A/N: Thanks for all the reviews of the last chapter! I wish I could respond personally to the guest reviews, but I can't if you don't log in. I had fun with this next chapter, and it is my sincere hope that you do too…

Chapter 3

A small live band played an old Hall and Oates song as Jane and Lisbon entered O'Malley's. She found her three coworkers in a corner, eating their fish and chips, a half-full pitcher of beer in the center of the table. They looked up at Lisbon in surprise. They could count on one hand the number of times she'd joined them there for a meal, most of those for lunch, but she had known there was always a standing invitation for her company.

"Hey, Boss," said Rigbsy warmly.

"Hi," said Lisbon, trying to sound casual when her heart was racing with nerves about Jane's presence. Was it too late to send him back outside?

"Boss," said Cho with a nod. He showed no detectable emotion.

"Agent Lisbon," said Hannigan, eyeing Jane with open curiosity—or maybe suspicion was a better description.

"Patrick Jane," said her companion before she could introduce him. "I'm a psychologist."

Lisbon froze.

She'd planned to let them assume he was her date or something, not tell her coworkers she'd brought her shrink with her for moral support.

What the hell was he doing? He's ruining my life, that's what!

Jane held out his hand to shake with her colleagues, who were looking at her in surprised speculation. She watched dumbly as he reached over to the next table and dragged two empty chairs beside her team, smiling at the other table's occupants—three women, who blushed, giggled, and stared at the sexy psychologist.

Sheesh, thought Lisbon numbly, they'd probably give him their first born child if he smiled twice.

"I've heard so much about you guys," continued Jane amiably, after he and Lisbon had sat down.

"Oh?" said Rigsby, shooting a questioning look at his boss.

"Yes. She felt I should get to know the team before we worked together."

He really should have warned her about what he was planning, thought Lisbon, so she wouldn't have this deer in the headlights look after his every statement.

"Work together?" asked Hannigan, a French fry poised before his lips.

At that moment, their waitress appeared to take Jane and Lisbon's orders. She ordered another mug with the idea of fortifying herself from the beer pitcher, and Jane ordered more tea of all things, along with some fish and chips of his own. Lisbon didn't know whether she'd be able to keep anything down, but at Jane's nudge beneath the table, she sputtered out her order of a Reuben sandwich.

"I'm here to consult on your latest open case," Jane lied.

"The Lewis kidnapping?" said Rigsby.

"Yeah, that's the one," said Jane artlessly. "Right, Agent Lisbon?"

Another nudge beneath the table.

"Uh, yeah. That's right," she managed after a beat.

Cho's eyes narrowed. "Minelli didn't say anything about a consultant when I saw him earlier."

"He wanted to talk to your team leader first," said Jane smoothly. Lisbon hoped she'd be able to remember the intricacies of the lie he was weaving.

"We have in-house criminal psychologists and profilers that normally handle this stuff, when they're actually needed," said Hannigan, deeply offended.

"Oh, I'm sure they're very good at their jobs," said Jane. "And I'm not here to take away from that. I'm pretty good at reading people though. Maybe Minelli thought an outsider would add a new perspective."

Everyone was silent a moment, and Lisbon was grateful when the waitress returned with her beer mug. Lisbon was pleased when she didn't slosh it over the sides when she poured her own, her hands were trembling so hard.

"What do you think of this, Boss?" asked Hannigan, his tone accusing.

Lisbon took a long draught of beer, wiped at her mouth delicately, and turned to the older man. "He is very good at reading people," she conceded, happy her voice didn't shake as much as her hands. "It wouldn't hurt for new eyes to look at the case. I know the parents are going out of their minds since all our leads dead-ended a week ago."

Jane smiled encouragingly, and she had the overwhelming desire to pop him one in the nose. She clenched her fists beneath the table.

"What, are you also a psychic or something?" asked Rigsby in amusement. "Because that would come in much handier about now."

"There are no such things as psychics," said Jane breezily.

"This just a one-time deal?" asked Cho, sprinkling more vinegar on his fish.

"Yes," said Lisbon.

"Maybe," said Jane, replying simultaneously.

This time, Lisbon nudged him, not nearly as gently, which made Jane grin almost gleefully.

The bastard was enjoying himself.

"We'll see how it goes," Jane amended, looking around the table at Lisbon's disgruntled team. "So, tell me everything about the case. Minelli wanted me to hear it all from you…"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Outside the restaurant an hour later, Lisbon was as spitting mad as a wet cat, and Jane knew it, so he put a calming hand on her shoulder as they walked back to his Citroen. She shook it off violently, but held off lambasting him until they were safely inside the car. She would have hitched a ride with Cho, but couldn't pass up the opportunity to give the psychologist a real piece of her mind.

"I can't freakin' believe you!"

"What? You didn't have fun? I had fun."

"Yeah, at my expense. That was not how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to act like a friend or something—I'd have even pretended you were my boyfriend, for God's sake—but you told them you're a psychologist? That you were consulting on a case? When Minelli hears about this, there's not just gonna be a crap storm raining down on me, it's gonna be a goddamn hurricane!"

"Rigsby mentioned he was at a conference in DC for a week," said Jane soothingly. "I doubt if any of your illustrious team is going to bother the Big Boss while he's out of town. That gives us a week to solve this case, and then I'll bow out and give you all the credit."

Her mouth dropped open as she looked at him beside her in the driver's seat.

"No, no, no, no, no," she said when she could think coherently. "No way you are going anywhere near the CBI, let alone the case files. I can't begin to count the number of regs I'd be violating if I allowed you past the front door."

"Rules, smules, Teresa. I think I've figured out the secret to solving all of your problems. You need something to stir things up in your humdrum life, something to be excited about, to look forward to—"

"I look forward to still having a job every day," she said heatedly.

"But weren't you invigorated in there, when you didn't know what was going to happen next? Wasn't your blood pumping, your mind racing-?"

"That happens when I'm chasing down a suspect, so I get plenty of that, thank you very much. If you wanted me to go out and have fun with my friends, I'm telling you, Dr. Jane, that little experience just made me want to crawl into bed with a friendly bottle of scotch."

He changed tactics.

"But about the little Lewis girl, Teresa? I really do think I could figure out who might have taken her, or maybe even where she is."

"Not gonna happen."

He shifted in his seat to look at her. "You researched my background, right? Read about my former life with the carnival? Did you see what I used to be called?"

"Yeah, Boy Wonder. So what? You were some sort of fortune teller?"

"Sometimes," he nodded. "But mainly I was a mentalist. I could cold read people, or figure them out based on their body language and other physiological reactions. I passed myself off as a psychic, but it was nothing more than observational tricks. You saw how good I was at reading you," he finished softly.

Lisbon remembered that he had lost his own little girl, and her face softened.

"I realize this must hit close to home, but you do know that after all this time has passed, the Lewis girl is likely dead. It's very sad, but unfortunately that's the way these things almost always turn out."

Jane nodded. "Yes, I've heard this-I've had a few classes in criminology too, by the way. But her parents deserve closure. Maybe I can get that for them. It was hard enough losing my own child to a drunk driver. He died in the accident too, so while it was the worst pain in the world, at least I had closure. I shudder to think what I might have turned into had I never known who killed her, whether I could have stood the never-ending torment knowing that the person who harmed my child wasn't paying for his crime. And in this case it's a million times worse, because those parents have no idea what's really become of their daughter. Let me just look at the file, see if I can give some insight. What could that possibly hurt?"

"But you're my psychologist," she pointed out. "I mean, how the hell did this even happen? One minute I was spilling my guts on your office couch, the next, you've joined my team. Oh, God." She put her face in her hands.

"Let me help," he said seriously. "You won't be sorry. Even you said to the guys that it might be helpful for new eyes to look at the case."

She raised her head to look at him. He certainly looked sincere, but then he'd just completely fooled her team, some of the best investigators she knew. Was she being selfish, though? Could her unwavering adherence to the law be standing in the way of finding an endangered girl?

"Fine. Come into the office first thing Monday morning. You can look at the file—"

"Maybe interview suspects?" he pressed.

"Absolutely not."

"Come on, Teresa. I need to actually talk to some suspects if I'm to gauge their guilt or innocence. You can be present, and kick me under the table again if I do something wrong. I think I'm going to have a bruise by the way—those damn boots of yours should be classified as dangerous weapons."

But he grinned when he said it. His eyes were twinkling persuasively at her, and he was in full charm mode to get his way. He really was irresistible, and she suddenly found herself letting go of every legitimate doubt she'd had just five seconds before.

Talk about your dangerous weapon, she thought sardonically. She blushed, thankful it was dim inside the car, save for the faint light from the restaurant.

"Okay," she relented with a sigh, "but you'd better not corrupt any of the hard work my people have done by asking suspects about their mothers."

Jane chuckled. "I promise, I won't even mention Oedipus."

"Good."

They were quiet a moment in his little car, and they could still hear the drumbeats from the band inside O'Malley's.

"As far as this night is concerned," Jane said, as if picking up an old thread of conversation, "I'm proud of you for choosing to go out, to not sit at home on a Friday night, drinking alone. It was a good first step."

"You're kidding me, right? You just made my life ten times more difficult. I've lied to my friends and colleagues, and if Minelli gets wind of this, it could mean my job. I should have stayed home."

His warm hand suddenly landed on hers where it rested in her lap. She tensed, and her blood pounded double time.

"Once you relaxed and went along with my ruse, you enjoyed yourself, admit it," he said softly. "And besides…the music was good. Lots of good tunes came out of the eighties."

She rolled her eyes. "Now you're really lying," she said, but she was smiling again.

Jane started the car, satisfied that her dark mood had lifted. "Okay then. Where would you like me to drop you?"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He'd taken her to the CBI Headquarters to borrow one of the dark company SUV's, then thought about her all the way back to his office. He'd considered returning to his extended stay motel room (He'd be able to afford a nicer place, if he weren't still paying off the million dollar mortgage on his beach house in Malibu—another thing he couldn't let go of) but the idea seemed extremely dreary after having spent the evening in Teresa's invigorating company.

He had teased her about how great O'Malley's had been, but in actuality, Jane himself had enjoyed their dinner there immensely. It was so nice to be with smart professionals in a lively place with good food. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed socializing. He had to admit to himself that it had been good for him to go out as well. It had been an impulsive decision, designed to get Teresa to do her homework, but as it happened, apparently he'd gotten more out of it than she had.

Now, he had something to look forward to on Monday. He'd have to tell his secretary to cancel his morning appointments-hell, maybe the whole day's. He was due for some time off, but it was only now that he'd found something worthwhile enough to lose money over.

He went into his inner office, and had made it halfway to his desk before he turned and looked at the couch that dominated one wall. Maybe he'd take a quick nap before tackling the backload of paperwork needing his signature. He hung his suit coat on the coat rack, kicked off his shoes, and stretched out on the leather couch. He adjusted the pillows beneath his head to a more comfortable position, and then he smelled her. Teresa…She'd held one of the throw pillows in her lap while she'd spoken to him here earlier, and he turned his face into it, breathing in her cherry vanilla fragrance as if she were there.

He was already walking a fine, blurry line with her. Several lines, really. Lines that demarked professional integrity. Personal interest. Physical attraction. She'd caused him to forget his wife for hours at a time, for crying out loud. The line that had divided him from any kind of personal relationship with a woman was in danger of becoming rubbed out altogether. Damn her green eyes. And her soft skin.

He turned on his back and looked up at the ceiling, allowing himself to think of Teresa, to imagine her lying with him on this couch, her silky hair spread over the pillow, his body covering hers as he lowered his mouth to kiss her sweet lips… Jane had always had a vivid imagination, and this daydream appeared so clear in his mind that he felt an unfamiliar fullness within his slacks. He squeezed his eyes shut, noting with something akin to fear how his breathing had quickened. He turned back onto his stomach and threw the pillow across the room.

But he still smelled her, and it made him groan aloud.

"I want her," he said, his voice muffled against the leather cushion. "Forgive me, Angela, but I do…"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Another tap at his door made Jane roll of the couch from a deep sleep, and he lay on the floor of his office a moment, his heart pounding in startle. The knock came again, and he was suddenly wide awake and on his feet. He stumbled over the blanket he'd used and appeared in the doorway of his inner office. Teresa Lisbon was smiling and waving at him from the other side of the glass front door. He experienced a pleasant stirring of déjà vu.

He smiled back, and went to the door to unlock it. She was wearing a form fitting black t-shirt, blue jeans, and running shoes, and with her dark hair slicked back into a neat ponytail, she looked about fifteen years old. She smelled of the same cherry vanilla he'd slept with all night, and being this close to the source made him feel warm all over. His grin widened.

"Good morning, Teresa. Need an extra dose of brain shrinking this week?"

She laughed, and nodded over her shoulder to where the tow truck was winching up her Mustang.

"Naw, AAA called me a half hour ago, the bastards, so I had to get out of bed early on a Saturday to meet them. I saw your car, so…" She paused, assessing his appearance with humor. "Did you sleep here?"

Jane immediately became self-conscious. He'd been so surprised (and inordinately happy) to see her so soon, that he'd forgotten he must look a mess. He followed her eyes as they started with his wild bed (er, couch) head, his day old stubble, his unbuttoned vest hanging limply at his sides, his shirt hopelessly wrinkled and untucked, pants much the same, and he'd realized for some moments he was missing a sock.

Teresa, however, seemed more amused than bothered by his lack of decorum.

"Sometimes when I work late I end up on the couch," he explained. "Please excuse my appearance. Won't you come in?"

She hesitated, then her next words came out in an impulsive rush. "Have you eaten breakfast?"

His eyes lit up. Breakfast was his absolute favorite meal of the day.

"No," he replied.

"I know this great diner-" they both said at the same time.

Jane chuckled. "Well, come in and give me a minute to clean up, then I'll be the judge of this so-called great diner you know of. How are the eggs?"

"Light and fluffy," she assured him, following him inside. "But I only like scrambled."

He held out a hand, indicating that she have a seat in the waiting room, and he went back into his office. "The real test of a great diner, Agent Lisbon, is the quality of their eggs, over easy," he called.

Then she heard the distant sound of door closing and water running. He must have a bathroom in there, she realized.

In less than ten minutes, he emerged, a new man. She'd heard the buzz of an electric razor, so he was clean shaven, wearing a completely new suit and shirt, his hair and face damp from a quick wetting. He even smelled good.

"Maybe you were a magician in the carnival," she commented, liking what she saw.

"Actually…" he began, then launched into the first of many of his highly entertaining tales of carnival life.

And she was right, Jane thought later. The eggs were spectacular.

A/N: I hope you like the direction things are heading. I think they really are good for each other. Please log in and let me know if you agree. And happy Mentalist Sunday! I'm so excited I can hardly contain myself! I have very high expectations for this season, but somehow I think Bruno Heller will deliver. Look for a tag from me if I'm so inspired, and in the meantime, I posted Nerwen Aldarion's chapter 4 of "Double Talk" yesterday. Please check it out. It'll make the day go by much faster :).

P.S. No offense was meant to the good people of AAA. I'm actually a member, and they've always given me very good service ;)