AN: Thanks so much for the reviews!...Here we go, chapter 14 before the epilogue tomorrow (My favorite chapter!)...And now, with no further adieu, last but not least, JJ and Rossi...

Chapter 14

There were few places that offered a man absolute privacy in a town as crowded as Las Vegas, but a federally owned airstrip fifteen miles or so from downtown was one of them. This was a blessing; he really needed privacy.

He reached into his inner breast pocket of his sport coat and pulled out a small case. Flicking the latch, he picked up one of the three hand-rolled, imported cigars inside and brought it up to his nose for an inhale. The smell was sweet; it was made with the finest tobacco—Italian tobacco. After quitting years ago, Dave Rossi only smoked a few times a year, and when he did, he did it right.

Closing the case with one hand, he placed the stogie between his lips with the other. As he put the case away, he reached for his lighter—which was supposed to be in the same pocket—and came up empty handed.

Swearing softly and swiftly under his breath, he reached into his lower coat pockets, and then his trousers, searching in vain for the missing torch.

"You know, smoking isn't good for you," a sweet and soft alto voce chastised him gently. A very familiar voice, one that had haunted his dreams last night and would haunt him forever, now that he knew how sweet its owner tasted. No, that wasn't something he was likely to forget anytime soon…

And she'd run away from him.

Protecting his heart and his head, he adopted a sarcastic tone when he answered, "You wouldn't happen to have a light, would you?"

JJ was shielding her eyes from the bright Vegas sun, and her golden hair was blowing behind her as she approached him, like Botticelli's Birth of Venus. She looked every ounce the golden girl, exquisite, beautiful…unobtainable.

And Dave? He was lurking in the shadows of a huge building, the lord of the underworld, an island unto himself.

"No," she said, stepping into the dim light. "When did you start smoking?"

I didn't. Did my kiss taste like smoke? he wanted to ask, but self-preservation kept his tone snarky.

"Wrong question, sweetheart," he drawled without charm. "When I originally started, it was a long time ago…probably well before you were even born."

"Don't," she snapped.

He gave her a perplexed look. "Don't what?"

"Don't emphasize our age difference," she said, shaking her head slightly. "You do that when you want to dismiss me."

"You're kind of green to be profiling the master, Jennifer," he retorted, and then was unable to meet the hurt look in her eyes.

Shit, he needed that smoke! He started searching his pockets again.

"Please don't separate us," she said softly, without malice. "I think we mean too much to each other over the past few months to do that. Just answer my question."

She was absolutely right. He was being an ass, and he needed to stop. Their friendship, their working environment, their mentor/student relationship did not have to end because of one incredible—and incredibly foolish—kiss.

"It's tradition," he said, finally locating his lighter in his back pants pocket. "In my family, every time there is something major to celebrate—a wedding, a birth of a baby, even a death—the men gather and have a cigar." As he struck the lighter, he said, "I brought one for Morgan and Hotch, too, but since we were too busy…"

Before he could light it, she said, "Wait. You don't need to do that."

He was shaking slightly, he wanted that cigar badly. He needed something—anything—that would take his attention off the blonde in front of him. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"You don't," she said quickly, stepping closer. "There's nothing to celebrate."

That gave him pause. However, he didn't gain hope; he was far too much a realist to become a starry eyed dreamer.

"I'm not getting married."

His brows shot up, and the cigar dropped from his mouth and broke open when it made contact with his shoe, spilling the nearly twenty dollars worth of imported tobacco all over the ground. He didn't even give a damn about that, however. He needed clarification.

His heart was racing when he asked the most important, cut-to-the-chase question. "Why?"

"Because of you," she said, making his heart seize in the most pleasant manner in his chest, until she added, "Not just because you kissed me"—she blushed prettily, which made him smile despite himself "—although that was a spectacular kiss."

"If memory serves, Agent Jareau, you kissed me," he argued logically, watching her blush deepen, and then added, "And yes, it was spectacular."

"Spectacular kiss aside…you made me think, Dave." She smiled and continued, "You asked me about me, about what I wanted."

Her smile left her face and was replaced with a thoughtful urgency. "In thirty-five years, I can't remember a time I really thought about what I wanted. I thought about my sister and what I could've done to keep her alive, I thought about Will and how being in a relationship with him, especially after his father died, would help him. I thought about when I had to leave the BAU, exiting instead of fighting, because it would be easier on everyone in the long run."

She paused, closed her eyes for a moment, and then looked at him, holding his eyes with her crystalline blue ones. "I thought about you...how I'd wanted so badly to touch you and I didn't because of what others would think, afraid to let go of my good girl image because I would disappoint my parents."

"Why did you run from me, Jennifer?" he asked, needing to know the answer.

"Fear," she said simply. "I found my entire life changing drastically in two days' time…that's how much you made me think."

"How does it feel, to think about JJ?" he asked softly.

She smiled, a beaming, gorgeous smile Dave saw far too rarely from her. "It feels incredible."

He smiled and cupped her cheek in his hand. "I'm glad for you, cara," he said, the endearment slipping from his lips far too easily.

Before he could remove his hand, she placed her hand on top of his to halt him. "And then I thought about that kiss…"

Even in the darkness cast from the building, he could see the warmth flashing in her eyes, the spark of heat that was only matched by his own.

"And what did you think about that?" he asked huskily, unable to glance away for even a heartbeat.

Entwining her arms around his neck, she whispered, "I thought about how I wanted to do it again…and again…and again…"

He folded her into his embrace. "Oh, baby…now you're talkin'," he murmured, and then lowered his mouth to hers, feeling the sweet, soft warmth of her lips just before the storm of feeling hit.

His kiss was long and deep...demanding. This time, he didn't bother to ask for permission; he took everything she had and used it as food for his soul. With her kiss, he could feel the gaping holes in his past begin to knit together, in a fabric of passion and love that he could build tomorrow with.

By the time he lifted his mouth, he was both speechless and shaken. JJ looked to be in a similar state, with kiss bruised lips and closed eyes, a dreamy expression on her face. He'd never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

"We'd better get back," he said gruffly.

When she opened her eyes, she smiled and said, "That was worth being a bad girl."

He smiled, and because she was leaning against him, he helped her to her feet. He cautioned teasingly, "Careful there...not too bad…"

"That depends on what I want, right?" she said, tossing a wink over her shoulder, before heading toward the plane with a spring in her step and a swing to her hips.

Dave watched her walk and continued to grin. "Lord help me…"