I promised Natalie Elizabeth, Celeste J. Evans and beatingoutasamba that I would write each of them a Christmas story. I should have known better than to plan to write four stories (I also signed up for the Secret Santa story exchange that beatingoutasamba put together) in December. Next year, I will start them much earlier. Here is your story, Celeste. When I asked you only said that you wanted a longer story; this one will be at least three chapters and a minimum of 5,000-10,000 words long.

Hopefully I'll get the fourth story written soon. That's one of my New Year's resolutions-spending more time writing.

Disclaimer: If only…. ;)

December 2008

"I promise I don't bite."

Kate Beckett froze. She knew that voice.

But what would Richard Castle, ultra-rich and wildly popular with the female upper crust of Manhattan, be doing at a Christmas masquerade party that the mayor had decided to throw for the city's fellow public servants? Most of the attendees wouldn't make as much money in their lifetime as he made with one book.

She had to make a decision. Because at that very moment she was standing under the mistletoe with the famous author. Her favorite author. The man who had unknowingly gotten Kate through her mother's death with his written words.

It was an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. One she had secretly fantasized about off and on for at least a good five years.

Just pretend he's a colleague, Kate tried to tell herself.

Like that would work. She might as well imagine he was an alien, too. Because that would be as plausible as the idea of Richard Castle working with the NYPD.

Castle-she decided to think of him that way, to put some distance between them, at least in her own mind-lightly touched either side of her jaw with his fingertips. They were lightly callused, something to be expected for a writer. But they were warm. And so gentle, almost tentative.

If he had grabbed her and pulled her to him, she would have pushed him away. If he had started kissing her the second he realized they were under the mistletoe, she would have used her skills as a cop and had him on the floor. And it wouldn't take him long to figure out that it wasn't for fun and games, because her right foot, clad in one of her favorite high heeled boots, would be on his throat. Cliché, but no one pushed her to do anything unless she allowed it.

But he was asking. He was waiting.

He was trailing his fingers up her jaw, skimming them across her cheeks, burying them in her hair.

The hands that had written words that had been her lifeline were now in her hair.

Kate could barely wrap her mind around that.

His blue gaze was calm, steady. Kate knew with that look he was saying, If you want this, it's up to you. This is as far as I'll go.

She wanted it. But giving into want was weak. Kate was anything but weak.

Although he had no idea who she was. And she would never see him again.

So she was going for it.

Except-

Castle may not know who she was, but there were others at the party who did.

Kate had worked long and hard to get the respect she now had as a cop, as a homicide detective. Normally she didn't care what others thought of her, but it was different with her job. Being a female cop in the nation's biggest city was difficult enough without added heckling over actions that were seen as unprofessional and 'girly.'

So maybe-

Screw it. If she took any longer to decide, that would just make her look indecisive. Not to mention ridiculous.

Her small nod of acceptance as she cupped his elbows in her hands was all he seemed to need.

Thoughts of what others would think all came to a screeching halt when his lips touched hers. In the brief moment before her eyes drifted closed, he remained still, his lips unmoving, merely softly resting against her own.

But then she unintentionally let out a small sound of impatience.

Kate heard his chuckle right before he tilted his head and started caressing her lips with his own. He didn't try to deepen the kiss, didn't try to close the distance between them. He seemed perfectly content with this chaste kiss that made Kate feel like some kind of freaking Disney princess.

It was enough to drive her crazy.

He had promised her he wouldn't bite.

Well then, she would.

Kate parted her lips against his just enough to nip at the right corner of his bottom lip, swiftly sliding her tongue over it to sooth the slight sting.

Castle must have gotten the message because with a groan he put his hands on her hips and pulled her against him as his tongue slipped past her parted lips. The tip of his tongue glided along the roof of her mouth before swooping down to play with hers.

And that's what it felt like. Playing. Kate had never had a kiss before that was so carefree and just downright fun.

Until he broke his promise and his teeth captured her bottom lip and gently bit down. Complaining or pulling away was the furthest thing from Kate's mind. Desire flared. Playtime was over.

In a flash Kate's hands were around his waist. A small moan escaped before she could stop it but she was beyond caring. She needed to feel as much of him as she could for as long as she could.

The whistles and cheers that suddenly broke out reminded her that this wasn't the time or the place.

Kate dropped her hands from his waist and reluctantly, although quickly, broke off the kiss. She was about to push him away from her when she realized that he had already removed his hands from her hair. She reluctantly lifted her gaze to his, bracing herself for the smirk she was sure would be on his lips.

Only she was wrong. There was no smirk, just a slight smile and a dazed look in his eyes.

Clearly Castle was as impacted by the kiss as she was.

Which, come to think of it, was not a good thing.

Kate had to get out of there before she did something stupid.

The Cinderella fairytale-the Disney version; the original version was more fitting for one of her crime scenes than a fairytale-flittered through her mind as she turned and hurried out the door.

At least if he did try to search for her-which she highly doubted-she had one thing in her favor: there was no way either of her tight black boots would slip off of her feet.

March 2009

As soon as she stepped foot in the room Kate knew what she was going to have to do. She doubted that he actually killed Alison Tisdale. She knew from his official fan site that he had a book launch party for his latest Derek Storm novel and chances were good that he was there during the time of death. But the crime scene was too similar to the one in his book, Flowers For Your Grave, for her to not bring him in. Especially since this was the second crime scene in recent weeks to be patterned after one of his books.

Kate put off admitting what she knew for as long as she could. Her avid Richard Castle fan status was a closely guarded secret, particularly from anyone at the 12th. She knew she was going to open herself up to a round of teasing once Ryan and Esposito found out. But it couldn't be helped. Embarrassment was a small price to pay for justice.

At least they didn't know about the kiss. Not even Lanie knew about that. She shuddered to think of how much worse things would be if they all knew.

No one argued when Kate said that she would be the one to bring the author in. Hiding her nervousness behind her professional demeanor, Kate made her way through the mob of fans. Flashing her badge was enough to get all but the most aggressive fans to step aside. She had to threaten one with arrest for obstruction of justice before she moved out of the way. Finally she found him, sitting at the bar. Instead of being surrounded by a giggling group of women as she had expected there were only two, neither of whom were giggling. One was obviously still a teenager and the other appeared to be at least a good twenty years older than the late thirties she knew his age to be.

The older woman had left the writer's side by the time she approached.

"Just once, I'd like someone to come up to me and say something new," Kate overheard him say to the teen. As much as she wanted to laugh-she doubted he'd experienced being arrested at one of his own parties before-Kate hid it behind a serious expression and a stern gaze.

"Mr. Castle," she called out, internally bracing herself. If he recognized her she would have to work twice as hard to get him to take her seriously as a cop. She'd read enough articles on page six and watched enough interviews to know that he was used to women falling at his feet. If he thought her actions at that Christmas masquerade party would be repeated here or anywhere any time in the future, he was going to be in for a rude awakening.

"Where would you like it?" Castle asked, turning to face her with a pen in his hand.

The question reminded her of the rumor that he routinely signed women's' chests.

Never going to happen. Not with her.

"Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD." She held up her badge to back up her statement. "We need to ask you a few questions about a murder that took place earlier tonight…."

I have the story mapped out in my head, but...if there are any scenes you want me to use (especially Celeste, but this question is for everyone) that you think would work well with this premise, let me know. I can't promise anything because of where I have decided to have this story veer off of the canon timeline (only beatingoutasamba and I know at this point :) ) but I'd love to hear your ideas. Also-Celeste, if this had been any other story but yours, I would have asked you directly-which is the episode where she first pushed him away by putting her hand on his chest and which is the first episode where she poked him like she did in the 'To Love And Die In LA' episode? Do you, or does anyone else, know?