"Santa Barbara Police Department, how may I help you? ...Detective O'Hara is not in today, can I take a message? ... Could you repeat that number again? Thank you. ...And tell her Mittens says 'hi.' Got it! ...You're very welcome. Have a wonderful day!"

Melody glanced at her watch. It was almost six. Chief Vick had said that she could leave around six thirty, since they usually turned on the machine at that time anyway. She stretched, leaning back in her chair and eliciting the squeal again. It had been a good first day, all things considered. She'd gotten her hands on a list of extensions after making the coffee that morning and the rest of the day had gone pretty smooth. The happy officer, McNab, had stopped by her desk to introduce himself and make small talk throughout the day, and most of the other officers had come over at least once to meet the new secretary.

The only person in the station who seemed to be avoiding contact with Melody was the intense detective from the coffee maker.

Occasionally he would walk by, mostly to go shout at McNab about something (usually something that had already been taken care of, curiously enough), and then he would return immediately to his desk. A few times Melody had thought that he hesitated as he walked within view of the reception, but he never stopped or even looked at her. This had allowed her the opportunity to study him a little more in-depth. Now that she wasn't caught up in his eyes, she noticed that he walked incredibly straight, with purpose, and maybe just a hint of tension. He moved as if he was prepared to draw his gun at a moment's notice, which he probably was. Melody decided that he definitely was that intense all the time.

She also noticed that he wasn't wearing a wedding ring.

Melody chided herself for even wondering. It was her first day at a new job and she was already ranking her co-workers' date-worthiness! Talk about unprofessional. Besides that, she knew absolutely nothing about the man except for the fact that he was a detective. He could be a terrible person. Or boring. Or gay. So there was no sense in getting caught up in his eyes. Or his imposing presence. Or the strength of his jaw...

This was a recurring issue in Melody's life. She was the queen of unrequited fantasy romances. The first time this had happened was when Melody was thirteen. She just knew that Tanner Shelly was going to ask her to the eighth-grade dance and then they were going to start dating, and he was going to write her a love song and play it for her in front of the whole school because he was a sensitive boy who was going to fall in love with her. Then she caught him torturing a baby bird and punched him in the face, ending up suspended from school for a week and broken-hearted. And it had only continued through high school and college. Usually they were boys that she knew within a very limited setting. She created elaborate personas for them, and when they didn't live up to her expectations she would cry for a week and stop talking to them entirely.

By the time she had worked her way through her PhD, Melody had decided that enough was enough. It wasn't fair to her or the men she was interested in. She gave up on dating and tried to maintain a lifestyle that kept her out of situations where her overactive imagination could get the best of her. This had worked pretty well, up until now.

Now, all Melody had to do was glance in the detective's direction and she could feel herself start to slip back into that unhealthy, hyper-attracted phase. She shook her head and sat straight up, busying herself with the messages she had taken throughout the day. This time would be different, she assured herself. This time she would not let her heart get itself into trouble again. She would be completely professional toward everyone at the station, including that detective.

"It's Lassiter."

Melody jumped and gasped, startled. She looked up to see those eyes yet again. "Excuse me?" she managed to stammer.

The detective fiddled with his tie before sticking out his hand. "I'm Detective Carlton Lassiter. Head Detective of the SBPD." The two stared at the outstretched hand, neither sure what to do. Carlton cleared his throat nervously. "I, uh, didn't introduce myself earlier. Sorry."

Finally getting a hold of herself, Melody took Lassiter's hand and shook it, markedly ignoring how strong his grip was. "Nice to meet you, Detective Lassiter. I'm Melody-"

"Melody Scott, I know." Carlton felt his face flush. "I remember. I just thought I would come over and welcome you to the department." He hesitated, realizing that her hand was still gripped in his. "If you ever need anything, just let me know." Wait, what? Carlton Lassiter was extending an open invitation to some girl he'd never met before, just in case she got confused by a stapler? He quickly let go of her hand. "Well. Right."

Melody scrambled to gather her thoughts. "Thank you, Detective. I really appreciate that." He nodded, stood in front of her desk awkwardly for a few moments, then turned to walk back to his desk out of sight from the reception. Melody watched him go with a mix of relief and disappointment, tinged with the thrill of getting to study his backside for a few unobserved seconds.

"Miss Scott! A word, please?"

Melody swiveled around in her chair to find Chief Vick leaning out her office door, an expectant look on her face. The receptionist rose quickly and crossed to the chief's office, maintaining a look of calm even while her insides were buzzing with alarm. Have I already screwed this up?

Vick sat behind her desk and indicated the chairs in front. "Have a seat, please." Melody sank into a chair, steeling herself for rejection. "How was your first day? Any problems?"

Melody allowed herself to relax slightly. She shook her head. "No, no problems. Once I found a list of the phone extensions." She smiled tentatively at the chief. "Were there any complaints?"

"Not at all, Miss Scott." Vick paused, studying the girl. "I noticed that you met Detective Lassiter this morning."

Was it that obvious? "Yes, I startled him at the coffee maker." Melody noticed that the chief's eyes were locked on her, anticipating something. "He seems... friendly?"

Whatever Chief Vick had been expecting, this was not it. Shock was evident on her face. "Friendly? That's not usually the first word that comes to mind when someone describes my head detective." She leaned towards Melody, conspiratorially. "I know Detective Lassiter can come off as... intimidating, at the very least, but he's really not that bad once you get to know him. I hope he didn't say anything to you to discourage you from working here."

It was Melody's turn to be shocked. "Oh, no, of course not! Chief Vick, I assure you he was very welcoming. I mean, once he realized that I wasn't trying to poison his coffee."

Vick smirked and rose from her chair. "Well, I suppose there's a first time for everything. Thank you for your work today, Miss Scott. I'll see you tomorrow at eight thirty sharp." Melody stood and moved to exit the office, but the chief stopped her. "And Miss Scott? It is very important to me that everyone in this department maintains a certain level of professionalism. I assume you understand me."

Melody smiled and nodded quickly. "Of course, Chief." Loosely translated: you are here to be the secretary. Nothing more.

...

That night, Carlton found himself unable to focus on his Tivo'd episode of COPS. Granted, it was one that he'd seen five times already that week, but usually that meant that he could fast-forward to the best arrests and watch them over and over again. This was not to be on that particular evening. Carlton felt uneasy, kept glancing around the room at the suspect photos pinned up on the walls, at his secret gun stashes, at the one picture he still had up on the mantle of his wedding day. He stood up from the couch and walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and closed it again, unsatisfied with the usual spread of a few containers of leftover Chinese and the single half-drunk beer. Rubbing his temples, Carlton wandered back into his living room. This agitation was entirely due to his cold, still barely hanging on. That had to be it, he decided as he flicked the picture of a jewel thief he had yet to apprehend. That, and the fact that his partner had been gone all day, and he had been stuck at the station because apparently today had been No Crime Tuesday.

It had nothing at all to do with the new receptionist that wouldn't leave his thoughts alone.

Letting out a frustrated grunt, Lassiter crossed the living room to stand in front of the mantle. His eyes came to rest on the photo of he and Victoria on their wedding day. It never ceased to amaze him how happy she looked, how happy they both had been on that day. Neither had had any idea that within a few years, they would be separated. That within a few years, their divorce would be final. Sometimes he wondered if it hadn't been a mistake to get married. Maybe he would be happier now, still a bachelor and not a recent divorcee. Maybe Victoria would be happier, married to someone who wasn't married to his job.

Slowly, Carlton turned away from the photo and walked to his bedroom. It didn't matter now. The past was the past, and someday he would get beyond it all. Actually, it was a little strange; usually, when he let himself think about his wife, Carlton would feel like crawling into bed and staying there for a week. This time, he just felt like he needed a hot shower. As he pulled off his tie, the detective found himself wondering if the new receptionist liked guns.