Before I went back to the office I stopped at my condo and changed into the clothes I had been wearing earlier, I was not stupid enough to walk in there with a completely different outfit on, only to hear Isabell rant with excitement about how I saw Eric. I did not need that for the rest of my life. Until I returned to the office I was incapable of thinking about anything else except the kiss. Why did it bother me so much? Then again, it didn't bother me that much at all, which really concerned me. I rubbed my chest as it started burning again; it was happening frequently and I thought maybe that I had heartburn or something, but I didn't really eat anything, so it must have been the stress.

"He was just teasing me, as always." I said, replaying the scene over and over again, "Actually, he was just putting on a show for those women, it had nothing to do with me. That's what it was." I assured myself. "He knew that every woman in there was staring and whispering about him, why wouldn't he do something like that if he was annoyed?" I asked myself, thinking out loud. "But how do I know if he was annoyed?" I laughed, "He might have liked it; all the attention. Maybe he was just trying to make them 'hot and bothered', the cheeky bastard. Eric would do that, actually he has done that: teased and messed with someone until they can't think strait. He does it to me all the time. Urgggg!" I groaned, "Even when I'm not around him he still drives me insane. He can't be good for my health, I feel my blood pressure rising as it is."

I finally arrived at my building and took the elevator to the twenty-second floor and went into my office. I was welcomed by a small stack of files and reports that had been delivered to me earlier that morning. I sat down and opened the first one. I read it thoroughly, making sure not to miss any details from the police report, but something did trip me up.

"This doesn't make sense. I was told that there were twelve guns found at the scene, but this says there were fifteen." I looked at the pictures of every individual gun, spreading them out on the table. I grabbed the phone off the received and called the police department.

"This is Detective Lancer." Rick answered in the same monotone voice.

"Rick it's Harley, this report, when was it written?"

"Good afternoon to you too," he grimaced, "which one?" he asked.

"The one for the Ballasteros case. I have the reports on my desk but some of this doesn't add up."

"This morning."

"Well why is it that I was told there were twelve guns at the scene when there were fifteen? At least that's what the report says." I asked, I was becoming impatient.

"The other three were found last night by the CSI, we ran the serial number on one of them but it don't belong to any of the guys there. The numbers on the other two were scratched off."

"What about prints?" I asked.

"We ran them a few hours ago, we found prints on one of the guns belonging to a Roger Hernandez, he isn't the original owner of the gun and we have yet to find him, and we found prints on the other two guns belonging to Antonio Ballasteros."

"What?" I yelled at him, "And you couldn't tell me this sooner that Antonio's prints were found on two unregistered guns at the crime scene?"

"I was going to fax you all of that tonight." Rick replied, his voice retreating.

"Next time, don't wait a few hours to send me something that important." I snapped and slammed the phone back onto the received. "Shit." As soon as I started going over the report again my printer started going off, and out popped the latest report from Rick, containing the information he reluctantly just told me. I scanned over it quickly.

"So the twelve guns that are registered were found on or by the persons they belonged to, but the other three were scattered around the room. One the guns Antonio had was hidden in an air vent, and the other behind the toilet bowl. How the hell would he have enough time to stash the guns there if there was a shoot out?" it seemed the Antonio wasn't necessarily the victim.

After the discovery that was made about Antonio and the two firearms with his prints on them, distraction became my top priority. Something was going on, I didn't know what exactly, but something was happening between the Ballasteros cousins and it didn't seem right by any means. No matter how hard I tried to distract myself, I could not get the discovery out of my head. Antonios father told me that his son had never used a gun before in his life, and wouldn't even know what to do with it if he did . . .but his prints were found on three: two that had unknown owners, and the one he was holding to Victors head when the police found them.

"What if the guns were already there?" I asked myself as I walked down the slightly busy Corridor Avenue, "What if he put them there before Victor and his gang arrived? I don't even know if he went to the hotel before his cousin did." I sighed to myself. " I have to talk to Antonio. I'm supposed to be defending this kid, but as of late, I don't know if I want to." I shook my head, letting the cold air wash over me; it felt so refreshing.

I wrapped my jacket tighter around me, not wanting the warmth to disperse and dissipate into the air and continued walking. I decided to think about Café Ardor. What exactly was going to happen there? It sounded appealing, a little, but then again it was Eric who wanted to go. After a few hours of deliberating after office hours I decided to go to the Café simply to entertain and distract myself; if Eric was useful for anything, it was distracting me. After all that is exactly what he had been doing for the past few days.

It was not long until I found it, the small hovel in the ground that was actually attractive. As I in through the window, it appeared to be a very mellow and calm place, the lights were extremely dim, candles dotted the tables and counters, a sweet aroma of coffee and teas filled the air that warmed me from the inside. It reminded me of my grandmothers; every night she would relax by dimming the lights and letting the fireplace be the only source of light. My parents, grandma, and I would sit around it, drinking hot chocolate, eating smores and other sweets until I fell asleep. But that was a very long time ago.

I glanced at my watch, it was ten past eight and leisurely went inside. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust from the bright lights of the street to the low light of the café, but it was very easy for me to locate the patch of blonde hair sitting twenty feet away from me at a table in the middle of the room. I took my jacket off and placed it over my arm, going to the table and sitting across from Eric.

"I knew you would come." Eric grinned, drinking something that smelt absolutely amazing.

"You hoped I would come." I corrected. I placed my jacket on the back of the chair and Eric pushed a large maroon mug in my direction.

"No. I knew you would." he retorted with a smile.

"What is this?" I asked, sensing that it was the same thing that he had.

"I don't know exactly," he looked at his own cup with a scrutinizing expression before looking at me. "It's some combination of coffee and tea with hazelnut and some cream. It's supposed to be the new house special."

"That's . . .interesting." I whispered, taking the mug between my hands and taking a careful sip, being sure not to burn my lips or tongue. However, that didn't matter, it was like liquid fire scorching my throat in the best possible way. There were thousands of flavors that my taste buds and senses went into taste overload. It was sweet, tangy, spicy, and felt like it was melting in my mouth like a solid. I unconsciously took a giant gulp and put the mug back on the table, huffing and puffing from the amazing concoction that I knew I would become obsessed with.

"Is it good?" Eric asked with a smile behind his mug as he took a drink.

"That is fantastic." I grinned, "I've never had anything like it before, it's-it's-it's-it's like sex in a cup."

Eric choked at my last sentence and wiped his mouth with the back of his long sleeve shirt, it wasn't until then that I noticed what he was wearing, which was faded Levi jeans the fit loosely but hinted at his muscular legs, and a gray long sleeve shirt and also hinted at his defined chiseled abs.

"Sex in a cup?" he asked.

"You know what I mean."

"So I take it you like the place then?" he waved his hand in the air, gesturing at the entire café.

"Yes, it's very . . .cozy." I replied. Eric scuffed at my words and gestured for the barista to make another round for us.

"So how did you find this place? I've been living here a few years and never even heard of it."

"I'm one of those guys that sees something he's interested in and checks it out. I was driving through here a few months ago and found it and tried it out. Next thing I knew I was here every night."

"Every night? Drinking things like this?" I asked, raising my almost empty mug.

"Not just to drink, they have performances from local bands, artists, poets, and real artsy people every night. They're really entertaining and interesting, but mostly I come for the environment." he added.

"Is anyone performing tonight?"

"Later. I know the performer, I could introduce you to him." he suggested.

"Oh no, you don't need to. I just want to see everything." I said with a small smile, "So how did the rest of the house showing go?"

"Absolutely boring since you left. It went to shit."

"I doubt that."

"It's true." Eric replied, leaning forward, "I was so bored after you left that I could barely keep my eyes open when I talked to the idiots."

"I didn't even do anything." I said, rolling my eyes at him, "I just went to watch you work."

"True, but after you left I lost my inspiration to show off." he grinned.

"Inspiration? What am I now . . .some realtor muse?" I laughed.

"You are to me."

"Right . . ." I dragged out, looking at the stage that was being prepared, or rather, on the brink of being finished.

"So did you really leave because you had to go?" Eric asked. In the low light I could hardly see his face, only his glistening eyes and the blonde hair that seemed to sparkle from the candle light. However, I could still tell that something was different, his entire atmosphere had changed in an instant. He was relaxed, his body slouched and he brooded over the table; it made me wonder if that was how Eric really was, the completely relaxed café guy.

"Of course." I answered. "Did you think there was some other reason?" before he could answer, the small chatter of the room was interrupted by a static tap reverberating off the walls from the microphone. Eric looked over his shoulder toward the stage and stood up, taking both the mugs with him.

"I'll be back." he said, I nodded and continued to look at the stage. The man that had just tapped the microphone sat down on a small stool, bongo drums resting on his lap. He adjusted the microphone that was in front of his drums and have the drum a small tap, making sure that the microphone picked up the sound, which it did. I released a deep breath and relaxed in my comfortable seat, waiting for the show to start. A waitress came by with another mug of that amazing liquid that I just savored and set it before me along with a straw. I cupped my hands around the mug and absorbed the warmth.

Café Ardor could possibly be my new favorite place, I thought. The people around me started clapping when the lights shut off completely and the spot lights came on; the only light that illuminated the room were the two bright lights pointing at the man with the drums and the empty stool next to him. The light was bright enough that it just barely grazed my face, it made me think that if I could barely see anything where I was sitting, then the people behind me couldn't see a damn thing and were in complete darkness. I leaned forward on the table, perching my elbows on the edge, but still in hand.

It could be said that I was completely and utterly relaxed at that moment, seeing as all my senses were overwhelmed by the atmosphere; however, my chest started to burn and my body tensed slightly when I watched Eric walk onto the stage, an acoustic guitar in hand, waving out to the audience. Claps and whistles of approval erupted around me. Eric smiled and sat down, taking a very long glance in my direction as he put the strap over his head and around his neck, setting the guitar comfortably on his lap, ready to play.

"I didn't know he played guitar." I whispered to myself, drinking my liquid fire.

"How's everybody doing tonight?" he asked. The audience replied variations of "good" and "great". "Awesome. Well . . .I know It's been a while since I played here last, so that's why a wrote a new song." clapping and whistling became relentless at his words.

Is he like a celebrity here or something? I thought.

"This past week has been really crazy for me," he continued, "I met someone who . . .umm, is a real piece of work." he gave a stressed laugh followed by a smile, the audience did the same.

"I am not a piece of work, you piece of shit." I said to myself, "How can he say that about me in front of all these people? He's going to get it." I scowled at him from across the room.

"But I'll stop talking and let the song speak for itself." he said. The audience clapped again, save me, then became silent so that he could begin. The bongo drums started in a very soft and jazz like rhythm. A few seconds in Eric started playing, following along with the soft and jazz like rhythm of the drums. He wasn't using a pick to strum, instead he was plucking the strings individually, creating unique and relaxing sounds. I could feel myself being carried away by the music, swaying to it, listening to the beauty of it as well as the simplicity. Then he started singing.

The meaning of the feeling

That comes upon me when you're looking at me

And the scent I've left behind

For something else, there's a different feeling

How when you're eyes are still closed but you can still see everything

I wonder if your whole entire day

Was still beautiful without me

I was completely and utterly awestruck, no wonder why the women were constantly swooning over him. Eric's voice was like John Mayers, simply beautiful and memorizing if he sang the right song, and Eric was singing the right song. As he sang and paid attention to the lyrics, and felt them hover over me and tingle my skin. But the pit of my stomach started to cringe, my heart began pounding uncontrollably and the faintest perspiration began to show on my forehead. I shook my head, pushing the memories away and listened to the music, to the sound of the guitar; calming myself down before I ran out.

What makes me cry

Of having to break up with you

Don't speak of such sad things

So that you and me alone

Can remain in this beautiful state

In this world

My days and your nights

Oversee a similar ending

Baby lover, let's close our eyes together

Give it up give it up, the drummer sang quickly

Can you see the light, Eric sang in a whisper like tone and looked directly at me with the most undeterred expression that I felt embarrassed while he sang and smiled at me.

Give it up give it up, the drummer sand again

There ain't no on here. Eric sang again, still keeping his eyes on me.

Give it up give it up

It's our only way

Can you see the light in me

Give it up give it up

Don't be scared Love

Give it up give it up

There'll be a song for you

Give it up give it up

Let the flowers rejoice

Can you see the light in me

I was in a daze, along with every other woman in the room, but it was a different daze; it wasn't the typical admiration and desire that most women had in their eyes, it was the surprised and curious daze that made me want to know more. Perhaps it was the way the light hit him, illuminating his already beautiful features, or his voice that wounded like angle wings after a disaster, or the sound of the guitar that filled me with sheer . . .something . . .on the inside. It filled me with bliss, mellow, unmarred bliss. But I was mesmerized. In that moment I was completely and utterly engulfed in all that was Eric Northman. I didn't want it to end, I wanted to stay frozen in time, listening to his voice, his guitar, filling the air like water after a long drought.

When I heard the final pluck of the string and the sound of the audiences clapping surround me, I knew it was over, the water after the drought was gone and I was still thirsty for more. . .I felt . . .unsatisfied. Which was a first for me. Eric waved at the audience and set the guitar on the stand before disappearing behind the curtain. It was only moments later that I saw him again, mug in hand with the same fire liquid, sitting in front of me.

"What did you think?" he asked, clearing his throat. His voice became more course, which I assumed the singing could be blamed for that. It took me a second to register what he said, I was still in a trance, listening to his voice and guitar in my heard like a film.

"It was alright," I grimaced, pushing my empty mug away while shrugging my shoulders. I was going to admit to him that I was impressed, very impressed at that.

"Alright?" Eric scuffed, "I wrote that song for you." he said, thinking that it would make my response any different.

"Am I supposed to be flattered?" I asked, "You probably do this for every girl you meet."

"I haven't done it for any actually," he said, slouching back in his seat and kicking his right leg out from under the table so that he was in a relaxed position, "you're the first."

I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling and looked at the ceiling; my chest was burning again. I ignored the temptation of rubbing it and grabbed my jacket from behind the chair. "This was . . .fun, I guess." I said as I put my jacket on.

"Are you leaving?" Eric asked, his voice shrouded in alarm.

"There's something I have to do in the morning." I replied, buttoning up my jacket before pushing my chair back and standing up; Eric stood up as I did.

"Can't you stay a little longer?" he asked, grabbing his jacket as he followed me out of the café.

"I don't want to." I lied. Sorta. It wasn't much of a lie, but it also was. I did want to stay, but I thought that if I stayed I would get too close to the man I was little by little starting to tolerate. So I thought it would be best if I left before anything went any further, or before I could make a fool of myself.

"Now you're giving me the cold shoulder?" he chided, following briskly behind me in the cold air and slick street. I hadn't realized it, but it had started raining as soon as I arrived at Café Ardor; by the time I left it turned into a light sprinkle.

"I have shit to do. Get over it." I snapped at him. Now he was starting to annoy me.

"We all have shit to do, Harley." I could tell by the huskiness in his voice that he was getting angry, "But I would like to do shit with you."

"Well I don't want to do shit with you. So go back in there and play your guitar." I barked back, glaring at him even though he couldn't see it because he was walking behind me. It amazed me how quickly he could aggravate me, but it was the first time that I ever saw Eric get even a smidge upset at me or at anything. The moment he grabbed me by the elbow and whirled me around, almost causing me to slip until he caught me just as quickly as he turned me, I knew that I had pushed a button.

"Why don't you like me?" Erics voice was stern and his expression hard as a rock when he asked the question. For the briefest millisecond I was frozen with fear; however, I regained myself and my composure.

"I never said I didn't." I answered.

"Then why do you do shit like this?"

"Like what?" I asked, not understanding.

"Like that stunt you just tried to pull; we start having a good time, then you make some excuse to leave."

"They are not excuses." I corrected, "They are legitimate reasons."

"Bullshit."

"Bullshit?" I hissed at Eric, pushing him hard enough that he stumbled back a few feet, "I know what I want out of life, Eric. And I'm trying my damnd'est to get it."

"You expect me to believe that?" he asked with a laugh, "You expect me to believe that every time you run away it's about your career?"

"I do not run away." I retorted.

"Yes you do. And this," he gestured both of us, "this is the reason why. You're scared of this, of what could happen between us."

"That already happened, Eric." I chided.

"I'm not talking about sex." Eric closed the distance between us as the subtle rain gradually became heavier. Umbrellas covering heads surrounded us as the sidewalk began to fill with people again, leaving us as the only two people, unmoving, soaking wet, in the middle of the sidewalk. "You're afraid that this will go farther than you'll want, that you'll have feelings for me, that we'll become something and end up on your face in the mud. That's what your running from, Harley: that fear that you're gonna fall for me and I'm gonna break your heart . . .tell me I'm wrong." he challenged. My chest started burning again. I wiped my hand across my face, getting the water that was making me blind out of my eyes and looked at him.

"You're right." I yelled through the pouring rain and thunder. Erics hardened expression softened, but not into satisfaction, which was what I expected. I thought that he would feel gratification from hearing me say that he was right, that I was afraid of our relationship becoming more than it already was, but it wasn't like that at all, instead, it seemed like he didn't register that I had just admitted what I was afraid of-he didn't expect that. "But it's that way with every guy I meet." I added, "I don't trust people, Eric. Ever since I was a little girl I never trusted people . . .because you never know what they're capable of. I live life the only way I know how to, by going after what I want and doing everything on my own, and you, you're not like that. You're the complete opposite of me . . .and I don't trust that at all."

"You don't know me." Eric said, his expression soft, yet sullen.

"And you don't know me." I replied, "You never should have approached me at the Pub."

"I don't regret that." he said, "I don't regret meeting the uptight, stubborn, arrogant, self-righteous lawyer that keeps her guard up all the time. Sure you may piss me off, but I've never regretted meeting you. If I could go back in time I would still make the same choices, I would still approach you, I would still walk you home, I would still show up at your office the next day, I would still give you that spa gift basket with the note inside. I don't regret anything that I have done with you, Harley."

It felt like I was in a scene of a movie, like The Notebook. That scene where Noah and Allie just got off the river and onto the dock because of the rain, and just as she was about to run into the house, she asks Noah why he never wrote her. They spill out their hearts on that dock in the rain, completely consumed by one another until it's overwhelming, and they make love. That's what being there with Eric felt like in that moment . . .overwhelming and consuming.

"Did you really write that song for me?" I asked.

"Yes."

"I lied when I said it was alright." water began to pool into my eyes, and it wasn't because of the rain.

"I know."

"It was actually really really good," tears mixed with rain as they fell down my cheek, and I was more than glad that it was raining so that Eric couldn't tell, but none of that mattered. Before I could say anything else, that last foot between us was closed as Eric took my hand and pulled me into him, taking his other hand and cupping my face before pressing his lips to mine. It was tender, heartbreaking, reassuring, and dangerous all at once; my emotions were flying everywhere and I still couldn't grasp everything, I didn't want him, but I did at the same time. I felt a mitigated version of love and hate for him, but when he kissed me all thoughts of that went away; I didn't know Eric, but when he kissed me like that, I felt that I knew everything about him, that he didn't need to explain anything or tell me how he felt . . .it was all there.

When Eric pulled away, there was no gentle tug on my bottom lip, only his breath against mine and his thumb running across my cheek, whizzing the hidden tears away.

"Let's get out of here before you get sick." he said, taking my hand in his before leading me down the sidewalk.