So I had a day to be nervous and fretful, but I put it to good use by organizing Trip's dinner. There were ten engineers, including Trip, and having a nice round number was a good start. Maalik volunteered to do the steaks, which was a relief to me since that meant I could work out the rest of the menu.

I settled on two appetizers: shrimp cocktail and dry roasted olives with herbed cream cheese. A rich consommé; a summer salad followed by the steaks; a decorated platter of cut fruit and a chocolate froth parfait with crème de menthe would probably go over well.

So there was prep. Truth of a chef's life: ninety percent of working in a kitchen is prep. If you can't handle that, you shouldn't cook. I tend to go into 'the zone' and move through things at a steady pace to get them done. I'm blessed that Maalik is the same, and we can move around each other without getting in each other's way. I spent most of Friday getting not only the Engineer dinner ready, but also serving up the regular meals as well. However-

I was smart enough to knock off early and take a nap.

Another thing I'd learned early on in the career. Self-care and planning do a LOT to keep you sane. So I slept for an hour, took a shower, and then fretted about what underthings to choose. I didn't want to look sleazy, but I didn't want to look like my Nona either. And yes, if things went well, the underwear was going to end up off of me fairly quick, but still-presentation is half of the, uh, meal, right?

In the end I settled for the only matched set I had. Black lace bra and panties with tiny pale blue roses embroidered on them. I dimly remember buying them at some sale and how they ended up in my wardrobe for space I'll never know, but they were here now and they fit, so I wore them.

Dio I was nervous. Not because I had doubts about Archer, no; he'd proved he knew his way around a woman's body (and that thought brought up a pang of jealousy I had to squash hard) but because I wasn't nearly as sure about my own skills in that department. My entire romantic history fit on one half of one hand, and none of them had been the love of my life.

My first was Parker, a fellow student at the CIA, who swore undying love until after I'd coached him through the Chocolate and Confectionary Technology and Techniques course. He dropped me like a bad soufflé the minute our grades were posted (I got an A; he managed a C) and even though the physical part had been fun, the heartache hurt. To this day I still get pissed when I see bars of baker's chocolate.

Then there was Rojelio, the owner of a restaurant I'd worked in. He was charming and funny. Unfortunately he had addictions, which meant everything was constant rollercoaster ride, emotionally. If he was stoned he was passively sweet, but when he dipped into Lunar Wave I never knew if he was going to vandalize buildings or pick fights with anyone in a two foot radius. He nearly broke my nose when I tried to keep him from stealing a car and that ended THAT relationship.

I'd avoided dating for a few years after that, and then Jacob came along. He was mild-mannered and good-natured, seemed to understand the crazy hours of my job and never asked for too much. Apparently I should have asked for more because when he returned to Canada I was one of the things he left behind, like an inconvenient pet. That one didn't hurt as much, mostly because I hadn't put my heart on the line I suppose.

But Archer . . . He was making me feel things. Things I liked, things I'd avoided, things I didn't understand. And as I mentioned before, he listened to me, which was intoxicating in its own way. He treated me like I was more than just my profession and that was a tricky path heading into the tender places.

Physically I was ready; my body definitely wanted his and I understood that. Emotionally? I wasn't so sure, but the only way to find out would be to move forward, and that meant spending some precious and vulnerable time together.

So with that in mind I waited until after Sath got the movie going in the Mess Hall to pick up the little container and casually make my way down the E deck corridors towards Archer's cabin. Every step made me nervous and for the first time in ages I actually felt my pulse thumping. When I reached his door, I tapped it, and got the shock of my life when it popped open before I'd even pulled my hand back.

"Gesú! Don't scare me-" I hissed, and didn't get to finish my rebuke because Archer's grip encircled my wrist and he tugged me inside, pulling me straight into his arms. I slammed up against him, all strong and warm; it was like being enveloped by an aftershave-scented tiger.

"Hi," he rumbled, his words muffled against the side of my neck. "Glad you decided to stop by."

I muffled a giggle against him, wrapping my arms around his torso. Archer was barefoot, in his off-duty sweats and I was glad I'd chosen much the same outfit. "Me too. I brought apricots."

He pulled back and gave me a questioning look; I held up the plastic box. "See?"

"Is this an Italian thing?" Archer wanted to know, and I shook my head.

"It's a me thing. I love apricots."

"Okay," he smiled and took the box. I looked around for Porthos, but he wasn't there.

"He's in Sick Bay," Archer told me, "Being supervised as he enjoys part of a Cho'olk rib."

It made me grin to think Archer had brought one back specifically. "You didn't!"

"Phlox made sure the section was decontaminated and safe," he murmured. "Once Porthos saw it, the rest of the world faded away."

"He'd have loved the carcass," I agreed, moving to sit on the bed, feeling awkward. Archer set the box down on his desk and then turned to me, giving that twisted little smile I was getting familiar with.

"Franny . . ." he sighed. "Do you have any idea how much I don't want to screw this up?"

I patted the spot next to me and he dropped onto the mattress, scooting closer. I slid an arm around him. "Yes."

"Okay then," Archer murmured. "Just so you know. I'm not exactly great at this sort of relationship and you're . . ." he gave a sort of helpless wave of one hand, "So . . . amazing."

"I'm not amazing, I'm just as nervous as you are," I pointed out, fighting the giggles. "And my track record hasn't been too good either, all right? All I know is things so far have been sweet and hot and I'd like more, please."

"Sweet?" Archer turned to look at me, definitely amused now. "The hot I get, oh yeah, but sweet?"

"Not making fun of me for the blue coriander," I reminded him. "A luxury spa pass out of your OWN pocket. Sharing a dessert when you really didn't have to. Hell, stopping everything when I wasn't sure about Null. All of those were really sweet, Jon."

"But those were just . . ." Archer looked confused.

I put a finger to his lips; he kissed it. "Those were the gestures of a considerate man. They make me feel safe around you, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, still not exactly sure. "But safe is one of those obvious responsibilities of a relationship."

"Not always," I countered, moving closer. "At least you're not going to punch me in the face."

It slipped out before I realized it, and Archer stiffened. He pulled away to look at me, his expression very still and very dangerous. "Someone punched you in the face?"

Under that gaze I flinched a little. "Long time ago; ancient history. He was an addict and I broke up with him immediately after that. I'm not stupid."

He muttered a curse and pulled me tightly into his arms, squeezing me. After a few seconds I squeezed back as a strange wave of something made me shudder in his embrace. I fought tears.

Damn it. I'd never told anyone about it before. Not my parents, not even the kitchen crew I'd worked with at the time. For years I'd blotted out the memory of Rojelio swinging his fists at me, screaming obscenities as I tried to protect myself. I thought I was past it; that I'd dealt with it.

Maybe not as much as I thought I had.

After a few soothing minutes of being enveloped in that hug of his, I took a deep breath, I gently pushed Archer and he let me go immediately, backing up to give me room but not so far I couldn't touch him.

"Franny," he whispered. "I'm sorry. Maybe we should . . ."

"No," I whispered back, feeling stronger. "I'm good. I really am. It's just . . . now you know why something like feeling safe is a big deal. To me, anyway. Besides, I put on clean underwear just for you."

He still looked a little worried, but when I pulled my tee shirt off and waved at my chest, the grin came back.

"Voila! Fancy lingerie for the occasion," I preened, pretending to model the bra.

"I could die right now and be completely happy," Archer choked, blinking. "Holy shit."

The wholehearted pleasure in his voice bolstered me like nothing else, and my face hurt from smiling. I batted my eyelashes at him and Archer gave a little shiver. "Please say I can touch you," he came his hoarse plea.

"Duh!" I reached for him and just like that we were rolling on the mattress, kissing. Or trying to; between having to shift and reposition ourselves some of the lip action hit other places. For example, I discovered that the captain of the Enterprise had a major erogenous zone just under his jaw line and kisses there made him groan.

Useful information to know.

Also, I had previously undiscovered hot spots of my own that included my collarbones, my shoulders and the insides of my elbows. Never before had I ever been kissed inside my elbows but now I was writhing like an octopus as Archer suckled the tender skin there.

"You like that," he murmured in a voice thick with self-satisfaction. "I'll remember that."

"It's torture," I squeaked, working to get his shirt off so I could accomplish a little revenge myself. And once I did, yeah, I took time to re-acquaint myself with everything furry and wide.

More kissing of course, but this time it was less lip to lip and more exploratory. Archer certainly wasn't shy about applying the taste test nearly everywhere. Bit by bit we started losing the rest of our clothes and once we were naked I started to hyperventilate because . . . well because YEAH.

I whimpered; wanted him, but accommodating THAT was gonna hurt. Yes it would be worth it, but still . . .

"Franny . . ."

"Sorry, sorry, it's just . . . wow."

Archer snorted, and slid a hand to cup one of my breasts. "I could say the same of you."

"Not in quite . . . the same . . . ahhh . . ." He'd started kissing my stomach, moving in a southerly direction and every press of his mouth sent urgent electric tingles between my hips. By the time Archer was blowing a warm breath over my furry mound I was wriggling again, definitely aroused.

"I can think of something I love better than apricots," he murmured in a tone that had my nipples puckering, and gently eased my thighs apart.

I barely had a chance to catch my breath because once Archer slid that tongue of his around my love button I went off like one of the phase cannons, the intensity of pleasure wracking me from toes to the crown of my head.

He didn't freak out, thank God; instead he just kept firm pressure against me and rode it out, which was damn it, perfect. I blissed out of course, as limp as one of my dishrags, and when I managed to rouse myself a few seconds later, I felt Archer licking the insides of my damp thighs.

"Unnngh, hi," I managed. "Thank you!"

"Welcome," he groaned. I tried to twist, hoping to reciprocate matters, but Archer pushed himself up and rolled; an amazing maneuver given how small the bunk was and how big HE was.

"But I was-" I began but he shook his head.

"I wouldn't last," Archer admitted, those green eyes full of amusement. "Even though I already took the pressure off before you showed up, Franny."

That made me laugh—the idea that the calm and collected captain had a quick wank prior to our assignation made me tug him down onto me.

"Now," I growled up at him, moving to wrap my thighs around his hips.

A little fumbling for alignment and then the push . . . . And in one slick stroke he was in me.

I shuddered, feeling tender and full. My hips rocked up as his rocked down and just like that we found that sweet rhythm. Blindly I kissed Archer's face, savoring the flex of his stomach on mine, the tang of my musk in his mouth as he kissed me back. The whole time he gave these deep growls and groans, but a few minutes later when I bit that tender point between Archer's left shoulder and neck, he came, hard.

And I felt it, all right, each pulse deep within me as I clung to him, holding him tight until it was over and Archer slumped on me, spent.

"Shhhh," I murmured, licking his ear. "It's good."

"Francesca," Archer sighed, and muzzily kissed the corner of my mouth. "I adore you."