DISCLAIMER: None of these wonderful characters are mine. I'm just a fangirl stealing them for my own nefarious purposes. :-D

Chapter Four

Beguiled in B Minor

It was just shy of 10:00 p.m. when Betty finally tossed her pen across the office with a frustrated grunt, watching as it bounced harmlessly off the wall and rolled across the floor to vanish beneath the desk. Daniel glanced up from the rough layouts he was perusing, one eyebrow raised.

"You'd better not be defacing company property," he said with a smirk.

"Oh come on, you want to throw stuff too," Betty argued, sliding out of her chair and onto the floor to retrieve her pen. "It's not like it left a mark."

For the past week they'd been scrambling to throw together an entirely new theme for next month's Player because, at the last minute, they'd discovered that good old Wilhelmina had swiped their "legal" theme (though in Player's case, it was more like "barely legal") and used it for Mode's September issue. So far, all of their ideas had been total crap.

"You can head home if you--" Daniel began.

"Don't even start," Betty cut him off with a wave of her hand. "There are still two hours till midnight. The night is young."

"I'm just saying I can handle myself if you need to head home," he said.

"Now what kind of assistant would I be if I did that?" Betty asked. Unable to muster the energy to get back into her chair, she remained sprawled on the floor and reached up to pull a week-old memo off the desktop.

"A reasonable one with well-drawn personal boundaries?" Daniel offered with a cheeky grin. The memo in Betty's hands became a crumpled missile launching towards the center of Daniel's forehead.

"Ow."

"Serves you right," she said primly, reaching for another sheet of paper. "I do so have personal boundaries."

"Says the girl hanging out with her boss on a Friday night," he quipped, expertly ducking the second crumpled ball that rocketed towards his head. Betty glared up at him from her position on the floor.

"You know, if you keep throwing stuff I'll be forced to have HR enroll you in anger management."

"Fine," she said. "If you want me to go home, I'll go home."

She stood and began sweeping the ocean of paper from the desk into her bag while Daniel watched, flabbergasted.

"What are you…?"

"Well, since you seem so keen on sending me home, I figured I'll oblige you," she said.

"OK..." he said.

"But there's a catch."

There always was with Betty.

"Yes…?" Daniel asked warily.

"You're coming with me."

"That kind of defeats the whole 'personal boundaries' thing, you know," he pointed out, but there was a grin on his face that could only have existed after fourteen straight hours of work. He was already getting out of his chair to help her pack up their files.

"Well, you haven't seen the place since I got all the furniture set up the way I want it," she said. "And you almost died getting some of that stuff up the stairs, so I figure you deserve to see it in action. Besides, I'm sick of your office."

"Me too," Daniel agreed. "And I'll make it up to you."

"Huh?" Betty blinked, pausing in the act of shoving the last of the proofs into a briefcase. "Make what up to me?"

"Stealing your Friday night," he grinned.

"Oh, well, you know me," she said. "I had a million different parties I could have gone to tonight and all, but…"

"Will Chinese food do the trick?"

"Just about," she said. "Let's get out of here." She tucked the briefcase of layout ideas under her arm and headed for the door, Daniel close on her heels.

"Wait!" she said suddenly, turning back towards him so quickly that he strode right into her with a solid thud. The only reason she didn't topple backwards was because Daniel thought quickly enough to grab her arm and hold her firmly upright.

"Jeez, warn me next time you're going to do that," he laughed. "I don't want you winding up in the emergency room. We've got a deadline."

"Why yes, Daniel, I'm fine. Thanks for your concern," Betty rolled her eyes and teasingly patted his hand on her arm. There was a grand total of about an inch between them, and the skin on Betty's arm was unexpectedly warm and soft under his fingers. Daniel's heart gave an odd little skip.

He shook his head. Yikes. The endless hours of work must really be getting to him.

He needed to get some caffeine, stat.

For a long moment Betty stayed right where she was, her mouth inexplicably dry. There it had been again; that weird look in his eyes that almost made her think he had something other than work on his mind. Which was, of course, ridiculous. Because this was Daniel she was talking about. He was just exhausted.

She needed to get him some caffeine, stat.

"…Betty?"

Startled out of her reverie, Betty found herself gazing into a pair of very confused, very tired, very blue eyes. Whoops, how long had she been staring up at him like that? Self-consciously chewing on her bottom lip, she stepped back.

Slowly, Daniel's hand dropped from her arm.

"So… what were you going to say?" he asked after an eternity had passed.

"Wha…?" Betty stared at him, perplexed.

"Well, you turned and shouted 'Wait!' so fast I almost killed you," he reminded her. "I assume it was something important?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, turning tomato red. "Right. I was just going to ask if you could maybe give me a fifteen minute head start? We've been working late all week and I haven't exactly had time to tidy up…"

"I really don't care how clean it is," he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "C'mon, Betty, you've seen my place at its worst."

"Yeah," she acknowledged with a little smile. "But that's different. Please?"

"OK, sure," he said. "I'll stop and grab some takeout and meet you there in a few?"

"Sounds great!" she said, flashing her metallic grin. She reached out and gave his hand a friendly little squeeze, and the room was suddenly several degrees warmer. "Give me a call if the main door's locked so I can let you in. Not that it's ever locked."

She crinkled her nose in annoyance, but the sentiment passed as quickly as it had come.

"I'll see you in a bit!" she said cheerfully, then turned and scurried towards the elevators.

Daniel watched after her until she had vanished behind the silver sliding doors, finding it suddenly difficult to manage coherent thought through all the fluff in his brain. All he seemed to be able to process was that Betty had spent a solid minute staring straight into his eyes at close range. That ought to be illegal.

…what was he supposed to be doing?

Oh, right. Takeout.

And coffee. A hell of a lot of coffee.

.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.

Betty's phone sang "La Cucaracha" at an obscene volume as she started up the stairs in her apartment complex. After a moment of fumbling in her massive bag, she fished out her cell and checked the Caller ID.

"Hi, Christina."

"Good Lord, love, you're all out o' breath!" Christina's voice exclaimed. "I'm not interruptin' something sordid, am I?"

"Um, no," Betty laughed. "I'm heading up to my apartment."

"Damn," Christina sighed, but after a moment her voice brightened up again. "Ooh, does that mean Daniel's released his hold on ye for the night? Because there's this new club down on Columbus Avenue that I--"

"Wait, wait, don't get too excited," Betty interrupted. "We've still got a ton of work to do. We're going to do it at my apartment."

"Do it--?"

"Shut up," Betty said quickly, her cheeks growing hot. "You know what I mean."

"Oh, I don't know if I do," Christina teased. "Can't say I blame ye. I think those eyes could make a hunk o' rock orgasmic." Betty squeaked and shook her head, trying--unsuccessfully--to dispel that image from her mind.

"Ew," she said. "He's my boss. Quit it before you completely weird me out."

"I'm only makin' an observation," Christina said. "It's a wee bit hard not to notice you two are practically soldered at the hip these days."

"It's been really hectic at Player," Betty protested, emerging onto the seventh floor. She was slowly getting used to the daily hike home. By this time next month, maybe she could do it without fear of going into cardiac arrest.

"Oh, I know," Christina said sagely. "Lot's o' late nights required, eh?"

"Shut up," Betty muttered, fishing for her keys. "Daniel definitely doesn't think about me like that. And I don't think of him like that, either. End of story."

"All right, all right," Christina said. "So how's that musician bloke across the way, then?"

"Christina…!"

"What? I'm not allowed to talk about him either?" The sulk was audible in her friend's voice. "Didn't you say he was hot?"

"Well yeah, he is, but--"

"Betty?" A familiar voice stopped her mid-sentence. Keys halfway to the lock, Betty spun around and found herself facing said hot musician, standing just a foot away from her and smiling a smile that ought to be registered as a deadly weapon.

"Igottagobye!" she blurted, hanging up and shoving the phone deep into her purse before Christina had a chance to object. Instinctively, she ran a hand over her wild hair. "Uhh… hey, Jesse. What's up?"

She cringed at how embarrassingly high-pitched her voice sounded. When she'd told Christina that her new neighbor was majorly hot, it had been anything but an understatement. Betty had never been one to go for "bad boys"--seriously, one look at Henry and Walter would have made that abundantly clear--but something about Jesse made her reconsider that little fact.

"You OK?" he asked, looking more amused than concerned. "You're all red."

"What?" Betty stammered. "No. I mean yes. Just winded from walking up the-- Did you want something?"

Damn her inability to form coherent sentences.

"Yeah," he said. "Do you have rats?"

"…rats?" Betty repeated, unable to force her brain to process this.

"Y'know, in your apartment?" he said.

"Oh!" she blushed even darker. "Uh, yeah, actually. One. We set her free. Well, Daniel did. She had babies to take care of." She was rambling and she knew it, but she couldn't seem to stop herself.

"Damn it," he muttered. "I thought it looked like something was chewing on my cereal boxes. You mind calling the manager to get rid of them? He hates me."

"Yeah. Yeah, OK," Betty said, a little too brightly.

"Sweet. Thanks," Jesse lifted a hand to muss his gelled hair and the sleeve of his t-shirt pulled back to reveal the tip of his dragon tattoo's tail.

Betty had never liked tattoos. In fact, she hated tattoos.

"I like your dragon," she blurted. "Did it hurt?"

Something in Jesse's eyes sparkled, and he grinned at her.

"Like getting sliced with an exacto knife," he said pleasantly. "I'm thinking of getting another one."

"Wow," Betty managed. Jesse moved in until she forgot how to breathe.

"Right here," he said, holding out his other arm. Gently, he took one of her hands in his and traced her fingertips over his wrist as he described the design. "It's gonna be a guitar, with some of my lyrics all swirly around it."

Betty could feel his warm pulse beneath her fingertips. She began to giggle uncontrollably, though she wasn't entirely sure why.

"You write your own songs?" she asked.

"Music and lyrics," he agreed, glancing back towards his still-open apartment door. "Wanna hear?"

"Sure!" Betty exclaimed eagerly. Then she remembered why she was coming back to her apartment in the first place. Work. Daniel. Quickly, she backtracked. "I mean no. Not right now. I've got company coming in a minute."

"Hmm, that's too bad," he said with a little sigh. "Maybe another time."

"Yeah," Betty agreed, thoroughly addled by his proximity. If he'd only step back a little then maybe she'd be able to think a bit more clearly.

Then he started to hum. A song she'd never heard before.

"Is that something you wrote?" she asked.

"Just coming up with it as I go," he grinned. "Maybe I'll turn it into something. I could write some lyrics for you."

It was a line, she knew it. He'd probably pulled this same trick on dozens of girls before her. Maybe even with the same "improvised" melody every time.

But she was a goner, all the same.

"Yeah," she managed. "I'd like that."

God, he had gorgeous eyelashes. Women would have committed murder to have lashes like that; it just wasn't fair that they belonged to a man. But they did look awfully nice there. His deep hazel eyes weren't too shabby either, though she fleetingly thought that she would prefer it if they were blue…

Someone cleared his throat loudly. Betty jerked away from Jesse instinctively as she looked towards the source of the sound.

Daniel stood at the end of the hallway, a bag of Chinese takeout in one hand and a latte in the other, sending Jesse a look that could have melted stone. Jesse, however, seemed completely unperturbed by this turn of events. In fact, he smiled at Daniel in a downright friendly manner.

"Oh, your boyfriend's here," he said pleasantly. That snapped Betty out of her stupor.

"He's not my boyfriend," she said, a little too quickly. Those words roused Daniel to action. He strode down the hall and not-so-subtly placed himself between them.

"We have a lot of work to do," he said, his voice like ice.

"Sure, sure," Jesse grinned. "Have fun." He winked at Betty and her heart fluttered like she was an addled tween again. Then she felt Daniel's firm grasp on her arm as he practically dragged her through the door and into her apartment. The door banged shut behind them.

"What the hell was that?" he exploded before he'd had the time to think. The sight of that sketchy musician leaning in on Betty had him seeing red; it was all he could do not to storm right back out there and give the guy some nice scars to go with that tattoo.

"What the hell was what?" Betty asked, taken off guard by the ferocity she could plainly see in his face.

"That," he gestured angrily towards the door.

"That is Jesse," she said, wondering what was going on. "He's my neighbor."

"I don't like him," Daniel said.

Betty blinked, confused.

"Have you even met him?" she asked.

"Sure," Daniel said. "Once. He's an idiot."

"Okaaay…" Betty said slowly, hoping that by keeping a level tone she could calm the man in front of her into a more reasonable state. "Why, exactly?"

That caught him unawares. He hadn't expected to be asked for reasons. What kind of person asked for reasons? Not that he didn't have reasons. Oh, he had plenty of reasons to think this Jesse character was a complete and utter tool.

"Well," he hesitated. "He's got that stupid earring. And that tattoo."

"Uh-huh," Betty said. "Anything else?"

Damn it. Daniel stared at her helplessly.

"Stay away from him," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"Betty, he's a bad guy," he insisted, his voice tinged with desperation.

"Daniel," Betty sighed. "He was just asking about the rats."

Daniel scoffed. Asking about the rats, his ass. If there hadn't been rats, he would have needed to use her phone. Or borrow a CD. Or would have supposedly found some lost item of hers that he'd actually stolen himself. It was exactly the sort of approach Daniel had used on attractive women in his own building in the past.

"He just wants to get you in bed," he snapped. There. He'd said it. But instead of making Betty see reason, it made her eyes narrow.

"I'm not exactly 'easy,' Daniel," she said. "I was just talking to him! He's not even my type."

"Why were you so eager to tell him I'm not your boyfriend, then?" he demanded, knowing even as the words left his mouth that it was one of the stupidest things he'd ever said. Betty stared at him like he was a retarded monkey.

"Because you're not!" she cried. Inexplicably, her words stung. He took a deep breath and slowly let this fact sink in. It was the truth. Why the hell was he getting so upset about something this simple? If she wanted to jump into bed with the musician across the hall, that was her business, right?

He was being a real jackass, wasn't he? And, judging from the way Betty was looking at him, she more than agreed with him. Something in his chest twisted painfully.

"God, Betty, I'm sorry. I just…" he floundered, taking an uncertain step towards her. "…I'm sorry."

"I know," she sighed.

She stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. Relieved, Daniel rested his chin against the top of her head.

What had come over him? What she did or didn't do with that Jesse guy was none of his business. Who cared if it made him feel sick to his stomach? Because it shouldn't make him feel sick to his stomach. Just like it shouldn't bother him that Betty had been so quick to point out that Daniel was not her boyfriend.

But that was the problem. The real reason he'd gotten so upset in the first place.

It did bother him.

And there were too many implications that went along with that, none of which he particularly wanted to consider right now. He would have been perfectly happy to completely forget the entire Jesse incident had even happened and go on with their lives exactly as before.

But then Betty pulled away from his embrace and the flowery scent of her shampoo made his knees go weak.

And he realized he was in trouble.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey guys! So sorry that it's been such a long time. Maybe starting up a new fic right when I was about to make a huge move wasn't the best plan. Haha. But now I'm all settled in to my new abode and I ought to have a bit of free time on my hands coming up, so hopefully I'll be able to update more quickly. Thanks to everyone who's been putting up with my erratic updating; I appreciate all your reviews so, so, so much! They really are an awesome self-esteem boost and a brilliant motivator to deliver more chapters. :-D