A/N Welcome to the fourth collaborative effort between myself and the fabulous Donnamour1969! Writing with her is something I enjoy very much, and I'm thrilled that we're doing it again.

This will be the first time that we have worked off an idea of mine rather than Donna's and I can only hope that I can live up to the high standards she has set.

As always, when we write together you can expect some action, some mystery and a truckload of Jane and Lisbon love (and a little lust.) It will begin life as a 'T' rated story that will no doubt become 'M' at some stage.

I know I speak for both of us when I say how much I hope you will enjoy it.

It's my turn to do the opening chapter, so without further ado, here it is...

Chapter 1

Jane arrived at work to find a sticky note affixed to his new couch, a jarring spot of yellow against the cushions. Impossible to miss.

"Jane," it read. "Progress meeting at 11. Be there."

He recognised the flowing script of Kim Fischer, the distinctive loops on the 'g's a dead giveaway. He supposed this must be her attempt at asking him nicely to be present at this meeting. It needed some work. He crumpled the note up in his fist, contemplated throwing it back onto Fischer's desk, but tossed it into the trash instead. There'd be plenty of time to mess with her at the meeting after all, no doubt they'd be talking about paperwork and budgets and all the other tedious crap that went along with police work.

It was 8:40. Time enough for a quick powernap before the drudgery set in for another day. In the background, agents called out to each other, machines hummed and the smell of coffee permeated the air. He used to have no trouble falling asleep to the sounds of the crime-solving machine that was a police office building, but since South America, he'd been more accustomed to rolling waves, whistling wind and birdsong. He'd had the freedom to go to sleep and to get up whenever he liked, no rules, no obligations. Sometimes he missed it. His days spent in the pursuit of his own pleasures, and his nights in quiet reflection. It had been a mainly solitary existence, but he'd liked it that way. He'd never been one to need a lot of company.

He was woken by a gentle hand on his arm and a soft voice in his ear.

"Let's go, Jane. Meeting in five minutes."

He felt Lisbon's small hand shake him slightly in an attempt to rouse him. Once upon a time she would have simply kicked him to wake him up if she wanted something. As the years had gone on, the kicking had subsided, and he for one, certainly preferred the new approach. He liked that he could tell how close she was to him, just by her quiet breathing or the smell of her perfume, and her breath tickling his ear sent a pleasurable chill throughout his whole body. Even waking to the soothing ebb and flow of the ocean couldn't top that.

Opening his eyes to see her rosebud lips pursed in irritation at his laziness, but her beautiful eyes gazing down at him with that tiny glint of affection he'd come to look out for every time she looked at him.

The simple wonders of nature were all well and good, but there were certainly compensations to being Stateside again.

He huffed out a small laugh at his own sentimentality. Missing her for two years had turned his thought processes into those of a tortured hero in an Austen novel. His father would cringe if he knew. He'd discouraged emotion of any kind, particularly towards anybody outside the carnie life.

"You'll thank me for it one day, son." Jane still remembered the clink of the ice cubes as they were swilled around in his father's favourite glass. "There's only one person in the world you can trust absolutely, and that's yourself."

That was one of many things his father had been wrong about.

"Do I have to?" The words left his mouth like a petulant whine, and the roll of her eyes told him that this reaction had been expected.

"We all have to do things we don't like sometimes, Jane." Taking her cue from him, she addressed him in the same condescending tone as she would a toddler. "It's part of being an adult. Deal with it."

She looked up as Kim Fischer passed by, laden with files. The two women exchanged brief but friendly nods of acknowledgement, and he was glad. It had taken some time for Lisbon to begin to feel accepted by their new colleagues, tainted as she was by her association with him. She was far too stubborn to go out and make acquaintances herself, just kept her head down and got on with things, and they had started to see her in a whole new light. She had always had that ability, an aura of trustworthiness and all-around goodness that drew people to her.

The only downside to it was that now he had to get used to sharing her. Once he'd come back to the U.S he'd had the idea in his head that they'd go back to the way they'd used to be; he and Lisbon against the world. Instead, she was having coffee with Fischer on weekends, and attending after-work drinks with big groups of colleagues on Wednesday nights. She seemed happy to be included in the more social aspect of the FBI, but he found that he missed their quiet nights of the CBI era, when they'd talk and talk until just the two of them and Hans, the night cleaner were left in the building. It felt like a lifetime ago.

These days, he was lucky to get her alone for a few minutes at a time, before a case or an acquaintance came up demanding her attention.

"Come on," she urged him now. "We're going to be late." A glance at her arms revealed that she too, was carrying a bulging manila folder. She must have been hard at it this morning, while he'd been sleeping. He couldn't help the little smirk that formed at the thought; at least some things hadn't changed.

"You shouldn't work so hard," he said, stretching his arms towards the ceiling, and finally edging himself off the couch. "Who are you trying to impress, anyway? Fischer? Abbot?"

She glared at him. "I'm trying to put a killer behind bars. Which is more than can be said for you. Have you done anything productive this morning?"

He reluctantly fell into step beside her as they headed for the conference room. "Of course," he said, through a yawn. "Experts say that power napping at work can increase productivity by a significant percentage you know."

She snorted. "Two hours is not a powernap. It's just plain lazy. Don't," she added suddenly as he reached up to try and tidy his messy hair. "It looks better that way."

He let his hand fall to his side obediently, and caught the faintest tinge of a blush on her cheek as she turned her head away in embarrassment. She didn't speak again as they passed through the corridors, leaving him to ponder over when he'd started letting her opinions have such influence over his appearance. He'd planned to get rid of the beard once he'd got back to the States, but she'd liked it, so it had stayed. And if she had a preference for his hair tousled from sleep, then so be it, he wouldn't touch a comb for the rest of the day. Surely the fact that she paid enough attention to notice these things meant something, and the desire to be alone with her increased threefold.

"Let's go to lunch today," he said, as Fischer's bossy voice became audible from a room at the end of the corridor; the meeting had started. "After the meeting. We can go to that Italian place down the street you've been dying to go to."

She'd been mentioning it in passing for weeks, but with one thing and another, hadn't seemed to have the time to go. Putting the rest of the world first, as usual.

"We've got a case," she protested. "They need us here."

"They can spare us for an hour," he said airily. "Even crack investigative teams need to eat. And we'll be close by if something really urgent comes up."

He could see she was torn, as she often was, between her own desires and her sense of duty.

"We could bring the rest of the team too," she suggested. "Maybe the food and the change of scene will help us think." He shook his head. Dear Lisbon, always looking to find the compromise between work and play, but he was a man who preferred to deal in absolutes.

"I don't think so," he said firmly. "No work. Nobody else. Just us."

He silently willed her to understand his meaning. He wanted their old partnership back, even if just for an hour. He missed their friendship, the intimacy they'd once had, even if it wasn't quite the same intimacy he'd always hoped for. He wanted her to himself again.

She glanced back at him. "Why do you always have to make things so difficult?" she sighed. He grinned at her, recognizing the signs of her acquiescence. He could always tell when she was about to cave; her mouth always made itself into that cute little pout.

"Would you really want me any other way?"

As predicted, the progress meeting was hardly the exciting spectacle people imagined when they thought about federal agents at work. There was a lot less kicking down doors, and a lot more sitting around in conference rooms quibbling over statistics in crime fighting than people would expect.

He looked over at Lisbon, pen and notebook in hand, listening attentively as Fischer spouted out facts and figures. She'd chastised them both for their lateness, and while he had simply shrugged at the senior agent and taken his seat, Lisbon had apologised sincerely, and was now playing the part of the perfect schoolgirl to make up for it.

He let his mind wander as Fischer droned on. Agent Geraldson had overslept this morning, evidenced by his unironed shirt and the strong cologne he'd applied to compensate for skipping a shower. Agent Clark, seated by the window, was worrying about her sick son back at home. Chicken pox, he suspected; there was cotton wool protruding from the top of her bag and she carried a strong smell of calamine lotion with her. Agent Du Plant seemed to have popped an extra button or two on her blouse this morning, presumably for the benefit of Agent Reeves, whose eye she had been trying to catch for the last week. She was wasting her time there; he had felt Reeves' eyes on himself too often to believe he could be straight. Jane had to admit though that Reeves did an admirable job of concealing it; he was pretty sure that nobody else had caught on yet. Cho of course, ever stoic, listened calmly to the briefing, and ignored Jane's attempts to get his attention.

Fischer calling his name jerked him out of his quiet contemplation of his colleagues.

"Patrick? Do you feel you might honour us with your opinion? Or are we boring you?"

"You are boring me," he replied, calmly. The assembled agents snickered, but were silenced by a quelling look from their superior. "But I do have something to add."

He'd figured out their killer that morning, in between catnaps on the couch. When Fischer cast him a doubtful look at the name he told them, he simply smiled and explained in precise detail exactly what had drawn him to that conclusion. In spite of herself, Fischer looked impressed as he explained why and how their victim's brother had taken her life. Essentially, It had all come down to shoes in the end; there'd been a leaf from the murder scene stuck to the sole, and as for motive, it turned out to be a family squabble that hadn't been able to be fixed. Pretty run of the mill stuff really, which any trained FBI agent should have been able to figure out; but the series of dumbfounded looks from around the room told him that he had, once again, expected too much of the federal government.

Fischer's disgruntled expression was something to behold as he casually tossed out that opinion to the room. In response, the senior agent forbade him from accompanying them to the arrest, and set Lisbon the task of keeping watch on him until they got back. This suited Jane just fine, and he sensed, rather than saw Lisbon's smirk when she realized what he'd done. They now had an ironclad excuse to have lunch together, and with the rest of the team off chasing killers, he was almost guaranteed of their privacy.

Around him, agents began to gather up papers and rise from chairs as Fischer called an end to the meeting, and advised the team to prepare to pick up their suspect. Before anybody could leave however, the imposing silhouette of Agent Abbot appeared in the doorway, blocking the exit.

"All done in here, Agent Fischer?" he asked and she nodded.

"I think we've finally got the break we've been waiting for sir," she answered. "We'll have our man in custody within the hour."

"Excellent," he said briskly, before inclining his head in Jane's direction. "Jane can we have a word?"

Like most people, Abbot's personal office space was a reflection of himself; ordered and dull. Bare grey walls, no personal items on his desk and no indications at all of his life outside the office. Jane wondered if he had a wife or children, or even friends. He couldn't picture the man embracing a child, or sharing a romantic meal with a woman. He couldn't even see him sitting at a bar, nursing a beer and laughing with friends. He imagined the senior agent as a solitary being; not at all unlike himself, come to think of it. The idea was unsettling.

"I take it that the breakthrough Agent Fischer mentioned was your doing, Jane?" Abbot motioned for him to sit, and Jane reluctantly sank into the chair opposite his. He had been hoping to make this a short visit. Fischer had taken Lisbon aside after the meeting to discuss something with her but he had felt his partner's eyes on him as he followed Abbot from the room. Damn the man. He could be tucked into a booth at the Italian place right about now, gazing into Lisbon's beautiful jade green eyes, instead of here staring at Abbot's cold brown ones.

"What can I say? I have a reputation to uphold."

Abbot chuckled. "And don't I know it? That reputation of yours was the reason I spent two years, and exorbitant amounts of government money trying to track you down."

"Fischer tracked me down," Jane pointed out.

"Yes." Abbot gave a small, mocking smile. "Well you know what they say. Never send a man to do a woman's job."

Jane nodded his head briefly, acknowledging the jab. Clearly Abbot was of the opinion that he and Fischer had slept together in South America. He wondered if Abbot had been the one to select Kim Fischer for the job, had perhaps chosen her for her resemblance to the woman he'd been writing to those two long years. If so, he'd chosen well. Kim's dark hair and pale complexion had put Lisbon immediately into his mind when they'd met, but nobody could exactly replicate the warmth in her smile, or her gentle touch. Still, he could appreciate the clever touch to the plan; once again, something he himself would have done.

"I know there's a point here, Abbot," said Jane, in measured tones. "Instead of insulting both of our intelligences any further, how about you get to it?"

Abbot chuckled, leaning forward in his chair.

"Have it your way then." He reached into a drawer, pulled out a file, and slapped it down in front of Jane. "Do you recognise this man?" Without waiting for an answer, he ploughed on. "His name is Cesar Castillo, and he's the leader of the largest crime syndicate in the Americas. We've received intelligence that his group is responsible for supplying automatic weapons to several major criminal gangs, here in the States."

Jane studied the picture of a squat man, with a weather-beaten face, narrow shoulders and a large nose. He certainly didn't look the part of a dangerous criminal; though the masterminds rarely did. The more average the face, the better to move in and out of the public eye without notice. A quick glance over Castillo's rap sheet showed numerous offences but none of any particular note. Guns, drugs, women, money laundering, and so on.

"Well you've identified your man, and you know his crimes," he said, pushing the folder back to Abbot. "Congratulations. Go get him"

"Well that's just it, Jane," said Abbot. "We can't find him. The group moves around constantly, and our informants and our agents have the unfortunate habit of ending up dead."

"How inconvenient." Jane kept his tone even, but a cold feeling had begun to take up residence in his stomach. He had an idea where this interview was heading, and he didn't like it one bit. According to the file, the last known location of the syndicate's headquarters lay a mere few miles away from the village where he'd lived in South America. The idea of this kind of ugliness being in such close proximity to the idyllic little piece of paradise he'd known made him want to be sick.

For the first time, something like anger passed over Abbot's face. "Inconvenient?" he echoed. "I've lost five good people to them so far. Tragic would be the word I'd use."

"Tragic," Jane agreed. "So why are you so keen to add to the body count?" At Abbot's start of surprise, he rolled his eyes. "That is why I'm here, right?" he asked.

Jane had plenty of experience of paper-pushers in the top jobs dancing around sensitive issues and not getting to the point, even when they both knew exactly what they wanted to ask. To his credit, Special Agent Abbot was not one of them. Abandoning the pretence, he pushed the file back towards Jane once more.

"You're known in the community, so you won't draw as much attention as an agent. You speak some Spanish, and lies and deception are your bread and butter." Abbot ticked off points on his long fingers as he spoke. "You can certainly stay under the radar when you choose to, and I bet you have a list of shady contacts as long as your arm over there. You're the perfect choice."

"What an honour," said Jane flatly. "If I'm going to be sent to another country as cannon fodder, I wouldn't want to be underqualified."

"You'll link up with our small team in South America when you arrive," Abbot went on as if there had been no interruption, "but you'll work independently. You will locate the syndicate, and infiltrate it, gathering as much information as you can. Then, when we feel we have enough intel, you'll be removed and we'll make the arrest."

"It won't work. If you've been sending undercover agents in already they'll be even more distrustful than usual. You may as well save me a trip and shoot me here and now."

"Don't tempt me."

Silence fell as the two men held one another's gaze, and Jane experienced a sensation he'd only ever previously shared with Lisbon, a conversation without the use of words; Abbot giving the order, and himself refusing it. He did not sign on to the FBI to go traipsing through the South American jungle in search of gun-wielding maniacs. The only firearm he ever actually wanted in his life was Lisbon's Glock, and just because she didn't look herself without it.

"I'm not going," he said, breaking the silence as though he were shattering glass. "I'll take another round in the detention suite over a suicide mission."

"I thought you might say that. But it won't be a detention suite this time, Jane. It'll be federal prison for you. You agreed to work for us, and a large part of that is doing what you're told. Or is that something Lisbon never taught you back at the CBI?" A malicious gleam appeared in his eyes. "No doubt she had her own means of keeping you in line…" He trailed off into silence.

Hot anger began to rise in Jane's throat. He would happily take any insult thrown his way but he would not tolerate slights on Lisbon, especially not from the likes of Abbot, who wasn't fit to shine her shoes as far as Jane was concerned.

"Go ahead," he said stubbornly. "Throw me in prison." He'd done it before after all, he could do it again. Anything would be preferable to walking into the death trap Abbot seemed to be intent on sending him to. The other man regarded him for a moment as though trying to puzzle him out. Well, let him try. Many before had tried and failed. His fingers tapped on the shiny mahogany desk.

"No, I don't think so," he said at last, as softly as a jungle cat approaching it's prey. "Incarceration doesn't seem to bother you Jane, at least, not enough. I seem to recall you spent three months in that detention suite quite cheerfully, but a visit from Teresa Lisbon changed your mind. I'll be the first to admit that you have few weaknesses Jane, but she would be one of them."

Outside, a telephone rang, and they heard the muffled voice of a secretary answering it. He hoped it would be Fischer, demanding his presence back in the bullpen, but she probably wouldn't be back from the raid yet. Lisbon would probably have left for lunch by now. She'd be wondering where he was; possibly fearing he had stood her up. Given the choice, he would much rather be with her now, or anywhere but here.

Abbot leaned forward in his seat, making an imposing figure against the midday sun.

"Seeing as you don't seem to respond to normal forms of persuasion, let me put it this way," he said. "We have an opening in the New York field office, and I think Agent Lisbon will be a very good fit there." He paused momentarily to let the implication sink in. "I can have the transfer papers drawn up by next week."

"You can't do that," Jane snarled. "It's against the contract we signed."

Once again, Abbot smiled, pleasantly this time. "On the contrary, your 'contract' stated that I was to offer Lisbon a job with the FBI, which I have done. It specified nothing about what was to happen after that. I can send Agent Lisbon wherever I like."

He left it at that, settling back in his chair again, and waiting for Jane's answer.

He hadn't thought it possible, but Abbot had his back against a wall. Objectively, it had been a brilliant move on his superior's part, something Jane would have appreciated more had he not been battling the urge to throw something at him. The one thing he had refused to accept when he'd come back here was to be separated from Lisbon any longer, and now Abbot had used his affection for his partner against him. Perhaps it was poetic justice. After all, hadn't he done the exact same thing to her just before they'd taken down Red John?

It wasn't often that Patrick Jane was outplayed, and he didn't care for it at all. It was a choice between two evils, take off to South America for God knew how long and undoubtedly with no means of contacting her, or watch her be sent to the other end of the country and lose her anyway.

Agent Abbot waited, and savoured the rare gift of witnessing the great Patrick Jane on the back foot. He had been planning all day about the best way to propose the idea to him, and thought now that he could not have chosen better. Capturing Castillo would be the kind of coup that came along only once in a career. He could be promoted to the topmost rungs of the FBI, reach the dizzying heights that people had told him he was destined for since Quantico. To do it, he would need to put his best foot forward on the case; and Jane was it. He was arrogant, rude, disrespectful and a loose cannon in every respect, but he was also the best damn investigator Abbot had ever come across. He made a mockery of the job, but he got it done every time without fail.

So he'd taken a hint from the Godfather and made the man an offer he simply couldn't refuse. Teresa Lisbon was the key; the one chink in Jane's armour. He'd guessed as much when Jane had demanded her as one of his conditions, and observing them in the office had only strengthened the suspicions that were already there. Finally ,he'd been able to put them to use.

He could almost see the wheels turning in the consultant's head, knew his reason was battling with his pride. It had always been a risk, this plan, but he was banking on the hope that his fancy for Lisbon would cloud his judgement enough to win out.

Five tense minutes passed, and he willed himself not to break the silence. He must not speak, or blink, or give Jane any kind of ammunition against him. So he waited. Jane blew out a long sigh.

"You'll get yours one day, Abbot, and I can assure you that I'll look forward to it."

To some, it would have seemed like a threat, but to Abbot, it meant only one thing.

Victory.

The restaurant was filled with couples. Soft music swirled around the room along with the delicious smells of pizza and pasta. Even for a weekday lunchtime, the ambience was intimate and romantic.

Lisbon hadn't seen Jane since Abbot had come to collect him from the conference room, well over half an hour ago. God only knew what Jane had done this time. He and Abbot had never gotten on well.

A gilt-edged mirror on the opposite window drew her eye, winking in the sun. Her own reflection stared back at her and she studied it dispassionately. Her lipstick needed reapplying, she noticed. Would she have time to go to the bathroom and fix it before he got here? Probably not. She compromised by straightening her collar, and pushing some errant strands of hair back behind her ear.

Looking away from the mirror, she felt embarrassed at herself. Did she really think that these tiny adjustments would make Jane see her the way she'd always wanted him to? That the moving of her collar that quarter-inch would finally make him take off that wedding ring and tell her that she was the only one he could ever want? If she had the courage, she would have told him that a million times over by now. She didn't even remember how long ago she had fallen for him; it had seemed to become part of her now.

A bell above the door tinkled and in he strode, sea-green eyes darting around the room, searching for her. As always, the world seemed to stop as the eyes of the diners turned towards him, and the restaurant itself seemed to draw a collective breath. She didn't think she'd ever get used to that smile, she thought as he located her at last and walked over, beaming at her. She saw several women's eyes follow his progress across the room, and the flashes of envy when they landed on her. She felt no sympathy for them. If they only knew the trouble he caused, and the way he had toyed with her for ten years, they might not be undressing him with their eyes.

Oh, who was she kidding? Ten years on, and she still did it every day.

He forced himself to smile when he found her, sitting at a table near the back of the restaurant. She looked relieved to see him and well she might. Abbot had detained him for so long he thought she might have left.

Abbot. Just thinking about him made him angry. He'd had no alternative but to concede to the man's demands. Losing Lisbon to the New York office was out of the question. She'd already given her up her life to come here to Texas; she'd never forgive him if he were the cause of uprooting her again.

He was flying out to South America early the following day. Abbot had given him the rest of the afternoon off to pack and prepare, but he had been strictly forbidden to tell anybody where he was going. Including Lisbon. They'd argued that point for a long time, but the senior agent had been implacable; the mission was on a need to know basis and apparently his partner did not fit the bill.

She smiled at him as he sat down and said something about impossible bosses that he didn't quite catch. Even while fuming at Abbot, the sight of her still lifted his spirits. Her hair shone and her eyes sparkled under the soft lights. She was so beautiful, and now he had to find a way to tear himself away from her side. Again.

"What took you so long?" she asked as he discarded his jacket and reached for the menu.

A question he couldn't possibly answer truthfully. "Bureaucratic nonsense," he mumbled instead and she nodded, taking a sip of her water.

"I have to admit, I sure don't miss that," she laughed. "Abbot tried to talk you into not being a jerk to the press?"

It seemed like as good an excuse as any, and his answer came in the form of a shrug.

"Well, all power to him," she said. "I'd like to know if he ever figures out the secret. Professional interest." She smiled a little at her own joke, and once again, he found himself smiling back. He mustn't give her any indication that something was wrong, or he would never be able to shake her off when lunch was over. She would ask him and beg him to tell her what had happened and in his frustration, and his distress at having to leave her again, he just might tell her. And then they'd both be in trouble.

The waitress came to take their order and they chose a pizza to share. As they waited for the food she told him all about the arrest of their killer. Fischer and the team had brought him back without incident, but up till now, they still hadn't gotten a confession out of him.

"It's clear that he did it though," she said. "He's just smart enough not to talk. Although, Cho hasn't had a turn with him yet, and neither have you. Maybe you should try when we get back."

"I'm not going back today." He averted his eyes, but still noticed her flinch with surprise. "I've got things to do this afternoon. Cover for me with Abbot?" It was lucky he was such a good liar. It wasn't a skill he was particularly proud of, but it had it's uses.

She let her stern glare rest on him for a moment. "This isn't the same as cutting class you know. One day, Abbot isn't going to believe me anymore, and then where will you be?"

Quickly, Jane steered the conversation away from their boss, and they spent a happy ten minutes catching up on office gossip. Had talking to her always put this swooping feeling into his stomach, or was it just because he'd be leaving her soon that made him feel this way? He watched her in awe as she told a long story, every tiny movement fascinating, a thing of unequalled beauty. They'd wasted so much time. He'd never kissed her, never truly held her, never spent the night with her. He'd always thought she'd be as passionate in bed as she was in the workplace. Tenacious, and yet tender, somehow managing to be angry and so loving all at once.

He could do it tonight, he thought, as the pizza arrived and she was distracted by thanking the waitress. He could take her home; seduce her, make love to her in her bed. It wouldn't be difficult. They both wanted to. There was still time.

Her skin would be so soft; her lips so delicious, her voice breathless as she sighed his name. He would tell her he loved her as she fell asleep. And again when he woke up and left her alone again. But he couldn't do it to her. He at least owed her that.

"What are you thinking?" she asked him, after the waitress had left. "You've got a really weird look on your face. Like your mind's a million miles away."

He chuckled. "Not quite that far," he said. If only she knew. "Let's eat."

Somehow, some way, his saintly Lisbon managed to distract him from anything else. Even his anger with Abbot took a back seat as they talked and laughed together. The pizza slowly disappeared piece by piece and the time seemed to fly. Their lunch hour had long passed but he didn't care. If things went badly in South America, he might never see her again. He took the opportunity to catalogue as many of her features as he could, all the expressions in her face, and the many hues of green in her eyes.

She had a bit of cheese on the side of her face, gone unnoticed as she told him about Fischer's boyfriend trouble, as she'd found out at coffee last week. Picking up his napkin, he reached over and gently wiped the offending cheese from her cheek.

She froze as the linen touched her cheek, the intimate gesture apparently unexpected, and her eyes met his again, questioning, and to his despair, hoping. She wanted so little from him and yet he disappointed her every time.

He let the napkin fall to the table, but his hand remained, stroking her cheek. She closed her eyes at his touch. He could lean right over, kiss her now, whisper in her ear.

With a clattering sound, the waitress returned, gathering up their empty plates as she did so. The spell was broken. They had to leave now, or he was sure that he would do something he would come to regret. They paid the bill and stood under the shaded walkway outside the restaurant.

She tried to talk him back into coming back to work, but he refused, wishing he could tell her why.

"OK, then," she said with a shrug. "See you tomorrow then, I guess."

It was here. The final moment. But how to say goodbye to her? A handshake seemed too formal, a hug, not formal enough, and she'd suspect something was up. And he couldn't just say goodbye to her casually as though they'd see each other tomorrow, when they might never see each other again.

He took her hand in his and threaded their fingers together, feeling her pulse skittering. He would have loved to know what she was thinking. He was thinking of her lithe body naked in his arms. Holding her. Tasting her. Loving her.

"Jane?" Her voice was quiet, questioning. "What are you doing?"

He wanted to pull her into his arms. Instead, he squeezed her slender hand once, and then let it go. He heard her let go of a breath she'd been holding then, and knew that he had disappointed her again, possibly for the very last time.

And then, for the umpteenth time, he walked out of her life.

A/N So that is chapter 1. I'd love to hear what you thought of it, and I really hope you'll stick around to find out what awaits our dynamic duo.

For now, Donna, I'm tapping you in.