"So what do you want for dinner?" Greg asked as he sifted through the fridge.

            "Whatever you can salvage, if you're looking through my fridge," Jilaine grinned as she entered the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe.

            "I could go get something.  The grocery store's open."  He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and shuffled through the bills, counting his money in his head.

            "You owe me twenty bucks."

            "Oh.  Here."  He held out a twenty-dollar bill and she laughed.

            "Just take me to dinner sometime."  He looked up at her with a crooked grin.

            "Are you asking me out, Robertson?"

            "Absolutely."  He looked through her fridge again, then shut it.

            "I'm making a run, you want anything?"

            "Just whatever you're going to make.  Oh, and some Vanilla Coke."  He laughed softly and walked past her to leave, then walked backwards until he was standing in front of her.

            "Are you going to let me back in?" he teased.

            "Maybe," she shrugged.  "If you're a good boy."

            "Nah, you like it when I'm bad."

            "I don't even know what you're like when you're bad," she laughed as he opened the door.

            "Don't worry, you'll find out soon enough," he smirked as he shut the door behind him.  He came back twenty minutes later.

            "Who is it?" she teased when he knocked.

            "Superman," Greg answered with a grin.  She opened the door and eyed him.

            "Where's your cape?"

            "In the car.  I'm incognito," he said, his eyes shifting to look down the hallway for anyone who might recognize a superhero in disguise.

            "Hmm.  Well, I guess it's okay."  She followed him into the kitchen and hopped up onto the counter to watch him cook.  "Whatcha making?" she asked and peered into the brown paper grocery bag.

            "Chicken parmigiana."  She raised an eyebrow and watched in intrigue as he prepared the dish and popped it in the oven.  "Now we have to kill an hour," he said as he glanced at the wall clock that read 8:23.

            "I have an idea," she began, but was cut off before she could continue.

            "So do I," Greg said softly and stepped in front of her.  Her eyes widened then closed as he leaned over and softly brushed his lips against hers.  He pulled away and locked his eyes with hers, silently asking for her permission to do it again.  She didn't have to answer.  He grazed his lips over hers again, creating a rash of goosebumps all over her body, then took her lower lip between his.

            The feeling was intoxicating.  She touched her hands to his face and he inched closer, resting his body weight against the counter.  His kissing moved from soft brushes to gentle concrete kisses as he threaded her hair between his fingers.  She smiled against his lips as he pulled away from her.  "Hi," he said softly as he scanned her eyes with his own.

            "Hey," she replied, her voice cracking as she spoke.  She took a moment to let her eyes drift down his body then wander back up, drinking in the way he looked at that very moment.  He watched her eyes, a grin crossing his lips, and placed another soft kiss on her lips before stepping away from her to glance in the oven at his chicken.  He excused himself to use the restroom and as soon as he was out of her sight she let out a shaky sigh.  He's good she thought as she stared at the doorframe, waiting for the presence of his body to match the scent of his lingering cologne in the room.  Very good.