Game of Love

"Pardon me, is this seat taken?" he said with hopes of the contrary, drawing her attention from the half-empty glass of wine on the bar in front of her.

"Oh, um, no, it's free, go right ahead," she replied with a polite grin after a check of her watch. "It seems I've been stood up, so." She swallowed another sip of wine as he settled in next to her, flagging the bartender for a scotch, neat.

"I'm sorry," he said, leaning into what little space she could've called her own, "but, did you just say you were stood up?" He nodded and thanked the bartender for the drink that arrived just in time. Without the interruption, he might've gone ahead and rescued the soft wave of hair that'd fallen loose from behind her ear.

"I did, unfortunately. Why do you ask?" She studied his face as he paused to choose his words.

"Well, I suppose that just seems…impossible," he said finally. Her mouth curled softly and his pulse quickened. "I mean, you're-"

"Kate. I'm Kate," she jumped in, noting the blush in his cheeks. "And, you look very familiar to me. Have we met somewhere before?"

"Trust me, Kate," he said, extending his hand to meet hers, "if we'd met before, I'd most definitely remember it. No, this happens a lot, though. I guess I just have that kind of face."

Kate raised her glass to her lips. "Well, it's a nice face, Mr…"

"Oh, I'm sorry, jeez. I'm Rick, Rick Castle." He rolled his eyes at his own faux pas as he let her complimentary words wash over him. "So, do you come here often?"

It took only the briefest of moments for him to realize what a clichéd and idiotic question it was, and her expression only served to exacerbate his embarrassment. "Why don't we skip ahead, Rick, Rick Castle," she teased. "What do you do for a living?"

"That would be great. Thank you for that," Rick sighed gratefully. "I'm a writer, actually. I know, I know, that must be hard to believe given that I can't seem to string two meaningful words together tonight." He could only shake his head as he downed a good portion of his scotch.

"A writer, huh? Anything I might've read?" Kate inquired with keen interest, passing over his brush with self-deprecation.

"Well, that depends. Do you enjoy riveting thrill rides of literature brimming with mystery and intrigue?"

Kate couldn't help but chuckle. "Unfortunately, Rick, my life is already filled with mystery, so at the end of the day, I'm usually looking to escape that world. But, maybe one day I'll pick up one of your books at an airport or something. You never know."

"Okay, I think I can live with that, but, more importantly, you've intrigued me. Tell me, Kate, woman of mystery, how is it you spend your days?" He shifted his body on his stool to face her.

"I'm a homicide detective with the NYPD," Kate said, registering his change in position.

Rick's mouth fell open instantly in glaring awe. "You? With that face?"

"And exactly what is wrong with my face, Writer Man?" she replied with furrowed brow, realizing her words instantly and chastising herself silently for them.

Rick looked her directly in the eye, shaking off any of his previous awkwardness. "Please hear me when I tell you that there is absolutely, positively nothing at all wrong with your face, Kate. In fact, if you'll forgive my boldness, I'd have to say it's the most exquisite face I've ever seen, and anyone who's ever thought otherwise is a damn fool."

She could feel it as the warmth crept up her body. "Well," she exhaled, before having to clear the emotion already caught up in her throat, "it looks like you've found your words. That was-"

"The truth," Rick interjected.

Her eyes broke from his, finally, when she glanced down to find his hand resting on her knee.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, realizing his indiscretion and pulling away.

Kate lifted her head slowly, wishing he hadn't separated, already missing his touch after no time at all. "Castle," she whispered, sliding off her stool, and stepping into him. "Take me home."

His hands found her hips and he smiled. "God, I love this game."