Hello, all! Finally, it's here! This story is Tara's POV during Diamonds in Her Eyes. A lot of people have been requesting this and I've been meaning to post it for quite some time. So, the wait is finally over and I hope you enjoy!

Linny

Green Eyed Monster

Chapter One

I never used to be one for warm and fuzzy moments. In fact, there had been a time in my life when then only thing that had been warm or fuzzy about me was my fleece Eeyore pj pants with the matching slippers. But all of that changed a few years ago during a case when I was basically a plaything for a small-time criminal. It had been the first time I'd cried in years.

See, when I was younger—just twelve-years-old—my parents were killed by a drunk driver and I went to go live with my grandmother. My mom and dad had been two of the greatest people in the world and I was crushed when I was told that they wouldn't be coming back. As far as I remember, that was the last time I'd cried.

Grandma raised me the best she could. She gave me all of the love and affection she could offer, but I never wanted any of it. All I'd ever wanted was for my parents to come back to me. It was a ridiculous wish—I even knew that back then—but I was still a lost little girl who wanted her mommy and daddy to hold her one last time.

So what did I do? I buried myself in my schoolwork. I worked really hard, skipping a few grades and even graduating at sixteen-years-old. I was in my second year at Stanford when I got word that Grandma had died. I was devastated, because though I never showed it, I still loved her with all my heart. Yet, I never shed a single tear and I wouldn't. Not again until the whole ordeal with Crazy Loco.

That would be the time when I would finally be able to bring myself out of the darkness and become the woman my parents had always hoped I'd be.

And I'd stayed on track, especially with one shining light guiding my way. Bobby. I smile just thinking about him even if he is just sleeping in the other room.

We'd started off as friends; coworkers. But when I'd joined the FBI, I was more interested in proving my worth than finding my match. Little did I know that that tactic would make all the men around me consider me "just one of the guys". That was pretty embarrassing to say the least. But not important to my story.

As the years progressed and Bobby and I starting working closer together, I started noticing more things about him. Of course, he was adorable. I could tell you that the first time I'd laid eyes on him. But it was during those long hours that I realized that there was more to him than an accent and a pair of dimples.

And then there had been the whole Mojo Gogo incident. It wasn't one of the highlights of my life, let me tell you. I mean, the kiss had been… phenomenal. There is just no other way to explain it. It had been shocking and sweet and so toe-curling wonderful that I'd regretted that it hadn't been longer or more intense.

Of course, it had been intense enough. I'd never felt anything so powerful before in my life. It had been a complete shock to my system. So unforgettable. So… perfect.

The only problem was that I was still kind of with Stanley and he was still getting used to the fact that he and Darcy were broken up. It was so perfect and of course with my luck, it had to happen at the worst possible time. We were destined to be together and yet the timing just plain ol'… sucked.

That was why I'd been the perfect candidate for my last undercover mission. I was single and I was female; both pluses when it came to the higher ups. Plus, there was the fact that I was an expert in surveillance. I was supposed to meet up with a suspected jewelry thief—he and his group of merry men had been wreaking havoc across the country; if the state had a big city, you could bet they'd been there—and get close enough to him to find out his next few targets.

I'd risked both my sanity and my heart for that case, not to mention my car. Terry—whose real name was Ethan Maxwell—was a jerk. There is no other way to describe him. He was a conceited, self-centered jerk. He had money and he was proud of it. In fact, he never hesitated to mention his finely-tailored suits or his expensive cars—kind of like Myles, just worse. Much, much worse.

At least you could get Myles to shut up about his Armani suits. Terry-slash-Ethan could go on for hours about how finely-crafted the silk lining was. And I'm not exaggerating here. I literally mean hours.

The guy was so pompous it made my skin crawl at just the thought of him touching me. So when he asked me to marry him after only knowing him a week and a half, I did the most logical thing. I said 'yes'. Believe me, if it hadn't been for a case, I probably would have ended up dumping a bowl of scalding hot soup in his lap and watching with pleasure as he writhed in pain. This guy was that bad.

And again, my light at the end of the tunnel took the form of a six-foot-four Aussie with a great smile and even better sense of humor.

Of course, when I first revealed to the team that I was marrying Terry-slash-Ethan, Bobby wasn't too pleased. At first, I thought it was because he was pulling the old protective brother act, but there'd been more to it than that. A lot more.

Bobby loved me. He'd told me so out on the front step of my house—the very same place where we'd shared our first kiss. And then he'd promptly erased all of the memories of that infamous evening, replacing them with fresh, new and exciting ones. But we still had one problem. The jewelry thief who was having an identity crisis. I was still engaged to him and he was still eager to get married before the week was out.

That was when I knew I had to get the help of my teammates. They'd help me take down Terry-slash-Ethan and put my life back to rights. And after days of waiting and planning, the take-down finally occurred. It would have been perfect too, if Terry-slash-Ethan hadn't been the slippery little slug that he was. Bobby had pursued him and had gotten shot for his effort. And still, Ethan had managed to slip away from the agents in the fray.

I saw him making his escape as I was sitting in the surveillance van, so I did the only thing I could think to do. I took out my service weapon and fired. But I didn't kill him, despite the fact that I so terribly wanted to. He'd hurt the man I loved and for that he would need to be punished. But that was for the system to decide, not me. Though, he was lucky all that he got was a bullet to the leg.

Bobby was released from the hospital that Sunday evening after the take-down. His injury hadn't been severe, yet he would need to take it easy for a couple of days. That was how he'd ended up staying with me at my townhouse. With his arm in a sling, his mobility had been compromised. And that meant he would need constant companionship for at least a week until he regained at least partial motion back.

I still wonder how it ended up being my place he would stay at. Thinking back on it now, everyone else had probably been in cahoots, making certain it was me Bobby ended up staying with. One lame excuse after another had been shuffled around until I was the only one left holding cards. I'd been played like a sucker.

But I wasn't about to complain. Bobby and I had still had a few unresolved issues and I'd figured that with him staying with me, it would be the perfect reason to get them out in the open. Of course, I'd never expected that I would have to be the one to help him dress—or rather undress. Don't ask me why it never occurred to me. I'd probably blocked that thought out completely, given all of the Bobby-esque fantasies I'd been having around that time.

And let me tell you, the fantasies don't even come close to the real thing. Despite the fact that I knew he needed his rest, I couldn't resist the allure he held during that moment when we'd been standing in the guest bedroom, his shirt having just been discarded and tossed to the floor.

Remembering how we'd made love that night still makes me blush. It had been so magical and he'd been so gentle and patient with me. I don't have much experience with the physical side of affection, yet Bobby had taken it all in stride. He'd even allowed me to set the pace and gave me every possible opportunity to back out. But I loved him too much to pull away.

His kiss had been hot and demanding, sending my mind reeling and my toes curling with need too intense to describe. I fell in love with him all over again that night.

And again the next day. We woke up to a crisp winter morning. Thick drifts of snow were still laying on the ground, coating my miniature backyard until it mimicked a small winter wonderland. We'd been given the day off so I could help Bobby get settled to help his recuperation, yet he seemed to be handling it all just fine. I've, personally, never been shot—knock on wood—but I'd expected him to be in a lot more pain. So, either he wasn't feeling it or he was hiding it from me.

I hadn't wanted to dwell on that then and even as I write this, I still don't. All that mattered to me then was that he was safe and he was happy. I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost him that day.

It was best not to even think about that.