A/N: Many thanks to latetolove for serving as a beta on this chapter (and providing much encouragement!). All mistakes are mine.

Ranger's POV

"Babe." I raised my hands in protest. I know Stephanie hated my one word answers but honestly, sometimes she left me utterly speechless.

She had never called me Colonel Manoso before. In fact, I was surprised that she even knew my rank. My work with the Army was the only part of my life that she never, ever quizzed me about. She knew that much of my work was classified, and probably always would be.

I arched an eyebrow at her.

"Overheard Tank on the phone one day, last time you were, um, out of town," she told me crisply.

I let my eyes linger on her ruined sweater. Ok, to be truthful, I was insanely interested on what was beneath the ruined sweater, but Dios, that color made her eyes look impossibly blue.

If I'd been thinking a little more clearly while I stared at her chest, I would have realized that she was cold. Damp sweater, windy November day … and the signs were right of front of me. Her shivering suddenly pulled me back to reality.

"Babe," I said again. I'm being a selfish ass, and we need to get you warmed up, was what I meant to say.

I took off my coat and wrapped it around her. "Hey," she protested. "I'll get this mess all over your coat."

Gently, I angled her into the passenger seat of the Turbo. She didn't argue when I brushed a soft kiss across her lips as I clicked the seat belt around her.

Once I was settled on my side of the car, I glanced over at Stephanie and waited. You ready to talk? I waited with my 'you ready to talk?' look.

She was looking at me thoughtfully. "I'll talk while you drive," she said. "But no slipping into your "zone" today, ok? I need you to listen."

The drive from TPD to Haywood is short, no more than 15 minutes when most of the usual and customary traffic rules are obeyed. We made it in 10, and by the time we pulled into the Rangeman garage, Steph had twisted in her seat to face me. Her face was flushed, and occasionally she waved her arms, as if to punctuate a point.

"It's not fair, Ranger. Our soldiers are risking their lives for our country; for us. We owe them the peace of mind that comes with knowing that their families will be taken care of until they make it home." She paused and drummed her fingers on the console. "Just like you know Tank will take care of Rangeman for you when you get called away."

Just like I know Tank will take care of you, Babe.

"Sue Ann can't seem to afford the necessities, let alone Christmas presents for her boys. I wonder how many other families there are in Trenton just like hers?"

When we made it to seven, Steph stopped in the foyer of the apartment. As she let my coat slide off her shoulders, little bits of what looked like candy cane hit the marble floor, scattering in every direction. "I told you this was going to make a mess," she muttered.

She sighed and toed off her boots and then her socks. She unsnapped her jeans and wiggled as she pushed them down over her hips. Almost automatically, she reached out for my arm to steady herself as she pulled out one leg and then the other. The tingle when she touched my skin was more than static electricity … more like one notch short of Taser. Carefully, she started rolling the hem of her sweater, trying to contain the remaining debris, before she tugged the sweater over her head.

Suddenly she was standing in front of me, wearing nothing but a lacy lime green bra and a matching thong. The pebbling of her nipples visible through the sheer fabric of her bra told me that she was still cold … or something. She held the rolled up sweater in her hand uncertainly.

I reached out to take it from her and said simply, "I'll take care of it."

She smiled at me. "You always do, Batman."

Our eyes locked for a moment, and then hers traveled downward to rest briefly on a very conspicuous bulge in my pants. Now I had worked for years to perfect what Steph called my "blank face." Never let your opponent see your emotions. It was an effective strategy, and I was good at it. So good that my friends and family rarely saw my emotions either.

Steph was different. Her face telegraphed her emotions like an electronic billboard in Times Square. Today, emotions were flashing in quick succession. There was longing, only briefly visible, but I know I saw longing there. It was followed by indecision, and finally resignation and resolute determination.

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. "I'll just take a quick shower, ok?"

I tipped my head in a barely perceptible nod to show that I understood. "I'll make that phone call."

Twenty minutes later, Steph appeared at the door of my bedroom, wrapped in a towel. Her face was framed with damp brown ringlets and her cheeks were pink from the heat of the shower. The rosy swell of her breasts above the edge of the white terry cloth had me seriously questioning my decision not to join her in the shower.

"Omigod, that smells good. Is Ella cooking us bacon for lunch?" She sounded surprised.

"Nope. It's guanciale, and I'm making lunch. Ella is out this afternoon." Looking for a baby blue cashmere sweater that matches your eyes.

She watched as I added garlic, onion and red pepper flakes to the pan and gave them a stir before adding crushed tomatoes.

"You're making bucatini all'amatriciana?" I just nodded and shook the sauté pan gently on the stove.

She shook her head incredulously. "Ricardo Carlos Manoso, you never cease to amaze me. Let me guess. You learned to make it in Italy?"

"Newark," I told her with a smirk. My grandparents were Cuban but my father's brother married an Italian woman from Brooklyn. They lived down the street from us when I was growing up. I opened my mouth to tell Steph about my Aunt Elena. "I laid out some clothes for you on the bed," came out instead.

I drained the pasta and tossed it with the sauce while Stephanie disappeared into my bedroom to dress. A few minutes later, she emerged in black yoga pants, a stretchy, electric blue t-shirt, and a black Rangeman fleece. "You forgot my underwear," she scolded.

"No," I told her with a smile. "That's impossible. Your underwear is unforgettable."

I had made the call Stephanie had requested plus two of my own while she was in the shower. I was promised more information by 1600, and we could make little progress with Stephanie's plan until then. We ate at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, and Stephanie twirled the bucatini around her fork in a fashion that would have made her Italian ancestors proud. Unfortunately, her vocal appreciation of the lunch, I had made for us, did little to ease the hard on I had been sporting since we arrived on seven. When her tongue slipped out to catch a bit of sauce at the edge of her mouth, I almost lost it.

Finally she put her fork down on the table and sighed. "That was really delicious, Ranger. You know, I have been wishing that Ella would adopt me, but, now that I know that you can cook like that, maybe you should adopt me instead."

"Adopt you?" The tightness in my pants suddenly eased a bit. I thought I had made it clear that my intentions were anything but parental, but then again, I had often been told that my communications skills were lacking.

Her tone was serious. "Think about it, Ranger. You're already my self-appointed guardian, and God only knows how much money I've cost you over the years. Maybe this way you could take it as a tax deduction."

She slid off her chair and grabbed our plates, turning to rinse them in the sink before placing them into the dishwasher. Suddenly, with her back still turned to me, she let out an excited squeal.

"Julie and I would get to spend more time together because we would be stepsisters! It's a perfect plan!" Like I said, she leaves me utterly speechless.

She threw a backwards glance over her shoulder. "Of course, Ella always makes dessert. She knows how important that is to me. You did plan for dessert didn't you?"

Fuck. Master strategist Carlos Manoso did not plan for dessert. I planned for us to have meatball subs at your favorite restaurant, Babe. Fortunately, Ella had saved my ass again.

"Ice cream for dessert. We have Ben and Jerry's in the freezer."

"Chubby Hubby?" Steph asked hopefully. When she turned back to me, I could see the sparkle in her eye, and her shoulders were shaking with laughter.

"Never gonna happen, Babe."