Mary POV

I'm going to blame it on the alcohol.

But that's really a load of crap. Because I've had a lot more to drink on many occasions and yet I've never done anything so ill-advised.

Okay, yes I have.

In fact, I've done lots of things that were ill-advised.

And some of them were immoral and illegal and reckless.

And most of them were while I was stone cold sober.

So my whole need for justification and rationalization is just a manifestation of guilt.

And why did I feel guilty?

Because I let my personal needs outweigh my good judgment.

But I just couldn't stand there and listen to him apologize and feel as though he'd been wrong to kiss me.

Not when I could still feel his lips on mine even though we were three feet apart.

Not when all I wanted to do was drag him into my room and have my way with him.

And especially not when I'd wanted that kiss every bit as much as he had.

"I shouldn't have…" he said as I stood with my back to him while my good sense battled my needs.

Guess which one won?

"John," I interrupted.

In the second that passed while I waited for him to look at me, all that I could think of was that this was going to be without a doubt one of the dumbest things that I'd done in a long time.

A very long time.

But then he brought his eyes up to mine, and I felt the need hit me like a ton of bricks.

I grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him toward me. He wasn't expecting it, so he stumbled a step or two.

"Get your ass in here," I said gruffly, slamming the door closed behind him.

"I didn't mean to," he began, but I cut off whatever else he was going to say when I kissed him, pushing him into the door I'd just closed.

"This is a really bad idea," I said when I quit kissing him and started tugging off his jacket.

"I know," he agreed as he grabbed my face in his hands and kissed me again.

He stepped into me, taking control of the kiss and shifting us until we were in the short hallway inside the room, and now I was the one backed into the wall.

"Really bad," I continued.

By this time, his jacket was on the floor, and I started working on the buttons of his shirt, while he ran his hands up and down my back.

We kept moving, like the silver ball inside of a pinball machine, bouncing off of varying surfaces until at last we fell onto the bed in a flurry of hands and lips.

He grunted, a sound of pain, and my mind flashed onto the file I'd read on him before coming to Denver.

He'd been shot three weeks ago.

"Are you okay?" I asked him as I attempted to shift off of him. I was familiar with the lingering pain of a gunshot wound.

He didn't answer, but instead he held me in place and ran his hand over my hair, tugging on the hair band until the strands were free.

All the while we were fused at the lips, getting to know one another in the most basic fashion.

I couldn't remember a time when I'd felt this reckless, this out of control, this turned on, this freaking hot.

When we'd fallen onto the bed, he was beneath me, but after several glorious minutes, he rolled us over so that I was on my back with him on top of me, settled comfortably and naturally between my thighs.

I moved my hands down his back and over his butt, finally getting to feel first-hand what I'd spent considerable time looking at.

But reality hit me when I realized that I could feel a hardness poking into my side.

And not the good kind of hardness.

"Oh, hang on," I said suddenly, forcing myself to pull away.

"What's wrong?"

"My gun," I answered.

I sat up and took off my holster but the brief respite brought clarity.

This was wrong, pure and simple.

"John..."

"I know," he replied without me having to say the words.

We both got up from the bed, each of us breathing heavily.

"I'm sorry."

"I know," he said again.

"It's not that I don't want to," I told him. "Believe me, I want to. It's just..."

"I know," he repeated and this time he smiled at me. He ran his hand over my hair again, grabbing onto the ends briefly before letting them fall away from his finger tips.

"I'm still on this case, and I like you and it would just be wrong on so many levels, and if there's a possibility that maybe we get to know each other better after this thing is over, then I don't want to ruin it just because I didn't know how to say no right now."

"Mary, it's okay. You're right."

"Are you sure?" I asked with a grin. "Because I was kind of hoping that maybe you could convince me otherwise."

He barked out a laugh and shook his head.

"You know, I had a feeling that you'd be different. And you are. That's a good thing."

"Different?"

"Women never say no to me," he told me with a shrug. "Especially not once things get started."

"Oh, so this was kind of a shot to your ego then, huh?"

"I like that it's important enough to you that we don't let our impulsiveness get the best of us."

He stepped into me again and wrapped his arms around me.

And then he kissed me again, only this time slowly and for some reason the change in pace only made me hotter.

I wanted him, more than I could remember wanting any man in a very, very long time.

He moved away from my mouth, working at a leisurely pace across my jaw line and down to my neck.

"I'm still not sleeping with you," I told him unconvincingly as I tilted my head back, encouraging him to keep doing what he was doing.

"I know," he said, and he stopped for just a moment to flash me a grin. "Because it's a bad idea, right?"

"It is. It really, really is," I agreed as I ran my hands over his back. "But we don't have to quit just yet, do we?"

"No," he agreed.

"I mean, when was the last time you just did this? Made out with someone with no end goal in mind? Kiss just for the sake of kissing rather than as a means to an end?"

"Mary…"

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking," he directed as he leaned in again. I could feel his breath in my ear and it was sending shivers down my spine.

And as proud of myself as I was for my resolve a few moments ago, it was crumbling quickly.

Because he was good at this. Really good, and in a way, it was almost like torture. I mean, it felt so incredible that I wanted to move things on to the next step.

And yet, I had to stick to my guns.

And John was on board with that. I didn't get the sense that he was trying to talk me out of my clothes.

In fact, he probably could have if he'd really wanted to. Did I mention that I haven't had sex for more than two weeks?

So it was probably a good thing when my cell phone rang.

"I should probably get that," I told him.

Reluctantly, I stepped back from him and ran my hand through my hair as I walked to the dresser to pick up my phone.

"It's my boss," I told John.

And then I held my finger up to my lips.

It wasn't that I was doing anything wrong. I wasn't.

Technically.

Generally, having sex while working a case was not my modus operandi, but John wasn't a witness and we weren't actually having sex, so…it was all above board.

I'm a grown-up.

I'm unattached.

If I want to make out with a man in my hotel room during down time, then it was my choice.

But that didn't mean that I was going to advertise it to Stan.

"Yeah, Stan," I answered.

"I got your tap," he told me. "I've got a guy monitoring the activity as we speak. If we get anything good, I'll let you know. Everything okay there?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Tomorrow we're going to have the Gorens get in contact with me, and they'll insist on a meeting. I'm guessing that's when the activity on Keyes' phone will heat up."

"And this Lovell guy. You think he's dirty?"

"It's the only explanation that we've got at the moment."

"I don't think I need to tell you to proceed with caution."

"No, you don't. I know what I'm doing."

"Marshall's on his way back here."

"He's not coming to Denver?"

"They're still canceling flights into DIA, and he's got a witness here who needs him. You can call the local office if you need back up."

"Okay."

"Mary. Call the local office."

"If I need back up," I said firmly.

I hated bringing in people that I didn't know, and I was already working with three people I didn't know so…of course, one of those three I'd been kissing only minutes before so I guess I did know him a little.

"You keep me posted."

"I will, Stan. I promise."

I hung up with my boss and flopped into the lone chair.

"Everything okay?" John asked me.

I looked up at him as he stood in the middle of the room.

His shirt was unbuttoned and untucked and his hair was messed up.

He was really good-looking. And sweet.

And I was hit with a feeling of longing and loneliness that suddenly threw me into a bad mood.

"Everything's fine. In ten hours we're going to be telling a dirty cop that my witness is alive - which she actually is so that's a cardinal sin in my book - in an attempt to smoke him out, along with his drug czar string-puller and an equally dirty mayor wannabe. Everything is just fucking peachy."

He let out a sigh and sat down on the end of the bed. I kept watching him, unsure of exactly what kind of reaction I wanted from him.

Did I want him to tell me that it would all be okay?

Or to ask me why I'd turned into a bitch for no reason?

Did I want him to yell at me and be an ass so that I could just forget about this stupid fantasy that we might someday be able to have…something?

"Do you think that we'll be able to get Lovell?" he asked me, and his question threw me off. I'd been expecting personal rather than business.

"Um…I don't…I'm not sure," I admitted. "Hopefully they've made contact somewhere along the line, and the fact that Rollins knows he worked on that case with him and yet his name's been removed, well…that won't look good for Lovell. So Rollins' testimony alone will help, but if we can find the connection to Valero then I don't see how he'll be able to deny it."

"And the bigger they are, the harder they fall, huh? Does it worry you?"

"Lovell? No. He took the express elevator to the top instead of climbing the ladder, and he did it by turning a blind eye to drug dealers and murderers. He's a scum bag, and I'll be glad to see him go down."

We sat quietly for a moment, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

"I like you, Mary," he said, throwing me a second curve ball in only a minute. "And I hope that after we clean house, maybe we can see each other again."

"You realize that you're still doing it, right?" I asked him sadly.

"Still doing what?"

"You've picked a girl who's unavailable. You're avoiding any potential for commitment because you know that it can never happen between us."

"What can never happen? A commitment?"

"John, I live…not in New Jersey. Suffice it to say that I'm west of the Mississippi."

"Okay," he said, and a slow smile spread across his face. "You know that I have my own plane, right?"

"Well, now you're just bragging," I said dismissively.

He got up from the bed and crossed the room to stand in front of me. He offered his hand to me, so I took it and he helped me up.

"We've known each other a day," he said quietly as he pulled me into a hug. "I'm not promising any kind of commitment just yet. But I do want to get to know you better after this is over. And I don't normally like to remind people about my money, but in this case I will, because you know what it does for me? It means that I can take off of work whenever I want and I can go wherever I want. I can fly out to…wherever….and take you out on a date, and still be back to the office in the morning. Miles just mean that a little better planning is required. It doesn't make you unavailable."

I let his words roll through me, and despite a slight feeling of panic, I let him keep hugging me.

In fact, I hugged him back.

And then my defense mechanism kicked in and I stepped away and brought up work again.

"Now tomorrow you are not allowed to argue with me. I mean it. If I say that you need to do something a specific way, then you need to do it. I've been doing this job for a long time, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'm serious."

"Okay," he said again. He quickly and efficiently buttoned up his shirt and then tucked it into his pants before walking over to pick up his jacket. "Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."

"I'm sorry. I just…I need to keep things professional. For now anyway," I told him, hoping that he wouldn't call me out on the fact that for the past hour, I'd been acting very unprofessional.

"I get it," he replied easily. "It's fine."

He gave me a wink and opened the door.

"Hey, John!" I called out to him. I wasn't even sure what I was going to say except that I wasn't ready for him to leave just yet.

"Yeah?"

"Albuquerque."

Because really, what did it matter? Heidi wasn't there anymore. And we were essentially business colleagues. Sort of. It's not like other fellow law enforcement didn't know what I did and where I lived.

In fact, his own brother knew.

I'd met Logan once. It was years ago when a case had taken me to New York and I'd crossed paths with Mike and his then-partner, some redhead.

And Mike had flirted with me. Not hard or obnoxiously, but just a little. Just enough that, later on, I'd thought about his smile and his ever-changing eyes.

Not for long, mind you, but fleetingly.

And now here was that same smile, grinning at me as though he'd just won the lottery.

Only this time, the accompanying eyes were brown. Really dark brown, almost as though there was no difference between the iris and the pupil and as I thought more about the color, I stepped closer to him to get a better look.

"Your eyes are different than your brother's," I said. I'd told him earlier about the brief and professional-only meeting that I'd had with his brother. "His can't seem to make up their mind what color they want to be."

"I never have any problem making up my mind about what I want," he said, his voice soft and raspy, and his meaning was quite clear.

"I get that about you," I answered in a calm voice that belied the sudden reemergence of butterflies and arousal.

Because I was so close to him, I couldn't resist kissing him again. But I did manage to keep it short and then I shoved him out of the door.

I wasn't having any problem making up my mind about what I wanted either.

I just couldn't have it.

Or at least, not yet.

TBC..