. But he thanked me and made some self-deprecating comment about what would have happened if he'd missed.

And then he asked if I liked hockey. Huh?

"Of course," I said. "Who doesn't?"

Not quite meeting my eye, he casually mentioned having tickets to the next Flyers game. "I'd love to go," I told him, and he looked so surprised I had to fight back a giggle.

Fight back a giggle? I wanted to jump up and down and squeal my delight. Spin in circles 'til I was dizzy. It took all my willpower to act like a sane, sensible co-worker arranging to attend a sporting event with someone from the office. Reminding myself the only reason he'd asked me was because Megan had undoubtedly turned him down helped dampen my enthusiasm to a manageable level. And one other minor problem.

Time for a reality check: Off duty, I'm a girly girl. I hate sports! I've never attended a hockey game in my life.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I invite any other writers to take up the story from here. What happens on their way to the arena when Tommy starts talking hockey, and Riley doesn't have a clue what he's talking about?