Before returning from a trip to town, Andy stops at the fresh produce market to pick up a special treat for Sharon that he intends to share later in the day. He folds the brown paper bag over, staples it shut, and then places it in the old refrigerator in their kitchen. She, of course, is intensely curious, picking the bag up, examining it, sniffing it, until Andy takes it from her and gently places it back inside the refrigerator.

"It's for later," he says with a warm smile. "Please don't ruin my surprise by snooping where you aren't supposed to snoop."

He doesn't know whether it's the detective in her, a genuine curiosity, or the fact that she seems a little bored today that she finds excuse after excuse to go to the refrigerator and stare at the plain brown paper bag.

"It's not good for Bertha to stand there with the door open like that," he lightly scolds her, referring to the small 1950s refrigerator that stands in the corner of their kitchen. He had suggested they buy a more modern appliance when they purchased the cottage, but Sharon decided the old fridge had personality and fit right into the décor of the place, affectionately referring to it as 'Bertha'. He had never known a woman to become so attached to an appliance before, but the fact that Sharon referred to the fridge like it was a member of the family made him smile.

"You're right. I would hate for Bertha to die because you are torturing me by not telling me what's in that bag."

"Torture? I think you're exaggerating," he replies, pushing the fridge door shut, then grabbing her waist and turning her to face him. He gives her that disarming grin that she can't resist, and before long, her arms are wrapped around his neck, her lips pressed to his.

Two weeks ago, the doctor gave Sharon more good news, telling her to increase her activity level gradually, and that she could take more of the initiative in the bedroom. She didn't waste any time in undressing Andy and pinning him to the bed, finding that smooth spot between his hip and his navel that she hadn't visited with her lips in what seemed like forever. She was like a hungry feline that had finally cornered its prey, and she would not be denied of devouring her lover.

Since then, she's become intent on seducing him every day, switching things up in the bedroom and delighting in the newfound freedom the doctor gave his blessing to. Sometimes they don't make love in the bed – she's become more adventurous. The large shower is a blessing to them, and it turns out the kitchen table is more comfortable than it looks. Andy adores free-spirit Sharon. It's a side of her she never showed when they worked together and only came out intermittently in their relationship while they were still on the force. By-the-book Sharon has thrown out the rule manual, and Andy is enjoying every second of it.

"Let's go to bed early tonight," she purrs while her fingers twist in his hair, lightly teasing his scalp with her nails. "I have some new lingerie I'd like to show you."

"New lingerie? Lacy?"

"Mmmm, no," she replies with a flirty smile.

"Sheer?"

"Not really. I'll give you a hint – it's kind of trashy," she says before biting her lower lip, running the tip of her index finger along his cheek.

The thought of Sharon in trashy lingerie causes him to draw in a deep breath and for a moment he considers postponing his surprise for her. But then the timing will be off. Tonight the weather is perfect, no cloud cover, a view as far as the eye can see.

"I already have plans for us tonight."

"Do your plans include me in my new lingerie?"

"If you don't mind wearing it while riding in my jeep - I doubt there will be very many people around, hopefully no one at all. And we'll be up later than usual."

"What are you up to, Andy Flynn?"

"You," he replies kissing her neck, "will just have to wait and see. And no peeking in the fridge. I'm watching you, Sharon Flynn."

The day can't pass quickly enough for her. Every time she moves toward the kitchen, Andy is there, grinning, watching her. She thinks fast each time, moving toward the stove instead of the fridge, or dropping something in the trash, or taking ice from the freezer for a cold lemonade. It's the small pout on her lips that makes him smile and almost give in to her. But that would ruin part of his surprise, so he musters every ounce of strength to resist her.

All it takes is his lips against her bare shoulder and she melts into him, forgetting about the mysterious sack in the refrigerator, focusing her attention on what he's doing with his mouth, sometimes nibbling up her neck, other times dragging his tongue along her collarbone. "You're doing a great job of distracting me," she complains, barely.

"Maybe you should change into that new lingerie now. We can spend the afternoon in bed, then take a nap, have some dinner, and once it's dark, I'll take you for a drive in the jeep."

That's exactly what they do. First, she changes into her new trashy outfit, and trashy is an understatement. It's practically criminal, consisting of thin leather straps leaving little to the imagination, a collar that holds everything in place complete with metal studs, and a riding crop that slips into a loop on the side of her waist. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't tremendously aroused.

She delights in giving him orders, looking at him with an authoritative expression, and smacking him lightly with the crop when he asks questions or doesn't immediately comply. He enjoys letting her have her way with him, refers to her as Commander Flynn, then begs her to let him please her. He doesn't disappoint. They nap for a few hours afterwards, tangled up in each other and the sheets.

Later, as they prepare dinner, she finds more excuses to look at the sack in the fridge, touch the sack, move the sack, and squeeze the sack.

"Sharon, I swear if you touch that one more time, I'm going to put you over my knee and spank you with that crop."

The uplifted corners of her mouth and single raised eyebrow indicate his threat is not a deterrent for her curiosity. Naughty Sharon seems to be the new normal. She pulls the bag from the fridge, holds it up to her face, all the while her eyes locked with his.

"Okay, I warned you," he says shaking his head in disappointment. "Put that back, then meet me in the bedroom."

She fakes a pout as she slowly places the bag back in the fridge, giving it one final squeeze in an act of defiance, then walks to the bedroom to wait for him. Removing the pan from the burner, he sets the cooking utensils to the side, pulls his apron off, and chuckles to himself as he leaves the kitchen. "What am I going to do with you?"

His question is quickly answered when he finds her completely naked on their bed, staring at him hungrily while the riding crop lays across his pillow. But he hesitates, thinking the doctor may not approve of such activity, especially after they already made love a few hours ago.

"You know I love you," he states as he tosses the crop to the side. "And in keeping with doctor's orders, I will do the work this time. You lie back and enjoy yourself."

Andy never disappoints. Sharon may have had control earlier when they made love, but this time he makes sure she understands there's more than one Commander Flynn in their household and this one is very adept at giving orders. No need for a riding crop when you have amazing oral skills.

"I wouldn't call this a punishment," she pants as she tries to catch her breath after her climax.

"No, it isn't. I'm trying to distract you and convince you to leave the bag alone. It's a nice surprise, and if we don't do this tonight, I'm not sure when it will work out again."

The rest of the evening, including dinner, she behaves herself. Whatever he has planned is important to him and she's somewhat embarrassed by her shenanigans throughout the day.

"Andy, I'm sorry," she says over their meal.

"For what?"

"For being a pest about the bag. I'm a little stir crazy today."

"Really, Sharon? I hadn't noticed," he says reaching for her hand. "Even more reason to get out of the house tonight."

An hour after the sun goes down, he packs a couple of blankets in the jeep, two bottles of water, and the bag. It's kind of breezy so he insists Sharon wear a light jacket to keep from becoming chilled.

He drives along a dark dirt road, eventually coming to a closed gate with a sign indicating it's private property. She's surprised when he hops out of the jeep and opens the gate so they can pass into the remote fenced area, then locks it back up before driving toward a hill.

"Don't worry, we have permission from the landowner." When they come to the top of the hill, there are two other vehicles, so Andy parks away from them and turns out the lights. In the distance is the ocean, the soothing sounds of waves crashing the shore.

"Well, what do you think?" he asks.

"It's beautiful here. The air is so fresh."

"Sharon, look up," he says pointing at the sky as he pulls a lever to recline the bench seat.

Having lived in the city for years, Sharon missed out on clear skies, stars, and the Milky Way. Tonight there are stars twinkling everywhere she looks and as she gazes in awe at the vastness of space, a light streaks across the sky.

"Did you see that?" she asks.

"Yeh. It's the Perseid Meteor Shower tonight. And we have front row seats." He places a blanket across her, tucking the edges in, then wraps his arm around her shoulders.

"Andy, what's in the bag?"

"Oh, right, I almost forgot!" he exclaims before reaching down and plucking it from the floor. "Remember that strawberry farm we drove past the day we moved up here? You said they were the best ones you ever had. When I was at the market today, I noticed they've opened their own stand, so I picked a few up." He presents her with a fresh, plump, juicy strawberry.

"Ohhh, it's so good," she sighs, the juice running down her lips from the first bite. "Mmm, more," she giggles.

"Maybe you could temper your enthusiasm a little," he recommends, working hard to suppress his grin.

"Huh? Why?"

"Those people over there think we're having sex," he chuckles.

Her laughter fills the air before she grabs a strawberry, holds it high above her, and loudly states how good they are so that everyone can hear. "That should take care of it," she whispers.

They count dozens of shooting stars as they finish off the last of the berries, then snuggle in silence as the meteor shower continues.

"Look at that. There must be hundreds of them. You could have a thousand wishes, Sharon."

"Hmmm, I don't need thousands," she hums. "I don't even need one. I already have everything I want."