"Agent Keen, what a pleasure," Red greeted, answering the door. "If you're here on official business I am sorry to inform you that I am unable to report for duty as I am convalescing."

"First of all, I am not here on official business. Second, I'm fairly certain that the moonshine you're drinking isn't recommended by whatever doctor is overseeing your so called convalescence," she said, gesturing to the sweating glass of mystery booze on the table. "Third, don't use the term 'convalescing', it makes you sound old."

He settled back on his couch, crossing his legs effortlessly and chuckling a little. He grimaced only slightly as he sat, reminded of the wound in his shoulder. Anyone else may not have noticed that he was in any pain at all.

"I'm not here to check on you," she said.

"Then why are you here? You disparaged my beverage offerings by calling it moonshine, so the bar is closed if that's your prerogative," he said.

"Cut the act, Red. I think you know that we need to discuss what happened."

She could feel him freeze uncharacteristically for just a moment before picking up his drink again, carefully making sure she couldn't see him caught off guard. He pursed his lips the way he had when she had only weeks ago told him in the same apartment to go to hell. Wanting to put him at ease, she sat next to him instead of leaning against the opposite side of the couch. After all she wasn't there to turn him down.

"Lizzie it was not my intention to make you uncomfortable," he said.

"You didn't. I was not uncomfortable. I am not uncomfortable now."

"Your tone led me to believe that I was in trouble. So if you're not here to reprimand me then I'm genuinely confused," he said with a sigh.

"I'm not going to spell it out for you," she said, turning toward him and leaning in close. He turned to look at her, searching her eyes for any sign of hesitation. Her eyes were trained on his, unflinching. He realized after a moment that it was he who was hesitating.

"I want to make sure you know what you are signing up for here," he said, leaning in as well.

"I'm a big girl, don't patronize me," she said, though not truly offended.

"I don't think you understand," he growled. "I can't afford to do this with you and then have you running back to Tom. Nor will I tolerate any discussion, when you realize what you've done, regarding how I coerced you into this. Because once we open this door we do it together and we do not take it back. Otherwise I walk."

"Red?"

"Yes?"

"Are you threatening me?"

"Yes."

"Are you stalling because you're scared?" she asked, unbuttoning the only button on her blazer.

He laughed a long, sincere laugh, throwing his head back in amusement. He stopped himself only to get close enough to her to graze his lip against her ear, warming the side of her face with his eager breath. Using one hand to caress the back of her neck, she felt for a moment like a kitten being picked up by its scruff; suddenly and disconcertingly relaxed under his touch. He dropped his voice into a register just above a growl, making sure the breath from his words reached the lobes of her ears.

"While 10 years ago, this kind of thing might suit me, I'm afraid I'm not this kind of man anymore," he said, feeling her involuntarily wilt under his touch, watching her assume she was about to be let down. Only toying with her for a moment, he continued. "If I'm going to make love to a woman, it just can't be done properly outside of 800 thread count. And seeing that this is an apartment and I have neighbors, you're going to need something to muffle your reaction to what I'm about to do to you. Your choices are a pillow or a mouthful of a very expensive tie. Those are your choices."

"I can be quiet."

"You have been quiet in the past, with other men. This is going to be much different."

Liz smiled, longing for the feeling she had been thinking about since she had last seen him. She decided to take matters into her own hands. In one swift move, she swung her leg over him and straddled his lap. For the first time since she had met the man, he looked genuinely stunned, eyes wide and mouth hanging open only slightly. His chest rose sharply, taking in a ragged breath. Know that he was momentarily not in control, Liz capitalized. Taking his face in her hands she leaned in closely, hovering her lips above his, tantalizingly close. She dragged her bottom lip against his, and she watched his eyes flutter shut. He was right where she wanted him.

Too late, she recognized the feeling of his arms flexng against her and his rough hands at the collar of her blouse. The fabric ripped with a sharp tug and the buttons popped, exposing her chest suddenly to the cool air in the room. His eyes opened again, holding hers.

"Do you mind not destroying my clothes?" she said.

"What is it, Ann Taylor Loft? I'm not worried. Consider this a prelude to an upgrade," he said.

"What's wrong with this shirt?" she demanded.

"That you're still wearing it."