"Well?" Karen interrupted him, standing there with her hand held out. Carlton looked down at her open hand. "Wha—" Could he not even finish a word? /Asshat./

"You said you wanted to learn."

Panic began to take over. "NO, I—that is—I don't—"

"I'm offering."

"But people—"

"You're the only one in here." Her smile was soft. "Who's going to see you?" He didn't remember putting his hands in her. He didn't remember her leading him to the middle of the bar, but he found himself there, staring down at large, dark eyes like whiskey and a lovely face as Ben E. King sang with soul. Eyes like pure amber.

"I—uh, that is—" Carlton almost hit the ceiling as a small, tapered hand, unusually elegant for someone who worked in a bar, slid into his. Whiskey eyes glimmered in the dim, smoky haze. He could feel that cursed heat flowing to his face as Karen took his other arm and pressed his hand to his shoulder blade.

"This is how I know where you want me to go." She pushed on his hand and her body reacted as she moved slightly to the left. "Now, just move and make me move." Ben E. King's heart and soul infused the room. "No I won't-be afraid. Oh, I won't be afraid—"

Carlton moved to the left, his arm jerkily pulling Karen with him. He cursed himself internally, wondering if someone else would be laughing at him tonight as well. "It's fine." His blue eyes widened at her husky voice. "You're doing fine. Just move me." No laughter, just…kindness. Warmth.

Again, a jerky step to the left. Then right. Carlton felt like an idiotic robot. They kept moving in that jerky cadence. Right, left, right, left. He began to relax. Not much, just a little. Okay, maybe a little more as Dunlap—no, Karen—moved with him. Carlton could smell a faint scent of lemon blossoms and roses and realized he was holding her close enough to pick up her perfume or body lotion, whatever it was that smelled so damn good. And she was soft. And small. His large scarecrow hands could fit around her slender waist and then some. And…she was a whiskey girl. With that husky voice and those golden hazel eyes, Carlton Lassiter knew instinctively that while Karen might drink a glass of wine or champagne occasionally, when she was thoughtful, angry, or hurt, she would reach for Irish whiskey.

"So darlin' darling/ stand by me…" He almost jumped to high heaven as he felt a gentle touch lifting his chin. "Don't look down." A wry smile graced her absolutely lovely face and Carlton suddenly had a vision of what she would look like in darkness and cotton sheets. /No. Get that out of your mind moron. Can't be—she would never anyway—this is just-/ He bit his lip and tried to look down again. And again Karen lifted his chin. "You keep doing that and you'll trip over your own feet. You're doing fine, Carlton. Just relax."

And again Carlton found she would move where he did, that somehow she seemed to be closer, somehow his hand had dropped from her shoulder to his waist…and she didn't seem to mind at all. They began to move as he relaxed, moved in tandem…and it felt natural, liquid, soft and warm, almost like—the thought hit him with the force of a bomb and he stumbled knocking both of them into the bar.

Carlton inhaled sharply as his body pressed against hers, his arms locked around her waist as he pushed her against the bar. He looked down at Karen und-/NO! Not under! Asshat! You must be the clumsiest idiot on the planet!/ Carlton quickly released Karen and jumped back like a jackrabbit on crack. "Damn Karen! I am so, so sorry! I just-I'm so-"

"It's okay. You did fine." Her eyes again held that mischievous twinkle. "Until you looked down." The laughter was in her voice, and it was catching. Because Carlton instinctively knew Karen wasn't laughing at him, but at the situation. And he snickered. And it grew progressively louder. And somewhere he heard a husky, throaty laugh and again, his senses again heated up as he wondered how husky her voice sounded when she had just woken up. He knew there was a small but powerful contingent in the male locker room that would have killed to get the wry, sarcastic blonde with the great ass (which Carlton Lassiter fully acknowledged. He wasn't dead) in bed. He also knew it wouldn't be him. Karen Dunlap could probably snap her long, elegant fingers and have anyone, and yet here she was…no laughter, no pity, just sweet and kind and warm and…absolutely so, so lovely. Razor-sharp cheekbones like Hepburn, a mouth too wide for her face but oh-so-lush, and large dark gold eyes that made him feel like he was drowning in honey. The world was dime and hazy and he saw her face tilting up to his and he could feel his arms going around her waist, pulling curves and heat to him as Ben E. King sang on.

Lush, full lips brushed butterfly softness over his. And somehow, they were moving, and she was following his lead, but they weren't dancing even though his arms were pulling her soft curves against his long, lean lines.

"Whenever you're in trouble/ won't you stand by me-oh darlin', stand by me, stand by me.../ Slowly, Karen pulled away, her eyes widened in surprise, her mouth swollen and pink, and broke that weird spell of palpable heat, closeness, and rhythm-and /Oh God!/

Carlton pushed Karen away quickly, stepping back as if she was on fire. "God! I'm so-oh crap! Damn it! This-you and me-just no!" Something passed across her face and Carlton watched as her liquid eyes became dying embers and her face became a lovely, icy mask. /Aw, hell! I didn't me-/

"Yeah, well, I have to lock up, so you don't have to go home, but you're not staying here." She started to walk to the bar and it hit Carlton Lassiter that he could see the flush across her cheeks was different from her earlier one and he wanted to hit himself as his words came back up through his throat like vomit. He had to fix this. He had to. Because-well, because! "Karen! Look, Dunlap-it's not like that-"

She stepped back, holding her hands up in a stop gesture, perfectly controlled, perfectly in control. "Hey, it's okay. Whatever. We'll chalk it up to the music. I just need you to leave so I can lock up and maybe get to sleep sometime tonight." She turned to unlock the door and let him out and again, Carton had a weird-he'd say psychic vision if he believed in that crap-so, a weird epiphany that not settling this would be the worst mistake he ever made. Maybe he would work for her someday. /Like the SBPD would ever have a female chief, but still.../ Karen had been kind and funny, and warm-oh so warm, and something-no, can't happen. For either of them. But, Carlton realized, not because he didn't want to, but because for her sake, it couldn't.

"Listen to me!" His voice was angrier than he intended. Her beautiful whiskey eyes narrowed. "You need to leave."

"Would you shut the hell up and listen to me?" He grabbed her arm, determined to make her listen and hope she didn't cold-cock him in the process. "Karen, it's not that I do-" She smirked and it was like ice. "Hey, it's okay. I get it. I hear what the guys say about me, that I'm a frigid bitch, that I'm NOTHING like LIbby Dal-"

"No damn it! Shut up for Chrissakes! You're right! You're nothing like her and you damn well aren't a frigid bitch! You're smart, you don't put up with crap, especially from guys who-well, the crap in the locker room, and you're tough and-"

Well, her eyes were widening and she was stepping back like she thought he was a wackaloon, so he might as well go for the gold. "And you're…." the only word he knew fit her, "just so damn lovely and…pretty. And too damn smart to stay in a uniform for the rest of your life and it's not fair, but we both know your name would get dragged through every type of locker room mud, even if it's just me. You know it would Karen. And being a chief of police? You deserve that chance someday Karen."

Carlton waited for her to tell him to get his crazy ass self gone, cringed knowing the whole station would know what an ass he had been, because really, he had probably just scared the everliving hell out of her. /Scared off a good one, Lassiter. Way to go./ Still, he knew he was right. Her getting involved with ANY male of the notorious boys' club of SBPD, even kissing a schmuck like him, would shoot her in the foot though. Not that her mouth hadn't felt good on his, and her body against…NO! She was staring at him. Carlton hung his head, knowing he had had at least not totally repulsed her earlier in the evening. "Alright, I'm going."

"Carlton-" He looked down and saw that small, elegant hand on his arm. Blue eyes locked on her lovely, lovely face that seemed perfectly suited to darkness and haze. And those eyes, like rich, dark honey whiskey. That lush, beautiful mouth was curved in a gentle smile and he felt that same searing arousal from her touch. Damn, he wished he wasn't right. "Thanks. And-yeah." He almost swore he saw regret in her beautiful eyes.

He smiled. "See you 'round, Karen." She pushed blonde hair out of her eyes. "See you 'round." He suddenly realized how much smaller she was than him as she stood on her tiptoes. He closed his eyes and sighed as her lips ghosted across his cheek and just barely brushed over his mouth and shivered at the coldness that was left there when she pulled back. Her dark eyes were unreadable.

Carlton nodded and started to walk out. He stopped, remembering his weird though on the future. "Hey, if we're…ever both chiefs-in like, twenty years from now, save me a dance and all bets are off, okay?" But that was never going to happen. And it didn't matter, because her smile was like a fallen angels. "Okay. Night."