AN: In between the drama of my epic, light and fluffy struck. I hope you enjoy...

"So…Lynch wasn't it?" Derek questioned, spearing a meatball chunk and dipping it into the rather luscious looking Alfredo sauce on his best friend's plate.

"I guess not, and…eww!" she answered in a huff. "Derek, you got cow juice mixed with my Alfredo!"

This was a cardinal rule not to break with her, considering she was a vegetarian. "I did not."

She frowned and pointed indignantly to the plate. "Look at that browny-grayish looking stuff."

Taking his bread stick, he reached over and scooped up the trace of meat. "There. Okay, now?"

Nodding, she gave a satisfied nod and took a bite of her fettuccine.

Derek grumbled to himself, hoping he was keeping a better poker face than how he felt inside. She was being remarkably close lipped about everything, and it was driving him crazy.

Earlier this week, Penelope Garcia had surprisingly and unexpectedly called off her four year relationship with Kevin Lynch. This was something Derek had been waiting for since the first time he'd realized they were dating. Lynch and Garcia were a desperately awful paring; everyone knew it, it seemed, except for the pair in question.

Unlike Morgan and Garcia, he thought…that was a match made in heaven.

He wasn't there to push. Oh, no, no, no. These things needed to be dealt with delicately and with discretion. He wanted to scope out how she felt, although he was pretty damned sure of his standing with her, and see what was happening in that clever mind of hers.

"Penelope," he urged gently. "What happened?"

She paused in the middle of taking her next bite and met his eyes. A second later, she laid her fork down on the plate. "A romance novel happened."

He frowned, confused. "What?"

"About a week ago, I was reading a novel by J. Rarden, a bodice ripper with a really good looking Fabio-like hunk and a woman, complete with heaving breasts, draped in his arms on the cover."

Chuckling, he asked, "Fabio? I didn't think you were into those things."

"Normally, I don't read those kinds of things," she said, waving her hand in dismissal, "but Claire in the Tech Pool told me it was uber-good and I had to read it."

"Claire suggested The Notebook, and you cried for a week afterward," he said, taking another bite of spaghetti.

"Well, yes," she admitted, "but that was excellent, too. Claire has good taste, so I decided to go for it."

"And?"

"It was good, Morgan. It was wonderful." She smiled softly and sighed wistfully. "It was like nothing I'd ever read before. I felt…I felt like her. Like Marguerite."

He grinned at her, glanced at her chest, and then winked teasingly. "You do have the right equipment, sugar."

She rolled her eyes in a huff. "Not like that. Emotionally. I totally related to that character. She was me, D."

"Okay, honey," he said simply. He wanted to encourage her to talk, not force her, and one note answers usually did that for her, made her expound on her answers. A second later, he was proven right.

"She was so in love, Derek," she answered enthusiastically. "She felt magic in kisses, pain and heartbreak, and true passion. She had a man that would live and die for her, he loved her so much, too."

He smiled gently. "Sounds wonderful, baby."

"It was. It felt so real," she said, still smiling. But then her grin started to fade, and she grew wistful. "The problem is... it made me want more.

"I realized I didn't have that with Kevin," she added. "That spark, that fire, has been missing forever. I don't think it was ever there. Instead, I had complacency—an adequate relationship. I sacrificed fire for warmth, passion for friendship, peace and control for something that may be worth fighting about." She looked over at him, the heartbroken expression on her face taking his breath away. "Fighting for."

She shook the look off a moment later, smiled, and picked up her fork. "So I decided if Marguerite could have it, so could I." She took a bite of her pasta.

"That's true," he murmured.

She nodded. "Yep. I dumped the man I thought I loved, and I am in searching for one I really can love. One who can show me what she felt."

"Sounds like a good plan."

Grinning at him, she added, "At thirty-nine, I think it's finally time for me to have a kiss that curls my toes and make me weak at the knees."

He paused and looked at her. "Never had one of those?"

"Nope," she said. "Never."

"Is that your prerequisite for this man?" he asked, arching a brow at her. "Weak knees and curled toes?"

Penelope couldn't help but giggle. She hadn't been looking forward to having this conversation with Derek, but now, she was glad she was. He listened intently, hanging on her every word.

He was her best friend, she could tell him anything, but relationships were usually the kind of thing she reserved for JJ or another girlfriend instead. It was kind of awkward, especially since she'd harbored feelings for him for a long time.

She loved D, very much, but she never thought it would move past their sweet and hot flirtatious friendship. She knew others believed it could and anticipated once she was done with Kevin, she would get with Derek. That wouldn't happen; they weren't like that. Well, he wasn't like that. She had always been glad she had Kevin…so that she didn't look like she was pathetically panting after Derek.

"Well…not my only one," she said with a grin. "I'd like him to have some of the other attributes in that book."

He smirked at her. "The ability to swordfight?"

"Oh, of course!" she teased, placing a hand on her chest and her arm over her eyes, like a damsel in distress.

His smirk turned into a genuine grin, then. The kind that had tiny wrinkles by his dancing eyes with pure joy radiating from him—the kind made her heart skip beats every time. He moved his plate aside, leaned forward, and picked up his wine glass. "What else, momma?"

"Really?"

He took a sip and said softly. "Yeah, really."

"Integrity. Courage. Strength," she began. "The ability to stand up for the underdog. A sharp wit. Great sense of humor…gentleness at the right times…"

Her words started getting jumbled in her head. Everything she'd said, each fantastic quality her perfect hero had…described Derek Morgan to a tee. Her heart panged so loudly in her chest, she was sure he could hear it.

No wonder she could sympathize so well with the heroine…she was in love with the same man!

"Keep going," Derek encouraged, still watching her with those unreadable, twinkling dark eyes.

Shaking off that feeling, she went for light and breezy again, to save her heart from pain. "Well, he has to be tremendously handsome, too….Preferably with a scar or two from battle."

Derek beamed at her. "Can he have all his teeth and both eyes?"

She pretended to ponder. "I suppose. The author never mentioned if Marcus had a patch."

"But I'm sure she mentioned his good sized sword," he remarked, exaggerating the last word.

"Morgan!" she exclaimed, blushing despite herself.

"What?" He arched a brow at her, but his eyes were teasing. "You said he was a swordfighter."

"It is nice to have a man who can handle his sword," she teased along with him, but then admonished him anyway, "Smart ass."

His brow was still up. "Nice one of those, too?"

She took a sip of her wine, and then answered bluntly, "Hells, yes."

Derek beamed at her again. "That's my girl."

"Excuse me," the server said, stepping up to the table. "Would you two care for any dessert?"

Derek looked over at her. "Baby?"

Penelope was stuffed, but would've loved a tiramisu. Unfortunately, she had to get up early the next day and needed to sleep. "No, thank you."

"Then here is the bill. You can pay me when you're ready," she said, placing the folder on the table.

Derek scooped it up quickly and put his gold card in before Penelope could say a word. "You can take it now."

"Thank you, sir."

Penelope huffed. "D. You do not always have to pay."

"It's my pleasure, sweetheart."

Before she could respond, the server was back with the folder. Derek signed with a flourish, and then stood and stretched a hand out to her. "Come on. I'll walk you to your car."

Once they exited the restaurant, Penelope folded her arm around Derek's and they started the two block trek to her parking spot. It felt so good, walking with him. It was a chilly fall night; she hadn't worn a jacket, and he was warm and cozy. She leaned a little closer to his side.

"So, if you met this man," he began again, "if he had most of those things you asked for…would you fall in love?"

She scoffed. "If this fantasy man existed, then sure. He'd be perfect for me."

"Why do you think he doesn't exist?"

"I've met a lot of men," she quipped honestly. "The only one that perfect is you, honey, and you're my best friend."

That earned another grin. "Me, huh?"

"Don't get a big head," she said quickly. "You and me...we'd never work."

"Really..."

His tone didn't sound too happy about her assessment of them. It confused her, made her insides do crazy things.

"We're too close," she said.

"Your search for the romance novel man..." he said, slowing down. They had almost reached her car. "It's a decent plan."

"I think so."

"But Penelope," he added, "you forgot one more thing you need."

Something in the way he looked at her increased her pulse rate and made her breath come quicker. "What is that?" she choked out above her suddenly dry throat.

He reached up the small distance between them and trailed his fingertip down her cheek, causing her to shiver—and not from the cold. "Good ol' fashioned chemistry," he murmured huskily, deep in his throat, like the purr of a lion. "Something we got going in spades."

"Derek..."

She had known he was going to kiss her, could sense it the moment before he'd touched her. As if time were moving in slow motion, she could feel his arms wrap around her, feel the press of her soft body against his, and the heat of his breath against her mouth as he lowered his head. He brushed his lips once, twice over hers, tasting, teasing, testing the waters. It was sweet, gentle, a reverent caress of sorts that made her sigh softly.

And then he folded her into his embrace and really kissed her.

His kiss was commanding, coaxing and demanding a response from her. She opened her mouth to the searching heat of his tongue, could taste heady Italian spices they'd both consumed, and clean, sweet, delicious male. She was getting drunk off of him, high from the amount of desire—of pure, unadulterated want—she could feel in his kiss.

She had wanted to keep her eyes open, to watch the beauty—Derek was beautiful, even if he was a man—that was him kissing her. It wasn't every day a girl got kissed by someone like Morgan! But try as she might, she couldn't keep her eyes from closing, couldn't keep from sinking into a deep, luxurious, almost slumberous passion. She felt lazy, boneless. Raising her arms up the sculpted perfection on his back, she looped them around his neck so she'd remain standing.

As her entire body tingled and she clung to him, she heard his low growl, and then he kissed her again, this time pressing her against Esther's door. She could feel the hard press of his body, so hot and hard, compared to the icy cool metal behind her. She arched, pressing her breasts against him, trying to assuage the ache.

And then, as fast as it started, it stopped. Giving her one last nipping kiss, he stepped away from her. Reaching out, he held her chin in his hand and made her meet his eyes.

"Does that meet your prerequisite?"

Her eyes opened, and she stared at him, unable to form a single word.

"Because I sure as hell hope so!" He winked at her. "It did for me..."

"Bub...buh..." she stammered.

Chuckling, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, like he had a million times before. "See you tomorrow, Baby Girl."

And then he left, leaving her slumped, but smiling, against her car.