A/N: Apologies all around the room. Sorry for the insanely long wait. I've been soooo tired these past two weeks.

September 17 – I turned 19. Yay for my birthday! September 15 and 16 – I was at the beach (Puerto Galera) for a class field trip. And September 22-23 – back to the beach (Anilao this time) for the annual Beach Clean-Up. I did some scuba diving, so that's all good haha.

I hope you all are still with me. And I'm afraid there is a bit here in this 6-page chapter that is somewhat OOC. But I hope you see that Mac is capable of doing such stuff and I hope you like it.

Thanks!

hr

I'm not running from

No, I think you got me all wrong

I don't regret this life I chose for me

What was I getting myself in to? The two weeks after Mac arrived from London, I took him up on his offer of dinner. Only, it wasn't anymore about a 'thank you' for a 'job well done'. Heck, I knew it wasn't long since he brought it up over the phone. I couldn't quite put my finger on what that was though.

That afternoon in his apartment was awkward and uplifting at the same time. He pretty much did everything except say that he had feelings for me. His actions spoke for themselves. There was an unfamiliar but not unwelcome warmth in him. He sounded so… I don't know – so sure. I must admit it made me uncomfortable. I wasn't used being on the receiving end of his 'romantic' affections.

He didn't kiss me. Just cupped my cheek and caressed. I guess that was a hint that we were going to take it slow. His forwardness shocked me enough; I don't think I can handle more for the time being. After all, he just broke up with Peyton.

At work, it was like nothing happened. Danny gladly gave the office back to Mac. "Now I know what 'pain in the ass' really means," he said dumping a stack of paperwork on the 'out' pile. I transitioned back to my old office that I shared with Lindsey and Danny but I left some pictures in Mac's office. Per his request.

Like before, we rarely touch at work. Only when absolutely necessary. The difference now, I think, was his knowing smiles. He would say, "Great job, Stella," and his smile would mean something more than a work compliment. His hand would linger on the small of my back as he led me through a door or a hallway. Sometimes, a finger or two would sneak under the hem of my shirt and stroke my hip or back. I swatted him a couple of times when he did that. But it left my body tingling for the rest of the day.

I got my revenge from time to time. My fingers brushed against his when he handed me something or if our hands were on a table, I inched slowly closer so our pinkies would bump. He would smile while I try to keep a straight face. I was never the one to flirt and he wasn't either. We were never on pins and needles when the other was around but we managed to 'flirt' – if you want to call it that.

The most brazen Mac had ever been so far was attaching a big sunflower on the handle of my locker with the note, "You're beautiful," tied on one of the leaves. Lindsey and the man in question happened to walk into the locker room just when I turned beet red. It took me no time to decipher whose handwriting that was.

"A secret admirer, Stella," Lindsey asked trying to look over my shoulder. The sunflower head was almost as big as my face. "Oh my… you can give a rose a run for its money," she said upon seeing my blush.

"It's nothing really," I managed to chuckle embarrassingly. I couldn't talk straight because I was smiling too much. I couldn't believe that Mac Taylor was capable of doing that – leaving a flower and a note on my locker. How romantic.

"See you in Ballistics, Lindsey," Mac simply said.

Lindsey was still trying to sneak a peek at the small note, which I covered with the big leaf. "Wait, Mac… you're not asking who gave the flower to Stella?" she asked with an eyebrow up. "I mean, aren't you even curious?"

Mac looked at us – at me, with those knowing glares and said, "No. What she does in her own time is hers and none of my business. But… I am happy for you, Stella."

And he walked off, leaving Lindsey to say, "He's definitely curious. He just won't show it." She followed the man out of the room after getting her breath mints from her locker.

A few nights after that afternoon, over the phone I asked him iff we are to pursue something between us, should we think of what people would say? He told me that same line: What we do in our own time is ours and not anybody's business. His confidence was encouraging, leading me to confirm a time for our dinner appointment.

Dinner date actually. He told me to dress up. And after six blouse changes and four skirt switches, I finally settled on a red velvet cocktail dress. I didn't even know I had one until I emptied my closet onto my bed. I was sure that Mac never saw this dress before (plus I bought new shoes to match). He went through a lot to hide where we were going tonight so in turn, I was determined to knock his socks off.

He said he'd be picking me up at 7:30 p.m. "I won't be using my key," he said with a wink before we left work today. He also said that he wanted my hair down. I hoped he remembered my request regarding his dinner attire.

With two minutes to spare, my doorbell rang. I shakily walked to the door and, as my wont, peeked into the peephole. Oh, he forgot. I released all the locks and slowly opened the door a crack. "You're overdressed," I said, meeting his eyes and chuckling.

Damn, this man could dress. He traded his usual white long-sleeved striped shirt for a sleek blue one. I recognized his tie as his favorite one from about three years ago. His tailored jacket hung over his bent arm. "I have flowers," he said, showing me a bouquet of white lilies and bright yellow daisies. That made me smile so I opened the door wider for him to come in and see me.

I might not have gotten my desired wardrobe for him but I was sure as hell I got the reaction I was rooting for. As soon as I opened the door and got the flowers from his grasp, his jaw went slack and his eyes widened like saucers. I turned around to put the flowers in a vase when I heard a sigh. It kind of slipped from my mind that the back of my dress dips until my lower back. I had to purchase a stick-on bra just for this dress.

Mac looked like he was ready to salivate. His mouth was hanging open, eyeing me up and down shamelessly. I stood there in front of him suddenly bashful. I wrapped my arms around myself and hid my face behind my hair. "Stella…" he finally said, grasping my wrist and cupping my cheek, "You're very beautiful." I leaned in to his warm hand and smiled.

"Thank you, I try," I said, pulling him inside for a while.

"Oh you don't have to try for me, Stella," he replied, draping his coat over the back of my couch.

I knew that and I told him. "I just want to make the other men jealous of you," I joked, disappearing to my room to apply a light perfume. It was true. Because I was so sure that the other women will be jealous of me.

When I went back out, Mac was waiting there with my coat ready. He had put his on and he was looking plenty handsome. "Ready to go?" he asked with a shy smile, trying not to stare.

"One more thing," I said walking over to him. He rolled his eyes at this delay. I took my coat from him and proceeded to remove his tie and unfasten the top button of his shirt.

"Stella…" he said with a warning in his voice albeit the chuckling.

"What? You get your eyeful and I don't? So fair of you, Detective," I kidded. The silk tie was left on the armrest of the couch with the afghan I kept there for cold nights. "And besides, you just want me taking these things off of you."

I instantly blushed as soon as those words flew out of my mouth. Tactless, Stella. I looked down to our shoes and proceeded to chew my lip. My ears were burning and I wished the ground would just swallow me up. But instead, Mac lifted my chin and said, "It's okay, Stella." He leaned closer until our noses touched and whispered, "We'll get there."

He did not just say that!

The next thing I knew was I was bundled up in my coat and he was leading me out the door, customary hand on the small of my back. He was tracing lines and circles against the warm cloth of my coat. Hah, I guess he was wishing he was touching skin instead of fabric. The thought did nothing to calm me.

The car ride was short, thanks to the lack of traffic that night. The interior of the car smelled of his cologne. On the radio was an old jazz track, the singer's velvety voice setting the mood for the evening.

When we arrived at the place, Mac took my hand and led me into this nice first-class French bistro. It was a private restaurant – all its clients should have reservations. There was wall-to-wall carpeting; gold drapes framed the lace curtains, a polished grand piano sitting on an elevated platform right in the middle of the dining area. A man was playing 'Edelweiss' on it with violin accompaniment supplied by a well-dressed woman.

"Ah… Monsieur Taylor," the maître d' exclaimed in his heavy French accent. Wow, we hadn't even introduced ourselves yet. "Reservation for two, oui?" Mac nodded and the man ticked off something off the record book in his hand. The music stopped and half the room applauded. I took the liberty of scanning the room.

Majority of the tables were for two. Three or four were for a family or group of four. There was a single red candle on the middle of the round tables. The tablecloth on every table was a deep dark blue going down to the floor. A complementary bottle of champagne in a wine cooler was given to each couple. The lighting was subdued and pair that with the music, the mood was marvelous.

I was so flattered that Mac decided to take me here. All the while, I was holding his hand while he conversed with the maître d'. I looked at him and I hooked my arm onto his. I smiled at him and placed my head on his shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked, placing an errant strand of my hair behind my ear.

"A little bit overwhelmed," I admitted with a sigh. "But I'm happy. Thank you, Mac."

He lifted my face up and kissed my nose. And I actually giggled.

"Monsieur and Mademoiselle," the maître d' interrupted our little bubble, "Jacques here will show you to your table and attend to your orders." A blond young man, no older than twenty-five, bowed low and showed us the way.

It was near the back of the restaurant, away from prying eyes. Two other couples were there in the area. 'Jacques' helped us to the champagne and hors d'oeuvre, lighting the solitary candle. He then presented us with the menu. When he asked what we were getting, it turned out that he was from Long Island, New York and not France.

"My name is actually Jack but Monsieur Blanchard insisted on the French name," he explained with a shy smile. "I would recommend…" he then proceeded to introduce several dishes.

I glanced at Mac. He was looking at the menu with a serious look on his face. I stared at him, his face illuminated by the candlelight. "What?" he chuckled when he caught me.

"Order for me, Mac," I said, shutting the menu closed and smiling at him. He smiled and enumerated choice dishes worth three courses and dessert.

"You're going to stuff me full by the end of tonight," I joked, fingering the table napkin on my lap.

"No such thing, Stella," he joked, adding a salad to the list. "I've seen you gobble down three plates last NYPD dinner. One night of indulgence wouldn't hurt."

I laughed out loud. "Are you insinuating that I eat like a man?" we both laughed. Jack went away to attend to our orders.

"I wasn't," he answered after recovering from our laughter. "I was commenting on your excellent metabolism."

Oh that's lame. "I'll let you pass today, Mac. But say something like that again… I would…"

The thought wasn't finished because Monsieur Blanchard sidled over to our table with a bouquet of roses. "Ah Mademoiselle," he said with flair, "these flowers do not stand a chance against your beauty." Come. On. "Fifteen. Just like what Monsieur Taylor requested." And just like that, he glided away.

Mac was looking everywhere but to my direction. I was admiring the fresh roses placed on my lap. "Fifteen, Mac?" I asked, sniffing a bloom.

"One for…" he stammered. He was shy; I could tell. "One for…"

"One for every year we've known each other," I finished for him, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. "Thank you. This means a lot." His cheeks turned pink.

Dinner was a very fun time for the both of us. We've been working easy cases lately – leaving the more complicated ones to the others to work on as a team. I told him about what happened in the lab whilst he was away. It was refreshing to hear him laugh so much after what happened to him.

When we finished off our last course, silence enveloped us again. "So…" he sighed. For some reason, I was shy again. And so was he. I was a bit lightheaded after drinking most of the champagne (he had to drive me back to my place after all).

"So…" I mirrored, meeting his eyes.

"Do you want to dance?" he asked as I realized the piano was playing something familiar. He stood up and pulled my chair back so I could stand. He took my hand and led me to the dance floor. There were already two couples dancing.

I placed my hands behind his head and his rested on my hips. Slowly, we started to sway to the song. My Funny Valentine. I rested my head against the crook of his neck as I giggled, "You chose this song because of the 'Greek' part, didn't you?"

"Guilty as charged," his voice rumbled against my cheek. He felt very warm. His hands were struggling not to place themselves on my back. I started stroking his hair and nape, hoping that he'd get the message that it was okay.

And he did. Goosebumps erupted all over my body as his hand made first contact with the skin of my back.

I was pressed against him; his warmth was my warmth. "What are you doing to me?" he sighed, pulling me ever closer.

I should be asking him that question.

The song ended and the couples left the floor. But we stayed where we were, as we were. A new song began to play and new couples joined us. We swayed to 'Unchained Melody' (the restaurant had a steady supply of sappy love songs). I felt elated.

"Let's go?" he said after the first chorus. I nodded and led me back to our table. He called Jack and asked for our bill. He purposely kept it from my eyes. "I am paying, Stella," he chuckled when I tried to reach for the slip of paper. I slinked over to my side pouting. "You're so cute when you do that."

Let it be put on record that Mac Taylor has a romantic side. He's not the hard, uptight Detective Mac Taylor 100 of the time. I was honored that he showed this side of him to me.

hr

MJ – ayus lang. eto, baka OOC na. haha. Ayoko kasing straight to the smex agad eh. Walang thrill hahahahah… kaya yun – angst muna before anything else.

Serien – oh it's okay. :)

Cjfun – lol, I'm NOT a fan of Danny/Lindsey. But it's okay though. To each his own, I guess. There's one more "perfect couple" in CSI:NY in my book hahahahah…

Alisa – thanks so much

Mandi – idk… like Mac said, "We'll get there…" LOL

Mo – I almost wanted Stella to run into his arms. After all, she wanted that too. But that wouldn't be much of a "new idea", would it?