Uggh! I really struggled with this chapter. Hopefully it flows okay and you find it meaningful... A special thanks to kennedybrideau & jamiewaskel for their lovely reviews.

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She honestly can't believe he's here as she never planned on taking him.

She'd woken up Friday morning with a lightness, (dare she say, happiness?) that she hadn't felt in months, adrenaline seeping through her veins at the prospect of finally meeting the one man who had made a difference in her life.

She found herself humming quietly while she got dressed, - donning baggy clothes, blond wig and librarian glasses, - her disguise whenever she left her apartment.

Damn relentless press.

It was hard to believe that three months after the incident, she was still newsworthy.

She didn't feel safe, didn't truly feel like herself, without also carrying her personal piece. Thank God, Captain Montgomery didn't know about her Smith and Wesson or it would've been confiscated as well.

After putting her gun in the back of her faded jeans and placing the Mets Baseball cap on the wig, she'd briefly glanced in the mirror and smirked, pleased with herself, because with this get-up, devoid of makeup, she barely resembled Detective Kate Beckett.

She tucked the last Derek Storm novel her mother had bought of his under her arm and with a swing in her step, left her apartment for The Forbidden Planet bookstore. She planned on taking the book to the cemetery afterwards and propping it against Johanna's headstone, - a gift to her mom, a token of apology and remorse for not finding her killer after all this time.

She stood in line behind several other fans, occasionally peeking past them to glance at the author. It was easy to see that the man cared about his appearance, wearing an expensive tailored suit that hugged his assets nicely. Her eyes roved over his handsome face, the perfectly-styled hair, the bushy eyebrows, broad nose, the full lips that fell easily into a generous smile, but it was his eyes that simply captivated her… Bluer than a cloudless sky, more beautiful than the first day of spring and she thought she wouldn't mind seeing those eyes on a regular basis.

The first time she heard his deep, boisterous laughter, something happened that she didn't expect… A tremor coursed through her, made her shiver in awareness of him, and by the time she stood in front of him, engulfed by his blatant masculinity, she was a bit, umm, unsettled.

Her eyes skittered away from him as she nervously slid the Derrick Storm novel across the table.

"Make it out to Ka - . No, Jo please," hoping she didn't sound as flustered as she felt… At least she didn't believe he'd throw her into the category of, 'love-struck fan'.

She pulled and nibbled on her lower lip anxiously… His eyes were immediately drawn to the action and her heart fluttered out-of-control at the intensity of his gaze.

With an utterly engaging smile he teased, "Kay-Jo. Such an interesting, unique nickname. Quite pretty... May I ask how you got it?"

Hell, she didn't want him asking personal questions. She shifted from one foot to the other, avoiding eye contact.

"Nothing. It means nothing. Sorry. I meant to say, Johanna. Make it out to Johanna please."

Well, at least he'll never guess that I'm a Detective with that lame-brain answer.

Her eyes quickly assessed her surroundings. She glanced at the Exit door, calculating how many steps it would take to reach it. She noticed the security guard standing off to Castle's right side, hovering, having the ability in seconds to reach him, to stop an obsessed fan if necessary.

After scanning the area, her eyes found his, - piercing, utterly beautiful.

As she felt herself falling into those never-ending depths, an underlying fear that he would recognize her from one of the many news articles pricked at her senses.

His gaze deepened, studying her features, trying to read her body language and as his eyes raked over her, an unexpected warmth traveled up through the soles of her feet to the tip of her head.

He broke the spell.

Reluctantly, it seemed, as he opened up the book to the title page and then paused…

She stopped breathing as the permanent marker landed on the page. She tried to follow what he was writing, but couldn't quite decipher it so waited patiently for him to finish.

As he handed her back the book, his fingertips skimmed hers. They were undeniably soft for a man's touch, especially since she expected them to be calloused due to his profession.

She noticed his eyes widening in surprise at the contact.

"I meant what I wrote," he said sincerely, his eyes never leaving her unadorned face.

One of his ex-wives rushed up then and tapped her Rolex impatiently saying there was one more hour left and she needed him to only autograph books instead of personalizing them so he could see as many fans as possible.

She turned back to the author with a shy smile, breathing gratefully, "Thank you, Castle."

She clutched her Mom's book to her heart and turned away from him, wishing she dared to look behind her, take one last look at him, - longing to imprint him forever on her mind, but she didn't dare take the chance.

She stood a little taller and sexily swayed her hips as she felt his eyes on her retreating form.

She threw the security guard a beaming smile because her 'Detective sense' was never wrong… She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Richard Edgar Castle was checking her out.

….

She sat in her car a moment, trying to catch her breath as Gawd, she'd just met thee Richard Castle and the man was simply magnetic. He was the type of person whom people were instinctively drawn to… In one word, - impressive, - exuding a sexy confidence with those pure azure eyes that seemed to look past the disguise and all the way into her heart.

She couldn't help but be enthralled by his aura of 'genuineness'. He seemed real, which completely took her by surprise. She'd expected him to be cocky, suave, even a bit goofy, but he'd been almost the complete opposite, - attentive, utterly focused on her, making her feel like she was the only woman in the room.

She opened the book with slightly trembling fingers, eager to read the author's inscription:

To Johanna, a truly lovely name which means 'God is gracious'.

The Man upstairs and I have one thing in common. We both hope that all your dreams come true, in the printed word as well as reality. Don't be afraid to reach for your dreams, Jo.

It was as if he looked right into her soul and knew exactly what she needed to hear...

Don't be afraid to reach for your dreams, and the author himself just happened to be her last one.

She doesn't think she would've ever considered kidnapping him if she hadn't of found her friend's Physician bag on the floor of her car. She'd picked up Lanie from work the night before so the two of them could have a girls-night-out and the bubbly M.E. had accidentally forgotten her medical bag.

Her life was already so fucked up with hitting road block after road block into her mother's case, her father falling off the wagon again, the pending 'Wrongful Death' suit against her, the suspension from the force, the IA investigation, as well as the mandated sessions with Dr. Burke.

Seriously, what was one more thing?

She tamped down the cop in her screaming about kidnapping being a federal offense and she could very well be throwing her career / life away, and determined if she found a sedative in Lanie's bag, that it was a sure sign she should embrace her dream and take the one man who'd been her life preserver during these last nine, hellish years.

His words alone had pushed her forward when she encountered stumbling blocks and dead ends, discouragement overwhelming her. His books had made her believe that she could find justice for her mother as well as hopefully, one day, peace for herself.

His words had literally saved her.

Him.

And just maybe, if he went to the police and reported the kidnapping after she let him go, he'd be a witness for the defense, justifying her 'insanity plea' if her own case ended up going to trial.

She knew a little about anaesthetics due to the required medical course while in the academy and sure enough, she came across Propofol in Lanie's bag as well as a syringe.

She didn't have to wait long for the author. She'd hidden in the shadows of the parking garage, standing in a corner near the door he'd have to pass through, and couldn't believe her luck when no one else happened to be in the area. She'd tailed him to his car, admired his ass encased in the Zanella slacks, and once he'd unlocked his Escalade and sat in the front seat, it had been easy to insert the needle and render him unconscious…

And now, she's living a dream, - waking up curled into Richard Castle's gloriously nude body.

She can't believe how much he's surprised her, - his acceptance of the situation, like it's more an adventure than actual captivity, - his little-boy charm, his inquisitive mind, his instinctive need to comfort her, (which she refuses to ponder) and his extremely unselfish nature in bed.

She can't believe he asked (NO, it was more like begged) her to stay the evening with him, sleep next to him all night long.

He's next to her, all baby fine hair and muscular form. She's inhaling his sexy scent, - a hint of antique wood and some expensive cologne she can't identify.

He's still sound asleep, lying on his back, and her body is curled into him, her head lying on his shoulder, right leg thrown over his thigh, her arm slung low over his hip bone.

She studies his features, - the oil-black eyelashes, the heavy line between his eyebrows, (which she has to resist touching) the small lines fanning out at his eyes, the aristocratic nose with tiny freckles smattered across the bridge, the full kissable lips, the strong jaw, the irresistible stubble smattered across his face.

He is in one word, - gorgeous.

And by God, her insides quiver with firsthand knowledge that the tabloids haven't exaggerated his expertise, - the man certainly knows how to please a woman.

It's way beyond that, her conscience prods her, he knows how to make you feel like the BEST damn lay of his life... She immediately represses the thought, refusing to dwell on it.

She's been postponing the inevitable, - changing the subject when he asks personal questions, easily deflecting them, - knowing that he deserves some answers, will NOT rest until he gets some, but ... she's afraid.

Afraid that he'll only see her as half-a-person, irrevocably damaged due to her obsession with finding her mother's killer.

Afraid that he'll notice she's hiding behind a wall of bricks, stone and debris 10 feet high and that it's just not worth the effort to try and climb over to reach her.

Afraid that once he knows her story, the appeal will be gone and he'll lose interest in her.

Last night as they'd fucked (her heart tries to insist that they made love) he'd looked at her as if she was the most stunning, fascinating, extraordinary woman he'd ever met and she'd felt as valued as a Rembrandt or Van Gogh painting, - treasured , priceless.

Shit, I'm falling for the notorious Playboy, Richard Castle.

Another fear alighted and landed heavily on her heart...

Now that she's had a taste of Richard Edgar Castle, no man will measure up again.

No man will ever compare to him.