AN: Thanks for the reviews, anonymous and otherwise! Reviews/comments are basically the only thing that keeps me writing some days bsdnbdfhdgd :") I appreciate it! Not sure how often this will be updated, but there's a lot planned.

I'm torn on this fic's rating but I think it'll be switched back to "M" to be safe.

/

It was all Lee could do to tear his attention away from the monitor. Amanda King. Here. He stole another half-glance and saw her peering directly at the camera lens, all spiffed up in a smart skirt and jacket. Her eyes were no less dazzling in black and white.

"Oh, no." The words came out before he could stop them.

For a second he prayed for a secondment to London. Ottawa. Oslo. Anywhere.

He shuffled to the door and shot a searing glare over his shoulder. The smirk on Billy's face left no doubt that this was his doing. Well, Lee was going to rectify that right now. The joke had gone too far this time.

And yet, when he reached for the handle, he couldn't help but hesitate. An irrational guilt bubbled beneath his skin.

Get a hold of yourself, Scarecrow, he chided himself. This was just another woman, and a divorced housewife, no less. No real threat, like Francine or Rachel or Katya. She wasn't a coworker, and she certainly wasn't KGB. There was no reason to be nervous.

Or maybe it was because she was so different from his other conquests. As he'd discovered last week, Amanda King was on a level all her own. The woman's naïveté did not extend to the bedroom—not that they'd made it upstairs. Unbidden, memories rose to the forefront of his mind. He remembered the way her lips had sundered to his and the warmth of her legs.

He had many regrets when it came to Mrs. King, but bedding her was not one of them.

He was drawn out of these thoughts by a hand in his face. Billy shooed him out the door like he was directing a shy, wayward child. "Get down there, Scarecrow," he said, eyes twinkling.

Lee scowled but allowed himself to be ushered into the bullpen. He popped his collar, adjusted his tie, and forged a path through the desks. Eyes followed him, as always, but he paid them no mind. For once in his life he felt no inclination to soak up the attention.

Instead he wished he could just sink into the floor.

Mask in place, he ducked into the elevator and let it bring him to the surface.

/

"Hi!"

Amanda spun like she'd been stung and nearly gave herself whiplash in the process.

Lee smiled at her, half of his body hanging out of the coatroom. Somehow the man managed to look bashful and suave at the same time. She took in the pressed suit, hazel eyes, and chestnut hair, then clutched her paperwork closer to her chest. It was hard not to be in a tither at his presence.

"Don't do that," she said.

"What, say hi?"

"Ha." She returned the smile but couldn't quite meet his eyes. Her cheeks flamed scarlet. "Hello."

Lee produced a polite chuckle before letting the smile drop. For just a moment, the mask slipped and Amanda saw the unease beneath. Clearly, he hadn't expected to see her so soon, if at all. The realization opened a pit in her stomach.

He doesn't want me here. What else should she have expected, really?

Every step he took towards her made her feel more and more awkward. Ripples ran up her legs and her knees knocked together once. She rambled about the closet and lack of real doors and anything else that came to mind. Lee wasted no time in cutting her off.

"Amanda, I'm a bit busy at the moment, so…" A single, sharp eyebrow snapped upwards. Amanda was mesmerized by the movement. "Uh, what's up?"

She blinked and clacked her molars together. Even with his fake verve and forced laughter, he was captivating. There were only a few feet between them now and she was finding it harder to concentrate.

"Oh, uh-" Before she knew it she was rambling again. Words spilled out of her mouth like a runaway train while Lee's eyes grew duller by the moment.

"Well- I just wanted to bring in the personal profile the agency asked me to fill out-"

She remembered the last time she'd seen that glazed look on his face. The circumstances had been much different then.

"-Y'know, the last time we were on a case together-"

All of a sudden Lee was alert and stern.

"Amanda, we were not on a case," he said. "Our time together was a fluke. An accident. A one-in-a-million kind of thing." He waved his hand dismissively.

There was a surge of moisture under her eyelids. Blinking away the sting, she continued, "Right, well, anyway, since I can't remember the name of my maternal great-great-grandmother-"

Her mouth kept moving but her thoughts were days away. A week ago, to be precise. She dwelled on the gentle way he'd treated her after the Welch arrest, once against the kitchen counter, and again tangled on the couch. It might've been a fluke to him, but it'd been quite special for her.

Of course, "gentle" was only half of the story, and that was far from a complaint. She remembered the sensations as if they were yesterday rather than last week, recalled muffling her moans into a palm as he pounded into her from behind. Her knuckles went white from gripping the countertop and she'd woken the next morning with an all-encompassing soreness. A satisfying sort of soreness, but inconvenient nonetheless. It'd been a challenge to hide her limp from Dotty.

"-I thought that since you had to check my family for security leaks, and I have to be on this probationary period-" She paused, reworking her next words in her mind. "That, well, maybe Mr. Melrose can look over what I have while I call back Warren Davenport."

"Who?" A sliver of life returned to Lee's blank eyes.

"Warren Davenport from Honeycutt Typewriter. He's the head of personnel," she said, squeezing her paper binder for all it was worth. She must've looked ridiculous, confiding all this mundane and trivial information to an international spy. "He wants to interview me for a position."

A part of her hoped he would protest. No such luck. Lee seemed all-too-relieved to get her out of there.

"Great!" He beamed, already moving back to the closet. The door was in the process of being opened when he said, almost as an afterthought, "Listen, I'm sure Billy would write you a letter of recommendation, and I'm sure you'd be much happier in an air-conditioned office than staking out some dive with me."

The dismissal struck true. Amanda bunched her shoulders around her neck. She'd never felt more like a fool in her life. Stetson was a professional charmer—he wooed women for a living—and she'd fallen for it. Neither one of them had made any promises, so there was no sense in pining like a lost puppy.

It was about time for a graceful exit.

"No doubt!" she said, bright but biting. Her eyes swept up the length of his body as she covered the room in two strides. "As far as I can see, espionage is highly overrated. Goodbye!"

She pushed him away with the corner of her folder and slammed the door after him, blocking his stunned expression from view. Steadying herself, she marched from the lobby, head held high.

Her dignity was intact, even if her feelings were in tatters.