KATE

"You think?"

Sometimes that typically Gibbsian catchphrase made her want to thump him for his sarcasm, but delivered in an undertone, and at someone else's expense, it suddenly seemed hilarious, and she dissolved into laughter.

Maybe it was partly relief. The better mood that had emerged in their room had stuck around, even improving as the evening went on. Gibbs was affable, even friendly to the other diners, and apparently content to amuse himself by dropping the sarcastic commentary he couldn't say aloud direct into Kate's ear, punctuating his zingers with an occasional all too brief brush of his lips against her cheek or neck.

She was grateful that all she had to do tonight was relax and enjoy his company. He had been, if anything, even more affectionate this evening, more tender, more... the best way she could put it was 'loving'. Putting that word and 'Gibbs' together in her head was... Distracting. She had the impression he was being a little careful with her, avoiding anything that might rekindle the heat between them.

Whether it was for her benefit, or for his, she couldn't figure out. If it was for her, she thought, with a sad little smile, it wasn't working. He was attractive when he was being a bastard; toning down 'mind meltingly passionate' to 'gently romantic' wasn't going to help her much.

The meal was delicious, despite Gibbs muttering into her ear about his dislike for peas, and she felt as if the sparkle that had returned to his eyes was contagious. He leaned towards her again, nuzzling her neck and then sweeping her hair aside to kiss her lightly below her ear. She leaned into his touch. Oh, she could get used to this all too easily.

Once the elegant china and silverware were cleared away, he took possession of her hand, absently tracing patterns over her palm and the sensitive skin at the inside of her wrist. It was an exquisitely pleasurable kind of torture, the sensation almost unbearable, and the only thing keeping her from snatching her hand back from him was that she was certain it would be even more unbearable if he stopped.

She sipped from her cup of coffee, then tried to stifle her wince. Apparently their host went in for what seemed suspiciously like Marine style coffee, even after dinner. She'd added a generous dose of cream, but even so, she wondered about the wisdom of drinking it if she was going to get any sleep tonight. Under Gibbs' influence, she was more and more used to taking her coffee as and when she could get it, but unlike him she still preferred that it not strip the lining off of her throat.

"You OK, Katie?"

Gibbs had got fairly caught up in a discussion about boats with the man sitting across the table (Kate suspected it was the first time all week he'd enjoyed a conversation with anyone who wasn't an agent), and she was surprised he'd even noticed her reaction.

She nodded. "It's just the coffee. It's a little... strong."

He took a gulp of his own, and she cringed. The man must surely bleed brown.

"Mmmm. It's good. Strong's-"

"-better. Yeah, I know." She raised her eyes heavenward and he grinned slowly, apparently pleased that she remembered, then nudged his shoulder against hers in a gesture of comradeliness, an acknowledgement of their private joke, before turning back to his conversation.

Of course, there was no chance of her forgotting Gibbs turning up at her usual coffeehouse, spinning an unlikely yarn about her skills with pork belly futures, and inflicting his caffeine dealer's brew on her. She'd still been recovering from her surprise when he started quizzing her about Ari, wanting to know her motivations and impressions, probing her and dissecting her, staring into her eyes in that unnerving way, making her feel like she was stripped bare.

She had sometimes wondered, looking back, if it had been his way of flirting - plying her with coffee, getting in her face, his eyes flickering down to her mouth and then pinning her with the intensity of his gaze. Could it be called flirting when he was relentlessly grilling her? But then, if anyone could flirt and interrogate at the same time, she reasoned, it would be Gibbs.

Of course, getting abducted by that lunatic had forestalled anything else that might have come of their coffee shop moment. And a year later, she still wasn't confident how he felt about her.

Tonight was the latest in a long, long series of confusing moments and conflicting signals which had only intensified since being undercover together.

It was pleasurable just to see him talking about boats, one of the few subjects that could coax him into enthusiasm and chatting so freely with a stranger. She gave in to temptation, leaning one elbow on the table and cupping her cheek with her hand so she could indulge herself. It wasn't often she had the chance to watch him unreservedly, and the excuse was too good to pass up.

Her gaze drifted to his mouth, then stayed there. His lips looked so delicious, and she really hoped he wouldn't manage to keep the whole no kissing deal up much longer. She felt like an addict denied her fix.

There was a painful possibility that she might not get to kiss him any more after this op was over, and if that was the case, she wanted to be sure she had many, many memories.

It was only when he started to smile, slowly turning towards her, that she realised she was licking her own lips, and closed her eyes, wincing at her incredible lack of subtlety. She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, and hoped she hadn't been staring for too long.

"Bastard," she muttered.

"Yup, that's why there's two Bs."

She glanced over, and was relieved to see that the guy opposite them had left. She'd been so absorbed in her own thoughts she hadn't even noticed, which was humiliating in its own way, but at least it meant one less witness. There was music filtering in from the next room, and it looked like most of the guests had moved from the table.

"Do you have any idea how unsatisfying it is to insult someone and have them agree with you?"

He was obviously amused by her tone. "Uh-huh." His cheerful equanimity was annoying. "Wanna dance?" He tipped his head to the side, and smiled in that irritatingly winning way that made her want to forgive him for anything and everything and simultaneously made her want to strangle him.

She narrowed her eyes. "I guess..." Her reluctance didn't sound convincing even to her.

He pushed his chair back from the table and got up in one fluid moment, then offered her his hand with a little bow. His unusual gallantry was irresistible - also annoying - and she sighed as she allowed him to take her hand. Unexpectedly, he bent to brush his lips across her knuckles before gently tugging her out of her chair, and she felt her heart thump a little harder. Gibbs being chivalrous? Just not fair.

He lead her through to the next room, his hand resting lightly on her lower back. The dance floor was deserted, and Kate resisted when he tried to tug her into his arms.

"I don't bite."

"Shame," she quipped, and had the satisfaction of seeing him look just a little bit shocked for a second before he schooled his expression. "No one else is dancing..."

"So?"

"So, I'm self conscious."

He gave up on pulling her closer, solving the issue of her reluctance by moving himself into her space instead.

"C'mon Kate... Dance with me." She could hear the undercurrent of laughter in his tone, and she couldn't help smiling back at him. The man was too damn charming when he wanted to be. It was probably lucky that most of the time he didn't, she realised. He'd be lethal.

He had his arms around her waist now, swaying her to the beat despite herself, and she shook her head. "You don't take no for an answer, do you?"

"Not when I want to dance with a beautiful woman."

She ducked her head, caught between embarrassment and delight. "You don't play fair, either." She couldn't resist slipping her arms around his neck.

"Nope."

"And you always have an answer. You know how irritating that is?"

"Yup."

She sighed.

He leaned in till their cheeks were touching. "Just dance with me, Katie. Who cares what anyone else is doing?" he murmured in her ear, running his hand lightly down the back of her neck, and she closed her eyes, feeling lightheaded.

Damnit. If he ever decided to seduce her for real, she was toast.

He chuckled when he felt her give in and relax into his arms, and if she didn't feel like her spine had been replaced with cotton candy, this time she'd give in to the impulse to thump him.

"You're a pain," she mumbled.

"Yeah, I know." She could hear the smile in his voice.

"And a bastard."

"I think we established that already."

"So long as we're clear on that..."

"We are."

She sighed. She'd lost the argument. On the plus side, with his arms wrapped around her, his hands warm on her back, and his body pressed firmly to hers, well, it could be worse.

If this was losing? Yeah. She could learn to live with it.