Part II: Hotter
(Stephanie POV)

Completely at a loss for what to do next, I stood stock still in the middle of my parking lot and watched Joe Morelli's police cruiser speed away. A feeling of deja vu settled around me. My mind flashed to an image of Joe from eight years earlier standing up from the cold tile floor of the Tasty Pastry, pulling up his Levis, walking out the front door and out of my life as I sat on the floor with pretty much the same dumbfounded look on my face. This was starting to be a bad habit. Worse than smoking. Worse than drinking. Instead, I had some stupid addiction to Joe Morelli and my punishment was to continually watch the best ass in Trenton as it walked away from me.

Well, enough with that. Joe Morelli is now officially off limits. There's a reason people say to always trust your first impression. And my first impression of Joe Morelli was that he was scum. I've known it for eight years now. For that matter, I've known that he was up to no good for the last 18 years, going all the way back to the time he taught me to play choo-choo in his father's garage. My gut told me back then not to trust him when he wouldn't let me be the train. Am I really so shallow to fall for that lean, hard muscled body and chocolate eyes?

Okay, don't answer that. Of course, I'm that shallow. I'd been willing to overlook all kinds of signals and signs when it came to Dickie. Hell, the signs had been so damn obvious they might as well have said, "Dickie Orr is a Horse's Ass," in flashing neon lights. And he couldn't hold a candle to Joe's good looks and charm. Well, from now on, I'm focusing on all the doughy, homely, introverted men in the city. The good looking ones are just too dangerous to my heart.

I gathered what was left of my pride from the macadam and trudged to the back door of my apartment building. I felt childish as I shuffled my feet and kicked stray rocks as I walked. Too hot and exhausted to tackle the stairs, I pressed the up button on the elevator. The doors slid open and I wasn't surprised to find Mrs. Bestler and her walker inside.

"Going up?" she asked.

Mrs. Bestler is one of the many senior citizens that live in my building. Sometimes I wonder if the overflow from Sunset Hills Retirement Village isn't sent here. I'm the youngest person in the building by at least 35 years. In Mrs. Bestler's spare time, she pretends she's the elevator operator and rides up and down all day long.

"Second floor, Mrs. Bestler."

"Good choice, honey. Second floor: lingerie, handbags, makeup," she announced.

I squelched the urge to roll my eyes. Sometimes, Mrs. Bestler's antics are amusing. Today, it was just annoying.

Mrs. Bestler leaned a bit closer to me and whispered, "You might stop by the makeup counter, sweetie. You're looking a little withered."

The elevator dinged and the doors opened and I made my escape. "Thank you, Mrs. Bestler," I sighed and headed for my apartment.

I slid my key into the lock, anxious to be hit in the face by the wall of cold air in my apartment. The lock tumbled; I pulled open the door, and was hit with hot air. More hot air! You've got to be fucking kidding me! I stormed across my apartment to the thermostat and checked the settings. Everything looked fine. Thermostat was set at 72, just like always, and the little switch was set to cool. But it was telling me that it was 85 degrees in the apartment.

I screamed in frustration and stalked to my phone. I flipped through my address book searching for the number of the building super, Dillon. He picked up on the second ring.

"Hey, Dillon. It's Stephanie in 2B. My air conditioning isn't working."

"Man, that's too bad."

I blew out some hot air in frustration. "Well, can you do something about it?"

"Sure," he replied pleasantly. "I'll call the repairman and see if he can come out sometime next week."

"Next week," I screeched.

"Steph, they're really busy what with it being so hot. And I know the landlord won't pay for Sunday service," he explained, completely level headed.

"What I am supposed to do until then? It's 100 degrees outside!"

"Get a hotel room?" Dillon suggested before he disconnected.

I slammed the phone down and a strangled scream worked its way up and out of my throat. Next week. I've got to live in this stifling heat until next week. Far from giving up, but unsure of what my next move was, I stormed through the apartment throwing open all the windows in hopes of letting in a hint of a breeze.

Once there was some air moving through the apartment, I felt marginally better. With no air conditioning, my only hope for really cooling down was to take a cold shower. I stripped off my sweat soaked clothes and dropped them in a heap on the bathroom floor.

Catching a glimpse of myself standing naked in front of the mirror did nothing to improve my mood. My hair was totally frizzed out from the combination of dragging my hands through it in frustration and excessive humidity. My makeup had melted off for the most part, just as I'd expected. Nothing remained but smudges of mascara under my eyes. Great. Just what I needed. Something to enhance the dark circles under my eyes. My skin was still flushed a warm pink color from enduring the unbearable afternoon heat. I can't remember a time that I looked worse.

And Joe had said I looked great.

What was it with that man? He couldn't have been serious. Although, he seemed serious enough when he pressed his body flush against mine. I could feel his seriousness, hard and thick, tight against my stomach.

Snap out of it, Stephanie! I shook my head, trying to chase away the warm, tingly feeling settling low in my belly. Just thinking about the way he felt against me was giving me another hot flash.

I stepped into the cold shower hoping it would do something to cool down my libido as well as my skin. I stood face first in the spray letting the cold water run over my hair and face, and flow down my body. The shower cooled my heated flesh, but did nothing to cool the desire coursing through me.

Well hell, I thought, why waste all this good, sexual heat? It's not like I've had a social orgasm in years. At least the heat was generated by a man even if I had to finish by myself. I grabbed the shower massager, tossed my head back, and let it do its job.

Twenty minutes later, I was much cooler and very relaxed and felt almost human again. I pulled my hair into a ponytail to keep it off my neck and dressed in the skimpiest tank top and pair of shorts I owned. I skipped the panties and bra, figuring the less clothes I wore, the cooler I'd be, and headed into the kitchen for something to eat.

Not a whole heck of a lot of choices in my kitchen. It was either Chinese leftovers from four nights ago or a peanut butter and olive sandwich. Since I'd eaten peanut butter and olive sandwiches the last three nights, I opted for the Chinese. I ripped the little metal handles off the take out boxes, gave them half a sniff for ptomaine, and popped the boxes in the microwave for two minutes. Luckily, I had beer. I cracked open a Bud Light, leaned against the counter, and counted down with the microwave until it dinged and I could devour the sesame chicken and pork fried rice.

I balanced the take out boxes, my beer, and the phone in my hands and headed for the living room. I'd had a shitty day and I needed some comforting. Without my mother's pot roast and pineapple upside cake, I settled for Ghostbusters, my all time favorite movie. I popped the VHS tape into the VCR, said a little prayer that the worn out tape would still track, and settled into the couch for the movie.

Sometime after I'd polished off the Chinese and halfway through the movie, there was a knock on the door. Damn it. I wasn't up for company. But on the off chance that it was Dillon with someone to fix my air conditioner, I paused the movie and went to answer the door.

I held my hand on the door knob and yelled through the door, "Who is it?"

"It's me," the voice on the other side of the door replied.

The voice was vaguely familiar, but I was having a hard time placing it. Maybe it was Dillon. I peered through the peephole and saw Joe Morelli smiling back at me. God, that smile! It nearly did me in. Just seeing him made me start sweating in inconvenient places again. Suck it up, Stephanie.

"Go away!"

"Come on, Steph. Open up."

"Thanks for the ride home, Joe, but no...no opening. Just go."

"I brought dessert."

I peeked through the peephole again. Sure enough. Morelli was holding out a white pastry bag and I'd bet $100 that he had chocolate chip canollis in there. If he'd been handsome this afternoon, then he was down right gorgeous now. He was everything he was this afternoon, but more relaxed, or real. He was still in his uniform, but his hat was off and his hair fell in soft waves over his forehead and ears. It just barely curled over the edge of his collar as if he was just overdue for a cut. The first couple buttons of his shirt were undone and his shirt was untucked and hung loosely around his waist.

I cursed under my breath because I knew I was done for. I was going to knowingly let the Big Bad Wolf into my home without hardly any huffing and puffing.

"Come on. You know you want to." He waved the bag in front of the peephole again, and on a long exhale, I slid back the chain, unlocked the deadbolt, and opened the door.

Joe smiled at me. The kind of smile that went all the way to his eyes and made my pulse kick up.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi."

We stood there on opposite sides of the threshold just staring into each others eyes until that squishy feeling in the pit of my stomach forced me to look away. "You can come in and share your dessert, but then you have to go."

I stepped aside and Joe walked past me into my kitchen. I closed the door behind him and rested my forehead against the door for a moment, mentally banging my head against it. This is stupid. This is stupid. This is stupid. I took a deep breath, and then went to look for Joe and that pastry bag.

Joe had laid out two paper towels on my small kitchen table and was rooting through the bag when I came into the kitchen. Sure enough he pulled out two chocolate chip canollis and set them on the paper towels. I rolled my eyes and laughed cynically.

"What?"

"Nothing," I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Hey, I was just trying to be nice. I thought you liked canollis. At least you did eight years ago."

"How gentlemanly of you to remind me of that."

"I've got fond memories of that night. You should, too, from what I remember."

My face flushed in spite of my best effort to stop it. My eyes shifted from his face. "I don't really remember."

"Bullshit."

My eyes snapped back to his face. "Don't flatter yourself, Morelli."

"Cupcake, I hope you wear shades when you're playing poker 'cause your eyes are a dead give away. You remember that night. You remember what I did to you. And you remember how I made you feel."

Heat welled up inside my body. "I remember you leaving."

My comment seemed to take some of the wind out of his sails. "I know. I was a rotten kid. I've apologized once, but I'll say it again. I'm sorry, Stephanie. I never wanted to hurt you."

The sincerity of his apology momentarily left me at a loss for words. Who was this man? And what had he done to Morelli?

Joe picked up his canolli. "Now come on and eat," he said on a grin. "Don't make me eat both of them." He took a big bite and softly moaned from satisfaction.

That feeling of deja vu settled around me for the second time today. Here I was, with Joe Morelli, being seduced by a chocolate chip canolli, for the second time in my 24 year long life. What was I supposed to do? Just a couple hours ago, I'd officially put Joe in the off-limits category. And then he showed up with a canolli. As if that wasn't a slap in the face. Well, I really had no choice. I did what any woman in my situation would've done.

I sat down next to Morelli and bit into my canolli.

Flaky pastry and smooth ricotta cream mixed on my tongue and I felt like I was in heaven. The bittersweet tang of the chocolate chips made my mouth water and I shut my eyes from sheer delight.

I opened my eyes to find Joe watching me. His hooded eyes had melted into pools of milk chocolate framed in dark black fringes of impossibly long lashes. The weight of his stare made me shift uncomfortably in my seat. Time to get rid of him before I end up naked and on my back.

Standing up, I said with what I hoped was a dismissive smile, "Well, thanks for the canolli. It was delicious." I took a couple steps toward the door and continued, "I've got a busy day tomorrow and really should get to sleep."

Joe looked at his watch and said, "It's 8:30! Mooch told me you were unattached, but I didn't think he meant dead."

My hands flew to my hips and I took two big steps back toward him. "Listen, Morelli. I was just trying to be polite. What I should have said was, 'Get out!'"

Joe stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed his fingers behind his head. He wasn't going anywhere. "You don't mean that."

"The hell I don't!"

"Liar. Your eyes gave you away again. Where's all this hostility coming from?"

"Maybe I'm just not attracted to you."

Joe raised one eyebrow. "Is that true?"

No! "Yes." I concentrated on keeping my eyes steady so he couldn't see the truth. My body was screaming in protest. You idiot, it said. Youre sending our only shot at a social orgasm away! Joe searched my face for a full minute. I nearly broke out in a sweat trying to maintain eye contact.

Finally, Joe stood up and shrugged his shoulders. "Okay. Guess I was wrong." He approached me in the foyer and stopped. He reached up and stroked my face with his thumb. My eyes closed involuntarily because it felt so good. When he removed his hand, I reopened my eyes. "Bye, Stephanie."

He walked past me and opened the door.

"Wait!" God, why was I stopping him?

Joe turned around still holding the doorknob in his hand.

"I'm scared, okay?" I whispered.

"Scared?" Joe shut the door and came back to me. "Scared of what? You know me, Steph."

"That's the problem. I do know you. And you know me. You know me and then you leave. Each time I've gotten close to you, you've left."

"We've only been together once."

"I know. But what about today? You were all handsome and charming and talked me into taking you upstairs and to bed. And as soon as I got the words out of my mouth, you took off. I'm just trying to protect myself from more heartache."

"Look, I'm sorry about this afternoon. Really, I couldn't help it. There was an armed robbery at the 7-11 on Hamilton and I had to go. My shift hadn't ended yet. God, I wanted to stay. I was dying to stay."

"Really?" God, I sounded so pathetic.

"Really." Joe closed the distance between us, but I took a step back. I wasn't quite ready to trust him completely. This sounded good, but it always sounded good and we've been here before.

"I was watching Ghostbusters before you got here. Do you want to stay and watch the end?" I felt like I was 13 again, asking Johnnie Petrucci to the Spring Fling Dance, heart in my throat, every nerve exposed.

"Don't you have something with DeNiro in it?"

"It's Ghostbusters or nothing. Stay or go. You choose."

Joe rubbed his hand on his chin and screwed up his face to think, acting like he was making a really tough decision. I rolled my eyes. "What about popcorn?" he bargained.

"Sure."

"Candy?"

"Don't push your luck," I warned and headed for the kitchen to make a bag of popcorn. Joe went for the living room and settled in on the couch.

"Did you have company earlier?" he called into me.

"No." I called from the kitchen. "Why?"

"You ate all this food?" The Chinese take out boxes were scattered all over my coffee table along with a couple dead Bud Light bottles.

"Out!"

Joe tipped his head back on the couch cushions and laughed. "I'm just kidding. Hurry up. I'm hungry. I didn't have a chance for dinner tonight."

I leaned against my kitchen cabinets and waited for the microwave to ding. My God, what was I getting myself into? Joe Morelli was sitting on my couch, waiting to watch Ghostbusters with me. Men would do just about anything if there was any hope of getting laid, I thought. Is that what I wanted? Getting laid by Joe Morelli? God, yes, my body screamed. Shut up, I told it.

"What?" Joe yelled.

"Huh?"

"Did you say something?" he asked.

"No, no." God, I said that out loud. I'm losing my mind.

The microwave dinged and I took the bag out and shook it to distribute the salt and butter. As I looked up to get a large bowl out for the popcorn, I saw Joe stretched out on the couch. He was reclining. Head resting on the back couch cushions. Feet propped up on the coffee table. Legs crossed at the ankles. One arm laying on the arm rest. The other arm stretched out along the back of the couch. He was completely relaxed and utterly sexy. His body was oozing sexuality and I wanted to lap it up.

I paused with my arm in mid air, reaching up for the bowl, and let my mind wander. I pictured myself curled up next to Joe on the couch. One arm wrapped around his stomach. My legs draped haphazardly over his legs. My head resting in the crook of his shoulder. His arm pulling me closer to him, into his lean, hard body...

"Why's it so hot in here? Don't you have air conditioning?"

Joe's voice brought me back to my senses. "Uh, yeah. But, its broken." Okay. So I wanted to have sex with Joe Morelli. Me and about every other woman in Trenton, I thought. I can be an adult about this. Just some quick, fun, casual sex. One of the many things women won during the sexual revolution. But somehow, the new rules had never made it to the Burg. Girls in the Burg still want the happily ever after, or at least sex that comes with rings. And with Joe Morelli's reputation as a heart-breaker, I wasn't about to get either of those things.

"Everything okay in there?"

I snatched the bowl and called back, "Yeah. I'll be right there." I dumped the popcorn into the bowl and grabbed two more beers from the fridge.

Deciding it was probably best to keep my distance, I dropped the bowl of popcorn on the middle couch cushion, put the beers on the coffee table, and sat down at the far end of the couch. Without missing a beat, Joe picked up the bowl and balanced it on his lap. Then, he reached down to my end of the couch and tugged me to sit right next to him. So much for distance, I thought as I squiggled a bit closer.

I picked up the remote and hit play. Joe went back to relaxing. He kept one arm stretched out behind me on the couch and used his other hand to eat the popcorn. I felt slightly awkward reaching into his lap for popcorn, so I crossed my hands in my lap.

Joe shook the bowl at me and said, "Don't you want some?"

I want everything you're offering, I thought. Instead, I said, "Thanks," and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

After a few minutes, I got caught up in the movie and the tension and awkwardness seemed to float out into the night air along with Bill Murray. That is until Joe dropped his arm around my shoulder. Immediately, my entire body tensed up. Here it comes, I thought. Next thing I know, he'll have me pinned beneath him and I'll be begging for him to take me. I willed my body to relax, letting the tension run down my arms and legs, and out my fingertips and toes, and then I waited and hoped.

Joe didn't seem to notice that I'd just had a small panic attack and he began to draw lazy circles with his thumb on the bare skin of my shoulder. My skin rippled with goose bumps as a warm flush spread throughout my body. The movie was on, but the Stay Puff'd man might as well have been in Mrs. Bestlers apartment for all that I heard at this point. My mind was focused intently on the small movement of Joe's hand against my skin.

Joe pulled me closer against him and tried to settle me into his shoulder. My body was stiff as a board and uncooperative. We sat like that until the movie was over and the credits rolled up the screen. I was too tense to move, too nervous to speak.

Joe extricated his arm from my shoulder and said, "Alright, Cupcake. Spill it."

"What?" I squeaked.

"Whats wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Stephanie, you're wound so tight Im expecting you to spring off this couch any minute."

I scooted a little further away from Joe and started to feel a little better. I could actually breathe again. "Nothing, really. Just a stressful week at work. And the damned car."

Joe seemed to accept that answer for now. "I have just the thing for that. Come over here and I'll rub your shoulders."

Joe wiggled his hips further back on the couch like he was making room for me between his legs. My mind totally blanked. I just stared at him, open mouthed for a beat.

Joe patted the cushion in front of him and continued, "I've been told I've got great hands."

I bet, I thought. I had first-hand knowledge of just how great those hands were and it had nothing to do with shoulder massages. Is this what I wanted? If I sat between his legs, there'd be no turning back. I would be opening myself up to a spectacular Morelli-induced orgasm and the potential for a broken heart.

Ah hell, who needs a heart anyway? We only live once.

I stood up from the couch and edged my way between his legs. He tugged on my wrists and I fell into the space he left for me. He slid his hands up my arms to my neck and brushed my hair to one side. The gentle stroke sent shivers up my spine despite the heat of the room. With both hands settled on my shoulders, he began to knead the muscles there until my body relaxed. This should be making me more uptight, being confined between Joe's legs with his hands on my body. But I wasn't feeling confined at all. I was feeling damn good. He worked my shoulders and then moved down my back and concentrated on the muscles between my shoulder blades. My eyes drooped closed, my head fell forward, and I released a satisfied sigh on a long exhale.

"So tell me about your job. What kind of lingerie do you buy?"

"Oh, you know. Bras, panties, teddies. All kinds of things." Joe moved his hands lower still and worked the muscles of my lower back. My muscles had turned to goo and I felt like I was about to slide right off the couch.

"Is this outfit you have on now something you bought for EE Martin?" Joe's voice had changed from earlier in the night. It was lower and rougher and my body responded to it. A skitter of excitement raced through me.

I'd almost forgotten I only had on a tank top and shorts. I looked down at myself and understood how he could mistake my outfit for underwear, especially since I didn't have anything on underneath it.

I cleared my throat, "No, I got these somewhere else."

"Oh, I really like them." Joe smoothed his hands up my back and started in on my shoulders again. "They're so soft and smooth, almost see-through, they're so worn." His voice was almost a purr now. He slipped one finger under the string of my tank top and eased it off my shoulder.

Every cell in my body came screaming to life, aching for attention by Joe. Next thing I knew, Joe kissed me on the curve where my shoulder meets my neck. His lips were soft and gentle and full, and I braced myself with my hands on his knees. His muscles twitched under my hands and my heart skipped knowing just how excited he was.

"Look at me, Stephanie," he asked as he helped me turn in his embrace. "You're beautiful," he murmured and then lowered his mouth to mine.

The kiss was soft at first, but grew hot and demanding. He licked my lips, asking for entrance to my mouth, and I opened it for him, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. Without breaking the kiss, I skootched until I was straddling Joe's lap. He slid his hands down my back and pulled my hips flush against him. I ground my body against his just to feel him fully aroused and pressed against me.

And then, Joe went still.

I was nearly breathless when Joe broke the kiss. "What's wrong?" I gasped.

Joe closed his eyes briefly, then tilted his hips to one side, rolling me onto the middle couch cushion, and stoop up. "I'm sorry, Steph, but I have to go."

"You have to go! What the hell are you talking about?"

Joe looked down at me. His eyes traveled slowly from my flushed face down my body, inch by inch, pausing at my breasts before moving lower. I glanced down at myself and saw that my nipples had hardened and were nearly poking through my worn tank top. He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath, exhaling through clenched teeth. "Fuck," he mumbled as he inched away.

"Now, there's an idea. Come back here," I purred, reaching out with my fingers.

Joe opened his eyes and said, "I'm sorry, Stephanie. More than you could possibly imagine. But I can't." He turned on his heels and headed for the door.

My lust induced fog was lifting and my hormones were making the leap from sex-crazed nympho to rage-crazed maniac very quickly. I exploded off the couch and went after him. "You know what, Joe. This is exactly what I was talking about. I let you into my home and was about to let you into to me. And what do you do? You get up to fucking leave! Do you get some kind of kick off of getting me all worked up into a state and then walking out on me?"

Joe tore open the door and turned back to me. "No. That's not it."

"It doesn't really matter because, trust me, it's never gonna happen again. Get out of my house."

"Wait, Stephanie. Let me explain."

I cut him off with a wide sweep of my arm. "We're past that point. I don't want to hear your lies and excuses. I couldn't care less about you and your demented sex games."

"You don't mean that."

"The hell I don't." Joe stared hard at me, and I yelled, "Get out!"

Joe turned on his heel and left my apartment. I slammed the door, threw the deadbolt, and slid the chain home for good measure. Turning around, I screamed my anger and sexual frustration. Unfortunately, it didn't make me feel any better. I stormed into my room, slammed that door, too, flopped onto my bed and cried my eyes out until there were no tears left.