June 10, 1939

"FDR and Eleanor are hosting the King and Queen of England at Hyde Park tomorrow," Nick read aloud from the newspaper.

"You're on first name terms with the President and First Lady?" Jen teased, sitting across the breakfast table from him with a bit of egg at the end of her fork. She put the food in her mouth, and Nick watched her eyes sparkle and her suppressed smile as she chewed.

"He did wave at me once."

"Oh?"

"I was doing crowd control during one of his speeches on the campaign. Back when I was just a beat cop," Nick told her.

"What was it like, working as a cop in uniform?" she asked.

He frowned slightly, not entirely sure what she was really asking. "Fine, I guess. Boring sometimes, wandering the streets. People are either on their best or worst behavior in front of a uniformed policeman. Kids looked at me like I was their hero. Anyone who wasn't a perfect model citizen looked at me like I was a stain on the sidewalk. Most of it was just following orders. All the fun came when I became a detective."

Jen nodded, having a sip of coffee. "I've always been curious. I always wanted to be a cop."

"You did?"

"Yeah," she admitted, averting her eyes, embarrassed by the confession. "But obviously I never could, being a woman and growing up like I did. In my neighborhood, any cops we ever saw were usually giving people a bad time. They were the enemy, even when they were going after awful people. Outsiders are outsiders, regardless of what they're trying to do."

"I know the feeling. Why do you think I didn't go back to Williamsburg in fifteen years? Ma never wanted me to be treated differently because I was a cop. Safer for me to stay away."

"Your mother sounds like a smart lady," Jen complimented with a little smile.

"She was," Nick answered softly. She would have loved you, he thought to himself. He wouldn't say that out loud, though.

More than a month had passed since they went to Nick's old neighborhood and shared that kiss by the river. If he closed his eyes at night, he could feel that kiss even still. But Nick did not let himself imagine that. He couldn't. She was his partner, and they had a job to do.

Ever since that night of the shooting in the alley, Nick and Jen had slept side by side with their beds pushed together. All they did was sleep. They were close, but never quite touching. Still, it was nice to be close to her. To fall asleep with the smell of her in every breath he took and the small sounds of her breathing lulling him into slumber. It had been a long time since Nick had been this comfortable with anyone. And he'd never been this comfortable around a woman.

She was perfect, really. To him, she was perfect. Beautiful and brave and brilliant. That much was apparent to anyone who met her, Nick imagined. The nature of her work as a private eye had given her skills and a demeanor that blended nicely with Nick's own from his work as a Homicide detective. They matched each other well, and being together all day every day, even as Trish and Wesley Claybourne, had given them an intimate knowledge of each other. In a working sense, of course. Other than that one kiss and occasionally walking around holding hands, nothing any more intimate had happened in the last month.

"What?"

Nick realized that he was sitting at the breakfast table staring at her across from him. She stared back, her brow furrowed in question. Nick just smiled. "Nothing."

She did not break eye contact with him as she smiled slowly back, her cheeks going a little pink.

But of course, there were microphones everywhere, and they couldn't say or do anything else just now. And Nick wasn't even sure what he wanted to do, if he could. He wanted to kiss her again. And a whole lot more than that. A terrible idea, really. The lines between friends and partners and more was getting blurred. Too blurred. He hardly knew where those lines were anymore. Jen didn't seem to know any better than he did. They hadn't talked about it, of course, but he got the sense that she felt just the same as him. Something was happening here. Something they couldn't discuss or act on. Something that wasn't going away. Not by a long shot.

"Ready for the game tonight?" Jen asked, interrupting Nick's troubled thoughts.

"We will be," he answered confidently. Joey Ferrante, Friend of the Family, was coming in with some poker buddies again. Known connections to the mafia were exactly what the FBI wanted, so the Claybournes had been very friendly to Ferrante and anyone else he brought in. Trish was more involved with this crowd than with most; she kept watch on the landing like always, but the guys always seemed to want to talk with her when she came down with snacks. Nick never liked when they did that. But it was the job. And he knew Jen could handle herself. Even so, Wesley had to walk the line between being an alert husband and a jealous husband. Anything that dissuaded the Friends of the Family from coming to the backroom would be disastrous.

But Trish had the menu all planned and would spend the afternoon cooking while Wesley minded the shop and set up the backroom. They'd be ready for whatever happened. There hadn't been any surprises since Charlie Riggs was killed, but they were on guard just in case.

Nick was getting antsy. Jen could tell. She had learned his moods in these last three months together. He was subtle. Quiet and steady always. But every so often he would get a little worried and worked up, and his demeanor would change ever so slightly. His expressions were forced. His hazel green eyes would get a cold, distant look in them. And he had that look tonight.

All evening, Jen did her best to play the charming hostess to Ferrante and his buddies. These guys were a little rowdier than the usual backroom crowd, but it was nothing Jen couldn't handle. The drink was flowing, as were the laughs. The poker game was merely a sideshow attraction to the genial conversations. But that was good. Let them talk. Let the FBI record every goddamn thing they said.

"How's about another round, sweet cheeks?"

The loud voice nearly set Jen's teeth on edge, but she forced a bright smile as she turned to Pauly Anastasia. Pauly was a nephew of Lucky Luciano himself. That made him important. Unfortunately, he was dumb as a rock, and no mobster in his right mind would trust Pauly with anything important. They hoped he'd let something slip that he either shouldn't know or wouldn't realize was important. Too bad he was a pig.

Jen took a plate of vol au vents over to give her something to grip tightly to let out some of her frustration. And sure enough, as soon as she got close enough, Pauly turned and put his hand right on her rear end. "These are really good," he said, grabbing more hors d'oeuvres with his free hand. "Get me a beer, doll, will ya?" Pauly requested, patting her behind.

She straightened up and walked away with her smile pasted on her face. She walked right past Nick. They made eye contact, and she saw a fire replace his cold worry.

Before she could say anything to stop him, Nick crossed the room to Pauly Anastasia. "Pauly, how many times I gotta tell you to keep your mitts off my missus?" Nick demanded.

It was actually kind of incredible to watch, the deft way Nick as Wesley Claybourne managed to keep his cool. His tone was warning but light. There was a laugh in his voice even as his words and expression conveyed his seriousness.

"Relax, Claybourne," Pauly laughed. "You can't have a dame lookin' that good and in reach and not expect a little appreciation."

"You lay a finger on her again and I'll break it off," Wesley threatened.

Joey Ferrante let out a wheezy bark of laughter, and the rest of the guys immediately joined in. Joey spoke over the hilarity to say, "Pauly, quit bein' an asshole. Claybourne's got a good place and a good wife, and she ain't gonna cook for us no more if you don't knock it off!"

Jen laughed along with everyone else, grateful that things had gone in this direction. She brought a cold beer over and put it in front of Pauly. "Here's your beer. Now keep your hands to yourself. I'm a one-man woman, after all," she teased.

Nick wrapped his arm around her waist. "Damn right she is," he agreed. And just for show, he let his hand fall to Jen's bottom and give it a hearty squeeze. She shrieked and smacked him in the chest, the both of them laughing.

The boys all went back to their game, having enjoyed the levity and seeing that the moment had played itself out. Jen looked up at Nick. That cold, worried look was still there. Jen rested her hand on his chest, hoping her gentle touch might provide some comfort. She was rewarded with a small twitch of his lips that might have been a hint of a smile.

In a moment of madness, Jen went up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. It was hardly a kiss, just a peck, really. But it had the desired effect. When Jen pulled away, Nick's gaze was warm and full of…well, that didn't bear thinking about.

Ever since that beautiful moment by the East River, she had wanted to kiss him again. But he was her partner and they had a job to do, and letting themselves get distracted by whatever was going on between them was a bad idea. And maybe giving him a quick kiss now was a bad idea, too. But she didn't care. She didn't want to see him worried anymore.

And really, she just wanted to kiss him. What a goddamn mess.