The dress was red. A deep red, almost a burgundy. Sleeveless, fastened at the collar and wrapping around her curves, sliding down to a few inches above her knee. It wasn't anything that she intended to torture him with, but she hoped he would like it.

With that idea came the thought that Emily was trying too hard. After all, she and Morgan had been sleeping together for a year. She shouldn't be trying to impress him. What they had was great, it was the result of it that wasn't fair. She had a completely detached relationship with someone she got along so well with. Because it seemed despite the subterfuge at work, and despite the sex (and amazing sex at that), Morgan was still one of her closest friends. There was nothing awkward between them. At any other time in her adulthood, this would be perfect. It was the first time in her life she wanted more.

But that was what stopped her. Emily would not run the risk of losing him, let alone ruining their friendship and partnership. If this was the most she could have of Derek Morgan… it would have to be enough.

Not wanting to seem too eager, Emily did not show up right at eight. Twenty minutes passed, she parked on the street outside Morgan's place. Hurrying in her black leather boots, she walked down the collection of townhouses to reach his door.

Arriving, she first thought to just walk right in. But, even after a year, they still had a respect for each other's space. She raised her hand to knock and noticed a post-it hanging over the number. It's open was all it read.

Opening the door, the first thing she expected was Clooney to run and greet her. They usually spent their evenings at Morgan's place because of the dog. She didn't mind. His place was much warmer and comfortable than hers, and Clooney the German Shepherd seemed to really like her. Morgan claimed he was a moody dog who didn't accept people too quickly. He had yet to warm up to his mother and sisters. Emily wasn't sure if that were true. He seemed to take to her right from the start.

But there was no dog. Nothing came to the door. In fact, most of the house was dark. "Morgan?" she called. "Morgan?"

"Back here," he called further in the back of the house.

Her heels clicking on the hardwood floor, she moved down the foyer, through the living room where she left her purse on the coffee table, and past the bedroom; closed, she noticed. She moved carefully down the hall towards the kitchen. Before she reached it, she noticed the sliding door opened. Stepping out onto the enclosed patio, she gasped.

The room was decorated with at least a dozen candles, giving off a subtle hint of vanilla. Mixed with them were bouquets of flowers: yellow roses with lavender. There was soft contemporary music playing and in the center of the patio was a small table with two place settings. Two slender candles sat on the table, each with a flame.

Her eyes finally found Morgan, dressed head to toe in black. The same suit he wore to Reid's funeral… and the first night they were together. She wondered if that had been on purpose.

"You're late, Prentiss." He stated as soon as she met his eyes.

"It's spectacular." She replied in a breathy exhale.

His face spread into satisfied smile. Leisurely he made his way around the table. "I take it, then, you're impressed?"

"How did you manage this in just a few hours?" She asked, unaware how brightly she was beaming at him.

He slipped his arms around her, pulling her close, "Reid is not the only one who's a magician." He replied, leaning into her, "I just work a different kind of magic."

She giggled as he met her lips. His arms enfolded her close, though she noticed he kept his hands stationary. Usually, during a kiss like this, even if it weren't going to lead to anything, she would feel his hands along her curves. She loved his touch, even through her clothing. But this was nice… like he were trying to show more respect for her.

"Where's Clooney? He usually meets me at the door."

He pulled away as he answered, "He stays down the block with my friend's family when I'm out of town, I'll pick him up in the morning. That way it's just us." Morgan slipped his hand into hers and led her over to the table. "Glass of wine?"

"Please," she replied. She smiled again as he helped her into her seat. "You know… you're the first man to pull out my chair like that. Besides my own father."

"You deserve better than that, Princess; it's long over due." He replied, pulling a bottle out of an ice bucket next to the table. He thought for a moment, realizing something, "I've met your mother… but I don't think you've ever told me anything about your father."

She was not very open about the more personal matters of her life. Despite etiquette, she folded her arms over the table, watching as Morgan let the wine breathe a moment. She could tell him; she trusted Morgan with her life, she could talk about her family. It wasn't like she was embarrassed of her father or anything. "Well… I'm sure you suspect, he's not your typical dad."

"What's he work for? Intelligence? Secret Service? Homeland Security?"

"White Noise," she answered.

His hand around the neck of the bottle, he thought about that for a moment. Finally, he looked to her in question. "What?"

"White Noise, it's the name of his band." She explained with a shrug. "He's the guitarist; they have a few albums, they travel all over the country."

"Oh sweet Moses," Morgan replied in shock, "Emily Prentiss is the daughter of a rock star. I can't believe it."

Emily laughed, "Shocking, I know. Mention it to Elizabeth and you'll see her face turn thirteen shades of green."

As Morgan filled her glass, he looked her up and down, processing this new information. "No, you know what… I do believe it. You're too cool to take after your mother, you had to have gotten that somewhere." He moved to fill his own glass. "But explain to me how an ambassador in the state department got involved with a rock musician."

"Actually, they were high school sweethearts." Emily picked up her glass. She took a sip and continued, "George Prentiss was a year older then Elizabeth at Wendell Preparatory High."

Morgan let out a whistle. "That place, wow, that's steep. I can't imagine the tuition wasn't much better in the 60s."

"No, but their parents could afford it. My mother's side is fairly wealthy… but it's nothing compared to my father's.

Morgan was not about to ask how much money the Prentiss family had. It was one of the things that kept Morgan from saying how he really felt about her. He didn't think Emily was at all concerned about the different backgrounds they came from, but even if she wanted to be his girlfriend… soon she would figure how much better she could do.

"Anyway… my father wasn't a bad kid, but he was kind of a rebel. His family had plans for him, involving the Ivy League and then joining his father's law firm. Plans that came over on Mayflower, as they say. But he just wanted to play and write music. Back then, my mother had the same idea. She wanted to make an impact on the world. She thought about joining the Peace Corps and helping third world countries overseas. My mom used to really care about people."

"Your mom still cares about people, I've seen." Morgan said.

"Yeah, but… her career comes first. Anything that's going to hurt her position, she cuts out of her life… like my father, for example."

He could tell she was bitter about the past fallout her parents had. Morgan suspected she blamed her mother for the divorce.

"People change." She continued. "Everybody knows that. When couples change, it either makes their bond stronger… or it rips them apart. They got married the year before my mom finished college. They had been engaged since Senior Prom. They planned to wait until they graduated and could support themselves without family help, but… they had to move up the wedding due to a, shall we say... time sensitive complication."

"Enter Emily," Morgan said with a smile.

"Yeah, exactly," She added with a laugh. "After I was born, my father became a stay at home dad. My mother started working for a politician in New York, my dad would play the clubs at night. She tried to get him to grow up and get a real job… they started fighting all the time… silent treatment all day, screaming all night, believing I couldn't hear them because I was a room away… finally they reached their breaking point."

She looked away for a moment, the memory of it still painful. "They got divorced when I was six. My father had plenty of money and security to take care of a child… but he turned custody over to my mother. He went on the road with his band, I traveled the world with Elizabeth."

"Do you talk to your dad at all?" Morgan asked.

"Oh, all the time," She cried enthusiastically. "I guess I'm kind of a daddy's girl. I haven't seen him in about five years, but we talk almost every week. He knows about work and everyone on the team… I tell him just about everything."

Morgan nodded, "And… does he know… about us?"

Emily fixed him with a skeptical gaze, "What do you think? I can't exactly tell my dad I'm sleeping with a colleague on a regular basis. He knows all about you, he knows you're my partner and one of my best friends… he just doesn't know the reality."

She had suspected that would spark a fight in the middle of what was promising to be a lovely evening, but at last, she relaxed as Morgan nodded. "I can respect that. Believe me, I have not told my mother about this either. I hear enough nagging from her for a grandchild, this would not help."

With a laugh, Emily went to take another sip. Morgan got to his feet. "Ready for dinner?"

"Yes, please," she replied. He headed back inside, leaving Emily alone for a moment.

This was beyond what she had expected. They couldn't go out by themselves, for fear of someone seeing them. The best she hoped for was Chinese food and a movie. Something like this never even crossed her mind. There was no way he accomplished this in a few hours, though. Maybe in a day, but not by being out of town. And yellow roses… did he know those were her favorite? Was he aware that vanilla was her favorite scent? Well, that was a bit more plausible. He always commented on how much he loved her perfume and body wash. Maybe he paid better attention to her than she thought, maybe this wasn't just about sex for him…

He returned a moment later with two plates, setting the first one before her. Emily liked the look of the meal, hoping it tasted just as good.

"Parmesan Chicken," he stated, "with linguini in roasted garlic sauce, and steamed vegetables." He took his seat, giving her a gloating sneer. "Unless, of course, you're too full of crow to eat anything?"

With a friendly scowl, Emily pulled out her napkin. Morgan raised his glass, and Emily followed suit. "A toast, to…"

"Being proven wrong?" Emily suggested.

Morgan corrected, "Actually, I was going to say 'to our first date'."

For a second time, Emily was stunned. But she smiled, "Our first date."

Their glasses chinked and they each took a sip. Both avoiding the others eyes, they began digging into their meal.

As they ate, they talked cheerfully while the soft music wafted around them. The smell of the dinner and the wine mixed with the candles and the roses. It felt more like they were away on some exotic island rather than the enclosed porch of Morgan's townhouse.

"How is everything?" Morgan asked, sipping his wine.

"Wonderful," Emily replied as she twirled the remaining bit of pasta on her fork, "The food is fantastic. Where did you order from?"

He didn't answer. At last, Emily looked up in question. He leaned back in his chair with a conceited expression. Emily's jaw dropped.

"You?" She cried.

"Dessert and all," he enlightened. "Surprised, Princess?"

"Uh…" She stammered. Words seemed to fail her for a moment. "Surprised… is an understatement." Her hand ran her napkin over her mouth. "You can cook. All this time and I never knew."

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Prentiss," He said, offering his hand. She gave him a curious expression. "Well, no one's watching us this time. I figured you won't have a problem wanting to dance with me." He gave her a wink.

She smiled and took his hand. Getting to her feet, he swept her in his arms. He held her close, leading her elegantly around the floor. Emily let herself be comfortable against him, inhaling the sweet delicate scent of his cologne. Another song began; the music surrounded them like a gentle cyclone. It was much too appropriate, a thought that didn't escape either of them.

You give your hand to me and then you say hello

And I can hardly speak, my heart is beating so

And anyone can tell, you think you know me well

Well, you don't know me

"You may have showed up late, but I'm glad you took my other request seriously." He leaned into her ear, "You look incredible tonight."

"I'm glad I didn't disappoint you." She replied, pulling herself closer to him.

"Prentiss, you could have showed up in sweatpants and a hoodie and you'd still be beautiful." He explained. "But that is a good color on you."

No, you don't know the one who dreams of you at night

And longs to kiss your lips and longs to hold you tight

I'm just a friend, that's all I've ever been

'Cause you don't know me

"Thank you. I was hoping it would impress you." She hated that she had just revealed that. She didn't want him to think she was desperate. "So do you do this for all the girls you date?"

"I try to make my women feel special." Morgan shrugged. "I don't usually go to this much of an effort; it depends on how much I care about her."

She didn't seem to pick up on the hint. "Well… I hate to admit it, but… I didn't think you'd pull off anything half as wonderful as this."

"Looks like I managed to make you melt, Princess." He added an extra twitch in his eyebrows, a narcissistic leer on his face.

"You're very unattractive when you gloat." Emily replied with a teasing glare.

He chuckled softly and pulled her closer. For a long time, they danced in silence. She savored his warm breath on her neck. At the same time, Morgan inhaled her perfume. He wanted to touch her all over, kiss every inch of her soft, creamy skin, but tonight was about making her feel special. He would go slowly, wanting to drag this out as long as possible himself.

For I never knew the art of making love

Though my heart aches with love for you

Afraid and shy I let my chance go by

A chance that you might love me, too

Emily felt so drunk in his arms and was sure it had nothing to do with the wine. Her head fell onto his shoulder as she closed her eyes, just absorbing the feel of his strong arms holding her. She felt so safe here. Riley had once told her what it felt like being in Reid's arms, that she was home. Emily was beginning to appreciate that. There was no place else she wanted to be, or would ever want to be. Both of them wished this moment could go on forever.

You give your hand to me and then you say goodbye

I watch you walk away beside the lucky guy

Oh, you'll never know the one who loves you so

Well, you don't know me

"So… was this the perfect romantic evening you had hoped for?" Morgan asked at last.

She opened her eyes and lifted her head. "More than."

They continued to twirl to the music. The seconds ticked by, mutually trying to develop the strength to speak the truth. "Good, because it's not over yet. We still have dessert. And after that… I have a little something set up in the bedroom. Including candles and yellow rose petals all over the bed."

"Really? Well, I have a rule, Morgan. I don't sleep with guys on the first date."

"Is that a fact? That is a shame." He knew full well that was a bluff.

"Well… I guess I can make an exception. Just this once." She glanced at the opened door. "Shall we?"

"What about dessert?" He taunted. "You need your chocolate."

"I know… that's why I want to go into the bedroom." Her grin turned almost sinful, one finger dragging along his jaw line tantalizingly. He matched her wicked smirk and claimed her lips again.

You give your hand to me and then you say goodbye

I watch you walk away beside the lucky guy

Oh, you'll never know the one who loves you so

You don't know me

With one quick, gentle swoop, he lifted her in his arms, never breaking their kiss. Morgan took his time walking through the dark house, carrying her protectively into the bedroom.

You'll never know the one who loves you so

Well… you don't know me