A/N: Countdown to eventual move...towards the end of the month e.e By the way, this chapter will have a soft 'M' rating...who can guess why? ;D

RaiN: I'll definitely make up for it, I swear! Would some more of those oneshots help, perhaps? ;D But yes, that would be my expression too: "You bought me a frickin' piano?" No matter how short the review, you know I appreciate it! Isn't it weird when your friends hit on you? My guy friends do that too xD but just recently, I came up with a comeback. This one friend always asks me: "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" I now tell him: "Do you think it'll burn? You know, when you go to hell?"

That girl, like something off a poster

That girl is a dime, they say

That girl is the gun to my holster

Well, she's running through my mind all day

Iyaz — Replay

Isabella smoothed out her dress, admiring its shape against her lithe body. It hugged and emphasized every contour, the hem falling just above her knee. It was a baby blue one-shouldered cocktail dress with a ruffle down the front. It was appropriate and gave her an edge of mystery. She kept her makeup simple, yet smoldering, silver eyeshadow gracing her lids, black liquid eyeliner swept across to the lash-line. Gunmetal gray kohl eyeliner smudged on the lower lid, her long eyelashes swept with a coat of mascara and curled, the length nearly touching her eyebrows. She slid her feet into a pair of silver heels, buckling the delicate clasp.

"Here, let me do your hair," Teagan requested, clearly wanting something to do. Isabella looked over her shoulder at her younger sister. Teagan and Isabella looked like twins, with Isabella's exception at being the older sibling and slightly shorter by an inch. Her younger sister had the same raven hair and big, baby blue eyes. Yet, her face was rounder than Isabella's with a more angelic edge.

"Fine," she agreed. Teagan pulled the chair out for Isabella to sit down on in the bathroom as she let out an excited squeal. Moulin Rouge's 'Lady Marmalade' played over the iPod speakers as the young woman pulled out curling appliances and styling tools. She was currently in grad school at Chelsea University, studying to be a lab technician.

"So, how do you like working in Boston? It's got a bit more of a suburb feel to it than New York does," Teagan asked as she wrapped a lock of Isabella's thick, wavy hair into a curling iron.

"I enjoy it," Isabella replied. "The police force here is full of really good people." In the reflection of the mirror, she saw her sister's face turn knowing.

"Your partner seems nice," she commented. Her sister, the queen of subtlety. "He's cute, too."

"How did I know that he would somehow come up in a conversational topic?" Isabella muttered. "He's a nice guy and a good cop."

No-fraternization policies were more than just a good idea; it made everything easier. After a brief relationship with Officer Juan Martinez, Isabella had discovered that the job wasn't a great place to find someone. Ultimately, it came down to rank. Something she had to pull every time there was an issue. Officers and detectives were not a good match, no matter how strong the chemistry had been between them. Being a cop, relationships were also destroyed more often than not.

"Would you quit being so unbelievably in your thirties? You know he's cute!" Teagan scoffed, rolling her baby blue eyes as she brushed out the new curls in her older sister's hair.

"Well, in the cop world, it boils down to what kind of person you are," Isabella pointed out. "I live and work in the cop world. What kind of man Frankie is is more important than how cute he is."

"Sensible Izzy frightens Teagan," Teagan joked lightly. She sprayed hairspray in her hair and unplugged the curling iron. Isabella opened the drawer attached to the sink and pulled out her favorite tube of lipstick. It was a pink shade that enhanced the natural shade of her lips, giving it a subtle sheen to them. She walked out of the bathroom and saw Teagan zipping up a scarlet red dress. It was Mandarin-style, ending at the knees. She paired the ensemble with a pair of black stilettos, giving the look a sexy edge.

"We're ready to tear up Boston," Teagan announced.

As Isabella found her way home, she fumbled for her keys. After the night she had had, she could do with a glass of wine.

Damn, she'd been hanging around with Maura too much. Wine was definitely not Isabella's alcohol of choice. Beer or whiskey was closer to the mark. Very, very rarely did she ever let herself drink wine, let alone champagne or Chardonnay. Scotch or tequila were the strongest she allowed herself.

"I am losing my blue collar edge," she muttered under her breath. The entire dinner had consisted of teasing at Evangeline's and Isabella's careers of choice. Or how Teagan was falling under Isabella's 'lab rat' influence. Her tongue ring rubbed against the roof of her mouth as she slid her hand around her black purse, trying to find her keys. Proverbially, her ears pricked at the sound of rustling in the bushes. Her eyes narrowed as she took a step backwards, as her instincts as a cop kicked in. When a stray cat raced across the lawn, Isabella had to laugh at herself.

"Well, that was highly anticlimactic," she said after finally grabbing her keys out of her purse and sliding it into the lock. When she heard Chachi announcing her arrival, she kicked off her shoes. Tomorrow, she would clean her house, but tonight, she wanted to get into her pajamas and sit on her couch. Possibly put in a guilty pleasure DVD and sit down with a soda and popcorn.

The thought made her smile as she slid her dress back onto its hanger and hung it up in her closet. Isabella opened her drawers, hunting for something to wear. She laid out a short dark emerald green silk and black lace chemise, something she rarely wore nowadays. If there was one thing Isabella had massive pride in, it was her underwear drawer. Full of bras of all kinds, both lingerie and girly, and panties of every color. And the occasional chemise or camisole...

She heard someone knock on the door and she found a black kimono to wrap around herself as she padded across the dark cherry hardwoods.

Why the hell had he come over to her house? Her family might be there, and she had made it abundantly clear that Evangeline was the only sibling she would ever introduce to anyone at work. Her door opened and her petite body was revealed, clad in a black silk robe. Her dark hair hung in curls over her shoulders and she looked up at him with her wide baby blue eyes.

Get over your little crush, Rizzoli, she's technically your boss. Even if she's smoking hot and has a smile that does a bit more than make your day, he berated himself. When it comes to leagues, she's MLB and you're Pee-Wee.

Yet he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. And the little black robe did nothing for him either. It hit mid-thigh, showcasing her toned legs.

"I'm sorry to show up like this," he said. "I shouldn't have come. Your family's probably over." She arched her eyebrow, amusement tinting her eyes.

Never have I ever seen her wear eyeliner. I really shouldn't have come, now I want to kiss her again!

"Nah, they're staying at Evan's," she replied. "You know you don't have to call." Her Queens accent sounded so tough, but he knew his attraction to his partner came from what he knew of her. How her toughness was only her image, how it came from life experience, rather than growing up in the harshness Glendale.

He had written off every time he had seen her in a dress, but he had never seen her in something like this. Especially when he had a feeling she was wearing something a little daring under that robe. Inwardly, he shivered at the thought of removing it from her lithe body.

"Still, I shouldn't have dropped in on you like this," he finally managed to say. She shook her head and poked outside. He could see the goosebumps broken out on her legs as she gestured him inside. Quit staring at her legs, quit staring at her legs, he chided himself. "You look busy."

"Pfft, yeah right," she scoffed. "I was gonna flop on the couch in my pajamas and watch some chick flick about the power of women's rights." He knew she hated movies like that.

"Why not watch 'Happy Days'?" he teased her. She rolled her eyes again and planted her hands on her hips.

"Well, you at least owe me an explanation for coming over," she informed him. She was teasing, of course.

"To be honest, I sort of wanted to talk to you," he said. "About last night." Her eyes widened slightly and she rubbed the back of her neck.

"Oh." Her voice was light with surprise. She shifted her weight from foot to foot as she fidgeted with the ties of her robe. "Look, I let myself get vulnerable..."

"It may not be the best idea for us to get involved," he said. She nodded, her eyes on the floor. God, he wanted this woman so badly...

"It won't happen again," she confirmed. "Things got tense and we gave in to the heat of a moment that never should have happened." He couldn't help but feel a little saddened at her words and he saw her face soften.

"Look, usually when the girl says "it's not you, it's me", she doesn't mean it. When I say it's not you, it's me, I really mean it," she told him. "I'm a self-destructive, broken, damaged, lone wolf with walls ten miles high and five miles thick. Anyone I've ever trusted has always given me a reason not to."

"I know," he replied. He could see fear in her eyes. She really was scared of being close to anyone, but she needed him as much as he needed her. "But I'm not gonna lie here. I'm sick of hiding behind the badge." The moment of truth.

"Hiding behind the badge?" she echoed, tilting her head. Those soft ringlets fell from her shoulders and it took every scrap of self-control to not kiss her right then.

"Iz, I came over here to tell you how I felt," he finally said.

Isabella was nailed to her spot as her eyes widened. He felt something for her? Better to ask than to assume...

"What is it that you feel?" she asked. She dreaded the answer, but she wanted to know. What was it about her that drew him in?

"You're probably the smartest woman I know," he informed her. "It doesn't take a detective to figure out what I'm trying to say here." Frankie wasn't stringing her along.

"You like me," she stated. He nodded, his face reddening a little. Even after everything he knew, he still liked her?

"I have no idea when it started, but all I know is that now, I can't take my mind off of you," he said. His slight blush deepened, which she had to admit was cute. She took a step closer to him, meeting his doe-brown eyes with her cautious gaze.

"I'm a mess," she reminded him. "A mental, emotional mess with major family issues." He took a step closer to her, his hand brushing up under her jaw to tilt her head.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" he said. "We need each other in a lot of ways." The minute his lips touched hers, she stretched onto her toes to deepen the kiss. His hand wound into her dark hair, a groan emitting from his throat.

She held onto his work shirt in her hands, exploring the planes of his broad chest. His breath mingled with hers, hot and minty. Not that he wasn't exploring as well...

His free hand smoothed over the silk of her robe on her back, before he pulled her closer. All five senses were filled with the sensation of having this man practically on her. She couldn't feel anything but his touch, couldn't hear anything but the sound of his pants, she couldn't taste anything that wasn't him, nor smell. Her back collided with the wall and she arched into him. His tongue traced the bottom of her lip, enticing her to open her mouth. She let him in and their tongues slid together, fighting for dominance. The tip of his tongue grazed her piercing and he groaned.

"That's just not fair," he muttered between kisses. She let out a chuckle and finally moved him to the couch. His hands slid up her sides as they came to rest on the tie of the robe. Silently asking permission to remove it.

Isabella fumbled with the tie of the robe as she slid it off. He was getting turned on, she could feel it as she ground her hips against his.

"Good God, Iz," he said, taking in the chemise. He rested his hands on her thighs, causing a shiver to run down her spine. Something she would never admit aloud, but she loved it when someone touched her thighs. Or her neck. Or her ribcage or collarbone. "No matter what anyone says, you're so beautiful." He tilted her face forward to stare into her eyes.

"You ain't half-bad yourself," she replied, her voice low and husky with her desire. "But we'd better take this somewhere else, or else I'm gonna have to wash this cover." With those words, he wound his hands into hers and she led him down the hall...