A/N: Hello, all. Sorry this chapter took so long. It didn't want to cooperate with me. I'm not too fond of it either. Whatever. I may not fit with the rest of the story so far. If that's the case, I apologize. That said, I actually hope you like it.

Disclaimer: While both Starting Over and We've Only Just Begun spin off into an alternate universe after No Bad Guy, I reserve the right to include/refer to events from all subsequent episodes. Just thought I'd add that in case of confusion. It's late. I might not make sense. Enjoy.

"I thought I wasn't going to like you," Kat announced as she and Joan strolled through Central Park. It was Saturday afternoon in early July and the two women had just finished shopping for Adam's birthday gift. They had developed the custom of spending their Saturdays together since both Adam and Rodney worked. Kat knew Joan was gaping at her, could almost hear the jumble of questions tumbling in her mind. She briefly considered elaborating on her comment. But she also knew enough of human nature to know that Joan needed to process the statement first. It was all in the timing, really. Kat was a great believer in timing, mostly because she didn't believe in sugarcoating anything she had to say. Spotting a free bench, a miracle at this time of day, Kat maneuvered them toward it and gratefully plopped on it. Then she settled in to wait for Joan's inevitable response.

Finally, Joan asked, "Did Adam say something to make you think that?"

"Girl, please." Kat laughed, surprised that Joan's thoughts followed that particular line of reasoning. "That boy acts a fool over you. As far as he's concerned, the universe revolves around the sun, but the sun revolves around you. That's not it."

"Then what?" Suspicion dawned on Joan's face. "You aren't in love with him, are you?" she whispered fiercely.

Biting her lips to contain her laughter, Kat shook her head. "No, I'm very much in love with Rodney. But Adam is very dear to me," she added, her amusement fading. "He reminds me of someone I lost."

"Who?"

"A cousin. We were tight, but . . . in the end, it didn't matter." Kat shrugged and forced a smile before moving on. "I watched Adam stumbled through the aftermath of your break-up and I supported him as he rebuilt himself. The man he's become is special to me. He deserves someone equally special. The Joan he remembered might be that someone. I was afraid that the Joan he proposed to might not be." Katrina wondered whether or not Joan was offended, but didn't regret anything she'd said. She'd meant every word or else she wouldn't have said it.

"It's not my place to make that judgment, I know," she continued. "He loves you. But . . ."

"People change and not always for the better," Joan concluded, her voice matter-of-fact.

"I watched my cousin make the same mistake. He was so in love that he didn't see his girlfriend who she really was. He wouldn't listen to me. He wouldn't listen to anybody and his girlfriend ruined him. Adam worked too hard to become the person he is now for me to let that happen."

"You're really protective of him," Joan said quietly.

"He's family now," Kat explained simply. "Even so, the point I'm trying to make is that, for what it's worth, you're everything I hoped he'd find and then some. You're good for him."

Joan didn't answer immediately. Kat waited. She wasn't nervous or scared. She'd said her piece and now she would wait patiently for the response.

"You have no idea how much that means to me."

Looking into Joan's teary, relieved eyes, Kat felt herself really begin to let go of Adam. It wasn't her job to look out for him anymore. "I think I do."

"Thank you for being here for him."

"You're welcome."

They fell silent, each thinking over what had just happened between them. "We didn't find anything for Adam and his birthday party's tonight," Joan said suddenly.

"He's hard to shop for."

"He's always been that way. Kat?" Joan asked.

"Yes?"

"There's something I've been thinking about asking you. I wasn't sure if I should but I am now."

Kat frowned at Joan's halting build-up. "What is it?"

"I was wondering if you'd be my bridesmaid."

"Really?" She hadn't expected that.

"Like you said, you and Adam are family. You're like a sister to him. And I like you. But more than that, you were here for him when I couldn't be. I've seen you two together and I know that a large part of who he's become is because of you. So, I guess what it really boils down to is that I trust you. So will you . . . be my bridesmaid?"

"I'd love to."

"There you are," Joan exclaimed as she came through the roof access door and found Adam on a lounge chair. "I've been looking all over for you."

"Hey." He set his sketchbook aside and swung his legs around so that he sat facing her. "Finally going to let me help with the clean-up?"

She came to stand between his knees and rested her arms on his shoulders. "No. You are not allowed to clean up after a party thrown in your honor. Besides, we're done. What have you been up to?" she asked, peering at the sketchbook behind him.

"Work."

"How's that coming?" He had a showing coming up next month and he'd been putting in fourteen-hour days six days a week. Apparently, his birthday was no exception.

He shrugged and buried his face in her stomach. She felt his kiss and her stomach clenched in response. Then he sighed and looked up at her. "It's not."

"Why?"

"My thoughts keep straying to a certain new distraction," he said pointedly.

Chuckling, she sank onto his lap. "Is it a good distraction?"

"Now you're fishing."

"Yes, I am. Quite shamelessly."

Adam laughed and Joan laid her head on his shoulder, drinking in the sound. She snuggled into him, relishing the simple pleasure of being together. It felt like they'd spent the entire evening with his friends instead of with each other. "Did you enjoy your birthday?"

"Yeah, it was pretty good," he answered, kissing her forehead. "I talked to my dad."

"How is he?"

"Good. He's upset that his doctor put him on a low-fat, low-calorie diet, though."

Joan made a sympathetic face. "Poor man."

"Since he can't eat what he's used to eating, he's taking a cooking class. I'd love to see that."

Pleased as she was to see him so relaxed, Joan still clucked her tongue at him. "That's not nice."

"Fried egg sandwiches. That's all I'm saying."

"You win." She nestled deeper into his arms and closed her eyes. He was absently rubbing her back, a move guaranteed to put her to sleep. For reasons she couldn't currently pinpoint, she liked the idea of falling asleep in Adam's arms very much. She stifled a yawn. It had been a long day.

He noticed anyway. "Sleepy?"

She nodded.

Adam stood and carried her down to his bedroom. He set her on the bed and took off her shoes. Then he went to his dresser and pull out a pair of navy-blue silk pajamas. Tossing the bottoms on a nearby chair, he sat beside her on the bed and began to undress her.

She watched his face. He seemed detached, business-like. It was like he was trying to undress her without seeing what he was doing. But, every time his fingers brushed against her skin, his brow furrowed a little more and he pursed his lips. He tugged her dress down her hips and legs, then jumped up off the bed and went dutifully to the closet to hang it for her.

Even in her drowsy state, Joan knew that Adam was behaving strangely. He'd done this before. Though she'd never admit it, she had even faked exhaustion a couple of times just so he'd put her to bed like this. He was always so gentle with her, whispering silly bedtime stories and trailing soft kisses over her stomach or down her neck. Once he even braided her hair for her. Now he was acting like they'd never been that intimate. Draping one hand across her stomach and fingering a strand of hair with the other, Joan wondered if his behavior had anything to do with why he'd slept on the living room sofa since she'd arrived.

After taking an inordinate amount of time to hang up her dress, Adam turned back toward her. He went utterly still, even stopped breathing. As he carefully swallowed whatever he was thinking, Joan wondered how she must look to him. If she were less selfish, she'd have taken pity on him and put on the pajama top herself. But she wasn't less selfish and she missed spending time with him. She'd barely seen him most of the trip.

Adam came back to sit beside her and tried, without success, to keep his eyes off of her. "What?" she finally whispered.

"What?" He sounded nervous.

Joan smiled. She couldn't help it. "Why are you looking at me like that? You've seen me in my underwear before."

"True," he said, nodding. "It's just . . ." he trailed off.

"Yes?"

Casting about for the right words, he finally sighed and met her eyes. "It's been a long time and you didn't look like this back then."

"Is that a good thing or bad?"

Adam blushed. "You've always been beautiful, but Jane . . ." he trailed off again and stared at the shirt in his hands.

"What?"

"You'll think I'm an art dork or something."

She laid her hand over his hand. He lifted his eyes to hers and she gave him a beautifully innocent smile. "I think that anyway."

Rolling his eyes, Adam chuckled. "You know that painting by Botticelli of Venus? She's standing on a shell and covering herself with her hair."

Joan nodded, amazed to find that she did know it.

"Well, seeing you like this reminds me of it except you're not a redhead. You just look so soft and . . ." he looked up at the ceiling, "lush and . . ."

"Are you having dirty thoughts about me, Adam Rove?" she teased.

His blush, which had been growing since they started this discussion, conquered his face and spread down his neck. "Yeah, I am."

The admission pleased her more than she wanted to admit, so she took the shirt out of his hands and slipped it on. He pressed a quick, relieved kiss to her forehead and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" she called after him. She'd hoped he would stay with her.

"I'm going to let you get to sleep. I still have some work to finish before I go to bed."

"Oh." Joan tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She failed miserably. "Adam, are you avoiding me?"

"No, of course, not. Why would you think that?"

Joan shrugged. "Well . . . I mean, we haven't really spent a lot of time together since I got here . . ."

"I'm sorry about that," he said as he sat beside her.

She waved off his apology. "You have to work; I understand that. I'm not complaining. But . . ."

"What is it?"

"Why do you sleep on the sofa instead of with me?" she asked, feeling very vulnerable.

"I've been going to bed so late recently; I didn't want to disturb you."

"I don't mind being disturbed," she said with a small smile. "It's not like I have anywhere pressing to be."

"Jane," Adam began, taking her hand in his, "how would me sleeping in here change the fact that we have so little time together?"

"You come check on me every night. You didn't know I knew that, did you?"

He shook his head.

"I can feel you when you're near me, even when I'm sleeping." She gave a little, self-conscious laugh. "It's not the same as being able to talk to you, but knowing you're beside me, waking up to you in the morning, I'd like that.

"So stay with me." He lowered his eyes and Joan's spirits dropped. "Is this what our marriage is going to be like? You keep your clothes in our room and sleep on the couch?"

Adam looked at Joan like she'd just asked him to explain quantum theory. "You lost me."

"You go to bed after me and wake up before me. It's always been that way," she said patiently. "That's not going to change after we get married, so where does that leave us?"

"I was just trying to be considerate, Jane."

"And I appreciate that. I really do." Joan cupped his cheek in her hand. "But I want you with me more than I want you to be considerate."

He wasn't telling her everything. She could see it in his eyes; he was sorting out his feelings and reasons. Finally, he said, "Jane?"

She raised her eyes to his.

"I do want to stay with you."

"But?"

"But I have some things I need to finish."

Nodding through her disappointment, she gave him a thin approximation of a smile. "You'll come check on me?"

"Yeah." He smiled back but it didn't conceal the thoughts hiding in his eyes.

Impulsively, Joan wrapped her arms around him, wanting to keep him close a little longer. She buried her nose in the crook of his neck and inhaled. She loved the way he smelled. It was a cross between hot metal, supple skin, and the natural musk every man seemed to mature into. The combination was heady, intoxicating, and Joan found herself inching deeper into his arms. She didn't want to let him go.

Adam stroked her hair. She could feel him preparing to leave. Determined to be mature about his decision, she pulled back so that she could wish him good night. "Don't go."

Her eyes widened in surprise. Clearing her throat, she decided to try the mature thing again. "Please?"

Slamming his sketchbook closed and tossing it aside in disgust, Adam flopped back in his lounge chair and sighed. This was not supposed to happen. Groaning, he covered his face with his hands and tried to scrub away the image of Joan arching beneath him, gasping his name, her nails digging into his shoulders. He was supposed to be stronger than this. The thought made him laugh. He wasn't strong enough and he knew it. She was his weakness. That was the problem.

For the past month, he'd been avoiding this. Everything had been happening so quickly between them from the moment she entered his shed five months ago. He knew that for them to have sex so soon would confuse things, at least for him. With his gallery showing so close, what he desperately needed was clarity. At the moment, the only things clear to him were his memories of the two of them: their first time together, their last time four years ago, and all the times in between. Each memory vied for his attention, making him crazy. He had no protection against them. Even sitting on his roof in nothing but his pajama bottoms, he could feel her heat envelop him. His every nerve ending tingled; she surrounded him.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to regret tonight. These last few weeks had been difficult for Adam knowing she was so close, imagining her in his bed. The only reason he'd made it this far without touching her was because he channeled all his pent-up frustration into his art. Which is what you should be focusing on right now, he reminded himself as he sat on the side of the chair. Not on how the moonlight illuminated her skin or how exquisite the curves and lines of her body are or how she whispered "I love you" in her sleep as you got out of bed.

Eager to find something to distract him from his wayward thoughts, he let his eyes roam over the rooftop. His birthday party had spilled over onto the roof. Maybe someone had left something interesting behind. Anything to take his mind off of Joan. He had almost given up the search when a glint by one of the side tables caught his eye. Relieved to have something else to think about, Adam retrieved the item.

It was a gift bag. Attached to the front of it was an envelope addressed to him in Joan's handwriting. With all of tonight's activities, Adam hadn't even noticed that Joan hadn't given him a gift. So much for not thinking about her, he thought as he took the bag back to his seat and opened the envelope and pulled out the card. A picture of Rodin's The Kiss was on the front. Charmed in spite of himself, he opened the card and found it filled with Joan's script.

My Dearest Adam,

I've searched this entire city and do you know what I discovered? That you are the hardest person to shop for that I've ever known. What do you get the most important person in your life? How do I pay proper tribute to you on this sacred day? I wanted to get you something that showed the depth of my feelings for you. A grand, magnificent something that you'd always remember, photographic memory notwithstanding. Instead, I'm giving you something humble, possibly even insignificant. But it is a part of me. And now it's yours as all that I am is yours. I hope you cherish it as I cherish you. Happy birthday.

With all my love,

Jane

Blinking back tears, Adam set the card aside, marveling at how easily she affected him. His hand shaking ever so slightly, he pushed the decorative tissue aside and pulled out a battered brown leather book. Puzzled, he turned to the first page.

June 12

It's my second day in New York and it's so big. Maybe it's not big so much as full. There's just so much here, I don't know where to start. I wish Adam were here. I want to see the city through his eyes. But he has to work. Oh, well. Maybe this weekend we'll get to do something. . . .

She'd given him her trip journal. Flipping through the pages, he was surprised to find she'd filled it. Knowing his curiosity would overcome any further attempt to work, Adam settled back in his chair and began to read.

He soon discovered that Joan had been very busy. She'd explored the East Village, which she considered quaint, as well as "fascinating" SoHo. After that, she spent the rest of her first week going to some of New York's high-profile landmarks. "But I'm saving the Empire State Building for Adam," she wrote. "As amazing as it was the other day, I can only imagine what it'll be like at night with his arms around me. I'm such a sap." She'd spent her second week visiting the various art museums. Then she stumbled on the Garment District. She'd spent that week shopping.

Interspersed with her city adventures were her impressions of his friends. She liked them all, but Kat and Rodney captivated her:

June 14,

Adam's roommates returned from Savannah today. Rodney's very handsome in a low-key sort of way. If you glanced at him, you wouldn't notice it but if you really pay attention, you wonder how you missed it. Kat, on the other hand, is gorgeous. Not in an Elizabeth Taylor, Halle Berry kind of way. They're obviously beautiful. Kat's more of a "Who's That Lady," can't-take-my-eyes-off-you-if-my-life-depended-on-it-you're-so-intriguing kind of gorgeous. Alluring is the word. Should I be worried that Adam has surrounded himself with extraordinarily beautiful women? Maybe it's just the artist in him. . . .

June 15,

. . . . Kat calls him Sugar Bear. It's the cutest thing. He blushes whenever she says it and gives me an embarrassed but pleased look out of the corner of his eye. Sugar Bear suits him, but I think I'll leave it to Kat. It's her nickname for him, like Jane is his nickname for me. They really are adorable together like brother and sister. I'm really glad he has her for a friend. . . .

June 18,

My mind has seriously been blown. Rodney just showed me his music collection. I know he's a DJ and is in a band and all, but wow. I don't think most music stores have a selection as vast as this. . . .

Most of the journal was like this—filled with a sense of wonder. Between his legitimate need to work and his irrational desire to keep their renewed relationship from getting out of hand, he'd missed Joan's introduction to his city. However, she seemed to be concerned with how enmeshed in the city he really was. He hadn't realized how important this trip was to her until he read her entry from two night's before.

July 3,

. . . . I haven't talked to Adam about this, but I've been thinking about where we're going to live. Before I came here, a part of me just assumed we'd live in Arcadia even though I knew his career was here. I think that so much of who we are together is tied up with home to me that I never thought of us living anywhere else. But being here, seeing Adam's life, if not Adam, we could be happy here. His friends here love him and, as much as I'd missed Grace and my family, I love him more. It's not like we can't visit.

I checked with the school board here, informally, to see what kind of positions are open. The prospects look good. Maybe after Adam's showing we'll sit down and talk about it. I can't wait until August. I want to see what he's working on (he's been so secretive) but mostly I want to spend some time with him. . . .

Adam closed the journal, a little stunned. She was willing to move here for him. He'd never really considered where they should live. He'd been afraid to. He didn't want to get attached to a certain preference before they discussed their individual needs and concerns. Suddenly feeling drained, he gathered Joan's gift and his sketchbook and pencil and went back to his apartment. He dumped everything on the dining table even though he knew Kat hated when he or Rodney did that. Then, after hesitating for a moment, he crept into his bedroom and slid into bed next to Joan.

"Adam?" He turned to see her staring at him. "You're cold."

"Sorry," he whispered.

Joan scooted closer to him and aligned her body with his. She wrapped an arm and a leg around him and squeezed him lightly.

"What are you doing?"

Nuzzling his neck with her nose, she yawned and murmured, "Warming you."

He held her close and, smiling, surrendered to the inevitable. He knew where he'd be for the rest of her visit. He never wanted to be anywhere else. With a light kiss on her hair, he squeezed her back. "Thank you."