A/N: Sorry for the delay in writing this. I got hit with a new fic idea so I'm now writing 2 fics at the same time. I hope I don't get em confused with each other. If Dominika turns into a 60 year old...something's not right and you have my permission to slap some sense into me :D I also want to thank Brighid45 for her help with this fic. I need someone to bounce ideas off of and she happened to be there when I was bashing my head against the desk.

My doc tells me the bruises are healing nicely :D

Anyway, read on :)

Chapter Four

House and Dominika walked on eggshells around each other for the next few days but eventually fell back into their usual routines. Another month went by without incident and they had a companionship that was friendly but still strictly platonic.

Dominika resigned herself to the fact that a romance between the two of them wasn't in the cards. She wasn't happy about it, and she didn't understand why he didn't desire her anymore. He certainly seemed to in the beginning. And then at the fair there had been the kisses, he seemed to take pride in calling her his 'wife' even though she wasn't in the way it counted.

But damn if she didn't wish it did. With that very first kiss they shared on their wedding night, she felt a connection and she thought he did too. But he pushed her away.

Then there was the fair when he kissed her and then…nothing since. Well, she'd just have to try harder. She knew he liked her. The way he looked at her spoke volumes. Greg was a man of many faces, but she was good at reading people and she knew when a man was genuinely interested in her, even if he tried to hide it.

Maybe he was still hurting from his former relationship. Dr. Cuddy didn't seem nearly as evil as Greg made her out to be, but she couldn't understand why he was so cruel to her. She hoped she'd never have to be on the receiving end of his anger. If he was as ruthless to her as he was to Cuddy, she didn't know what she'd do.

But so far he'd been nothing but nice to her. Well, as nice as Greg House can be.

She then decided she would try to win him over.

With food.

The man loved to eat, and seemed to be insatiable. He liked her cooking, if his second and third helpings were any indication, so she figured that was a good place to start. Besides, everyone says the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. And since Greg's was a bottomless pit, she had her work cut out for her.

X X X

It occurred to Dominika that she didn't know what House's favorite meals were. For that she'd need to do some recon. So when House brought her to work with him, she went looking for Wilson.

"You want to know what? Why?"

She shrugged, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. "I know he likes to eat, but what does he like?"

"Dominika, House is a pure carnivore. Put some kind of meat dish in front of him and he'll be happy. Maybe try some more traditional dinners. Roast beef, stew, chili…throw in some mashed potatoes…"

She took it into consideration and nodded. "Is there anything Greg doesn't like?"

Wilson blinked, not used to hearing anyone refer to his friend by his first name of all things.

"Pickles."

Dominika's eyes widened. "Pickles are good!"

"I know that. Try to convince House of that."

She smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Wilson. You are very nice man to be helping me like this. Come over for dinner one night?"

He nodded and gave her a smile. "Sure."

"Good."

And with that, she was gone, and Wilson shook his head in wonder.

X X X

After four nights of being fed like a king, House was curious as to what Dominika was up to. It wasn't as if she didn't cook for him all the time because she did, but she was cooking his favorite things, not her usual fare.

As they sat on the couch watching TV, the phone rang but they ignored it. It rang again twenty minutes later and Dominika was in the bathroom so House answered it. When she came back out, he was just ending the call.

"Who was that? I heard telephone ringing."

"That was Richard," House said, the name dripping off his tongue with dislike. He saw a flash of something cross her face that looked like panic, but it was gone in an instant. "So?"

"So…what?" she asked as she resumed her spot on the couch.

"Who's Richard and why is he calling my land line?"

"He did the money part for my knish business. He's an accountant."

"Is he the one you skipped off to Atlantic City with after we were married?"

She nodded and didn't say anything else but he kept at it. He wanted to know why she was so uneasy.

"Are you going to call him back?"

"Tomorrow. It's late and I'm going to bed now." She stretched luxuriously and he admired the way her shirt lifted up to expose her smooth, and very flat stomach. He actually had to resist the urge to touch her. Going to bed wasn't going to help either. Somehow, she always managed to end up sleeping curled up next to him when he woke up in the middle of the night. And he was too tired to move her, nor did he want to because she kept him warm and her warm body against his bad leg was soothing.

He woke up the next morning to the familiar, and very welcome, smells of coffee and breakfast. Usually he lingered in bed, but his stomach was telling him to eat so he dragged himself out of bed and went to the kitchen. Dominika was just hanging up the phone and she jumped when he reached around her for the coffee machine.

"Jumpy this morning, aren't we?"

"You're not usually up so early," she said.

"I smelled coffee and food."

After she fixed him a plate of bacon and eggs, she set about tidying up. "I'm going to Atlantic City for the weekend. I'll be gone four days."

House looked up. She was leaning against the counter, fidgeting. "And?"

"And…that is all."

"How are you getting there?"

"I'm taking a bus. It leaves in an hour."

"Make sure you leave a number where I can reach you."

She frowned. "Why would you need to reach me?"

He shrugged. "Then don't leave a number. Whatever. Sorry if I made it look like I cared!" he grabbed his coffee mug and took it with him down the hall to the bedroom where he undressed and hopped in the shower.

She was gone when he came out.

X X X

"Gonna watch the game on Sunday?" Wilson inquired as they played Foosball in the staff lounge.

"Yeah. Come over if you want. Bring beer."

"Sure. Is Dominika gonna make those awesome Knishes again?"

"Nope. She's gone," House replied as he scored another goal when Wilson looked up in surprise.

"What do you mean, gone?"

"She's in Atlantic City. Something to do with her business."

"Oh. When's she back?"

"Monday."

"Won't the INS think it odd that she's gone off by herself?"

"She's a grown woman. She can do what she wants."

"Just like that, huh?"

House glared at Wilson but kept playing. When he scored for the last time, he grabbed his cane and limped away. "Quittin' time. See ya Sunday. Don't forget the beer."

X X X

Wilson was shocked at the state of House's apartment. In short, it was a mess, as if a tornado had gone through it.

"Jesus House…what the hell?"

"What?"

Wilson tossed a Tshirt aside and sat down on the couch. "Planning to leave this mess for Dominika when she comes back? I'm sure she'll love coming back to this."

"She knew what she was getting when she bought the package. And that's not a euphemism."

"Just admit it, already."

"Admit what?" House asked as he took a beer for Wilson and himself then put the rest of the twelve pack in the fridge.

"You miss her."

"She's only been gone three days."

"Yeah, and you're worried sick about her being in Atlantic City with that guy…what's his name."

"Richard."

Wilson looked at him and laughed. "You're jealous."

"Am not."

"You are. And you miss her even more."

"You've tasted her cooking. How could I not?"

"You don't just miss her cooking. You miss her."

"What's your point?"

"Tell her. Tell her this marriage isn't a sham anymore. Tell her you like her. You've been on dates, go on more."

"Those were for INS's benefit," House pointed out as he finished guzzling his beer.

"And what would they say if they knew she was in Atlantic City without you?"

"I had a case. Besides, didn't we go through this already? I don't care what they'll say. Like I said before, she's not my slave, and I'm not her master. I wouldn't presume to tell her what to do."

"But you do like her…right?"

When House didn't answer, Wilson looked smug. He'd won that round.