Teresa Lisbon was in the middle of a pleasant conversation with a few investors, with the help of her teammate and friend Grace Van Pelt. Some meters ahead, her second in command Kimball Cho, together with Wayne Rigsby, did their own thing trying to get checks to help the Bureau.

The CBI fundraiser was a yearly event and every department was made to attend, especially Lisbon's team, which had the highest closed cases rate, and besides, they had the star of the evening. She didn't like the first hours of the party because she had to get in conversations, try to impress and to get a check or two. But after the main show, the checks poured in the room and they could enjoy the rest of the evening, if they were lucky not to catch a case.

Speaking of the main show, the lights dimmed and a single bright light was on stage. Everybody turned their attention to it, and after a short introduction, Patrick Jane appeared. Wearing an impeccable dark blue three-piece suit, with his neatly combed curls and a smile brighter than the spotlight on him, Jane took the microphone and started the show.

Teresa lost focus of her company, took two steps forward and focused on him. Jane started talking, with his eyes scanning the crowd. Finally, and very briefly, their eyes met and they shared a secret smile. He continued with his speech, but the words lost meaning to her, as she was immersed in his posture, his way of walking the stage, his presence; the way his hands would move during a magic trick. Big, masculine hands. Long, delicate fingers that did the tricks and impressed the public. How can she not imagine his hands on her? How can she not imagine his fingers…?

A roar of applause was heard across the room, breaking her trance. Teresa composed herself just in time to see how he walked down the stage and was greeted with praise. She sighed and turned on her heels, returning to Grace and the investors who now were more impressed than before and already signing some checks before saying goodbye. Cho and Rigsby joined the girls, pleased with what they collected, especially after Jane's show. Speaking of which, where was he? Just when Lisbon turned to look for him, he was approaching them with a glass of champagne in hand.

"The showman is here!" said Rigsby laughing.

"Well done, Jane. You blew them away," said Cho, barely smiling.

"Meh, it was nothing," replied shyly, drinking his glass.

"I can't believe suddenly you're shy!" said Grace sarcastically.

Teresa laughed.

"Oh, they opened the buffet room!" almost yelled Rigsby, walking toward the place, making Cho roll his eyes, but still following behind as he was hungry too.

"You want a snack, boss?" asked Van Pelt softly.

"No, thank you, Grace," she replied.

"You, Jane?"

"I've already eaten," replied with a sneaky smile. Lisbon squinted. "What? The door of the kitchen was open!"

"Yeah, right," huffed Van Pelt and left.

Lisbon and Jane were left alone, looking at the people around them, having a drink. She could feel the consultant's hand on her lower back, sending warmth all over her body. There was no reason whatsoever for Jane to have his hand there, it was a force of habit. Every time they walked, entered or left a place, or simply when they were together like now, he'd place his hand there and caress her. It was odd because she rarely let someone touch her, but she even accepted Patrick's hugs. She didn't complain though; she loved the gesture, but it also made her a bit nervous.

Besides, he was staring at her. She could feel his penetrating gaze hidden behind the glass he was taking.

"Nice dress," he said, trying to sound as natural as possible, but failing.

"Thank you. I bought it exclusively for the party," and for you, she wanted to add but didn't dare.

"Good choice," he replied, and took another sip. She simply smiled.

Two hours had passed. The party was picking up, the food and drinks seemed endless and the music made the atmosphere more pleasant. Lisbon found herself in the middle of a nice conversation with Director Bertram's secretary who, she also suspected, was his lover. The young woman wasn't very interesting but Teresa laughed at her remarks, though she could also blame the alcohol.

A few meters further, Jane tried to pay attention to Rigsby, who was talking nonstop about how delicious the snacks were and how the price of the champagne equated a six month's salary. That was all he could register because he was almost hypnotized by Lisbon. She was beautiful, more than usual. From her hair falling down her naked shoulders in long waves to her bright green eyes accompanied with soft makeup and red lips; her neck dressed with her cross and one of her wrists wore a silver bracelet… but what caught Jane's attention the most that night was her dress.

It was a wine dress that highlighted her pale skin. It was short, only covering a few centimeters over her thighs. Its short sleeves fell on her arms leaving her shoulders bare, and it had a plunging neckline that left nothing to the imagination. Jane swallowed and took a sip of champagne. She was beautiful, and he loved her. Not because of her beauty on the outside. His love for her was born in friendship, from that weird but valuable friendship that they'd formed since he'd arrived at the CBI; it was her sense of protection, her jokes and sarcasm, her flirting and the way she'd dealt with her past, her sense of justice, her doctrine, her beliefs and resilience. He loved her soul.

Maybe it was when he'd seen her for the first time at the CBI, even when he'd been really broken to realize such feeling; maybe when he'd heard her laugh after he'd told her an anecdote from his past at the carnival which, by the way, was a sound that from that moment onwards, he wanted to hear more often; or maybe it was that day when it was the third anniversary of his wife and daughter's deaths and he was alone in the office, broken. She'd been there, hesitant on her steps but finally willingly not to leave him alone, even to hear him out; and he'd noticed how in her eyes there wasn't a trace of tears, which meant genuine interest. That'd made him soften his heart for a moment.

No, he wasn't sure when he'd fallen in love, but he was sure when he figured it out: during those six months in Las Vegas. He'd missed her so much, too much. He'd needed her all the time, missed her angry voice, her bright green eyes and her expressions of exasperation. It'd been painful, more so knowing what he had to do. Sleeping with the enemy was insane, but he'd needed to do it, no matter what it had taken, even his friendship and trust with the only person he cared about. He knew he'd hurt her, betrayed her trust and even put her job in jeopardy (one more time), still there she was, forgiving as ever, pretending nothing had happened, and the ability Teresa had to forgive had made Jane see that he wasn't worthy of her.

Even not knowing if she felt the same, because in spite of what he'd made her believe, she wasn't as transparent as a crystal anymore. She was at that moment, but not anymore. Jane hadn't been able to read her for a while, at least not when it came to her feelings, she'd learned how to hide them well. But how could a person so pure and kind fall for someone so selfish and broken as he was? Someone who said something and then pretended he forgot about it. Damn, he hated himself for that every single day. However, even if she felt the same… no, he couldn't. The danger was still out there, moving the pieces of his twisted game, and if he asked for Lisbon's head even before acknowledging those feelings, if he found out now… he couldn't even think of what Red John would do.

So, he'd settle for admiring her beauty and loving her in silence.

Teresa felt his stare. Soon, the words of the secretary lost meaning and her attention focused on him, again. She looked at him through the rim of her glass, arching an eyebrow when their eyes met. He smiled and turned his attention to Rigsby and Cho. She smirked back playfully. Was he blushing? Her smile grew even more. It was working.

It wasn't a great plan, nothing Jane-style. It was simpler: flirting and impressing him. Lisbon thought about it way before the fundraiser. There was no doubt that her love for Patrick went beyond platonic, beyond friendship and appreciation. No, her love for him was much deeper, more than she could explain. When did she fall in love with him? She had no idea. It was natural, as if it was on steps: first, working partners, then friends; after that, best friends, and then… what's next? There she was, trying to take the next step.

She didn't know when, but she certainly knew when she'd figured it out, and in the worst way: when Jane had confessed that he'd felt something for Lorelei Martins. God! Her heart had broken into a million pieces. She 'd felt so much pain that she got mad at herself for having fallen in love with him. Who falls in love with someone like him? Not because of his past, as she has one of her own, and to be honest, she was just as broken inside. But falling for someone whose only purpose in life was revenge? And who would do anything to get what he wanted, even sleeping with his nemesis' mistress? She was at a loss.

All he'd done since Las Vegas up until a few months ago crossed the limits of sanity. Jane, having shown what he was willing to do to get what he wanted, knew no boundaries, law didn't matter to him, he always said that, always believed that and it was his premise. He wanted revenge, whatever it took. Even if it hurt her. She wanted to hate him, rip the feeling out of her heart, her mind, her being. She wanted to hate him for everything he'd done since he'd arrived at the CBI, for the load of paperwork she had because of his childish behavior, for almost ending her career more than once, for his past, his present, for his mind that wouldn't stop thinking about Red John, for the Las Vegas plan, for Lorelei, for the fake kidnapping, for helping her escape; but most of all, for "forgetting" those words she knew he'd said before shooting her.

And she got mad at him for that, but she couldn't hate him.

She couldn't, and didn't have the will to try being indifferent, especially because, for a few months, Jane had been behaving in a strange way. Since Lorelei's death, he'd been deep in thought, and, for the most part, in the attic working of the list of suspects. It had been a couple of weeks, and everybody thought nothing would change, that Jane probably would be like that until he found Red John. But suddenly, he started coming out of the attic, and he was even more involved in the cases. However, that wasn't the big change, at least to her; she started noticing that Jane would smile at her more, he would stare and spend more time with her in her office, and even there were some "accidental brushings" of their hands.

At first, she thought he was trying to get her friendship back, her trust. The jokes and the sarcastic comments were a daily thing. But, after a while, she understood better. She didn't need to be a mentalist to realize that his staring was anything but innocent, and the accidental brushings weren't such.

Feeling his eyes, his touch, being the victim of his constant jokes in the office and listening to the way he said Teresa in a low voice and also whispering made the situation almost unbearable. She wanted him, his body and soul. She loved him too much, needed him, and her heart ached; but she took comfort knowing that he loved her as well. She didn't know if he felt the same, if he loved her just as much as she loved him, if Jane's heart could beat with a feeling other than hatred and the need for revenge; but what she did know was that she couldn't go on like this. She was willing to do something about it and if she ended up being rejected, she could live with that because, at least, she'd have tried.

That's why when Jane looked at her, she made a gesture with the head, barely perceptible but that he understood perfectly as a sign to rescue her. Immediately after, he got close to them, with a firm step.

TO BE CONTINUED.