A/N: We've moved to an unspecified time after "Breach", and into Nate's POV. He's decided that he occasionally needs some time to himself and has take to people-watching at any of the various beaches in the area.

I don't normally write in the first person, and actually started this one in the third person, but it worked so much better in Nate's own voice. I know, too, that he's a strong guy, both physically and mentally, but I figured in the presence of a girl he liked he'd turn into a mushy science-nerd...which some girls find that apealing :-)

I might have to wait, I'll never give up
I guess it's half timing, and the other half's luck

—Michael Bublé, Haven't Met You Yet

It was a real-live case of love at first sight.

At least on my part. I always denied it afterwards—even to myself—more out of a sense of self-preservation than anything else. My past had been lonely enough that I couldn't quite let myself believe I really had found my metaphorical other half.

But when I stumbled across her that first time she was stretched out on a blanket at the edge of the beach, leaning against the trunk of a palm tree. A thick hardcover book lay open in her lap, the ups and downs of the story playing out on her expressive face. I almost hated to disturb her, but I was intrigued by her concentration in the midst of the frolicking families around us, drawn in by her animated features.

Plus she had a bottle of sunscreen peeking out of her bag that my blistering skin desperately needed.

Taking a resolute breath I made my way across the sand, halting a pace off the hem of her blanket. "Excuse me…"

She held up a finger, rapidly scanning the book before meeting my gaze. "Sorry, this is a really good part. I had to finish the paragraph."

Her eyes were a stunning green, contrasting sharply to her glossy dark hair and rendering me momentarily speechless. "Um…uh…yeah, of course," I stammered when I found my voice. "Good parts should not be interrupted."

She flashed me a brilliant smile. "Exactly. Now what can I do for you?"

My heart fluttered, but I thought I managed to keep my cool outwardly. "I need some help with this," I told her, holding out my sunburned arms. "I finally got out of the office, and forgot the sunscreen."

"Ouch." Dropping her bookmark into place, she laid her novel aside and reached for my arms with a familiarity that surprised me. "I think you're too late for sunscreen," she admonished. "What about the rest of you?" She signaled and I dropped to one knee on her blanket, sank further down onto my heels when she rose and hooked a finger in the neck of neck my t-shirt. "You look positively chicken-fried."

"That bad?"

Peering down the back of my shirt, she nodded grimly. "Yeah." Her fingers brushed the nape of my neck and I sucked in an involuntarily breath, my heart pounding. She read it as a reaction to pain and drew back, retreated to her beach bag on the other side of the blanket. "Sorry. I should have been more careful."

"It's okay," I tried to assure her, watching her dig through the bag. "It didn't hurt."

She quirked an eyebrow at me, then seized on the bottle she wanted and handed it over. "Okay. But you should still put some of this on."

"Aloe." Taking the bottle, I tried to quash the hope that flashed through me when I noticed her hand was trembling. Could she be as affected by me as I was by her?

"It'll do for now. When you get home, you'll want to put vinegar on any place you're burned. That will really take the sting out."

I nodded, squirting some of the lotion into my hand and running it over my arms. "I've heard that before but I've never tried it."

She smiled cheekily. "With your complexion, I'd have thought you'd've done the vinegar thing many times."

The smile I gave her in return had a rueful quality in it. "Hard to get sunburned when you're inside a building all day." I studied her face and throat, the freckles that stood out on her shoulders, and shifted to slather aloe on my legs. Beautiful wasn't the right word to describe her, but fascinating certainly fit. "You're pretty familiar with the vinegar remedy, though, aren't you?"

"The family curse," she explained. "Stay out of the sun, and we're pale as vampires. Get in the sun and risk being—"

"—'chicken-fried'?" I finished for her. She laughed, and I understood the literary comparison of a woman's laughter to little bells. Hers was musical. And I was smitten.

"Yeah."

We fell quiet for a few moments while she watched me struggle with the aloe, and I tried desperately to think of something funny to say so I could hear her laugh again. My mind, of course, went blank and all I could do was focus on my sunburn. I managed to get the lotion spread over my arms and legs without much trouble, but my back and shoulders were proving to be more difficult. I wondered if she would offer her assistance, ask to put her hands on me, and I felt my face becoming warm as I imagined her touch. I hoped she would just chalk up any redness to the sun, but felt disappointed and frustrated and began to take it out on the aloe.

"Need some help?"

She sounded reluctant—I saw in her posture, her expression that she was rethinking her previous nonchalance toward me. Maybe she just wanted to get back to her book, or maybe she was tiring of a tedious stranger, or maybe she even thought I was weird. But when I nodded pitifully she acquiesced, taking the bottle and circling around behind me, sizing up her task.

"Is it too early in this relationship to ask you to take your clothes off?"

I smiled, recognizing her attempt to diffuse her discomfiture. "You probably should tell me your name, first."

"Zoë," she replied, kneeling at my back. "Zoë Vaughn-Kesler."

My breath stopped at the hyphenated name. "Married?"

"Divorced," she answered, gingerly examining my skin a second time. "You?"

"I'm single," I breathed, relieved. Her fingers connected with my neck, carefully spreading the aloe I'd already tried to apply, and I fought to keep from closing my eyes. "And I'm Nate Getz."

I heard a faint smile in her reply, felt her body relax a bit as she slid a hand gently down my back. "Nice to meet you."

"Which one is your married name?" I asked, thinking that if my mind was busy I could keep myself from sinking too far into her touch, "Vaughn or Kesler?"

"Why do you want to know that?"

I shrugged, winced with the pain of it. "Women who hyphenate their names when they get married usually put their maiden name first, but some women put their married name first. All of them have reasons for whichever order they choose, and I just wondered where you fell on the spectrum."

Zoë paused, leaving one palm against my back as she leaned over my shoulder to make eye contact. "What is it you do for a living?"

"I'm a psychologist," I admitted distractedly, catching the scent of her lilac shampoo.

"Ohhh." Her smile returned and she refocused on my sunburn. "Psychologist with a capital g-e-e-k."

"And what do you do?" I countered too quickly.

She parried matter-of-factly. "Dog trainer."

I glanced over my shoulder at her. "As in 'fetch' and 'roll over'?"

She shook her head, a loose lock of her dark hair tickling my cheek, sending my heart off at a gallop again. "More like 'seek' and 'release'. I work at a kennel that trains dogs for law enforcement and search & rescue purposes."

She slid my shirt up to get at the rest of my back and I barely suppressed a sigh. "And your married name?"

"Inquisitive, aren't you?"

I could hear the smirk in her voice but couldn't tell if she was amused or annoyed. "Occupational hazard," I apologized.

"Then I will indulge you. My married name was Moretti."

She hit a sensitive spot near my shoulder blade and I straightened up abruptly. "Moretti?" I croaked, trying to continue the conversation. "Where did Vaughn and Kesler come from?"

"My parents," she explained. "They weren't married when I was born, so they gave me both their names. I used to get asked if I was married all the time because of the hyphen, but I'd been Zoë Vaughn-Kesler for so much of my life that when I got divorced, I went back to it."

"Your parents are married now, though." I anticipated her next question and answered it before she asked, showing off my deductive skills. "You said they weren't married when you were born. That implies that they got married later, or you would have said they aren't married."

She nodded her agreement, the loose lock of hair brushing feather-light against my lower back. I squirmed on the blanket and I could hear the smirk in her voice again, and this time her amusement was clear. "They did, before my brothers were born. It was still a big scandal on my dad's side of the family that they lived together, had a child together before saying 'I do'."

My professional curiosity merged with my personal interest and I couldn't help but probe that statement further. "Did your family's disapproval of your parents extend to you when you were growing up?"

She removed her hands from my back, and I suppose she could have been checking to see if she'd missed any spots with the aloe, but the action fit too closely with my question. I immediately backpedaled. "Sorry—that was too personal. I didn't mean to pry…"

"Yes you did," she replied evenly, tracing a fingertip across my skin before pulling my shirt back down. Scooting around to face me, she seemed to study my expression before continuing. "You didn't mean to offend me. But you absolutely meant to pry. Occupational hazard, right?"

I watched her while she spoke, tried to read her face and body language, looking for any sign that I had upset her. When my eyes met hers, though, every thought left my head and I could only nod dumbly.

That apparently was entertaining for her, because her green eyes flashed as she tried to stifle a grin. "No, my family never treated me differently because of my parents. They might be on the conservative side sometimes, but they do not believe in visiting the sins of the father upon the son…or daughter." She squirted some more of the aloe into her palm and handed me the bottle to hold. "Besides, when my pregnant cousin left her fiancé the family forgot all about my ignoble birth."

My eyes must have widened because she chuckled, leaning forward to apply the aloe to my cheeks and forehead. "What about you? Any personal anecdotes you'd like to share with me?"

"I…uh…" Damn. The lilac shampoo scent surrounded me and, coupled with the feel of her fingers on my skin, scrambled my thoughts completely. "I play the banjo," I blurted out, color creeping up my neck at the admission.

Her smile took on a teasing quality. "Well, that's a start. What about this job of yours? It's obviously important to you, takes up most of your time."

I managed something about NCIS, giving her a basic outline of my duties at OSP without divulging any classified information. She was attentive and asked intelligent questions, listened carefully to my responses…which, of course, made me want her even more.

Once the aloe had been applied to the last of my sunburn, we briefly discussed my situation and decided that I should stay there in the shade with her until the lotion had a chance to soak in. Then we could cover me in sunscreen and I'd be all set. I was delighted to be staying and, seeking comfort in the familiar, prattled on and on about interrogations and profiling. She remained engaged, sitting further away from me on the blanket than I would have liked, but closer than if she had felt threatened by or disconnected from me.

Soon enough, though, she was fishing a second bottle from her beach bag. This time she didn't bother handing it to me, but went right for my skin herself. Kneeling at my back, she lifted my shirt and made quick work of coating me in sunblock from head to toe.

"All set," she told me cheerfully, rising to her feet and wiping the excess lotion on her own arms.

"Great." My lack of enthusiasm must have showed on my face as well as in my voice because she cast an amused glance my way. "I mean great," I tried again, with a little more feeling.

She tried to smother a grin but didn't quite succeed, and my heart fluttered. "Zoë…"

Her watch beeped, cutting me off and diverting her attention the device. I saw regret replace focus on her face a moment later, though, and hope rose again in my soul. Was she upset about leaving me?

"I gotta go," she said slowly.

"Hot date?" I responded before I could think better of it.

Fortunately, she didn't notice my idiocy. "Got dogs that need walking."

"At the kennel you work at," I added knowingly.

"Yeah," she nodded, "and my own. They've been inside most of the day." I started to ask her about her pets, trying to prolong the conversation, but she stopped me. "Sorry Nate, I really do need to get home." Shoving her novel into her bag and throwing her blanket over her shoulder, she dazzled me with a bright smile. "Good luck with your sunburn…and don't forget the vinegar."

"Wait!" I called after her as she stalked away. "Can I at least call you sometime?"

She flashed me another brilliant smile and rattled off her phone number, which I immediately committed to permanent memory, then to my cell phone's memory.

I prayed it was her real number.