A/N - thanks for the reviews - here's more fluff!
Part 4
For the second time that day he was the victim of a home invasion – and for the second time it wasn't exactly unwelcome.
"Like mother like daughter?" He said as he emerged from the basement to find Jenny Shepard standing in his hallway.
"I did knock, but no one answered," she replied, "and the door was open."
"Yeah," he leaned against the wall watching her. The hours since their first encounter had done nothing to change her effect on him. He watched the way her hair fell over her shoulders, let his eyes travel over her body, down long legs encased in jeans.
He liked the fact that she didn't back down at his scrutiny and he really liked the fact that she'd taken the initiative. "I brought you something to say thanks for being so good about my very own tiny house breaker," she offered him a bottle of wine, his fingertips brushing hers as he took it from her hand.
"You drink bourbon?" He asked putting the bottle onto a table.
"I've been known to."
"Bourbon's in the basement," he told her – heading back down the stairs without waiting to see if she would follow, though the sound of her heels on the basement stairs wasn't exactly a surprise.
"Is your first name Noah by any chance?" She asked as she nodded towards the hull of the boat.
"Nope," he dumped a collection of brushes out of a mason jar and poured a slug of bourbon into it – handing it to her. He felt better, whether it was the hours spent working on the boat or the woman he wasn't prepared to say. So he went back to his sanding, watching out of the corner of his eye as she looked around her. "Did you talk to Lucia?"
"Told her a bedtime story over the phone. She's fine," her smile was just a little wistful, "and she'll be back bright and early tomorrow morning – probably very bright and very early."
"That what you and your ex were fighting about?"
"Negotiating – not fighting," he couldn't help noticing that she had corrected his description of the argument he'd witnessed, but left his description of the man alone. "Lucia was supposed to spend the whole weekend with him – but he has something on tomorrow, so he's bringing her back early." The tension had crept into her face and she took a quick swallow of her drink. He was still watching her as she looked up – the question in his eyes one she chose to answer. "He's something of a reluctant father – he loves her, but he'd prefer not to have to look after her."
He didn't know what to say to that – it sounded complicated. "I wanted kids, he didn't. He gave in because it made me happy but then when I was pregnant he started to freak out and then when she was born,"
"He couldn't handle it?" She shook her head, her gaze skittering away from him and he hesitated wary of pressing her more.
"He left when she was two months old – it's taken me this long to persuade him that he should be more than an occasional presence in her life. I'm not sure I'm making all that much progress."
He didn't know how she'd coped, but he guessed she'd had no choice – small babies were demanding and they didn't wait around while their parents sorted themselves out. He guessed she blamed herself but he wasn't planning to ask her that – just as he didn't need to ask her if she regretted her choice. You only had to see her with her daughter to know the answer to that.
"How'd you manage?"
"She was so tiny, she needed me – I took care of her, my dad took care of everything else. My team was great as well."
"Your team?"
"They're a little odd but amazing in a crisis; I'm with Homeland Security – profiling and intelligence unit."
He should have been surprised and perhaps irritated, but some sense he barely recognised had pegged her for a cop or a Fed so instead he asked, "you ever work with Tom Morrow?"
"I report to Deputy Director Morrow." He wondering how 'odd' her team really was and how Morrow dealt with them. "Are we done with the interrogation Special Agent Gibbs?" He tilted his head at her and she failed to hide her smile, "come on – you don't think I brought a house for my daughter and I without checking out who my neighbours were?"
He couldn't fault the instinct, "I take it your investigations revealed I lived alone?"
"I believe that piece of information came from Noemi via one of your other neighbours." He grinned at that – imagining how his neighbours had described him – she smiled back and the companionable moment hovered on the brink of becoming something more.
"It wasn't as interrogation," he told her, "I was trying to flirt – apparently not that well."
She shook her head slightly and then said ruefully, "it's been a while since anyone flirted with me – could be I've forgotten how it goes."
"Sounds like we both need the practice," he offered.
She smiled and finished her drink. "I should get back."
"Enjoying the peace and quiet?"
"The house is empty without her." He watched her head to the stairs, swallowing his drink for something he refused to identify as dutch courage.
"You eaten?" The question stopped her at the foot of the stairs; she looked back over her shoulder at him and shook her head. "The takeout menus are upstairs." A hint of a smile curled over her lips as she turned back to face him.
"That wouldn't be an invitation to dinner would it?" At his single nod she said, "wow, you really do need practice at this."
TBC
