Chapter 2

AN: Thanks to Harley and Nicky for making me fix this. To quote them in a earlier messages: "Heck no, that isn't 'Cool'!"...More angst, for a while....

She showed up on his doorstep, nothing but pain written on her face. It didn't take a profiler to figure that out. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"I.. I.. Oh, Derek!" She started to cry, and he pulled her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She felt so familiar to him, his goddess. Even her scent was that same alluring smell, vanilla with a touch of something citrus. Delicious: the word always came to mind when it came to Penelope.

He was murmuring comforting nothings to her, kissing the top of her downy soft hair, rubbing her back. He kicked the door shut with his foot, and lead her over to his couch. He sat, tucking her in very close to his side, her head resting in what he considered her spot on his chest.

Funny, a married woman had a spot of her own on his chest. It was rather pathetic, but he couldn't assign it to anyone else. It was branded Penelope, all other women simply had to deal with it.

"I love you, baby girl. You can tell me anything, and I will fight like hell to fix it." He leaned down to kiss her lips, a gentle peck. It was a stupid thing to do, kiss her, but he couldn't help himself. He was a masochist.

It started that Christmas after the barbecue. They were under the mistletoe at Rossi's house. Even Lynch said he needed to kiss her, since it was tradition. She smiled up at him, bright teasing eyes and said, "Come on, hot stuff. You can give a friend a friendly little kiss. I will expect one from you once in a while now!"

He smiled then, telling himself it was going to be like kissing a sister, or an aunt, or something. She was his friend, his married friend he truly cared about. Nothing more. Never, ever, could be anything more. It was months since she was Mrs. Kevin Lynch; he had no rights to her. He was moving on; he had to move on.

He gently put his arms around her, splaying one hand on her lower back, the other between her shoulder blades, and immediately he knew that he was wrong. She felt right there, like no one ever felt before. He held her a million times, but never in the capacity of passion. He tried to make this nothing, to know it was a friendly peck. Her husband was watching and approving, for heaven's sakes. He leaned down and brought his lips to hers. The electricity hit the second her wonderful, soft mouth touched his. Literally, like a jolt of lightning, heat coursed through his whole body with just that small touch.

Yes, he underestimated: he wasn't in love with his sister, aunt, or anyone else. He was in love with her. She felt it too, that electricity; there was no denying it. She was trembling, her eyes flew open and her breath caught in her throat. Her cheeks flushed. She tried to talk to him. "Derek, I-"

Then her spouse had her out the door, and he was left standing there, his girlfriend waiting for him with suspicious, glaring eyes. Their relationship was on the rocks for the past two months anyway. Happened with every woman he dated; he could usually tell within a week when it was over. He had to give her credit over others he dated. At least she waited for the car ride home, in privacy, to yell at him.

"You know, hot stuff," she said, mocking the words Penelope said. "I think it was blatantly obvious to everyone watching in there. How long have you been in love with her?"

He didn't want to lie anymore. The more he thought about it, the more he knew: it wasn't cool. It was never going to be cool. Not for him.

So he said it, bluntly, and with as much pain as he was feeling. "For as long as I have known her."

So ended the relationship with Tamara Barnes.

He was back to fucking women he barely knew; it was better that way. He couldn't get entangled with anyone else, it simply wasn't fair to them or himself. He needed sexual release, but that was it. His heart was already taken.

So here he sat, nearly Valentine's day, holding the happily married love of his life. He was one stupid, miserable son of a bitch. To make matters worse, he was more upset she was crying over anything else. The hurt she had eclipsed any pain he was feeling, or ever would feel; that is how much she mattered to him. She really was his world; he couldn't change that any more than he could stop the sun from rising.

She finally stopped crying. "I left Kevin."